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Worst Case Scenario – Just Take a Nap

free spirit

Recently I had a back-stabbing event. You know, the kind most people finish with in seventh grade?

It got under my skin. At first it upset me, and then I remembered M. Scott Peck’s famous work, People of the Lie.

His work was my first exposure to understanding the age old question, “What the hell is wrong with you?!” The sad truth is that some people cannot accept joy or joyful people. They are suspicious of anyone who isn’t as miserable as them. Darkness always seeks to extinguish the light, and to that I say; shine brightly darlings, don’t pay any attention to the banshees scratching at your back. Carry on and blind them with your dazzling spirit.

I’m too old and lazy for retribution. Besides that, being bitchy is bad for my middle-aged complexion. I’m on the other side of the hill of time now, and I want to enjoy it.

Long ago I decided that when someone was cruel to me, I would not let them win. By win, I mean I would not fall into the trap of doing anything harmful to myself; binge drinking or eating, negative self talk, or not doing something I was looking forward to.

riverIt’s been a great philosophy for me. Often I accomplish a lot of wonderful things when I’m pissed off. Creativity gives me the opportunity to birth something fun and new. Creativity is truly a slap in the face to any demons that hunt us down when we’re vulnerable.

During my quiet time, I have made things, and written things, and tended to my garden. I reclaimed the magic in abandoned ideas. I lived fully and completely in-spite-of,  and sure enough, it has turned into joyful abandon.

Keep writing my darlings. Keep painting and drawing and stitching and singing and dancing and making the world a happy place.  And if you’re just too tired of the bullshit, take a good, long, nap.

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Raising the Veil: When You Meet Her Again

veiled womanI am nothing if not a sensual woman.

I love to taste, touch, smell and enjoy what life has to offer. I like to let the beauty of art, food, sex and the great outdoors seep deep into my bones like water finds the most tiny of cracks and flows inward. A beautiful soul is the reflection of this sensuality, and I want to be effing gorgeous well into my senior years.

But I need to remember that, and honour it.

It’s pretty much mid-August, and we are in the true dog-days of summer. It’s that time of year when you hear so many people saying, “Where did the summer go?”

This will be followed in the fall with the same question about the whole of 2018.  If you’re not careful, this will become the melody of your life-song. A recurring durge of regret.

At the beginning of this year, I made some resolutions for myself, and I’ve ticked off every single box. Since then, some other issues have come to my attention that I need to nurture and breathe life back into.

Friendships of all shapes and sizes come to mind. Friendships, I truly believe, are the living breathing entities that keep us thriving. We should all have hobbies and passions and interests, but for me, it is the company we keep while enjoying these things that makes them memorable and meaningful.

So many women blame their families for taking away their joy, using up their time, and basically social norms and expectations of the female role for hypnotizing them into some kind of being who forgets how to experience joy and ecstasy.

I want to propose a different perspective.

It is only now, a year after my child first moved out, that I am coming to realize how trapped I was in my own mind. How I simply became attached to all that I thought I was supposed to be doing. Days, weeks and months were swallowed up tidying other peoples messes and making sure that there wasn’t a crumb on the counter. It’s like ripping off a bandage when you give in to your own pursuits and desires.

It may feel frightening to acknowledge the creative, sensual woman you have hidden behind a veil all of these years.

When you finally reveal her to yourself, you won’t be able to stop from taking her in the joyful embrace of reunion. You will feast, and you will experience the entire world again with a fresh perspective. Fear will sulk out the door and take a nap so that the wild joy of your passion can dance.

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Are You There God? It’s Me. Where’s Margaret?

itsmemargaretFinding your father’s copy of Playboy. Playing two-minutes-in-the-closet. Wearing a bra for the first time. Buying your first maxi-pads.

Those were all of the things that made 11 year old Margaret Simon’s  character so relatabel in Judy Blume’s  ‘Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret’.

I can’t remember who lent me the book, but I do remember hiding it from my parents and older sister.  Although the book was a decade behind (those girls had to wear belts with their pads),  it was as a staple in my generation’s pre-teen reading diet.  It was our porn.

Wanting to know about my changing body and emotions wasn’t easy. I was shy, a bookworm and a tomboy who was raised in a body-shaming-Baptist family.  Ballsy Margaret who crushed on Phillip and bought her own pads  from a boy cashier, was my hero.

How things have changed.

After having spent my adult years fully loaded up on contraception, today was the day that I would have my Mirena removed. This morning I stood in the drugstore looking at a wall of pads, tampons, and Diva Cups wondering just what the hell I was going to need. I would have loved to have had Margaret’s advice.

croneI no longer need birth control. What I need is to return to my feminine body. To experience the shift from motherhood to new-cronehood with some modicum of respect for the awesome female form that I inhabit.

I am from a generation of women who have been convinced that our natural cycles should be stunted. We are being convinced that unless we want to get pregnant, we need to saddle up on hormones and keep a constant, obedient level of functioning that does not include paying attention to the natural rhythm of our bodies to stop, rest, rage, weep and rejoice. We have been twisted into she-men.

If I could do it all over again, I would do it like a woman, and not try to be the she-man that our you-can-have-it-all-girl-boss-culture would like me to buy into. I would get pregnant again and rejoice in my body. I would revel in my sexuality. I would do so many things differently with regard to my divine feminine.

Much like young Margaret’s character, I’m wondering about what will happen next. Except I’m in my mid-forties.

I’m noticing changes in my body; less firm, more round, a greater comfort with my own self when I look in the mirror after I slip out of my clothes and into the hot bathwater.

I wonder what happened to ballsy, Margaret when she hit forty? I’d sure like to hear from her now.

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Wisdom ‘Four’ The Ages:Soda Makes Your Hair Curly

fun on the beachIt’s been a week.

Ups, downs and all arounds.

Throughout all of it, I realized two things; I’m getting old, and I’m getting  better at the important things.

This week a childhood pal’s hubby died, and a school chum of mine died as well. They were both in their early 40’s. Before you start sending condolences, I want to be clear; neither of these two men were part of my every-day life.  My memories of them are frozen in the past somewhere among forgotten first dates, moonlit teenage-trists on the beach, and making out to Bryan Adams songs. They were pee-your-pants funny, and the kind of people you were happy to spend time with.

I’m a funeral director, so I’m not a stranger to death. But no one is immune to the rattle of mortality when she crosses your path all jangley-chained and staring you in the face with her gaunt eyes .  The death of these two vibrant men was a reminder of how fast joy and enthusiasm can get lost in adulthood.

The takeaway message is clear: enjoy it while you can. Be grateful for what you have, love the people you love without shame and with wild abandon.  Responsibility can include silliness.

Like I mentioned earlier, these things also made me realize that I’m getting better at the important stuff.

Little girl on the playgroundThe best part of my week, besides my own lovely kid at home, was a conversation that I had with a four-year-old-boy at the funeral home where I work. We discussed the benefits and drawbacks of the differnt flavours of birthday cake .We also decided that absolutely nobody is ever too old to order a Happy Meal at McDonalds because the toys are awesome sometimes.  And, at the ripe old age of almost-five, Henry decided that although he thought my hair was pretty, he would take my advise and stay away from drinking soda. That’s the reason I gave him that my hair was so curly (after all, it was the fizz from soda that bubbled all the way up from my stomach and into my head that made it that way). Henry stuck to cranberry juice.

I also dragged my middle-aged-not-a-morning-person-butt out of bed to go to an event that was very important to a beautiful woman whom I work with.  She unveiled a painting that she had been working on for a year, and let me tell you, the joy she experienced today was contagious. Life gets better the more we love other people and the more we listen to our intuition.

Friday night dinner was hosted casually without fuss, with new and old friends around the table. Not once did I wonder if it was all good enough – I relaxed and felt the overwhelming fullness of spirit we are all capable of when we let go of ego and just become present.

The takeaway message is clear: enjoy it while you can. Be grateful for what you have, love the people you love without shame and with wild abandon.  Responsibility can include silliness.  Take time to have conversations about life with four-year-olds. They’ve got this living-life thing all figured out.

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Mysteries of Mid-Life Revealed: Undies are Over-Rated

undiesIf you follow me on Instagram (andshelaughs1 & pattywaxing), you’re likely a little tired of my June holiday photos.

I spent a week in the great outdoors, enjoying a whole lot of nothing other than some icy cold wine spritzers, a few cocktails, and local craft beer. I spent hours on the dock stretched out in the sunshine reading, and catching up with my man.  We spent every night by the campfire, and slept the deep sleep of those with a clear conscience.

It was languorous and it was blissful.

The other thing that I did this week is set up my new business so that I’m ready to take on the appointments that have been waiting in the wings.  Because this isn’t a have-to, I find myself completely enjoying it!

But tomorrow it’s back to work. 

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate going in to the office. I like my colleagues, but I’m so over having to do anything.

What I discovered this week, while doing absolutely nothing but what pleased me was this;

  1. Having purpose makes mornings a hell of a lot more easy.
  2. Awareness of purpose isn’t something everyone thinks about.
  3. Self-care does wonders for the quality of my sleep.
  4. Two meals a day are enough with some healthy grazing in between.
  5. I have residual issues regarding housework leftover from my OCD upbringing.
  6. Having a hobby with your partner is necessary for the rainy days.
  7. Life without a kitty-cat isn’t a quality life.
  8. Fresh and local is damn good when it comes to food and wine.
  9. I will always, always, always miss my kiddo when he’s not close to home.
  10. Gratitude is something I need to practice more often so life doesn’t slip by unnoticed.
  11. Undergarments are totally overrated.

 

 

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What Are You Good At – Maybe Everything!

catslipper.jpgLast year I attempted to make slippers for my son’s giant feet, but after two tries, I ended up with what looked like a crocheted sleeping bag for our cat. The fat one.

Projects and hobbies are so necessary for me, that I couldn’t imagine my busy life without them. Having lived an adult life filled with responsibility, these small, creative outlets bring me immeasurable joy.

Creativity is essential to the human condition. If you feel listless, find something that makes you smile, and go out and make it. Don’t worry about how long it takes or what the end result is, try to enjoy and trust the process.

Someone once asked me if I was good at anything, given I had so many interests.  It wasn’t a question asked in ernest or with good intent, no, it was sarcastic, and in my twenties, it hurt.

Now that I’m in my forties, I can honestly say that I’m good at a lot of things.  I love doing things that I’m good at, but just as much as doing something I know that I’m good at, I adore figuring out new projects.

This month, my new project is refinishing my old desk (I’ve had it since I was 13). My office at home is completely different than where I work (I’m a funeral director).  My vision is a bright, unmistakingly vamp-fem space where I can work on making people feel their best.

At first I imagined an aubergine desk;

purple

 

That was until my little Pinteresting fingies found this gem;

pink-dresser-desk

 

My colour pallette now looks more like this;

watermelon pink

Va-va-va-voom! “And how can I help you?” I imagine myself asking from behind this little piece of heaven.

Even better than finding the picture,  I found the instructions on the www.allthingsthrifty.com website, including the paint colour and brand (Krylon)

Can I get an, ‘AMEN’?!

Having a hot pink desk would not be a professional decorator’s idea of fine decor, but that’s not what matters to me at this stage. What matters is how I wish to reflect my personality in my home and personal business space, and hot pink it is!

Yes, there will be eye-rolling by my partner, my adult son, and anyone who has zero joi de vivre. Alas, I feel a pink desk coming on.