Weekend's Start

The weekend is beginning. I feel happy. A nice change.

Trying Not To Fall Into a Black Hole

I'm not feeling this at all today. Yesterday was a spectacularly bad day, and I'm still feeling it. I consider it a major accomplishment to write this much today.

I've been having some health problems for a couple of months now, and they've been getting me very down.  I've been fighting to not fall into depression because of them. It's not just the problems directly, it's that I finally felt I was on the right track to losing all the weight I need to lose, and that's been totally derailed by the fact that I can't exert any effort without being physically ill.  I can't even mentally concentrate for very long without feeling nauseous.  It's not good for my mini-habits, either.

But after multiple appointments with multiple doctors, they finally think they've figured it out.  I'm having minor surgery next Tuesday which I very much hope will take care of it. That hope is the only thing keeping me from serious depression.

I've been crying frequently and easily, seeing the positive less and the negative more, not enjoying things like I had been, and so on.  It's just too easy to despair.

My DH has been completely wonderful and fully supportive.  I really don't know what I would have done without him.  I love you, Sweetie!

I realize this post is disjointed, but I just don't have the heart to try and clean it up.

STRESS

I've felt totally uninspired lately.  Even my pagan blog stuff has left me blank.  Luckily, last night the universe and my own subconscious conspired to give me something interesting about which to write.

Sometime around 3:30 this morning I had one of my infamous laughing mental breakdowns, therefore ensuring neither DH or I got any appreciable amount of sleep whatsoever.  What happens is I find something totally boring and mundane just hilarious.  Maybe it's funny in some dark and twisted way.  Or maybe it just causes that extra little bit of stress that sends me over the edge.  Either way, I start laughing.  And keep laughing.  I literally can't stop.  I eventually start to cry as well, but I don't stop laughing.  Oh, no.  I'm told by those who have observed it that the laughter is tinged with hysteria, and that the episodes are pretty darn frightening to watch.

These breakdowns have only happened a handful of times in my life, but they're pretty memorable.   They only occur when I've been under large amounts of stress for extended periods, and I guess I just hadn't realized just how stressed I've been.  Maybe that's why I've been so unable to be creative in any way. 

After I finally stopped laugh/crying, after I don't know how much time, I started thinking about what's stressing me out.  I came up with a short but distressing list, and I thought I'd share.

1. The sale of the house a few months ago.  And maybe the stress of NOT selling it the three years before that.
2. The moves, both the one out of that house and especially the one to Texas in a month or two. (And do I count leaving Canada, which I desperately do NOT want to do, here or as a separate entry?)
3. The vacation coming up (in a good way) and all the prep and planning and stuff to do before then.
4. The trouble shipping some art stuff to my mom.  (Loooong story.)
5. The upcoming citizenship stuff--waiting (and waiting and waiting) for Immigration Canada to move forward with it, waiting to take the test, finding all the old paperwork again, etc.
6. REALLY disliking the house we're temporarily renting while trying to be glad we have it (after the two we wanted to rent fell through.)
7. Slowly saying goodbye to all our friends here in Ontario.
8. Absolute lack of creativity.

And, on top of all that, yesterday we discovered some kind of lump on Kai's shoulder.  (Don't worry.  He's going to the vet in an hour.)

I'd already started trying to make myself journal again, due to some depression issues.  Now I need to push harder and get back into meditation and exercise before I start having anxiety attacks (which trnaslate as crying and pain in my chest) again.

Surprisingly, writing this post has actually made me feel better.

[Pagan Blog Project] M is for Mother

While my mother is an amazing person about whom I could write many long posts and sing her praises, this post is not about her.  It's really all about me.  :)

I have for many years now had a problem with the mother part of the maiden-mother-crone cycle.  Or more specifically with my own role in it.  You see, I'm well past maidenhood (VBEG), and I don't think I could be considered into cronehood yet.  (When does that happen, anyway?)  That puts me smack in the middle of the motherhood stage.  The problem is, I have chosen to be child-free, so I feel the title just doesn't apply.  And I don't think I can really count my fur babies.  :)

I am a stepmother, but since I didn't really play a large part in raising my stepdaughter, I rarely felt any kind of maternal stirrings there. And especially now that she's in her twenties, we're really more friends than we ever were mother/daughter.  For her part, she has a mother, she didn't need me in that role.  And that affected me, also.  I never wanted to usurp her mother, so I took a friendship path instead.  And it has worked well for our family, particularly during her teenage years--when she couldn't or wouldn't talk to her parents about anything, she could talk to her friend. 

But does that qualify me as "mother"?  I don't feel like it does.

I am also an aunt, many times over.  And that brings a very special joy.  But I'm sure it doesn't compare to actual motherhood.

I know, I know.  I'm supposed to think of it as being fruitful in other ways, creatively or artistically or professionally or whatever.  And I try to think of it that way.  I really do.  And sometimes I even believe it.  But deep down inside, I never really believe it.  It's too much a part of my culture that "mother" means having children.  It's too much around me to not feel that way at least part of the time.  Does this mean I'm letting others unduly influence my thinking?  My feelings?  Perhaps.  But it is what it is.

And I know I'm not the only one out there who feels this.  It might or might not have worked for our ancestors in following the Old Religion.  But with modern birth control methods, and the modern freedom to choose (mostly) to be child-free, it doesn't necessarily fit anymore.  The problem is not the stage in life, it's the word.  Yes, it has a nice alliteration.  Yes it describes a natural order.  But can't we find a different word?  I notice that in the corresponding male stages "father" is often replaced with "warrior."  I like that.  Why can't we make it maiden-mother/warrior-crone.  Or we could use Matured, Confident, Free, Knows Herself.  The list that describes this stage in a woman's life is endless.

For myself, I like this stage of my life being the 'Warrior" stage, for so many reasons.


  Pagan Blog Project   

HUMANe Behavior

A puppy died in Vaughan Ontario a few days ago.  The @#%$^&*&^*%$#@^&^$ owners left it in a closed car on a hot day.  The amount of rage and frustration and helplessness and sorrow I feel cannot even come close to being expressed here.  I thought I’d gotten it all out.  I’ve cried about it.  I’ve journaled about it.  I’ve created art to try and get it out. And still, as I sit here and type this, I find myself crying again.

This happened in a local mall parking lot.  A MALL!!!  What kind of idiotic moron leaves a dog in a closed up car when they go shopping?!  It’s unacceptable when you run into a convenience store.  It’s atrocious in this situation.  The dog was in obvious distress while emergency workers worked to get it out, but it lapsed into unconsciousness and died before they did.

If you did this to a child, you’d be charged with murder.  If you do it to a dog, or presumably any animal, you get charged with Animal Cruelty, which in most places is little more than a slap on the wrist.  A slap on the wrist for torturing an animal to death.  For essentially cooking it alive.   (To make this particular incident even worse, the worthless owners were returning to Sudbury after attending Woofstock in Toronto.  They were arrested when they finally returned to their car--here’s hoping they get the maximum penalty possible.)

People!  Don’t leave your pets in a closed car on even a warm day!  Temperatures rise to deadly levels in minutes.  And a cracked window DOES NOT HELP!  If you don’t believe it, try it yourself—sit in a closed car in the sun for just a few minutes.  But be careful.  Getting too hot can cause permanent brain damage, in you OR your dog.

THIS is why I avoid the news.

Bittersweet, Part 3

(This is the third in a series of three moments during which I realized that leaving here is not completely without poignant sentiment.)

The third time came Tuesday, as the kitchen was being packed around me.  I was sitting at the kitchen table while half a dozen or so movers (packers?) were moving all over the house, packing and organizing and labeling.  The house is no longer ours, for all intents and purposes.  I typed this on Tuesday, and it doesn’t actually change hands until Friday, but the terms and conditions were met long ago, and with all our belongings slowly disappearing into clouds of paper and mounds of cardboard, we’re all but gone from here.

We plan to sleep here until they actually load our belongings on Thursday, and we won’t be moving into the new place until Friday.  As of today, we can no longer cook here and will be forced to rely on either the microwave or restaurants for our meals until we’re actually unloaded in the new place next Monday.  Because of all this, there is soon to be very little of “us” here.  Once again, there’s that bittersweet feeling.

As I realized this, I decided I needed to make note of these emotions while I was feeling them.  I had planned to write in my BOS about this move, but it was nowhere near me.  Neither was this computer, so I wrote it in our “Moving Notebook,” an inexpensive spiral notebook in which we made notes when we were leaving Vancouver.  We used it on the trip from BC to California, and again when on the move from California to Ontario. 

It probably fits better there than anywhere else.

[Update:  The movers did not finish on Thursday, as was planned.  They need an extra day.  But that's alright, because the buyers ran into a glitch with their paperwork, so they won't actually be taking possession until Monday.  I write this update in an exhausted condition in a hotel.  We still plan to be out tomorrow, move cats to their new home, pick up the boys for a weekend visit in said new home, and collapse in exhaustion.

Wish us luck.]

Bittersweet, Part 2

(This is the second in a series of three moments during which I realized that leaving here is not completely without poignant sentiment.)

The second time was Monday, the first day the movers were here to start the packing and moving process.  I meandered into the living room after it had been packed, and there it was--my spot.  The spot where I sat in this house seven years ago, when it was still empty, waiting for a snow-blower delivery that couldn’t be done any other day.  It was cold that day, but I didn’t want to turn on the heat because I was only going to be there for a short while.  I was a bit early, though, so I wandered through the house, enjoying the space of its emptiness, planning where furniture would go, admiring the snow-covered scenes out the windows, and reveling in the fact that this gorgeous, classic house was now ours.  And I did love it then, despite how I eventually came to feel about it.  (I’d forgotten that.)  Eventually, the time for the delivery came close, and I went down to the living room.  From that room you can see both the street and the driveway.  I lit the gas fireplace for warmth (and for the sheer joy of needing it—we’d just moved here from California, after all.)  I sat there on the floor, listening to my iPod (This was way, way before my iPhone, or even my Touch.  This was one of the original ones with the wheel, the one that only played music.) and trying to read while watching for the delivery truck.  It turned out to be late, so I probably spent close to forty-five minutes there on that spot, leaning against the wall next to the fireplace.  The snow-blower eventually arrived (the same one that we sold to our neighbor last week.)

We placed a storage chest in that spot, so I never really saw it or even thought about it again.  Until yesterday, when I remembered that once upon a time, on a cold, lonely morning, I knew it well.

Remembering it is…bittersweet.

Bittersweet – Part 1

I didn’t think THIS move would be bittersweet.  After all, we’ve been waiting to sell this house for close to three years now.  And we’re just basically moving down the road.  We’re still staying here in Ontario, still staying in Canada.  We’re not particularly close to any of our neighbors, or to the area.  There’s no reason to not want to move forward.  But it’s still just a bit sad.  This is the third time I’ve actually slowed down enough to realize that. 

(I started writing this and realized that it was getting too long, so I’ve decided to split it into three parts.  Today I’ll cover the first instance.)

The first time I felt it was when our “puppies” left to go to Dogs in the Park this past Sunday.  (They’re enjoying a week-long vacation there to help alleviate moving stress, for them and for us.)  As we were getting ready to leave that morning, I realized they wouldn’t ever see this house, and especially this yard, again.  Now, they have no idea.  They’ve never REALLY moved before.  But I knew, and I was sad for them.  This is where we brought them home.  This is where they grew up, where they met each other, where Lance both met and said goodbye to Merly.  This is where they learned to love the cold and snow of winter, savor the cooling winds of autumn, and hate the humid heat of summer.   This is where they learned to enjoy wading pools, sprinklers, and hoses, and where Lance taught Kai to chase him.  This is where they always came back to after a long day of play, a day of training, or after a stressful stay at temporary quarters.  This is the only place they’ve ever known as home. 

At the same time, they’ll be going on to new homes and new adventures, and they’ll still be with their peeps. They’ll meet new people who will love them, and they’ll expand their horizons. They’ll be exposed to new things, which is good for them.  Perhaps most importantly, this is good practice for the BIG move coming next fall.  They’re gaining many, many good things at the same time they’re losing some.

 So this is, as the title reads, bittersweet.  

Shocking

 A personal update:

DH came back from his business trip to China two weeks ago to be told that thanks to his employer going in a new direction, his position was being dissolved, and he no longer had a job.  Effective immediately.  On literally his first day back, he drove in as usual, then called me about an hour after he’d arrived to let me know he was coming back home.

 “Why?” I asked, worried that he was ill. 

“I’ve been laid off,” he answered quietly.

Now, if this has never happened in your family (and I fervently hope that it both hasn’t and never does) you can’t quite imagine the sudden terror that grips you at this sudden news.  There is a quick moment of panic—what will we do?  What about the bills?  The mortgage?  Groceries?  Aaaaaaaagh!!!!!!!!

But it has happened to both of us, both together and separately, before, so reason quickly re-asserted itself.  You make a plan to survive.  You stop spending any money at all that is not ABSOLUTELY necessary, you contact the bank and ask to skip a couple of mortgage payments, you start making a list of things you can sell if you must, you check into unemployment benefits, you thank whatever deities you hold dear that you began storing food and preparing for disaster a few weeks ago, so you have at least a small cushion of food to fall back on.  And so on.

DH started making phone calls to everyone he knows in his industry (micro-chips) on his way home that day, and has spent a lot of time since emailing more people, applying for jobs, and sending out resumes.  As I told a friend recently, I myself am simply trying to be supportive.  Together, we’ll be performing a ritual on the full moon for a new job.  (“When the moon rides at her peak, then your heart’s desire seek.”)  In the meantime, we’ll try our best to stay positive.

It’s not that hard, really.  There are a number of silver linings to his losing this job.

• He and I will have more time together, something we’ve sorely been missing the last two and a half years.
• He really, really hated the job.  Besides the long commute (an hour or more one-way) and the even longer hours, there were conference calls scheduled to start at 9:30 pm on some nights, and phone calls at all hours of the day and night, even on weekends, even on supposed vacation days.
• I really, really hated the job.  We got to spend very little time together, as I mentioned above, and he was often answering phone calls or email in that little time.  Thanks to the company’s quasi-human rights violations attitude, I wound up spending Thanksgiving alone one year and Ostara alone this year—both times because of last-minute trips to Asia that couldn’t or wouldn’t  be postponed.  He was even asked to come in on Yule itself, in the middle of a three-week “vacation” last year.  And he was always depressed and/or stressed out, and always, always sleep-deprived.
• We will no longer have to pay $500 in toll-road charges every month.
• His embarkation on a job search gives us both motivation to start diets and an exercise program.
• Even though we may be forced to sell the house at a loss, we will finally sell the house (if we need to move)!!!
• The possibilities that come with a new job and a move to a new place are always interesting and exciting.

 And, finally,

• CHANGE IS GOOD.

 

I remain confident that an experienced engineer such as my DH WILL be able to find a job.  And if not, then at least with our Permanent Resident status we won’t be forced to leave Canada again.

Anyone know of a good Product Engineering position?

The (Bad) News Media

". . . it’s painful to turn on the news. "

So I read in Willamette Star.  This prompted me to comment:

"This is exactly why I stopped watching the news and reading newspapers.  Since I did, I've been a much less stressed, much happier person.  It's not that I don't want to know what's going on, it's that the news media focus SO much on the bad, depressing, anger-inducing issues in life.  I still hear about what's going on, from friends or items floating around the 'net, but without all the lets-get-the-ratings-up/sell-more-copies drama."

I made a conscious decision to stop watching the news about 4 years ago.  I realized that every time I did, I would get physically stressed and emotionally depressed.  I would sometimes feel angry for hours after, and occasionally I'd break down and cry.

When I finally became consciously aware of the problem, I stopped and asked myself why it was so upsetting.  Was there something wrong with me?  Was I just a basket-case?  I found out that no, it wasn't me, it was them.  Good news doesn't get ratings, or sell papers.  At least not like bad news does.  Sure, every once in a while they throw in something uplifting, like a good sports score or a local hero saving a child, but for the most part it's all about people and situations being horrible, scary, evil, and generally unpleasant.

When I stopped watching, I became a better person.  I'm definitely happier, I like people better on a day-to-day basis, and I don't have such a bleak view of humanity in the large sense.  Sure, I occasionally miss out on some big story, but it's definitely worth the price!

What is your news program talking about tonight?

Holiday Blahs

Sorry I haven't written in a while, but I've had fairly little to write about.  Unless you count being cold, cold, cold after our furnace went out and the subsequent replacement of said furnace.  Not really interesting stuff.

I was talking to my mother yesterday, and she has about a gazillion activities planned for the next couple of weeks.  Me?  I don't have a one.  Nor am I upset about that--I just can't seem to get into the holiday spirit this year.  (I think it was the whole furnace problem that really put a damper on things, and maybe feeling down for US Thanksgiving started it.)

At any rate, we haven't decorated, not at all.  We haven't put the tree up or made our library-turned-ritual-room seasonally appropriate or put the wreaths up.  We certainly haven't put up holiday lights.  Even our altar sits bare and unadorned.  And with every day that passes, the very idea of doing any of it grows more futile.

We're playing with the idea of camping for Yule.  I'm really wondering about it after being cold all last week, but DH is really excited by the notion.  If we do, it means we won't have not-decorated the house in vain--we won't be here to have enjoyed the decorations anyway!

That thought actually does cheer me!