Cat Skinner Club

Preparing for Landing

I was going to begin this post by apologizing for not writing for a while. I feel like I’m apologizing all of the time lately – for being anti-social, for not keeping in touch, for being too quiet or a bit cranky in the mornings, for feeling stressed out or sometimes anxious. You know what? I’ve decided all of those things are okay because there’s a lot happening in my life right now.

The new house is beautiful. We’re settling in well, and now I’m charged with the task of packing up my life. Today is a big day in Schnooville, (I can’t get in to the particulars), and somehow I find myself all alone, faced with what was once my Fortress of Solitude. This place just feels like a big mess now.

Some days, I’m better off holing up with the roiling contents of my skull. This is absolutely one of those days. I can be most effective, and best serve the greater good by taking today to pour through old journals, part forever with old mementos, smile at silly things I’ve been hanging on to for so long, cry a little over china teacups gifted to me by the dearly departed (teacups that I just don’t have space for in the new home, sadly) and remember who I have been.

The Schnoo who I’ve been feels like a very different person than the Schnoo I am now.

There is something about finding love that challenges your confidence and self worth to the very deepest level one can imagine. Sometimes love feels like the most delicate filament that can be torn away into the wind with the mildest gust, and hanging onto something so fragile is far more terrifying than giving over to the elements as they rip through our lives.

Most days I feel full to my brim with joy and peace and pure contentment, but there are always those days where I feel I am a stranger wherever I go. These are the days that test us, that challenge us to recognize that we are worthy of the happiness in our lives, despite the doubt and fear that surrounds us – from without and from within.

Today my solace and comfort will come from threadbare stuffed animals, tiny ballet slippers, and bad teenage poetry. I predict few boxes will get packed, and that this Schnoo will end up in the cafe around the corner working on my new writing project, admiring my coral toes, and sipping an iced latte.

We all deserve to take care of our hearts and heads, don’t we?

Packing – The Saga Continues

Photo by Olivia Bee, courtesy of Flickr

Hello world!

The move went fairly well, though it took longer than any move I’ve experienced thus far. We’re nearly unpacked, and mostly settled in. Before I can completely relax, however, I must now pack up my entire apartment. As of June 1st, the Fortress is officially a memory.

I love the new house. After a week of fairly intense anxiety (on my part, I hate living in chaos) I’m now able to relax and enjoy the space. It looks like next week I can even return to my writing, if I come up with a smooth packing/work plan. I have to say though, I am least looking forward to packing up my stuff.

I intend to purge a lot. There is so much in that apartment that is now rendered useless, and so many things that I haven’t thought about in these many months of living somewhere else. It may be a bit epic, and time is running out. I’ve got furniture to clear out too, which is always a hassle. June will be welcome, when all of this upheaval is complete.

There is so much good right now – a bigger bed, a home that feels just as much mine as it is all of ours, a happier place with lots more space for our family. I’m really happy, and am trying hard to focus on the good rather than let my obsessive need for order get the best of me. My ability to go with the flow seems to diminish in the face of age. I remember not long ago living in construction dust, sleeping on an air mattress, and using my aunt’s toilet across the street. I suppose the difference now is that there are four other people who are subject to my anxiety, and who add to the overall cacophony of moving and unpacking.

Therapy is amazing. If you’ve ever thought for ten seconds that maybe you can benefit from it, I would encourage you to try it. Honestly, it’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. I so, so enjoy the process, and I can actually see the change taking effect in my own world.

I’m itchy to get back to writing. The move has really put a damper on my ability to write, and with the book sitting half done, I’m trying to pencil in time to get back to it.

Now, I’ll head off to the Fortress in search of the perfect costume for Charity Dawn to appear in at a bachelor party this weekend. Tonight is choir practice. We’re learning “Don’t Stop Believing” which we’ll perform at a variety show for Gay Pride, at an event at Buddies in Bad Times, hosted by Scott Thompson. Life is never boring, and for that I’m eternally grateful.

Schnoo’s Tips for a Successful Move:

* Choose boxes that are medium-sized, and only fill large boxes with light weight items

* Colour – code each room at the new place and label the boxes with the appropriate colours

* Create a floorplan of the new place with the colour code key for the movers, even though they will laugh at you.

* Categorize each box from 1 to 3 in order of unpacking priority

* Write a basic inventory on each box

* Purge, purge, purge

* Have cold drinks on hand for the movers

* Ship the children off to a loving grandparent for the moving weekend

* Unpack the kids’ room as soon as possible, prior to their return from weekend get-away

* Pack snacks and drinks for moving day. Have a take-out place on standby. Have cold drinks for the movers, particularly if one is a diabetic Newfie.

* Keep aside bedding and towels for the first night, as well as a week’s supply of clothes

* Keep your sense of humour, take breaks, keep smiling

The Sixteen Hour Challenge

Last night was spent amid a sea of cardboard boxes in the company of a couple of close friends, drinking wine and sharing some laughs. It was a much-needed dose of social activity, and delicious with homemade pizza on the menu.

As the evening wore on, a genuine compliment from me, delivered without excessive gusto was followed with a friend telling me that I always pay the perfect compliment at the best moments. She thinks I have a real knack for telling people what they need to hear, not as a tool of manipulation, but as a sincere way of helping them feel better about themselves.

I thought this was a great compliment! This made me reflect on some truly lovely things people have told me about myself, particularly things I’ve heard in the last week. It’s amazing how much we hold on to criticism or judgment, or dwell on hurtful comments, yet the compliments roll off us like water on an oily surface.

Seriously, think about this. When you hear a sincere compliment, something that touches you, you kind of feel it in your gut. Have you received any of those this week? In the last couple weeks? What were they? Who did they come from?

My sixteen hour challenge is this: Think of at least one lovely thing you’ve heard about yourself lately. Hold on to this statement, and try with all your might to allow yourself to believe it for as long as you can within the context of a day. Keep it in the forefront of your mind for as long as you possibly can. When you feel like the usual white noise and sometimes yucky stuff in your head is squeezing it out, hold on to that compliment and remember how it made you feel. Use it like armor against the sometimes cloudy stuff that gets in the way of really feeling like you deserve to – just the way the compliment made you feel. Try to see if you can make it through a whole waking day like this. I bet it will be tricky, but it’s something I’ve done all day today, and it really, really has made me feel amazing.(Pair that with a cozy day with my best girl with some amazing conversation and connection and you can’t lose, really…)

You are awesome! You have a passion and zest for life that’s inspiring! You give strength every day to the people you love! Those jeans make your ass look delicious!

A Slice of Saturday Night

Jazz Owls of the world unite!!!

(may we all learn to spread our wings.)

The Mute Button

Today is one of those days when I wish my brain had a mute button. The older I get, the more I realize that I am the type of person who simply can’t shut off their head. My thoughts will sometimes take over any and all ability to live in the moment, and enjoy what’s happening around me.

This only feels tiresome when my head is dwelling on strange things; questions that remain unanswered; issues that are unresolved; things I feel anxious about; unpleasant feelings that I wish were not there. Maybe it’s the stress of moving, or the current phase of the moon, or perhaps it’s because I caved and had a slice of toast at breakfast – but I’m really having a day. Days like this make me long for a Batcave, where I can hide out until the clouds pass and I’m feeling sunny again.

A mute button would be stellar. By the time I un-muted, whatever these strange feelings are will have passed, and I’d feel positive and secure again. That’s what I can easily boil it down to – insecurity. Perhaps I wish that I could just mute insecurity?

I feel, in my weakest moments, like I have really obscure edges and angles and there will be no puzzle that I’ll ever fit comfortably into. Like just as I’ve eased in, the slightest jostle or change of temperature will cause me to pop back out again, back into the land of “just not fitting”.

Perhaps an early evening nap will fix everything.

Off I go then…