Certified (or certifiable?)

Things are good, and when they are, I have this immediate habit of being grateful.  I also tend to constantly look back at benchmarks and acknowledge where I was along the way.  On the journey from somewhat-happily married to today, I sometimes have trouble believing I’m the same person, but then again, in a lot of ways, I’m actually not.

As I read about Heather’s need for some space to take care of herself,  it takes me right back to the fall of 2010 when Man and I were separating;  I drank a lot of wine, I watched a lot of Dexter, I ate to soothe my pain (I remember making a special trip to the grocery store just to buy Hallowe’en candy that I had no intention of sharing), and I did what I could to muddle through what was happening.  I cried and listened, and took support as it was handed to me.  I also holed up inside myself to begin processing it all.

I faked bravado and moved out…fell in love with my new life and my new home and transitioned Baxter into the same, but I still struggled.  I wondered if we had given up too quickly, I thought and rethought and continued to trudge on.  I saw my own potential.  I realized that I would laugh and I would cry, but it would all be okay.

And I made some plans.  Five years of them.  I got clear on the woman I wanted to become. I decided I was going to go after my certification level in coaching, I was going to take the leap.  And I did.  A year ago, I was preparing to be in school – buying supplies I would need, preparing meals for the freezer, automating every single thing I could.  I started this on June 15th, 2011 – the same day that the Canucks epically choked in Game 7 and the riots occurred. I reached a finish line, of sorts yesterday, when I received the final notice that I had passed everything and was completely certified.  I have the letters behind my name!  It felt good.  Truthfully, I had very little doubt I would, but it was sure nice to get that envelope.

So now I begin again.  I’ve been working for all this time to get to the Start Line, and now I’m here, ready to set out on new legs.  It’s a new chapter.  One where I know I made the right decision in leaving my marriage.  One where I know I have to live with the regrets that I have and the thought that I may have lost some of my best years in a relationship that ultimately ended.  One where I know there is so damn much amazing and awesome to come, that if I could see it all, I would be blinded by all the light.

In some ways, I can’t believe I’m where I am, but in others, I can’t imagine it was ever any other way.

 

More TP. More time.

Image courtesy of candidlyred.blogspot.com (thanks Kristen - your blog is boo-tee-ful!)

I’ve been in a pretty grateful place these past few weeks; self-employment is fitting me very well so far.  I wanted to share a (partial) list of all that is filling my thankful tank, of late, and also note some observations from this side of things.

Grateful:

Baxter.  You knew he’d be on this list.  He’s proven, again and again, that he is a trusty little companion and that he holds a lot of the cards in this operation of ours.  His routine is largely the same, but when he is home with me, I can tell he’s grateful, too, for more time with me and more belly rubs.  We both had some huge Puppy Joy earlier tonight when we ventured out around dusk for a walk.  He tried to cross the street without me and stepped off the curb.  As I called him back, with the leash more that taut, he got a very stubborn look on his face, planted his tree-trunk feet, and leaned away from me, refusing to move as he looked away.  I couldn’t figure out what was so thrilling on the opposite side of the road, but perhaps he was like the chicken and just wanted to get to the other side.  In any case, I won that particular argument with some full-body-weight-tugs and for that I think he was happy, because we did end up at THE PARK! (that’s how he says it)  In a stroke of genius, I had thought to grab a ball on our way out, so in the park down the street, where it is partially fenced, I removed his leash (a huge risk if you know bassets) and we played Baxter’s version of fetch, where he gleefully romps after the ball and returns it a few times, until he is tired, then he starts to simply stop it so that I can come pick it up while he sniffs the grass.  I was laughing with him as he ran and played and it was utter joy.  He is a sweet little soul and I am thankful for him every day.

Friends.  Far and near, I am feeling the love.  From just upstairs to all the way from Ontario.  I lean on everyone and remember that it takes a village to run my practice and my life.  I am so humbled by all of it; the confidence in me, the referrals of clients, the acknowledgment I get for all that I am doing.  I am a lucky girl.  And with the passing of another birthday a few weeks ago and sudden time to reconnect with old friends came the inevitable calculating of time that I have known people – for some it’s more than 15 years.  It’s a beautiful thing to think I have a whole football team worth of people who could be references for me on my passport.

Wine.  Always.

The coaching community I work in.  I was in a room this past weekend with more than 100 other coaches, and I am still puffed up from the energy and potential in that room.  It makes me clutch at my heart and blink away tears to know that we all support each other as we take on changing the world.

iDevices.  And my notebook (that I actually write in)(with an actual pen).  I have my phone for when I’m on the road.  I have an iPad for coffee shops and working on the sofa or anywhere that isn’t my office, and I have my laptop (used as a desktop) IN my office.  I never feel uninspired or far from being able to make things happen.  I also relish turning all of these devices OFF and just disappearing for awhile.

Time.  I have more of it.  I never have to be racing anywhere anymore.  I am sure this won’t always be the case, but for now, I am enjoying it.  My days are filled with meetings and appointments and delicious *space*, but I never feel panic or get resentful that I am only one person with too much to handle.  I have had to set an alarm twice since I left my job, and both times I woke up on my own before it even went off.  It’s making me trust that my body knows when to do things without me telling it.

Progress.  My website is growing, and it now has a blog (oh help us, I have TWO of these things now).  Contacts are being made, copy is getting written, seminars are being planned.  It’s happening.  Whoa.

My clients.  They make me excited, they fill me with awe.  I am always excited to get time with each of them and hear what they are discovering.

The Men in my life.  Some are friends and some are more than that, and some fit somewhere in the middle.  They remind me that I am strong, use the word “gorgeous” to describe me, and remind me that my match is out there somewhere and worth waiting for.  Funny, as I was typing, the word “waiting” auto-corrected to “eating”…that’s a funny thing.  I wondered what all this eating was for!

And now some observations:

• I go through more toilet paper now that I am home more.  Not something I registered would happen.
• My apathy around cooking for myself has not gone away with all the time I now have.  I shop like I will cook, but I don’t.  I still often have a giant hunk of cheese and a glass of wine for dinner.
• My office is always on the verge of chaos; it’s like it breathes.  I can’t just dump things on my desk now, or I won’t be able to use it.  A clear (ish) desk inspires me.
• My apartment is really, really small.  I will post a tour of my home office sometime, just so you can see all that needs to reside IN IT: bins of dog food, bins of craft supplies, ALL MY CLOTHES, various pieces of miscellany from the rest of the house.  It’s a feat of engineering to work here.
• There is very little reason to get out of jammies some days, but I always do so that I feel like one of the humans.
• Baxter sleeps approximately 22 hours of the day.  I’ve been here to witness it in person.
• Despite having all this time and space I rave about, I still really, really want a maid.  Being self-employed has not made me any neater or care more about dust.

With that, it is time to power down all the iDevices, make a cup of tea and do some relaxing.

Make it great day…

t

Bullets are Faster

Biz.  Zey.  Tomorrow is NOVEMBER.  Not sure if anyone noticed that, but there it is.  That means the official end of certification (at least the part where I get up at 6am on Wednesdays) will be over in 5 weeks.  I am planning a party as soon as I come up for air.  Send me your clever ideas for a celebration.  Gifts are totally and completely welcome.  I am now not one of those people who will refuse gifts.  I deserve them.

In other news:

• I shot a gun for the first time this past Friday.  It was a 9mm Baretta (?)(is that the the proper name of a gun?)(shit.)(I can’t remember)(I do know it was 9mm)(Wren?)
• Wow, it was fun!  I had a Groupon thing to use, so I took my friend Wren (semi-retired police dude) with me.  Turns out the coupon was good for every day BUT Friday, but we went anyway.  It just means I get to go again.  And I get points on my visa.
• Turns out I am REALLY good at shooting a paper human!  I managed to hit the heart/head/whatever I was aiming for most times.
• Turns out gun safety?  Very important.  If you get all Charlie’s Angels with it, you get scolded.  Don’t take it personally, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, it just means you’re waving your gun around like Drew Bloody Barrymore (or Jacqueline Smith if you are old like me and remember the original) and could kill someone.
• Shooting in real life is very different than on TV.  Two hands are totally required to get a kill shot.
• Will you just LISTEN to me???
• I am by no means a fast shooter – it took me a looong time (sorry Wren)(I think I must have aged you in the process) to line things up, but the holes in my Mr. Osama Bin Laden target were proof again that slow and steady wins the race.  Rarrrrh!
• I went to a Halloween Party on the weekend and had waaaay too much fun.
• I was dressed as Little Red Riding Hood.
• If LIttle Red Riding Hood had a fair bit of cleavage.
• Who KNEW?
• Turns out I can be entertaining when I’ve had a few shots of tequila.
• It occurs to me that people might mean “a total pain in the ass” when they say “entertaining,” but I am going to choose the former, or the latter, or the one where I’m awesome.
• Baxter is doing well.  He’s a tad put off by the fireworks here in our little warzone neighborhood tonight, but otherwise quite happy.
• I have discovered a new radio station that I LOVE – great NEW songs, fun old ones, and very little of the pop slop that gets repeated over and over and over and over….on other stations.
• I now own stock in iTunes from downloading new yummy songs from the above station (and can I say?  Shazam has changed my life)(Shazam is an app)(on my iPhone, for all you BB people)(I’m sure there’s a version for you, but it might not be quite as awesome)
• I celebrated Thanksgiving a couple of times and had too much food.
• Man, am I really writing about THANKSGIVING?
• Wow, I’m QUITE the blogger.
• I still miss my friend Jessica tremendously.  I think of her several times a day, and sometimes I have to remind myself that she’s really gone.  I don’t know that it will ever seem real and that I won’t tell myself that she’s just on a really awesome vacation she’d rub my nose in when she got back from.
• My Grampa passed away on this day in 1988.  Seems like forever ago and like it was just yesterday.  I miss you Gramps.  Pull a prank on Jessica for me; she’ll love it.
• As life ends, it also marches on.  I keep learning about myself and learning to let people into me, and also to let them go as they need to and also realizing that perhaps this is all for a reason.
• This is a separate post, methinks.  It will be about things that make me cry a little.  Wine will be required.
• My dear friend Chester (cute-cheffy-bacon-beer-boy) is part of an exciting new project: his food cart company, Re-Up, is opening a restaurant at the Westminster Quay early next year.
• He’s looking for investors and you can totally get on board for just $500 (I probably will)(you get free bacon)(and free Re-Up food)(seems like a no-brainer)(and maybe my new accountant can write it off)(but only if it’s legal)
• Steve Jobs died, and my computer went to shit.
• All my photos vanished (even the 487 of them from Montana this summer)
• iTunes didn’t work (Man’s info kept coming up on mine, I couldn’t update ANYTHING), and all my information came up on his BRAND NEW account (he had to ditch the old when it became permanently disabled).
• All I can say is it’s a damn good thing we’re so friendly.
• As he put it, if he were a knife wielding madman and I was hiding from him, it would have been super convenient to log into iTunes and be given my brand new address.
• Instead, he just wrote me a funny email about it that made me happy I have HIM as my ex and not anyone else.
• I still like him tons and I think it’s a good sign that I think of him fondly all the time but still stand solidly in my happy life wherein I will land with someone else at some point.
• And speaking of online dating: WTF?
• It’s been a bit yucky, so far.
• Maybe my match will jump in front of my car and I won’t have to bother with any of this dressing up and making a good impression.  It’s exhausting.  To know me is to know I live in my sweats.
• What I lack in frequency of blog posts, I make up for in content.  Right?

Have a great November – I hope I’m back before next month.

Land of Nod

I had big plans this past weekend:

Friday – Dinner and lapdancing class with girlfriends

Saturday – coaching work extravaganza (workshop brainstorm for 2012 sessions, website writing and planning, writing of collateral and products, long-term visioning….etc etc), Blue Rodeo concert in the evening.

Sunday – sleep in, attend Birthday Party, appointment with client, work some more, prepare for the week ahead

Aaaand here’s what I actually did:

Friday – Quick, gobbled-up dinner.  Attended lap dancing class - it was so much fun, and who knew what a workout it would be to slither around a chair and on the floor in heels?? 

Saturday - I slept in later than I probably have in a year, stumbled into kitchen and discovered that there was zero cream for my coffee.  Decided to walk whining dog to nearby Starbucks for emergency Venti Dark, got 2 blocks from home and the dog was gasping for breath in the heat.  Turned around.  Considered walking to store for cream, then got distracted by dirty dishes the Maid hadn’t yet washed.  Got inspired and took spare key to neighbor’s house (they were away) and stole the remaining creamer from their fridge.  Made coffee and breakfast/lunch.  Realized with dismay that it was already 1pm and that I had only 5 hours until I was picking up my date for the concert.  I started to do some reading on the sofa, made a few notes, then when my eyes started to feel heavy, I decided to take a nap.  Set alarm for 30 minutes and crashed.  Woke up with alarm, shut it off, then went back to sleep for another hour.  Or so.  Half-assed looked at the clock and considered getting up.  Dozed for a few more minutes.  Rose with some panic when I remembered my bed was not made, and was, in fact, covered in clothes that needed to be put away.  Also realized I wanted to shower and pretty up for concert.  Answered a phone call that began with “HO-LY SHIT.” which prompted much hysterical laughing and lengthy (but yummy!) debriefing of “Holy Shit” Event.  Showered, raced around, got ready, went to concert…blah, blah, blah.  Do I have a plan for 2012?  Did I cinch up all my web copy? Did I brainstorm, well, anything, beyond “What position should I sleep in next?” Is my homework done?  The answers to all of these is NO.  (Unless you consider that perhaps I dreamt about brainstorming while napping)(I am pretty certain I did not)

Sunday – slept WAY in, went for breakfast, raced with Baxter to Birthday Party in White Rock, got groceries, arrived home in time for coaching call, then sat on ass on sofa watching recorded television and editing a document for Day Job.  Again.  No joy on the coaching work. 

The lesson of the weekend (and gawd, this post is even boring ME) is that as much as I want to get done and think I will be super productive, I simply have to listen to my body when it’s tired.  I can’t make myself work when what I really want is downtime.  Case in point is the last, like, 30 Wednesday nights: I always think I’m going to finish my coaching calls then get to work, and then I usually end up napping on the sofa at 9:30, thinking I’ll wake up and work afterward.  Clearly, I am diluded, or just doing too much.

I have also been failing on the Taking Photos Front.  Here’s the lone proof that I even had a weekend:

Life

It occurs to me that I am not expected to come up with exciting content for this space like I am everywhere else I have to write, but that most of my “readers” (all 3 of you – thanks Mom!) are simply checking in to hear what I’m up to, have a little laugh at my expense, and be able to take a breather from the important Facebook surfing we all do.  Yes, admit it, you do it, too.

So here’s what I’ve been up to, in handy bite-sized bullets that you can enjoy while you watch TV:

• writing zombie Haikus with my new fridge magnet set.  The Captain bought me a set of 200 magnetized words about zombies earlier this week, and I have spent an astounding amount of time composing ridiculous 17-syllable poems about flesh eating chases.  It’s fun.  Over the past year, I have become quite nearly obsessed with impending zombie apocalypses (even though, for the life of me, I can NOT pronounce that word without sounding like I am making a bowl of popcorn in my mouth)  And I haven’t even attempted to do so after a couple of glasses of wine.  Yet.  In any case, zombies are things I think about, so much so that I am considering talking to my landlord about the lack of escape options from my apartment, particularly if they are the fast-moving sort.  Forget being able to escape from a fire, I am not interested in becoming zombie food.
• not running as much as I should be.  My right knee is, oh, a bit screwed.  I am downing glucosamine-whatever like Pez, I rested, I stretch, I ice, I rub, I whine, I wine.  It doesn’t feel nice, and I’m guessing that in a few weeks that 42k won’t, either, but I persevere.  Even if I have to half-crawl that marathon, I will do it.  It will make for a crazy improvement in my PB on my NEXT one, so it’s all good.  I am still gathering donations, and will be until May 30th (perhaps some of you need to know I have finished the damn thing before handing over your cash).  Please contact me and I will take your money.  The offer still stands that if you gather TEN donations for me (you might know richer people than I do) that I WILL TAKE YOU OUT FOR DINNER. See?  I’m awesome that way.
• hanging out with The Captain.  I will post photos when I think to find the cord, download them to my computer etc, etc, but suffice it to say, I am dating Dress-Up Guy.  He has outfits that he plans and executes and orders pieces for, and while all this is a little foreign to me, it’s fun to see what he comes up with.  The latest addition is a kilt in his family tartan, and I must say it looks FAB.  We’ve been getting up to all sorts of things and it’s all Fun and Games and Eating.  He’s also brought out some sort of fashionista in ME, and that’s been fun to explore, as well.
• embracing being a Dog Mummy.  Yes, I have been Baxter’s Mum for nearly 7 years, but now that it’s pretty much the 2 of us as a constant, our closeness has reached a new level that I quite like.  I can’t even explain how much I love that little dude.  I tell him every night (as I get on his pillow with him for a good-night belly rub) that I love him the most; that no one in the whole world loves him more than I do.  This little ritual is special to both of us.  Others are free to love him, but no one ever will more than me.
• coaching.  Certification is coming, I have a small roster of clients lined up, and I feel like I’m hitting some kind of groove. Sure, my website STILL isn’t finished, but I am realizing that maybe that doesn’t matter as much as I think, although, let’s be clear, it will be done at some point prior to June 1.
• getting rich.  I now have a Financial Planner, her name is Connor Brodie (just ASK me how awesome she is and I will talk and talk for days!), and she has drawn up a money plan for me that has me downright excited and saving surprisingly little as I get my coaching practice off the ground (PHEW!  I hate saving!)  As someone who doesn’t think about this stuff beyond just wanting to know I have Enough, I am suddenly very Invested (pun totally intended) in my financial future.  I thought I would have to have High Finance already in order for someone like Connor to help me, but that wasn’t so – she handles whatever money stuff you’ve got (or don’t). She and I are planning a VERY expensive trip to Italy in a few years, to which we’ve both allocated FIVE FIGURES for shopping.  For shoes.  And really good pizza.  We both plan to power-diet before stepping on the plan so as to be at a size deficit.  We have a plan.  See?  Amazing.
• not cooking.  I still manage to make eggs, but I leave a lot of the cooking to The Captain, even when he is in my kitchen at 10:30 making (yummy) soft tacos and it seems way to late to eat.  I do okay at filling the food hole, so you need not worry, I am not about to fade away to nothing.  Unlike Baxter, who would have you believe that he is deprived and starved and beaten and that you should immediately call the SPCA on his behalf.  Trust me.  He eats JUST fine.

If you think I am leading an ultra-exciting-hold-on-to-your-panties life here, you might be a little off.  I’m just live a life.  It’s big, and I love it, but it’s pretty level and even and perfect.  Finally.

Have a great weekend.  Let me know what you’ve been up to.  Send me your donations.

Cute, at least

I really have no idea what to write about, but strangely HERE I AM.  Drawn like Basset Hound to a tiny crumb of Milk Bone in the crack of a floor, forever obsessing and unable to walk away.  Perhaps I should write that I got up super early this morning, had some breakfast (2 eggs, over easy, with Irish Soda Bread toast from Uprising Bakery — yumm), then fell asleep again on the sofa.  What woke me up was my own snoring about an hour later.  Yes, it’s glamorous to be me.

Or I could mention that when I did poo patrol (for you non-pet people, this doesn’t refer to anything I do with my own poop…it’s the delightful daily ritual of picking up after Baxter) I used a bag that had a hole in the the bottom of it, which negated the very use for the bag at all.  It was 34 kinds of awesome to shriek as I ran back into the house to use several different smelly soaps on my hands.

It was also very Tara-ish last Thursday night: I was waiting for a coaching client to call, and had to talk to Man about a few things, so I quickly called him.  Our convesation was interrupted by my smoke alarm, which goes off for both myself and the upstairs people when either of us sets it off.  I endured the noise and waited for it to go away, remarking to Man that in the 2 months I had been there, I had only heard it go off twice.  Then it kept going, and going, and going.  I laughed it off, thinking that dinner was likely burnt upstairs.  Then I started to wonder…maybe there WAS a fire!  I stepped out of my office and saw the candle I had lit some time earlier, directly under the smoke detector…completely brilliant.  When I ran into my neighbor from upstairs last night, we both had a big ol’ laugh at our mutual antics that night as we apologized to each other for various noise violations we thought we had inflicted on each other.  She had been waving tea towels trying to get it to stop, when it was me the whole time. 

I will also mention that I am getting reacquainted with napping, and it feels really, really good.  Baxter is an eager buddy for this particular activity and we bond over it whenever we can.

My door only locks with a deadbolt (there is no latching door knob on my door), and I leave my keys in the door ALL the time.  When I am running around like a rabid, headless chicken in the mornings, frantically searching for my keys, it never occurs to me to check the door, but that is indeed where they usually are.  Criminals: come on over, it’s wide open and I’ll even leave some cookies out for you!

I put some dinner in the oven last night (Mandarin Orange Chicken from Trader Joe’s — yumm), waited and waited and waited, then when I went to check if it was almost ready, I realized I had neglected to turn the oven on.  The sad part?  This happens All.  The.  Time.

Also noteworthy is that I am the worst daughter and friend, EVAR.  I don’t call, I don’t respond or make plans to see anyone.  I am overdue for several catch-up dinners and have resorted to scheduling phone calls like I do coaching appointments.  I carry on with what I’m doing and sneak in occasional naps when I am supposed to be phoning my Mum (sorry…sad trumpet).   I keep double and triple booking my time before realizing that there is only one of me, and that the only way the silly calendar in the iPhone works is to, you know, PUT STUFF INTO IT. 

So apologies to everyone.  I can’t seem to remember to stay awake, turn on the oven (or off, for that matter)(I always wonder why the house is getting so hot, strip off some layers, then remember I was baking something 3 HOURS AGO), place candles away from FIRE DETECTORS (gah!),  pick up shit without touching it (!)(also, sadly, not the first time this happened), or have the sense to find my own keys in the lock where I left them more than 14 hours earlier.  I won’t even tell you how I lose my car in parking lots pretty much every week…Mum, let’s make an appointment soon.

On goals and Lady Gaga

Four things are on the agenda for today – chomp in:

• Back in the fall, when my marriage hadn’t quite had its plug pulled, I set a goal for myself to cut down on my Day Job hours by January in order to be able to spend dedicated time each week on my coaching practice.  Well, it’s March, but it’s happened.  I have been able to make it so I can take some time each week to work on that part of my life, and still make enough to pay for Baxter and I to eat.  It’s a corner I was very happy to turn, and you can expect some big things to be coming outa this little coach.  I talk about balance with my clients a lot, and it sometimes seems like the brass ring we all reach and reach for, but I finally feel like I have a bit more of it.  See that?  It’s the grin on my face.
• I don’t understand Lady Gaga.  Or is it Man Gaga?  I hear rumors, I see beautiful photos, and I see photos that make me recoil.  Last summer, I thought she looked like someone I knew, which is to say I thought she was fairly attractive, but now?  Whoa.  I actually saw a bus shelter ad featuring her (?) and felt a little ill.  At the same time, the person I thought she looked like has grown less attractive to me (some people become less beautiful to me when I see them carrying on in ways that aren’t flattering to them)(I hate watching women sell out and try to become someone they’re not in hopes of getting something they want)   In any case,  I’m not convinced Gaga was the most sane person to begin with; I read an article with her (Rolling Stone?) and had to constantly re-read paragraphs to even get a general idea of what she was talking about.  It was like having a conversation with a crazy person on a bus.  I’m not sure what machinery there is at work there.  Bottom line, while I like to run to Lady Gaga songs (with the exception of her newest one), that is where the admiration ends.
• I am in love with my 5-year Journal It’s a nifty thing: 1 page per day of the year (including Leapyear), separated into 5 years per page.  There are about 5 lines to write for each day, then you go to the next page for the next day and so on.  I love it because it makes me be brief. I don’t get mired in the pressure of being brilliant and poetic.  I am simply leaving behind some words about this day so that a year from now, I will remember the big idea I had, the shitty day I survived, the moments I had.  It can be used to record what you’re grateful for, what you did, what you accomplished, or whatever you wish.  It’s your journal and you get to to be the bosserooni.  Try it.
• I am still in (somewhat lazy) training for my marathon (all part of finding this elusive balance I speak about), but it is coming along.  I am allowing for the possibility that simply finishing the marathon will be enough; I have a lot of stress and things in the air, and I seem to constantly misjudge the impact on my time and energy.  I am still completely and utterly committed to my fundraising goal and have set up a website to collect donations.  PLEASE, PLEASE, pass it along and spread the word.  Special bonus: if you collect 10 donations from your network and hand them over to me, I will TAKE YOU OUT FOR DINNER.  Seriously.  Although it might be soup, I hope that counts as a meal.

So that’s it for today.  See?  I told you I’d be here more often.

 

Coming Clean

Way back when, in some fit of blogging enthusiasm, I came up with daily topics to write under.  Now we all know I don’t write here daily, and sometimes I do write and it just *happens* to fall in line with the theme I gave that particular day.  Mostly it doesn’t.  Today is “Face the Music Monday” and it was a shout-out to how diets always re-begin on Mondays, after a weekend of overindulging; a recommitment to health.  Again. 

Today, it’s a bit different. 

There’s been stuff going on that I have been keeping to myself, and it’s time to Face the Music, so to speak, and make it public.  I want to do this not to ellicit sympathy, but to make it real for myself and hopefully make it a part of how I will process this and make some forward steps.  I am also insanely sick of putting on a happy face all the time, while my brain churns and I fight back tears.  I am honest and clear and naked with the rest of my life, it seems that I should be the same with this.  I’m learning that there are good days and bad days, and good hours and bad hours, and that I can get through them all.  I am quite amazing that way.

After 14 years together, Man and I are separating, at least for awhile.  

It’s been coming on for awhile and it’s sudden, all at the same time.  It’s unexpected, but also predictable.  Man and I have had a brutally hard year together and find ourselves broken and apart, unable to come together to find the solutions we so need.  Neither of has been evil to the other; it’s just a matter of feelings that have fallen off. 

I’ve reached out to my support network, but I believe that Man has kept this largely to himself.  If you know him and this comes as a shock, then I am sorry to have broken the news this way.  I believe he will need support as we move through this, and perhaps this is a way for him to get it without having to admit to where we are.

The work has been done, the arguments have been had, the quiet words have been exchanged, and rivers of tears have been shed.  There’s no talk of the “D” word just yet, but we’re at in impass and feel that some distance and time to gain some huge perspective will serve us both well.  I remain optimistic that we may come together at some point, stronger than before, but I also accept that we may just be fortified to be on our own as we move on.   I continue to love him and respect him tremendously, and both of us are absolutely committed to preserving the partnership we have forged over the years; it’s still made of iron.

Yes, we did JUST buy a big, lovely house, and for various reasons, we’ll continue to share it, in separate rooms, taking advantage of some very busy work and travel schedules over the next 4-6 weeks to stay out of each other’s way.  We have lived this way for a long time, in many ways, and it actually feels okay to have perameters around how this will work.  We’re both okay.

I dreamt last night that I wrote my name on all my eggs in the fridge, much like a horrible room-mate would do, but I doubt I’ll have to resort to that in reality.  Although, perhaps I should turn into this Nightmare Chick I lived with for a year and stop using soap!  Ha!  She was not a pleasant person.

Baxter remains loved and doted upon; he still gets plenty of walks and scratches behind the ears.  He has been behaving like a star; when he accidentally pulls something down from the counter to eat, he quickly realizes the error and saves us the trouble by running downstairs and punishing himself. 

I am letting go of things I always wanted and dreamt of, and am working through what this new scene looks like.  It’s terrifying to be thinking this way after such a long time togther, yes, but I know anything worth getting is worth working for.  All this work will lead somewhere quite satisfying, no matter where it actually is.  I am focusing on my coaching practice, my own wellness, and the things I DO have control over, and predictably, this does help.  I am also getting well aquainted with the occasional glass of wine, bag of Hallowe’en candy, and the less-than-occasional bowl of ice-cream (apparently it can solve anything, so I am trying to determine if that is true – I will let you know the results of the study).

Forgive me if I repeat myself. I’ve been here before.

Or, “even this coach needs a coach”

Oy.

It’s been a busy summer, and I’ve put a lot on the back burner.  I concentrated on moving, paying attention to my relationships, and having a little down-time.  I worked with clients and (I hope) did well by their agendas and forward momentum, but sacrificed my own in the process.  It’s left me feeling like I’m a fraud floundering in a drained swimming pool.  How is that I can coach my clients to greatness and bigness in their lives, but I have completely lost sight of where I am going?

I had aggressive goals this year: 4 half marathons, a certain number of coaching clients, courses I wanted to take etc.  I am meeting some of my goals, but not all, and it’s making me crazy.

I can’t be sure if it’s about time management, but I know it partly is.  It’s not all about having way too many shiny-fun interests, but that’s a big part.  It’s not that I’m a perfectionist, but I sure as hell do ask a lot of myself and allow very few excuses.

The frustrating part for me is that I have totally been here before.  I take on too much, I go like a mad woman for months then crash and have to pick up the pieces.  Man is bearing the brunt of my angst, as I frequently get all Chicken Little on his ass and stand sobbing in my pyjamas whining about how I don’t have time to do all I want to. Waaaa, waaa, waaa.  I’d slap me, if I were him..

What it’s left me with is being “stuck” – something I hear from clients all the time.  So I am thinking of some refresher sessions with my own coach so I can get what I need, and that is out of my own damn way.  As I’ve landed in this particular heap before, I know the drill; get some input, get a kick in the ass, spend an evening in a coffee shop figuring it out, and then bloody get on with it.  The complaining and actual being stuck seem to be getting me something, but I’ve decided I don’t like it anymore.  I have important work to do; my existing clients deserve the best me, and the ones to come aren’t going to find me as I wallow in my yellow flannel pjs.

Have you ever not walked the talk?  What did you do?

House Tales

It all started in May.  I got home from visiting some friends for the weekend, and Man handed me one of those MLS flyers for a house up the street.  He thought we should go look at it.  I scoffed, laughing off the big price tag, but came around soon enough with wanting a little peek inside.  We called our realtor and arranged it.

We’d been toying with selling and moving for a long time, never intending to stay the seven years we had in the townhome – our neighbor was driving us Mad, the train nose was still waking us up and interupting conversations, and it wasn’t fun anymore.

Our first visit to the house was fairly brief, but given the opportunity, and a more impulsive husband, I likely would have signed an offer on the spot: big, open layout, all on two floors, big kitchen, yard, hot tub….etc etc.  We loved it.  We slept on it.  We visited other houses on the market to see what the comparables were.  We slept on it some more.  We visited it again.  We thought some more.  We made an offer on Thursday, June 17, and it was accepted.  I was at a yoga class while it all went down, and came out to find my iPhone exploding with texts from Man: call me call me call me call me!

June 22nd – a second offer was accepted on the same house, so we had 48 hours to remove our subjects, make the bank comfortable with us owing for two houses and a LOT of money, inspections, appraisals etc.  We did it.  With an hour and half to spare, we did it.  The house was ours.

Meanwhile, the townhouse was listed, was being shown, but the bottom was falling out of the market.  Crap.  We staged, and cleaned, and vacated, over and over and over again.  Exhausting.  Poor Baxter’s routine was upside down and he was feeling persecuted for shedding.

August 31 – we took possession and I clung to it.  I moved as much as I could to make it a liveable home as quickly as I could.  We sat on furniture we had in storage, we lived without all the stuff still staged in the other house. We waited.

After an offer that went down the toilet, we received another, and it was good.  SOLD!  Then not so much!  We moved all of our furniture anyway, then changed out the carpets to make it look buyable (word to the wise: dogs are not gentle on houses!)

Finally, we have furniture, we have each other, and we have a Home.  We love it here.  Money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy a home to be happy in.  There is still loads to do, and many, many before-and-afters to follow, but here are a few snaps (taken with iPhone, as camera cord is still AWOL):

Entrance etc - Master Bedroom is the door at the top right

Great Room, with Baxter

Kitchen, obviously.

Now, we get settled, and I start thinking about the next goals, plans and strategies.  It’s time to return to my school work, coaching practice (so sorry I neglected you!) and the enjoying of life.  It’s grand.