it is the little things

This week was the challenging week in the life of my reno. I never wanted to complain because it is just the most exciting thing I can’t possibly believe it is happening for me


I have not been in my living room since June as all the furniture from the rest of the main floor is piled to the ceiling in there. This week the fridge and stove moved in there too. I have gone without power, water, washer and dryer  and kitchen throughout  and at varying intervals in the last two months. The dust is post apocalyptic and the charm of half a dozen people named Joe or Frank in my home at all hours was wearing thin.

Did I forget to mention I run a small art school for children out of my home?

but then a friend arrived with these, my very favourite flowers, and suddenly I could see the future.

BOO! read trick or tramp my latest post on my other blog by clicking here


In the morning before I wake completely, I feel unsure about what my life is. It is not blissful but blank in those fuzzy, almost awake moments. Then suddenly and with precision, the animal claws its way into my thoughts announcing the truth. A black blanket, deep and thick but not warm covers me completely. My mouth opens wide , I make no sound but I feel myself cry. It is so deep that it does not resemble other cries.  Mouth stretched open, eyes closed, no sound. Help me, I hear myself say.

It is a time that is so extremely difficult that life floats blurry around me. I look at my daughters. I would give them anything I could to make them happy. But I can’t give them the family they want. They want it so badly. I feel it like a  magnetic pull; it is what they know and it feels right. This sharp knife twists through me.

Exhaustion is a gift as it forces sleep. Sleep allows me to leave my life, my difficulties and my sadness. I go to bed early because at 4:30 I will wake, as though by alarm clock, to file and sort and take apart all the issues. They swirl in a stew and each morsel is pulled out, looked at and analyzed and thrown back in. I push the stew away but it has feet and runs back to me. It is so close to my side I feel it’s heat.

The loneliness is hard to explain. It is bigger and blacker than I expected. It feels like it has no end. In it there is profound disappointment, abandoned dreams, shame and a sadness worse than death. it is a death. A death of what I hoped for and believed in. The layers do not end, they seem to reproduce. Their taste is sour and sharp.

I wrote this to myself four years ago the morning after I separated. It was a bleak  moment for me and a hard one to share here and even now  but it is important. Even in this darkness I knew there was light. Right away the universe began supporting me for the right choice.

I sometimes think people believe that we leave marriages easily without trying, without sadness and without remorse. It is the hardest decision to come to even when you must.

read more from me on my other new post called “Ground Zero” by clicking here.


“Language created the word “loneliness” to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word “solitude”  to express the glory of being alone.”

This caught my eye. It is rare to see one seat anywhere and yet  at many times we are all alone. Being alone can be beautiful and healing. It can be scary and painful. It can be necessary. It can make people do stupid things in order to avoid it. It can worry us and make us feel freakish. It can help create meaningful art. It can mend a broken heart. It can offer silence.

It can help make you ready to let someone pull up a chair beside you.

check out my new post on my other site called Piss me off- skimping the cheese by clicking on this