I’m sorry

I honestly didn’t realize how long it had been since I posted until I decided to maybe post something tonight. I opened it and saw my last post was over a year go… Just another reminder how quickly time goes by.

I’ve thought about my blog often, honestly still, almost every night. I formulate it, I mull it over, I “perfect it” all in my head and then… I go to sleep. Suddenly, it’s been a year since I was here last.

So, I’m sorry. I will try harder!

I lost a friend today..

I lost a friend today. I lost a friend and I don’t know how to grieve for him. You see, he wasn’t a close friend. He could’ve been but there wasn’t enough time. So a friendship started and then he got sick. Very sick. By his side stood his amazing wife who lived solely for him and his amazing children. He had close family who loved him and spent time caring for him. He had close friends who knew him for years that spent time with him while he was sick, helping and loving and praying. He was my new friend and I don’t feel like I deserve to be sad. I feel like the people closest to him should be sad. They have suffered the loss of a great man. They are missing out on things they are familiar with. They have memories and stories and history with this man and I have simply the start of a friendship. My grief has no place amongst the people who knew him best & will feel the loss of him the most. My blessed life hit a bump today. Tomorrow I will wake up still madly in love with my amazing husband. I will still have my beautiful, smart, caring children. I will have my extended family, my close friends and all the many reasons I have to constantly smile. And yet… I lost a friend today and I am sad.

I just texted my husband, “I love you”

I was killing time on Facebook yesterday when I came across a joke shared on a page I follow. I’m sure hundreds of jokes are shared hourly, I know I see a lot of them..but this one made my heart hurt. In paraphrasing but it went something like this:

A group of woman are in a seminar to help strengthen and lengthen their marriages. Leader asks when was the last time you told your husband you love him? There was a myriad of responses ranging from five minutes before leaving for the seminar to not remembering. They followed this up with having the ladies text their husbands those three simple words. I love you. They were instructed to read the responses to the group. Again, the responses were extremely varied and all over the scale. Some responses were heartwarming such as, “Awww I love you too! You ok?” Others were frightening, “Who was this meant for? I’m coming home and you are in big trouble!” Some hurt my heart, “What do you want? How much is it going to cost me?”

I’m actually not even sure what the point of the joke was but it got me to thinking about my husband. I tell him how much I love him ALL. THE. TIME!

Within minutes of waking, I tell him. Before we part ways for the day, I tell him.                                                        Every time I talk to him throughout the day, I tell him.                                                      Sometimes randomly for no reason I text him to tell him.                                      When he arrives home from work, I tell him.                                                             Before we fall asleep, with my last words of the day, I tell him.                      

Maybe it’s too much. This joke I came across has me thinking that maybe I’m doing it wrong. Perhaps I am the strange one, not those featured in the joke. Why? Why do I have this obsession with telling him I love him SO OFTEN? Is it because we are newlyweds…. No, our 19th anniversary is only a couple months away. Could it be because I feel threatened and fear losing him? No, pretty secure that we have an amazing life together. 

I’m starting to think it’s probably because

Within minutes of waking, he tells me. Before we part ways for the day, he tells me.                                                  Every time I talk to him throughout the day, he tells me.                            Sometimes randomly for no reason he texts me to tell me.                             When he arrives home from work, he tells me.                                               Before we fall asleep, with his last words of the day, he tells me.

Maybe we are strange. Maybe we are doing it all wrong. Maybe we say it too much. 

For me, I know I am loved and I make sure that he knows he is as well. For that reason alone, I wouldn’t have it any other way!

  

I’m tired of “poor me”

I know that as a good friend, it is your job to listen. It is your responsibility to be the confidante and the reassurer. You are there to be the shoulder to cry on and the plan maker to help them bounce back. I get that, it’s exactly what I look for in a friend.

But what about the friend that doesn’t bounce back? The one that never takes responsibility and always, always has an issue? The one that has had so many things happen that they only have issues and their substance is lost? You know that friend… As soon as you start to talk they “me too only worse” whatever you may need to talk about, right into oblivion. It gets to the point you know just not to open your mouth. What happens next with them?

What about the friend you can’t figure out exactly? Seems like they are totally together but is constantly needing to be the centre of attention. You’ve known them for years but you’ve never seen them undone? Always referring to their great life but are the most unhappy person you know? How do you continue a friendship like that? 

How about we all put our “poor me’s” away and move on. Every single person I know has had problems. Every single person I know has had ups and downs. Every single person I know carries some type of baggage. Some people’s issues pale in comparison to the next and some people’s issues I would gladly trade for my own. The fact remains…we all have scars of some kind. We are given what we can handle and some people can handle more.

If we spend our lives continually dissecting  what has gone wrong in our lives, how do we notice what is going right? I, like everyone, have had struggles. Worse than some but also much much easier than some. I am glad I had them, all of them. I truly believe that everything that happens makes us who we are. Strengthens us, teaches us, molds us and pushes us to be better versions of ourselves than we were before. Some wounds take longer to heal and leave larger scars but they make us who. we. are. Stop asking why these things happened and start being grateful for who they’ve made you. Enough “poor me”, take some time to heal but always remember, there is more life to live. 

Being Accountable Sucks

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Accountable. I’ve always looked at is as a good thing. I consider myself accountable to many things, my hubby, my kids, my family, my friends and even my employer. I’ve used it to describe myself on resumes and in conversations through life. I expect it in return from everyone around me.
Today as the sun brightly shone and the wet pools formed as the snow slowly melted under it’s beautiful rays, for one of the few times in my life, I wanted to strip off the constantly accountable me and run off. I wanted to jump in my jeep, with my family and drive to the mountains. Life be damned, I want my babies to see the top layers of crystal clear frozen waterfall melt and slowly start flowing again. I want them to see the flaming red of the sky behind the mountains as the sun slowly dips behind them. I want to show off the beauty of a million twinkling stars uninterrupted by the glow of a town.
Today I wanted to be free from work, from school and from hockey practice. I wanted to be free and I wanted everyone affected by my spontaneity to simply accept it. Maybe even throw in an encouraging word, “Good for you, go enjoy life.” Instead, the kids went to school and practice and I remained accountable me, at work, missing out on an opportunity to share a beautiful day.

What Happened?

Ok, when did I get old? Seriously?! When my kids were little my hubby was always impressed at my ability to get everything done no matter what time of night it took till. I would put the monsters to bed and do ridiculous things like paint a room or steam clean carpets in the time it took hubby to play a hockey game.
We used to travel all over the province for 3 day hockey tournaments with absurdly early game times. We would get up hours before the sun, spend the morning watching the kids play hockey, spend all afternoon doing family things and spend until the wee hours of the morning socializing with the other hockey parents, only to get up at some ungodly hour the next day and start again. Now I’m lucky to not be yawning through the games.