the truth about lunch and the humility highway

owen invited me to meet him for lunch yesterday.

it was an unusual event being he works all over town,

is very busy and as far i know takes a lunch every morning with him.

i never know for sure as i am still lazy in bed when he is getting out the door.

i met him in the parking lot and noticed he was sizing me up,

and it wasn't because of what i was wearing..that i promise you!

i leaned in for a kiss and laughed at him.

i knew what he was up to.

you see, i've just recently, in the past 24 hours,

 broken the news to him that i have diagnosed myself

as being depressed.

this is a diagnosis i have been refusing my entire life, and for good reason.

i have not been depressed before.

i have been sad. i have been down. i have struggled. i have been sick. i have been very, very sick.

i have had my share of kicks and i have survived a few hard situations in my life.

but with  notable differences. those hurdles were all managed with optimism and the ablity to see them as temporary.

i know now, for a fact that i was correct in never accepting or even considering the depression diagnosis because man,

this sucks.

and just like that, i understand what i empathized with but never really "got" until now.

i am pretty sure that this current place i am in is harder than the other places i have once been.

so,

here i am.

accepting that for now. for today. and  tomorrow  and certainly for the past month or so,

i am and have been not just sick and tired and worried out of my mind for the curly haired girl,

 but also depressed.

like the clinical kind.

 the "check off these boxes if you are feeling this way so we can give a name to your despair so that you can understand that you are legitimate in how you are feeling" kind.

but enough about that. 

back to lunch.

owen laughed, having been "caught" so quickly  and i told  him that i was aware that he was sizing up his newly depressed wife and he confessed that yes, he was indeed trying to read "my face" in order to know how to proceed.

we laughed again and i promised him that i wasn't intending on changing my look much and i was certainly not going to turn different shades of "blue" to make it more convenient for him.

we settled into a mediocre lunch

on a windy patio with a tippy table.

this drove me to distraction

which is a symptom of my current condition.

very. low. tolerance.

 i'm so done with being okay with everything that happens to me.

so done with it people!

(and this is just a tippy table. my entire house should be shuddering in fear)

please don't be offended by my glib approach to my current state.

i am aware of how serious and how life changing and how much work it is for those who battle

(and yes, battle is the right word i now reilize)

depression.

i am aware, all too aware of the different opinions and options and reasons, and judgements and well, just all the "stuff" that looms over the word.

i am no stranger to medical controversy and the natural vs. medical debates that rage about every condition out there.

i have my work cut out for me as i construct a "plan."

and i am indeed constructing a plan as fast as this turtle slow body and mind will let me.

i am continuing down this humility highway at breakneck speeds and i need to and want to be able to somedays have a sense of humour about this.

we need to laugh.

so there you have it.

depression and a lunch date all in one afternoon.

pretty successful day i think.

May has been full of confessions here at the blog.

 starts of conversations and processes i am working through.

 this concerns me-

 all this starting of conversations that seem to have no end. 

 i am a girl who appreciates closing doors that i open, or at least walking all the way through them once i've opened them up wide for all to see. 

i intend to keep you, my beloved readers up to date on the stories as they progress. i promise not to leave you wondering what happened to the "tania space" or how it is going with my birth story work. it's all being worked on, very slowly mind you. but the stories will have more to share.

 i promise.

 Thanks for joining in my life with me here in this space.

i'm having a visit today

i'm having a visit with my wise self today.

i am curious to know what she will say.

finding myself in the pages

i'm reading Brene Brown and finding myself in the pages

i'm reading Hafiz

and for those of you who think he wrote those words for you,

i have to tell you differently.

 his poems are written

 just.for.me.

i'm reading a doctoral paper on adoption trauma

and i am pretty sure i was who she was speaking about,

 i know she didn't interview me, yet her quoted inteview sentences are the very words i have whispered into my journals.

i'm reading the backs of seed packages for the specifics about care

and thinking

"yup, i also need sunlight and space" to thrive.

my yogi tea messages are reminding me that

"your greatness is not what you have, it's what you give"

and i stop and think

well, i don't really want to be great, and actually i need to stop giving so freakin much all the time

(but thanks anyhow)

so while  i don't necesarily accept everything i read

 i do believe that everything i read has a message for me.

a secret message envelope i recieved this week in the mail has a cutout that says

"richness is the place i call home"

and i am reminded that i need to work on creating that space for me.

but first there is the fridge to clean out and the floor to wash and the grass to cut.

i am finding myself in the pages of others because while my story has unique elements to it

it is not at all uncommon.

there is great comfort in knowing that these very paths i am plodding along have been discovered already. not every bump of course, not every wandering trail to the left or right but the main path is well flattened by constant use

and i am grateful to the ones who took the time to jot down their thoughts and wisdom along the way to serve as a guide for me.

this is an observation, not a complaint.

i was sitting in the car

this morning outside of the library and i noticed

that i didn't want to go home.

this is an observation that has been growing in my slowly these past few months.

it's not about who is at home.

it's about me.

i am not feeling "at home" in my home.

our house is a busy one. a place of caring and acceptance

the door is always opening and someone will walk in and stay a short while, or a long while.

and this is something that we are deliberate about and i love.

our home is a place where i have learned to accept people in regardless of the mess and the chaos.

this has been deliberate and taken work

but it supports my belief that vulnerability is the way i want to live my life right now.

honestly sharing our lives with others translates into others seeing that i don't always do the dishes,

i haven't vaccumed in the last few days and yes, there is still a hole in the wall from many years ago.

usually covered up by something, but recently laid bare.

this is a very vulnerable act.

(the hole tells all sorts of stories that may or may not be accurate just by being there)

if i were to guess, and that is pretty much what i do most days,

guess,

i would say my home is lacking a place for me.

a spot that says

"this is for you Tania. come here to refuel. to recharge. to be"

our home is our haven.

our home is our safe place.

i just need a little corner for me.

i am curious how other women make this work.

it feels as if being a mother of teenagers is so much like being a mother of toddlers.

trying to carve out some "mommy time"

i remember it so well. waiting till they were all in bed and then retreating to my creative space.

for a few years it didn't feel necessary because life was easy and we all coexisted together during those golden middle years.

now, i feel myself being absorbed fully by my role of a parent and losing the other parts of me.

that is actually what i am looking for

a little corner will help.

random thoughts...

there was a gigantic cat, perhaps even a racoon in our backyard today checking out the chicken.

the chickens, curious girls that they are all crowed up to the wire so they could get a better look at their visitor.

i decided that i needed to trust that Owen built a very sturdy chicken run and didn't go out to "rescue" or "intervene"...

just let it play out.

the chickens are all still there.

curious as ever.

today Gideon finished his first year of schooling for Plumbing.

i am incredibly proud of him and also slightly puzzled by his calm and orderly progression through the teenage years.

he is now accomplishing what most  early20 years olds are working through yet he is still 17.

i am grateful for this boy.

or perhaps i should say man-child.

so grateful.

i had tea yesterday with my dear friend Judi and we spent alot of time talking about birth stories and how they make up the fabric of our lives as women.

story telling is an important part of our lives and the shaping of our current identities.

i am still working on mine.

the big garden is planted full of lovely spring offerings but without some sun and warm weather

the seedings are destined to stay just that.

seedlings. teeny tiny ones.

i may need to revise my basket program to start in June instead.

i laugh at my yearly optimism over gardening.

i have been planting for so many years and i know every year that May is cold and damp,

yet April tricks me.

those warm days that come and feel so permanent.

obviously not.

it is rainy and cold and damp and very west coast.

it has been a slow week for me.

i am coming to terms with my new abilities and they don't feel very big, strong or important.

it is a shift from the old way to the new way.

i noticed last night as i was talking to owen just before he fell asleep that i no longer end my day with the belief that i will be well in the morning.

every night for, well, 3 years now, i would say to him

"it's okay babe, i'm going to be better tomorrow"

and i truly believed it.

i guess i stopped saying that about a month ago.

i am choosing to see this as growth. acceptance. progress.

not as discouragement and the giving up of hope.

which is what is sounds like,

and on the darkest days,

actually is.

but by reframing those words i can choose to see acceptance of who i am right now

and learn to live with that reality.

there can be freedom in that.

(but hot tears still form when i type the words)

Living in the Quiet Zone.

making my choices carefully

resting alot and learning to accept my limitations

remembering the adaptations that make life easier.

noticing the gray and finding them beautiful.

accepting the gifts that come with rainy days.

staying true to the plan

the plan was to take a year right?

to give myself, my body, and my family

time to rest and recover

and to get this colitis into remission.

it was an agonizing decision and one that came slowly and then fell into place quickly

and before I knew it the daycare was packed up, I no longer saw Maria twice a week

and the little ones were relocated and settled in nicely.

my family has enjoyed having me home. there was a clean house, dinners, time for tea dates and homemade break and endless tv marathons.

i started my remicade treatments, had time to do nothing. and began to heal.

began to feel balanced.

but i am wavering.

 feeling lost a wee bit. tempted by outside offers,

 feeling the struggle to find my self worth in myself, not in what i offer the world.

i find the lack of structure necessary for my body and soul but tricky to navigate some days.

there needs to be a balance right?

but how does one plan when the body has a mind of it's own and turns traitor on me withought even asking if this is a good time to shut down?

there is a humility that comes when plans need to be cancelled last minute,

opportunities considered and then denied.

an emptiness and sorrow that is hard to explain even to myself

but a necessary one.

i am four months in and that leaves eight to go.

i can't even imagine the angst come September when i don't return to "work" in some formal capacity.

i am gently adding some structure to my days and the few hours I get that are pain free

are spend very carefully on chosen activites that feed my soul and my creativity.

i garden. i create art with small ones.

it is a choice.

i choose one activity over another because most days i don't get the luxury of doing two.

this is the reality of living with an auto immune disease.

 and for a girl who has always prided herself on doing more than necessary,

on always saying yes, and on finding her self worth in her service to others,

this new life is so different.

and so challenging but so full of gifts and blessings and growth and discovery.

i am pretty proud of myself for sticking to the plan.

it's tough. and i almost didn't listen to the intuitive voice reminding me.

owen helped. so did praying. and reflecting. and remembering.

but mostly, honouring myself by saying no, when i really, really thought saying yes would be the right thing to do.