Unleashed

A couple weeks ago, plans with my sister changed due to weather and we decided on a rain check. Looking at the overcast sky and the drizzle sprinkling the back deck, I was about to settle for a day indoors when I realized, it was perfectly still. No wind rustled the leaves of the trees. The air was thick and humid, the smell of the rain soaking into the earth, ripe. Feeling the discontemtment with the possibility of an indoor day, I gave into my urge to be outside and on the water. After all, I was on day two and a half of the eighty two hours I had to myself and I wanted to use this time to unleash myself from my usual routine. There was to be no cooking or cleaning up during this time and knowing that this unusually hot weather (no matter how strange) in Canada should not be taken for granted, I didn’t want to spend all my time at home. The confirmation that I had to get out and do something came from my reflection in the mirror while brushing my teeth. I was checking out the mop of curls atop my head (no hair appointments during covid), and looking at the transformation my hair has been undergoing. In my case, dark strands are turning red and over time, red to yellow before settling into a permanent state of white. Unlike my face, my hair isn’t deceiving when it comes to my age and nothing says get out and utilize your time like graying hair. I got in line with a parade of SUV’s at Starbucks and treated myself to a fancy coffee; went back home, changed and threw my paddle board gear and my stuff (wallet, phone, water bottle, comb, towel and a cotton slip-on dress) in the car and headed for the beach. Listening to lyrics being belted out by Amy Lee and other thought inspiring music streaming via Bluetooth, I was really inside my head, watching the road, of course, but thoughts a million miles away. When I have downtime from work and my family I spend a lot of time thinking deeply about my life, the world and my place in it. Like everything else over the years, in moments like these I recognize how much the deep thinking has changed. I remember times of solitude whether I was driving or just sitting on the deck, my thoughts would would classify more as worry or concern …concern over my autistic child’s future, concern for my other child, my husband, my parents, my marriage, my ever changing ways of making a living…it was all based on concern and problem solving. Now, at 54, I’m in the roller coaster carriage going up the last couple not-so-steep inclines of the ride of life and my deep thoughts bring a smile to my face and peace to my soul. This is the we’ve-made-it-through-the-toughest-times incline and it is the one where we get to experience and truly appreciate the things that make us feel love, happiness and gratitude and although everything that goes up must come down and I know there will be loss and sadness to bear, the ride will plateau and eventually come to an end. If it ends with me feeling the way I feel now, then I would have succeeded in truly living.

As I drove through the county’s winding road to my destination, I appreciated the gift this region was to me and my family. I have never warmed to the town we settled in after having lived in some of Canada’s most fabulous cities. I have never understood or accepted the cliquish and rather frivolous nature of the people who were born and bred here but I’ve learned to live my life in this small place while keeping the small minded at arm’s length. The county is home to some of the best vineyards in the country and best stretches of beach front, cosy coves, inlets of Lake Ontario. Being from the Caribbean, the Provincial Parks in my area draw me to their shallow clear waters and white sands. It feeds my passion to play in the water and hear the shushing of waves as I’d done in mychildhood, albeit without that briny taste of the ocean so dear to me. This piece of perfect real estate is one of the reasons I am able to continue living here. 

In spite of the grey skies and spotty showers, the colours of the vegetation along the way were vibrant and lush and I could see that there was no turbulance on the water in spite of the rain. The water was flat and almost motionless like a sheet of glass and the beaches were not crowded but they weren’t deserted either. It seemed, like me, people were intent on having their day at the beach in spite of the weather. Some people took shelter from the rain grilling their food under pop up tents or canopies while others were enjoying being in the warm water, being baptised by the rain.

I inflated my board and paddled out into serenity, my oar slicing through the water, the sound of tiny ripples overiding the ambiance of music, people chatting and kids playing. It didn’t matter that the drizzle had turned into a shower. It was peaceful and where I needed to be. Not having much experience as a paddle boarder, the initial tense legs and overly engaged core were now relaxed and I was looking ahead at the scenery and not at the water. I thought about the last seventeen months of this global pandemic and what it had done to the world. I thought of all the suffering and death it caused and while I recognize and acknowledge our privilege and good luck, I thought of what it did to my sons. I thought of how their goals screeched to a halt, shattering everything they were planning to do post high school. My sons are on the brink of independent adulthood and 2020 was supposed to be the year that bore the fruits of their labour. But, instead, like everyone,they had to wait and wait and wait some more. They had to find ways to stay motivated and positive and the toll it took on both their mental well-being was overwhelming, especially for my autistic son. And then came change. Some much needed relief in the form of vaccines. Now fully vaccinated, we can do a bit more. We can gather with a select few and we can be outdoors and we can get a taste of the daily life we took for greanted. Two strokes to the left, two to the right I’d covered a decent distance from my spot on the beach. “We did it,” I thought and a smile came to my face. We made it through the toughest sixteen months of our lifetime; especially my sons, especially Adam. We followed the protocol, we kept our distance from everyone outside our family and we found a way to make the lockdowns worthwhile. Those were the good days. I taught the boys how to cook, their father showed them their way around power tools and home renos, they studied, they trained and we all stayed healthy. And then there were the difficult days, especially for Adam. After all those the days when his inability to communicate what was bothering him resulted in destruction and pain, just like the rest of us, he made it through. One stroke on the right, one on the left, I kept paddling and I felt my shoulders drop and the tightness disappear and in that instant I realized that we’re all okay and everything with everyone I love was as it should be.

The pandemic is not over and it will be a while before we have a handle on Covid 19. There is a lot going on in the world along with Covid 19 and it’s repercussions. The climate has changed and the west of our country is burning, while tornados touch down in South West Ontario and Northern Ontario is on fire too. Greece is burning. Germany is flooding. California is burning again and it is easy to think that our planet is just going to turn to ash one day, but in that moment, as I paddled, I was able to unleash it all and let it go. And I felt it leave me too. You see, I might not be able to change the world, but I can do my part; I can do my best to not add to the problems that plague our world. There is still a lot of good and a lot of beauty to behold and therefore, there is hope in spite of all our problems. 

One stroke to the right, one to the left, over and over and over until I felt like I was floating on a cloud rather than on water. I thought of the love of my life and our love that has deepened over the years and how much more I love him each and every day in ways I never knew existed. Paddle left. Paddle right. Love, like life,has evolved. Love is easy, always available and is uncomplicated at my age. Marriage, like me on my board, floats, bobbing over ripples easily. Marriage, is friendship, comfort and well…its home, welcoming me with open arms everytime and it’s where I want to be. Children are grown and starting their adult lives and we are starting a new chapter together that still includes and cares about our boys, but is mainly focused on us and the time we will spend together until one of us leaves this life.

Like a loud noise, or a flash of lightening, a jet ski’s motor and heavy wake disrupted my peaceful thoughts. My board bobbed and wobbled on the waves and I lost my balance and plunged into the water as did two screaming little girls from a paddle board about 80 metres away. Beginners all, the sudden waves made it difficult to pull ourselves back onto our boards. The more I tried, the more my legs bobbed and kicked the more tangled my leash became in the tall weeds. A strong swimmer, even with a life jacket, I grew tired. I stopped. I took a breath. What was the plan? Looking into the water, I could barely see my foot. Reaching down I tried to remove the velcro ankle cuff. What a bitch that was! Who knew weeds were that thick and strong? Third time was the charm. With my foot free, I tried to mount the board again, but when I pushed my weight onto it, the tail of the board would sink because the leash tethered it so strongly onto the weeds. I was tired. I was done with this shit. I reached up and unhooked the leash from the board and glided towards the shore. I glanced over at the kids whose father had come into the water to detangle their leash from the weeds and bring them to shore. They left their leash behind too but they were safe. I hoisted myself onto the board and lay face up. A big breath released the tiredness and frustration of dealing with the weeds. I was unleashed. I was free. So, I lost a thirty dollar leash. Whatever. It was holding me back. Binding me to disgusting, prickly, slimy, octopus- arm-like weeds. Weighing me down. I remember my cousin Nicole would say, “just free it, Danie. Free it” and I did and everything was so much better. 

Sometimes You Have to Unsubscribe

Wait. You know what? Hold on a minute. Just STOP. Time to unsubscribe.

Things are good for us lately and we were really enjoying this time and now, stuff that doesn’t belong to us has come into our lives and taken up too much head space and have eaten into our free time. I caught myself grinding my teeth the other day. Not forcefully but when I noticed I was doing it, I realized that not only did I have a headache that radiated upwards from my jaw, it was doing this sliding motion of my bottom row of teeth against my top in a weird pattern. I stopped myself and thought “Why l am I doing this? I’m having a great day,” and then I realized this new activity was now a part of my day, any day, whether it was good bad or otherwise. Since then, I have been consciously stopping myself from doing it. My husband and I have found ourselves in the very trying sandwich generation.So many times we begin to do very basic things that relax us, give us a laugh and give us time for ourselves and we have to stop because this stuff that is not ours, needs immediate attention. My husband and I have had very little down time lately. Launching young men into adulthood and dealing with family on his side and my side has taken a lot of time. Even carving out time to be a couple has been difficult and lately it seems that being at work is the only time we are alone together, but of course, we are working.

When it comes to Adam and Logan, we are more understanding because we are working with them to help them become the men they want to be. While we are not responsible for what they ultimately do with their lives, we are responsible for helping lay the platform from which they will be launched. From helping Logan get ready for his driving test and getting Adam ready to live independently of us, it’s a busy time but we are are up for these rites of passage and are happy and proud to do it as we watch the remarkable story of their lives unfold. What is difficult is finding ourselves being tugged at in other directions without anyone stopping to recall that even though we work for ourselves, we still have to work. The other thing that people forget is that we don’t have a typical family set up. When we have do do anything, we still have to plan our every move around how it will affect our autistic son, Adam.

I imagine that if we did not run our family like a well oiled machine, things would be different. If we seemed to have nothing under control, less would be required of us. What amazes me is that in spite of the stumbling blocks we have been dealt by Adam’s autism, we manage to require little to nothing of others who need far less oil to run their machines, just as well or better than ours. Don’t misunderstand my words. We willingly accept being available to others and we are happy to help and be there in times of need and give of ourselves but it is hard to bear when people are not mindful. It is frustrating when we offer solid, sensible advice that can solve a problem and it goes unheeded. It is tiresome when denial prolongs the implementation of effective solutions. It is simply insensitive when we re-arranged our schedule in order to help out and our assistance is met with resistance. Again, don’t misunderstand what I am saying. We have received many wonderful blessings from people along our journey and we are grateful, but when things become too intrusive, when our schedules are stretched thin incorporating the stuff that does not belong to us, we occasionally have to unsubscribe.

It may seem selfish, but unsubscribing, I have found, is a good way to keep myself and my family whole and to keep myself and my husband healthy. Unsubscribing is a good way for me to free enough energy and mental space for the things I like to do,which I have to put on hold sometimes for far too long when I have to tend to the stuff that does not belong to me. Unsubscribing also helps me keep myself functioning at a level I am comfortable with. At 52, there are just somethings in the world I do not need to know how to do.There are some things that I just don’t want to do anymore. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone and I need less possessions and obligations in my life. I am happy to learn and try new things but I am not out to ace every undertaking. I can’t support every cause, can’t attend every event and can’t and won’t do more than I can do. I don’t need recognition, glorification or adoration. I just seek occasional stillness and I enjoy peace. I believe It’s okay to be aware of things around you without trying to be an expert at everything. I am satisfied that I can only slightly better the world by bettering myself and if today was my last day, I would be sad to leave my loved ones but satisfied that I lived a good life even if I didn’t get to do and see all that I’d hoped.

Unsubscribing keeps me checked in with myself and keeps me authentic. Authenticity is important to me because social media has created specific moulds where people tend to get stuck. I like social media but it is a beautiful yet dangerous forum I can only take it in small doses on a fairly superficial level. I like that I am able to stay in touch with people who live far away from me but I don’t like that it gives too many people a distorted sense of confidence that allows them to to use words and photos to either laud their privileges over others or bring them down. I like social media when I get see the great things my friends’ kids have done, or see nice photos of people having fun. When it comes to the “hot topics” on social media, I unsubscribe. I have my political, social and religious views that I share discreetly with a chosen few because engaging in banter on line with people who speak before thinking is a waste of precious time. There are days I unsubscribe from brain aching, teenage drama and arguments, I love Adam and Logan but sometimes when hormones shoot wildly and crash down around me, I have to unsubscribe to stay sane. Puberty crashing into menopause can yield a lot of casualties and is messy to clean up …so … I unsubscribe and try negotiations another time. My husband and I have also learned to unsubscribe when people who ask for our opinion or advice are not satisfied until we tell them what they want to hear. No one really wants advice. People want the satisfaction of the support of their often bad idea. When I regurgitate what you have said to me, or when I say “I don’t know”, I’ve unsubscribed…not because I don’t care about you but because I care enough about myself to not let your stubbornness drive me crazy. If you are an adult, you can figure out what you need to do or choose what you want to do without my input. Make your choice and move on set and secure in your decision. I only ask that if it does not work, you go back to the drawing board and try to remedy it yourself before interrupting my day.

I love everyone enough to let them carve out their own path. I try hard to not judge or question people’s motives. When I feel I have to unsubscribe, I do so out of love for them and out of love for myself and to avoid tension and conflict. In life, everyone needs a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear. Tom and I don’t mind giving that support but we can’t help, or listen or decipher issues for others every time something goes pop in their lives. It is tempting to get involved and tangled up in a web of emotion when it comes to helping family and friends but it is far better to unsubscribe, step back and give a person time to think things through on their own and give them space to change and grow. So, the next time you catch yourself clenching your fists, gritting your teeth, furrowing your brow or biting your nails, be kind to yourself and unsubscribe for a while.