A death begets a thousand smaller ones

Say a prayer for my mom today. She's trading in my dad's car (Camry) for a new one for her (Toyota Yaris) this evening. It's another one of a thousand little deaths that we've still got to cope with in the aftermath of my dad's fatal heart attack last November.

My dad's car was a big symbol of who he was. It was HIS car. HIS place. Part of HIS little empire. I always associated it with HIM - every time I see the same car driving around, I strain my eyes, peering through the windshield to see who's driving it. Anyone other than him behind the wheel just looks weird.

Up until today it still was full of all his stuff - his sunglasses, his thermos, his coffee cup, his gum, his snacks, his electronic gadgets, his back support cushion. We barely touched it since he died. It was preserved as if he'd just been in there yesterday. Now my Mom has to go into that inner sanctum, that sacred personal space, and clean it all out. I'm sure it will be heart wrenching. She was talking about it a few weeks ago and could barely talk about it without breaking down.

I now know there's not just one death that survivors have to deal with after we lose a loved one. I'm starting to see that the rest of my life will be a journey of surviving a thousand little deaths from now until our own passing. Or at least until our lives have journeyed on to fill in the gaps with new things that my dad was not a part of. Even a year later, I'm still discovering all the ways his existence affected our lives. From what we did for fun, how we celebrated holidays and major milestones, to what we ate to what we talked about and what we could do, and that there just still so many holes in my life.

I think the initial shock of losing someone protects you from all the heartbreaking details that come down the road. And that's good. But now that my "heart anaesthetic" is wearing off, I can see that my dad's death will be affecting me and my family for a long time. Certainly a lot longer than a year - which was the milestone that I was looking towards to "just survive". I was looking forward to completion of this year, as a means to feeling more assured that things were now looking up, but now I see that this pain will likely continue on for some time to come. I'm tired of feeling this pain.

All of this didnt hit me all at once, and its still so hard. It's such a long, difficult road. I don’t know how my mom has it in her to be so strong. I don’t know if I could cope with widowhood with as much strength and dignity that she's showing.

I love you mom, and I'm so proud of you. You've been a shining example on how to retain my dignity as a woman in spite of heartbreaking loss, and to go on bravely, be your own person, and still find the beauty of life and show me that there are a million reasons to want to keep living.

And God, please dont take my Mom from me any time soon. I dont know how I'd cope with that amount of heartbreak all at once.

4:30 am and I'm still awake...

Ok.. I'm still awake from 1:30 that is. My baby has been up off and on all night and I'm exhausted. I dont know if it's her teeth, or what, but she's been up and down every few hours.

I had a hard time going to sleep on account of a lot of work troubles, and now this. I am afraid to go to sleep because it will be so hard to get up. I dont know if I'll be more tired if I get 3 more hours of sleep or if I just push myself through and not sleep at all.

Over the past few days at work, I've come to learn that I'm going to be relocated to another work group. Its been decided that the files that I've been working on are better suited to another group's responsibility, however, this group is not one in which I would have sought work. And the nature of the larger group in which I now report is not an area in which I feel I have a particular expertise or any knowledge. Basically, it doesn't look like a good job fit. And the leader of group that I now have to leave is not offering me an opportunity to stay.

How do I look at this and not take it personally? I have been with that group for 4 years. Recently its come under new direction (while I was away on maternity leave). I came back after leave and was asked to take over a different set of files in the interim, while the person who was working on them went away on education leave. However, now the fact that I'm working on these "interim files" are the reason I'm being pushed out of the door. It has absolutely nothing to do with my skills or past experience.

I really liked working at this place. It had an excellent staff, interesting work, great location, supportive of work-life balance. I really liked the nature of the work (everything except the extreme "RUSH" nature of it). I have a lot of friends there. I didn't really want to leave. I got into the group through the independent competition process, completely legitimately. But now I have been told I have to leave. I have no choice. And this group that I'm leaving is still doing some "hiring" to fill in some vacancies, however it doesnt appear that I'd be given any option to fill one of those positions.

I've done nothing wrong here but go away on leave and happen to come back to the wrong files. I've got more to offer to the group than what I'm doing, and what I'm being offered, but apparently there's no recourse for this. I'm definitely not being seen as a person with a history and a wide variety of skills. Our senior management (higher than the people that have made this decision) has indicated that there is a shortage of people in the branch with skills that I possess. I dont understand. It hurts me so deeply that this has happened TO me, without my knowledge or consent.

And its keeping me up at night.

The person that made this decison wouldnt know me from anyone else on the street. There's no way they actually know my skills, experience and education. But I'm still taking this very personally.. despite the fact that there's no way this could be personal, considering the decision makers don't know me.

How do I deal with this?

Mousecapades, part deux

This morning we awoke to hear the pitter, patter, "ting" of another mouse caught in our live traps.

He was released a short time later in the same location as the first mouse. I hope they have reunited and yesterday's mouse has introduced today's mouse to all his new friends.

Good luck on your new adventures mice!

Pain in the neck

We've all heard that saying.. This is a pain in the neck. I now know where it came from.

Part of my work these days involves getting a mandatory reporting document finished, approved, translated, printed and presented. It's been a real challenge all the way through. I picked the file up this fall and its been challenging before I got it, and its been REALLY challenging since it's been my responsibility.

We're now trying to get it approved. In the past two days I've recieved no less than NINETEEN email comments on various views and questions regarding the routing for approvals, and the timeline that it's on, despite direct instructions from senior management. And it's still not in approvals yet.

The document is due in November, and this stuff is still going on. I'm about to put myself through the paper shredder.

If this doesn't get done, I don't want to be the person that delivers the nasty little package from the Crown lawyers to the Boss' office. I tried hard to get this done. I really did. I busted my butt, all the way through.

However, this whole project, however has felt like one of those dreams where you're being chased by a bad guy and you can't move.

And my neck REALLY hurts.

Mouse witness relocation program

Set a live trap... and catch a live mouse. And then release it back into nature, where it belongs.

I did that this morning.

A few weeks ago my husband noticed some strange gnawing noises in a cupboard above our stove, where we keep our spices and other stuff. I thought he was a bit paranoid and said "I think its just the sound of the fridge, dear". I love my husband, but sometimes he can be a bit over-reactive about things. I am also very much that way, which is why we set each other off. We're the panic twins, trying to run a household and raise a family, with very little experience, under some very trying circumstances.

One day a few weeks ago, after the mysterious munching sounds, a mysterious splatter of brown liquid fell onto the top of the stove. We didnt think much of it as there had been a storm that night and we thought that perhaps some water came in from the ductwork that connected our range-hood fan to the outdoors. The brown liquid didnt smell bad or anything so we figured it was just greasy, dirty water being blown in the ductwork.

Then on Monday, I was looking for some spices in the cupboard and noticed a lot of tiny little plastic bits. Then some tiny bits of tinfoil from an old package of Hershey's kisses. I pulled out a well-chewed plastic bottle of liquid vanilla extract. Aha! The mysterious brown liquid. It had on it the tell-tale gnaws of a hungry mouse. I moved a few things around and saw a mouse-hole, exactly the shape of of mouse-holes in cartoons, drilled into the back wall of the cupboard. I also found an empty bag of pine nuts, with a gnaw-hole in the side, as well as a lot of little black "presents" littered around the cupboard. MMM.. mouse poop. I guess those little brown specks weren't remnants of the Hersheys kisses after all.

As I'm cleaning up the mess (very carefully I might add) my husband was FREAKING, running in and out of the kitchen, lobbing verbal fear-bombs at me. "Don't put that there. Throw that out. Oh my God. Mice are so dirty. Oh my God. Our house is falling apart. First the mouldy bathroom. Now, mice. We can't even keep up with this house. Oh my God".

It wasn't a pleasant experience.

So yours truly not only had to clean up the mess, but I had to do it while listening to the freaked out backseat cleaner.

Overall the mess wasn't too bad and I got a chance to dump all my old spices and buy new ones, so that's good. I've lived in houses with mice in them before, so I'm well aware of how to safely clean up mouse poop. We also brought in an eco-friendly pest control person yesterday to help us seal off the mousy entry points and set live traps to catch-and-release the mice. I feel really good about going that route. With my work and education in ecology and agriculture, I have doubts about using chemicals and more "modern" pest control techniques. We've come a long way since the "old time home remedies" and I've been learning when it comes to sustainable environmental solutions, those old time remedies are the best.

So anyhow, last night around 11:30 pm we heard a "clink" in our mouse-containment cupboard, and then some tiny tapping noises. Success.

Despite me trying to be all tough about it, I'll admit I had a hard time sleeping last night, knowing there was a real live, wild rodent in my kitchen. There was a time when seeing any wildlife, whether it be rural or urban would not have bothered me. As a kid I used to dig up worms and play with them. I used to let bunches of tent caterpillars crawl all over my arms and hands. I'd pick up giant moths, huge beetles, pretty much anything that crawled.

But something has happened in my old age, and now I find myself really scared of bugs, mice, etc.

So we waited until this morning to open the trap. Upon peering in the cupboard, we saw a big fat deer mouse, hiding in its trap. Normally deer mice are tiny, but this bad mamma was either really fat, from all the chocolate it ate from my cupboard, or pregnant.

It now has a new home. It looked pretty happy as it dashed off into the long grass beside a corn field. I hope it has made new friends already.

I'll be sure to release any other mice from my house into the same location so as to maximize the chance of reuniting a family.

Unitalkers

...has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
The life, the love
You die to heal
The hope that starts
The broken hearts
You trust, you must
Confess...

- from "The best of you" by the Foo Fighters

In my life I've had more than my share of experiences with Unitalkers. You know the type. People who just move on in and take over any situation, conversation or interaction with excessive talking, usually about themselves, with little regard to what was going on before they showed up. There's people like this all over the place. You meet them on planes, buses and stores. They're also part of every extended family. There's usually one Uncle, Aunt or Grandparent at every family function that will talk someone into a corner.. and won't even notice they're stressing that person out by doing so.

However, for the most part, these people are usually harmless, and you know that as soon as the situation changes, they'll be gone. They'll soon be relegated to fodder for smalltalk with friends, family and coworkers. But what about those of us who have intense unitalkers who are in a much closer circle?

I dont want anyone to get the wrong impression about what I'm going to say. I loved my Dad with all my heart. He could be fun, boisterous, and I know he loved me and my family dearly. However, my dad, bless his heart, happened to be a unitalker. A very loud, intense one. A lot of time spent with him was spent listening to him talk about his problems, his knowledge, his experiences - such as who cut him off in traffic, who cheezed him off here and there, etc. He was also often very "politically incorrect" and/or would say things that were really inappropriate in certain situations. And he'd say it LOUDLY. Man - his voice could carry across ANY space. He even would talk about things that I knew a LOT about due to my education or work experience, in an authoritarian way, and many times he wasn't even correct. THAT one baffled me. He also used to cut me off in mid sentence in order to talk to my mom. I found that really disrespectful and downright painful. What kind of message did that send me?

In any case, there often was little space for my brother and me (and even my Mom) to talk about our thoughts, wishes, hopes, dreams, fears, experiences and knowledge. I know he meant well, but it was very difficult for us to have our own space in his giant presence.

In the past year, not only am I coming to grips with my dad's death and the major adjustments necessary to become a mother, but I also had the added burden of recovering from postpartum depression, with a strong obsessive-compulsive component. There are many factors that contributed to my PPD/OCD - definitely the subject of another post altogether. As part of my recovery I participated in a support group for moms with PPD. I met some brilliant and wonderful women who are all walking similar roads as myself. We all have different stories, but they are all fraught with incredible challenges, heartbreaking losses, and extremely difficult relationships with our closest family members. These women are my heroes. And yes, most of us have or have had unitalkers in our lives.

Motherhood is a time of extreme transition. We have to go from being the "subordinate child" to being a leader. A parent. One of the heads of a household. Its a major mental shift. It was very hard to do as I had never ever felt THAT important before. I didnt have the self confidence to feel that I could rely on my own self enough to BE the parent that I suddenly needed to be. Growing up with a unitalker really didn't do a lot to help me in this regard (that's an understatement for sure!)

In my PPD recovery before my dad passed away I was struggling with the issue of how to deal with the difficulties and challenges of my relationship with him. I knew deep in my heart that I would have to confront the more painful aspects of his "unitalkingness". The fact that I had a lot of knowledge and experience as an adult in my own right, that I too was important, that I deserved mental space. And that I was DYING inside ever since I was a little girl, for him to see me, to listen to me, to recognize me and to take interest in MY life too. I wanted to feel important, to be recognized, validated and supported by him. That's SO important in a relationship and absolutely CRITICAL in a parent-child one (especially when the child is young). The dynamics of my relationship with my dad were not often that way.

I've had past episodes of depression and each time, I reached the breaking point, I knew that I had to make some changes in a few key relationships in my life, and that one in particular. The last few times I've had to do that, were extremely difficult and painful. I was NOT looking forward to getting into this again.

However, not more than a few days after I came to the realization I had to go there again, my dad was gone.

I'm now left with so many conflicting emotions. Extreme sadness that he's gone and I'll never see him again, and that my daughter will never know him. A broken heart that only the daughter who's lost her father can feel. I feel fear about the future, that he as a "safety blanket" is now gone. Forever. But I'm not particularly upset that I won't have to confront my dad about the nature of our relationship.

Maybe in time, I would have been able to put his behaviour down in the "odd personality quirks" column and not let it get to me so much. Maybe I'd have had the confidence to explain to Abby why sometimes we had to leave Grandpa and Grandma's house early despite having said we'd stay the whole weekend. Maybe I'd have been able to stand by her and explain why Grandpa talked so much and so loudly about things that made her feel uncomfortable. Maybe I'd have been able to stand up to him and define a boundary of appropriate behaviour with respect to her. Maybe he and I would have come a long way to working out our areas of discomfort. Maybe I'd have become a more compassionate towards him - a lot better at recognizing that his "unitalkingness" was really a means for him to control his own inner anxiety and keep his mind occupied away from his own troubles.

Who knows. Or maybe it was never going to be that way, and God stepped in. I dont know. Now I'll never know, and I'm not sure if that's okay.

Motherhood = Scared ****less....

Is motherhood supposed to be this stressful? After a totally stressful day at work, running here and there, trying to get a mandatory Major reporting document that's due in December back on track, I have to dash off to pick up the baby early because her daycare provider has to go to the Doctor. I was looking forward to a nice quiet evening as I was already frazzled from work. I was so happy that I had little to do after the baby's asleep at 7:30 (after my usual gruelling 13 hour day).

Unfortunately, my evening peace was shattered because the baby woke up at 8:00, SCREAMING her head off.. sounding like she's choking. She couldnt, WOULDNT settle down, coughing, crying, fussing, pushing away from us, and screaming this terrible quiet, muffled scream. Her little eyes all puffed up, her breathing and sobbing jagged and scary. Its so scary when they can't talk and they get like this, you have no idea what's wrong. My anxiety levels hit the ROOF. Was she truly choking? Did she have some kind of serious illness all of a sudden? She was fine not an hour earlier.. why did she wake up? What's wrong?

We dosed her up with some baby-Motrin and tried to distract her for about 45 minutes, thinking it was her teeth (she is 15 months old and still no molars). But she kept waking up and screaming. Her times betweens scream-fits started to lengthen, and then by 9:30.. glorious silence. Of course my mind was racing "is she okay? Is she still breathing? Etc. etc..." Its awful the things that used to run through my mind as a mom with postpartum depression. When you're mired in PPD, the preoccupation with the safety of your child becomes crippling, so much so that you won't leave the house most days, leading to reinforcing the horrendous isolation that new mothers often feel. Its so hard to convince myself that everything's going to be okay after that experience, as well as the shocking sudden loss of my father (He died laying on the couch no less! What could be more safe than that?)

I've become so preoccupied with the safety of my remaining loved ones that its crippling sometimes. I still feel it wake me up in the middle of the night, snatch me out of an almost-asleep state and render me in tears. I feel so much anxiety so often as I fear so much another major loss at this time in my life. I wasn't ready to lose my dad at age 35.. I'm certainly not ready to lose anyone else anytime soon.

Last night I finally calmed down enough (with the use of a tiny bit of medication) to get to bed by 11:30 (2 hours well after my usual bed time) and woke up at 4am, anxious as hell. I managed to fall back asleep from 6-7 and I've had the shakes (my husband calls them the "piggly wigglies") ever since. I teetered and tottered around this morning, getting the baby ready for daycare, and headed out into the foggy morning.

Its now 8:45 and I'm already exhausted. I've got two big meetings today and a yoga class tonight. Wish me luck.

P