Saying Goodbye

Saying Goodbye

We returned to Alberta on Thanksgiving weekend to pack up our house and say goodbye to the satisfying life we had built there over the last decade.

Closing chapters is never easy. Mixed feelings always seem to accompany change. We are all excited about a new adventure in the south surrey area of BC, but packing up our house and getting it ready for the family that bought it meant a ton of tears.

I loved my house. We moved there when Ava was three and William just seven months old. They grew from babies and toddlers into the kids they are today in that hallowed space. Every room held memories, laughs, change, despair and growth.

saying-goodbyeWhen I reflect upon those years, I realize how different I am at the end of them compared to the beginning. I went through profound changes while in counselling six years ago. I got to practice being who I really am instead of contorting to fit everyone else’s perceived expectations on me. I walked away from people pleasing and a whole lot of destructive relationships. I stopped being so earnestly good and instead looked for a variety of ways to free myself from excess noise, possessions, busyness and stress.

Our lives are made up of beauty and loss. We can’t move on properly to the next stage if we refuse to leave the current one, but the actual transition is unsettling. I’ve come to expect this when I’m moving into something new, but it never seems to get easier. The throat gets tight, the tears itch at the back of my eyes, I realize I’m tense and snapping at everyone because I’m so sad and I don’t know quite what to do with those big feelings.

The only way out is through. Skirting or minimizing only prolongs the pain. If we don’t acknowledge it and feel it when it’s fresh, the sadness becomes trapped and messes with our future happiness.

Saying goodbye properly is a skill. It requires attention and care. We must mark the occasion in some significant way. I had a good cry with both of my kids as we remembered specific things from our ten years of living in our house. It was important and holy work, sitting on the carpet in an empty room and telling stories.

Accepting that it hurts helps us to let it go and move on to what’s next. Life is meant to be experienced in all of its forms. I am tired of living small and afraid. The world is a big place and I long to get out there into it. I want more adventures and fewer possessions. I yearn for freedom to be my true self, to explore, to discover, to love better and wider, to go bravely inward as I travel on my own unique path.

How do you say goodbye when a stage is finished in your life? Do you avoid it or embrace it?

Intentional Vulnerability

Intentional Vulnerability

I was twitchy all day Saturday because Jason and I had scheduled a date to “reconnect”. This meant intentional vulnerability, a state many of us love when it’s over and fear before it begins.

Sharing our soul openly with another person is an act of sheer courage. What we say can be misconstrued, rejected, lost in the other person’s point of view or belief system. Even when we sit down for an enchilada dinner with the person we love most in the world, practicing intentional vulnerability is a risky proposition.

I’m happy to say it went remarkably well. I shed a few tears, asked him to keep driving when we arrived at the restaurant because I was in full flow (and it’s easier to pour out my heart when I’m not making direct eye contact), said more than I had rehearsed but somehow it was better that way.

INTENTIONALvulnerabilityWe’ve had a turbulent summer. New job for Jason, appendix rupture for me, far more question marks than exclamation points when it comes to where we will live and how we will solve a host of complicated problems. At the end of the day, none of that matters as much as who we are in our relationship together.

Are we kind to one another or do we take our stress out on each other? Are we considerate of what the other person needs or are we lost in our own sense of entitlement? Do we compete for who has it the worst or do we support each other in the hardest moments?

The answer, of course, is somewhere in between these extremes. To be married is to be in a constant state of flux. When one of us is calm, the other is tense. When one is confident, the other is a mess. It’s a seesaw where we do our best to balance out each other.

Jason has proven, again and again, that he is trustworthy when I open my heart to him, but every time I still feel afraid. Vulnerability is a powerful force to unite people when it works, but when it fails it feels terribly isolating and scary.

By the end of our delicious Mexican meal, we both felt closer, happier, more united. We want this season of struggle to mean something. We prefer to allow it to change us, from the inside out, so we are different as a result. Neither of us want to return to normal life without acknowledging that a significant shift has occurred.

Every time intentional vulnerability works the way it’s meant to, I’m a convert all over again. I long to grow all of my relationships in this way, but vulnerability is a two-way street. Both people have to buy in to this soul-to-soul spark.

If you tend to hold back, find a safe person and give it a try. Let yourself truly be seen for who you really are. Bring up your big fears, regrets, pain. If the other person proves worthy of this gift, you will experience a true connection that will go far above and beyond anything that skims along the surface and you’ll see how valuable intentional vulnerability can be.

3 Beginner Steps to Minimalism

3 Beginner Steps to Minimalism

As a family, we are on the road to minimalism. Like many other ventures I’ve tried, with minimalism I want to see instant change instead of accepting that this is going to take awhile.

I didn’t become an addicted consumer overnight, so shedding the trappings of our materialism will also be a slow process. Yet I find myself impatient for a different way of life. I long to be counterculture, debt free, only living with what I need and dumping my excess possessions.

3 Beginner Steps to MinimalismWith all major life change, it helps to break it down into small, manageable steps. When I look back, I see that I’ve been simplifying now for several years as both kids began school and stopped playing with so many toys, books and games. Most parents become accustomed to jettisoning clothes and supplies that their kids have outgrown, but this past winter something changed for me.

I began doing 15 minute jobs each day. I wrote down the areas of my house I wanted to tackle (kid’s bedroom closets, kitchen drawers, linen and bathroom cupboards, laundry room, etc.) and I set a timer for a 15 minute blitz of each location. I did this for weeks and months; donating, tossing or selling items based on the answer to this question: do I actually use this?

Before, the question would be much less specific, more like: will I eventually need this? I learned from The Minimalists that “just in case” are three of the most dangerous words in our culture today. And from Joshua Becker at Becoming Minimalist, I got a fresh life philosophy: “It’s better to want less than to have more.”

Are you interested in minimalism? Do you want to get off the consumer treadmill and try to find happiness in other places besides overspending on bigger houses, luxury cars and designer labels? These are the beginning 3 steps we’ve taken towards a simpler way of living.

Step 1: Only Keep What You Need

Start with the easiest areas of your house, like drawers full of batteries and take-out menus from 2008. Work up to harder things like photos, books, DVDs and knickknacks from family vacations. Don’t store it in your house if you don’t use it regularly.

Step 2: Understand Why You Are Minimizing

If you don’t see the value in what you are doing, it’s not likely to last. The more clutter you clear out of your physical space, the freer you will feel. Your priorities get sharper, it’s easier to make decisions for your future, and you’ll be less likely to continue to buy more when you see how satisfying it is to live with less.

Step 3: Tune Out Consumerist Cultural Messages

Tune out the cultural message that bigger and more is always better. If this advertising onslaught were true, wouldn’t your happiness level rise along with your income, mortgage, online shopping and number of possessions filling your garage, basement, bedrooms and rented storage bays? We’ve all been sold a lie. Moving further from debt sets us free from a useless, soulless competition for who has the most and best stuff.

There are more steps to freedom from consumerism, but these three are a great place to start. Drop me a line and let me know if you’d enjoy hearing more on this topic as I’ve got lots to say! We’ve seen our lives change from the inside out as we head down this minimalist path.

Preparing for Change

Preparing for Change

Change is a process. We can’t see it clearly peering into the future, but when we look back it’s easier to plot the high and low points on our individual graph.

I’ve come to recognize that the groundwork for change gets laid days, weeks, months and years ahead of the actual shift that we can point to and identify. Extreme patience is required in the preparation stage. It’s the seeds, deep underground, beginning to grow but nowhere near ready to burst through the soil and make themselves visible.

So much of this life is preparing. We must wait, whether we like it or not, until the time is right for the longed-for change to take place. As humans, we are wired to become bored and discontent when our existence becomes too predictable and safe. We crave adventure, change, new scenery and experiences. It’s in our DNA.

preparing forBut between the desire and the reality there is a gap. Sometimes it’s short and other times it’s dishearteningly long. Most of us would not make big changes unless we first felt motivated by boredom or loss or an inner compulsion to inject fresh vitality back into our lives. It’s easy for inertia to set in, to lull us into complacency, but when the spark ignites for something new, we begin to stir up our excitement and then we usually have to wait.

I’m trying to change the way I view this preparatory period. I know that work is happening, deep in my soul, just as surely as flowers bloom out of buried seeds and not by accident. We’ve been painting our house and boy, oh boy, painting is mostly prep work. And the preparation doesn’t look like much, but without it you’d never get to those beautifully altered, crisp and clean walls.

Change is a long, messy, unpredictable process. You get great news and you’ll be flying high, then a rejection or a disappointment hits and you feel abject despair, all of that inspirational hope erased like a whiteboard. Life is a series of hurdles. Some you clear with room to spare and you are filled to the brim with success and optimism. Others you smack into and fall hard, occasionally breaking a bone or bruising your confidence, and you have no choice but to muster the courage to stand up and try for the next one.

Preparation is critical to implement change at some point in the future. We wait, we dream, we continue to work even when the odds are stacked against us. It’s better to believe that those seeds are, in fact, growing, even if we can’t see them. We show up, day after day, learning what we can and refusing to give up on what we long for most. And one day, perhaps when we least expect it, all of that prep work will turn into actual change, just in time to start the process over again with something else.

The First 20 Years are the Hardest

The First 20 Years are the Hardest

Being in a long-term committed marriage is hard. If you are both open to change and growth (which is a prerequisite if you want to have a healthy, mutually-satisfying relationship), you will have periods of calm interspersed with turbulent weeks and months of upheaval and uncertainty.

Jason and I are in one of those uneasy stretches of our path right now and we have been for a couple of months now. Over the course of our almost 18 years of marriage, we’ve made our way through many of these rocky patches so I know if we persevere, we are likely to make it through to a place of strength and encouragement. That helps in a vague, otherworldly sense, but day to day it’s not much damn good.

I really hate the rawness of these relationship struggles. Where my brokenness meets his brokenness, it all feels broken. And yet day to day we make it through. We laugh over silly little things, we cook meals, we make plans, we parent as a team.

marriageTrying to be real with each other has its rewards when the sky is blue and the sun is shining. When the storm clouds roll in, that same level of honesty and authenticity can be terrifying. It leaves you feeling alone, naked, vulnerable and small. It’s agonizing, but this is always where the growing happens. I want the growth. I just don’t like the pain that precedes it.

I’m glad we fell in love and chose each other all those years ago. Thank God the tough times are mixed in with the happy ones or no marriage would succeed. I think it’s important to get honest about the real struggles and hardships that every couple goes through, especially now when we live in such a shiny Instagram world. The pretty pictures don’t tell the whole story. There is more going on than we can see in photos and glib status updates on social media.

The point of commitment it to be committed. To walk as partners through the darkest sections of your lives. To confront the fear head-on, with as much bravery as you can muster. To own your own words and actions and allow your partner to own theirs. To do your best to collaborate with kindness, riding out the scariest times and trying to remember why you love each other and decided to hitch your wagons together all those years ago.

The easy days don’t teach us much. They are there to enjoy as memories to keep us warm and safe, but hardship is where the greatest lessons reside. One day we’ll look back on this season and it will make more sense to us. For now, we will keep moving forward, together as a team, doing our very best to ask for what we need and learn what we can when the dice doesn’t roll our way.

As a favourite pastor told us many years ago when we were newlyweds, “The first 20 years of marriage are the hardest.” Now that we are close to that milestone, I think I finally know what he meant. But the only way out is always through – so we continue to walk together, whistling in the dark to bolster our courage, reaching out for the other person’s hand in the blackest sections to remind yourself that you are not alone.