It's been years and years since I have 'called in sick to work'. In fact I think the only time I remember ever doing so was when it was required by ... toilet to comply. Since then I have not needed to.
As you know yesterday was different.
Usually one easily knows what to do on a regular sick day. I mean you're sick, so you stay in bed, sleep, have soup, sip gingerale and have naps all day. Perhaps with brief trips to the toilet for one end or the other.
Well yesterday wasn't what one normally is used to for a sick day. I knew beyond a doubt I should not be at work sharing my unstable emotional state with bursts of tears and fits of grief. I knew it was safer for all involved for me to take a bit of time to let my emotions have a rest and for my mind to take a break to solve the mystery of Bee's death and to rather just think on her life.
After the first couple of hours passed I admittedly felt guilty for taking the day off. I mean at that point I felt fine. Of course, I had to remind myself that 'at that point' I wasn't being frustrated by my perceptions of injustice of someone I was supporting, or solving a bank emergency, or dealing with someone yelling at me for not letting them have more for breakfast.
Nope, at that point I was home, in my pjs without any intention of being productive. In this scenario it was pretty easy to be 'ok'.
I wasn't exactly sure on how I should get myself better mentally. What's the exact prescription for one's mental or emotional instability at a given moment. The day before had clearly shown me that I needed to be home, away from the emotions of my job and pressures of being someone's support system.
Hmmmmm, makes me wonder if I can get myself a support worker....
Anyways, I decided that the first thing I would do in my day is something that would bring me joy.
For me yesterday, that meant collecting up and rolling the money I had received from 5 of the jars I had received back for Compasio. So I did.
I rolled more pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters than I knew even existed. After counting up all of the rolls and bills I had collected a $470 deposit that would be paired with at least a hundred and fifty dollar donation. This would put my Compasio total up to nearly $2000!!! I was thrilled. This indeed was a good activity to do to feel better.
Once that was complete I looked at the clock. Only 9am. I decided that if I was home sick I should sit on the couch in the living room with lots of blankets, the fireplace on and the furnace turned up a couple of degrees (you know, to prevent a chill) with a good book.
So I did.
I picked up a book I got for Christmas called 'The Happiness Project'. I'm 2/3rds of the way through and I was on a good chapter for the day at hand. Though it's not the best book I've ever read, it's given me tidbits of thought to chew on which I've enjoyed.
I read for a while. A whole chapter even (which is amazing to accomplish in one sitting these days). After that I thought I might be ready to blog my feelings which was yesterday's post.
By then the clock told me it was time to eat, so I did.
I then decided to watch pointless tv with my dogs.
I had a spurt of energy during this time so I cut up hundreds (at least it felt like hundreds) of boxes too big to put into recycling until broken down then I tied them up. We'd been avoiding this task since we moved. Now it's almost done. This felt good.
I then figured I bake Wally and I a clean treat. So I made biscotti. The house smelled so yummy.
After this I resorted back to blogging and wrote a post I have not and may not post. Then returned to reading with an interruption call from work. Then Wally came home.
By the end of the day I felt guilty for ever taking the day off. I mean I felt fine. I felt good. As long as I wasn't being stretched emotionally and didn't have to think about the tragedy that had occurred I was ok.
Except that in my job (and so many others) you can't go into work without daily being emotionally stretched. And if you are not 'ok' on a good day you certainly won't be 'ok' on a bad one.
I also realized the whole point of taking a day off was to recover and to feel better. The whole point is to feel better by the end of the day (or couple of days) than you did when you started your break. No one should ever feel guilty for taking care of themselves.
I am beginning to wonder though if more than a day off is needed. Is this field a good fit for me if my emotional and mental state can't keep up with it's demands? I'm not sure. I often compare myself to other workers and see nothing good in myself in this field. I often only recognize myself as a failure because I'm not as relaxed as some or because I don't love doing long trips. I feel bad that I don't care to do more time at work than I have to. I find myself so often admiring so many of my co workers and wondering why I'm not as gifted in this work as they are.
All of these are selfish acts as they focus so much on myself but they are things I think about.
I day dreamed today about taking a month of to just think and daydream and do stuff around the house. Just to live in my house and spend time with friends and help family that need it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing exactly what I should be doing right now.
I feel kinda bad for thinking these things. I know that taking a month off wouldn't solve my problems or reveal all of life's truths, but it does get me excited to think about.
My hope is that perhaps I can settle my mind a bit more in the days to come so I can enjoy the life I have more and know where my limits lie. What's best for me.
If you could wish to do something different for a little while, what would it be?
Friday, January 21, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Take care of yourself
I'm not sure how to start this post. Sad news is difficult to share...
This past Tuesday morning, after for missing for 1 week, police found Bee's body not too awfully far from her car, under the snow.
Apparently Bee's car was found behind a shed that was on the lot of a cemetery that was on a rural road outside of a small town. There are no apparent links as to why she would be at that cemetery. Now there is an autopsy being done on her body to see how she died.
No one will ever truly know why Bee called in sick to work without telling her family and then went off for a drive to a cemetery. However there will be many theories.
Only Bee and God know.
I wonder if she woke up that day numb from a previously bad day at work (so I've been told) feeling helpless to the overall solution. Decided to take her sadness privately with her to grieve any feelings of hopefulness that could exist, and went to think. Perhaps she just wanted to consider the thoughts of a hope filled life and thought of her spirituality and the promises that death with salvation hold (in her faith). Perhaps she just needed to spend some time alone with those promises.
I wonder if, while on a walk and thinking, she was overcome with emotion and was finally able to release the sadness. As she let go of the pent up emotions more were found. Maybe she continued to walk and walk hoping that a little more time and a bit more release would bring healing and maybe hope.
Is it then she lost track of time? Is it then she forgot about the in climate weather? Is it then she lost sight of where she was and couldn't find her way out of the brush?
Again, this is only a guess. A wondering at best.
It's amazing how finding her body can bring a sense of relief, a sense of peace (in some small way). While at the same time the confirmation of what people had really hoped wasn't true had indeed happened can be like a punch in the gut.
I sit here now trying to figure it out. Trying to understand why I feel particularly connected to her sadness, to her story (aside from the personal relational connection).
Maybe it's because I've felt that feeling hopelessness before. When I wondered if anyone would notice if I was gone. I remember the years I worked at the church how much I loved my job and yet was so distressed by it at the same time.
I loved the kids. They were a complete joy (most of the time). I felt privileged to know them in the way that I did. I loved hearing their take on the world. I loved making them feel heard and enjoyed.
One little girl told me after kids club one day 'Eva, you know EVERYTHING'. This gave me such a laugh but warmed my heart at the same time. They believed everything you told them, trusted you and admired you, just for who you were.
One day shortly after I'd announced that my time as their youth worker was coming to an end, Pastor D. and Bee's youngest daughter said: 'My mom said you are the best youth worker that we'll ever have because you really care about us and love God.' When I heard that that day, I knew I'd done my job well as this was not only coming from a parent of one of 'my kids' but from a woman who'd grown up in 'the ministry' as a pastor's kid and seen her share of 'paid staff'.
The down side to the job was going at it alone. Not having help or people that understood what I was doing. People saw you once a week and assumed that's all the work you put into it. They weren't around for the noon hour lunched I shared with different teens. Or when those teen stood me up. They had no idea how much energy was put into praying that the kid that just went down the tobogganing hill wouldn't crash into the tree. Or that so and so wouldn't sleep with her boyfriend at the ripe age of 14. They were there when all of my energy went into 'keeping it together' when everything was falling apart.
I remember the summer I'd realized I needed to take a month off. I'd realized I was burnt out. I went to some one on some committee who said they'd back me and in the end I had to face a mom of one of the kids in my group who was an elder at the church. She made sure I only got my two weeks of vacation and not a cent more. She also made it clear to me that there was no reason I should ever feel justified in taking that month off (even though I never took ANYTIME off at all in my time there).
I knew the pressures of working for a church at the level of a half time staff, but no doubt that wasn't as crucial as being the Pastor's wife who had better participate in the right amount of activities, dress appropriately at all times, parent her children to perfection and have the right attitude always on display.
Now I am not saying it was the pressures of church life that saddened Bee, I could never know that. Only that they are issues that she would've had to carry with her along with a job in the human services field. One that so often sucks that life out of you, even when you know it where you are meant to be.
I guess I just want to say that IF Bee was depressed or sad, I understand. If she wanted to leave this situation (unintentionally or not), I understand. If she just couldn't take the pressures anymore, I understand.
If you are wondering if I'm suicidal or depressed right now, don't worry I'm not.
I am deeply and profoundly moved by Bee's loss and especially the situation surrounding it. I've mentioned before feeling too deeply sometimes. Well, this is a time it is happening.
I don't get this way over everyone that dies. In fact some times I take on my mother's 'matter of fact' attitude about it. 'Yeah, they were 84, get over it, it was time for them to go.' And that's the end of it.
However in times where I can experience the process of their loss (if it is drawn out or unexpected) I feel deeply. I am thankful I'm not like this with every loss or I'd be in my bed all day. Sometimes empathy is a buggar.
I heard confirmation of Bee's death soon after it was posted on line. At first I felt nothing and I thought 'wow I guess I grieved early'. Then I went about my work day and with the emotions of where I was working mixed with the hidden emotions of my grief, I quickly realized I may need time. I carried through as I kept reminding myself that I had no right to be paralized by this. A co worker friend showed up out of nowhere to relieve me of my evening shift and she told me to go home. I didn't know what to do. What would I do at home? How could I justify this? Instead she offered to just be with me and that made things better.
It wasnt' until I went to work Wednesday morning and began to cry on the way I knew that I probably shouldn't have gone. I met the first lady I saw and by the time I was pouring her meds (as she was yelling at me - which is a normal thing) I was bawling and saying 'Please stop, I've had a bad week'. To which she replied 'Yeah, yeah, I've had a bad week'. I nearly made an error while I was at it and it was then I knew that I needed a day to just stop.
The problem was I didn't understand why. Why should I get a day off when it was someone else's grief, someone else's family? I kept reminding myself it's not about me. I shouldn't make someone else's problem my own.
However, today I sit here and write while I'd normally be working. Because I am lucky to be surrounded by people that understand the importance of mental health. The importance of not creating your own crazy.
I'm not sure why I feel so prone to breakdowns (or near breakdowns). I guess some people have better immune systems than others.
I do know that taking a day or two to take care of yourself when you need to is important. As important as life or death.
Today I am thinking of Bee with love and remembering her laughter and smile with joy. She is at peace in the arms of her Father.
This past Tuesday morning, after for missing for 1 week, police found Bee's body not too awfully far from her car, under the snow.
Apparently Bee's car was found behind a shed that was on the lot of a cemetery that was on a rural road outside of a small town. There are no apparent links as to why she would be at that cemetery. Now there is an autopsy being done on her body to see how she died.
No one will ever truly know why Bee called in sick to work without telling her family and then went off for a drive to a cemetery. However there will be many theories.
Only Bee and God know.
I wonder if she woke up that day numb from a previously bad day at work (so I've been told) feeling helpless to the overall solution. Decided to take her sadness privately with her to grieve any feelings of hopefulness that could exist, and went to think. Perhaps she just wanted to consider the thoughts of a hope filled life and thought of her spirituality and the promises that death with salvation hold (in her faith). Perhaps she just needed to spend some time alone with those promises.
I wonder if, while on a walk and thinking, she was overcome with emotion and was finally able to release the sadness. As she let go of the pent up emotions more were found. Maybe she continued to walk and walk hoping that a little more time and a bit more release would bring healing and maybe hope.
Is it then she lost track of time? Is it then she forgot about the in climate weather? Is it then she lost sight of where she was and couldn't find her way out of the brush?
Again, this is only a guess. A wondering at best.
It's amazing how finding her body can bring a sense of relief, a sense of peace (in some small way). While at the same time the confirmation of what people had really hoped wasn't true had indeed happened can be like a punch in the gut.
I sit here now trying to figure it out. Trying to understand why I feel particularly connected to her sadness, to her story (aside from the personal relational connection).
Maybe it's because I've felt that feeling hopelessness before. When I wondered if anyone would notice if I was gone. I remember the years I worked at the church how much I loved my job and yet was so distressed by it at the same time.
I loved the kids. They were a complete joy (most of the time). I felt privileged to know them in the way that I did. I loved hearing their take on the world. I loved making them feel heard and enjoyed.
One little girl told me after kids club one day 'Eva, you know EVERYTHING'. This gave me such a laugh but warmed my heart at the same time. They believed everything you told them, trusted you and admired you, just for who you were.
One day shortly after I'd announced that my time as their youth worker was coming to an end, Pastor D. and Bee's youngest daughter said: 'My mom said you are the best youth worker that we'll ever have because you really care about us and love God.' When I heard that that day, I knew I'd done my job well as this was not only coming from a parent of one of 'my kids' but from a woman who'd grown up in 'the ministry' as a pastor's kid and seen her share of 'paid staff'.
The down side to the job was going at it alone. Not having help or people that understood what I was doing. People saw you once a week and assumed that's all the work you put into it. They weren't around for the noon hour lunched I shared with different teens. Or when those teen stood me up. They had no idea how much energy was put into praying that the kid that just went down the tobogganing hill wouldn't crash into the tree. Or that so and so wouldn't sleep with her boyfriend at the ripe age of 14. They were there when all of my energy went into 'keeping it together' when everything was falling apart.
I remember the summer I'd realized I needed to take a month off. I'd realized I was burnt out. I went to some one on some committee who said they'd back me and in the end I had to face a mom of one of the kids in my group who was an elder at the church. She made sure I only got my two weeks of vacation and not a cent more. She also made it clear to me that there was no reason I should ever feel justified in taking that month off (even though I never took ANYTIME off at all in my time there).
I knew the pressures of working for a church at the level of a half time staff, but no doubt that wasn't as crucial as being the Pastor's wife who had better participate in the right amount of activities, dress appropriately at all times, parent her children to perfection and have the right attitude always on display.
Now I am not saying it was the pressures of church life that saddened Bee, I could never know that. Only that they are issues that she would've had to carry with her along with a job in the human services field. One that so often sucks that life out of you, even when you know it where you are meant to be.
I guess I just want to say that IF Bee was depressed or sad, I understand. If she wanted to leave this situation (unintentionally or not), I understand. If she just couldn't take the pressures anymore, I understand.
If you are wondering if I'm suicidal or depressed right now, don't worry I'm not.
I am deeply and profoundly moved by Bee's loss and especially the situation surrounding it. I've mentioned before feeling too deeply sometimes. Well, this is a time it is happening.
I don't get this way over everyone that dies. In fact some times I take on my mother's 'matter of fact' attitude about it. 'Yeah, they were 84, get over it, it was time for them to go.' And that's the end of it.
However in times where I can experience the process of their loss (if it is drawn out or unexpected) I feel deeply. I am thankful I'm not like this with every loss or I'd be in my bed all day. Sometimes empathy is a buggar.
I heard confirmation of Bee's death soon after it was posted on line. At first I felt nothing and I thought 'wow I guess I grieved early'. Then I went about my work day and with the emotions of where I was working mixed with the hidden emotions of my grief, I quickly realized I may need time. I carried through as I kept reminding myself that I had no right to be paralized by this. A co worker friend showed up out of nowhere to relieve me of my evening shift and she told me to go home. I didn't know what to do. What would I do at home? How could I justify this? Instead she offered to just be with me and that made things better.
It wasnt' until I went to work Wednesday morning and began to cry on the way I knew that I probably shouldn't have gone. I met the first lady I saw and by the time I was pouring her meds (as she was yelling at me - which is a normal thing) I was bawling and saying 'Please stop, I've had a bad week'. To which she replied 'Yeah, yeah, I've had a bad week'. I nearly made an error while I was at it and it was then I knew that I needed a day to just stop.
The problem was I didn't understand why. Why should I get a day off when it was someone else's grief, someone else's family? I kept reminding myself it's not about me. I shouldn't make someone else's problem my own.
However, today I sit here and write while I'd normally be working. Because I am lucky to be surrounded by people that understand the importance of mental health. The importance of not creating your own crazy.
I'm not sure why I feel so prone to breakdowns (or near breakdowns). I guess some people have better immune systems than others.
I do know that taking a day or two to take care of yourself when you need to is important. As important as life or death.
Today I am thinking of Bee with love and remembering her laughter and smile with joy. She is at peace in the arms of her Father.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
My therapy
Today I decided to give myself some therapy around my missing friend. I went back to my old church to be with the church family that no doubt would be going through a tough time today.
When I brought the idea of visiting up to Wally he wasn't sure about going himself. I understand why. We generally only go at Christmas time now and maybe once throughout the year if my extended family (who are musicians) are visiting and doing some special music. Otherwise I've distanced myself due to geography and the fact that initially it was a very difficult departure to make, quitting a job that I really did love. He didn't want to appear out of a display.
I knew though, for me, my only option was to go. To visit. To be. With my old church family and friends and to gain some sort of mutual support during this unsettling time. I needed to.
I set off this morning and went. As I rolled into the parking lot I wondered what awaited me. Would people be weeping? Would they have their heads down? Would they be able to even speak? I didn't know what discomfort may be behind the large old doors when I pulled them open. I soon found out.
I quietly entered only to meet two smiling greeters and little groups of old people milling about chatting quietly about the funeral of a long time member yesterday (a wonderful lady) and of course whisperings of Bee's disappearance.
For some reason I expected people that remembered me to know why I'd be there but the first person that greeted me had a bright smile and 'How ya doing? good to see you!' and a firm hand shake. Really? Hello, I'm here to pray, be somber and possibly grab some hope somewhere. Why the heck are you acting like nothing has happened? I was instantly annoyed.
I found my grandmother sitting with her love and a friend of hers. She expected me, knew why I was there and gave me a side hug. I sat and gave little waves to different people sitting through out the congregation (mostly kids I worked with). they seemed to know.
I was holding it together pretty well until a lady I'd worked very closely in the Sunday School came and sat down with her husband and our friends in front of us. She asked a heartfelt 'How are you?' I answered 'Alright' and hoped we'd connect without speaking and be able to chat later. Unfortunately she held my gaze and I completely lost it and began to silent cry until I couldn't breathe. I covered my face up to my eyes with my bulletin while she quickly gave me her hand and held onto mine. She would not let go.
I gasped for air which made it very obvious that I was not 'alright' and we sat hand in hand. Her not letting go of my eyes either.
This may sound like a logical womanly thing for us to do as we are friends but I have to say neither of us are 'that way' under any normal circumstances. We're both pretty tough, find emotions uncomfortable and read the other like a book and would prefer giving space knowing that's what the other one needs. We generally find comfort in these things. Today was different, but that was ok because it needed to be.
Though there were several people with tears, and a few with red noses, mostly people held things together and the service carried on with a light tone to it. I was glad there were a few that shared my outward emotions. I barely held myself together, and at times didn't even do that.
The choir sang a song that irritated me as much as anything they sang would. I was just not ready for anything spiritual at all. I just wanted to throw anything 'comforting' out the window. I'll be honest, sometimes it just makes me mad.
I was very impressed though that the choir even sang as Bee is a faithful choir member and quite musical, her voice and presence were noticeably missed. I don't know how they were able to stand and sing.
To top it off Bee's oldest daughter's mother in law is also in the choir and she was there, singing and stayed throughout the service. I really was impressed. I couldn't imagine.
I won't lie. The service itself, to me, felt cold and empty. Probably because Pastor D., even with a slow, quiet voice, was always so strong, paced and thoughtful in his speech. This is something that used to annoy me in our conversations but calmed me in his services. There was volume in his silences. Pastor D. wasn't there today though and the silences were gaping holes in the hour long time slot.
The gentleman that took the service did well considering the incredible pressure he must have felt. He did his best to delicately address the issue yet bring a light laugh at the same time. He mentioned chatting for 40 minutes with Pastor D. before the service and shared bits and pieces of that conversation. It brought comfort to people knowing somewhat directly how the family was doing. And that was apparently quite well considering. He even shared Scripture that Pastor D. wanted the congregation to think on (one of the verses was Romans 8:28 my favourite 'All things work together for good to those that love the Lord').
The speaker even told of how the younger daughter of Bee (16 yrs) said 'If one more person asks me what they can do, I'm going to tell them 'Buy me a pony''. This brought a brief and needed chuckle throughout the church.
After the service I met up with my grandmother and half of the congregation at Wendy's only to over hear muffled talk of what I'm sure most older people (and maybe not so older) were thinking: 'Well, I can't imagine her leaving her family. If that's the case how could she do that, just walk out?'. 'It's so strange for her to just disappear'. 'Blah, blah, blah...'
Though I've engaged in the same sort of discussion over the past few days hearing their banter bothered me to no end. It seemed so matter-of-fact and cold. This was somebody's mother, someone's daughter, someone's wife and all of our friend. How can we just talk that way? They seemed not to identify with the potential despair she was feeling (IF that even happened).
I can only hope my chatting was with heart felt feeling, empathy and care. Not that that would make me better I guess, but hopefully at least a wee bit more .... something.
I e-mailed three friends that I knew I could comfortably share my feelings with for my desired need for prayer. People that for one: would pray and for two: would not judge me for asking for prayer, not only for Bee's family but also for myself.
In the e-mail I had noted that I realized that it was likely selfish of me to request prayer when I wasn't directly involved in Bee's life anymore, but I had to admit that I was feeling more than I thought I could comfortably handle.
In response my closest friend said 'Eva you have a tender heart and you care, that's not selfish' (paraphrasing). I don't think of myself as tenderhearted ... at all.
I've discussed with Wally both my recent and past issues with heart wrenching situations that have come up. I have a history of not dealing with them very well emotionally. I call myself crazy (as I feel, compared to others, that's what I am). Wally told my tonight that he thought that I perhaps over empathize when others go through things and I feel what they are going through very deeply. I had never thought about it like that.
Yesterday I wept for ten minutes as I was curled up in a ball on the floor of the bathtub during my first shower in four days (don't worry I hadn't left the house during two of them). The water barely qualified as warm and there was little comfortable about it, but it was a place I could release without judgment, from myself or others. I love the shower.
There are two circumstances I feel as though I connect with easily and deeply and grieve greatly when they occur. Any kind of injustice to a vulnerable person, and those struggling with depression, especially if they are not seen as depressed. Likely because I've been both.
Or because I may be crazy. Who knows?
What I do know is that it pains me to see people in pain. It pains me even more to see people I love in pain.
I can only hope that I am sensitive enough to sense when I have the opportunity to be part of someone's healing rather than part of their infection.
As far as Bee's case goes I had a phone call tonight saying that her vehicle was finally found (after 5 agonizing days) but no Bee. The location has not been shared as the police want to investigate further before media are notified and evidence contaminated.
For now ... hope lives.
When I brought the idea of visiting up to Wally he wasn't sure about going himself. I understand why. We generally only go at Christmas time now and maybe once throughout the year if my extended family (who are musicians) are visiting and doing some special music. Otherwise I've distanced myself due to geography and the fact that initially it was a very difficult departure to make, quitting a job that I really did love. He didn't want to appear out of a display.
I knew though, for me, my only option was to go. To visit. To be. With my old church family and friends and to gain some sort of mutual support during this unsettling time. I needed to.
I set off this morning and went. As I rolled into the parking lot I wondered what awaited me. Would people be weeping? Would they have their heads down? Would they be able to even speak? I didn't know what discomfort may be behind the large old doors when I pulled them open. I soon found out.
I quietly entered only to meet two smiling greeters and little groups of old people milling about chatting quietly about the funeral of a long time member yesterday (a wonderful lady) and of course whisperings of Bee's disappearance.
For some reason I expected people that remembered me to know why I'd be there but the first person that greeted me had a bright smile and 'How ya doing? good to see you!' and a firm hand shake. Really? Hello, I'm here to pray, be somber and possibly grab some hope somewhere. Why the heck are you acting like nothing has happened? I was instantly annoyed.
I found my grandmother sitting with her love and a friend of hers. She expected me, knew why I was there and gave me a side hug. I sat and gave little waves to different people sitting through out the congregation (mostly kids I worked with). they seemed to know.
I was holding it together pretty well until a lady I'd worked very closely in the Sunday School came and sat down with her husband and our friends in front of us. She asked a heartfelt 'How are you?' I answered 'Alright' and hoped we'd connect without speaking and be able to chat later. Unfortunately she held my gaze and I completely lost it and began to silent cry until I couldn't breathe. I covered my face up to my eyes with my bulletin while she quickly gave me her hand and held onto mine. She would not let go.
I gasped for air which made it very obvious that I was not 'alright' and we sat hand in hand. Her not letting go of my eyes either.
This may sound like a logical womanly thing for us to do as we are friends but I have to say neither of us are 'that way' under any normal circumstances. We're both pretty tough, find emotions uncomfortable and read the other like a book and would prefer giving space knowing that's what the other one needs. We generally find comfort in these things. Today was different, but that was ok because it needed to be.
Though there were several people with tears, and a few with red noses, mostly people held things together and the service carried on with a light tone to it. I was glad there were a few that shared my outward emotions. I barely held myself together, and at times didn't even do that.
The choir sang a song that irritated me as much as anything they sang would. I was just not ready for anything spiritual at all. I just wanted to throw anything 'comforting' out the window. I'll be honest, sometimes it just makes me mad.
I was very impressed though that the choir even sang as Bee is a faithful choir member and quite musical, her voice and presence were noticeably missed. I don't know how they were able to stand and sing.
To top it off Bee's oldest daughter's mother in law is also in the choir and she was there, singing and stayed throughout the service. I really was impressed. I couldn't imagine.
I won't lie. The service itself, to me, felt cold and empty. Probably because Pastor D., even with a slow, quiet voice, was always so strong, paced and thoughtful in his speech. This is something that used to annoy me in our conversations but calmed me in his services. There was volume in his silences. Pastor D. wasn't there today though and the silences were gaping holes in the hour long time slot.
The gentleman that took the service did well considering the incredible pressure he must have felt. He did his best to delicately address the issue yet bring a light laugh at the same time. He mentioned chatting for 40 minutes with Pastor D. before the service and shared bits and pieces of that conversation. It brought comfort to people knowing somewhat directly how the family was doing. And that was apparently quite well considering. He even shared Scripture that Pastor D. wanted the congregation to think on (one of the verses was Romans 8:28 my favourite 'All things work together for good to those that love the Lord').
The speaker even told of how the younger daughter of Bee (16 yrs) said 'If one more person asks me what they can do, I'm going to tell them 'Buy me a pony''. This brought a brief and needed chuckle throughout the church.
After the service I met up with my grandmother and half of the congregation at Wendy's only to over hear muffled talk of what I'm sure most older people (and maybe not so older) were thinking: 'Well, I can't imagine her leaving her family. If that's the case how could she do that, just walk out?'. 'It's so strange for her to just disappear'. 'Blah, blah, blah...'
Though I've engaged in the same sort of discussion over the past few days hearing their banter bothered me to no end. It seemed so matter-of-fact and cold. This was somebody's mother, someone's daughter, someone's wife and all of our friend. How can we just talk that way? They seemed not to identify with the potential despair she was feeling (IF that even happened).
I can only hope my chatting was with heart felt feeling, empathy and care. Not that that would make me better I guess, but hopefully at least a wee bit more .... something.
I e-mailed three friends that I knew I could comfortably share my feelings with for my desired need for prayer. People that for one: would pray and for two: would not judge me for asking for prayer, not only for Bee's family but also for myself.
In the e-mail I had noted that I realized that it was likely selfish of me to request prayer when I wasn't directly involved in Bee's life anymore, but I had to admit that I was feeling more than I thought I could comfortably handle.
In response my closest friend said 'Eva you have a tender heart and you care, that's not selfish' (paraphrasing). I don't think of myself as tenderhearted ... at all.
I've discussed with Wally both my recent and past issues with heart wrenching situations that have come up. I have a history of not dealing with them very well emotionally. I call myself crazy (as I feel, compared to others, that's what I am). Wally told my tonight that he thought that I perhaps over empathize when others go through things and I feel what they are going through very deeply. I had never thought about it like that.
Yesterday I wept for ten minutes as I was curled up in a ball on the floor of the bathtub during my first shower in four days (don't worry I hadn't left the house during two of them). The water barely qualified as warm and there was little comfortable about it, but it was a place I could release without judgment, from myself or others. I love the shower.
There are two circumstances I feel as though I connect with easily and deeply and grieve greatly when they occur. Any kind of injustice to a vulnerable person, and those struggling with depression, especially if they are not seen as depressed. Likely because I've been both.
Or because I may be crazy. Who knows?
What I do know is that it pains me to see people in pain. It pains me even more to see people I love in pain.
I can only hope that I am sensitive enough to sense when I have the opportunity to be part of someone's healing rather than part of their infection.
As far as Bee's case goes I had a phone call tonight saying that her vehicle was finally found (after 5 agonizing days) but no Bee. The location has not been shared as the police want to investigate further before media are notified and evidence contaminated.
For now ... hope lives.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Hope
Well, I've sort of been avoiding this all day but I know it's something that is in my heart to share as it's been on my mind nearly every minute since I heard.
Wednesday morning I was at work doing a yearly training course. When it was over I checked my cell phone for any texts from Wally. Sure enough there was one waiting. But this time it was not the usual 'Miss you hope you're having a good day'. Nope. Instead it was one that made my stomach turn and my heart sink.
It said: 'I read in the paper today that Bee D. is missing'.
It took me a moment or two to put into context the name, but once I did I could barely believe it.
For 7 years I was a youth worker at a church. I did this over the span of eight years.
Pastor D. started working at the church 6 months after I did. We got to know each other quickly as he was quiet but forthright with what he believed. I was openly relieved that he was the 'real deal' in his faith walk and that I would get the privilege to work beside someone who would understand my heart and support my efforts. He was a good man.
Along with Pastor D. came Bee his wife and their two daughters, one who was 14 and the other was I believe just turning 6 years of age.
They were the perfect family. Bee was ever so obliging and never went without a smile and positive word (really, I NEVER saw her grumpy or negative ever).
I got to know them well as we shared a meal together early on and then went on to lead their girls in the mid week activities as well as on Sunday mornings for the 7 years I was at the church. I got to see them grow, mature and even see the oldest get married (well I wasn't at the wedding but you get the idea).
Pastor D. and his wife were always supportive and encouraging with my work at the church, as well as with Wally and his ministry, and even when he changed jobs. They were the first to praise and uplift us, see our hearts and cheer us on. I never felt intimidated or discouraged by them ever.
There was a point when the higher ups in the greater church government were changing rules that would in the end potentially cause me to lose my job. Pastor D. came to meet me all ready with a plan of attack so that I would be able to stay on as staff. He was going to defend me.
It was then I shared that it was time for me to leave me post as I felt lead to do other things with my life. Even then he and Bee graciously let me go.
Needless to say when I received a text saying Bee was gone without a trace I was upset, in shock and even nauseous. How could this happen? Where did she go? Did someone take her? Did she leave on her own? Why? How were the girls? How was Pastor D.?
I phoned Wally briefly but he had no more info than what was already shared. Though I wasn't involved in the situation I wondered how I was going to function through the rest of my 13 hr day (clearly I'm self centered - hopefully someday I'll grow out of this). I thought about just going home but realized that would do no good and truly I had no right. Worrying over a somewhat past friend was hardly grounds for 'time off'. Bee isn't directly a part of my life now nor is her family, other than the exchange of Christmas cards and letters paired with a hug at the church doors.
None the less my mind couldn't be tamed, nor my flip flopping stomach. I couldn't remember the last time I'd worried so much.
As the day progressed I shared my feelings with a couple of co workers to ease the boggling of my mind. I couldn't believe this was happening.
I went to bed Wednesday evening wondering if Bee would be found by morning. If she would come home or perhaps some trace of her would be discovered. I tossed and turned through the night with little sleep. If I, a distant friend, was this frazzled how were Pastor D. and his girls and family doing?
By tomorrow morning 4 days will have passed and the news stories about the disappearance are now running over and over with the same information. Bee called in sick to work without her family's knowledge and then was seen leaving around 8 am Tuesday morning. There has been no trace of her since. No credit or debit card activity, and no cell phone use. She's gone.
I won't express the speculations. Some, though always possible, are too offensive to me at this time and to be truthful are only guesses. Bee has struggled with depression this past year and has been treated medically for it. She was a nurse doing social work, who apparently was challenged by her ever stressful job. As many of us are.
My greatest hope is that she went somewhere to release, to de-stress, to renew, and she has every plan to return when she's ready.
My hope is that a job meant to give didn't take.
My hope is for a fairy tale ending.
It is with an unsettled and heavy heart I hope.
Please continue to pray for this situation and for the families left in the balance waiting.
I asked Wally what it must feel like to be in Pastor D.'s place right now, or even to be one of his daughters. His response: 'It must be maddening'. A perfect description I am sure.
Please hope with me. Hope doesn't expire, even when we do.
Wednesday morning I was at work doing a yearly training course. When it was over I checked my cell phone for any texts from Wally. Sure enough there was one waiting. But this time it was not the usual 'Miss you hope you're having a good day'. Nope. Instead it was one that made my stomach turn and my heart sink.
It said: 'I read in the paper today that Bee D. is missing'.
It took me a moment or two to put into context the name, but once I did I could barely believe it.
For 7 years I was a youth worker at a church. I did this over the span of eight years.
Pastor D. started working at the church 6 months after I did. We got to know each other quickly as he was quiet but forthright with what he believed. I was openly relieved that he was the 'real deal' in his faith walk and that I would get the privilege to work beside someone who would understand my heart and support my efforts. He was a good man.
Along with Pastor D. came Bee his wife and their two daughters, one who was 14 and the other was I believe just turning 6 years of age.
They were the perfect family. Bee was ever so obliging and never went without a smile and positive word (really, I NEVER saw her grumpy or negative ever).
I got to know them well as we shared a meal together early on and then went on to lead their girls in the mid week activities as well as on Sunday mornings for the 7 years I was at the church. I got to see them grow, mature and even see the oldest get married (well I wasn't at the wedding but you get the idea).
Pastor D. and his wife were always supportive and encouraging with my work at the church, as well as with Wally and his ministry, and even when he changed jobs. They were the first to praise and uplift us, see our hearts and cheer us on. I never felt intimidated or discouraged by them ever.
There was a point when the higher ups in the greater church government were changing rules that would in the end potentially cause me to lose my job. Pastor D. came to meet me all ready with a plan of attack so that I would be able to stay on as staff. He was going to defend me.
It was then I shared that it was time for me to leave me post as I felt lead to do other things with my life. Even then he and Bee graciously let me go.
Needless to say when I received a text saying Bee was gone without a trace I was upset, in shock and even nauseous. How could this happen? Where did she go? Did someone take her? Did she leave on her own? Why? How were the girls? How was Pastor D.?
I phoned Wally briefly but he had no more info than what was already shared. Though I wasn't involved in the situation I wondered how I was going to function through the rest of my 13 hr day (clearly I'm self centered - hopefully someday I'll grow out of this). I thought about just going home but realized that would do no good and truly I had no right. Worrying over a somewhat past friend was hardly grounds for 'time off'. Bee isn't directly a part of my life now nor is her family, other than the exchange of Christmas cards and letters paired with a hug at the church doors.
None the less my mind couldn't be tamed, nor my flip flopping stomach. I couldn't remember the last time I'd worried so much.
As the day progressed I shared my feelings with a couple of co workers to ease the boggling of my mind. I couldn't believe this was happening.
I went to bed Wednesday evening wondering if Bee would be found by morning. If she would come home or perhaps some trace of her would be discovered. I tossed and turned through the night with little sleep. If I, a distant friend, was this frazzled how were Pastor D. and his girls and family doing?
By tomorrow morning 4 days will have passed and the news stories about the disappearance are now running over and over with the same information. Bee called in sick to work without her family's knowledge and then was seen leaving around 8 am Tuesday morning. There has been no trace of her since. No credit or debit card activity, and no cell phone use. She's gone.
I won't express the speculations. Some, though always possible, are too offensive to me at this time and to be truthful are only guesses. Bee has struggled with depression this past year and has been treated medically for it. She was a nurse doing social work, who apparently was challenged by her ever stressful job. As many of us are.
My greatest hope is that she went somewhere to release, to de-stress, to renew, and she has every plan to return when she's ready.
My hope is that a job meant to give didn't take.
My hope is for a fairy tale ending.
It is with an unsettled and heavy heart I hope.
Please continue to pray for this situation and for the families left in the balance waiting.
I asked Wally what it must feel like to be in Pastor D.'s place right now, or even to be one of his daughters. His response: 'It must be maddening'. A perfect description I am sure.
Please hope with me. Hope doesn't expire, even when we do.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Please Pray
I have no time to blog right now and explain but I am asking you to pray for a friend Bee. She's gone missing and has been for 2 days.
There are speculations that I won't expand on right now but the bottom line is her family (and people like myself) are worried sick. Please pray she will return home safely soon, and for her husband and two daughters.
My heart is so saddened by this situation.
More to follow tomorrow...
There are speculations that I won't expand on right now but the bottom line is her family (and people like myself) are worried sick. Please pray she will return home safely soon, and for her husband and two daughters.
My heart is so saddened by this situation.
More to follow tomorrow...
Sunday, January 9, 2011
List Lover
I love lists. Like I would marry them if I could.
Lists make me feel organized, comforted, in control and prepared.
Although at the same time they have the power to make me feel disorganized, uncomfortable, out of control and unprepared. You know, if the list remains a list all it's life.
I've noticed lately that my obsession with lists has grown. I've noticed more and more of them popping up places. In my planner, on the fridge, on my night table, in the living room. In fact a week or two ago I proposed to Wally that we make a list of lists we have to write. He looked at me like I'd actually gone insane and realized, when I returned a very 'Of course I'm serious, do you think I would joke about this' look back at him.
I'm sure if a shrink were reading right now they would be able to easily tell me whatever my deep seeded emotional issue is that seems to increasing the list phenomenon in my world.
My best guess is feeling a wee bit overwhelmed. Perhaps in a good way at all of the possibilities there are out in the world for me to explore. Maybe also the fact that I have no idea where to start is also a little problem for me.
I was reading an article the other day that was about weight loss and how 98% of people that go at trying to lose weight on their own fail because they try and do 'all or nothing'. I've written about this before and admitted that I am most successful at anything when I just accept that perfection does not occur over night but rather within a process. I wonder where exactly my lists are in 'the process'.
One thing I'm struggling with today is the fact that I signed up for this little competition at work. I normally would never do this because I'm not the least bit competitive. Not to mention it's a weight loss competition, something I don't really and truly believe in.
However, I found out it is something that can be done in partners this time (sort of) and the idea of being accountable to someone who is depending on me to do my best really appealed to me. I feel as though lately I've fallen back into an unhealthy mindset which has lead to a struggle with mind on things relating to my body. It has been very frustrating.
I realized this evening, after spending the weekend pretending I'm the Caterpillar from the Hungry Caterpillar book eating my way through every unhealthy thing there is in sight, (because that's what I'm supposed to do before a diet - oh I HATE that word - it's like blasphemy!!) that I actually feel as though my morals around how I eat have changed, yet I don't exactly know how to deal with this.
I've never been blatantly morally corrupt. You know, I haven't murdered anyone but I definitely have enjoyed my share of a few good gossip sessions (wrongfully so). Now I'm starting to feel like the hypocrite healthy eater.
OH MY GOODNESS!!!! I'm a Baptist Clean Eater!!! (JUST kidding Baptist people. JUST kidding).
I guess what's frustrating is that I believe passionately what I should do but I decide when it's right for me to do it. If the rules seem applicable I abide, if they seem blurred I decide to do what best fits me. It's really very wrong.
I am comforted by the fact that I do believe in this passionately but frustrated by my lack of decision to follow what I know to be right all of the time. Hmmmmm ... this is helping me figure some things out.
I've come a long, long way in my little emotional eating, lazy ass journey. But I have a long, long way to go.
Now I know why I like lists. They simplify things. They order things to be done at a certain time. They make things happen.
'Continue to grow on the journey' sounds kinda vague for a list.
Poo.
My list love is diminishing because it doesn't seem to be a realistic way to look at life.
My new 'To Do' List:
#1 - Relax
#2 - Notice and enjoy the small things
#3 - Do what I know I should do NOW
#4 - Stop making so many damn lists, it's stressing me out!
Lists make me feel organized, comforted, in control and prepared.
Although at the same time they have the power to make me feel disorganized, uncomfortable, out of control and unprepared. You know, if the list remains a list all it's life.
I've noticed lately that my obsession with lists has grown. I've noticed more and more of them popping up places. In my planner, on the fridge, on my night table, in the living room. In fact a week or two ago I proposed to Wally that we make a list of lists we have to write. He looked at me like I'd actually gone insane and realized, when I returned a very 'Of course I'm serious, do you think I would joke about this' look back at him.
I'm sure if a shrink were reading right now they would be able to easily tell me whatever my deep seeded emotional issue is that seems to increasing the list phenomenon in my world.
My best guess is feeling a wee bit overwhelmed. Perhaps in a good way at all of the possibilities there are out in the world for me to explore. Maybe also the fact that I have no idea where to start is also a little problem for me.
I was reading an article the other day that was about weight loss and how 98% of people that go at trying to lose weight on their own fail because they try and do 'all or nothing'. I've written about this before and admitted that I am most successful at anything when I just accept that perfection does not occur over night but rather within a process. I wonder where exactly my lists are in 'the process'.
One thing I'm struggling with today is the fact that I signed up for this little competition at work. I normally would never do this because I'm not the least bit competitive. Not to mention it's a weight loss competition, something I don't really and truly believe in.
However, I found out it is something that can be done in partners this time (sort of) and the idea of being accountable to someone who is depending on me to do my best really appealed to me. I feel as though lately I've fallen back into an unhealthy mindset which has lead to a struggle with mind on things relating to my body. It has been very frustrating.
I realized this evening, after spending the weekend pretending I'm the Caterpillar from the Hungry Caterpillar book eating my way through every unhealthy thing there is in sight, (because that's what I'm supposed to do before a diet - oh I HATE that word - it's like blasphemy!!) that I actually feel as though my morals around how I eat have changed, yet I don't exactly know how to deal with this.
I've never been blatantly morally corrupt. You know, I haven't murdered anyone but I definitely have enjoyed my share of a few good gossip sessions (wrongfully so). Now I'm starting to feel like the hypocrite healthy eater.
OH MY GOODNESS!!!! I'm a Baptist Clean Eater!!! (JUST kidding Baptist people. JUST kidding).
I guess what's frustrating is that I believe passionately what I should do but I decide when it's right for me to do it. If the rules seem applicable I abide, if they seem blurred I decide to do what best fits me. It's really very wrong.
I am comforted by the fact that I do believe in this passionately but frustrated by my lack of decision to follow what I know to be right all of the time. Hmmmmm ... this is helping me figure some things out.
I've come a long, long way in my little emotional eating, lazy ass journey. But I have a long, long way to go.
Now I know why I like lists. They simplify things. They order things to be done at a certain time. They make things happen.
'Continue to grow on the journey' sounds kinda vague for a list.
Poo.
My list love is diminishing because it doesn't seem to be a realistic way to look at life.
My new 'To Do' List:
#1 - Relax
#2 - Notice and enjoy the small things
#3 - Do what I know I should do NOW
#4 - Stop making so many damn lists, it's stressing me out!
Friday, January 7, 2011
Cluttered closets and greasy hair
Warning: The following post is entirely a selfish effort to destress, unload and just feel better on my part. Very little of it will enlighten, build up or make your life brighter. (Not that it generally does but I thought I'd give you fair warning).
*Sigh*
Today is my Saturday. I am off to do errands, catch up and maybe, if I'm lucky, relax. Even as I write this I realize real women with children, who never get a break, will roll their eyes at the very notion of me needing a break, let alone getting one, but I will continue to write with ignorance.
I've been longing for a day to do nothing. Nothing but read, laze about, and organize my mind.
My mind needs organizing.
It gets like that storage closet (or room) that often has stuff just thrown into it, over and over, cluttered and possibly abandoned for days, weeks, and months at a time. It becomes a haven for junk, then appears useless and unnecessary. Well this definitely describes the mind I've been carrying around lately.
I feel like I just need time to think.
I love thinking.
Not in my father's way of 'thinking'. Which, incidentally, involves a porcelain thrown of sorts and perhaps a gas mask.
No I like time to just let my mind wonder, dream, sort, throw out, clean up and organize what's filling it up.
I was really hoping today might be the day.
I was wrong.
Instead I spent the beginning of my morning at Walmart spending without a budget, then to the Bulk Barn to add to my guilt, home to throw what needed to be refrigerated away then on to pick a fight.
It is a valid fight.
After my car got written off in the accident I learned that I'd get most of the warranty I purchased back. So I made a few phone calls and thought I had it dealt with. After waiting too long I looked into it again. Someone made a mistake and we had to start over. Correction: I had to start over. Several more phone calls and I awaited my check ... again.
I still hadnt' received anything so I made more phone calls. To the bank, the warranty company, the car dealership.
Today I got to do the run around again. Once again I almost cried on the phone. Once again I almost threatened to come in and show people who's boss. (I won't tell you what I wanted to say to them and really restrained myself from spouting out). In case you ever wondered, 'they' don't care who thinks they're the boss, especially when 'they' still have your $1500 in their bank account.
Any hoo I'm still waiting for someone to call me back AGAIN and have numerous times reminded myself how insignificant this money is in the general scheme of the world. It's not like I'm planning to buy some life changing medication for someone or anything. Nope. I just want a new couch and love seat. Pretty superficial stuff but blood boiling to me. Luckily perspective smacks me in the face at the right times or I'd be known as the 'crazy car lady who keeps leaving rude messages'. (Ok so I'm lying, they do consider me the 'crazy car lady who keeps leaving rude messages' but they could be ruder).
I did go and get me hair cut and coloured. That sort of makes me feel better. Well sort of. I have boy hair now and it looks a bit greasy because of goo, but on the up side there are no grays. I am still inwardly dealing with the fact that I have chosen to start drowning the little buggers at a less than admirable price tag (and I even go to a reasonable hair dresser). Oh well, I did get ID'd at the liquor store a week ago so I guess it's worth it. (You can see I am prioritizing humankind's needs perfectly right now eh? No one said I was Jesus).
I went to the grocery store on my way home from the hair dresser's, (that by the way is 40 mins on the highway away - yeah she's that good) to pick up fresh stuff so I wouldn't have to deal with the bustle of the city. I loved it. I even discovered that this grocery store sold personal sized shrimp portions for cheap. It excited me even though I didn't buy any.
Oh and by the way, Walmart, Bulk Barn and the grocery store held things for me that are all bad and I engaged. That's all about that.
After watching a couple of home reno shows I'm freezing and blogging in my favourite room, listening to the house make noises that sound like the ones on 'Law and Order'. You know between scenes: boom, boom, boom. Or maybe it's: ting, ting, ting. I don't know. I can't convey the right tone in text. But it freaks me out a bit.
I really need to skedaddle (cool! that's an actual word!!) though because we're off to a birthday party tonight with my greasy looking boy hair which I don't seem to mind.
I need to take another look at my resolutions. Less like they are resolutions and more like just changes I want to make, slowly over time. (Though I won't lie, immediate would be great too).
I need to carve out relax time. Think time. Cool down time. Or in this season in Canada warm up time.
I need to slow down a little each day. I know I have a friend who would tell me to stop each day and maybe pray and let God talk to me or just be with me. I don't always feel spiritual enough to be his friend, but I know he doesn't judge me. At least I don't think so.
I'm rethinking some long term atmospheric change for my life. Aren't I always?
Oh well. I guess I'm a rollin' stone.
That's ok though. I think.
P.S. Wally and I made a decision. About .... you know. AND we have peace ... I think. We're excited. Thanks for the thoughts :)
*Sigh*
Today is my Saturday. I am off to do errands, catch up and maybe, if I'm lucky, relax. Even as I write this I realize real women with children, who never get a break, will roll their eyes at the very notion of me needing a break, let alone getting one, but I will continue to write with ignorance.
I've been longing for a day to do nothing. Nothing but read, laze about, and organize my mind.
My mind needs organizing.
It gets like that storage closet (or room) that often has stuff just thrown into it, over and over, cluttered and possibly abandoned for days, weeks, and months at a time. It becomes a haven for junk, then appears useless and unnecessary. Well this definitely describes the mind I've been carrying around lately.
I feel like I just need time to think.
I love thinking.
Not in my father's way of 'thinking'. Which, incidentally, involves a porcelain thrown of sorts and perhaps a gas mask.
No I like time to just let my mind wonder, dream, sort, throw out, clean up and organize what's filling it up.
I was really hoping today might be the day.
I was wrong.
Instead I spent the beginning of my morning at Walmart spending without a budget, then to the Bulk Barn to add to my guilt, home to throw what needed to be refrigerated away then on to pick a fight.
It is a valid fight.
After my car got written off in the accident I learned that I'd get most of the warranty I purchased back. So I made a few phone calls and thought I had it dealt with. After waiting too long I looked into it again. Someone made a mistake and we had to start over. Correction: I had to start over. Several more phone calls and I awaited my check ... again.
I still hadnt' received anything so I made more phone calls. To the bank, the warranty company, the car dealership.
Today I got to do the run around again. Once again I almost cried on the phone. Once again I almost threatened to come in and show people who's boss. (I won't tell you what I wanted to say to them and really restrained myself from spouting out). In case you ever wondered, 'they' don't care who thinks they're the boss, especially when 'they' still have your $1500 in their bank account.
Any hoo I'm still waiting for someone to call me back AGAIN and have numerous times reminded myself how insignificant this money is in the general scheme of the world. It's not like I'm planning to buy some life changing medication for someone or anything. Nope. I just want a new couch and love seat. Pretty superficial stuff but blood boiling to me. Luckily perspective smacks me in the face at the right times or I'd be known as the 'crazy car lady who keeps leaving rude messages'. (Ok so I'm lying, they do consider me the 'crazy car lady who keeps leaving rude messages' but they could be ruder).
I did go and get me hair cut and coloured. That sort of makes me feel better. Well sort of. I have boy hair now and it looks a bit greasy because of goo, but on the up side there are no grays. I am still inwardly dealing with the fact that I have chosen to start drowning the little buggers at a less than admirable price tag (and I even go to a reasonable hair dresser). Oh well, I did get ID'd at the liquor store a week ago so I guess it's worth it. (You can see I am prioritizing humankind's needs perfectly right now eh? No one said I was Jesus).
I went to the grocery store on my way home from the hair dresser's, (that by the way is 40 mins on the highway away - yeah she's that good) to pick up fresh stuff so I wouldn't have to deal with the bustle of the city. I loved it. I even discovered that this grocery store sold personal sized shrimp portions for cheap. It excited me even though I didn't buy any.
Oh and by the way, Walmart, Bulk Barn and the grocery store held things for me that are all bad and I engaged. That's all about that.
After watching a couple of home reno shows I'm freezing and blogging in my favourite room, listening to the house make noises that sound like the ones on 'Law and Order'. You know between scenes: boom, boom, boom. Or maybe it's: ting, ting, ting. I don't know. I can't convey the right tone in text. But it freaks me out a bit.
I really need to skedaddle (cool! that's an actual word!!) though because we're off to a birthday party tonight with my greasy looking boy hair which I don't seem to mind.
I need to take another look at my resolutions. Less like they are resolutions and more like just changes I want to make, slowly over time. (Though I won't lie, immediate would be great too).
I need to carve out relax time. Think time. Cool down time. Or in this season in Canada warm up time.
I need to slow down a little each day. I know I have a friend who would tell me to stop each day and maybe pray and let God talk to me or just be with me. I don't always feel spiritual enough to be his friend, but I know he doesn't judge me. At least I don't think so.
I'm rethinking some long term atmospheric change for my life. Aren't I always?
Oh well. I guess I'm a rollin' stone.
That's ok though. I think.
P.S. Wally and I made a decision. About .... you know. AND we have peace ... I think. We're excited. Thanks for the thoughts :)
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