Stuff to Do

The truth is, nobody really knows what happens next.  At the stroke of midnight,  people will celebrate the close of a year that has felt absolutely interminable. We all hope things get better, we talk about how we are hopeful - but what are we going to DO to make it better? I'm a storyteller. In the words that I write, in the food I prepare, in singing, in decorating my home, in my garden. Until now, much of my storytelling has been reflective, introspective. In this new year, I want to tell stories that bring us together. I'm stepping out of my own head, and writing words that tell the story of courageously walking towards that big fat question mark.  What happens next? Don't know, and it doesn't matter. I'm stepping out to meet it no matter what it is. I'm not hiding behind pretty words for another day of my life.  What would my life be like if I finished my certificate and got a job at a school? I don't know, but I'm doing it anyway. What would it fe

 When you are separated by oceans and years, grief is bizarre.  When you pray for a loved one's healing, yet the healing does not come in this life, it is even more bizarre. You are devastated that they no longer walk this earth, but overjoyed at their release from pain and suffering.  I haven't seen my stepmom (Mom, since I've never called her my stepmom - much to the confusion of anyone who has heard me talk about her) in 13 years. Not because of a falling out or anything traumatic - just...life I guess. We've had a full-on 13 years with four children, special needs, moving houses, changing schools, sort of FIFO-ing, and all the rest. Then we planned to go visit, but Covid-19.  Her death isn't necessarily a shock, because she was ill. But not being able to say goodbye has kicked me in the heart, and I feel as though it might actually stop beating, if I give in to the emotion lingering behind my caffeine-infused facade. Of course it's okay to grieve, but the th

 But not the good kind, unfortunately.  This morning I am trying to set out a weekly menu, write out a shopping list, and synchronise calendars, because we have a lot of people, with a lot of stuff, and my working memory is rubbish. Caffeine and weirdness will only carry me so far, so I have to do this stuff.  My desk is in the corner of the main room of our house. It's a convenient spot, next to the bookshelf, with plenty of room on the wall above it for inspirational bits and bobs.  Unfortunately, I seem to have communicated the message that if I am visible, I am available for ANYTHING, EVERYTHING, AT ANY TIME.  I have headphones in, and still - they try to ask me questions. I have visible evidence of work happening, and still they ask me questions like;  -how do I spray cooking spray on this pan? -is this mixed? Clearly, the boundary skirmishes rage on, but that is fine, and I shall tell you why. For years, I have heard the message from ALL of the people in my life - 'you ca

 In my world, we take a step forward, two steps back, tripping over our own feet, sometimes with a great deal of unfortunate language. I take the hand of my Savior, who drags me to my feet, and start again. We don't seem to ever really get anywhere, despite assurances that we're doing all the things we can do - but somehow we almost make it look like it's working.  Sometimes the best thing we can do for someone who is tripping over their own feet is to sit with them, acknowledge that tripping over yourself just stinks, and wait. Not tell them how you would avoid tripping over your own feet, or tell them they should stop tripping over their own feet. Or how everyone else has clumsier feet, or no feet at all, and they manage to not only not trip on their feet, but win the world championship of ballroom dancing.  I never learned how to NOT be anxious. I'm learning how to live with it now, as an adult, but it's not something I can just shut off. It's part of my dail