Water & Dust

Is it the pull of the moon that’s got us out of sort? The round being in the dark that waxes and wanes through the month and pulls the tides like covers over the bed of mud. It would make sense that we too feel this pull and it takes our emotions on a roller coaster. That our energy is high and low, translucent and agile and murky and slow like the waves and the ocean floor. The contrast between the two and the crashing on the shore. It would make sense that the moon be held responsible for the weight of the world crashing on our shoulders.

Is it the grey, the ever holding cloud cover that’s been lingering longer than it’s welcome.  The cool breezes blowing away the long awaited warmth that comes with the blooming green.  The green that glows like neon when the sun is finally high in the sky.  The hug that consumes us when you’re travelling outside by foot or by car and the green and the blooms are just all around.

I’m not sure what the mess is made of but the fog feels thick and the tired is deep within my marrow in a way that I can’t completely explain.  It is all just lingering. Not letting in the letting go and the moving on.  The sun and the rain are in a steady two step between shine and pour and the journey they’ve taken us on over the last month is really itching the souls of those who need the sun for that soul sipping vitamin d and reassurance that even rainy seasons come to end. But when there is no end to the rain, how can you be sure that the end eventually comes?

The little bits of chaos are cocooning around me. I’m in need of finding a flow that rolls along the rocky bits in smooth sweet reassurance instead flailing like a salmon upstream by some inherit rhythm that must happen.

I know this morning was another show that this isn’t working. I need to find space for me in the me too. Instead of the  too busy, too loud, too crazy, too disorganized, too, too, too. But little me. Scrambling for breakfast, flipping for patience, brewing a mess of unorganized chaos.   That’s not working.  So, is it the moon? That’s got my mind all hashed up and cracked. Or is it my soul that needs to be soothed in a way I’ve not yet found. The me, I matter.  Whether it be the moon or the grey, grasping at straws is not adding to the editing of the rocks.

We’re mostly water, we come from it, we grow with it, we search for it. It seeps from us in times of heat, and times of sorrow. We’re water and dust. Dust and drops of the ocean. It would only make sense that moon would too pull us along like a curtain in the stage play. Directing us this way and that. Folding our energy as we unravel the riptide.

Yes, it must be the moon, and the cocktail of the grey numbing us in the moment and than leaving us raw to feel the magnetic synergy they together create.

Learn & Lean

I’ve seen something circulating lately that says something like “if you see someone struggling don’t tell them to reach out, or tell them you’re there for them, just help, just show up, do something “. It really resonated with me.

As deep as my roots it goes back generations to be fiercely independent. A family of problem solvers and do it yourselfers and fixer uppers. Much to the frustration of my father (the one who is responsible for my inheritance, sorry dad) my husband and most other people in my life this trait means I’m most likely to take the hard way, tricky way, the do it myself way. I’m not likely to reach out. It’s very much the reason why I struggle with the weight of anxiety and depression nearly 2 years before reaching out for help. I found ways to manage, to make my way through.

I’ve learned since having children some times you have to lean in a little. I eat my own words because I’m forever telling my friends to do just this, but I’m terrible at it. Leaning in a little gives you just enough room to take a deep breath, re center and go back at the non stop life that is being a mom. A micro manager. Learning to lean means learning to expose a certain sense of vulnerability which I’ve never been good at. Once I attempted to go to a psychic and she even told me she couldn’t really read me because I shut myself off. I’ve spent years building walls and I’ve been spending years breaking them down. But I’ve learned to lean in ways I still feel secure and I can feel as if I’m not bothering anyone.

I’ve worked on communication, self awareness and self limiting beliefs to allow myself the space to lighten the load. It’s an arduous journey but I continue to march forward. So when this meme or quote starting circling I really liked it. When I’ve said to you what I’ve needed, what I’m feeling in my soul is missing even in a passing way it’s taken great courage and a lot of work to do so. If I’ve said these things and they don’t come received I find it frustrating. If you’ve offered something and don’t follow through the person isn’t going to have a solid foundation to lean in. If a person has leaned in and been left to sway in the wind the chances are they’re not going to lean in. It takes a lot for some people to lean and so for a lot of people they won’t lean in. Don’t expect a healing person to muster the energy to come to you and ask if what they need is evident. Even if they really want it they can’t always find the air to breath the request. If something or someone is important to you do them a solid and meet them where they are. Do the things you know they need, help them in ways they’ve asked for help. If you’ve offered your time, space, energy, assistance, whatever it may be then follow through. Make your offer authentic, I can guarantee you a person who is faltering will not come back to the person that has offered to help and ask for that help. They will walk away discouraged and disappointed for exposing their vulnerability and being met with unmet promises. They’ll lean not to lean in to you, they’ll withdrawl to find their own strength, yet again. If you wait for them to come to you, or you watch them struggle waiting for them to ask when they’ve identified their needs they’re not going to accept your help. Accepting help from someone who waits until you ask or waits to see you struggle is a place where you expectations feel unmet and resentment festers and once it does it takes a lot to reel it in. Add in the other mental load the person carries, other struggles they have, the lists they carry they aren’t too likely to see that person as a solid in their circle. If I need your help, if I’ve communicated what I need, even once I will not ask you to help me again. Unfortunately Leaning in isn’t easy for me, if I lean in and I’m left to solidify my stumble I’ll just do it myself.

Expectation is the root of most evil and when you’ve come to expect the least from the ones who you need it from the most you’ll gradually start to trim away the people who aren’t really there to lift you higher. If not, you should. The people who love you the most are the ones who are supposed to have your back to your face and behind your back. If that’s not the kind of circle you have, how can you make more room in your foundation for people that will be your bottom hands. As Dr. Jody says the rest don’t score. Lean in. Find the faults in your grounding and build the best of you. Lean in, check on your strong friends, check on that friend who’s always smoothing the wrinkles for everyone else. Hold the hand of the fixers and the doers. They may not know they need you. They may not know how to set their load down and allow someone else to carry. We’ve stepped so far away from community as a society that we often forget that it is not our job to leave others hanging in the balance. We’re tapped in and plugged in but we are more disconnected than we’ve ever been before.  Reach out, lean in, learn to be vulnerable, learn to crack open someone else’s vulnerability. Say what you mean and mean what you say.

Wading in the deep end

Wading beside my husband I notice he’s edging further and further from the shore. I follow in eager pursuit. He leaves home every day, he carries very little mental load. He’s successful, hard working, the definition of grit. I want to join him. He’s much taller then me. I decide to match him stride for stride. Then he stops, he turns to shore. But I can’t. I’m screaming at him to help me, I scream at him how I cannot do it all on my own. I’m flailing with red hot anger. I’m cursing the ground he walks on. And effortlessly he walks to shore. He nonchalantly says “just put your feet down, you’re fine”. But I cannot put my feet down. I am not fine. I flail and flail until my body decides it’s had enough. I become buoyant, one with the water. Complacent in the very thing I fought against. Nothing matters. It’s all good. I cannot move from this spot. I cannot stop my mind from racing to resentment. I cannot get back to shore. But I do not care. So my husband drags me in again, with the rope that’s carefully tied to my feet for moments like this. We speak nothing of it. We go home. The day is done.
The next day I see my best friend. I come to her seeking refuge. From the weight that’s hanging over me from yesterday. My mind won’t stop hashing it over and over. She’s got 4 kids, an ex husband and a new husband. She’ll understand it. She’ll see that something is aloof and she’ll set me straight. She starts talking about her new husband. She starts really giving me the gears about how awful he is, lazy and under appreciative. I sigh a sense of relief. Misery loves company, I decide now is the time to finally let go of the weight from yesterday. I pour my heart out. She won’t tell me to put my feet down, she’ll be empathetic and understand the water is over my head. I let it all out. I dump out my deepest worry. This is the person who loves me and has stood by me always. Surely she’ll understand and we can move forward. She says “you’re so negative, I’m going to have to smudge this place when you leave. You’re clumsy and bad joo joo”. Then she laughs it off and continues talking about her self. Oblivious to the fact that she’s walking the talk she just set me ablaze for. I tell her I have to go. I walk out. Ready go home. But the words racing in my head become spewing hurricanes of how terrible I am, how stupid I was to think someone would actually agree with me. How crazy I am. Maybe I have lost my mind.
My husband takes me back to the water. Hell bent on living our normal life. Not phased by the protest in my voice. The hesitation. The bags I have packed and ready to run. Except today is different. I wade a little further and it becomes harder for him to pull me to shore because of the weight I carry from the conversation from the previous day. My head becomes a swirling whirlpool. Yet I still become stagnant with exhaustion. I’m buoyant but I’m weighted. Before my weight finally anchors the wind sweeps me further from shore.
And in and out and in and out. Day over and over again we do this. Toxic people, worried mind, well meaning family, deep water, stronger wind, more weight. Fraying lines that connect me to reality. The voice that confidently boomed for help becomes silent. Everything hurts. So tired. So worried. So careless, so over thinking. Over. And over. And over.
Until one day, so far away from shore now that blowing away has become “normal”. A boat sails by. Aboard is the images of the things that matter most. You see, I’ve never wanted to drown, I just wanted to be far enough from shore that my family would stop seeking me to rescue. But seeing this boat makes me realize I’m not the only one who is suffering there’s so much left at the picnic that I need to be a part of. In a hoarse voice, a frail spirit I say. “Enough”
Of course saying enough isn’t enough. I’ve carried this weight for a while. I ask the man on the boat for help. He carefully cuts the weighted words that keep me docked so far from shore. I can feel my mind start to shift. It’s still racing, but without the weight there is less worry that I might completely drown. Without the careless mind I realize I’ve known how to swim all along. The same as time took me away from shore I know it’ll take time to swim back in but slowly I make my way there. Some days I feel as if perhaps I’m always going to be treading water, I can see the shore but can’t quite reach.
I continue to cut the ties that tear the line connecting me to those who love me most. I ditch the toxic friends, I fuel my body with all the proper foods. I prioritize sleep. Instead of getting lost in my head I search and yearn for positive health. I’ve even begun holding my husbands hand at the waters edge. I no longer feel the heavy chains that used to surround me and squeeze out all my air. I no longer fear the disorganization. I have strategies to help me when I feel as if the water is just too deep. But everything that got me here has made a mess of everything that came before. Some days the mess sends me far from shore, some days the mess doesn’t matter. I’m focused. I’m working through the quick sand. Until one day the sand is like flakes of the dessert and I realize I really feel like me. Really, really feel like me. I find joy in joyous moments again. I feel thankful, appreciative. My heart has grown by 5 sizes. I’ve over come the storm, the darkness, the turning tide, the tsunami.
I’ve over overcome. Does this mean I’ll never face the storm again. No, but I’ve got tools and tricks and all the right people who will pull me to shore.
In 2015, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. My daughter was almost 2 years old and I had been suffering for much of those two years. I pulled myself further and further away from my family. Never did I feel I wanted to die but I wanted to be far enough away I would no longer be a burden. I was angry, easily agitated. Exhausted. Worried about everything but not caring about anything. It was a chore to get out of bed, to eat. To function. I did not seek help. I did not understand why I always felt the way I did. I was too scared to admit that I was failing because I didn’t want to lose my daughter. I didn’t know what would happen to me if I admitted that I was not perfect. Until one clear day, my mind worked well enough to realize that I was really missing out on so much. I made an appointment with my doctor and I finally said “This dark cloud is bigger then me, and I’m ready to dance in the rain”. I was put on a low dose of an anti anxiety medication. Sent a referral to mental health and started walking forward. Dancing my way out of the storm. I’ve seen naturopaths, to help with things that were out of balance that could be contributing. I go to a chiropractor,for acupuncture and a massage therapist on a regular basis. They’re all huge things that make a difference in my overall well being. If you’re reading this and thinking my husband sounds awful, please don’t. My husband only ever wanted what was best for me. He stood beside me and stands beside me every day. He may not have known how to fix it for me. He knew me well enough to know I’m headstrong and fiercely independent saying anything wouldn’t have been any help. And I’m sure he probably did try to tell me, I probably was not ready to listen. As hard as those two years were for me, I’m sure they were just as hard for him. It’s been a journey. I really hope everyone finds someone to love them when they’re at their lowest darkest moment like the people I’ve been blessed to have and keep in my circle. The best part of the storm? It blew away all friends who were toxic and selfish and not really friends at all. Life has been so much better.
In the last 3 years as I’ve been overcoming and finding wellness there’s been really good days and really crappy days. There’s been a lot of days where I’ve dealt with acceptance of the change in who I am. Gone is the crazy, outgoing, up for Anything girl. It was hard but I was sure the person in pictures of the past would always remain unrecognizable to me. But, she’s not anymore. I’ve found something I’m passionate about and mixed it with my previous career to start a fire of excitement and happiness within my soul. Running my own business teaching and working with children I have fun every day love learning more and more. I’ve allowed myself grace and time. I finally can look at pictures and say that girl is me!
Mental illness does not discriminate. It is not something that can be paid off or bought away. It catches you in its grip and it tosses you out for the sharks. It doesn’t mean you’ll never be the person you once were. It just means you may be a different version. I’ve been wide open about my struggles since I started walking toward wellness. I’ll continue to get up on my soap box and preach. Let’s not shy away from the messy conversations that are hard and heavy. Let’s talk.

Worldly Possessions

I am a mama. That’s basically the thing I identify myself as these days. First and foremost I am a mama. I’m also a wife, sister, daughter, friend and childcare provider among other things. The thing that consumes my being, my waking, sleeping, breathing hours is mama. There is my oldest Quinn and my youngest Cooper. I’m also expecting a third girl this fall to add to the spice in this mix.
Cooper never lets me forget I am mama. She spends most of her day calling for me even when I’m sitting beside her. Reaching for me if I walk away from arms length and finding me no matter where I try to hide. That’s the thing with being mama, it doesn’t take a moments pause. Even when you really need it. I am her whole world. That’s heavy. Her whole world weighs on my shoulders. Honestly, it’s been a bit too much to carry the last little while. That is until this past weekend when I finally decided I needed to take time to be alone.
Alone I sat in reflection. Reflecting on choices, chances, patience, love. Taking time to replenish my cup so I’m able to give the best of me back to these littles who love me as their whole world. Reflecting on this summer and the changes that are coming our way. That’s when it hit me. Changes.
Quinn goes to school this fall. We have four weeks left where it’s going to be her and I at home. Then she won’t be here daily anymore. Of course I’ve said how exciting this change is and how we’re both going to be needing this break apart and it’s true. Time spent apart is great. But in four weeks her world explodes. She meets teachers, friends, classmates. She will no longer just be mine. I will share her with this world she’s so determined to master and become a part of. For four more weeks I am her world and then I no longer wear that spotlight and that is heavy. Beautiful and exhilarating, but heavy. Thinking of this change makes me realize how lucky I am to be the world to these humans. Even when it all becomes too much it is a job not to be taken lightly. They’re learning and leaning and trying and experiencing through my lead. No pressure. It can be easy to be consumed with guilt at the thought of slip ups and mishaps. Short fuses and sharp words sometimes happen. We’re all human. We all need to take the time to reflect. Lean in to the universe and let it hold us weightless while we think about who we are in this whole big world. If you wear this title of mama, let me tell you, we all see you. All the other mamas around, we see you. Loving and learning and growing this tiny humans while all the while growing and learning to love yourself and understand who you are in this role. Give yourself the grace to breath and bend. Give yourself the space to be real and fall and breath if you need to. You’ve only got so long before the world opens up and the weight you wear readjusts and becomes just a little lighter. We’re all in the same shoes as you not sure what we’re doing but sure we are screwing it up. I’m here to tell you, you’re not. The best person to love your littles is you. You know the way they like their toast, the snack they need right before bed, how they like their hair to fall on their head. All of those little finite details, you mama, you’re the only one who knows them inside and out. These sweet things, they’re your worldly possessions. Take the time to refill your cup and appreciate who you are. You’re so much more than the weight you carry. Thank yourself mama, for all you do every single day.

Waltz

Another from my old blog of random writing
She dances with the devil, across the hardwood floor, their waltz creates a heat like I’ve never felt before. Her shoes are made of leather and they keep time to the beat, legend has it if you’re not careful she’ll hypnotize you with her feet. And they’re spinning round, round and round, while the fiddle goes faster and the banjo picks up it sound, round and round they go never slowing down. The Devil he wears a smile, it’s frozen on his face, as he leads her on the dance floor I can feel my heart begin to race. I’m hot under the collar, my hands they start to sweat, I can feel the heat taking over, all cards on the table, I’m folding all my bets. The one two of their toes creates a thunder, and their waltz creates the wind, it’s the perfect storm to get swept in to and before you know it you’re never seen again. If you see her dancing with the devil, if you see that smile upon his face, you better run like hell my friend, run like hell and never make a mention of this place.

Provider, Parent, Partner

Recently while scrolling through IG stories one of the amazing ladies that I follow was looking for someone to write about some things that most women face during the postpartum period.
Dr. Gillian Sawyer is working on a 12 days of motherhood post that she does each year over on her IG stories. If you’re not following her you should be, she shares the real side of motherhood and has been a saving grace as I enter this period of being a new again mama. Gillian was looking for someone to write about postpartum body image and/or what the changes of parenthood have had on your relationships.
The latter stuck out to me as I’ve struggled with the change with all three of my girls. The transition with Quinn was probably the most difficult because she was my first and in 2013 it still wasn’t as common place to talk about the messy bits. As a new mom I knew to be prepared for the scary thoughts but I didn’t know how many other issues bubble up when you become a new mom. The truth is much like an animal shedding it’s skin when you become a mother you shed an entire layer of who you are to become someone totally new and in some ways different and that transition can feel raw and vulnerable. with vulnerability comes a whole new slew of emotions and feelings.
Let me get started with the fact that I love my husband huge amounts. He has the softest heart and the hardest work ethic of anyone I know. He’s been with the same company since they started close to 10 years ago and he is immensely passionate and dedicated about what he does. It’s really admirable. That being said when you’re a new mama it can feel so heavy, so deep, so all consuming and extremely isolating. Your partner to some degree will also go through their own changes and transformation but their role doesn’t change as drastically as a woman’s. As a woman you’re also dealing with your birth experience; whether it went as planned or not, you’re dealing with healing; having a baby is a lot like being in a car accident it takes time to heal, you’re dealing with hormones, you’re dealing with no sleep, breastfeeding or bottle feeding struggles, you’re dealing with new body image, you’re dealing with finding your new rhythm, you may be dealing with postpartum depression, anxiety or rage As new mama’s it can feel like a lot. A lot of those things you’re dealing with aren’t things they talk about and discuss in baby books. They aren’t things you can prepare for and most likely aren’t prepared for.
This can feel extremely isolating especially as your partner seems to bounce back and go back to normal life oblivious to the fact you’re feeling so overwhelmed, not seeming to care at all that everything for you is changing. Let me start by most often, they have no clue because they are not and never will experience the swift change that the postpartum experience is for mama’s. Even if your husband is a fantastic partner before baby comes along it can seem as if he totally slacks off once there’s someone new in the mix. What I’ve come to realize is that being a provider, parent and partner are three different things that don’t always go hand in hand. Your husband is most likely working and therefore feeling as if he’s being a partner by providing for his family. In my experience this type of partner is great but when you’re in the trenches deep in the thick of it it’s not enough. For a long time I felt as if we were on totally two different pages. During this change with my first I seriously considered leaving. I felt that alone and just assumed he knew. He didn’t because he didn’t know the depths that come with motherhood.
Before Quinn came along it was fine that he worked a lot and I could manage most everything else at home on my own. I could do things to fill my cup when I needed. I had time. With a new baby I felt like all I was doing was giving and feeling completely burnt out on the brink of resentment and that is a scary place. I’d never had to ask for what I needed and my pride tried to tell me I didn’t need help but mama’s you are so important, you matter, you need the help. Unmet expectations can be a real cause of heartache. Often with expectations they’re more about us and less about the people around us because those around us are often ignorant to what we expect from them. This was very much the case. I just expected him to know what I needed and to know to pick up the slack. I had to learn to be very specific with what I needed and to ask for help or time or to have him plan something out of the blue so I didn’t feel as if I was deciding everything and everything was on me.
Motherhood and parenthood is not only ours to carry as women and we need to remember that our partners can carry some of that for us. I’ve spoken to my husband about the difference between the three and how it’s important to make space for all three in order to create a sense of balance in our home. Sometimes I need him to change the garbage without me asking, and sometimes I just need him to keep the kids quiet for an extra hour on Saturday morning and a lot of the time I need him to be my partner and remind me to take time for myself or plan nights out without me having to think about them.
Communication and grace I’ve learned is key with the change that takes place in your relationship. Realistically you’re adding a new human to the mix and this new human is all dependent on you. It’s important to give yourself grace to allow things to go as unexpected for a bit and to give yourself grace to iron out the flood that comes with it. This too shall pass it isn’t always going to feel this all consuming forever. They do grow and you will get your space and time back. Time flies. Communication has been the essential piece in my post partum experience to ensuring that I can enjoy the time I do have while they are snuggly and little. Take time to breath in your partner loving on your little because this time will change all too soon. Allow him the space to love them and juggle a little bit of the challenge with you. This is not all yours to carry. I can promise you that it won’t feel as if you’ve lost each other forever, you’ll learn new ways to fall in love differently but all over again, again and again. If you’re feeling like he just doesn’t get you he likely doesn’t but that doesn’t mean he’s meaning to. If you open your heart and allow yourself to be just a little vulnerable he may be able to better understand and meet you closer to the middle. Learn to lean in and let go. dishes can wait, laundry can wait, the house won’t fall to pieces if it’s not perfect for a period. They’re only so little for so long.

Rest Repeat

There’s no beauty in the burnout. I’ve said it before. There’s nothing that comes positively from pushing yourself beyond your limits. So listen. Listen to the inner voice that tells you it’s time to take a break. There’s something noble in acknowledging that you’re human and need time to breath refresh and refill. This can come from taking a step back from work, taking time to yourself on a personal level, saying no to volunteer roles for a bit or just simple taking time to pause. For me I get caught up in feeling like I have to do it all to be good enough. As if I need to prove that I’m invincible to someone (this someone does not exist). I feel because my role is a stay at home mom that I should be able to manage my children all of the time and micro manage all of the things that go in to running a home. I excel with daily tasks in regards to my job;activities, learning and playing through experience but often forgetting to take time to myself in the evening to reflect and recharge. Recently my sister in law said to me , you know it’s ok to need a break, to take time to yourself. It was exactly what I needed to hear. For whatever reason feeling as if I really just needed room to breath had me feeling this massive feeling of guilt. I’m a mom, shouldn’t I be able to do it all and not take a respite? No, because at the end of the day I am still human. I love my job and the children I work with a huge amount but I’m still a human who needs time to turn off even if only for a few moments. At the end of the day I’m a mom to two beautiful littles and my job doesn’t ever end. It’s important to carve out time to hit reset and start again.
What is something you’ve been hyper focusing on and perhaps could take a simple step back from? Try to carve that time for yourself consistently for a week or so and see if you feel better off and able to deal with things throw at you.
I’ve got a quote on my wall that says if doing and being of service to everyone else is doing yourself a disservice than you are not able to serve anyone. It’s so true. It comes around tenfold. If by doing for someone else consistently leaves you feeling less than what you came with then how much of a service are you actually doing for that person? When we feel as if someone is emptying our bucket and under appreciating our effort we start to feel negatively toward them whether intentionally or unintentionally. These feelings stick to us like glue as negative feelings do. when they do they make it easier for more negative thoughts to become attached to us. Like attracts like. You have to consciously make the effort to change your thought process and to shake off the negative magnet. You need to make an effort to think of yourself when you’re serving other people. It does not mean you’re selfish, it means that you’re better able to be selfless. If doing service for someone else is negatively impacting your being than you’re not doing anyone a service.
Accepting who we are is a lifelong process it comes down to stripping off layers we were raised with and putting on layers we gain. It’s also important to remember and accept that doing it all does not mean everything is better done. Rest, repeat and pick up where you left off.

Elizabeth Fairfax

The rain is pounding down sideways as I dodge pot holes on my way home from another overtime shift at the hospital. One of the rare places to find employment left in this town. I’m lucky to be one of the few people that stuck around. I often work my job and the job of 2-3 others depending on the week and will for other people to stay put in a place they call home.
Me, Elizabeth Majorie Fairfax, ever the wanderer stayed here in this end of the mill town. The girl who grew up at 342 Broad-Bay Way. Who swore up and down as soon as high school finished I’d be out of here. Here I am. Still living by the bay. On the other side of the tracks. The wrong side of the tracks. Take a left at the mill and drive until you cannot drive any further and you’ll find me there. A run down 3 story relic, remnants of the boom and the bust. Passed down from generation to generation of mill workers and captains children who built this town. Who watched it burn, and never left.
You’d never guess it now but at one point surrounded by ramshackle low income housing my great-great grandfather built this home, a Captains home as close to the sea as he could. It’s been a running joke that he would have built it directly in the ocean had his wife not of put her foot down. She loved the sailor, hated the sea, and so in spite of her marrying the captain she made sure her Widow’s Peak graced over views of the tracks and the town. This way she’d never have to look and long for her husband to come home. She’d look at the boom they built by hulling lumber from across the bay to here, to the mill.
The derelict mill is in worse shape than this house these days. The town wide fire that nearly wiped half the towns people out could be to blame for that. Little money returned to this town when it lost its glory. No money to rebuild here. The wealthy crossed the bay and saved the shipping building further in land where help could be more easy accessed should tragedy ever befall them again. The people that remained were the ones who oiled and greased the bearings of the town. The folk with tattered clothes and the warm woollen blankets on their beds because they couldn’t afford heat. It’s generations of these common folk who remained. From nothing builds nothing and eventually the town became stagnant.
Stale air still surrounds these streets. Of course with time technology has made this town run smooth again. there’s a bridge that connects us to across the bay now. The connection that’s made comings and goings easier. We’re more of a passage to things beyond and things below. It’s these busy highways that run through that really keep any town here at all.
I cursed this place as a teenager. Begged my family to leave behind what wasn’t any more. I wanted big city lights, tall sky scrapers and opportunities. When you reach for those with an address of Broad Bay Way you get many a reply of “oh kid little broadway Bay ain’t got nothing going for it”. An old joke, as this used to be the fancy for it all place. It’s not easy to swallow my eye roll after the hundredth time I’ve heard it. My family stuck true to their roots though and we remained. I rebelled and bought myself a car and got out of this place in grade 10 commuting every day an hour each way to high school on the outskirts of the big city. An honour student with big dreams and high grades I really could have skipped town right after high school.
But as the moon pulls the tide and the beach awaits its waves there was something they pulled me in like quick sand. I continued to commute to a tiny community college to obtain a course in continuing care. I always said I’d get my nurses degree some day but I’m still waiting on that day to come.
Student debt kept me close to home. Climbing the creaking staircase to a the outlook at the top of the maids corridors. I read magazines of faraway places and plan my trips. I’ve even gone on a few, taken a month or two off work. It’s this run down house that keeps me here. No mortgage keeps me tied to the place where I don’t need to rob Peter to pay Paul. I long for wide open spaces and endless sunsets and sunrises with strangers by my side. But I know for me that’ll never happen.
My mother had my youngest sibling the year the mill really stopped making money. 7 in a family with 5 boys, she had my sister the last year the mill was still making money. She never had a chance to return to work. She idolized her families story and wrapped herself up in thinking glory would return. They say it was a mix of post-partum depression with the birth of a new baby and the drink that eventually led her to lose her marbles.
I was 15 the oldest of the bunch when her face became hollow and her words never really made sense anymore. Vivacious and ruthless my mother was a shark amongst men. In a world where woman didn’t yet belong she rose to the type with no help from her name and she was a force to be reckoned with. Breakfast on the table for each of us, lunches lined up by the door, and she was off to work before the sun came up. She was the first to arrive at the mill and the last to leave. She ran this house the way she ran her shifts meticulous and organized. You’d never know she wasn’t home all day to keep us in line.
I think it was October. An Indian summer when father realized we were losing her. My sister was just two, and the mill was talking of shutting down for the winter. First winter shut down my mother experienced. She knew, and we knew they that mill was in the midst of meeting demise. She got the notice on a Friday and by the following Friday the dishes were piled in the sink, 4 lunches packed and the baby was walking around with sagging drawers. Too much weight carried for far too long. My father took sick leave in November to help her but by then she was gone. Rocking in the parlour to static in the radio with CBC on the tv cranked up so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think. We’d never see the mother we knew again.
As the eldest, I raised and watched and worried over my siblings. My father tried to keep up with all of the comings and going’s but of course he couldn’t juggle it like our mother. I resented these duties, I resented my father and I hated my mother. I couldn’t get over how selfish they were. too ego centric to see it was my own selfish attitude that got me where I was. But it was that pity I had on myself that drove me to want more. The love of a family runs to deep to run away and that’s why I’m still here in this house by the bay.
Shortly after my sister grew up and moved away I knew I’d be going no where. My brothers wives wouldn’t have no part in moving in to this hollow house and my dad wasn’t going to live forever to care for my mom. I started renting out rooms to summer folks who loved the history and the way the sun shone on the sea from the windows on the second floor. I built the main floor in to its own self contained unit for my mother and hired one of the girls I went to school with to watch her while I was away. I’ve done well for myself for a girl who had dreams bigger then the box I’ve ended up in. I often wonder if I’ll ever have the sound of my own little feet pounding down these Hall ways like we loved to. Or if I’ll lose my mind here in the echo like my mother has. Only time can really tell. Time is the only dictator we cannot rebel against. One thing is for certain. The skies are brighter in a city horizon, dreams are bigger then what we know and sometimes what we can achieve. I was destined to leave this lonely town, where the fast lane sees more then the slow down. But destiny had other plans for me and so I remain Elizabeth Majorie Fairfax of 342 Broad-bay Way

Just Keep Swimming

So there is the mother with ppd laying in the darkness, loving up on her children as they drift off to sleep. Classical music coming from the sound machine, fish dancing on the ceiling. Each of them tangled in her warm embrace, all is calm and well with the world. Picture this, this picture perfect moment, how can this be the mother who’s been hindered by the monster. As she lays in slumber with her sweethearts, you see not the struggle, you see not the learning she makes daily, the leaps of faith to overcome. You don’t see the worry about, about what she’s learned through the years and the stress of the thing she said in that job interview five years ago how could someone be so stupid, so stupid to say, it was so stupid to not take that amazing opportunity to travel back when she was carefree and single, because of the money, the money she needs to plan for when her maternity leave runs out and she wants to maintain her,social life that she’s given up on because she hasn’t showered, she can’t leave the house with the door unlocked, is the oven on, is the door locked, did she turn the oven off. Thoughts, the worry, from things not connected but intertwined in the heavy heaps piles of the laundry, no,the heavy, the heavy, weight she has not, no, stop, the heaviness of it all. Like a scratch in the record, the broken bits of vinyl and the beautiful music they can still play. The mama is loving on her babies, as they lay in the darkness. Bach beats on and the fish are swimming, just keep swimming.

Steadfast

I’ve burned bridges to do what I thought was best for me. I flicked the match with no cause for concern as my foot took its last step to the edge. And then I ran. Ran for the hills, for the mountains through the trees. I ran with reckless abandon beyond beautiful scenery and endless opportunity. I said yes when I should have said no, no when I should have said yes. I held on to things that weighed me down, and threw away the things that would have kept my feet more firmly on the ground. It was a mix of mayhem and marvel, that I managed to never sink, to never to fail amidst this fall. And then I stopped. I inhaled and with an exhale I saw all that I had created along this chaotic path. All that I had crushed along the way, all that I failed to celebrate in my haste. All the clarity and the confusion mixed together. What if I had of known I could walk away sooner, would I have held on for so long to that relationship that no longer served me or the people around me. What if I had of valued the friendship I had so aimlessly thrown to the wind. What if instead of running, I had of faced that fear, the lonely, the fragile mess of loving and letting go, sooner would I have had more opportunity then I let myself experience. What if I had of let go of that great notion of that cookie cutter picture of perfection and risked more, lived more, experienced more. What if I didnt strike that match the second my foot touched solid ground. What if? What if instead I give myself the grace to love the lessons I learned. Appreciate the people who left me, forgive myself for those I left behind. What if I realize all the things I wish I had of done, are the ones I regret the most and Choose intention and risk for s more fulfilled moving forward. What if instead of feeding myself with guilt of the ashes I have created, i fuel myself with the coals that coarse my feet as I rebuild the bridge and cross back to the other side of beginning and growing. I’m thankful for the ones who are here through it all. I’m apologetic for the ones I put after mysel. I honour the places and person I’ve been. I hold true to the person I’ve not yet become.