And so it goes.

Blogging is something I love. Yet, I am unable to find the time to sit and write as often as I would like. I honestly do not take (that should read MAKE) the time to blog as often as I should. Life happens. And quite frankly, sometimes it is a little tough to give it my undivided attention. My brain is crammed full of thoughts of my family and their well-being, literature, my students' progress, lesson plans, social distancing, song lyrics, music notes that are tough to recall, and on-going worries. Throw in several mugs of tea a day and the shittiest sleep schedule ever, and you have captured me in a nutshell. I am a work in progress. I could paraphrase scripture but will merely say that I need to pray and connect with Him more.

As I look back over the posts on my blog, I take pride in the words that appear before me. A generally positive person by nature, perhaps one of my noted flaws would concern the ability to see the positive in just about all things. Some posts have been about memories of people and times gone past. When I look at other writings, there seems to be a common thread woven. Many of my musings delve into my proclaimed knack for self-reflection. The weeping version of myself that sought out the help of a counsellor at the Mental Health Unit of the Labrador West Health Centre on Saturday, March 13th would beg to differ. The sliding doors were unlocked as the cleaning staff was on duty. I was bawling so hard when I appeared at the office, the counsellor who heard me ring the little bell and subsequently appeared never redirected me to the out-patients department.  (She let me know afterwards that is where I should have gone to be connected with her - the counsellor on duty.) I pulled out my MCP card to further identify myself. I have since apologized to her about the state of epic proportions I was in. Since that fateful day, I have gone on to see her a total of three times. I will once again occupy the chair in her office tomorrow after school. That is something for a woman who was adamant about not needing to seek a professional’s guidance. As grateful as I am for the chats I have shared with people ranging from my family, some friends, and the Outreach Worker at school, I knew that something had to give. My shoulders are big, my resolve is powerful, but I now fully understand the expression: “it’s okay not to be okay." That said, I am sure as heck not going to unpack to reside there. 

While I recognize my many blessings and the things I have to be thankful for, I understand that I need to take some time for myself. I have a few things I need to work through. And I am 100% certain that I need to remove people from my thoughts that do NOT have a right to be there. As I affirmed back in the Fall, “I am no longer available for things that make me feel like shit.” I have to own it fully this time. And thanks to my counsellor, I have been made further aware that the mindfulness I practice already is an integral step in finding balance again. Tips and resources from her are now a part of the equation to help me get back to a calmer state of existence.

I am a quirky extroverted introverted type who has no qualms really about expressing herself. It has been something to experience the moments of silence that have occurred in the counsellor’s office. The moments of silence are interrupted by my tears as the levee breaks. The poor woman, in those moments, has served as a guide encouraging me through my words as they rush forth following that release. And throughout the hour and fifteen-minute sessions, the whole process starts, stops, and repeats. It has been an incredible thing to be a part of and experience. 

As a mild asthmatic, I sometimes need to use an inhaler to help my lungs function better. My encounters with counselling to date should be referenced and discussed as frankly as I speak of the breathing difficulties I experience. It has been hard to be at my best in my personal life when I feel, at times, that I am pouring from an empty cup. My family deserves so much more. I do as well.  

At this stage of my post, it would almost feel appropriate to say, “Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.” Another part of me cannot help but feel this post would have been more suited to Mental Health Awareness week. It is never too late or too soon to embark on a new journey. Perhaps this is not a journey as much as it is a helpful way to give me some tips and strategies to cope as I continue on my way.

I know my reflections resulted in a few eye rolls. Others might have spent some time deliberating where I am coming from. And if I know some members of my audience as well as I think I do, various versions of smartphones have been picked up to frantically text, “Oh my God! What’s Margaret getting on with now?” Wouldn't it be easier to come to the source? And those who did not read my post closely will draw their conclusions. Please let me make one thing clear: I do not waste my words. I am always as straight up and honest as I can be in my exchanges. The intention of my writing here was not to garner attention. The words of this developing chapter of my life had been waiting to take shape. All it took was some reflection for the keystrokes that have resulted in the many phrases I see before me. 

And so it goes.