welcome back

The fuzz butt is back. 

Sweet (and slightly deranged) Rueben Henry, my buddy for the last 7 years. He's been living at a doggie daycare type place since December. For a smallish dog, he's A Lot Of Dog... the apartment I'm cohousing in with my friends is not set up well for having A Lot Of Dog. They are gracious. The amazing woman who has had Rue off and on the last 3 years (Kat) is also gracious.  

We aren't ready to move into our house yet (more on this another time) and I'm not prepared to move into the trailer yet (more on this also at another time). But I was willing to chance bringing him back to the apartment. 

This pandemic has the world upside down. I'm one of the "lucky ones" with an essential service position. I still have a pay cheque and regular hours. Luckier still, we didn't finish the house when we thought we would. If it was complete, I'd have left my essential service job for a home business. Lucky because work affords me connection with humans. Also lucky, I have housemates and I'm not alone in my home. 

But this last week, pandemic life has been hitting me hard. I've had a few bouts of tears in grief and frustration, for sure, but last week was borderline panic attacks.  The lack of touch has been eating my soul, and this last week I just hit the wall. Repeatedly.  

I'd say touch is one of my top love languages.  My last hug was March 12th. My last touch on the arm was March 12th. My last arm over a shoulder was March 12th. Cue tears, shortness of breath and a squeezing feeling in my heart.... because when the hell is this going to end? We don't know. 

Someone said to me the other day "what if after this, people don't touch any more?" I was thankful it was a text conversation,  I just sat there weeping. 

That's when I decided,  Ruerue is home. He might be hiding from me a little... some social distancing... because I keep picking him up and squeezing him while making happy squealing noises. But at least now there's touch. And while I still tear up thinking about not touching, not being touched, at least I can breathe. 

people in your neighbourhood

Two days ago I was driving home and thought to myself "ha! I've made it nearly two years without getting into the newspaper!"  An accomplishment,  sort of, for a community building type person, but also a giant check valve for me... I've been so wrapped up in building a house, I'm not participating in community, let alone building it. 

Today I received interview questions by email. Which made me laugh. 

Now, they aren't for the paper.. do we even have a paper anymore? But they are for a journalism project for someone that I know. 

G: Can you tell me about a person that is important to you in your life and why?

Me: My dear friend Amanda. I am blessed to have a tremendous circle of friends, but she showed up at just the right time in my life and in just the right ways.

 My mom passed away maybe 10 months before I met Manda, (the details are hazy) maybe it was a year? My long time friends just didn't know what to do with me and my seemingly unending grief. Manda sort of swooped in and let me grieve while we went on random adventures.  She gave me space to experience joy even while my heart was bleeding all over. 

G: What is a fond memory that sicks in your mind, and why?  

Me: Late summer for years, a small group of some of my favourite people gathered for a weekend of canning in the backyard.  It's exhausting work, it's hot and tiresome. We would make playlists and share them, stories were told, there were dance breaks, poems, a campfire, and more than a few tears. Someone would show up with food. At the end of it we would each walk away with boxes filled with jars of salsa and ketchup, tomato sauce, and chili sauce.

from outerspace

It's the middle (beginning? End?) Of pandemic times. 

I'm feeling it all. 

Every emotion at the same time, and I think everyone is... but I want to scream and pout and all that just the same. 

I'm one of the "lucky" ones. I'm still an essential service. But every day is fucking scary. Today I set up a "donning and doffing station" for personal protective equipment (which for some reason my boss keeps locked in her office) for when the people I support get sick. It will eventually happen. I can't control everyone. 

I've really been doing ok. Overall. I mean, it's been such a long time since I wrote anything down,  I'm not sure where to start. 

This week has been hard. Waves of grief and longing. 

My last physical touch... human contact, a hug, was March 12th. 34 days ago.  That should be fine. But with the prospect of this dragging on for another couple of months, I just start blinking the tears every hour or so. Fine one second, soggy sleeves the next. 

I have housemates. I'm lucky in that I have a bit of interaction. 3 years into cohousing/cobuilding stress.

We're all dealing the best we can, and that means dealing.... the best we can. (No blame, I imagine I must be frustrating) 

I don't have a point. I don't have a fun twist to wrap this up with. 

I'm sad. I'm lonely. I'm tired. 

I hate people and I miss people. 

Drawing to a close

this one's a pointless ramble.

The past 14 years I've had Shelter Valley running in my blood.
Even that first year, though I couldn't be there (I had a wedding to sing at) it was all I could think about.

It has been the weirdest of adventures.
From being thrown a job with no details on how to do it- and pulling it off in a magnificent way, to being told "you're kind of young for this other position, you'll likely not take it seriously and will move or something, I think you should volunteer in some other way". 
ha.
I always did my best.
Except when I didn't... I mean, I'm human. I let deadlines slip like any other person.

The last 4 years have been exhausting.

2014, I bought a ticket for the festival I loved so much. I took a break from the work of building a festival. I watched from the sidelines and stepped in to moderate where I could.

2015 had me sick with stress, over the moon with excitement, second guessing everything I did, slightly star struck with the people I was meeting and interacting with, sweating with stress, head in the toilet with stress. More proud than I'd ever been before in something I had done. And heartbroken over the way it all happened. I remember opening the gate for the public to come in on festival day: music was playing, people were dancing, there were tears of joy from volunteers and ticket holders. I had to run behind a tent, I couldn't stop gagging.

2016, a year of growth and excitement.

2017 more heartbreak and stress.

2 more months and this festival chapter closes at the AGM and a community concert.

I hope the joy outweighs the stress when we look back.
I think it does.

What does community look like?
How does it shape you?
How do you shape it?

when I wrote

I'm blaming the day that I got rid of my flip phone.
On the fact that I don't take time to write anymore.Not just here, I even stopped journaling mid summer. It' just easier to stare at my smart phone and never record what's going on . Never think things through and process them.
Excuses excuses.

To say nothing of being homeless for the last year and a half.
Five beds.

Five different beds since I sold my house to take on this weirdo adventure known as life 2.0.
You can read about that here on the Ceeb. I signed something saying I wouldn't post my own story... being as they paid me for it.   (edit to add, holy crap- that article has been shared 1086 times????)

The February thaw has started and now I worry we're never finishing the house and OMG I just need to be settled somewhere and have something consistent, and need laundry to not be an issue, and I MISS MY DOGS.
Thank you hormones for this fresh burst of pity and tears.

Take a bow.

litteral

apparently I took that last message to myself to heart.

I still don't feel "bad".
But I do feel a sense of loss.
weird.


Back to writing again, this time with a pen and paper. Journals stacking up in storage.
All my life is in storage.
2 months till we start building the house. 

letters to me

I'm releasing myself from feeling guilty about how little I write here.

Instead, I'm just going to enjoy it when I can.

xo

Cabin Fever

In my day to day, my job is people. I'm paid to know what someone wants before they want it, to read their body language because their bodies have failed them and they don't have words to tell me what they need. I'm good at it.

No. Actually, I'm great at it.

In my down time I'm with people.

People I love. But I fall into the role of service with even my closest friends.
In my volunteer time, I give my last bits of energy to more people.

I am tired.

And there's no sunlight recharging me.

I retreat.

Under my duvet, curled on a couch, book in hand, sudoko at the ready.

I don't have cabin fever, tucked away in my tiny house in a tiny town where everyone knows everyone

instead I am feverish for a cabin.

Solitude.
Quiet.
Centered.
Snow falling.
Snowshoes.
Woodstove.
A stack of books.
A snoring dog.
A cup of tea.

Waiting for spring.

Sheesh

As time passes, you're supposed to get better at things, right? 

Nope. Not me.
As time passes I'm getting more and more awkward. 

First a super classy non-conversation with a man that resulted in crickets chirping and me finally conceding "it's never going to happen with this one"... mind you, I'm hard headed it's taken more than 3 strikes to reach this point.

Then today a near panic attack in forced conversations... because suddenly that's a thing???

*rolling my eyes at myself*
This too shall pass.

Thankfulness

This week's topic was a nod to American Thanksgiving.

I am thankful to have a home, a space to call my own. Somewhere to throw my laundry in the corner, a place to leave dishes in the sink.
Thankful for the ability to provide a space for friends to crash for a night, so long as I haven't started hoarding items in the spare bedroom.
I'm thankful that after a decade of landlords cranking or shutting off my heat, I can chose to keep the heat down low to "encourage" my dog to sleep on my feet and keep warm.
I'm thankful for the safety that my small town provides, that when someone broke a window on my property, one neighbour swept up the pieces with me and another repaired it while I was at work.
I'm thankful for the war going on between my neighbours each winter- who will wake up earliest after it's snowed and shovel our elderly neighbour's sidewalk first?
I'm thankful that when my home has been "broken into" (and it's happened a few times) it's been by people who have left me gifts- one who built me a shelving unit for the laundry room, and last night- one who left me a pizza.
I don't know how I'm so lucky, but I'm so very thankful for my little space on this earth.