Welcome to My Reflective Practice
For as long as I can remember, I’ve turned to writing as a way to make sense of both the ordinary and the extraordinary moments of life. These pages hold years of letters, poems, and candid reflections; pieces of me working through love, loss, change, and possibility.
I invite you to explore, wander, and search for the words that resonate. May you find something here that meets you right where you are.
Eat Your Freezer
Too many options can create confusion, the freezer is simply a microcosm of our larger society in all of its excess and waste.
I read a blog a few years ago called Eat Your Freezer and completely embraced the sentiment from that day forward. The article encouraged people to take stock of their freezer twice a year – January and July – and use up what they have, refusing to buy a single freezer good for those two months. I am a sucker for anything goal setting and even more so when you combine goal setting with decluttering. With those two things, I was a complete convert.
Here’s what I have noticed since Eating My Freezer:
- Encourages goal setting. I always include the family into these months. As I take stock of what we have and need to eat up, I write it on our kitchen chalkboard. As I do, I remind my husband that we are once again eating the freezer and every time he shops yell out the door ‘NO FROZEN FOODS!’ The list on the chalkboard serves as a reminder when making meals.
- We save SO much money in those two months! January is an expensive month as the credit card bills from December roll in as well as our salaries dropping back slightly with CPP kicking in again. Our kids are still of daycare age and the summers also tend to kick us in the ass financially. So, this small but effective habit is helpful financially in both of these months!
- I get some Tupperware back into rotation! I know this may seem minor but it’s always right before that I find myself wondering where all of it has gone. One month later, voila! - Tupperware is back where it should be!
- I bake more. Cleaning the freezer helps me remember all of the old bananas, shredded zucchini, and frozen fruit I threw in there with the intention of grand snacks. School snacks switch from store bought to homemade and I may even make a pie or two!
- We eat things before they expire! Before doing this challenge, my freezer is where food went to die. Seriously! I would keep things so long that I would forget what they were or question just how long they’d been in there, and usually toss them out of fear. This way, I know the max amount of time something has been in there is 6 months. No fear there!
- Frees up time. A lot of the stuff in my freezer is already made, delicious, healthy soups/stews/meals that I made an extra batch of and froze (with the great intentions of eating sooner). I simply take it out and reheat. Easy peasy!
- Keeps me in check and humble. In today’s society where excess is the norm this helps me to stay grounded and mindful of my role, how I want to raise my kids, and how truly blessed we are. Too many options can create confusion, the freezer is simply a microcosm of our larger society in all of its excess and waste.
January is fast approaching, who’s with me?
The Secret
I needed to fill some time as I watched the ambulance’s GPS tick, tick, tick along my computer screen, towards her residence.
When my job gets hard, I try to find the beauty in it.
When she was struggling with reality, I helped her connect back into it.
I asked her what her name was.
She told me.
I asked, a few times, if she was feeling confused.
She agreed that perhaps she was - a little.
She was trapped in her mind, reliving an awful day.
Trapped, she called me for help.
It scares me to think that should I lose my mind, I might get trapped inside my worst day.
So, I asked her about the happy days.
I asked her about him, the one she was missing -the love of her life.
I asked her how long they had been married.
Through the phone I sensed her confusion ease; it eased ever so slightly.
Her shoulders must have dropped. And, I like to believe, that a smile crept on her face as she pulled herself from the darkness of that horrid day, and into the good ones.
I needed to fill some time as I watched the ambulance’s GPS tick, tick, tick along my computer screen, and towards her residence.
Next, I asked her what the secret was.
“What was your secret to such a long marriage?
The dementia lifted and she shared her secret with me, the voice on the other end;
“We would watch TV together.”
I’ve taken the last few days to process the simplicity of her answer;
“We would watch TV together.”
The idea of micro-dates has stayed with me the last few days as I have processed her answer.
It’s so simple and beautiful.
The imagery of this woman, a face I can’t see but a voice I won’t forget, and her husband, long gone, sitting together on the couch sharing time, space, and entertainment brings me comfort.
She had the secret and the secret is simple: don’t stop the micro-mini dates.
Life is expensive.
Kids are expensive.
Dating can get expensive - but it doesn’t have to.
Strip it all the way back; time together doesn’t cost a thing.
Watch TV together; let her drape her leg ever so gently over yours while you sit together and watch.
When she requests that you not binge watch the next few episodes while she’s at work listen to her. She may not truly see or stress the importance, but it is important that you wait for her.
Wait until she’s home, has washed her face, put on her sweats, popped the popcorn, and made herself a cup of tea.
Wait for her to plunk down next to you.
Wait for it because it will all be worth it.
Fifty-five years of marriage will be worth it.
She’s worth it.
Never stop micro-dating her; that’s the secret.
Raising A Good Man
But a little man? Where would I place my focus? How could I guarantee to bring out the good man that lies inside of this tiny human?
Eight years ago, today, I found out I was having a boy. It was then, in that ultrasound room, that I felt the weight of the world upon my shoulders. My visible hesitation threw off the tech and, true to my nature, I made some joke to play it off. But inside, inside, I was shaking like a leaf.
The challenge lay before me, bold and screaming - raise a good man! What does that mean? What’s the difference between a raising nice person and a good man? How do I make sure that he levels-up?
This was uncharted territory for me. Raising little women? - Easy. I could do that with my eyes closed. Keep her wild, open, and safe. But a little man? Where would I place my focus? How could I guarantee to bring out the good man that lies inside of this tiny human?
I left that dark room scared shitless. My connection with this little man was undeniable from the beginning. I wrapped my arms around my growing belly and felt at peace. I decided to take it step by step - to love him hard and hope that the rest would follow. Love him and greatness will follow, right? Right?
As he grew, so did his tantrums. He would spit on me, was known to pull my hair out, and rarely did as I said, ever! Still, I loved him, hard. I was his constant. I learned what made him; what made him angry, frustrated, happy, and what brought him to tears. I adapted to his ever-changing moods, never denying a single emotion. Never. Not one.
I learned how he communicated and remembered to do so on his level, while teaching him my own ways. Communication is a two-way street, after all. Good men have their ways but respect that their way isn’t the only way.
When he grasps weeds in his hands, pulled just for me, I bend to his level, looking straight into his eyes, and show him how much joy a simple act like that can bring. Time and time again, I bend, not breaking eye contact, and appreciate him. Day after day, I am his constant reminder that simple gestures of kindness and love are enough. He is enough.
When he brings new thoughts to me, I challenge him. Daily, I ask that he consider his language, his opinion, and the world around him. When his view is narrowed, it is my job to widen it, never settling for anything less than a worldly perspective. I ask that he level-up whenever I can in hopes that he will stand before the partner of his choosing and challenge their thinking someday.
And, when he comes to me in the night, I throw open the blankets and allow him into my ‘snuggle spot.’ His fears are real. They may be different than mine, or his sister’s, but they are equally as real. I listen as he tells me what weighs on his mind. It is here that I refuse to insert my own shit. Nah - this is about him and I am just safety. This is my time to simply listen.
He was born good. I didn’t do that. What I have done, and will continue to do, is to create a world in which he is loved, heard, appreciated, given perspective, and safe. We can all level-up if we live in an environment that fosters this kind of growth. If you didn’t have it growing up, create it now. Find the people that feel like home - who will love you hard, swoon over life’s simplicities, share opinions, and hold you safe in their ‘snuggle spot.”
There exists no one-woman show.
“If I could, I’d like just a minute longer with you. A minute longer to sit on that couch, to play this out, to understand why your laugh, your eyes, and the way you placed your hand on my arm have me spinning. The night is ending, but I’m still trying to figure out why I need more time with you.”
It’s a beautiful existence, jumping in with both feet.
Perhaps I didn’t need the book as much as I needed to remember who my people are.
Tackle the hard stuff
Move through it all with kindness
Sadness and kindness
It’s possible to be both sad and kind
To lament on the way it was
While rejoicing in all that remains
I had no idea why I was in there. I just knew that it felt safe. Smaller. Or maybe it was because I felt larger.
The green sea glass is my favourite, and, even though it’s simply the remnants of Heineken bottle, we act like it’s a rare jewel, because you never know.
You scan the faces waiting for you; family, friends, and lovers all gone long before. You tell them to wait, finding the smallest one, wrapping your warm arms around her and ushering her back through to me.
Number lines are stupid and cross-multiplication is bomb. Keep that knowledge to yourself and in September do it whatever way your teacher asks for you to do it.
I don’t know who it was for, the display of anger, because it was never put on for others. I guess, in effect, It was just for me. Look at this, look at how broken you are. Fucking clean it up.
Each year my children’s’ eyes become wider and more skilled at interpretation, for every year that I age, they do too.
Sometimes there is value in letting you vent, feel powerful, and moving forward. You’re fucking welcome.
That echo can forever live in the darkness; some messages were never intended to be received, the delay too great.
In that exhale, the feeling of defeat escaped with it - a breathy fuuuuuuuck of sorts.
These pieces, I tear off willingly, proudly, defining myself by the beauty of my imperfect and exhausted soul.
A long time ago, we would meet halfway, feet on the earth, shoes in hand, and walk together.
It’s been a minute.
Too many options can create confusion, the freezer is simply a microcosm of our larger society in all of its excess and waste.
I needed to fill some time as I watched the ambulance’s GPS tick, tick, tick along my computer screen, towards her residence.
But a little man? Where would I place my focus? How could I guarantee to bring out the good man that lies inside of this tiny human?