Surrendering My Expectations

 

            

    Autumn stretches her long arms and nature surrenders to her embrace by slowing folding under and going to sleep. And by putting the garden to bed I know my energy has shifted toward reflection. We said goodbye to the summer with Thanksgiving, which was very different from last year's huge celebration. And I fondly glance back on Oct 2019 and think of my great expectations for Thanksgiving 2020. Before Scott and I drove away from my parents place at the lake last year we made plans for the whole family to be together on Thanksgiving 2020. But alas, we know that the pandemic that swept the whole world off it's axis prevented not only us missing family dinner but also for many others. It was another blow to the social calendar, another reminder that we can't make plans too far in the future. 

Like many others, I've been thinking often about my expectations for 2020 and how this lack luster of a year has been anything close to my expectations.  In March, coming out of what felt like a social hibernation from grieving my dear friend Lisa for most of the winter, I had huge expectations for the spring and summer. I was ready to rekindle friendships and spend oodles of time with my family at the lake. I was gaining my footing and making big plans to explore Vancouver with my husband and host dinner parties. And then overnight the world we knew literally stopped. Everyone in the world was trapped, isolated in their houses, scared of the unknown. How long would Covid last? Were we going to travel this summer? Could we actually get back to normal before the fall? 

Each month our hopes were dashed and our expectations rejigged once again. I became more and more frustrated and angry because I couldn't control anything, besides the level of cleanliness in my house. It seemed every time I planned something it didn't happen. And I found myself so entrenched in grieving the way things used to be it was all I thought about. There were traditions not played out and it felt like I was suffocating under the weight of anxiety that grew from that. 

Then out of no where something shifted. My mindset. I started a morning routine, inspired by my now fitness coach Anne Jones. And with every morning meditation, every morning affirmation, every piece of gratitude I started to surrender my expectations. I let go of how things were supposed to be and focused only on the day ahead. I stopped grasping for experiences from the past that I couldn't re-create and I stopped making plans for the future. I focused on the small things of the day and was grateful. I was getting good at that. 

And then I stopped having expectations for people to have the same comfort level as myself when it came to Covid protocols. My husband and I are very cautious and leery when it comes to social activities and public spaces; our bubble is tiny and I'm okay with that. Some people spent the summer gallivanting across the country and that was their decision because of their comfort level. And at the time it really bothered me, but now I let that go. I can't force my expectations on someone else much like they can't on me. And I started to learn to control my reactions to things since I couldn't control everything or everyone. 

But with summer gone and back to work, which is a whole new level of emotions, I'm finding myself once again struggling with the need to control everything and it's exhausting. I'm placing unrealistic expectations on myself to be the perfect teacher, wife, friend, colleague and family member. I'm having to relearn the lesson to surrender my control and expectations. And know that it is okay to be not okay. And that I am enough and I am worthy. And that I can only focus on today and give up the expectations from the past and future. 

Who knows where we will be by the end of 2020 but at least I have today and that makes me happy. 

Thinking of You

     

It was an average Saturday afternoon in October- rainy and lazy.  I look back on that day and smile, as it was the last time Lisa and I spent alone; just us gals hanging out.  All we did was lounge on her couches, wrapped in blankets, watching Property Brothers.  In the moment I didn’t know this would be the last time I'd see her outside of the hospital. And if I’d known maybe I would have said more or we could have watched something a little more memorable, but I didn’t know.  We both didn’t.

    I look back on that day and I smile as it was just how things always were with us-easy and comfortable.  Lisa was one of my friends that I could just sit and be with, no extra chatter to fill space.  We were at ease with the silence.  On camping mornings and later afternoon deck time, if it was just us, there was always moments where we didn’t need to talk.  On our camping trips Lisa and I could sit for hours quietly reading and I loved those days. 

    In 2019 I watched my friend slowly and yet so quickly pass away.  Things were good until the Spring and by Fall we all knew there wouldn’t be much time left.  We hoped there would have been, but secretly we knew she’d be gone too soon.  Somehow, we thought we’d see another Christmas and New Years with her, but we didn’t. 

    I think about her last month and the final days often because they were not how she wanted to spend them. No one would- too tired to eat and sleep, too tired to do anything really.  And then the last few weeks in the hospital.

 It’s funny how everyone says, “oh, if I knew I didn’t have lots of time left I’d…” and then we all go into elaborate plans of the last things we’d do.  As though we’d have the strengthen and energy to tick off items on our bucket list.  One last hurrah. Though when you realize there isn’t much time left it usually means you don’t have the health or the means to live the life you wanted in the end.  I know that Lisa didn’t.  There were lots of things she wanted to do with her husband before she passed that she couldn’t do. And maybe that’s the thing.  The lesson we are supposed to take away from her death.  Is that we need to life live to the fullest and live like it is our last.  These cliched adages are true. 

    I don’t have a word this year like I normally do, and I certainly don’t have resolutions, but I do know that 2020 is one of transition.  2019 brought big changes to my life- new job and loss of a dear friend.  Now I need to figure out where I fit in this new reality and how to create a life with purpose. One where I don’t shy away from the unknown or the new as I tend to do that. Trying new things, saying yes and doing things now and not later is what I want to have courage to do. 

     I end this blog post with a poem I wrote for Lisa after she passed away.  I think of her everyday and I miss her all the time. She was someone I saw almost daily and now I can only see her in the world around me.

Soliloquy of an Angel

In the soft winter morning sky

I caught a glimpse of your voice

Lilac, light and warm.

You were there

In the rays of sun stretching

Through bare tree limbs

I felt a whisper of your scent

Peonies and ocean-sweet and fresh

In the echo of the winter breeze

I held your smile

You were there.

You are scattered everywhere

In the softness of a feather floating to the ground.

In the first green bud of a starved winter.

In the twinkle of garden lights.

You are everywhere.

You left us shattered after your last breath

And now we pick up the pieces, scattered everywhere we go

Hoping to mend and feel whole once again.

You were there and you are everywhere.

 ­-- Margo Freeman

Enjoying the Journey

About a year ago I embarked on a weight loss journey.  My goal was to lose at least 30 pounds by the end of 2018, and with a day left in the calendar year I still have four more pounds to go.  So, technically I didn't reach my goal, but 26 pounds and 18 inches is nothing to scoff at.  I feel proud to have come this far in my fitness goal for the year.

And it surely wasn't a walk in the park - mind you I did a lot of walking and eventually walking turned to running.

The biggest question I got from my friends was "how did you do it? What's your secret?' No secret.  I just put my mind to it.  If anything, the fact that it was my main focus for twelve consecutive months was the secret.  I didn't go on a fad diet or cut out carbs or booze or sugar.  I learned how to portion control my food instead, exercised four days a week and enjoyed the journey.

That was the tough part; learning to enjoy the journey.  The beginning was challenging because the results weren't as quick as I hoped for.  I think it took up to six weeks to start seeing any change, but sure enough the numbers on the scale started to decrease.  And if it wasn't for my sister as my workout and dieting buddy I wouldn't have stuck with it those first six weeks.  We'd talk on the phone weekly about our progress, trouble shoot our obstacles and give one another encouragement.  And that was important to have another person keeping me accountable and lean on for support.  It also helped that my husband was very supportive and never complained about having to eat lighter meals on an occasion. And through my sister I found an online fitness group and learned exercises that upped my cardio and strength training.  So I guess having support is key in terms of sticking with it.

But learning to be positive and enjoying the ride was tricky.  With any new routine it is fun and exciting at first but soon enough the shine wears off and finding new ways to incorporate veggies into the diet or finding a new route to walk became hard. And when the weight stopping coming off (as it does when you hit a plateau) it's easy to give up.  I found the more fixated I was with counting calories and counting steps the more stressed out I was about the whole thing, especially when I noticed I gained a few pounds instead of losing them. When summer rolled in it was really hard not to freak out about gaining a few pounds back after a week away camping.  I had to come to terms with the idea that the more I stressed out the less I'd lose.  I needed to go with the flow and just keep trying, but not obsessing over every calorie. And sure enough the pounds started to trickle away again.  I was happier when I wasn't counting everything.  With the shift in focus I started to notice the slight changes in my body- I had leaner cheeks, muscle tone in my legs and arms and definition in my stomach.   Finally I was enjoying the journey.  Even with my exercise I noticed a huge change from walking for 30 mins to running further in the same time -frame.  It was remarkable.

I'm still on the journey and I don't think there will be a definite destination.  The changes I have made are lifelong, it's not a diet but a healthier lifestyle.  I'm loving the new me and I'm hoping 2019 will be just as fruitful for health as 2018 was. And I learned that it's never too late to change your life to make it healthier. 

Summer 2017

Fall 2018

Old Traditions Die Hard: 2017

       I'm finding it tricky to reflect on 2017.  When I think back on the past year there are only three big moments that stick out in my mind- Mexico trip, turning 40 and my parents moving away.  The trip and my birthday were very joyous and momentous occasions, both of which I wrote about in previous blog posts.  They were definite highlights of the year.  My parents moving away on the other hand was and still is a hard thing for me.  They moved away in June and the initial shock and sadness has worn off.  And though I miss them terribly I'm happy they are living their retirement the way they want to, in a place they dreamt of living in.  What still lingers are the deaths of old traditions; things I took for granted that will never occur again unless we live in the same town again.

      Meeting up for coffee is one thing I miss a lot.  My mom and I used to do that on a regular basis, which was an easy and quick way to catch up.  We'd meet in the same parking lot in Fort Langley and walk down the main street to the same coffee shop- The Blacksmith Bakery, and order pretty much the same  thing- coffee and bacon croissants.  Except one time I ordered a gluten free scone and I never heard the end of it, because my mom hates things that are gluten free.  But we ate it anyways.  Or the time my mom inadvertently ordered a chocolate brownie but saying Um a brownie would be nice.  The cashier thought my mom ordered one so in the end we had a brownie  and two croissants that day.  Since she left, I haven't been back. 

      I also miss Sunday night dinners with them.  My mom would cook something amazing and my dad would have this great new wine to try.  We'd eat too much and talk about everything and everyone.  My dad and my husband would catch up on sports or something like that.  It was fun and comforting.  Now in order to have coffee or a meal together we have to go visit them at their place or they have to come visit here for a few days.  And don't get me wrong that is lots of fun too but it's not the same as it used to be. 

      A tradition I'm missing today is such a silly one, but it was one I counted on each January 1st- ordering in Chinese food togerther, no matter how hung over we may be.  This is the first year they are not here for it.  I know I can order food in with just my husband, but it isn't the same.  There was something special the way my mom would always say this is the only time of year I eat this food and we'd laugh.  My dad and my husband would always go pick it up and I'd help my mom arrange the kitchen counter with serving spoons and forks.  Then when they'd bring in the bags of food we'd all say wow, looks like a lot of food maybe we shouldn't have ordered so much. And then we'd laugh again, because no matter what you have to order all the good dishes, like ginger beef, deep fried won tons, fried shrimp and rice and chow mein, and all sorts of other dishes that taste so incredible you have to order them, hence the ridiculous amount of food. 

       I know I'm bemoaning like they are gone for good, but I miss them and the little things.  I know in time this will pass and I'll have embraced the new traditions of visiting them for a few days at a time, but this is a good way to end 2017- letting old habits and emotions wash away as the new year comes in.  So here is to a new year with all sorts of new habits, traditions and possibilities while I let the old ones die off. 
 

What Does Your Gut Tell You

What Does Your Gut Tell You? That gut instinct, the feeling deep inside that whispers when a situation is not right.  Sometimes it is hard to hear that voice over what others tell you to do, or when you simply don't want to hear the truth.  But the reality is, the longer you ignore it, the louder it will become, until you have no choice but take your gut's advice. 

My gut was the one to tell me I didn't want children; that was a difficult pill to swallow living around friends and family who had children and I expected myself to just have them.  But my gut spoke up enough times for me to know in my heart child-rearing was not my path in life.  And after firmly making that decision I have never once felt I missed out on something that having a child could bring. 

More recently, I've certainly hated my guts for screaming at me to take care of my physical self.  When I hurt my SI joint over a month ago I figured it would be a quick fix- little rest, hot tub time, and a few visits with my chiropractor and massage therapist, and I'd be back on my yoga mat where I belonged.  That hasn't been the case and as a result I became beyond frustrated and angry that my body wouldn't perform how I wanted it to.  So instead of taking the advice from the specialists I pushed myself back before I was ready and low and behold I re- injured myself.  Six weeks later I'm still dealing with the pain but the difference is I realized I had to take a hiatus from yoga until I'm completely better.  I remember sitting in yoga class in tears because all I could do was sit and watch, the pain was too much to try any pose.  My gut had finally gotten through to me and with much chagrin I put my membership on hold for the first time in three years. But instead of feeling angry I feel a sense of relief.  By truly listening to my gut I have gained a sense of relief knowing this is where I'm supposed to be right now.  My instinct now is to retreat and not fight. And I'm getting better, bit by bit.  Soon I'll rejoin my community of yogis. 

Now comes to something that I've been struggling with and every Billings and so forth.  So you ask what's the big deal? Do it!  It will help your chances of getting published!  That's the goal, isn't it, who cares how.   This is true, so I did just that, I changed the names of cities and towns and some details that were very Canadian to help disguise my book as American.  You know what happened?  It didn't read authentic or true.  It felt fake. And I hate it.
time I ask my gut, it tells me to stick to my guns no matter what others say.  For a long time, years actually, I have struggled with this decision, and it invades my thoughts often when I write- Do I change the locations of my manuscript from Canadian to American?  Those who not only know me but have also been kind enough to read Marbles and Wine know how Canadian I am and the story itself.  So the answer seems natural to keep it in Canada, why not?  Well here is the rub.  In the publishing world it is really difficult to get a book published in Canada, most books are published in the U.S as they have the most well known publishing houses.  And the majority of the Women's Lit population reside in America, which means it is easier to market a book set in America.  And everyone I have spoke to in the publishing world agrees that I should change Vancouver to Seattle and Calgary to

So now I'm back where I started, do I keep it American or go back to Canadian?  Well with time to think off my yoga mat, swimming laps in a pool, where I can let my mind wander for an hour, I listened to my gut.  It has been telling me the same thing for years about this quandary.  Keep it Canadian.  It doesn't matter if a major publishing house takes it; it might better suited at a local publisher in Vancouver and my West Coast audience will appreciate the local flare and shout- outs to familiar locations.  With that decided I guess I'll have to edit once again. 

I'm 40'and I Couldn't Be Happier

I'm 40 and I couldn't be happier. Most cringe at the idea but I for one embrace this new age.  I see it as a rite of passage, or an opportunity to embrace the person I have become and say goodbye to the people and things that don't serve me.

I spent my 20s having fun but also lost.  Many moments I'd never want to relive. My 30s were spent figuring out who I am and my 40s will be loving just that person.  For the past decade I've experienced significant life events that have shaped who I am.  The biggest being my divorce nine years ago.  I left what appeared to be a cookie cutter charmed life- new townhouse, fancy vacations, and a husband who loved me.  However under the surface was a myriad  of problems; long story short I asked for a separation followed quickly by a divorce.  It was a defining moment in my life.  The hardest decision I've ever made. And when I look back now it was the best decision. It taught me that I am damn strong and that I can be independent.  Before then I never lived in my own and when I left my ex I had to rent a basement suite and live alone.  That experience taught me how to be okay with just myself.  It gave me time to figure out what I wanted in life and to not settle for anything less.

When I met my current husband we spent the better past of our first six months together discussing the "big 5" topics all couples should iron out before they make a serious commitment- money, lifestyle, kids, future goals and sex.  Neither of us wanted to waste time tiptoeing around these subjects only to find out we were not on the same page and it was too late. Through this time I came to fully see the future I wanted and kids were not in that picture.  As it turned out Scott felt the same way in all the other aspects too.

Not having children was the next biggest decision in my life.  But choosing not to be a mother in a kidcentric society has not proved to be easy, especially when it comes to friendships.  Many of you who have followed my blog know that I have struggled to maintain friendships after kids are brought into the mix.  Some have shifted and lasted and some did not survive.  All the women in my life have children, expect for two.  And most have young children which makes it more challenging.  And because of this I found myself gravitating more to the women in my life who are passed the baby/toddler stage.  And though I miss seeing my other friends I'm not sad about it.

Now that I am 40 I don't regret not having kids.  This was a huge concern for a lot of people in my life but not me.  I don't miss it.  And another thing I have noticed about me is that I have become bolder.  Many people I work with say I exude more confidence and get out of my comfort zone more often.  I speak my mind more both at work and and in my personal life too.  This newly found attitude has led me to say when I don't care for something or don't want to do something and not be sorry about it.   And I have been able to cut out a lot of drama in my life too.

At my 40th birthday last month I took a moment and drank in the party that was happening around me.  I felt so blessed.  In the garden oasis that my husband, family and friends created with magical lighting, decorations and amazing food, were so many of my closest people having a good time.  And what struck me was that not only did they want to be there to celebrate so many of them wanted to pitch in and help.  I didn't have to do a thing.  I am so fortunate to have these people in my life that care for me as much as I do them.

Thanks all!

I'm so excited to see what 40 brings into my life.

Adult Only in Mexico's Hard Rock Heaven

Me and Elvis

On an early morning in March we flew out of sodden Vancouver and landed in sunny Rivera Mayan. It had been four years since our last beach holiday and this was our first adult only vacation,  Add the snowiest winter in decades in Fraser|Valley it was no wonder we beyond elated to be in Mexico.

Dark hues, crisp steel and rock memorabilia met us at every turn when we entered The Hard Rock Resort.  Like rock royalty, from the moment we entered the lush resort, we wanted for nothing.  With a cold margarita in our hands we walked into our luxurious ocean view suite to find a chilled bottle of champagne and desserts, congratulating us on our anniversary and my up coming birthday. Both were presents from our travel agent. That night, after a lovely meal we strolled the moonlit beaches and discovered a martini bar on the ocean,  I adventurously tried a rosemary and cumber drink that sent me to heaven.

The next morning I marveled at sun streaming through the window and thought yes I am living in heaven, which was exactly what this side of the resort was called. The Hard Rock has two sides, one for families and one for adults only.  And I had to admit I was thrilled to not have to listen or watch kids running around being disruptive during my vacation. So my goal was to spend as much time as possible on the Heaven side. This proved to be easy as everything we needed, including the spa was on our side.

We began our first full day with a couples massage. Where we were waited on during the entire time in the spa- from the change room, to the hydro therapy room to the actual massage. It was sublime. So during the 10 day stay we visited five more times.

Another perk we took advantage of were our personal assistants. At first we felt awkward having an assistant do things for us as we are very independent people, but after the first day it was amazing. Tony and Daniel booked all our spa appointments, dinner reservations, Bali beach beds, and made sure we were very comfortable in our room with extra creature comforts. And to top it off they surprised us by preparing a romantic bath for when we arrived back to our room one night.  On another occasion they filled the room with balloons for my birthday, which for me was magical.

Main beach with Bali beds

Most of our days were spent laying at the beach.  We quickly learned that reserving Bali beds, which are luxurious beach lounge chairs that are in a covered structure, were the best way to enjoy the hot days.  Having a place for shade or a comfortable bed to relax on after swimming or snorkeling made the days even heavenlier. And what put it over the top was the food and drink service.  Fresh lobster, prawns, and fruit appetizers with chilled wine took the experience to the next level.  On the days we didn't get a bed we hung by the pool or cooled down in one of the cool tubs, which appeared to be hot tubs but were filled with cold water.  My husband was a little more adventurous than I as he tried scuba diving and deep sea fishing, while I read and people watched.

Our private beach

Nights were centered around watching the live bands before drinks in the night club or a quieter time back at the martini bar.  One night we ventured into the actual club where the music and dancing took place, and it was the most bizarre set up I'd ever seen.  There was an actual pool in the middle of the dance floor.  We didn't go in but there were a few inebriated "boys" taking a dip in their dress clothes.

Scott Fishing 

Ten days in heaven was truly out of this world; a trip of a life time.  I hope one to be able to go back.