Monday, October 03, 2016

Doing the Cha-Cha

"Believe in yourself, take on your challenges, dig deep within yourself to conquer fears. Never let anyone bring you down. You got to keep going." 
- Chantal Sutherland


Yeah, so I just started back at work.

And I'm finding getting back to the old routine less than easy.

When you have an injury it's hard to know how you are going to respond to treatment of the injury and the rehab involved.

When I broke my leg, I had no idea that the rehab process would be as difficult as it is.

I amy be out of bed, but the pain and nausea and stress that come along with rehab is sometimes overwhelming.

I can only do my best and yet I feel like I keep coming up short.

I'm totally exhausted. It's the whole cha-cha thing.

One step forward, two steps back


It is a very slow process. Too slow for my liking.

I want to be back at work. I want to be able to walk unassisted and without a limp. I want to play with my boys and sit on the ground and run and simply have two hands to carry shit when I walk.

Because I was in bed for a few months and not moving much, I seem to be suffering from motion sickness of some sort. My body is just not used to moving much, so when I do I sometimes feel nauseous.

Hello? Yeah. If what kills you makes you stronger, I'm strong enough now thanks.


I just went to my family doctor today to figure out if something else is wrong. I found out that this is a normal physical response to my situation and had some blood work done to be sure all is normal and was given a prescription for nausea and headaches and told to work only 3 days a week, 4 hours a day for now.

I am hoping these meds help and that going back to work at a reduced schedule won't pose any issues. I am so anxious to get back to a more regular routine but also know I had a really bad break and it is going to take time to get better.

But I will get better. It may take a while and the waters may get a bit choppy but I know I will heal.

Not everyone has that.

Baby steps.

Stepping Stones


I'll get there.

Smiles,

Lora







Friday, September 09, 2016

The Fall...and Getting Up Again


"If all you can do is crawl, start crawling". 
- Rumi


OK, maybe I won't start by crawling on this path.
That could hurt. Especially my knee.
But grab the metaphor and move on.


So summer is officially over.

I mean, for parents like me.

It is currently 6:16 am on the Tuesday morning after Labour Day and to say this is a summer I am anxious to move forward and away from, it is this one.

I'm sitting up in my bed. I'm exhausted.

My boys are already wide awake and the excitement of the first day of school is apparent.

My 12 yr. old walking my 5 yr. old to his first day of grade one.
Another new beginning.


In fact, as I write this, two of my boys have descended upon my bed and are singing and wrestling and I don't even know why I am trying to write a blog post.

My broken leg is healing slowly but surely. It still makes me feel claustrophobic having this leg that just does not work the way I want it too.

I'm tired of crutches. I'm tired of doctors. I'm tired of feeling lightheaded and nauseous when I try to walk.

I'm so ready for this chapter to be over.

While it is now Fall…I am ready to get up again.

I'm ready to move forward…even if I have to crawl.



So I'm choosing to think of the start of this school year as a new beginning for me.

The kids got their new clothes and skates and school supplies.

I got comfortable shoes.

Goodbye heels, hello sensible flats.
For now.


I am preparing to go back to work at the end of this month. First on a graduated schedule and then within a month, full days.

I need to build up my endurance, but I think I'm ready.

I'm finally able to drive a car again. I can get myself to physiotherapy and doctors' appointments.

I stay alone at home when the kids are with their Dad…and I'm going to be starting to do overnights with my kids.

With three boys to get ready and off to school, this will be a challenge - but this whole ordeal has been a challenge, so what the hell?

This post took me a while to write. Not because it is earth-shatteringly profound (I think we can rule that out), but because it's been a busy week.

It is now the Friday morning (like early morning - about 4:30 am) and I'm already up writing.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe said "We must always change, renew, rejuvenate ourselves, otherwise we harden".

And I've been trying to do that.

A rather cheese ball  photo of a woman who is gonna let nothing stop her.
Sue me.


But soon I'll be walking.

Then running.

Then no one will be able to stop me.

Smiles,

Lora




The Fall...and Getting Up Again


"If all you can do is crawl, start crawling". 
- Rumi


OK, maybe I won't start by crawling on this path.
That could hurt. Especially my knee.
But grab the metaphor and move on.


So summer is officially over.

I mean, for parents like me.

It is currently 6:16 am on the Tuesday morning after Labour Day and to say this is a summer I am anxious to move forward and away from, it is this one.

I'm sitting up in my bed. I'm exhausted.

My boys are already wide awake and the excitement of the first day of school is apparent.

My 12 yr. old walking my 5 yr. old to his first day of grade one.
Another new beginning.


In fact, as I write this, two of my boys have descended upon my bed and are singing and wrestling and I don't even know why I am trying to write a blog post.

My broken leg is healing slowly but surely. It still makes me feel claustrophobic having this leg that just does not work the way I want it too.

I'm tired of crutches. I'm tired of doctors. I'm tired of feeling lightheaded and nauseous when I try to walk.

I'm so ready for this chapter to be over.

While it is now Fall…I am ready to get up again.

I'm ready to move forward…even if I have to crawl.



So I'm choosing to think of the start of this school year as a new beginning for me.

The kids got their new clothes and skates and school supplies.

I got comfortable shoes.

Goodbye heels, hello sensible flats.
For now.


I am preparing to go back to work at the end of this month. First on a graduated schedule and then within a month, full days.

I need to build up my endurance, but I think I'm ready.

I'm finally able to drive a car again. I can get myself to physiotherapy and doctors' appointments.

I stay alone at home when the kids are with their Dad…and I'm going to be starting to do overnights with my kids.

With three boys to get ready and off to school, this will be a challenge - but this whole ordeal has been a challenge, so what the hell?

This post took me a while to write. Not because it is earth-shatteringly profound (I think we can rule that out), but because it's been a busy week.

It is now the Friday morning (like early morning - about 4:30 am) and I'm already up writing.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe said "We must always change, renew, rejuvenate ourselves, otherwise we harden.

And I've been trying to do that.

A rather cheese ball  photo of a woman who is gonna let nothing stop her.
Sue me.


But soon I'll be walking.

Then running.

Then no one will be able to stop me.

Smiles,

Lora




Monday, August 22, 2016

The Worst Blog Post of all Time

"Writing about a writer's block is better than not writing at all."
 - Charles Bukowski, The Last Night of the Earth Poems


Oh how I hate this little annoying thing called "Writer's Block".

I have been struggling on and off with this for a while. I want to write - I feel the need to write - but I don't know what to say.

Or rather - I don't know what to say publicly.

Not that I have anything to hide.

It's just that since March of this year - that's almost 5 months for those counting - I have been so wrapped up in my own crap - dealing with depression, anxiety and a really bad broken leg - that these things are really the only things I have had to write about of late.

I want to talk about things like raising a teenaged son, or dealing with children who learn in different ways, or navigating life after divorce - dating, integrating new relationships with kids, the challenges of co-parenting, yadda, yadda, yadda.

But most of these topics seem like a breach of trust to a certain degree.

My life is pretty much an open book - because that is who I am. I like to share my own personal experiences and stories. I do write on different topics, but I am very much an anecdotal writer.



But some people are much more private and I need to respect that. My son(s), my significant other, my ex…these are people who are considerably more guarded about their privacy and I get that. This is not their blog - it is mine.

It is not my place to spout details about their lives - even though their lives are so intertwined with mine.

There are many stories to be told…many lessons to be learned…many topics to discuss - but I have to be careful about the other people in my life.

And hence, so far this post is about how I can't write a post.

This is obviously me and my typewriter wearing a smashing shade of red lipstick with a bad case of the block.


That's great Lora.

Fucking brilliant.

And so in these times, I just start to write and see what comes out.

As a blogger, I have a different style of writing than, say, when I have been hired by someone else (like a magazine or website). I have a very conversational blogging style. I write the way I speak. I use slang. I sometimes use less than savoury language (sorry mom).

I edit very little.

I edit paid articles and essays and work reports like a crazy mo-fo, but not my blog.

It just feels more sincere and authentic.

It is currently 5:26am on a Monday morning.

Granted, I don't have to work today (because I am still recovering), but when I feel the need to write it kinda takes over and something pulls me out of bed - enticing me to start typing.

A more concise word for this phenomenon would be 'insomnia'.

FAK!


Why toss and turn when I could be creating? Telling a story? Sharing?

Well I will tell you why. Because I'm tired for the love of the baby Jesus - but I can't sleep!

And again a recap of this blog:

A bunch of words that are saying basically nothing.



I am so fucking profound sometimes.

I obviously need a brainstorming session but for that…one requires a functioning brain and mine is working at a sub-par level at the moment.

Not that I don't do some decent writing work in the wee hours of the morning.

This is just not one of those times.

Perhaps if I put my glasses on I will suddenly feel smarter.
Nope.
In fact, I think my goal for this post is to say absolutely nothing - except that I have nothing to say right now.

This is exciting content people!

OK. I will end the misery of it all.

This is possibly my worst blog post of all time.

Please forgive me or sue me. (The first one is much cheaper and easier for everyone. Trust.)

Smiles,

Lora




Thursday, August 04, 2016

The Handi-capable Quandary

"My disability exists, not because I use a wheelchair, but because the broader environment isn't accessible."
 - Stella Young



If you've been reading recent blog posts here, you probably know that I have spent most of my summer in bed after a bad leg break.

If not - well - I have.

Because of this, I have been watching copious amounts of Netflix.

Also because of this, in the past little bit I have been learning how to crutch walk with a knee that is healing but is still very much sore when I push myself (which I have to).

As such, I have done and noticed a couple of things.

First of all…I have gone out a few times - and have noticed that certain public places of business (restaurants, stores, etc) are not all totally wheelchair-friendly. And I'm only on crutches. Some doors were not automatic. Some had steps with no ramp. I needed help from the person I was with or relied on the kindness of strangers.

This is 2016 people! I actually have been pretty passionate about this topic as throughout my childhood, my academic studies, my career and just in general, I have met and worked with many people who use wheelchairs - for different reasons - and I am sensitive to some of what these people deal with.

To be clear, I am not saying I know anything about needing to use a wheelchair on a permanent basis. My broken leg is a big inconvenience and a pain in my ass…but it will heal.

But I didn't all of a sudden become interested in issues pertaining to people who have physical (or mental) disabilities because of a few observations I had using crutches.

I did do my final major report for my Sociology degree at University on "Wheelchair Accessibility in an Urban Setting" and was told with a little editing it could be published. But with my professor in Guelph and me and my report partner both had jobs to attend to back in Toronto so unfortunately it never happened. (Sorry. Me tooting my own, little rusty horn from over 20 years ago - yay me. But I digress.)

This means different things to different people.

In any case, we spent a lot of time on this - interviewing people, each spending a day in a wheelchair in different Toronto settings to try to assess as best we could how different people and businesses defined  "accessibility'. Many were lacking. A ramp and door opener simply does not always cut it. It was an eye-opening experience.

I also grew up with a mother who worked as a physical and occupational therapist and I also worked both with people with special needs (physical and mental) in different City of Toronto summer camp programs and I now work with a number of people who have spinal cord injuries or use wheelchairs for other reasons.

That just gives you a little taste of my background.

Back to my copious TV watching for a sec.

(I promise that - I think - my point will come together eventually. Trust.)

Perhaps you have heard of a little show that used to be on regular TV and is now on Netflix called Glee.

Members of the cast of the TV show Glee.

Despite my love of musical theatre, music in general and clever film/TV writing and concepts, I had admittedly assumed Glee was kinda lame and while I checked it out a few times, I never really got into it.

Then again, I religiously watch The Bachelor, so who am I to say what is lame TV?

But then - with all this sitting and TV watching, I kinda got into Glee. It's sort of like musical theatre without having to go to the theatre. It's fun. The actors are talented singers and it is actually very well-written and parts of it are funny and parts are touching even.

Those of you who are familiar with Glee will know that there is a regular character on the show named Artie Abrams.

Glee character Artie Abrams.

We learn in the show that his character had had an accident when he was a child and as a result became paraplegic. He is a member of the central group of characters in the show - a high school show choir or "glee club".

Now let me start by saying this. Artie Abrams is played by an actor named Kevin McHale.

The talented actor/singer Kevin McHale.

Kevin is as good an actor as anyone else on the show. He is a very talented singer…and as it turns out (through research as well as a few dream sequences on the show where he could walk) - a very good dancer too. He has full use of his arms - which is a requirement of the show given the dance numbers and moves he does with his chair and arms on pretty much every episode.

But here is my caveat.

Kevin McHale does not use a wheelchair in real life.

Was he the best actor/singer for the role? I don't know - maybe he was.

But I can't help but think that there must be some very talented actors/singers out there who do use wheelchairs and who are therefore very limited in the roles they are offered.

Another thing I want to make clear. I am now very aware - and very happy - that Glee is a show like no other that I know when it comes to representing people of different races, religions, sexual orientations, gender identifications and such.

They also have two recurring characters with Down Syndrome - both of whom are played by actors with Down Syndrome. The show even has a teacher - and main character - who has a gripping mental disorder - OCD - and it deals with her struggles in a very real and sensitive way.

Glee even regularly refers to people with disabilities as "handi-capable" - which I think is awesome.

The show has a strong anti-bully message and I think they do an excellent job of promoting that everyone is their own person and has the right to be who they are as long as they are kind (although I do wish they had a strong Muslim character - especially with the current world landscape - but that is a whole other post).

So why not hire an actor/singer for Artie's character who actually uses a wheelchair? Short of the two dream sequences I noticed - which I'm sure could have been re-jigged - I just don't get it. It actually kind of pisses me off - as much as I really do enjoy Kevin McHale on the show. Again - absolutely nothing against him.

Does anyone else feel this way, or is it just me?

Again - I don't know who auditioned for the role - but I find it very hard to believe that there are not actors/singers who use wheelchairs who dream of a part like this. In fact, the character Artie struggles with this himself on the show.

At one point he dreams of being able to walk so he would be considered for more roles as a performer one day!

Hello!

Anyways…I don't mean for this to be a rant but rather an observation and food for thought because I, for one, have been thinking about it for a while.

The world ain't perfect and there perhaps are bigger fish to fry - but something compelled me to write this.

I would love to hear your thoughts.

Smiles,

Lora






Saturday, July 30, 2016

Letting the Light Back In


"Ring the bells that can still ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack, a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in. 
 - Leonard Cohen



So yeah, I've still got this broken leg. 

I fucked it up pretty bad.

And I was just starting to feel better!

Me, earlier in the day, before I broke my leg.


And then my depression and anxiety kinda took a back seat.

At first. 

It was strange. First all I could focus on was the physical pain. 

Then I was completely bedridden - and I am talking no going to the bathroom beyond the commode beside my bed. I was sexy.

And that was strangely novel and comforting at times because it was like I was given permission to stay inside my little cocoon - my bed - in which I had escaped my depression and anxiety for the 2 months prior. I could sleep and hide and escape whenever I wanted to during the day.

It's like I was a butterfly coming out out to spread her wings and then being suddenly shoved back inside her little home.

Me trying to be my hilarious self on my massive, fibreglass cast.

And that lasted pretty much all of June until the doctors decided I had healed enough that I could actually move enough to go to the bathroom. Then go down the stairs on my butt to go to the living room with my leg raised. 

And that is when it got difficult again.

I was in my safe, little bed-cocoon and then I suddenly did not feel like leaving.

I felt like my wings had shrunk even though I wanted so badly to fly.

It was like a giant oxymoron.

I was going stir crazy and had cabin fever like mad but going downstairs and sitting outside on my terrace just seemed like too much. 

Yeah…that was pretty much me.


I had bad days. I was back to crying. 

Then a good friend of mine passed away from cancer. 

She was wonderful and positive and was a mother of three children.

That both knocked me down and lifted me with perspective at the same time.

Another oxymoron.

Life is short. 

Life is precious.

Life is not a bowl of cherries lying in bed all day - but depression is very real and despite the perspective that I know I will get better - it was difficult.

But if Liz could fight…so could I.

I have done this before and I can do it again.

And so I did. I started to go downstairs - and not just for the kids. First an hour. Then two. Then three at a time. 

I found it exhausting - but ultimately good for me.

This is how much my right leg muscles atrophied. Lots of work ahead. 


And I am at the stage now where enough is enough of this bullshit. I now have a brace that allows me to bend my bad knee. I have a physiotherapy routine that I need to follow in order to slowly rehab my leg.

This week has been pretty huge for me. I actually got outside crutch-walking with only feather weight-bearing on my leg (touching the ground with the foot of my bad leg but all weight on crutches) - just in front of my house for a short bit.

My first walk outside since the accident trying unsuccessfully to look ravishing.


Then yesterday I actually went out for lunch at a restaurant. Wha-What?

Perhaps not a big deal for you but a big step for me.

It was the first time I had left the house and gone anywhere other than for hospital appointments and a funeral home visit since the accident. 

Afterwards I was exhausted but glad I did it. I was pushing myself because I felt like pushing myself. 

I wanted to be back in the world again.

This is a good sign people.

It has been a long Spring and Summer.

It will probably not be my easiest Fall either as I continue to rehab my leg and also (hopefully - and I have confidence that I will) - be well enough physically to walk and drive again come the start of the school year. 

My plan is to go back to work. I'm going to try my very best. It will be a transition - but I need and want my life back. My kids need things to go back to normal. My parents (who are helping take care of me and my boys since the accident - my mom has been living here) want their normal lives back. 

Am I scared of a depression relapse? Well…one always is - but I'm feeling confident. 

I got all this. With my support system, great kids, great parents and great friends I will tough this out.

It's just a really strange combo suffering from depression and then being starting to feel like the cloud is lifting and then to be sent back to my bed. Back to staying in my house for the most part. Back to sleeping…even when not tired - because hey…what else is there to do except watch copious amounts of TV or read? 

But I feel like I have turned a few corners of late. 

I can feel the fighter in me.

I can feel the laughter and my sense of humour more often - and I'm not just trying to make the people around me feel better. 

Is it still two steps forward, one step back? Yes. It will probably be for a while. 

But I'm on guard for that. I know that with ever corner comes the possibility of a hill to climb or bump to stumble over. 

That's life people

But as C. S. Lewis said, "There are far, far better things ahead than anything we leave behind."



So I'm gonna run with that thought. 

Or at least walk. Sort of. With crutches.

And then eventually, those wings will work.

Smiles,

Lora




Thursday, July 14, 2016

Black Lives Do Matter

"What a sad era when it is easier to smash an atom than a prejudice."
- Albert Einstein



I can't stay quiet on this anymore. 
Is it a complex, multifaceted issue? 
YES.
I would say of course that all lives matter...but that is not the point of Black Lives Matter.

What happened in Dallas or the Toronto Pride Parade (less serious obviously but related) - were not cool - I don't care who the minority group in question is. 
HOWEVER - this does not change the fact that Black Lives Matter is a movement that I support. 


Is "Black Lives Matter" a confusing name for this movement? Apparently it is for some. Context in language is sometimes just that. 
But has this controversy brought attention to their important issue?
Answer me that. 
I would think so. 
And I think it is good that people are having more conversations.

Just don't stop a parade and insist on police officers - many of them gay - from participating in said parade (my opinion) and certainly - and much more importantly - don't resort to violence - especially the horrible gun massacre that happened in Texas. 

Evil exists everywhere. There are evil white people. There are evil heterosexuals. There are evil muslims. There are evil Jews. There are evil people with disabilities. There are evil black people. There are evil homosexuals. There are evil people from Iceland. 
I could go on and on and on for the love of what you find sacred. 
But the majority of anyone included in any or some of these "groups" are not filled with hate.



Do I make my point?

I understand (as much as I can as a white, Canadian woman), that police violence against people of colour is a serious issue not to be ignored and that there is a lot of very justified anger. 

In short - what I understand Black Lives Matters' main message is, is that the racism - specifically between the police and people of colour in America - MUST STOP. 
They are not saying that people of other races don't matter. 
We just need to figure out a more peaceful way dealing with the root issues. 

Sadly, with all that has gone on, this is a very convoluted matter and a sad commentary on bigotry in this world - especially in America - today. 


Gun violence and bigotry related to many minority groups are both alive and well - look at Orlando as another example. 
It makes me angry and very sad. 

And as much as we need to continue the conversations - what we really need is American Congress to step up and take some meaningful action because all this talk without doing anything means nothing.

And the optimist and perhaps idealist in me will end this post as I usually do, even though this is nothing to be happy about.
But I think it is obvious that our world needs positivity more than ever.


Smiles,

Lora

Sunday, June 19, 2016

My Dad is the Best

"I am not ashamed to say that no man I ever met was my father's equal, and I never loved any other man as much.
 - Hedy Lamarr

My Dad

My dad - Robert "Bob" Breakey -  is one of the most lovable people on the planet.

He is kind, thoughtful, supportive and generous. I guess it makes sense that since my mom is so great - so is my dad.

I really lucked out.

I can talk to my dad about anything and I get his emotional support. Now, part of this has to do with his years of being a Guidance councillor as well as a distress centre hotline volunteer for many years - but he knows how to listen and how to respond.

I feel totally safe with him which helps me immensely.

Me and my dad painting my first rental house at University.


My dad also has this gift. He is funny without even trying to be funny. He has always had this quality and it has made me wish I had written down every funny thing my dad has said and written a book.

My dad has provided me with so many belly laughs I can't even tell you.

He is just a "say it like it is" kind of guy and sometimes he is just so hilarious. He has no airs about him.  He just is who he is - and because he is such a good guy…well…it is hard to explain but he is just one of the funniest people I know.

He was always there in my childhood - ready to read funny stories or have fun outside.

My Dad with my brother Paul and me.


He is giving. Right now, he is driving all the way from Toronto, before rush hour, in order to take my three boys to school because my mom is so busy taking care of the boys and me after my leg accident. He is the ultimate Tim Horton's gifter - and is a wonderful "Papa" to my children. They love him to death.

Two of my boys a while back with their "Papa".


He's an awesome BBQer. He vacuums and dusts and cleans. One of the most common things he says is "I don't mind" - and he means it.

He love me unconditionally and he has never, ever made me doubt that. He is encouraging and positive. He treats my mom the way she deserves to be treated.

I love my dad more that I could ever put into words.

Happy Father's Day to all the hard-working dads out there.

I love you dad.

You simply are the best there is.

Smiles,

Lora

Monday, June 13, 2016

Break a Leg

"Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy and change ordinary opportunities into blessings."
 - William Arthur Ward



Just because my life needed a little extra pep to its step, I went out and broke my leg.

Like, really bad.

It's been a difficult couple of months, but I was out at my boyfriend's place where a few friends had gathered for a casual, evening BBQ.

The sun was shining, the tunes were playing and glorious steak, prawns, sweet potatoes and veggies were grilling.

I was sitting taking it all in and remember thinking to myself, "This is so nice. I actually feel contentment and joy."

I was having a really nice time - which was a really great feeling.

So much so, that I decided to join in an ongoing pick-up game of badminton taking place in the backyard.



We rallied a bit and then the birdie came towards me - albeit a little too far ahead of where I was standing. Now I may not be an athlete, but I can get pretty competitive - so I lunged forward to try and make the return swing and then…boom!

Down I went, onto the side of my face and shoulder which somehow caused my knee to make a loud cracking/popping sound.

I grabbed me knee and shouted in pain. I knew this was more than just a minor deal.

It hurt like fucking hell on fire.

My boyfriend and another friend helped me over to a chair and quickly got my knee elevated and iced.

It was feeling worse just as dinner was being served and my boyfriend said he should get me to the hospital.

My disappointment went beyond the pain of my leg. The feeling of joy I was experiencing that evening  was so refreshing and now my evening was to be cut short (or long…as it turns out).

I had a few bites of food before my boyfriend decided it was time to go. I was reeling with pain. It took three guys to try and move me - trying not to move my hurt leg - out of the backyard to the car. The pain was so excruciating that I insisted they put me down as I felt faint and sick to my stomach. Anything I had managed to eat came right back up.

Wonderful.

Now here is where the story gets long and drawn out - as hospital ER visits tend to be.

It was packed. We waited a few hours and the pain continued to worsen. My knee was swollen to almost twice it's size. All I wanted was pain relief.

After what seemed like forever, my name was finally called and we went in and I was transferred to a gurney which hurt so much I yelled as though I was in labour. I was finally able to use the Lamaze breathing I had learned in classes before my first born son arrived - by c-section…like the other two after him.

The doctor came and took a look and said he thought it was probably a torn ACL - not good - but I would be having an x-ray to check my bones. He also told the nurse to give me some Percocet.

Thank you baby Jesus.

By the time the x-ray was done, the meds were kicking in. It became obvious when I went from crying in pain to saying hello to a police officer I was passing in the hallway and thanked him  for his service with a smile.

As it turned out I had broken a major bone just under my knee pretty badly. ACL damage was not assessed at that point - I was told I would be getting a temporary, full-leg, plaster cast and would be given an appointment to see an orthopaedic surgeon the following morning to take a closer look and get a permanent cast.

My massive, blue cast.

By the time my boyfriend and I got home and got me very slowly up to my bed it was past 5:30am.

My parents came out and now my Mom is practically living with me.

My Dad comes out on the days when I have my boys. My boyfriend comes and helps when he can.

I have a portable toilet - or commode - right beside my bed. I give myself blood thinner injections daily. I have a nurse that comes three times a week to give me a sponge bath and wash my hair.

And I was just starting to feel as though I could see that light at the end of the tunnel. After a couple of tough months battling depression and anxiety, I was finally starting to feel more at peace…more in the mood to socialize a little. More in the mood not to spend all day in bed.

And so I was at this BBQ. And I broke my leg.

And now I'm stuck all day in bed.

For weeks. Possibly months.

But here's the thing.

I can still see the light at the end of the tunnel.



Is this a setback?

Yeah…it totally sucks. But I think it has also helped me in an interesting way.

I can't do very much for myself and therefore I have no choice but to rely almost entirely on my parents, my boyfriend and even my ex for help.

Rather than feeling sorry for myself - which I do from time to time…don't get me wrong…what I feel more than the depression or the anxiety from which I have been suffering…is intense gratitude.

Now with this gratitude comes some guilt - because my folks' - especially my mom's - lives have been turned upside-down. I am completely reliant on them to feed me, help me go to the bathroom, let the myriad of nurses and therapists into my house and make me as comfortable as possible.

They are also making it possible for me to continue to see my sons as much as I can. My boyfriend relieves my mom from having to help me when he can and my ex takes the boys more than his share to relieve my mom and dad from the craziness that dealing with three boys (and their bedridden mom) can often be.

I am grateful. I feel lucky more than shafted. I feel hopeful more than hopeless.

The pain I feel is more physical than emotional - and that is a step in the right direction. Not that I'm taking any actual steps these days - but you catch my drift.

I'm lucky.

My leg situation is bad, but could have been much worse according to my orthopaedic surgeon. I am uncomfortable and bored and in pain and all those things but I know I will get better.

My loved ones have rallied to help me and I can't help but feel warmth in my heart.



Perhaps this happened for a reason. Maybe I needed this lesson…this reminder.

I would have preferred something a little less arduous than this - and I can be sure that my mom would agree - but when other people are picking up most of my slack because I just can't do it…well…it provides perspective.

Gratitude is really central to happiness.

I have wonderful people in my life. My family and friends are awesome. I always knew that - but when you become almost helpless, it becomes magnified. And that overshadows the sadness.

I still have a ways to go to heal.

But gratitude keeps that light in sight.



Gratitude is light.

And it feels comforting.

Smiles,

Lora




Friday, June 03, 2016

Sharing is Caring

"There is a surrendering to your story and then a knowing that you don't have to stay in your story."
 - Colette Baron Reid




OK. So that was a cheese-curd title to this post.

Sue me.

Moving on.

Some may wonder why I write so much about my personal struggle with depression and anxiety - especially now.

I have written about it before - but not in so much detail. Kinda skimming over it - not really digging deep to express what I am truly going though.

People tell me I am brave and courageous for being so open. Many of these people are suffering or have suffered in the past - be it from similar conditions or other "invisible" illnesses or disabilities and feel they can't speak out. Which sucks.

And I get that. It is hard to open up about something that still has some stigma attached to it. Things are better - but there is still work to be done.

I just feel that as much as this is a difficult time for me…and as much as I want to hide sometimes…that I am at an age where I feel a certain sense of responsibility to share.

Again, part of this comes with the passing of time. I read a great article about women in their 40s and how there are certain things we no longer have time to give a fuck about. Well…clearly…if you have been reading…I still have some personal work do do on the fucks I choose to give…but this is an area I excel at. Or at least I am told.

Helping people through the written word.

And so here I am. I have a blog. I have a fairly strong social media presence and readership…and so I am trying to be as open and honest as I can.

Just remember everyone is different. Mental illness is such a broad term. I would consider myself a high-functioning person - and so I am usually able to manage my condition(s) and carry on a busy, fulfilling and happy life.

Me looking happy and fulfilled.
And having a good hair day.
But as I write this my hair looks like shit if you must know.
I will return to work as soon as I can and I will continue to try to build my career and raise my children and grow my relationships and try new things.

I am also aware that part of that - a big part - has to do with my life circumstances and my amazing support system and I can't emphasize this enough.

My folks are amazingly supportive. As are my friends. My boyfriend - who has never really had to deal with someone he cares about so much going through this before - has and continues to prove himself to be someone who asks a lot of questions - seeking to understand- seeking to be as supportive as he can. And he is showing me that he is a real man. An intelligent man who understands life is not perfect and neither am I. And I love him for that.

My kids are healthy. I have a home and food and a job. Even their dad - my ex - is helping me so that I can get better (and he knows I will because he has seen it before) and so that his kids have a healthy mom.

Some people don't have the support - and that is why I feel I have a responsibility to reach out. I know I don't have to, but I feel that I can and that I have a platform. So why not do something positive with a shitty situation?

I am not brave. Well, I guess I am because I'm fighting a difficult battle.

But I mean in terms of sharing. I just have the tools, the people (my "village") and somewhere in me…still the confidence to speak.

And if you know me well enough…I'm a talker…and if I believe in something I will tell you. And I believe the stigma of mental illness needs to be shattered. So for those who can't speak…and that is totally OK…I will because I feel that I can.



Everyone has personal life challenges - be them health, work, family or otherwise related.

We need to be adults and understand this. We adults also need to educate our children. The schools are getting better - but for those of us who are parents - we need to do our part too.

So this is why I keep on going.

And I am trying to live in the present. I have written a lot about that too.

And this is my present.

It is not my favourite time…but I am doing what I can with it - and as I said I have family and friends who surround me with love and support.

This blog is morphing a bit - I know - because my older two boys are now 14 and 12. They really don't want me sharing major details of their life within the blogosphere - which I understand. My little guy Drew is only 5 - but I have written about parenting little boys for so long, I feel like I have already covered a lot by writing about my older two.

Just an excuse to share a cute photo of my boys.
Yup…they are getting older and bigger!
Single-motherhood is a topic I could go on about. But again…a lot of that is centred around my children, my ex and my long-term boyfriend - and much of that I choose to write about sparingly and more generally - mostly because of their tendencies to be more private. Also OK.

My blog will continue to morph and diversify as I get back to my best health and move on to other changes and challenges in my own life.

But I really do enjoy writing and I prefer to write as myself - not under some fake name. I am who I am and you can take me or leave me.

It's a fuck I choose not to give anymore.

But here you are reading…so thanks. Thanks for visiting. Thanks for listening to me repeat myself a few many times during this difficult period. It's therapeutic for me as well - and again - my main goal is to make others who struggle feel a little less alone.

We can all do our little part in making the world a better place. Many of you do already…for me. Even those of you who have reached out to me to offer encouragement and support. Please know you are making my world a better place. So thank you.

Thank you smooch!
And see…the sun shining. I know it's there.

And if you have another friend or loved one who is going through a difficult time - be it through illness, loss of a loved one, life transitions, whatever - don't hesitate to just let them know you are thinking of them even if from afar. It helps…and it will come back to you some day.

Trust.

I have seen that the universe naturally sends you back what you give.

It's hard to lose that way.

Smiles,

Lora