Tuesday, 20 June 2017

Explaining the Fog

When you're in the middle of a thick fog, you can't see much else around you. I would sometimes hold my hand in front of my face, just to see if I still existed in that place. Because it's all around you, it's hard to see or think of anything else; but there isn't much to think about in a fog. It's like the color white - it isn't really a color, simply the absence of color. Fog is isn't something you focus on, it's the absence of focus and clarity. It's disorienting too, because you don't know if it stretches for only a few feet in front of you, or for miles.

Friday, 9 June 2017

The Beginning of A Journey Back

As we laid there beside each other in bed I wanted to apologize. I wanted to say that I was sorry for the last few months. Maybe even the last year or longer. I have been feeling so good this last week or two and it's actually been sticking. Not like the other times where it seemed like the fog lifted only for me to wake up a day or two later in the deep again. I wanted to apologize, but I was scared to. It felt like I would be claiming that I'm all better now, and then what if there was an expectation of me to be better. I didn't feel ready for that expectation, and I didn't trust the good feeling yet. So we laid there in silence, and once again I thanked God for how I was feeling better, and begged Him to let it stay.

I'm not sure where to start in this story, given that the story is my life. It's hard to pinpoint exactly when I went under the water, but I can recall many days of drowning. Drowning in depression, anxiety and feeling overwhelmed by the smallest of things. It was long before Audrey was born, so I'm hesitant to claim PPD. In fact, pregnancy ended up being some of the hardest months of my life, and I struggled with so much guilt for not feeling joyful and elated for the baby growing inside my womb. And while I wasn't depressed because I was pregnant, it still it felt very wrong to be depressed while I was pregnant.

Monday, 29 May 2017

Our Small Town Life... First Impressions

Ok, we've been here for over a month now, and I figured it was time to jot down (well, type) some of my first impressions. Things I like and dislike, differences and similarities to St. Albert, and just some random thoughts.

People look you in the eye a lot more, and smile a lot more. I could probably write a whole post all about this, (and maybe one day I will!) but for now I'll just say that I like it. I really like it. In the grocery store, on the street, in the coffee shop, and *especially* on the street- people look up when you walk by, smile and say hello.

Friday, 5 May 2017

Stupid Boots

"Your boots are a little bit stupid"

He said it quietly, with no inflection, and I could hear the caution in his voice. It almost sounded like he just wanted to hear himself say it, to see what it might sound like.

It was my fault. Moments earlier, in a fit of frustration I exclaimed "These stupid boots!" as I attempted to shove his almost-too-small winter boots on his feet. The weather didn't demand them- his rubber boots would have sufficed, but it was Easter Sunday and he was wearing his dark blue dress pants. His winter boots, also dark blue, seemed to look better than the black and yellow tractors on his rubber boots.

I regretted it immediately. Stupid is a word we were taught to never say. I often joked as a teenager that the only two words that were forbidden in our house were the F-word and Stupid. The details are fuzzy, but I remember a story my Mom told of how she knew a girl growing up who was called stupid, and so she never wanted that word to be used. My Mom never swore. I don't swear. But apparently I do say the word stupid now, and now my 3 year old says it too.

Thursday, 4 May 2017

I Just Knew We Were Home

The bed seemed bigger. It wasn't. It was still the same queen size that we had in our old room in our old house, but still, it felt bigger as I laid there on our first night in our new house. Our first house. We've been married almost six years, and the whole time until now we had been living in the house I grew up in, which we rented from my Mom.

It might have felt bigger because the room itself is bigger than our last bedroom. It's hard to say though because the floor was covered with boxes so it certainly didn't feel too big.. until I looked up. The white popcorn ceiling looked just massive with the soft glow of our essential oil diffuser on the floor; the colours fading in and out, the scent making it feel like home already.

Either way, something was bigger and even in my exhausted state I suspected it was more than square feet. All I had done all day long was lift heavy things, and so the absence of weight in my soul was tangible. It felt like hope. There is still so much hard work to be done. A change of address can't cure everything, but it may just serve the purpose of shaking me out of that place that felt like my feet were firmly planted in drying cement.

Then I heard it; not as loud as I'm used to, but still there it was- the unmistakable sound of a train whistle.  As I listened to it I could hear Chris' breathing change to the deep ins and outs that sleep brings, and I just knew we were home.

Thursday, 30 March 2017

Hobbies and Lacy Under-Things

"You need a hobby" he said.

It was said in the middle of a mini-argument. The details aren't important, but you know the kind - there was nothing actually wrong, and we weren't actually fighting, but things were tense. I had probably just brought up the budget or had criticized something he had done with Elliott. At least I'm guessing that's how it started, because this was his point- all I ever think about is the budget or parenting. And so therefor all we ever seem to talk about is the budget or parenting. And so therefor we have a lot of conversations that sound the same.... nothing is wrong, but it doesn't feel quite right either. As a side note - who knew that parenting would be something that we disagree the most on? Sheesh, I think I'll need to write an entire post on just that.

Wednesday, 22 March 2017

Minimalism, OCD and Digging Up The Foundation.

I'm in a season of change right now. I considered waiting to write about it until I felt as though the season was over, or at least until I had it figured out more than I do now, but instead I think I'll just bring you all along with. Chris always says that you are under no obligation to be the same person you were yesterday. It's true, but how many of us hold an obligation to ourselves to continue being the same person? Or maybe we hold an expectation to be "better?"

Ok, so in the middle of the soul wrestling I've been doing, I have tentatively jumped on the minimalism train. Like... I'm on it, but it's still moving slowly as it leaves the station and I still think about jumping off if it starts picking up speed too quickly. When I told Chris that I was starting to get excited about minimalism he looked at me like I had three heads and asked if that meant we had to take down the gallery wall in our living room? Because minimalism looks like a room with white walls and a wooden chair in the middle, doesn't it? Well... no. I don't really know how to do it "right" but I do know that when I went through the kids' closets and dressers, I felt a significant shift inside myself. I don't want to sound like a weirdo, but I also can't downplay this because it really felt... significant. Then a week or two later I read a blog called "Using Minimalism to Balance Your Uptight Soul" and I read a quote that says:

"If you're like me, you spend a lot of time up there in your ever-whirring brain. It might even be why you like to keep your physical environment so neat. The calm around you balances out the chaos inside"


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