This Must be the Place

This post has been rattling around in my head for a few years but it didn’t feel like the ‘right’ time during a global pandemic.

For as long as I can remember, it’s irked me how much time and money we invest into our homes and yet we’re rarely in our homes long enough to fully appreciate them – personally speaking.

Prior to the pandemic, Monday-Friday, I was out of my house from 5:20 a.m. – 4:30 p.m. (some days longer due to unreliable public transit and inclement weather conditions). This left me with ~4.5 hours to make dinner, eat, and unwind with my husband – before getting up at 4:30 a.m. and doing it all over again.

During a 120-hour week (Mon-Fri), I was only awake in my house for 27.5 hours. 77% of my week was spent AWAY from home.

Weekends! Weekends were of course comprised of errands & chores that couldn’t be accomplished during the week: groceries, appointments, cleaning, renovating, gardening, baking, vehicle maintenance, laundry, shopping. On weekends away, I’d experience low-grade anxiety.

When was I going to find time to clean the bathrooms?!
And change the bed?!
And do the laundry?!

There never seemed to be enough TIME to maintain a home I felt I barely had a chance to live in. Yet the bills never stopped, nor did the dust bunnies…

As of March 2020 (working from home), every day is a gift. I am so grateful to have this time to really SEE and APPRECIATE our home.

On breaks I can do the dishes, shovel the back deck, pick up a prescription, throw a load of laundry in, start a pot of soup, mail a letter, rearrange furniture, take the dog for a walk, and – yes! – even clean the bathrooms and/or change the bed if I feel so inclined! It’s glorious to no longer be bound to a regimented schedule that dictated the majority of my waking life.

I love my home. I love being in my home. And I love maintaining my home – especially now that I’m finally able to spend quality time here.

Simply, joy.

An Open Letter

Dear COVID-19,

While we (to the best of my knowledge) have not met, you have deeply scarred me.

Like any traumatic experience, my brain has blocked these events for self-preservation. Unfortunately I’ve learned that these ugly dark memories can be triggered – by the news, a radio commentary, a product, a post on social media, and so on. I may not recognize the trigger immediately because my body and mind have suddenly clenched in sheer rage and sorrow, simultaneously.

“The origin of the word trauma
Is not just “wound,” but “piercing” or “turning,”
As blades do when finding a home.
Grief commands its own grammar,
Structured by intimacy & imagination.
We often say:
We are beside ourselves with grief.
We can’t even imagine.
This means anguish can call us to envision
More than what we believed was carriable
Or even survivable.”

– Amanda Gorman (Good Grief)

You may assume I am declaring how you impacted my personal life. You would be wrong. My deplorable experiences with you were purely professional. (And yes, I am eternally grateful that your affect only ever reached that far.)

When triggers occur, my brain/body transports back to 2020-21 working days – fighting to stabilize my erratic breathing, and electrified with adrenaline. Internally flooded with anxiety, sorrow, angst, desperation, worry, panic, and devastation.

My profession is to ensure hospitals have the products, supplies, equipment, instruments, and systems required to treat patients.

March 2020: almost immediately all PPE supplies dissipated due to global demand (and hoarding): masks, gloves, face shields, goggles, gowns, bouffant caps, hand sanitizer, shoe covers… Nothing was available from trusted vendors, and third-party vendors offered inferior products at unconscionable rates just because they could. We persevered.

Through it all, one assignment haunts me to my core.
One product.
An item no one associates with you or ever considers, even though your path of destruction has claimed millions of lives (*6,669,730 to-date).

Body bags.

During the days when you remained unclassified, we had no idea how you spread. Even after it was determined that you were transmissible through respiratory droplets and aerosols (when an infected person breathes, coughs, sneezes, sings, shouts, or talks), utmost precautions were also required for bodily fluids and gases expelled from the deceased.

While there are typically hundreds of variations available, our pandemic criteria was clinically very specific, thus making it extremely difficult to find a suitable product. Time was of the essence, and yet there was no time…

This task shattered me.
I couldn’t sleep; times when I did fall asleep, I bolted alert at all hours racking my brain for solutions.
I cried – a lot. (still do)
I couldn’t think about anything else. My mind continually ruminated the same information, the same terrifying reality.

It was my own private Hell.

The world around me was dealing and trying to cope with you in a myriad of ways; action, inaction, reaction.
How could I possibly disclose that humans were dying at a rate impossible to keep up with? That entire wards had been turned into holding areas for the deceased? That refrigerated vehicles were being rented for additional storage? That the morgue had me on speed-dial awaiting a solution and reporting daily death toll? There are many morbid details I cannot (will not) share. It was this knowledge that nearly broke me.

How somber (and sobering!) is it to admit that finally finding the ideal body bag was a major accomplishment in my professional career?

While society took to social media to lament over missed vacations & having to quarantine & not seeing their loved ones & social distancing, I was shouldering the responsibility of safely and respectfully preparing someone’s loved one(s) for final transport.

“..Even as we stand stone-still,
It’s with the entirety of what we’ve lost
Sweeping through us like a ghost.

What we have lived
Remains undecipherable.
& yet we remain.
& still, we write.
& so, we write.
Watch us move above the fog
Like a promontory at dusk.
Shall this leave us bitter?
Or better?

Grieve.

Then choose.”

– Amanda Gorman (The Shallows)

Please know that though you have scarred me, you have not defeated me. My gratitude for the many blessings in my life are celebrated and acknowledged each and every day. It is through my gratitude that I will heal, and perhaps one day will no longer respond to your triggers.

Signed,
~Simply Joy

Perspective (2019)

As we embark upon another New Year with hopes and dreams and goals and gratitude, I would like to share a different perspective and instead give thanks for all the things I do NOT have.

Marital Problems.   My husband and I will have created & shared a beautiful life together for ten years this coming November. Naturally we bicker and disagree on things, but our foundational promise to each other in the early days of knowing one another was that we’d never go to bed angry, and always remember to respect each other. We are a Team and nothing can come between us.

Health Issues.   Throughout the course of our lifetime it is so important to acknowledge and recognize how fortunate we are in the meat-suits we live in. Self-care is mandatory, however sometimes nature overrides our physical and mental states. In 2004, I was diagnosed with Stage 3 cervical cancer. After numerous treatments over the consecutive years, I was proclaimed cancer-free in 2009. Though cancer-free, the following years provided me with various other reproductive challenges: uterine fibroids, endometriosis, and non-cancerous tumours – all manageable (& monitored annually). Sure, I still get the occasional cold/flu, suffer from dysmenorrhea, am physically allergic to gluten, and feel under the weather mentally from time to time but underlying it all I am blessed with a healthy, active, and functioning body every day.

Work Strife.   My employment journey has taken me on a truly diverse path including (but not limited to) Dollar Store cashier, Produce clerk, Retail manager, landscaping, radio station DJ, social media Marketing, Copy Editor, communications & web development, and more. All of which have led me to my current position (Coordinator, Supply Chain & Evaluation) that I absolutely adore. Each day is different from the next, I am constantly challenged, there are always new things to learn, and the work that I do greatly impacts the lives of others. It’s a win-win opportunity!

Financial Woes.   If ever I were to win the lottery, the most I would want is one million dollars; anything more is ridiculous (and anything less would be greatly appreciated). Until this day, I will continue to thrive as a financial enthusiast working with our own budget. Numbers and maths excite me and I take great pleasure from creating achievable financial plans and completing them. We have two working strategies that have proven successful: pooling a defined amount per pay for common expenses (mortgage, bills, groceries), and secondly, completing one major project at a time (rule: each project must be fully paid off before launching into something new). Using these methods we are still able to save for retirement, go out at will (movies, dinner, concerts), and travel the world.

Simply, joy.

 

 

Moments of Mention

It’s been awhile.

In September (2017) my Mum moved in with us after a traumatic chemical fire robbed her of her house. The 5 months following was spent investing all available energy & resources into rebuilding her home, her strength, and her spirit. On February 4th, Mum returned to her home and has been unpacking, organizing, nesting, and thriving since.

In October (2017) my brother cautiously confided in Mum that he and his wife were newly pregnant. We patiently waited for the doctors’ appointments, the blood tests, the ultrasounds, and ultimately to learn that the pregnancy was progressing well for both mother & baby.

In June (2018) my brother will be celebrating a milestone birthday, and what better way to commemorate than with one of the most wonderful gifts of all – a new baby girl or boy!

In August (2018) we will be embarking on an epic road trip heading West to celebrate our Great Aunt’s 90th birthday, as well as to visit my husband’s ancestral grounds. Rather than mapping the route and booking Air BnB rentals, we’re renting an RV and will camp along the way.

Life is good.

Simply, joy.

Strangers Tend to Tell Me Things

People have been attracted to me for as long as I can remember – people wanting to talk; acquaintances, transients, customers, and most oft complete strangers. I’ve often wondered if there’s a secret sign on my forehead that reads: “Talk to me – I”ll listen.”

I noticed it a lot working in retail and attributed it to the idea that it was because I couldn’t leave/walk away from my station. There were times (especially working evenings in a record store) where I felt as though I was a pseudo-psychologist to those who would perch themselves in front of my counter. I didn’t mind and I learned a lot about numerous people I’d most likely never see again.

As a public transit commuter I encounter a variety of people in my daily travels. It doesn’t matter that I visibly wear headphones (listening to music), people are inherently drawn to engage in conversation with me. I happily oblige because, at this point in my life, I trust that each of these persons:

1. has something they need to get off his/her chest,
2. desires human connection in a time of loneliness, sadness, and/or social media,
3. has a valuable lesson or insight that I’m meant to hear.

The best part of this phenomenon – in my opinion – is that all I have to do is listen and occasionally acknowledge the person speaking. There’s nothing demanded of me – no one asks me questions (Where do you work? How was your weekend? What’s your name?), they just talk.

Here are a few of my favourite [recent] strangers. (*note: names have been changed)

Aldo: 78-year-old Italian man who takes the bus every morning at 6 a.m. to catch the shuttle to the casino. Has made quite a living for himself through gambling winnings, and enjoys expensive clothes and cuisines. He is the last member of his family. He is very proud of how handsome he looks on his driver’s license.

Peter: single, middle-aged man, living with his brother, in charge of creating passes/badges for Correctional Workers across Canada. Loves to play golf, travels to Montreal frequently to visit family (of 11) and watch the Habs. Lost his beloved dog in October but has ordered a new Collie puppy from the same breeders and will be picking it up in 8 weeks.

Hatim: South African who moved here with his (now divorced) wife, no children. Parents still in South African, sister and husband recently moved to Newfoundland. The family communicates primarily through Skype/FaceTime even though the mother is clinically blind. Works at Winners in the warehouse. Finds that marijuana edibles alleviate the symptoms of depression & anxiety his prescription medications cannot. Loves reading/sharing his daily horoscope (Gemini).

Kay: Jamaican cook who works at Lansdowne during the day and holds another job at night. Constantly smells of marijuana. Travels with friends on the afternoon bus, though they never sit next to each other; they prefer to fan out at the back of the bus to take up as much room as possible and to appear sinister. Favourite colour is pink. Has a hard time accepting rejection, and prefers to pass handwritten notes to ladies he favours.

Doreen: divorced, mid-60s brash and brazen woman who works for the same company I do. Smokes often and has the voice to prove it. Hates her daughter’s boyfriend and never misses an opportunity to use colourful loud language to describe him (he once forgot to pick up the turkey for Thanksgiving). Her mother is ill and spends a lot of time in the hospital. She is the only one of her siblings who takes care of her mother. Her birthday is May 17th, which she spends with her mother each year.

Jean-Claude: Jamaican jogger of city sidewalks, never wears appropriate running attire. Enrolled in Engineering at local Uni, lives with his brother and mother. Is very shy around women and prefers texting (or writing a message on his phone and passing it to you to read). English is his fourth language. Dirty Harry is his favourite movie. Enjoys running in the morning because it’s quieter and there are less people on the sidewalks.

Eran: single, middle-aged conspiracy theorist working at the same company as me. Loathes cellphones and social media (tracking!). Once saw a young girl nearly get killed because she was looking at her phone and walked out into oncoming traffic. Refuses to wear gloves in any temperature because he likes the feeling of losing feeling. Proudly owns a bright pink floral umbrella because he knows no one will steal it. Never wears a hat because he likes to feel the fresh air in his hair.

Yolanda: wife, mother, petrified of wet pavement that may or may not be black ice (who can tell?!). Born in Spain, hates to cook, mother lives two blocks away with assisted living, works for the government. Works from home on Fridays, which is also her night to cook (she usually makes pasta or sliders because they’re easy). Spends entire month of May in Spain each year with her family. Makes plans each week for ‘something to look forward to’ (i.e. facial, spa, pedicure, movie, shopping, etc.). Her ideal weekend is to stay in, read, and be left alone. She and her family have eaten at every single eatery in the neighbourhood. Some days chats my face off, other days completely ignores me.

Antonio: retired AirForce controller who still goes in to the office each day to help “train” new staff and help with the paperwork. Gets bored sitting at home all day. Divorced, three daughters (living in France, Montreal, and Winnipeg), loves to drive to the East coast. Owns a white Volkswagon bus and each year picks up hitch-hikers heading East. Always wears a fedora and tie, always carries an umbrella.

Fred: elderly Polish man, volunteers at soup kitchens, has a bum left leg, wears a shiny oversized navy blue parka. Chews Wrigley’s gum because it reminds him of going to baseball games with his dad. Observes people around him and is genuinely concerned about the younger generations walking into things (due to constantly having their heads buried in their phones).

Chester: Korean public transportation driver, early 40s, owns multiple rental residences across the city, has 2 sisters (whom are stuck up, entitled snobs), takes excellent care of his mother. His 4 year old nephew once told him a dirty joke: “some horses were playing in the mud.” Loves to drive and travel around the world. Wants to own real estate in Thailand, San Francisco, and Bermuda one day. Believes that all cultures have their own unique ‘smell’. Was in a car accident in July (other driver at fault) wherein he should have been killed, yet walked away without a scratch. Wants to get married and have kids but fears his time is running out.

These are just a small sample of the many fascinating individuals who approach me, just to chat. While I may not see them every day, and may not see some of them ever again, they’ve each shared with me subtle fragments of their lives and I am grateful to have heard them.

Simply, joy.

I Adore Life

Amidst the constant chaos of family, work, social media, friends, international news, strangers, and everything in between, I feel it important to express how much I love life.

There won’t be any rants to explain and/or justify the infinite reasons why – I just do.

I adore (my) life.

Simply, joy.

Miracle on Roche Street

This is my Mum’s beautiful house.

One week ago today, Mum went out to visit a friend and returned to discover the sound of fire alarms activated inside her house. Not thinking, she flew into the house and was met by a wall off sheer and utter blackness – a space void of any light. Fortunately, at this same time, a neighbour saw the smoke and managed to get Mum out of the house.

Mum was treated at the local hospital for smoke inhalation and tested for chemical toxicity in her bloodstream, and was later released with a clean bill of health.

While there were no visible flames, the Fire Department has deemed it a chemical fire, originating from a cable receiver box (shown left), causing maximal smoke damage to the entire interior of the house. The blackness Mum walked into was literally a cloud of melted plastic particulates containing numerous hazardous chemicals (see window below). These same particulates/chemicals affixed themselves onto/into every surface of the house (see white bathroom sink below).

The interior is a write-off and has to be stripped down to the studs and completely rebuilt from the inside. The shell of the house remains in tact and unharmed.

While the definitive reason as to why this incident happened has not been uncovered (and may never be), there have been so many blessings in and around the events which occurred.

1. Mum was not home when it happened and is 100% alive, healthy, and safe.
2. We were able to recover/clean necessities (clothes, etc.) – everything was NOT lost!
3. The Guardian Angel neighbours graciously opened their home/hearts to Mum & I for three nights to allow us to gather our wits, fulfill legal requirements, and enjoy the comforts of home (meals, showers, beds, etc.).
4. An incredible insurance policy to cover damages, services, and contents.
5. Mum did not own a lot of possessions and/or furniture, therefore disposal and replacement will be effortless.
6. The house is quaint and will not take long to rebuild.
7. We have a room for Mum to utilize until her house is once again ready for her.
8. I’m transitioning between positions/departments at work, which is allowing me the time off to take care of/spend time with Mum while also following up on legal matters pertaining to the house.
9. My Mum is (still) with me.

Despite the shock of the event itself, we are experiencing every best possible outcome and there are sincerely no words to describe how grateful we are…

Simply, joy.

Staying In…

“Home is where the heart is.”

“There’s no place like home.“

“Home sweet home.”

While we are surrounded by an abundance of messages pertaining to the importance of ‘home’, the average person spends the majority of their life AWAY from the household due to education, social lives, careers, and travel.

One of the most common societal goals is to one day acquire your very own home; yet once we accomplish this significant accomplishment, why then do we spend so much time making plans to escape it?

We were fortunate enough to buy our house almost 4 years ago. Like all substantial investments, it requires tender loving care and attention to detail. My husband delves deep into the structural care – to ensure its strength, safety, and durability – whereas my care flourishes inwardly, to all the spaces between the walls. Together, we have established a beautiful home permeated with love, warmth, security, and joy.

There are nights we go out to dinner, concerts, social gatherings. There are weekends we spend away at the cottage, visiting friends and family, traveling. Yet no matter where we go, or how long we are away, our house remains our sanctuary.

I thrive on my time spent in our home – dancing in the kitchen while I concoct meals, reading in the living room with the fireplace on, suntanning on our expansive back deck, doing laundry in our newly renovated basement, inviting friends over for a BBQ or Games Night, taking a nap in our bed on a languid Saturday afternoon, shoveling out our long driveway, playing with the dog in our backyard, colouring at the dining room table, exercising in the spare bedroom, pampering myself with a long hot shower, cozying up with my husband (& dog) watching a movie…

Though I know the world outside has much to offer, I am so grateful for days when I can just stay inside and bask in the comforts of the Home we have created.

Simply, joy.

Daily Dose of Optimism

At work we have a whiteboard beside the main door which was originally used for announcing staff birthdays. (*note: I do maintain this tradition, for the record)

As I am one of the first people in in the morning, it irked me to see a cold, empty, sterile whiteboard every morning when I arrived. So back in November, I decided that colleagues should be greeted with a joke or inspirational and/or motivational quote.

Each morning I write a little message on this board to make others smile.

The feedback has been very positive and our work environment has benefited from the wee dose of daily joy.

Yesterday, my colleagues wrote back:

Simply, joy.

Practicing Hygge

Hygge (pronounced hoo-ga) is a Danish term roughly translated as coziness.

Danish winters are long and dark (sound familiar fellow Canadians?), thus the necessity for hygge – essentially creating a warm atmosphere and enjoying the simple joys in life with good people.

Hygge is more than a cozy room full of candles, company, and good food.

Hygge is a philosophy; a way of life that has helped Danes understand the importance of simplicity, time to unwind, and slowing down the pace of life.

Create space and time to do nothing but enjoy the simple joys with family and friends.

Simply, joy.