…never say never

Never, my friends, is a long long time.

I try never to say never. Yet on some topics (*cough…husband #3…cough*) I still do.

I try never to say never because there have been so many times I have said never to something and then never became maybe and then maybe became probably and then probably became certainly and next thing you know I am busy explaining to my friends and family why I defected from the People’s Republic of Never-Never Land.

Take running, for instance. I said never to this for most of my adult life. I would tell people: If you ever catch me running, look behind me to see what or who is chasing me and call 911.

Things started to change for me in 2002 when I fell in love with (and later married) a “jock” who gently encouraged me and fully supported me in pushing my limits.

A-hem.

To date I have been “caught running” at 4 half-marathon events and no one has had to call 911 for me yet.

My fifth half is coming up shortly, on June 7th in Niagara Falls. I am walking the distance this time because I didn’t want to risk injury from running on snowy and icy trails when training officially began in February. (Before you suggest: I hate treadmill running for a multitude of reasons but primarily because I. AM. NOT. A. HAMSTER.)

I will never sign up for a full marathon. 😉

What have you said never to, and then had to eat your words later?

The WB

…Money

I used to really sweat about money. A lot.

For most of my adult life it seemed there was never enough to make me feel safe. I didn’t usually run out of money before I ran out of month although there were many long stretches that were too close for my comfort.

During these times I only bought stuff that was an absolute need and then only on sale, scrimped on groceries, got creative with what was in the freezer and the pantry, said NO a lot…and found ways to amuse myself and the kids that didn’t cost anything. It really irked me that I couldn’t ever let my guard down about money and just spontaneously treat my loved ones (or even myself) to a gift or a dinner or a show. Sometimes I did it anyway, then fretted about it the whole time.

Money management was all about keeping the ever-looming wolf (in my mind, at least) from the door.

I remember during one of these stretches that a good friend asked me to be her guest at a conference in the Bahamas. All I had to do was pay for was the flight and bring some spending money. My hotel, meals and recreational activities would all be paid for – a fantastic opportunity, in the dead of winter!

This was during a very dark time in my life  – I was being stalked and harassed on a daily basis without any real help from the police – and I was starting a new life as a single parent. I really needed some respite from this situation, to be briefly safe and to breathe deeply again, and to gather my thoughts.

I managed to find an amazingly cheap last-minute flight with only 1 problem – I would have to be in Nassau 2 nights before my friend showed up. I couldn’t afford to stay at the hotel the conference was going to be in so I found 2 cheap places nearby – a motel and a B&B (that offered afternoon tea as well as breakfast, in the price!) Neither place could accommodate me for both nights so I had to move around. I decided I was going to book the flight and join my friend!

But what to do for food? I had very little money and eating out on the island was expensive. So I packed some trail mix, two apples, and a bag full of sandwiches (some cheese and some peanut butter) along with my luggage and off I went.

I had a fabulous time for those 2 (now suddenly 3) days by myself as I waited for my friend (who was unavoidably detained and arrived a day later than planned). Thankfully the Hilton let me check in ahead of my pal!

I had to crash the Executive Floor’s Happy Hour that night and load up on complimentary wine and appetizers, having run out of sandwiches by then… 🙂

The point of this story, for me, is that I had much more fun and adventure trying to manage in this way than I would have ever had if I was flush with cash.

It also provided one of the many lessons life has taught me about money and having faith in my own resourcefulness to find a way around financial (and other) obstacles put in my path.

So, lack of money doesn’t bug me quite like it did in times past. The kids have flown, I’m on my own (bonus poetry…hehehe) – things are easier now that I have only my self to be responsible for.  And I believe enough in myself, finally.

I imagine the worst case scenario – I lose everything and have to start over from scratch – and I now know I have the strength and the will to make the hard but necessary choices, if it comes to that. And maybe even (dare I say it?) have some fun doing it. I am confident I will always be able to manage (financially and otherwise) with whatever life throws at me.

So those kind of worries don’t keep me up at night anymore. Money has become one of the smaller things in my life…and we all know we’re not supposed to sweat the small stuff, right?

The WB

…Lung cancer – the AIDS of cancers

When JD was diagnosed with lung cancer, we were gobsmacked. How could this happen? He never smoked, didn’t work in a smoky environment, wasn’t exposed (to our knowledge anyways) to any of the other environmental toxins linked to cancer.

It. Just. Happened.

I wish I had a nickel for every time someone asked me if he smoked. The conversation usually went like this:

Me: We just found out JD has lung cancer, stage 4.

Person: Oh, that’s terrible! (Then, almost immediately) Is he a smoker?

Me: No, not ever.*

Person: That is so unfair.

(So clearly it is then fair if you are a smoker???)

It was so noticeable – the type and order of the questions – that I wanted to say “Yes, like a chimney” to the inevitable smoking question, to see how the person responded after that apparently vital piece of information was revealed. But I never did, because it seemed mean and tricksy to do that to people. Also, I needed all my energy for supporting JD – not arguing with educating people.

Here’s the sad thing. I am 100% sure I either did or would have responded in the exact same way prior to our experience with this disease. Yes, I was one of those JUDGMENTAL KNOBS prior to May of 2013, unaware of the stigma facing lung cancer sufferers who admit to smoking. As if the damn disease wasn’t enough to have to deal with.

But since then, I’ve had loads of time to research and to ruminate on all things lung cancer and I am here to tell you that EVERYONE who gets the Big C, in any part of the body, deserves our full compassion and support. No qualifiers, please.

Lung cancer research is one of the most underfunded, and yet this cancer with rising rates is one of the deadliest. The reasons?

First – by the time you are diagnosed, for most people it’s already too late.

Second – the general public thinks it is an entirely avoidable disease so why are they being asked to donate to a cancer that people bring on themselves? Let’s donate instead to one of those other deadly cancers like breast or prostate or melanoma and let the lung cancer victims die like flies suffer from their poor choices.  Hmmm…what’s going to happen to melanoma research now in the years ahead that when all the tanning bed enthusiasts are start dying, I wonder?

I don’t want to get into a long rant about how powerful and blinding the twin forces of addiction and denial are. If you are any kind of a human being, you probably already know this. But I think, as an ex-smoker, that I can speak for all smokers when I say that no one gets into – and keeps – smoking FOR THE CANCER.

So please, in this month of cancer awareness and all year round, if you learn that someone has been diagnosed with lung cancer:

Don’t ask if they smoked. It doesn’t matter anymore, really! (Except to health care professionals who are determining the best treatment options and do need to know this.) Never-smokers and long-time ex-smokers get lung cancer too, so who’s to say the smoking definitively caused this particular occurrence of disease? Meditate on this if you need to silence your inner Judgy McJudgetrousers.

Put all your “I told you so” and “Well, what did you think was gonna happen when you kept sucking on those coffin nails?” thoughts in a box to the left, to the left…and keep yer yap zipped and yer gaze set to “Compassion with a Capital C”.

The cancer is here now and nothing you can say or think will change this or help, unless you:

Do offer the person and their family all the love and support that’s in you to give.

They’re gonna need it.

This has been a public service announcement by WB Industries – striving to make the world a less judge-y place, one post at a time.

The WB

*I added the “not ever” to my response because I quickly learned the next question would inevitably be: Did he used to smoke?

…the Journey

This is something my relationship with JD taught me. To be able to stop and just be – in the moment – and appreciate the journey we were on. Instead of being so focused on achieving the end goal that you don’t even remember how you got there. Guilty as charged, at times!

JD loved road trips. I think it was the only time he felt really safe and peaceful – in total control behind the wheel of the car, protected by steel and glass. Beyond the reach (at least momentarily) of the demands of his life  – especially those created by his OCD. We had so many wonderful conversations on our journeys. So many laughs, songs sung, remembrances, musings and revelations.

Because his OCD made his life (and mine) so out of balance – chaotic and overwhelming – JD felt he never had time to stop and truly enjoy life. So when he did agree to take a break (even just for 24 hours), we packed as much fun and spontaneity into those mini-vacations as any humans possibly could.

I learned to leave all my other cares aside and just fully immerse myself in this altogether too brief semi-respite from the demands of living daily with someone with such a severe anxiety disorder. I learned when you can do this that a 24 hour vacation is just as refreshing (maybe even more so) as a long weekend or even a full week away from routine life.

How many of us have gone on vacation and packed our worries along with the sunscreen and the books we’ve been meaning to get to?

I’m not saying it’s easy to leave our worries behind and just enjoy the moment. But I am saying the benefits of learning to let go and fully savour each moment of the journey as it occurs are immense.

The WB

…Goalsetting

It’s no secret to those who know me that I work towards goals. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, quarterly, yearly, 5 year goals, overarching life goals…I love to plan where I’m going and how I’m going to get there.

I even use goal setting to give my life balance. If it wasn’t for signing up for (at least) a yearly half-marathon race I would probably almost never get outside to run or walk on the trails near my home – an activity that never fails to bring me peace and joy. But to drop everything else and do it for the sheer selfish pleasure of it? Fuggedabout it. Too many other “duties” on my schedule competing for my time.

So let me commit to a goal – to be in good enough shape to be able to go the distance without injury and cross the finish line upright and smiling on a specific date – and I can now make it a priority to get outside and enjoy myself, no matter the weather. Because my half-marathon training plan is necessary for me to achieve my goal.

A nice side effect of all this planning and goal setting is that when I have a sudden change in plans (hey, life happens) or need to just veg-out instead, it’s usually no problem. It seems counterintuitive, but for me goal-setting allows for  more flexibility and adaptability in my life, not less. If something comes up, I can quickly rejig the schedule or make the decision to forgo the planned activity altogether. Without guilt. Because I know where I am going and feel in control of my life. Prioritizing becomes much easier when I am working towards goals.

A few short-term goals I am currently working towards:

Niagara Falls Womens Half Marathon (June 7) – Training started in early February so I’m training to walk this one. (Not a fan of winter running!). Three walks per week of increasing distance.

Increase flexibility – 20 minutes of yoga at least 2X per week. Nice counterbalance to all the fast-walking I have committed to. Currently I am but a shadow of my formerly bend-y self. The goal is to be able to complete one of my yoga DVD workouts with the same form and “range” as the instructor. Like I used to be able to.

Manly-Man Pushup Plan – Started last week. Six weeks of thrice-weekly very short workouts until I can perform a set of 10 from-the-toes pushups in perfect form.

Blogging A-Z Challenge (of course!) – just what I need to get me back to blogging. Another activity I love to do, but so rarely give myself time to do it. Sigh.

What goals are you currently working towards?

Tell all! I’m always for looking to be inspired to add new goals to my life.

The WB

…Freedom

Earlier this week I read an interesting post on Beyond Midlife Bloggers entitled “Wanted: The Single Person’s Life”.

In this post, Jane Gassner describes the single person’s life:

“A Single Person’s Life is one of contentment, pleasure even, in the solitary nature of day-to-day events. That is, no one else is about to crap on your fantasies or complain about the way you made the bed. If you snore, you only wake yourself. If you get up at 3 a.m. and must have a bowl of cereal, no one is there to say, “What the hell are you doing?” You don’t have to wait for the bathroom to be free and the only smelly old sneakers in the closet are yours. “

I have to say she is 100% correct. This new life of mine is a life of contentment and pleasure in being solo, for the first time in many many years. The last time I was flying solo, I was responsible for 2 teenagers and money was tight. Now I am, for the first time as an adult, living completely on my own.

It. Feels. Fine.

It. Feels. Right.

People ask me if I will start dating again. Will I marry again. I tell them it is extremely doubtful. Truth be told, the word “never” has been used – repeatedly. I don’t refer to JD as “my last husband” for nothing. I feel guilty for feeling this good about widowhood.

JD suffered from OCD and this made a good deal of our life together frazzled and stressful.   It took me many years to figure out what was wrong. It got worse as time went on. I was in over my head and there was no one I could turn to. I couldn’t speak of it as he didn’t want anyone to know.

So instead family and friends thought he was eccentric, difficult, uncaring. Internally, I refer to that period as the time I was the Unwilling Mayor of Crazytown.

The feeling of freedom with my new single life (and the freedom coming from no longer having to live life according to the tyranny of JD’s OCD) is incredible. I feel confused and guilty because I know now if by some miracle he was restored to me I could never go back to that Crazytown life – even though I still love and miss him terribly.

Why does it seem like he had to die before I could really start to live? This question I can never answer, even as I ask it of myself.

Every. Damn. Day.

The WB