Book Review - Wayward

Wayward by Blake Crouch
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

These books are just so much fun.

I marked this as currently reading a couple of days ago, but didn't start it until last night. And once again, after I had picked it up I was in it til the end, reading under the covers like I did as a ten-year-old and barely holding in my excitement during the climax of the book.

But this is very hard to review without barfing spoilers all over the place.

If you liked Pines, the first book in this trilogy, you'll like Wayward. If you like creepy, dark novels, you will love this. If you liked shows like Twin Peaks and the X files, or books like The Lottery (The Shirley Jackson one we all read in 8th grade, you know the one), then you will stay up late at night reading this book under the covers and gasping and squealing in all the right places.

It's just so much fun.

I thought I was burned out on dystopia when a recent read that was pretty well reviewed here and on Amazon just bored me and made me question my whole love of the genre. But I still love dystopia. I just love *good* dystopia. These characters are real and relatable and not all-powerful. They are human and flawed, even our hero isn't such an awesome guy. He's just an ordinary husband who makes mistakes and sometimes makes great triumphs.

The world-building here did have me question a couple of places. If they don't have furnaces, why do they have hot water heaters? If they have such limited stores, why are they using disposable styrofoam coffee cups? Things like that. They'd make me hesitate for a second, but not long enough to cost the book a star. If there had been much more of that, maybe. But I wasn't overly troubled.

As happens with the best dystopia, I wanted to be a part of everything. It drew me in that much. I'd probably die first, you know how that goes, but I wanted to be there to see it anyway.

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Book Review - Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things

Stuff: Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things by Randy O. Frost
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

First, let me explain that when I ordered this book from the library, I did so because we have a hoarder in our family that I was hoping to help, or at the very least, to understand better. By the time the book was shipped from another library and delivered into my hot little hands, that family member had been cut out of my life for other reasons.

I figured I would read the book anyway, since I enjoy hoarding TV shows in a rubbernecking-at-the-accident way, and thought this might be entertaining as well.

Yeah.... not so much.

This is sort of a memoir of a person who has both treated and studied hoarders for years. It includes stories of the people in his case studies, but it's much more sad and depressing than it is entertainment. Enlightening? Sure. But in a way that made both my heart and my head hurt.

This is less about horror stories and more about the significant mental illnesses that plague people who also suffer from hoarding disorders. It is academic, a bit dry in places, and a bit draggy in places. If you are interested in the psychological study of hoarding disorders, this is for you. If you are interested in different treatment approaches and how they fared among different patients, this is for you. If you are prepared for sad endings, stories of depressing childhoods, tales of abuse and neglect and marriages pulled apart, give this a go.

If you are looking for a fun horror story, a'la "Hoarding: Buried Alive" or "Hoarders" this is not the book you are looking for.

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Thank you, Universe, for...

Disney Movies

We saw this fabulous one this past weekend.  So Bloody Amazing.

I loved Disney movies as a kid - but as a grown-up most of the non-animated ones didn't thrill me much.  Til now.

Amazeballs.  Go see it.  Clooney is extraordinary in this.  I mean, I like the man in just about anything, but in this movie he shines.  The whole cast does, really.

Libraries

One of my favourite libraries in the Marigold system - out in Canmore, AB

I wouldn't be able to read nearly as much as I do if it weren't for libraries.  Books, Ebooks, Audiobooks, Movies - my resource for all my favourite forms of entertainment!  I don't understand, honestly, why more people aren't devoted to their library.

Everything Bagels

This one needs no explanation!






What are you grateful for today?

If it ain't broke, it will be...

This is a reality we expected when we talked about adding children to our lives.  We expected extra wear and tear on our possessions.

Aftermath of our fire

Now, we aren't all that locked up in possessions.  About five years ago, we lost everything we owned to a house fire.  We learned in those moments, watching our house burn, and afterwards, dealing with insurance and with starting over, what is truly meaningful in life.  And it isn't "stuff".  Not by a long shot.

What was left of the bed we slept in

Something like that teaches you to release your attachments to the physical.  You learn that people and relationships are the most important things in life.  You understand that everything physical is temporary, you can't take it with you, and you can't rely on it to save you, make you happy, or do anything more than serve a purpose to which other items might easily serve.

Stuff is just stuff.

And so, when people told us that our stuff would get destroyed, probably often, we were prepared for that.  We didn't really have a problem with it.\ But our expectations were skewed.

We knew the kind of "destruction" most kids create because we were kids, we have friends with kids, and hells bells, we spend a lot of time on the internet, where people regularly post the aftermath of their kids' household destruction.

Stuff like this:

We saw those parent's worst days, and thought yeah, we'll probably have a few of those, even if the kids we adopt aren't toddlers.

And they weren't.  They were five and six when they came into our home, mostly past what most parents would consider the worst ages of destructiveness.

Except stuff like in the above pictures?  That was our reality.

Not one bad day.

Not once every few months.

Sometimes every day.  Always at least three or four times a week.

And I was so tired.

I was tired of cleaning, and tired of having to throw away things that were often new.  I was tired of buying things for the boys and having them systematically destroyed the next day.  I was tired of washing the walls, because trying to get them to help do it made things even worse.  I was just so tired of over and over again having to explain why it was wrong to destroy things and never, ever having it stick.

I was sent a video by a friend where another parent of an RAD child (who also had to disrupt their adoption) likened this life to the movie Groundhog Day.  Every day is the same.  It doesn't matter how many times you tell them it's not okay to hit, it's not okay to steal, etc, it happens again and again and again.

But we've been accused of putting "stuff" before our kids when they hear me say that, and that's not what it's about.  It's not about the stuff, it's about the wanton destruction.  It's about the exhaustion.  It's about the fact that it was not changing nor was it likely to change, ever.  It's about being faced with that level of horror in your life being a part of the rest of your days.  It's about a level of emotional exhaustion you can't begin to imagine.

Or maybe you can...

I wish I could tell everyone who was so cruel to us when we disrupted to think back on their worst parenting day.  You know that day - the day everything has gone wrong, your kid screamed at you all day, destroyed things, hurt you, hurt others, hurt themselves.  I want them to think of that day, then imagine having that day almost every day.

Maybe then they would understand, a little better, what we went through.

3 x 3 Gratitude

Life is so full of things to be grateful for.  Maybe three things, three times a week isn't enough.  Or maybe it's just right - so that I'll never run out!

This little cuddle monkey:

Onyx joined our family this past summer, and I've truly never known a snugglier cat.  He can be rather demanding when he needs attention, and his preferred spot?  Right in my face.

But who can say no to someone that is that full of love?  Not me.

Then again, he makes me more grateful for oxygen when he makes it this hard to breathe!

Walking with these two:

There was a time when I didn't know if I'd ever get to do this again.  Such a simple thing, but I've had

my own close calls, health wise, and they affected my mobility.  But the freedom and ability to simply walk through my neighborhood come evening with those I love is such a blessing.

Playful, joyful love

My husband recently went away - just for one night - and brought this sweet balloon home for me the next day.  He predicted that I would squeal, and I didn't disappoint.

I love that our love is fun, playful and indulgent.  I love that we can be child like just for fun, and that we can enjoy the simple things.  And the fact that I can tell he is always thinking about me when he's away?  Completely priceless.




What are you grateful for today?  Are you remembering to look for the little things that make life joyful?

Book Review - The Eleventh Plague

The Eleventh Plague by Jeff Hirsch
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Maybe I'm just getting tired of reading so much apocalyptic and dystopian YA, but this one just didn't really do much for me. The best part was that the characters were well-developed and sympathetic. The worst was that they stretched my suspension of disbelief somewhat when a kid with no actual battle experience came up with the plan that saved the day and the whole town.

Yeah, okay.

By then I was pretty well committed to the book, and pushed through to the end, but I think it would have been a better read without the draggy epilogue. At that point I just kept wishing it was over.

I get that kids in YA books - particularly teens - are expected to be intelligent, efficient problem-solvers. I get that they are also supposed to be realistic teens. This book pushed a bit oddly on both those accounts. Either you are so shy and nervous you're afraid to play baseball, or you're so brave that you'll run straight into gunfire. I mean really? Just couldn't wrap my head around some of it. Bah. Maybe I'm turning into a grumpy old lady reader.

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I am so very grateful for...

Cherry Blossoms

My front tree is covered in blossoms right now.  Every time I leave the house and every time I come home, I am innundated with their beautiful fragrance.  Perfection in each delicate petal.

I can't help it; they fill me with joy on sight!  I'm thankful for them, for spring, for the husband who helped me plant this dwarf cherry five years ago, for everything about the experience of having them in my life.

Canada....

Only in Canada will you find yourself driving down the highway behind a guy with a hockey stick on his bike.  Seriously.  It's so Canadian I can't help but laugh, and be grateful that I live here to see such sights.

Driving With This Guy

He's the best. Road trips are the best.  Springtime in the car, next to him, music blasting, wind in my hair, it's all the best.








What are you grateful for today?

Book Review - Pines

Pines by Blake Crouch
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

What a fun, fast read. I couldn't put this down - it's weird and fascinating and intriguing and mysterious and kept me reading til 1 am when I finally finished it. Now I can't wait to start number two in the trilogy, and am already requesting book three from the library!

Special Agent Ethan Burke has been sent to Wayward Pines to discover what happened to two other Secret Service agents, who disappeared while on an investigation in the small, seemingly idyllic town. What he finds seems to defy expectation, and it looks like he is going to be the next agent who never gets to leave.

This book is creepy. Very creepy. It is also reminiscent of Twin Peaks, which the author acknowledges was an inspiration for his work. It's fun, and definitely an entertaining read.

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Book Review - Fledgling

Fledgling by Octavia E. Butler
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I've debated a bit on the rating of this particular book... more than I normally would. While I really enjoyed the writing, the style was clean and concise and the characters were interesting and relatable, and while I found the plot engaging, I just couldn't get past a certain squick over the idea of a character in the body of a ten year old having sex with adults.

But that's the creep factor inherent in a vampire book where someone who is 53 years old might inhabit the body of a ten year old. And it really got to me, here and there. I pushed through because I found the rest of the book so, so good, but oh god those parts really, really bothered me. Bothered me so much that at one point I felt so icky I had to go take a shower. I skipped later instances of it.

The tale begins with a young woman awakening with terrible injuries in the woods,and evolves into her own search to discover not only what happened to her, but who she is and where she comes from, as a traumatic head injury has left her with severe amnesia. The plot pays off - it's a cool mystery. But the sex? Ewwwwww.

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Thank you Universe, for...

Long Weekends

Spending an extra day sleeping in, vegging out watching TV and snuggling with my man?  Probably not everyone's idea of a perfect long weekend day, but we're still hibernating.  It was glorious.

George

He seriously has to be the sweetest furball on the planet.  He had to be on tranquilizers for a while
during our time with the boys and became skittish and anxious and the poor thing just peed whenever they startled him eventually.

But he's back to being a super-adorable, incredibly lovey, mellow cat.  He is so ridiculously affectionate and has the best, fuzzy and spotted belly that he loves rubbed.  Who could ask for more?

PVRs

What an amazing freaking invention.  I remember when we had to sit forever with the TV guide to program a VCR.  It was easier to just skip the dang show if you weren't going to be home.  Now we can spend a day after a trip watching whatever we want.








What are you grateful for today?

Gratitude

Traveling with my husband

I am so lucky that I get to travel sometimes with my husband to his conferences.  It leads me to fun places and adventures I never would get to experience otherwise.

This most recent trip has been to Edmonton, where we stayed at the Staybridge Inn and Suites - which I adore.  The people here are the nicest I've ever experienced in a hospitality environment since we stayed at the Aria in Vegas.  The hotel is beautiful and fun and quiet and lovely.  I feel so lucky to get to be on this trip, and just have the chance to relax in an incredible environment.

I guess this is a double gratitude - both for my trip and for the company my husband works for which allows me this opportunity to travel with him and experience these places and things.

Our fabulous petsitter

Anyone who knows me knows how very, very much my animals mean to me.  We used to bring Ivy -
our dog - with us whenever we travelled, but as she's gotten older she's been less interested in long car trips (and more interested in napping with her kitties on the sofa).  My cats, of course, are not fond at all of anything outside of their home turf!

We found a fantastic pet-sitting service, locally, and they are a life saver.  I'm so grateful to feel like my animals are safe and happy while we are gone.  (You can find our petsitting service here: Happy Returns).

Dude, it's spring!

While autumn is my favourite season, I can't help but love Spring almost as much.  The green everywhere, flowers starting to bloom, and fresh smell of ozone after spring rain is balm to a winter-hardened soul.






What are you grateful for today?

Book Review - The Scent of Rain and Lightning

The Scent of Rain and Lightning by Nancy Pickard
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I feel like this book deserved for me to like it a little bit more than this, but I just didn't.

The beginning of the book - and sporadically throughout - is overwritten. There is a lot of telling, rather than showing, and over-description that I found tedious. Now, I don't expect everyone to write like Hemmingway, certainly, as that's boring too, but there's a lot to be said for trimming some adjectives.

This novel follows a 20-year-old mystery. Who killed the parents of the little girl who became the center of a small town? Was it the man who has been whiling away his days in prison after enough other dastardly deeds that he deserved to be there anyway? Was it one of the members of the stalwart rich-rancher-family that the husband of the couple hailed from? Or someone else in close knit small town? Jody is determined to find out what happened, in particular, to her mother, whose body was never found and that need to know is jump-started by the man convicted of the crime returning to their small town after he is released due to issues with the trial.

The mystery itself is pretty solid and compelling. The characters, while sometimes suffering from stereotyping, are interesting and sympathetic enough. The setting is okay; Kansas flatland has never been a go-to type of setting for me, but alright. The writing is ok. And so, three stars seems just about fitting when I consider that I thought everything about the novel was pretty middle of the road. It's not bad. It's just not spectacular. I wouldn't seek out more books by the author.

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Lucky

Some might say that I've had some bad luck in my life.  Maybe a little bit more than most people.  When I watch things like footage of Nepal earthquake survivors I question that.  Instead, I think that I am actually quite remarkably lucky.

I've gotten out of practice, though, in practicing gratitude for that luck in my life.  After we lost our daughter, Grace, my grief counselor suggested that I use my creativity to mount an art journal project about the things that made my life beautiful.  It remains, to this day, one of my favourite things.  I still look back at it from time to time, when I need a little lift.

Since I have begun blogging again, I've struggled with what I should write about.  I haven't worked as a writer in almost two years now, so the original intent of this blog - to write about the world of writing - is hard to keep up.  And I have a feeling that the multitudes of book reviews aren't necessarily fun reading, especially if you also follow me on GoodReads!  So, my plan is to create a new place to practice gratitude, right in this space.  I'm challenging myself to articulate three things I am grateful for, at least three times per week, and I'd like to challenge you to join me on that path.

You don't have to post yours here - though I'd be honored if you chose to do so.  But I challenge you to think on it, to find the bright lights in your life, to seek out that which makes your days more beautiful and full of life and to acknowledge that.  Point out your lucky moments, your loved moments, your times when stars align - whether that moment is large or small.  Be open to finding joy in the ticking of an old clock or the scent of flowers and remember, just for a little while, how lucky you truly are.

My Friends

I am truly blessed with some of the most remarkable friends in the universe.  I am beyond grateful to have them in my life, and each and every one of them makes me smile and feel a tingle of warmth in my heart during every interaction.  During the hard times I have recently gone through, they have been there to listen, to surround me with friendship, to show up with wine and crafts, to get me out of the house for a coffee and a chat, to text me just to say hi and see if I'm doing okay.  They've answered the phone when I'm crying and can barely talk.  They have said "I don't know what I can do, but I am here," when being there was just what I needed.  They've offered unconditional support and love, even if they might not have understood what I was going through.  They have made me laugh, watched movies with me, kept my heart joyful and my face smiling.

Recently, some of them sent me flowers on Mother's Day, to remind me that I'm not alone.  They kept what might have been a hard time from being overwhelming.  All of them have helped keep me from drowning in their own way, and I am so, so thankful they are in my life.  I would not have made it through this, or much of life, without them.

I can't imagine where I would be without them.  Without a doubt, I am lucky to have them, and grateful for their presence in my life.

My Mom's Increase in Health

My mom was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis a number of years ago, and it was with great sadness that I watched her health and mobility decline as a result.  But I am so very, very proud of the fact that she has taken her health into her own hands and has begun getting healthy.  She works out regularly, has lost fifty pounds, and has had both knees replaces - by the way, she's doing so well in her post-surgery physical therapy that her PT said he can't believe her last surgery was so recent!.

I worry about my mom, especially since we live far enough apart that I can't be there to help her when she needs it.  But her own hard work makes my worry so much less, and I'm so happy that when we do get chances to spend time together now, she is much more mobile and able to do things (we recently went to the Mall of America - something a few years ago she never could have done!) and much, much happier and more relaxed.  I'm so grateful that she is doing better, and that her health means we will likely have many, many more years to spend together.

My Marriage

My husband isn't  last on my list - don't think there is a specific order here.  I love him beyond all measure.

And I nearly lost him.

We have never had a troubled marriage, not until the last year and a half or so.  The stress on both of us was so great that I often worried whether or not we would be able to make it to the other side of this storm.  He is, by far, the most important person in my life, and I'm not sure after so many years together, exactly where I end and he begins.  We are that intertwined.  But we also struggled, and had to work hard to put our relationship in a place of priority and to heal things between us.  We are not perfect, and neither is our marriage.  We are, however, mated for life, in both our estimations.  We believe we are soul mates, but even between soul mates a distance can grow.  Resentments can simmer.  Anger can fester like an infected wound.

It takes careful keeping to ensure that you are both taken care of as individuals and that your marriage, the piece that is the both of you as one, is taken care of as well.  Distances can be re-closed, wounds can heal, and romance can bloom again, and he has proven that to me time and again.  I love him with a depth that makes my chest ache, and I am so very, very grateful for his presence in my life and for the stability and safety of our marriage together.

What are you grateful for today?

When feeling good feels bad

After something awful happens, people will tell you to do things that make you feel better; read happy books, do things to keep your mind off of the tragedy, hang out with friends and so on.  I've been doing all of that, and it has made me feel much, much better.

Which somehow makes me feel worse.

I feel guilty when I'm happy, now.  I suffered from the same phenomenon after our daughter Grace passed away.  I would find myself feeling a tickle of joy in my heart and suddenly a great weight would slam down on my chest.  How dare I feel happy when such awful things have happened in the world?  I should be drowning in sorrow!  I should be tearing my hair and screaming and wailing, unable to get out of bed.  And while I did have those moments, too, I thought they should be happening all the time.  I should be punished for not feeling as awful as I should.

But why?

I talked to my therapist about this some.  He has been trying to convince me that I am no less deserving of joy than anyone else in the world, and that perhaps particularly because I have spent so much time feeling bad that I should spend extra time seeking out ways to feel good.  In fact, doing things I love and spending time with people I care about were some of the assignments he gave me for getting back to myself again.

And like a good girl, I did my homework.  But afterwards there was a niggling ache in me that told me I was doing the wrong thing.

I think part of the problem is society.  There is a behavior pattern that others expect us to have when we grieve and when we have experienced a loss.  People expect others to grieve in patterns that resonate with them, even though each person who has experienced a loss will experience it in their own way.  Some people bury their feelings, others sob uncontrollably.  Some people are ready to move forward with their lives after a day, some after a year, and some feel as though their lives remain stalled for the rest of their lives.  Why do we think everyone should behave the same?

And why do we judge and pressure those who work differently than we do?

I am aware, through careful introspection, that some of my fear and guilt about feeling better stems from the fact that I was judged harshly because of incidents that happened after my daughter passed.  My husband and I had arranged for her to be cremated, then asked for time before we were ready to plan a memorial.  My mother-in-law superseded our plans and had a memorial service with the family, burying my daughter in a cemetery with her own mother, and did not even notify us of the plans, let alone give us an option to attend.  I'm not sure what the rest of the family thought of our non-attendance, but from things they have said to me recently I suspect they thought we were simply callous and unfeeling and chose not to attend.  And I suspect that them throwing that into my face now, that judgement of me, is what is making me feel guilty now about spending any time doing anything that makes me happy.

The fact that they probably don't know the truth about what happened - that I had no idea what was going on and was so devastated I couldn't get out of bed in the morning, which was why I couldn't plan anything immediately - makes it easy for me to forgive them for the insults and horrible slurs they have thrown at me now.  I haven't tried to tell them the truth because their own perception is their reality; I don't believe they would care what the truth was.  They made their judgments a long time ago.  So why can't I forgive myself?

I hold myself to a much higher standard than I hold anyone else.  And my internal monitor tells me also that I shouldn't be having fun, shouldn't be enjoying my friends, shouldn't be laughing and creating art and travelling and living my life.  It tells me I don't deserve those things.

If it were a good friend going through this, I would tell them that they did deserve joy, and I'm trying to be kind to myself in that way.  I'm trying to remind myself that it's okay, that life goes on, that seeking joy doesn't diminish tragedy, but celebrates the fact that I am still alive, still strong, and still moving forward.

I am trying.

Book Review - Stumbling on Happiness

Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Everyone out there is seeking happiness. How do you find it? At the bottom of a self-help book? After decades of talk therapy to work out all your demons? Just by choosing happiness every day? There are so many theories out there about how we can achieve joy in our lives.

This book is not about that. This book is not a road map to finding happiness. It's about why we don't get there. It's about why we make the same mistakes over and over again that make us miserable. It's about how our brain tricks us into feeling emotions, and how we often aren't really sure how we are going to feel or how we did feel, even if we usually can iterate how we feel in the current moment.

It's about why everyone is so bad at finding happy, even if they spend their whole lives chasing it. And if you take all that to heart, you might be able to actually figure out how to get some happiness for yourself. There are an awful lot of psychological studies cited in this book, but the author does a good job of categorizing them and drawing overall conclusions from the varied results achieved over time in the area of happiness searching. I enjoyed the conversational writing style that turned what might be dry statistics in another style of presentation into humorous, interesting, thought-provoking information.

While I really enjoyed this book overall, I did find some sections slightly repetitive (this might be helpful for less careful readers but was annoying for me) and others a little draggy. I found it very helpful, though, and it inspired some really long, interesting discussions with my husband about our thoughts on happiness.

While I maintain my own theories about choosing happiness - and would call the "happiness" in the book more of a contentment or satisfaction with life - I think learning more about how the gray matter that rules my world works is always worthwhile.

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Book Review - Fracture

Fracture by Megan Miranda
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

What makes you human? What makes you, more than anything else, alive? Are you just a collection of neurons firing in the grey matter in your skull, or is it more than that?

Delaney sure hopes it is more than that, because after spending 11 minutes under the ice of a frozen lake, after spending 11 minutes dead, her brain doesn't fire the way it's supposed to. She should be in a vegetative state, but she's not. She should be dead, but she's not. With that said, is she really alive?

This was an interesting and very fast read. I liked the characters well enough, though from time to time was frustrated by the short-sightedness that stems from them being teenagers. I'm always aware that something along those lines is going to annoy me when I read a YA novel, but it never stops me from getting annoyed when it happens.

There was a fun little bonus in the back of the book - a chapter retold from the perspective of a different character. It was insightful and I really enjoyed it.

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Book Review - Stay Awake

Stay Awake by Dan Chaon
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Recently my friends told me I should be reading happy books right now. This is definitely not a happy book, but it made me feel better anyway.

This is a sad, creepy, sometimes scary, sometimes makes your skin crawl, sometimes makes you want to cry book. The characters are infinitely human and infinitely suffering and they make poor choices and handle things badly and tear themselves up with guilt and shame and I could totally relate.

Not everyone will like these stories. They aren't about happy endings or redemption or really even about characters learning lessons from their mistakes. They are just about bad stuff that happens and how humans handle it. Sometimes there isn't really even an "ending" to a story, and you're left wondering... and I was ok with that, because often that's how life works as well; there isn't a clear-cut end to things, as much as we like to chase closure as a society, and we have to wonder what ever happened to that friend of ours we had the argument with in a bar and never saw again. At least, I do.

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Inheiritance

One of the reasons, when I was thinking of the many reasons, that I wanted to have children, is because they are a kind of immortality.  Not genetically, though if we had chosen to have children in that manner, that is a truth.  I mean an immortality as that you live on in them.  Your mannerisms, your sayings, your truths, they will come from the mouths of your children just as I hear those from my family come from my mouth.  Things that you cherish - handmade objects, family photos, antique books - are treasured by them, and move through the ranks of family instead of landing in a trash bin somewhere.  You live in their memories, and later, generations that don't have memories of their own of you will know you from their stories.

That was what I thought.  And it seemed like a wonderful thing.

It wasn't the only reason I wanted children.  I was so happy in my life that I wanted to share that happiness with others.  I wanted to play with my children, do crafts and colour with them.  I wanted to see them learn and grow.  I wanted to watch them become adults one day and find their own happy lives.

But that bit of immortality, it was an important bit of it for me.  Not the most important, but up there.  Except, as the dissolution of the adoption placement took place, I went over in my head how many things that were important to me that my child with RAD destroyed.  How much of me he destroyed, and I realized that it doesn't quite work the way I thought it would.  Not always.  It was just as likely that my children would destroy the meaningful things in my life.  It was just as likely that they would reject my words and wisdom, that they would find items I cherish to be worthless.

And I realized that now has to be enough.  Today, this moment, has to be enough immortality for me; for any one of us.  There is no way to know whether a fire or a tsunami will take our things from us.  There is no way to know if our children will emulate us or revile us.  And honestly?  We have zero control over that outcome.  It doesn't matter how wonderful or terrible we are, the experiences and memories of others will be coloured by their own outlook.

What happens after you are gone is a coin toss.  It is just as likely that your children will discard your memories and mementos as to treasure them.  Does it really matter in the end?  You are gone.  Your purpose is over, and you served your place in the world as best as you could.  Once we are gone, we are forced to let go of all that is earthly, whether it is ephemeral memory or concrete treasures.  By letting go of our attachments to those things now, we free ourselves to experience them truly in the now, in the moment, instead of forcing a future on them that may never occur.

The Moments That Take Your Breath Away

My latest completed cross-stitch project contains a quote; "Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away."

I've had a lot of those moments in my life, but they have mostly stolen the breath from my lungs in heartbreak, sadness, devastation.  And then I woke up this morning and the birds were singing outside my window.  A fresh breeze was blowing.  My sweet animals were snuggled up to me, warm and soft and full of love.  I felt like I could breathe; it was startling because for the last year and a half most mornings found me waking in a panic.  What horrible thing had happened overnight or was about to happen now?  How would I possibly handle this day?

I think I am starting to find both peace in the decision we were forced to make and in life again.  Peace is something that has been sorely lacking in my life, and while I am sure that is true for pretty much all parents, even being able to carve out a few moments of it in the morning on waking was impossible for me.  The crushing weight of anxiety on my chest had become so much the norm for me that at first I had no idea how to handle it when it was gone.

I stitched this mostly at night, while I was sick, during February and March.  I had made a New Year's resolution this year to try to make time for the things that I used to love.  I hadn't been doing any crafting, almost no reading, no walking, not spending time with my husband, had neglected my friends to the point where they would have had the right to never speak to me again.  I was trying to find a way to recapture the happy person that I was, and at the same time was battling a bronchitis so serious that I couldn't do much most days other than curl up on the sofa.

I have always felt that, in some ways, needlework captures the mood you create it from.  Sometimes it's hope, with bright careful stitching.  Sometimes it's worry, with the stitches pulled tight and twisted.  This time it was sorrow, fear, anxiety... but I still think it's beautiful.  It's who I was when I stitched it, and I did find hope eventually.  And this morning I had a wondrous, breathtaking moment of peace, and perhaps that means there will be more to come.