The Steps to Where I Am

Relaxing in a hot bath, jets massaging, bubbles growing and caressing every exposed piece of skin. The dim light of the candles flicker, creating a soft light in the darkened room as the shades have been drawn, hiding the last rays of the late afternoon sun. The tall glass of cool wine sits invitingly on the tub's edge. As I slide further down into the welcoming heat of the water, I take in the atmosphere of my surroundings,and let myself feel the happiness spread through me. When I think of the man who created such a perfect moment for me, who is letting me share my life with him, I revel in this feeling of being exactly where I am meant to be.

I wonder at the circumstances of my life that led me to this moment. The interconnectedness of past decisions and choices is overwhelming when reflected on with purpose. If I took the time to trace the path of my life backwards from this instant, there are an infinite number of twists and turns along the way that would have redirected the entire course of my life. Each one of us could lay claim to this idea. Sometimes it is a result of a conscious choice we are making. In my own life this includes my university selection, the career that I followed, the man I married and then chose to leave. However, there are directions that seem to be mapped out for us, when fate or destiny decides to regain some control, not allowing us to be too content with our comfortable plans. The death of my father seemed cruel and devastating to my family. How could a man with so much life left in him, be taken away? The remarriage of my mother has not only given her the chance to love again, but has also allowed our family to grow beyond the familiar boundaries of what had been our life with our father. The birth of my youngest daughter, diagnosed prenatally with a life-altering physical and mental disability was another unforeseen event that was a shock to our family. Now, as I watch Lisa grow, see her kindness and witness her gentle, but determined nature, I am grateful to be on this path with her. I can't wait to see where it leads.

Each of the steps I have taken that have led to where I am right now has come with its own set of emotions and consequences. Sometimes the steps have been painful, but other times the happiness that it has created has been worth the ride. My goal is to make those moments of seeing the cup half full last longer, or at least be remembered more boldly. One of my followers made a comment about the feeling of happiness which struck a chord with me. It showed me another way of going forward, of taking another step with a positive mindset. "...the feeling of 'happiness' is always a fleeting moment. The only time it is longer is when it's your memory of happiness. It is normal that life is up and down in the span of a day. You come to rejoice longer periods of happiness through your memory of it."

I am not going to critically analyze the interconnectedness of my life decisions. I am not going to play the "if only" game with myself. But, I am going to amaze myself with where I take myself next.

When is it ever enough?

I know that this time of year can be a source of conflict- the joyous celebration of Christmas, gatherings with family and friends, good cheer to all! The flip side of the holiday coin is the gritting of the teeth at various events; the perfection of decorating, baking, shopping; the crowds; the pressure of creating that nostalgic holiday in today's high tech world. As I am writing this post, I am feeling the pull from both poles of the Christmas globe. This evening, sitting amongst family and friends at my daughter's Christmas concert, marvelling at the magnificent beauty of the country jewel of Catholic churches that we are blessed to have in our community, I feel a tightening in my chest as the tug of Christmas memories floods my mind. The carols echo; I sing along with the school choir; I disappear into the spirit of the holidays. How quickly that fades as I drive home alone, walk into my cold, dark house, and wish for that feeling back again.

How do I keep that sense of peace? When will all that I do ever feel like it is enough to satisfy myself, and to satisfy the people in my life?

I write...but I want to write more. I want to reach out to more people.
I teach...but I want to reach every single child in my class. I want to make a difference for each one of them.
I parent...but there are days that the baby steps seem enormously gigantic.
I am a friend...but why do I feel like I take more than I give.
I love...but why do I feel like my words and my actions are not enough.

I cannot undo what has happened. I can only learn and grow. I can embrace the people of my life, and be grateful for who they are. I can look around me every day and soak up the small miracles of my life. If you want to join me, my life is open and the ride is waiting. The cost of your ticket? To know that I am doing enough.

The Impetus

"When the chocolate comes, your whole life will change. It's the impetus." (p. 42, Lamb). This quote is taken from a book that I am currently reading called Julia's Chocolates by Cathy Lamb. I admit that the only reason I picked this particular book off the shelf at Chapters was because the word "chocolate" was in the title. The green cover with the picture of the wedding veil hanging from a tree branch also caught my eye. But, as I read the synopsis on the back cover, I was drawn to the story as well. It will be added to my growing collection of chick lit books that portrays a woman who finds herself struggling to survive amidst the chaos of her life. This story has a bit of eccentric humour with the addition of peculiar Aunt Lydia: the obviously strong character of Aunt Lydia draws the strength and courage out of what seemed, at the beginning, like the weakened Julia.

I believe that things happen for a reason. I also believe that we are drawn to things, to moments, to events in our lives at exactly the right time for a reason. Why did I pick a book by an author that I had never heard of? Why did I actually buy the book? Why did that particular quote steal my breath from me when I first read it? Why did I keep reading that quote, and then fold the page down so I would always know where to find it? My blog, these posts, these pieces of my life that I have openly shared with so many of you have all been the chocolate that came into my life at a time when I needed an impetus; I needed to change. It has been almost six months since I wrote my first blog post. There are weeks that I have found it difficult to write and to share. But the words I have received in return from the many followers that take the time to read about one ordinary woman's life have inspired me to keep writing.

So what has happened since the Chocolate of Women has come into my life.
* I got a job in a school that I called my chocolate school long before I came up with the idea for the Chocolate of Women.
* I began the process of re-educating myself in the ever-changing field of education. The passion for my teaching surged back into my life.
* I ran my first 10km race. (emphasis on the word "first")
* I have connected with so many women who motivate me in ways that are unknown to them, but are small celebrations to me.
* I have met a man who inspires me to be more, who challenges me with his sharp mind, but also lets me be me.
* I have confronted some of my personal fears in some of my most tumultuous relationships. (this one is a continual work in progress)

I know that we tend to get caught up in the drama of our own lives, and it is easy to hide out from what the rest of the world is living. My writing, and the sharing of it, has helped me to open up the everyday, ordinary lives of women. It has helped me to realize that we are all very extraordinary in our own way. It has made me more aware of the similarities of our fears, our desires, and our dreams. I now know that I'm not the only mother who is frantically waiting for that text message on a Saturday night from the teenager who can't seem to read the time on that same cell phone that sends thousands of messages a month. I know that I am not the only woman who scrambles madly to pick up dirty laundry, and tidy an untidy house when the door bell rings. I know that many other women fear the state of their hair at the end of a hot, humid day. I know that many women love to share with their friends, and feel the chocolate comfort over that shared cup of coffee.

My life has changed, and it will continue to change. Will chocolate be the impetus? Maybe, along with many of the other "chocolates" of my life.

Brick Walls

I read a lot. And when I read, I make connections to many different parts of my life.
When I read for pleasure, I sometimes align myself so deeply with the hero or heroine that it is almost hard to say goodbye to the characters when I get to the last page. I feel compassion for their struggles, as well as joy in their successes, as though it was actually something that was happening to me.
When I read for teaching, the ability to focus on the theories and practices can sometimes blur on the page. But, there are times when I feel the excitement of finding that one strategy that will help the little boy in my class who just can't get it. I find a problem to solve that I can't wait to share with my class, to see the "aha" moment of discovering the solution. (See if you can figure this one out- my grade 2/3 class could: You can't hold it. It weighs nothing. You can see it. When you put it in a can, the can weighs less. What is it?)
And when I read for self-discovery, for personal growth, I get to experience my own "aha" moments, and I apply them to my life. They aren't always successful. The changes that I make aren't always well-received by the people closest to me. But, the impact that some of these ideas have had on my life makes the unbalanced chaos that the people around me might see and feel, worthwhile.

In my last post, I described how I had been struggling with writer's block the past few weeks. Ironically, there were many other brick walls that I was faced with during the same time frame which were frustrating and, at times, zapped the energy out of me. This analogy of the brick wall was something that I first read about in the book "The Last Lecture" by Randy Pausch. Terminally ill with pancreatic cancer, his book was a tribute to the last lecture that he made- a lecture about achieving our childhood dreams. One theme that repeated itself throughout his writing, was the idea that we are all presented with obstacles or "brick walls" on our quest to achieve our childhood dreams. But, these walls aren't there to make the acquisition of our dreams impossible, or to let ourselves believe that the dream is so out of our reach that we should just give up. Instead, "Brick walls are there for a reason. They give us a chance to show how badly we want something." (p. 79, Pausch). "The brick walls are there to stop the people who don't want it badly enough. They're there to stop the other people." (p.73, Pausch).

One of my dreams, or perhaps three of my dreams, has been to first nurture, then guide my children to be responsible, to be kind and compassionate, and to be happy and at peace with the choices that they make. There are many days as a mother that I feel as though I am sliding down the brick wall, back into a pit of mud at the base of it. Can that look of annoyance, of pure negative attitude really be directed at me? Can those angry words being thrown at me truly be what my child thinks, how my child feels? Not only have I slid down the wall on days such as these, but I am buried in that thick oozing mud up to my waist trying to find a desperate handhold on the wall in front of me, trying to pull myself up and out. How do I get out? How do I start the climb up that wall again? I remember what the dream is. I remember that the brick walls of parenting are there for a reason. Some days it is easy. There are days that are filled with laughing, teasing; days filled with pride in each other. These are days that I feel as though I am almost over the wall. But, then the other days- the days of anger, the days of being scared- suddenly creep back in again. But, I know how badly I want the dream. I remember that I want my children to be caring, responsible, and happy. I know that I want that dream for my children more than anyone else does, and that makes the brick wall surmountable.

Everyday Passions

My writing has always been a way for me to escape. It allows me to release what is building up inside of me. It lets me air the negative, but also lets me remember the positive. I sometimes have to remind myself of the feeling, the high, that I get from putting my thoughts on paper. For the past few weeks, I have been consumed with report cards, curriculum expectations, medical issues, the drama of motherhood, the daily living of life. I tried to sit down to write. I wanted to recapture that moment of euphoria when I have finished a post. But, for some reason, the words were stuck. I needed to find a way to climb the wall of my writer's block. I had to write again to rekindle the connection I have made with so many women. I had to write again for me.

I keep various journals, depending on my mood, depending on the purpose of my writing. I read through many of my pieces hoping to renew the inspiration. As I was reading, the pride of seeing my own words on paper grew into that desire to write again. One piece in particular was written shortly before I created "The Chocolate of Women". It was written at a time when I was building the passion I feel for my life and all of the people and things that I have in my life. It was written in the spring, when the world reawakens, when it is easy to hope. The journal that I chose to write in on that spring day is called "Passion, every day".

May 24, 2009: "Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things." (Denis Diderot) I am sitting on my back patio, sipping my coffee, listening to the birds, the sound of my neighbour's water hose as it soaks the dry ground, breathing in the scent of my purple lilac bush, feeling like I am on vacation at a northern Ontario resort. I want to revel in the feeling of being away from my life, even if it is only for half an hour. For this small bit of time, there are no unwelcome interruptions into my thoughts- internally or externally. The sun is feeling warmer now, almost hot, so bright on the white pages of my journal. I love late spring; the world is alive again, and has breathed new purpose back into my soul. I feel the drive to make my passions grow. In the dark days of winter, I was afraid that I had lost that drive or buried it so deep that it would take years to resurface. But, each day I feel its return and welcome it with open arms.
Today's passion is my garden. The beauty and colours of my gardens inspire me to tend to them, learn more and watch them grow and mature. Today, I add life and beauty to my outside home. I am so lucky to have the means to spend a glorious Sunday pursuing this passion. It is not a chore. It is the beauty of my life.


As I read this journal entry this week, chips of my writer's block fell away. I wanted to feel that passion again. I wanted to remember all of the small things that have healed me, and have allowed me to grow into the person I am. I wanted to write.

I Am Who I Am

Why do I let the opinions of others guide my life? I have touched on this topic in previous posts. It is a struggle that I have battled for as long as I can remember. At times, the battle is screaming loud and in my face. Other times, it is a soft whisper that I can barely hear, but always enough of an echo that I know it hasn't completely disappeared.

Living in a small town has given me the blessing of having lifelong relationships, family and friends always present and ready to help me up, laugh with, share a life with. But, with that blessing, comes the loss of privacy, the lack of anonymity that I sometimes crave, that I need in order to quiet the ongoing conversation in my head; the worries and fears of what others will think.

The way I look, the way I dress, the way I act, the behaviour of my children, the state of my home, being a single mom, my job, my friends, and on and on and on. Why do I care? Why do I feel judged?

This past week, a person who I have known only since this past summer-a person who has come to mean so much to me in such a short time- reminded me that no matter what I say, what I write, or what I do, people are going to think and say and feel what they want. It is their problems and their issues that ultimately affect how they will react to anything that is happening in my life. It is beyond my control. All I can do is be who I am. With those words, he helped to remind me that I need to live my life with confidence knowing that I am doing everything I can to move forward in a way that not only fulfills me, but also shows the people who I truly care about and love that I will fight for them, I will stand with them.

The first day that I met this man, I remember saying to him that I was tired of trying to prove my worth to people. I was fed up with living up to what other people wanted. I am who I am. What you see and experience with me is what you get. My state of mind on that carefree summer weekend allowed me to let down my guard and not pretend. He saw the best of me, but also the truth of me. Because of that I have allowed him to reach in and discover more about me, to draw more potential, and to open me up to new possibilities.

When I begin to feel vulnerable or weak, I only have to remember his words "Jo, just be who you are. Be confident in what you say and what you do."

Others may sometimes be offended by my words or my actions. If I need to apologize I will. If I need to defend, I will. But, if I am just living my life, being who I am, then I will continue to live, to speak, to write, to love, to be me.

What's Broken Can Be Healed

Almost four years ago, with my foot in a cast, the dream of walking without crutches, without a cane, without a limp was a daily prayer. I would wake up each morning and hope that I was one day closer to healing. I wanted to know what it felt like to jump out of bed instead of strapping on the velcro air cast and pumping the air into the hidden bubble sacks to the exact tension that would give my foot the needed support, but not cause the numbing sensation of zero circulation. I wanted to stand in the shower again instead of balancing unsteadily on one foot as I tried to lower myself into the tub without causing even more injury. I wanted to go for a walk. I wanted to dance. I wanted to fill my day, not endure it. I wanted to appreciate what had temporarily been taken away, and never take it for granted again.

The broken foot, ironically, occurred at a time in my life when there were so many other things that were broken. When I retell the story of that night of dancing in my bare feet- which ultimately led to a trip to the ER, a plaster cast, an air cast, surgery, a fibreglass cast, the air cast again- it might seem as though my five month saga was adventurous, even comical. It was, after all, only a broken foot. What people don't see or hear, and what I never wanted them to see and hear, was how that short loss of my independence and my capabilities created a struggle inside of me that eventually gave me a source of inner strength that I didn't think I even possessed. I re-evaluated so many of my choices during those months. I could let my life continue to feel broken, or I could take charge, fix it, and then give it time to heal into a life that I really wanted.

Four years later, my foot long out of the cast, and I know that not only has my physical self healed, but I am on a path that is helping me to create the life that I once thought was out of my reach. There have been many days, weeks, months that I have questioned how I tried to fix what was broken. But there have also been so many new experiences and new people brought into my life that I am so grateful for, that I don't have any regrets about the imbalance that I thought I was creating for everyone else. A counsellor I was seeing at that time was trying to help me to embrace the changes in my life while still considering the effect of these changes on the people around me. She wanted me to see that it was okay. She used the analogy of a wind chime. When a wind chime is still, each piece is hanging perfectly straight; there is no movement to create noise or confusion. When one piece of the chime starts to move, it causes a chain reaction of movement in the other pieces which creates the sound and the swaying of the entire chime. The change can be heard as a beautiful sound by some, or to others as an annoying disturbance of their silence. Eventually, the chime stills and order is restored. I was the piece that swayed in the chime. I disrupted the balance, caused the movement, and made the noise. The noise has gradually become soothing and peaceful music. The chime of my life is once again finding its equilibrium.

Finding the sources of my strength to continue the healing has been an ongoing journey for me. Last week, I accomplished a goal that I had set for myself this past summer. I was going to run and finish a 10km race with my son. There were many days that I didn't feel like adding an extra km to my training; I didn't want to run up that pool hill; and I really didn't want to hear the sound of my son's voice when I returned from the run, and he's telling me that I can shorten my time. Run faster? Is he kidding? I'm happy to have returned at all. But, what I really didn't want to do was to give up. I listened to that voice in my head as it reminded me of those crutches, of the cane, of the months of physiotherapy. I listened when it reminded me of how broken my will to be my own person had become. I listened when it told me to set my new goals, and do everything I could to make them happen.

As I passed the 9km marker at the Festival City Run, I could hear the crowds near the finish line, as each runner's people inspired that last shot of adrenaline to get to that line. Nearing the last bend, an old friend of mine who had already finished the race, ran up beside me, pushing me with his encouraging words, and I could feel the energy inside me build. As he dropped away to let me taste the thrill of the finish, I looked up and saw my three children, heard them cheering for their mom, Greg yelling at me to pass the girl in front of me. I sprinted to that finish line with a smile on my face, and a sense of pride and accomplishment in myself for having achieved my goal- I had finished the race; I had rebuilt my life.