G is for…

G

…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.

Six weeks is all it takes. I can do it!
Six weeks is all it takes. I can do it!

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

F is for…

F

…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

E is for…

E

…Early Mornings

I have, for most of my life, been a morning person. Happily alert with first light and filled with tremendous energy – busy planning what to achieve during the day before my feet hit the bedroom floor. Energy levels waning as the day moves towards night – grateful to slow down and curl up in a chair with some knitting and TV, or a book at day’s end.

My husband was a bit of night owl. He also possessed tremendous will  and strength to power past his body’s signals for rest. All-nighters were something he could do with apparent ease; something I paid dearly for, even days later.

For several years, JD maintained 2 jobs, working day and night. During this time he snatched sleep an hour here and there, and tried to pay off his sleep debt on days off. It was an unhappy period but nothing I said made any difference. He was a man with a mission and this is what he thought he had to do to make things better.

Even when he was down to only 1 job, he continued to cheat himself of sleep as he powered through assignments in his quest for an MBA. I, on the other hand, reached that point in every late night where I couldn’t give a damn about the assignment anymore – whatever was done was good enough to submit – my MBA brain shut off and all I cared about was the bed I swore I could hear beseeching me from up the stairs.

After the diagnosis, we talked about whether the repeated and long-term stressing of his body in this way had suppressed his immune system, allowing that first cancerous cell to take root and flourish. We couldn’t come up with another valid reason for such a healthy, never-smoker to get lung cancer.

When JD was alive, I tried to accommodate his sleep patterns, and stayed up much later than my body would have liked. This made my mornings groggy and unpleasant, and I needed an alarm clock (with snooze function!) to wake me on work days.

Since I have been widowed, I no longer even need a clock in the bedroom. I go to sleep when I want and rise refreshed, usually in advance of when I need to. I have yet to oversleep, and occasionally find myself, as I did this morning, awake and ready to go hours ahead of “schedule”.

I love my early mornings again, but not the reason for the change.

The WB

C is for…

C

…Classic rock, Concerts and (blog under re-) Construction.

Nuthin' to add to this.
I got nuthin’ to add to this.

It’s the Classic Rock Weekend on my local radio station. AC/DC is playing right now. I was rockin’ to You Shook Me All Night Long when it didn’t need the Classic descriptor in front of it. And I am still rockin’, at every opportunity.

My first husband once pointedly asked me when I was going to grow up and stop wanting to do this shit (meaning going to live music shows and rock festivals).

Nope. Haven't grown up yet. Rockin' my outfit for the Alice Cooper Hallowe'en Show.
Nope. Haven’t grown up yet. Rockin’ my look for the Alice Cooper Hallowe’en Show.

My last husband enjoyed concert-going but only certain artists. As a result I have seen Bob Dylan 4 times and Gordon Lightfoot 3 times.* Fine artists both, that I have grown to really appreciate, but sheesh…let’s add some variety to the mix, shall we? I feel like I need to make up for lost time.

Which is a bit of a problem as concerts are announced and I wonder how many more of these events I can cajole my kids into accompanying me to, before they stop answering my texts. 🙂

So I have started looking around at others to join me in these adventures. And I realize that I have very few who I truly call friends (true…quality over quantity is my motto), and they don’t always have the time, money or admiration for the band/artist to want to attend with me. I don’t mind having to go alone to concerts (although I think my daughter minds me doing this, very much – talk about a role reversal, hah!). Of course it is much more fun sharing these experiences with friends and/or family.

The family that rocks together stays together I always say.
The family that rocks together stays together I always say.

What I love about this A-Z challenge is that it has rekindled my love of blogging and ye olde blogge. It feels like coming (virtually) home, except this home needs a bit of TLC and some renovation. I spent several hours last night locating and reinserting many photos that had gone AWOL from my older posts. This work continues! Pardon my mess while the blog is under (re)construction.

The WB

*Ironically, JD felt an urgency to see these artists whenever they were in the area because “they could die soon”. Well, both Bob and Gord are still touring while JD is no more. Huh.

B is for…

B

…Bouncing Back!

Some days you’re the bopper and most days some days you’re the bop-ee.  Or so it seems to me lately. My goal is to be like El Bop-O and keep popping back up every time.

Alright Life, hit me again. I dares ya.
Alright Life, hit me again. I can take it. I dares ya.

So far, so good. It’s all going according to plan. 😉

In the past 18 months the world has lost my husband, my dog, my father-in-law and my matron of honour’s mom.  The last 3 have taken place in the past 8 weeks. I have been there in the room (hospital or otherwise) to witness each passing. So is it any wonder I have been a little obsessed with death and dying lately? (But not in a depressing or morbid way. More on that on Letter D day – I know you can’t wait! Bwahaha!)

And I keep bouncing back. Life is more precious to me now than it ever has been. And I am trying my best to wring the most out of every moment of it. This is the best way I know of honouring this great gift of life that I have been given.

The WB

A is for…

A

…ADVENTURE

(Certainly participating in this challenge is quite an adventure in itself – for me at least. I am finding out just how rusty my decidedly-not-mad WordPress skillz are. Just trying to place the damn badge on my blog is proving an exercise in frustration. Please bear with me people – it will get better as the month progresses and I do much needed work on ye olde blogge.)

Adventure = Life, in my humble opinion.

If your live is not adventurous, you are not living it. I don’t mean you need to be defying death on a daily basis. But I don’t believe people should be playing it safe either. Feeling major a tiny bit of fear at thinking of attempting something is, for me, the first clue that this might be something I should be avoiding doing. That maybe I need to s-t-r-e-t-c-h just a wee bit (or a lot).

Since JD died I have had many completely new adventures as a widow. My plan is to have many, many more. Rock on, fellow adventurers!

The WB

 

Good grief Mizz D, it’s Christmas!

Important Disclaimer – read this first: If you are one of those people who hate to hear of anything but full-on Christmas Joy at this time of year, read no further. If you are one of those people, and you continue to read, please don’t leave comments with any sort of a “C’mon, snap out of it! Count your blessings and stop whining” sort of a theme to it. It may not be pretty if you do. At the least, I will probably refuse to publish the comment. These are my feelings and I will give voice to them here, on my blog. You have been warned.

I struggle with Christmas. Every year now for many years, I white-knuckle my way through the holidays with only one goal in mind – to make it through, alive and mentally healthy, to Boxing Day. You probably wouldn’t know it, because I stay as cheery as possible on the outside, so as not to interfere with any other person’s joy in the season.

You see, I do completely understand how wonderful Christmas can be, because:

I used to be the biggest Christmas freak ever. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to create and spread Christmas Joy amongst as many people as I could touch during the season. I used to make or buy gifts all year long in anticipation. I couldn’t wait until it was decently close enough to Christmas to send out my cards. I baked, I played Christmas tunes, I decorated, I celebrated with abandon!

Somehow I lost all that and I can’t get IT back.

I have tried multiple strategies. For a few years I thought it was the commercialism of the holiday that killed it for me, so I stopped giving material gifts and donated to causes instead. I focused on the giving and spiritual aspects of the season. That offered some relief, but that wasn’t IT.

This year I tried to decide to add to the above, and focus on what Christmas activities gave me joy, in an effort to stave off what seems to be an inevitable depressing and anxious mood at this time of year. So I sent out cards, and put together small gifts that I hope bring a smile to my loved ones. I listened to Christmas music. I even decorated my office. And I watched, enviously, as others got into the Christmas Joy – the Christmas Spirit – that continues to elude me.

As I have been mulling over for the 1000th time what the hell is wrong with me at this time of year, it suddenly came to me (I think). I use this time of year to grieve.

I am grieving:

  • People that I have lost. People that I especially associated with Christmas. Such as my dad (biggest Christmas freak ever). And Auntie Hazel, who JD and I used to spend quiet and special Christmas Eves with, in years past.
  • Christmases past, that will never be again. Like when my beautiful children were small and innocent and full of Christmas Joy. Before they were hurt and beaten down by life, by things their dad and I did to them as a direct result of getting a divorce.
  • Relationships that aren’t what they should be. That I don’t have the tools to fix. Even if those people wanted them fixed, which I have my doubts about.
  • All the sorrows of this world. Within my circle of friends and family, and also outside of it. My heart breaks for those who lost family and friends at Sandy Hook Elementary School, for the family of the mom of the troubled shooter, and even for the shooter himself, who didn’t get the help he desperately needed for his mental well-being.
  • That I may never experience Christmas Joy and peace again. A valid concern as this goes on year after year, despite my efforts to change it.

So, here is my Christmas truth. It is not “the most wonderful time of the year” for me. It used to be, and now it’s not. It is a time when I am anxious, depressed, and emotionally fragile. I wish it wasn’t this way. Oh, how I wish it wasn’t! But it is.

I keep trying to get the ol’ Christmas magic back in my life. This year, I thought I was doing better, but it has hit me like a ton of bricks anyways.

Well, despite all this, hope still does spring eternal in a small, quiet part of my soul. The part that keeps saying “Better luck next year!”

And I am grateful to still be here, on the planet, in good health, with lots of food and a warm abode to call home, and to be able to feel, even if it is painful to do so.

It still beats the alternative, by a long shot!

Merry Christmas to anyone still reading! (I mean it!!!)

What the Dickens!

My life lately, Reader’s Digest Version:

1. Falling in love with the characters and writing of Charles Dickens

2. Mistakenly spending a night in the wrong part of town

3. Anticipating/dreading the start of graduate school

4. Putting off the move, yet again

5. Gearing up (mentally) to get back to my health and fitness goals

1. I started with downloading free e-book versions of Nicholas Nickleby (read!) and David Copperfield (almost finished). I can’t believe how engrossed I am with DC. I couldn’t believe it when he married Dora and overlooked Agnes, never mind was blind to Steerforth’s (lack of) character. I love his Aunt Betsey Trotwood, Pegotty, Mr. Dick, and the bombastic amusing spendthrift Micawber! I couldn’t wait to find out what happened to Little Emily. And the evil Uriah Heep (so that’s where the band got the name!), and the venomous Miss Rosa Dartle. My goddess, what a book. I have since downloaded more of his writings though I have been told on good authority to forget about reading any novels once graduate school starts. See item 3, below. 🙁

2. This is what happens when you pull into a strange town, late at night, exhausted, and are unwilling to spend any more than you absolutely have to, to get a night’s rest. There were clues, certainly. But we didn’t pick up on them until it was too late. It seemed to be a reputable chain hotel – let’s call it the HoHo, instead of it’s real name, to protect the guilty, shall we? We had stayed at another HoHo in the town of the golf tournament that JD was playing in, and we had such a nice experience there over the previous 2 nights, that we thought we were in for more of the same in this town.

So, we pulled into the HoHo, just on the other end of the lovely main street – so full of very hip dining spots and trendy watering holes – just one street away from the beautiful waterfront. JD negotiates an excellent rate for us and we head to the second floor to find our room, using the outside landing to get there. I happen to notice that some of the rooms appear to be let out on a long-term basis – people are actually living in them, with their own belongings in there, instead or beside the standard hotel-issue furniture. Hmmm.

We enter our room and it’s…on a slant?! The floor is so slanted that a golf ball rolls quickly and inevitably from the back of the room to the front. Walking to the bathroom feels like walking uphill. Also, there is no phone. But we don’t care – it’s cheap, clean and we’re too tired from 2 days of a golf tournament followed by a long drive to this town, halfway home. JD shoves the phone book (that we do have, for some odd reason) and some towels under the mattress so we don’t feel quite like we’ll roll off of it towards the front of the room during the night and we head outside for a walk and a bite to eat.  Right next door to the HoHo is a Chinese buffet restaurant, so after our walk to the beautiful downtown and waterfront only a block away, we go there for our late supper. The restaurant is almost empty (it’s late, after all)…just us, one other couple and, at the next table, an obviously homeless man. Hmmm.

Bellies full, we head back to our tilted room and crash. JD doesn’t make it through 5 minutes of TV and I close up my e-reader soon after. Then, around 1 am JD wakes up because he hears a couple of people talking outside our room. I sleep the sleep of the righteous (or dead) right through the kerfuffle. The woman is upset because the hotel manager apparently has locked her out of her room. JD thinks she is talking about the room next door to us. Eventually they go away and JD falls asleep again. Hmmm.

Shortly after 8 am the woman and her friend come back and this time I wake up as well. I can hear her bawling at the hotel manager across the parking lot that he is a “creeper” and she is calling the police and he better effing let her get her stuff etc. etc. We still think she is talking about the room next door to us. The mirror in the room is angled just right to see her reflected through a slight opening in the drapes – a young woman with a short-cropped, almost shaved head, what little hair left is died multiple colours in squarish-looking blotches. She is wearing a checked flannel jacket and cargo pants and has many ear piercings, fully occupied with hoops and studs. Then she starts telling her companion that she can see her stuff and I realize she is looking through the same crack in the drapery at my bags, parked under the mirror!

“See”, she says to him, “I always leave the bottom window open and now I’m gonna bust through the screen and open the door and get my stuff.” Which she does, but we have the security latch on (thank heavens!) and she gets nowhere. I leap out of bed and run downhill to the window and stick my head through the drapes. “HEY!” I yell at the shocked and surprised woman. “Sorry!” she says, “I thought this was my room.” “WELL, IT’S NOT,” I say and shut the drapes. I stomp back to bed, not sure what to do now. JD gets dressed to go see the manager and I can hear her talking about how she has this really great lighter and it’s a peace offering and then this green Bic lighter flies through the broken screen into the room, and of course rolls slightly back towards the window. She leaves. I throw the lighter back onto the outside landing. Hmmm.

Meanwhile, JD has gone down to see the hotel manager, using the room’s OTHER door that accesses an interior stairwell, to get there. He comes back up shortly. “The manager’s locked himself in his office,” he says,”Because of the woman. I can’t get in.” We decide to get showered up and try again later. While I am getting dressed, a maid tries to bust into the room, without knocking, via the OTHER door (also held back by the security latch) and I yell “EXCUSE ME!” as I grab the blankets to cover myself. Hmmm.

Thoroughly ticked, JD goes back down to find out what the hell is going on around here (because of course, we have no phone in the room) and this time the manager lets him in, because Mizz Checker Head is nowhere to be seen. More negotiating happens, and JD returns with half of what we spent on the room, in cash. We go down to breakfast, which the manager has graciously (?) kept for us beyond the regular breakfast hours, once JD reminded him we couldn’t go down for breakfast earlier due to the aforementioned locked office door.

After breakfast we pack up and I return the key to the manager. I caught him in the act of brushing his teeth so I couldn’t really hear him distinctly but I’m pretty sure he hoped we would be back soon and stay at his HoHo again. Yeah. Like that is going to happen. We drive 500 yards to the McDonald’s on the same street to wash the unclean feeling of that room off of our hands and to grab a couple of hot teas for our drive home. Signs on the locked bathroom doors proclaim that we must ask staff to buzz us in. Hmmm.

We just leave town, quickly as possible. JD and I have stayed in a lot of cheap (as well as some quite luxurious) hotels during the course of our travels, but my friends, this experience in the wrong part of town takes the gold in memorable.  And not memorable in a good way.

3. I’m getting nervous about school. I’ve been hearing things from well-meaning people like “forget about reading any novels till you graduate” and “make sure your family is prepared to make sacrifices” (more like BE SACRIFICED on the altar of the MBA gods, I think) and this is a tad upsetting. Then I remember I’ve been through this before, when I did my B. Ed. degree part-time and I calm down…a little bit. It can’t be that much worse than then, can it?

4. JD and I have come to our senses and realize now that there is no way we can move soon, what with graduate school starting in a little over a week. We continue to work on prepping the house – the outside is looking quite nice with the painting I have been doing – but the move will now happen during the month we have off of school in December.

5. I feel soft and puffy. I haven’t been eating right – too much restaurant food and not enough clean eating. Not enough movement. I am going to start back to my regular gym routine again – starting over on the Couch -to-5K running plan, start over on the weight training. I am going back to tracking my food and exercise on MyFitnessPal. Just watch me.

In Which Our Heroine Wants to Crawl into Her Virtual Life and Stay There

Serenity Now...and Always, in Mizz D's Life

If only my life were really like this picture. Neat, tidy and serene. Always a steaming cup of tea at the ready,  in my grown-up version of a sippy cup (which is the most brilliant thing, really…hie thee to a store and get one, if you don’t have one already). Dollar Store Buddha nearby, for constant  inspiration and meditative focus. Healthy, happy greenery contributing to the ambiance.

While my actual  life can be chaotic, here on my blog – in my virtual life – I can create the kind of world of my dreams. By clearing off my meeting table in my office, washing and dusting the surface, and carefully staging the picture to give you the impression of calm and order. Peaceful, ain’t it?

If the tea bag could talk, this is what it would say about the above photo and caption:

Tazo Tag speaks the Truth of the Situation

(And by the by there, Tazo – what gives with the facsimile of an old-timey,  fountain pen-scratched name on the tag? Am I supposed to actually believe that Esq. Joh…something something…etten penned his signature in approval on this very batch of tea, of which I purchased a portion? For shame!)

August is almost over and I am pretty sure I will meet my purge/organize goal but my strength training goal will fall short of the 5+ hours I wanted to achieve. I am not too happy about this, but I must will learn from this and move on.

So, what happened that I couldn’t fit the workouts in? Well, for one thing, I started with a new DVD of 15 minute workouts and holey moley, they made me sore! More sore than I am used to, thanks to Ms. Jackie Warner and her Power Circuit Training.

And for another thing, I didn’t take good care of myself in the sleep department this month either. Early mornings after late nights equals one pretty hairy accumulation of sleep debt, and lack of energy for physical exertion as the body fights to conserve whatever is left, for daily living. Naps help, but in a “band-aid” fashion – nothing beats a good night’s sleep, as I found out on the odd occasion I got one.

Sore, tired, cranky, uninspired. Yep, that was me in August. Thank goddess the month is just about done. Time to focus on the next.

It’s almost September and soon I will be married for one year. Today I worked on this, as a surprise for JD:

First Anniversary: Paper

Shadowbox featuring our wedding invitation – with leftover papers from its creation, unused place cards, JD’s corsage, my throw-away bouquet (that I didn’t), hairpins from the day and sparkly gee-gaws from my actual bouquet (which is still hanging in my office and too big for the box). I sure hope he likes it!