"To heal is to touch with love that which we previously touched with fear" - Stephen Levine

Surviving 2020 - almost a whole year of physical, mental and emotional challenges/turmoil seemed huge. Little did the world know 2021 would throw its share of curveballs and uncertainty - making it as hard or harder than 2020 from a pandemic perspective.

I think the isolation and divisiveness has traumatized much of the world, and that doesn't even take into account the normal life challenges that would normally be mentally exhausting on their own.

When Emily was diagnosed in March with Type 1 diabetes after almost a week at Childrens, I started having anxiety attacks all day long shortly after we got home. My family would randomly find me laying on the floor with my legs up in the air (or against a wall) trying to breath through the racing heart and feeling like I was going to puke or pass out.

I've been on cipralex - an anti depressant used for anxiety - since after I completed my cancer treatment but was paralyzed with fear about re-occurrence. I'm such a lightweight when it comes to drugs that I only needed half a pill (5mg) to settle the anxiety. It now helps with my hot flashes from the hysterectomy.

When the all day panic attacks started after we got home from the hospital with Em's new diagnosis, the 5mg wasn't cutting it.  I had to up it to a full pill a day. That allowed me to function again and settled the panic attacks. 

I dropped back down to half a pill a month  later when it seemed like we had a better hold on things. Then Em hit a very rough patch emotionally as her new reality started to hit her of living with constant insulin injections every time she ate, I unraveled again. Some of my biggest fears as a parent left me once again laying on the floor, legs up, breathing through the anxiety.

It was made worse by my thinking all the stress would lead to a stroke (...and what would Phil do on his own? and what if he had a stroke and kids were orphaned? and...and...and...)

Talking to Andrea- one of the few people I opened up to - we decided maybe staying on the full pill for all the firsts of the first year of diagnosis might not be a bad idea. I could re-evaluate then. My amazing family doc agreed and was very supportive of whatever I wanted to do. Once we upped the dose, the panic attacks settled again.

Em found her way out of the darkness and is in a much better place with regards to her diagnosis. We started an insulin pump at the end of November and this disease is finally starting to feel like a part of our lives and not the main event. 

And then my Grandma died December 1. Her quality of life had been decreasing the last few months especially but she was the fiery, funny, matriarch of our family and honestly a world without out her seemed...not possible. My family lives out east, and every single trip back, there was always lots of visits with Grandma. I have never visited and not seen her. I think the first trip back will be hard.

There are some other things going on that have made me really hate 2021 but they are not things for me to share or talk about as they are not mine to share. I don't say this to be evasive, but just to say without Covid and all that has entailed, 2021 would have been one of the most challenging and heartbreaking years. Ever.

All this to say I think a lot of us are hurting or have been through tough things this year - silently. I know for me I feel like it's been hard for the whole world - how can I justify laying my burdens on anyone else?

It's made me turn into my family and made it very hard to see friends I desperately want to see. How do I answer the question "how have you been" without lying or sounding like "poor me" when I know their dealing with their own stuff?

I am scared of what will happen if I do go there. Tears this year have been few. Its just been easier to bury the hard feelings then deal with them.

And I guess that's why I felt the need to write this post. I don't want to go into 2022 - a year full of new beginnings - making the same unhealthy decisions. Now that we have a much better hold on the diabetes stuff, I want to "un pause" my life. Because that's how its felt the last year (maybe 2). Like its been paused - while I try to just keep my head above water (often unsuccessfully).

Maybe I haven't given myself enough grace for what we have had to adjust to, but I feel like now its time to grow again - not simply exist.

I want to be a better friend.
A better parent.
A better daughter.
A better Sister.
A better wife.

That list completely overwhelms me to be honest. So I'll take it one step at a time. I'll try to remember its ok to not get it perfect. To make mistakes. But I need to learn from them, and build from those lessons. 

They say you can't pour from an empty cup. The pandemic has made it easier than ever to eat unhealthy, not exercise and isolate from friends. Going through cancer taught me when I exercise and eat well, I feel good. Really good - and that motivates me to take on challenges.

So I'm starting with doing dry January. I've gained weight and have found eliminating booze is a good way to drop a few pounds even if nothing else changes. Since "dry January" is a thing, I won't be doing it alone...I'm hoping some friends will do it with me...

And I'm going to be more mindful of taking Steve for his daily walks. It's an easy way to get simple exercise and I'm more motivated to do it cause he needs his daily walks.

We can't know what 2022 holds, but I agree the mindset you go into something - in this case a new year - is important. 

So instead of taking on the world Jan 1, and getting so overwhelmed I quit, I'll take it one day at a time. I'll make a list of some of the things I want to tackle, and figure out a system to tackle them, in baby steps.

I'm going into 2022 not fiercely, but gently. And I hope that makes all the difference.

"The best advice I've ever received: No one else knows what they are doing either". - Charles Bukowski

It's amazing what a few hours of sleep can do. I got about 3 hours and woke when the nurse came in for bloodwork.

Em is perkier and squeamish about getting bloodwork - a good sign. She had been woken up every hour. She's not a fan of finger pokes, which they'd been doing pretty regularly since we got to Children's.

Breakfast comes and my wonderful girl says she will be ok for a few while I (literally speed walk) to get a mocha down the hall to bring back. We are on the 4th floor and its so handy having a coffee shop on the same floor! I go grab one (with extra whip!) and head back.

The doctors come in. They check on Em and start talking to me. Once Em is more stable, (her blood sugars that is) we'll meet her Endo team...

Who?!

It's the team that will follow her until she's 18. Dietitian, Endocrinologist, Nurses and Psychologist (social worker too if need be).

Jeeze she's got her own medical team! Guess diva runs in the family lol

The Doc's tell me there will be learning in the clinic and to have Phil come. 

Hooray he can join us!!!

We are still awaiting Emily's Covid test, so are still in isolation (she can't leave the room until it comes back negative). We don't have to wear masks while in her room - which is really nice.

Small victories, but I'll take them where I can get them. I feel almost manic - immense relief that I don't have to do this alone, and try to relay the info to Phil. I talk to Phil. He tells me he broke down last night when telling Ethan and Ethan cried too. So Ethan slept in my spot in our bed.

Not sure who was more of a comfort to who. My heart feels better that they have each other right now and me and Em do too.

I text the parents, call them and Em sleeps.

She eats a bit - no more nausea! Yay!

She has a TV too so we put it on as background noise but she's bagged still and sleeps. When she's awake she's so alert. My panic has subsided some.

I text my boss. I can't even think about work. He tells me not to worry, he'll keep the team updated. My whole world is in this room so I'm thankful for him taking care of that for me.

Phil arrives and relief floods through me. 

Shortly after the diabetes nurse comes in  to teach us She brings 2 pens that have  needles on the end. 

These are Em's pens. She'll need 4 shots a day - 2 of each kind.

Oh God.

We will give them to her.

Ug.

We can start practicing while in hospital so we'll be comfortable when we get home. She has a whole bag of stuff. She shows us how to open the insulin package, and add the vile to the pen, and how to prime the pen by clicking 2 units and pressing it out. She tells us we have to always confirm the dose with another pair of eyes. 

Oh God. We are gonna be responsible for shots? OMG there's a cloudy and a clear one - one is long acting, one is short acting but how will we know when to give which one?? They just seem to know. I know they are different, but there's no list...how will I know which to use when??

How do the nurses keep this all straight?

We are given a log book to keep track of her numbers and doses. OMG. So much to remember. What if we screw up? Her life is in our hands. 

There's ketone sticks that we have to check her urine when her blood sugar is over 14. The nurses have been making her pee after each finger poke because she's way over 14 still so that part I can remember. But everything else?

Why is this happening to Em? A few days ago our lives were just chugging along. Now its needles and 4 shots and carb counts.

Carb counting?! OMG

Everything...there's "free food?! How will we keep this all straight?

We got a big green binder.

SO. MUCH. INFO.

When the nurse is explaining the 4 shots, Em pales.

"4 shots?!" 

I see tears in her eyes. My heart hurts. Oh babygirl how I wish I could carry this for you...

By the time supper comes the nurse asks if we want to give Em her shot. We ask if we can watch. Finger poke first. They give us a kit for that too...finger poker (less hard than the hospital one - finer needle!) a glucose monitor and test strips. 

Em is not wanting anymore pokes. I can feel her stress rising.

We get the finger poke done (the nurse does) but now there's tears and she's adamantly refusing to get the insulin poke.

This is awful.

Will we have to hold her down when we are home? OMG I can't do that to her....but she'll get sick without insulin. We are in a no win situation.

The nurse convinces her to get it and its done! She made it look ok. Except for Em not wanting the poke...how are we going to get her to let us do that 4 times a day?!

Her dinner appetite is great - she finishes almost everything. What she doesn't eat they "replace" with juice. 

OMG so many things to learn. How did they know what to replace? With what?

Phil, Em, and I chat and when it comes to the bedtime shot, Phil volunteers to do it.

I watch in awe. I'm nervous. He looks calm. It's done!

Phil leaves and I crawl into bed with Em. We snuggle and watch TV and talk. Just us girls. Feels nice and safe laying here together. She's not tired.

It's almost midnight but she's spend most of the day asleep.

"Wanna go for a walk?" I ask her.

"Now mom?!"

"Ya, why not?"

So we get up, put slippers and shoes on and sneak out of her room like naughty children and walk around the unit. We get back, she lays down and very shortly is asleep.

I have a GREAT sleep on the daybed.

I think the first, albeit tiny, spark of hope was lit tonight. 

As long as we are together we'll get through this.

Blindsided on Some Idle Monday

Well 2.5 weeks ago our lives changed again!

Nope not cancer.

But my 11 year old daughter Emily got diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes...its not in the family, so it was a complete shock...

Let me start from the day our world was rocked..

Emily got 2 vaccines on Thursday afternoon at school  She then slept all weekend which didn't concern us too much because it was listed as a side effect. She had also been more tired about 2 weeks leading up to this point, and her appetite was off. I was starting to wonder if there may be an eating disorder - because how could she not be hungry almost all the time? 

Anyways so she slept basically all weekend. Sun around 11pm the vomiting started. Now I was wondering if it was a stomach bug, or could it be a reaction to the vaccine? Its been like 4 days so seems late but maybe...She and I are up all night and she is throwing up pretty much every hour and is insanely thirsty. She actually sneaks water in between, which she can't keep down.

Understandably she's exhausted the next morning. I take a day vacation from work because I'm so exhausted as well. Oh and Phil had all 4 wisdom teeth out on the previous Wednesday under general anesthetic so he's still on heavy pain meds and still recovering.

We finally get to the point that she's keeping pedialite down. I'm only letting her have a sip every 10 minutes. Then we graduate to 1 shot every 10 minutes. She's begging me for water but I don't want her to throw it up. I notice one time as she walks to the bathroom in her underwear and sports bra that she's lost weight. Like she's skinny - and not in a good way. Now I'm more worried about an eating disorder. Her face is pale and her eyes look sunken. She looks gaunt.

I'm super worried.

I decide I'll call our family doctor and get her in this week and go from there. If she suspects the same, we can go from there.

Around 1 pm or she goes in the bathroom and is in there a while. She's up to 2 shots of pedialite every 10 min and has had a few slices of banana to see if she can keep that down. So far so good. 

We have hopefully taken a turn for the better now!

Then I open the door to the bathroom, and she's sitting on the toilet (as a seat not going to bathroom) and looks kinda dazed.

"Em are you ok? Shall we go back to the recliner to sleep?"

"I can't. I just want to sleep. I feel like I'm gonna pass out..."

She crawls onto the bathroom carpet and closes her eyes.

I'm immediately concerned.

This is NOT normal. Something is very wrong.

"Em, is it time to go to the hospital?"

She nods.

Panic sets in. Do I call 911? I've been up all night - am I in any shape to drive? Phil is still on pain meds so shouldn't drive.  With Covid only 1 of us can go with her - what if she passes out in the car?

I call our friends Kyle and Aimee, panic slowly rising. Aimee is a paramedic so I ask her. I've been on hold for over 10 min with 811 and its telling me the wait time is longer than normal due to covid.

Aimee asks a bunch of questions then calmly reassures me she doesn't sound in imminent danger but yes she agrees Em should see a doctor. Likely at least severe dehydration, so she can get some fluids by IV.

I start to cry.

She talks calmly and assures me its ok to call 911 if I can't drive or don't feel comfortable driving. She looks up wait times for me and all the hospitals are over 2hrs but urgent care (10 min away) is only 30 minutes. I ask if it should be Children's - she again reassures me if Em needs to be transferred we can get an ambulance ride there from Urgent care. We decide on Urgent care to get her in ASAP.

Em needs Phil's help to get down the stairs - he's almost carrying her. My panic continues to rise.

We load the whole family into the car. We call parents, and ask Phil's to meet us at urgent care to get him and Ethan.

Em needs a wheelchair to go in because she doesn't have the strength to walk or wait in lines. I keep telling myself its all going to be ok, its just cause she needs fluids and was up all night.

My stomach is in knots.

There is a line up now. Apparently everyone decided they needed urgent care. I scan the crowd. No one else looks as bad as Em.

Its comforting and scary all at once - we should be seen quickly.

We get to the admin nurse and after bp, questions, she pauses, tells the other nurse to get a bed ready.

My stomach lurches.

I'm texting Phil, Andrea and the parents in a group string.

10 min later, we are called to the back. We are going into a covid isolation room because of the vomiting.

They immediately get her an IV. She barely responds. Em is terrified of needles. I'm even more worried from her lack of response.

They take blood, ask for urine sample when she can, poke her finger and hook up her IV with fluids.

Finally something to help!

Then the nurse starts asking about diabetes.

What?

No, its not in the family. Yes, she's been drinking more, but we are big water drinkers. hmm, ya there was fruity breath, but that was from her not brushing her teeth well enough with her braces...Well ya, she's been tired the last couple of weeks, but she's a tween so that's normal right?

Right??

The nurse pats my hand and says the doc will be with us shortly.

I text Phil.

Doc tells me they are gonna see what the bloodwork shows and go from there. She's dehydrated and the fluids will help

Ok. Makes sense. I text Phil.

An hour or so later the doc and nurse come to see me. Its maybe 9pm now. 

"So Emily will need to be transferred to the Children's"

Time stops. It cant be good if they are both here to tell me that?

"We can't confirm, but suspect that Emily is diabetic..."

My heart shatters and I burst into sobs. WHAT???

The nurse is patting me, Em is out of it and the doc is slowly talking but I'm not hearing any of it. 2 lovely paramedic ladies show up with kind eyes and speak slowly and reassuringly. We are going for an ambulance ride. Oh Em an ambulance ride! She sleeps on.

I text Phil. I don't want to be alone. He's at home with Ethan.

I HATE COVID.

He calls the parents to update them and has to explain what he can to a very scared Ethan.

I'm loaded up with Em in a snow storm into the ambulance in complete shock. I don't know much about diabetes.

But I do know since the pandemic we have been eating badly.

This is all my fault. She is paying the price because we got lazy?! 

OMG I'm the worst parent ever.

I ask the paramedic "we haven't been eating well. Did I do this to her?"

She looks at me, takes my hand and says "This is not your fault. This isn't about eating or foods or diet. It's genetics, viruses etc and not preventable."

Tears fall down my face. But I wonder if she is just trying to be kind. Isn't diabetes when you eat too many sweets? Bad food? Not enough good stuff? it's not in our family - I must have done something wrong. I must have been feeding her the wrong thing. The guilt fills my heart.

We get to the childrens and go into the ambulance bay. Its warm and dry. I follow Emily's stretcher with the paramedics. We stop as they transfer all the info to the nurse at Children's. 

I'm tired. And scared.

So scared.

We get into a small room. Em sleeps through all this except when they do conscious checks to make sure she knows where she is and who she is. they added insulin at Urgent care just before we left.

She looks a tiny bit better. Heart rate isn't as quick.  I try to lay down in the chair but I'm over tired now and my mind wont shut off. And the guilt.....

Docs come in, tell me she's in DKA (diabetic ketoacidosis) which is serious but not uncommon with kids who are first diagnosed. Her sugars were at 20 and normal range is 4-10 (holy shit - even if I don't know what that means exactly) She is Type 1 diabetic (tears) which is an autoimmune disorder where her own body has attacked the beta cells who produce insulin in her pancreas. She stopped producing insulin so now her body can't absorb the energy from any carbs she eats (insulin acts like a key) so her body started to burn the fat for energy and produced key tones in her blood which made her sick. the insulin is already helping, so that's kinda how they can confirm if its diabetes. 

Its not my fault they say - they still aren't sure what exactly causes it but ask about auto-immune diseases. They run in Phil's family so she may have been at higher risk and we didn't know.

Is it really not my fault?! Could that be true?!

I cry again.

They tell us we will be admitted shortly, likely for a few days. She has type 1 which means insulin dependent. She will need insulin for the rest of her life. 

OMG. What does that mean for her?

3AM we get brought up to a room that has a daybed for me! She gets a 2nd IV because her levels of potassium and phosphate are all out of whack too because of the DKA. She's now hooked up to like 5 IV bags.

She looks so small in that bed.

My heart is breaking but I can close my eyes for a few hours because they are checking her every hour. 

Thank God for Alberta Children's Hospital. We are safe here.

Choose Your Hard.

 Although my alcohol blog post that I just posted was from March 2020, its fitting it was posted now as I am currently doing Dry January. 

"But didnt you decide to give up alcohol until you were healed inside?!"

Ya, i drank in the last 8 months of pandemic chaos. I don't have it all figured out yet, especially about where alcohol fits in my life. But it was definitely more mindful drinking. And I'm proud of myself for not falling back into the really bad patterns - with everything going on in the world, it would have been so easy to do.

Were there some days I had more than necessary?

Yup.

And at the time I beat myself up and was not very kind to myself. But looking back, overall I think I did good...considering. 

But, I know I can do better.

So in 2021 I plan on building on my progress from 2020. It may not have been perfect progress - but there was definitely progress. And I think I need to acknowledge that - even if it wasn't huge. I know for myself it's so very easy to focus on what I could have/should have done instead. But I'm trying something new - I'm going to try to build myself up, instead of tearing myself down (this is actually very difficult for me - I'm my own worst critic). It's also so much easier to do hard things if you have accountability partners, and/or people doing it with you. So I have 3 people in my life who are doing dry January with me!

Isolating myself the last 8 months (longer actually) made things tougher than they needed to be. My 3 accountability partners are a connection. Maybe it's easier to start with connections that are mutually beneficial. We are supporting each other - it's not one way. So there's no guilt or fear of judgement since we are all trying to reach the same goal. And we all find parts of not drinking tough. 

Along with dry January, although cliche, I am determined to get back in shape. In order to be successful, I'm doing it in baby steps. And I'm putting a lot of thought into what has and hasn't worked in the past so I can set myself up for success. 

For example, by focusing on dry january as a part of getting back into shape instead of  as a punishment, it helps me to stay focused and motivated. It lessens the feeling of being deprived because I'm doing it to reach a goal that I will physically see and emotionally feel. It's been 10 days and I'm not finding it too hard so far to not have a beer.

As for getting in shape, I have many options. But aside from walking the dog and some hikes, I've been pretty sedentary. 

I've missed sweating. 

Well ok, maybe not the sweating part itself, but the way I feel after I've moved my body to the sweating point. I know starting will be tough and it won't feel so good (hence putting it off for sooooo long...). But once I push through the beginning, it gets better. A LOT better. Mentally, emotionally and of course physically. When I feel strong, I feel invincible...

I have not felt invincible in a long time.

Looking at pictures and seeing the weight I've gained is hard. Looking at pictures in the past (ironically through cancer treatment and after) when I was fit is harder knowing the work ahead of me. But as the saying goes, you need to chose your hard.

So I'm choosing running. 

Yes you read that right: running. 

Everyone who knows me knows I loathe to run. Well, running for "no reason" anyways...I played soccer most of my life and loved it. But I see running in soccer as with a point - ie trying to kick the ball into the net. Running for the sake of running is not really my idea of fun. I always laugh when I see a meme that says "if you see me running you'd better run too cause it means I'm being chased" - that's me to a tee. I've never been able to run on a treadmill and I watch people who use it to train in amazement! Just like the people who do marathons or the people who just run because they like it. 

However I will admit it's a good way to sweat in a shorter amount of time than lets say, cycling. When Phil and I go cycling, we are out for a few hours. Being lower on motivation to get started, shorter is definitely better! With the gyms being closed, and us being short on equipment, working out at home is also more challenging. I am currently looking at a few apps that i am going to try, but I didn't want to put off getting my body moving till I had it all sorted. Hence how I came to my decision to start off by running. No equipment needed, no schedules, and you can do it anywhere.

I have the app I used when I started to run while going through chemo. I always felt fabulous after - which says a lot. So I'm putting aside my dislike for my greater good lol. It's a couch to 5k type app called 'Get Running' that's very simple and walks you through each run (and it's free!).

The other reason I've chosen running is that I know I'll hate whatever I start with at the start...so if after I start to get in shape I ditch running, and stick to HIIT type workouts and cycling, it's no loss since I don't like to run anyways. As opposed to starting with riding on my bike trainer, and not enjoying it because it's harder at the beginning. Riding outside is so therapeutic so I don't want to be put off indoors.

And the other thing is that I find running hard. Its challenging and daunting to me. So when I finish a run, I am pumped and proud of myself. Which is helping with the whole "building myself up" mindset shift I'm aiming for.

10 days into 2021 and so far so good...

New Year, Same Me - I’m just going to love her better than ever! - Unknown

Jan 1, 2021

Leave it to me to take a leap with both feet and bare my soul less than a week before the world goes into full shutdown for a pandemic...

In March 2020 I wrote and published 2 blogs, and the third one (before this post) I wrote but didn't publish...next morning I got rear ended, ending up with a mild concussion and by the time I could look at a computer without turning green, we were in full lockdown. To be honest, how could I share my story of struggle when now the whole world was turned upside down? There was enough suffering to go around without adding my own to the mix.

At first for us not too much changed. It was like a cocoon being in lockdown - those first few weeks we enjoyed the slower pace of life. We even had a schedule for the kids and a points system for earning things like screen time or junk food (pinterest Mom anyone? Closest I've come ha)

But as anyone knows, 8 months is a long time to live apart. It seemed like on social media that people were doing ok. But I wasn't. The stuff that started me writing my blog again was still there - except now I had the perfect reason to pull away and to disconnect from friends. To hide the pain. We were all in this together, but I was sinking before Covid and I didn’t feel worthy to share that with anyone - after all everybody now had their own corona burdens.

But something amazing happened on New Years Eve. A few people told me they were struggling too - with some of the very same things I was struggling with! I think talking to each other may have been the first time we said anything to anyone (it was hard to do for me!) - and I could have cried with relief that these same people I pulled away from, still love me. That it's not just me - and whether their struggles started with Covid or it exacerbated them doesn't matter. We connected again, and it flipped a switch deep inside.

So today I woke up, and did another hard thing - I took our dog for a run! (I HATE running and have done very little for a LONG time exercise-wise) And I felt happy to sweat...and that I didn't drop dead ha. 

I did another hard thing today posting my previous blog on alcohol. 

The first day of a new year is a good day for hard things I guess 😉

“After all, alcohol is the only drug on earth you have to justify not taking.” ― Annie Grace, This Naked Mind

March 12, 2020

So…Alcohol.

Anyone who knows me, has known me, or has partied with me knows…I am a party girl. I can be a social butterfly. I like my booze. I like to get wild, get loud and have a good time.

However, I don’t drink every day. It doesn’t interfere with work. I don’t have a physical reaction when I don’t drink. I’ve never had my stomach pumped. And maybe that’s why I didn’t think it was an issue for so long. I had this preconceived idea that it had to be ‘extreme’ in order to be an issue in my life.

This part is hard – I didn’t think about what my kids were seeing. I didn’t think about Phil. What’s a few drinks on a Friday and Saturday night right? Society says that’s what you do to relax. You OWE it to yourself to have that nice cold beer after a long week where you worked hard.

Well, those few drinks started to become (alarmingly) many. It wasn’t 2 beers…its was 5. Or 7. Red Flag.

My tolerance went way up. When Phil would mention “do you really need another one?”. I’d get annoyed…mad even. Another red flag. We’d go camping. What goes together better than camping and drinking by the fire all day long, all weekend long? We’d actually run out of beer and have to go buy more. BIG red flag.

But I ignored that. The idea of no booze – terrifying. How will I relax? How will I have fun? Unconsciously, how could I avoid the pain bubbling under the surface if I couldn’t take the edge off?

I tried a couple of times to do 30 days no alcohol. I think I lasted 3 weeks each time. I could do no booze – but apparently only for a fixed amount of time. Then I’d pat myself on the back, assured that I ‘don’t have a problem’, and get right back to where I was before.

Booze has been part of my life since I was a teen. I can’t say if it was an issue in this same way before the last few years. Before my whole life was turned upside down with every cut of that knife to remove the cancer…then prevent cancer…then rebuild what cancer took from me. When I went through treatment I slid into a badass mindset and wholly embraced it. I tackled everything head on. I thought I did that equally for all the parts – chemo, rads and surgery. Maybe I ran out of steam. Maybe the non permanent parts were easier to tackle – hair grows back, radiated skin heals, cancer treatment ends. Cause I don’t think I tackled surgery in the same way. Any of the 3 surgeries.

Breasts do not grow back. Having them cut off is not an expected part of life. You don’t grow up thinking “one day when I have to have my breasts removed…”. I won’t lie – there was a novelty of having no breasts. It was kind of liberating. For a while. Then the novelty wore off. No prob though - I was having reconstruction right? That would fix everything! A boob job no less – who doesn’t think that’s a great thing? Except reconstruction is not a boob job. You don’t get nipples like you were born with with reconstruction. Those are gone forever. You can get tattoos, surgical creation of the nipple in looks only. You can get implants or cut off part of your body to stitch to your chest. But it is NOT the same thing as the breasts you knew and loved. My plastic surgeon once said “God makes breasts. I am not God. I make a reasonable facsimile of breasts. Under clothes, no one will ever know.” (Naked, it’s a different thing. At least for me. Maybe that’s where the image in the mirror first started to get distorted for me.)

And you know what? What they can do now for patients who get mastectomies is AMAZING. I am so so so very grateful to my plastic surgeon. Maybe that’s what makes it so hard. I’m so very grateful, and so very heartbroken all at the same time. I guess its not such a stretch that when I’d be happy and have a buzz from drinking, things didn’t quite seem so bad or matter so much. It’s easy to gloss over the sad feelings, while amplifying the good ones. But it’s not sustainable. Obviously or I wouldn’t be here!

So, how did I get past the 3 week limit of cutting out booze?

Well, as usual I did a lot of reading. AA didn’t seem like a good idea to me – I was already drowning in negative labels – it didn’t make sense for me to add another one ( and I am in no way knocking AA – I just didn’t feel like it was a good fit for me). Just pure willpower wasn’t going to work either – it never seemed to last past the 3 weeks right?

While researching, I came across a book called The 30 Day Alcohol Experiment, by Annie Grace. It seemed to speak right to me. The idea is to try 30 days without booze – but to look at it as an experiment about what life could be like - without booze. And she has a chapter a day for you to read. And she agrees about will power – her argument is will power is finite. Basically you only have so much. So you start using it to not drink a beer. But you are also using it to not eat that pizza. Oh and we need it to go to the gym that we don’t feel like going to. At some point, it’s going to run out. You only have so much, and the more you use it for, the less stronger it will be. That totally made sense to me. She does stress that this book should not be used in place of medical facilities for people who need to detox – if you are having physical detox reactions, you need help from doctors who can help you safely. What I love about her book is it’s not all or nothing. People who use her tools aren’t just people who cut it out completely. People use her book to reset and just reduce how much they drink. Or to become more mindful drinkers.

Anyways, her book was a huge help. I was esp. motivated this time too since I was committed to Phil and myself to figure things out before they got really bad.

So if you have tried some stuff, or haven’t found anything that has helped you, and you want to reduce (or eliminate) how much you drink, check out her book. They even have it at the library so you can try it without committing if you decide you hate it! She’s got a podcast too (This Naked Mind), if you wanna go that route and check out what she’s about first.

It wasn’t just the book though that helped. I also got some fakies. Non alcoholic beer (ya i know - but they actually aren't that bad). That was a HUGE help too. My favorite actually is Heineken or Coors (although I also like O'douls amber). I saw some Toolshed non alcoholic beers too at Sobeys but I haven’t tried those yet... We have also started to drink virgin Mules – Ginger beer (like ginger ale but spicier – spiciest one is at Super Store) and lime juice. SO good! Phil saying he wasn’t going to drink beer around me or have it in the house was important to. Days when it was harder cause I really, really felt like a beer were made easier by it not being in the fridge.

I have to say – I feel really good. In some ways it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. I like not having hangovers. I like getting up early and tackling the day with a clear head. I’ll talk about Rachel Hollis and her #Made For More group in another post, but she challenges women with “what if you didn’t break your promise to yourself this time”. So promising myself to stay away from booze till I healed, and actually holding up that end of the promises has made me feel like I can do hard things for myself. And that its just as important to do it for myself than anyone else (maybe more). It has allowed me to feel the pain come to the surface. That’s been uncomfortable. But I’m trying to sit with that uncomfortable feeling and be curious about it, instead of pushing it down cause its uncomfortable. Kinda like dipping a toe in the water before you jump in. Sitting with it without the comfort of beer (but without actively addressing it) has been prepping me for when I go talk to someone and it gets very uncomfortable.

We did go for dinner at a pub a few nights ago and we each had a beer. It was one beer, and a bit of a test, and I was so happy that in my mind I passed. I didn’t crave a second one. I didn’t down my beer before the food got there (I actually savored it and tried to be aware of drinking it instead of mindlessly drinking it) It was just so freaking nice to have a beer with my husband like a normal couple. I don’t plan on having another for a while, but I’m glad we did have one that night cause I think I needed to see if staying away from it for over a month prior had changed anything. I’m not ready to be drinking. Maybe I’ll decide to give it up for good. I don’t know – I'm not ready to make that decision right now. I need to work on the broken stuff inside before I even decide if it still has a place in my life. Otherwise it will likely just become a crutch again to help me not deal with the hard stuff.

And I have to deal with the hard stuff.

"...Tiptoe if you must, but take the step..." - Naeem Callaway

Well, I made the call.

And I either need to put my big girl panties on and suck it up. Or give myself some grace.

Maybe both.

Because I did not want to make that call. I've been avoiding it for oh...5 weeks or so (plus or minus a few years...). I couldn't even bring myself to actually call, but there was a messenger type chat option to book appointments so I took that route. Just asking me the general info and using the words "what can we help you with" and I could feel my back getting up. As I typed the words including  "self esteem", "body image", "breast cancer" I was cringing. (I'm cringing again now retyping it) I didn't mention it's been almost 6 years since I was diagnosed. Or that its been over 3 since my last surgery.

I asked if they have anyone who specializes in cancer survivors, which was a suggestion from a friend that reached out yesterday. They don't. The counselors are all general. Ug.

She finally typed back: so you are looking to talk to someone about self esteem and body image/breast cancer?

It felt ridiculous to be saying I need to talk to someone about my self esteem. Or breast cancer (like I haven't had so many conversations about that).

So I added "I've binge drank some to avoid dealing with this".

And as I looked at all those words sitting in the chat box, I wondered if my being was really reduced to those few words. I felt ashamed. I felt stupid. I felt overwhelmed. It was so much more complicated than those stupid words. It took everything in me not to type "nevermind" and close the chat box.

I wanted to cry.

Some part of me thought I'd probably feel better after making an appointment with a psychologist. 

But I didn't.

Yesterday after I posted my blog, I felt better. Just like a teeny, tiny weight was lifted off my shoulders. That regardless of of how bad of a friend I've been, how many times I've flaked and alienated myself, I still find myself surrounded by friends who forgive me and care. It was another step forward.

But after booking the appointment, I felt emotional. Like the box I've been trying so hard to keep closed opened ever so slightly. 

I didn't like it. 

It's one thing to say you're gonna do the hard things. It's another thing entirely to actually do them. 

And booking that appointment was so much harder than I thought it would be....

...But I booked it.

"Only in my pain did I find my will. Only in my chaos did I learn to be still. Only in my fear did I find my might. Only in my darkness did I see my light." - T.M.T

What do you see when you look in the mirror?

Do you see a sparkle in your eye? The wonderful curve of your hip? The power in your strong legs? The optimism, passion and joy radiating through your smile? Maybe even a shy sexiness you may not admit to anyone else out loud?

I used to see those things when I looked in the mirror.

When I went through cancer treatment, I added "warrior" to the list of what I saw in the mirror.

Somewhere along the way though, the image reflecting back at me started to become distorted.

The sparkle in my eye was dulled by the pain inside. The curve of my hip started to look too big. Those legs looked flabby and gross. That smile only seemed to highlight the plain, fat face looking back at me, and radiated only doubt and shame. And that shy sexiness was slowly replaced with self loathing.

It got hard to look in the mirror.

For someone who talks (and loves to talk) as much as I do, going to see someone to sort through my head space has never been an issue. Not so this time. I felt alone.

I have a huge, loyal friend circle. A wonderful, supportive hubby and equally supportive family. Two amazing kids. A good job. Beat the cancer odds.

What could I possibly be upset about?

So I pulled back. I binge drank. I smiled on the outside.

But I was dying on the inside.

Just over a month ago, Phil (my hubby) sat me down, and we had the first real heart to heart in while. He was concerned about the binge drinking (that was getting worse) but he knew something was very wrong inside. Maybe it was the way he approached it. Maybe I had hit my limit. Maybe it was the love and concern I saw in his eyes. But I finally opened up, and he held me while I cried the pain I had been trying (unsuccessfully) to hide.

We decided no more booze until my head was screwed back on straight. He agreed to not drink beer (cause honestly wine and hard stuff are not my jam) or have it in the house to support my decision to clear my head and let me sit with my pain and not try to numb it.

It's been over a month since that decision, and I'm feeling a lot better. I still haven't brought myself to pick up the phone and make an appointment to go talk to someone. Professionally.

Me, not wanting to talk?? This is NOT normal for me... (but I'll write a blog and put a spotlight on my darkest fears and insecurities for the world to see?? ya I know, I know, doesn't make rational sense but I've never really been a super logical person ha ha)

When I was writing this blog through my cancer treatment, it really helped me to process some of the really hard parts. I'm not sure if I stopped writing cause it got too hard, or if it got too hard so I stopped writing.

But here I am.

The insecure, dark part of me is terrified of putting this out there incase it's really only me and no one else can relate and everyone will just judge and laugh at me for being so dumb. Confirming my worst fears.

My logical side urged me to put this out there because I am definitely not the only person who can relate, is feeling this way, or has felt this way at some point. I discovered how therapeutic writing is for me. So I'm going with my instincts, and on International Women's Day, deciding to share my story as I do the hard things, and walk through my fire. 

A wise woman named Martha Krejci  said this weekend (at an amazing event I attended) that the fires we talk through in life (big challenges) become our Bat Signal to others with whom it resonates with. She also believes its our DUTY when we come out on the other side of the fire, to reach back in and pull the next person out.

So here I go, taking a (SCARY!) step into my fire and sending out my bat signal in doing so.

Maybe you're in a similar fire, and we can walk through it together.

I'm terrified. But I'm ready.

Today's the day I re-write the negative stories I've been telling myself into a story that empowers, excited and uplifts me every time I look in the mirror.

My Inner Ninja is waking back up.

“In order to rise from its own ashes, a phoenix first must burn.” ― Octavia E. Butler, Parable of the Talents

Dec 9, 2015

I have to admit when I finally got my appointment date with Dr Kristensen, the gynecologist who would talk to me about having an ooferectomy, I was really disappointed. My appointment was for the end of March. March 20. I got my genetic results at the beginning of Oct. That means almost 6 months from when I got my genetics results, to when I would just talk to the doctor. When the genetics counsellor mentioned that the last woman got the surgery within 3 months of being at the genetics clinic,  I was kind expecting to get in to talk to the gynecologist within a month. Not 6.

When I went through all the tests to get diagnosed, then was diagnosed with canser, everything happened fast. I received top notch care. I felt like my life mattered to all who were involved on the medical team. I realize having cancer is something that requires urgent attention. But an appointment about preventing a canser that I have an almost 50% lifetime risk of , 6 months out, was like a punch in the gut. It made me feel like now that it was genetic, and that it only affects a small percentage of people, I didn’t matter. That my life didn’t matter.

It was a terrible feeling.  

“Genetic” cansers tend to be more aggressive, harder to treat as well as occur at an earlier age than “non-genetic” cansers of the same kind. The key is prevention, or at the very least, catching them (very) early in order to have a better chance at survival. It made me wonder how many gynecological surgeons we have in the province, and how much money goes into the hereditary canser “sector”.   I still hadn’t heard from the GI clinic about pancreatic screening either. I felt like a pest every few weeks calling the genetics counselling to see if they had heard from the GI clinic. But one thing I’ve learnt is you are ultimately responsible for your own health and you can get lost in the shuffle, so I kept at it, even if I was feeling frustrated with each call that didn’t result in an appointment.

From the time I had received the crushing genetic testing results, I started looking for others with BRCA1 mutations to turn to to discuss all the stuff that inevitably would come up as I processed the info. I found a few BRCA1 groups on Facebook. I joined a couple. I noticed in many of the groups there are a lot of previvors. What that means is they are people who carry the gene, but have not had canser – although they are at a high risk for breast canser as well as the others I have mentioned in prior blogs. They still have decisions to make, but as a preventative measure.  I honestly found it a bit hard to relate sometimes… Or maybe I just wondered how could they relate to me when, although I carry a mutation,  I also have scars and baggage from going through canser treatment, which is something they have not been through. We are making similar decisions about our future and our health, but our paths to get to those decisions are very different. So are the things that need to be taken into consideration – like radiation with regards to reconstruction. And the “flashbacks” that future surgeries can evoke from going through canser treatment. Or having to decide if/when to get a mastectomy when you are young and never had canser (although having the gene puts you at high risk – talking 80%- it doesn’t mean you WILL get breast canser – so the decision is ultimately left up to the individual). I am in no way saying one is harder or easier than the other – but in some ways its totally different. It bummed me out cause sharing and knowing others feel similar – that it’s not just me – is how I’ve gotten through so many scary things in the last couple years. And now I was mostly just reading what was posted cause I didn’t feel like some of what I was feeling was relatable to the rest of the women in the group…I felt like maybe it was just me. It also felt like my group of “canser peeps” who “got what I was going through” shrunk infinitely smaller. Which made me feel very alone.

This turmoil in my mind was not helped by my avoidance of the gym at work. My self-esteem was again at an all-time low, and I couldn’t bear the thought of going to the gym with colleagues who might look, or wonder, or talk about me and my freakish body. I’m sure not exercising made things worse. From July when I went back to work, till Christmas,  was probably the hardest 6 months emotionally since finishing treatment.

Its only in looking back that I realize it was completely understandable. I was adjusting to going back to work. I was adjusting to being more tired. I lost friends and my dog to a disease I hate with all my soul. And I didn’t have the benefit of riding with my One Aim team now that winter was here. Or exercising. And I was too tired and stressed to meet up with my canser girls…I was lacking many of the supports that up till this point had gotten me through the rough patches (I still did have Phil, my family and girlfriends, without which I would have for sure been in an even worse place)

After talking to Phil, my Mom, Andrea and Dr. Taylor,  I bought a gym pass for the new year (yes at my work gym – I decided I should face those insecurities head on...which included a new gym outfit ha). I called Kelly for a meet up. And I planned a One Aim Christmas party so I could see my beloved teammates.

Those were some of the best decisions I could have made, cause they ultimately led to a complete shift in my way of thinking, and best of all, in my way of viewing myself physically. Which was kind of funny timing with the New Year on the horizon…

“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” – Albert Schweitzer

Dec 5, 2015

I’ve been blessed to have such love and support in my life…in those first few weeks when my friends and family and I were trying to wrap our heads around what “triple negative breast canser”  meant, and next steps, and all the (terrifying) tests required, Kelly came into my life.

She came in as a bright light of hope, throwing me a lifeline that helped to keep my head above water and we clung to each other during one of the scariest times of our life. We texted all day long most days going through treatment – esp. while going through chemo together. I finally had someone who really understood what I was feeling. Someone who had the same fears. Someone who made me feel not alone – a priceless gift when going through something so terrifying. Someone who could talk me down and who I could in turn talk down when our fears got the better of us. We each took turns being the rock…and being the emotional mess.

Kelly played a huge role in getting me through those days. Or hours. Or sometimes moments when I was paralysed with fear.

Navigating life after breast canser is tricky. It is often downright scary. Although we don’t talk as much as we did then, she continues to be my lifeline. The road after treatment has been more difficult in some ways than going through treatment was. It’s been almost a year since treatment ended, over 1.5 years since I was diagnosed, and still there are days, hours, and moments that I struggle to get through.

Kelly is by no means my only “canser” support – I’ve met so many amazing people on this road. I met a class full of women through BCSCF that are strong, vibrant, amazing women. I’m part of the Rethink closed Facebook group for young Canadian women who are going through or been through breast canser. They have all been great for a larger network of support. But sadly, not everyone’s story turns out with a happy ending. Some of these very women who have lent support and/or advice have their cancer return. The dreaded “mets” (meaning their original breast canser, has metastasised elsewhere in the body and is now incurable…also known as terminal.) I don’t think I’ve met anyone in the canser world who isn’t apprehensive of the canser returning. It’s a fear/anxiety sadly you just need to figure out how to handle. I’m told it gets easier with time.

However, when someone in the group gets mets – it’s a huge trigger. Suddenly every twitch I feel might be canser lurking…headaches are brain mets. Pain on my chest must be bone mets to my ribcage. Soreness, pain or aches between my ribs and pelvic bone must be some kind of ovary/kidney/liver mets. With my BRCA 1 status, I worry about new cansers like ovarian and pancreatic. I know it must sound laughable. Delusional even. But it’s actually really scary when this happens. The physical “symptoms” trigger my mind to go to very dark places -I look at my kids and wonder if I’ll see them grow up. Get married. Hold my grand kids. Many of the women in Rethink are young moms. Many of them too had been declared “canser free” before discovering it back and spread. They are not so different from me. I know people don’t want to hear about this side of the coin, and I’m not trying to scare anyone but its part and parcel of my life after breast canser. I just don’t talk about it.

Except to Kelly.

Hearing the heart wrenching stories also causes “survival” guilt. I don’t wonder “why me” so much as “why not me”? That also sounds ludicrous even to my own ears, but some of these moms have kids younger than mine. It’s so unfair. canser really doesn’t discriminate. I don’t talk about this either, cause I’m not sure everyone would understand.

Except Kelly.

And of course there’s the very worst thing…death.

People die. Young, vibrant moms with little babies die. They are full of life and “fight” and are “pinked out”, and they still die. This is the very worst trigger. My heart grieves every loss. The ones I don’t know well, I still grieve. The ones I come to love and care about take part of my heart with them when they are gone. It’s the very worst thing about my new friends and support. Not everyone makes it. I have not been the same since losing Sarah. I see updates on her kids and family and my heart breaks all over again every time I hear about the struggles they continue to face since her loss. I see my own kids. My own husband. My own family and friends. I don’t ever want to be the cause of such grief to the people I love most.

In times when we lose a “sister”, or someone gets mets, that’s usually when Kelly and I meet up. We chat. And then my heart is a little less burdened. We grieve together. We talk out our fears. We try to put logic and perspective to something that makes no sense. It doesn’t change it but it makes it more bearable. Maybe it’s cause somehow this allows us to share the load.

And that’s not to say any of my friends or family have been any less supportive. It’s not more or less, it’s just different.

I guess what I’m trying to say is without Kelly I fear I would have sunk into the abyss a long time ago. She is my constant in a world that is constantly changing. She came into my life and has been an anchor amidst the storm.

My mom has my back. She is behind me, pushing me forward, supporting me in ways that only a mother can.

Phil is my protector. My cheerleader. As we navigate this unknown path together, he is by my side, holding my hand.

As for Kelly? She has my other hand.

And for that I'm forever grateful.

Happy Birthday Luvy

Nov 30, 2015 

What is love?

Love is helping someone up every time they fall, without complaint, and without being asked.

Love is looking at someone with that same twinkle in their eye as when you first met. Even when their body is so changed it’s unrecognizable to them in the mirror.

Love is coming to all the scary appointments while holding your hand, whispering words of encouragement, and then making sure the best beer or wine is awaiting us when we get home.

Love is wrapping your arms around someone as they cry over lost loved ones.

Love is coming home with a pair of melons to make you laugh when you feel like crying.

Love is being a cheerleader 365 days a year.

Love is always having the time to talk.

Love is accepting whatever curveballs life throws our way, then sharing the load of coming up with a plan to tackle the issue, or manage the information.

Love is taking you on a bike ride on a random weekday cause they know your soul needs it. (even knowing you might get mad cause it’s a harder route than they admit!!)

Love is soothing hurts, calming fears and making sure laughter is never far away.

Love is making someone feel like they’ve got company on a path they must walk alone.

Thank you Luvy for sticking with me for another year, helping me to slay my demons, never losing faith in me, and showing me every day what love is.

Happy Birthday xox

Emergency Appendectomy...(not mine!) ...and all that entails...

Nov 29, 2015

Before I could feel too sorry for myself, Andrea – Phil’s sister and one of my closest friends – ended up in the hospital…She needed an emergency appendectomy for an almost burst appendix…It all happened so fast – Phil ended up sleeping at their house with the boys the night she went to get her pain checked out, and then brought them to our house in the morning, where they stayed for the weekend. Andrea ended up having to stay in hospital for 5 days. We are a pretty open family. When I went through treatment, it wasn’t only my kids who suffered. Unlike my kids who had no pre-conceived notions of canser, my nephews knew a kid from their school who died from a brain tumour. They were well aware canser can kill when their mom told them Aunty had breast canser. I think it was hard on them in a different way than it was for my kids.

Remembering how worried my own kids were about when I was last in hospital we tried to keep them as distracted as we could, while making sure they spoke with Andrea and Mike and visited her in hospital. Kaedyn seemed ok but Ryder, my younger nephew, was pretty quiet. We took them to the Christmas market to see the reindeers and all the crafts and music etc. And they all slept in Ethan’s room – 2 in the bunk and 2 on a mattress underneath. I’m not sure how much sleep they actually got but they sure seemed to enjoy it! It was nice to be able to do something for someone else for once…and me not have to be the sick one. My self pity melted away for a few weeks as we tried to help out.

I’m happy to say my nephews weathered Andrea’s hospital stay really well. They were worried of course, but still were able to have a good weekend. Ryder was a more animated after the 2nd time of visiting Andrea when she was more perked up and feeling a little more comfortable.

Later my kids admitted to me they wondered if she would die when she was in hospital. I guess that’s the sad reality they live in – their first experience with sickness was a pretty intense one so now they brace themselves for anything else that has to do with hospitals and doctors, assuming the worst. We quickly got rid of that notion and explained that most of the time when people get sick, the doctors can help and people get better. But I think time is the only thing that will reassure them that what we told them was in fact true. We were almost a year since I was done treatment, and still the kids were being affected by what we went through as a family. (for those who think the impact of canser ends when treatment does, I can tell you differently. So could my kids and my nephews.)

Anyways, thankfully Andrea made a full recovery.

And admidst all this craziness, Phil’s birthday was upon us…

A little moutain healing like only the Rockies can offer

Nov 19, 2015

Losing an animal is a difficult thing to adjust to. Sometimes you don’t realize just how ingrained they are in your everyday routines, and it makes their absence all the more noticeable. Or at least that’s how it was for us. Every time I get home and open the door I expect a furry face to greet me. I am surprised every time there’s not.  Odd things make me cry when I’m least expecting it. The first week was really awful. I didn’t want to be in the house any more than I had to be.

So it was a true gift that months before we won a weekend away at the gorgeous Emerald Lake in B.C. We had won the 2 night stay at the CanSuffer Spin fundraiser in February. It was donated by a fellow teammate – Gordon – who told us “it’s the most romantic place”. We had booked it in September for this weekend, at a time when we thought Daisy would at least make it to Christmas. Now the weekend away was a welcome distraction for us, as was the kids’ planned sleepovers at the grandparents. We’d be out of our house of Daisy reminders, amongst the mountains and trees for a weekend of healing.

I honestly couldn’t leave soon enough on Friday (but had to wait until Phil finished work), and naturally it started to snow on our drive out. By the time we got to the BC/Alberta border in the mountains, some of the highways north and southwest were closed due to bad weather. Our way was still open but the road conditions worsened as we got closer to the resort (and actually the road we took closed a few hours after we had drove through). They got lots of snow earlier in the day, and the roads were icy. I was glad we had decided to take Phil’s truck.

Like my trip the weekend before with the girls, I could feel myself start to relax, even with the inclement weather, as we left the city further behind and drove the highway into nature. The smell was amazing – there’s just something about pine trees and mountain air. The snow made it incredibly romantic. There was already quite an accumulation on the ground but as we drove up to the parking lot, it was snowing just enough to make it look like a movie. It was absolutely beautiful.

At Emerald Lake you park your car a few kilometres down the road from the resort. A bus takes you to your room. I was grinning like an idiot as we boarded the bus with our luggage. The grin just got wider as we saw the gorgeous lake as we crossed the little bridge onto the resort property. It’s really amazing – no cars are allowed so you walk everywhere. It’s like a little pedestrian village. Like something out of a story book. I knew I would love it there before we even set foot in our room.

In our room, which was overlooking the lake, there was no TV and a huge, wood burning fireplace with as much wood as you like! We had a little balcony with a couple of chairs, which happened to be half buried in snow, but we pretty much left the door open anytime we were in the room with the fireplace on. The fresh air mixed in with the burning fire was intoxicating.

I can honestly say it was one of the most relaxing getaways we have ever taken. It was a weekend of doing very little except breathing in the amazing air, snapping pics of the gorgeous scenery, going into the outdoor hot tub and hiking around the lake. Oh and eating their delicious food and drinking ha. On Saturday afternoon after our hike we just hung out in the room reading! I can’t remember the last time we just sat and read! If you are looking for a relaxing, amazing weekend, I would highly recommend Emerald Lake. It’s not cheap, but it is now on our radar for future weekend getaways cause it is SO worth it. There were some kids there, but I would recommend it for a nice adult getaway.

So thank you Gordon for donating such an amazing prize for the CanSuffer event – it was so perfect I can’t even tell you. It started our healing process from a hard month full of loss. It was like for one weekend we were in another world – a reprieve from the grief and pain, surrounded by breath taking beauty in a peaceful, soothing environment.

Because of spending a weekend in that setting, coming home was a little easier. The sharp edged pain we felt leaving the house a few days earlier was now a dull ache. It still hurt, of course, but it was a little more manageable (although the silence was still deafening upon our return...) I think a weekend with their grandparents helped the kids reset a bit too. There were still tears in the following weeks – and heartbreaking conversations at bedtime from missing Daisy – but I think as a family there was a shift in our grief and we were now able to start to process it.

I really believe in times of pain and turmoil you need to follow your gut as to what your heart needs. For us, it always seems to be the mountains that call us. Whatever it is, do what your gut says – it will be different for everyone – but for us it has never led us astray and we always feel in a better frame of mind to handle whatever it is that is on our plate. So I say if it means packing up the family and going camping – do that. If it means a family sleep over in the living room, do that. If it means a quiet walk or some meditation or yoga, do that. 

Time waits for no one, I know, but sometimes I think slowing down when you’re hurting can do the soul a world of good…

….and wine….wine helps too…