Work In Progress

Yesterday I read a blog post, and I cried.  The way Glennon writes, you feel like you are there with her, inside her head, feeling what she feels and seeing the world through her perfectly imperfect, brutiful eyes.   When I first started reading Momastery, Glennon's blog, where she casts her wide net of love and reality and acceptance and vulnerability, I remember thinking: “Well look at her all beautiful and successful and a gorgeous family and living the life.  Must be nice to just write and talk and not have to ‘work’---she has it so easy.” I am glad those are just words, as hurtful as they are, because if they were something else--something physical and real--I would have to eat them and I don’t think that would be much fun.   As it is, I choke on the thought that they ever rattled around in my head in the first place.   Glennon’s story is here ...and I know you will take the time to see her, and feel her, like I did not. ...

Brene Brown defines connection as   the energy that exists between people when they feel seen, heard, and valued; when they can give and receive without judgment; and when they derive sustenance and strength from the relationship.  I am struggling with connection right now.   There are so many types of relationships...parent/child, friends, family, co-workers, lovers, partners, etc.  But we don't always connect - right?  Family for example.  You don't get to choose your family but you do get to choose whether you want to put out the effort to stay connected to them after you become an adult.  When I was younger, I didn't think much about family.  My aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents--they were always around. But as an adult, I spun off into my own nuclear unit and family, outside my own housefull faded into the background. I think it was because I didn't want to need people.  People, will disappoint you. Harden...

Happy Easter Bunny!   That is my new greeting at this time of year.  Let me explain why. A few years ago we got new neighbours.  A young couple, new to Canada, moved in next door.  I have lived in the same house for 7 years now and for most of that time, have kept my head down as I worked outside sweeping the deck or shovelling the driveway.   My primary goal upon arriving home was to get from the car to the house without making any eye contact.  Oh you should have seen the things I used to do.   Pretend to be on the phone. Drop my keys, several times, on the way in so I would look preoccupied, (and stupid I suppose...) Carry bags in front of my face. Wait in the car pretending to look for things if a neighbour was outside in their driveway. It was all part of my old me, and while I would like to say it has vanished with all my work in progress, but it hasn't.  It lingers.  But it is not in control of me any more...

I am now 48.  I don't know how it happened, but it did. And I slipped along through this one ...only Youngest remembered when I woke up.  He slipped his arms around me, looked up and whispered "Happy Birthday Mother McMummy".    Everyone else remembered some time later...sheepish recoveries...grand promises and guilt presents awaited.  Oh goody. So I will have to update my description on this blog.  No longer a 46 year old.....which was me when I started this, I am much closer to the big 5-0 now.   At work, I arrived to a manilla envelope on my computer keyboard. I smiled.  The card. Cards were constantly circulating for birthdays, retirements, new babies, promotions. I opened it up and out slid a card paper clipped to an envelope.  For "F"'s birthday next week...said the note.  I signed it. No one at work knew.  Wow.  This was great. I e-mailed my lunch date S.  We had a meeting but were getting together...