So it turns out after all the thinking, therapy, and self observation, I am back to worrying too much again. Now I never turned it completely off, I am human, but I was wondering why my shoulders and neck are hurting. Again. It usually means I am worrying too much. So to get back on track I have to purposely remind myself not to do it and if I start doing it I have to catch myself and stop. Sounds easy for some as they are not worriers. More difficult for me.

If I listed all of the things that I have worried about in the past 3 weeks, or even the past week, you would be bored scrolling down through it. So, like an alcoholic's first step, I figure outing myself publicly is my first step towards being a non-worrier. At the very least, when you see me next time in deep thought, or frowning, then you can nudge me and remind me to stop it. Or send me a text. I say that now but you know you don't have to send me a text. Talking is still a socially acceptable way to interact, I think (this is another rant in the making).

With all of the time that will be freed up by not worrying I think I may actually sit down and write more. For some reason I moved away from it and it actually helps me worry less. It makes me happy in fact. Now I wonder why it does that? Hmmmmmmm.....

My schooling has led me to this....

The last first day of high school is happening tomorrow. Everyone asks "where did the time go?" for a reason. We simply do not get enough time. Not with our loved ones, our family, our friends. No one has ever complained about having too much time with their loved ones, not in my case anyway. I wish I could have another chat with my grandparents (or have my first one with a Pop that I never got the pleasure to meet). I would give a lot to hear my Uncle Abe's laugh or my Nan's giggle. Or see Nan Rowe smile. To have tea with my Pop. To be able to see Roland's face one more time as he sees Jacob. To have Dad ask "how is my favorite daughter?" and then laugh at his own dry jokes. I would give just about anything. My list of friends is getting longer too.

To hear my son's little boy voice ( I am guilty of watching digital footage of him over and over as a little baby and boy). And now Grade 12 is upon us. What the hell? I looked away too quickly. I took my eye off the ball. How did this happen?

I am so proud of him, The man he is becoming makes me burst. My heart walks around the house casually talking about cell phones, star constellations and coffee like he's not important, not the centre of the universe. But he would say he'd like to be with a grin. Not enough time. Before I know it graduation and then the big life event will occur and he'll walk out that door with a smile and full of excitement. His life will begin. I hope this year drags by slowly like cold molasses running up a hill. Maybe it will give me enough time to get used to it.

Adjusting to life off the rock gets harder and harder every year we come from vacation. The air was cleaner, more people were kinder, the fish was amazing, people are genuine, spending time laughing, crying, hugging, chatting with family and friends is a slice of joy and peace. Seeing Jacob laugh more, smile more, enjoy the beaches, the hugs, the home cooked meals in wonderful company is also a joy. Makes the heart swell like the ocean.

I was missing Dad and Roland yet I saw them everywhere. In memories jogged by those around around me, by family members, by everyday items, by hearing myself repeat certain phrases or jokes. That helped.

Thank goodness for vacations, thank goodness we were born in Newfoundland.

Moving forward

God, this has been a crazy week. I have to write. I have to give voice to the realizations from this week. Learning through the chaos, the tragedy is the only way I know how to move forward. I have cried, I have sat in shock. Crying and dwelling does nothing for me personally in moving forward. Action does move me forward.

My family and I have had discussions. We visited the Memorial and were moved by the quiet, the gentleman who kissed the monument, the gentle politeness, the communal grief shared amongst us. We donated money in the name of the families and I want to donate more.

Writing has allowed me to ease the sorrow. What have you been feeling? Doing to move forward?

When the books fall off the shelf......

I believe the "books started to fall off the shelf" for me the day my husband dropped dead at work (he was a soldier in the military at the time). His 5 co-workers saved his life that day with CPR and doctors and nurses saved it again and again. My life was saved that day by experiencing this traumatic event. My heart broke open and I woke up. We had an amazing life and family life leading up to this day but after that day I felt like I was now really living. I now know what is truly important to the core of myself. My husband survived a massive cardiac arrest. a subsequent brain injury with the help of our family, our friends and our military community.

My husband, son and I dared greatly and thrived over time with this experience. My husband medically released from the military last year and just graduated with IT tech diploma and will return to school in the fall to do a IT security diploma. My son is now a 16 year old with a wise brain and loving heart. After taking care of my husband that first year after his heart attack, I went looking for a job. The book fell off the shelf - I got a job at Military Family Services helping other military families (the goal I set for myself in the hospital) and have to continued to work for military members and their families through the good and tough times in their lives.

I am grateful for this learning, post traumatic growth.

Living an authentic life is all the rage - through Oprah's shows with Gary Zukav, Brene Brown, the list goes on. Ever since I moved off the island I have heard all sorts of comments and stories. "We love Newfoundlanders!", "I love your accent" and "Newfoundlanders are the nicest people" for example. As time went on and we moved from province to province or territory and from city to city I grew older with a great appreciation for going "home" once a year. Something my hubby and I were both drawn to do after we got married and even more so after we had our baby.

Being connected to our family and friends on the rock wasn't just a choice, it was a requirement in order to breathe again, relax and rejuvenate and of course reconnect with our upbringing, our selves. And these days I realize Newfoundlanders have been born and bred in authenticity. we are our authentic selves. Now there may be outliers but I don't remember having too many fake conversations, or being witness to fakeness. People are self confident, with healthy self esteem and they speak the truth. Home.

The fact that this article caught my eye and I had to read it reminded me that this is not the direction I thought my life would take, I had not anticipated after 14 years of marriage that my hubby would go through such a traumatic event, that our family and friends would too. I had not anticipated the fight but I imagined the comeback. The successes, the joy. Not every day is easy, and on any given day one or two or all 3 of us have a difficult day but we get through it together. Thinking about this adventure together, it is the glue between the three of us and all of the support that surrounds us that lifts us up. It's not just about surviving now, it's about living.

Last night I was happily surprised (again) about Jason's recovery in this journey. And it never really hit me until this morning. Crying in the bathroom quietly I fully realized that he was there for me in a way I hadn't heard in almost 6 years. We were talking about things and he was actively listening, supporting me, came and sat by me and was fully there, backing me up. I took this for granted for 17 years. Never again.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/health/organ-donation-after-cardiac-death-1.2577269