Goodbye Oakview!!

“Today is the last drive to Oakview,” I say to the tired and sleepy 14 year-old in the passenger seat as we approach the middle school’s parking loop. I have driven through this loop a countless number of times to deliver forgotten lunches or instruments, take the kids to school when they missed the bus, or picked them up from art club. But today is the last time I will be taking this route.

I am filled with a sense of melancholy. Oakview Middle School has been Tracy’s home for the last three years and was the home of his brother for the three years before him. So for the past six years Oakview has been my home too. It has been the building that has housed, formed and grown my two teenage sons. It has been the venue in which I chaperoned Friends and Fun nights and attended band concerts and award ceremonies. It has employed the teachers who I have come to know through emails and conferences and field trips.

No one could have expected the last day at the school to look like this. Unlike every other last day of school there is not a mess of students crowding the halls, giving high fives, and furiously trying to get in one last yearbook signing. There is not a gathering of parents and teachers and administrators clapping for the 8^th graders as they exit the doors of the school for the last time, a time-honored tradition of the Lake Orion School system. There is not a train of yellow buses lined up to take their progeny home for the last time.

Today the school looks lonely. There’s a smattering of cars in the parking lot but not a person or student in sight. I’m not surprised. Because of COVID-19 the school had to assign blocks of time for the kids to come to school to clean out their lockers, and Tracy had the early morning slot. He hasn’t seen this time of day in months. From the lack of students I can assume his peers with last names that begin with A-B haven’t either.

He puts on his mask and picks up his bag of books and band music and carries them into the school where he will empty the contents into bins along the wall and then fill the bag up again with the contents of a school locker he hasn’t seen in three months. Who knows what lurks in there?

As I sit in the parking lot and wait for him, a wave of sadness rolls over me. I am surprised – I did not expect to be so affected by this one little drive. As far as I was concerned school was over three months ago. But the enormity of this moment, that I won’t be coming back, that my baby is going to be in high school next year (and my oldest will be a senior!!) threatens to unmoor me.

When Michael finished 8^th grade there was a plethora of activities to mark the occasion: the color run, Lewis and Clark days, 8^th grade band concert, awards ceremony, and 8^th grade celebration. It was a time of finality; there was a day when we could say “You’re done with middle school; now you’re an official high schooler.” With Tracy, we did not get that closure. He had none of those celebrations, for, due to COVID-19, his last true day of school was March 12^th.

So much has happened in his three years here. From my safe place in the parking lot I look into the 6^th grade hallway and think back to the beginning of middle school, when that small kid asked me to attend his orientation day (the parents were invited) for moral support. I watched as his happy smile engaged others; he was eager to make new friends and learn new things. I saw the pride he felt in turning in his trumpet for the much harder oboe. I listened as he told me the names of the friends in his classes.

As I stare at the mural on the inside of the school that says “Be Awesome Today!” I remember all the great teachers Tracy has had, from his 6^th grade science teacher who told us how much she enjoyed Tracy’s vibrancy and color to this year’s math teacher who went above and beyond to make sure he was finally put in the math class that was right for him. Some of these teachers I have known for 6 years because Michael had them too. What great leadership Tracy has had as role models, especially the principal who sent a weekly newsletter home to parents telling us how awesome our kids are and how much she enjoyed being a part of their lives. I will miss her positive attitude and those newsletters, sigh.

Even though I feel sad, I’m kind of glad it’s over. Middle school is a soup of stinky, moody, angry, and sad hormones that push and pull kids like taffy, stretching them in every way and causing a lot of mental, emotional, and physical growth. Even though Tracy made new friends and learned a ton of new things, these past three years haven’t been easy on him, especially this last one. The school year of 2019-2020 doled out more heartbreak for the 8^th graders of Oakview than almost anyone can bear in a lifetime.

Just as they were getting into the stride of their last year of middle school they had to pause in their learning about math and science and study a subject that had not been in the curriculum – death and loss. In November a dear classmate suddenly and tragically lost her life, and so they had to deal with incredible grief and sadness. Tracy took it particularly hard because he had known her since Kindergarten.

As winter progressed I saw as he tried to regain some sense of normalcy at school, but could tell that he and many of his peers were just done, clocked out of school permanently. Perhaps it was too much to look upon the empty chair of their friend every day. Enough was enough, or so they thought.

In March the pandemic hit and middle school was over just like that, a pause that caused the 8^th graders to shift their way of being once again. Kids who thrive on being around their friends were stuck home with their parents, having to do “optional” homework and attend “suggested” online classes, another level of new normal. Despite the warm, loving and caring presence (both in person and online) of the Oakview teachers and principal, the grief, loss, tragedy, and challenges of this year have molded him and his peers in a way that I don’t think we can even yet define.

However, if there’s anything I have learned from Tracy and his class of 2024, it’s that when you get knocked down you keep getting up, again and again and again. That’s resilience, a term that has been used for his class. I think it is apt, for these kids have had to face many challenges, and will most likely continue to do so as even the near future is a relative unknown.

This year has been hard on everyone. We are living through difficult and turbulent times. School is not ending in the manner we’re used to, loads of people are unemployed, the virus threatens to linger for months if not years, and there is civil unrest throughout our country and in the world. Uncertainty is spreading as fast as the virus.

But I have hope for the future, because I know that in a few months’ time school will begin again, high school, a new chapter for Tracy and his peers. And while we don’t know yet what that schooling will look like, we do know the students will continue on their path of learning anyway. Because they are brave, tough, and resilient.

I watch Tracy come down the stairs, his last flight of middle school. He collects his yearbook from a teacher and I watch him come through the doors of Oakview for the last time. He’s a far cry from the happy-go-lucky 6^th grader who first walked the halls 3 years ago. He’s much, much taller and leaner, with chin-length multicolored hair and a slow, long stride, and a very different attitude towards life. While I feel sad our middle school lives are over, I know he is happy to be done.

It would embarrass him too much if I were to get out of the car and clap for him. So I do it from the driver’s seat – I wipe my tears away, put on a big smile, and shout “Congratulations!” as he opens the passenger door. He rolls his eyes at me in his typical teen manner, but I can see the spark of a smile growing.

It’s too early for Dairy Queen to be open, but I want to mark this occasion in some special way. We have plenty of ice cream at home though, so I make a very unexpected and very much appreciated move.

“Ice cream sundae for breakfast?” I ask.

The smile grows into a great big grin. It’s the only answer I need.

We drive through the parking loop for the very last time, past the front entrance, past the American flag waving proudly as always, and past the sign that reads “Oakview Middle School, Established 2002”.

"Goodbye Oakview," I whisper. “Thanks for everything!!”

This post is dedicated to all the teachers out there, not just the ones at Oakview, who made it through this challenging year and kept our kids on track emotionally, socially, and mentally.

Fear as Healer - How I am Making Sense of my Coronavirus Fears

It was late January when I first heard about the coronavirus. Like most Americans I dismissed it as another hyped up illness, comparing it to the overblown H1N1 or SARS scares of years past. It was something that was happening a half-continent away in China, what was there to worry about?

In February my family thought nothing about flying to Florida for winter break. On March 6, two weeks to the date after our return, my eldest texted me to see if I would pick him up from school. He wasn’t feeling well – he had a scratchy throat, nausea, and fatigue. He later spiked a fever that went up to 101.2 and lasted a day, followed by congestion and a cough. At the time there were no coronavirus cases in Michigan, nor was there any specific information about the pathology of the illness. The symptom list was vague - fever, coughing, and difficulty breathing. But I wondered – could he have picked up the coronavirus at the airport or on the plane? I took him to the doctor a few days later. When I signed him in I noticed a new spot on the sign-in sheet – “Have you traveled anywhere in the last two weeks?” I marked yes. But despite that no one mentioned anything about coronavirus or where we had traveled; the nurse practitioner listened to his chest, said it sounded good, and sent us on our way.

On the way out, I picked up a fact sheet about COVID-19 by the Michigan Department of Health and Human Services. It said that coronavirus spreads through the air by coughing and sneezing, close personal contact, and touching a surface that has the virus on it and then touching your mouth/nose/eyes. “Health experts are concerned because little is known about this new virus and it has the potential to cause severe illness and pneumonia.” Well, that was certainly disquieting. We’d all had pneumonia a few years back and it was not fun. I was worried about the possibility that Michael had the coronavirus and would have to be out of school for 14 days in a quarantine. A friend in San Francisco posted on Facebook that her daughter’s roommate and boyfriend were sick and presumably had coronavirus. Their symptoms mimicked my son’s, minus the congestion.

It was right about that time when Italy became the next hot spot. Every day the news reported more and more cases and deaths there. I kept a close eye on this because my parents were supposed to go to Spain on March 10. Soon cases started to appear in Spain. No one wanted to tell my parents not to go on their trip, but we all were concerned about the risk, not only of them getting the virus but of getting stuck in Spain if travel to the US was locked down (which it later was). Luckily no one had to; they made the decision on their own, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. Spain did grow to be the next hot spot after Italy; the cases in Spain tripled in the three days after they decided not to go.

That fact sheet of early March - it also said this: “Currently the risk to the general public is low.” Think about that. Only a month ago health experts were concerned about the coronavirus causing pneumonia and I was only concerned about my son missing school! And now worldwide there have been over 81,000 deaths and over 1,400,000 cases, and that’s only the ones that are known. Schools were cancelled on March 13 and as of last week have now been cancelled for the rest of the school year. My home state of Michigan, like many other states in the US, has been on lockdown since March 24 in order to lessen the spread of this virus that is so contagious it is spreading like wildfire. Grocery stores were void of any paper products for weeks, and videos surfaced of fights in the aisles over toilet paper. Simply unreal.

Admittance - The First Step

I’ve been in a very low mental state for the last three weeks. My anxiety and fear levels have been through the roof, and I’m sure much of the world is feeling this way too. I haven’t been writing or meditating or doing much of anything. I don’t want to talk to people and if I do I find myself being irritable and short with them. I feel numb, flat, restless, and unmotivated. I don’t normally pay much attention to the news, but I find myself being unable to stop refreshing Google News to view the latest updates. Every day at 3:00 pm I check the local news website to see how many new cases and deaths there are in my state. With every stomachache, headache, or sore throat (and there have been many) I take my temperature and wonder if the virus has finally come to roost in my body and house.

Does it sound like I’m worried and afraid? You bet I am. I’m absolutely terrified of this coronavirus coming into my home or that of someone I love and changing the trajectory of my life. It’s why I worry about my 79-year-old father-in-law in Wisconsin, as well as my niece who works in the NICU department at the hospital, my cousin's wife who works in the ICU department, and my friend who is a deaf translator at Beaumont hospital. It’s why I won’t go to the grocery store and send my husband as my Hunger Games tribute even though I desperately want to go in his place. It’s why I won’t go on a social distancing walk with my mom and dad who only live a mile down the road from me. It’s why I call people names (not to their faces of course) when they’re not abiding by the social distancing stay at home rules.

And just what are those rules exactly? They’re always changing. The people in charge don’t seem to know what they are either. First it was wash your hands and use sanitizer to block the spread of germs. Then after schools were shut down we were told to put into practice social distancing and keep 6 feet from others who were not part of our immediate family or household. But could we still see other people as long as we were 6 feet apart? Unclear. I started reading articles posted by friends in San Francisco about the measures they were taking. Walks with others? Nope. Their advice was plain and simple: just stay home. And so I did. I declined walks with anyone outside of my home, parents and brother included. I cocooned myself and my family inside my home.

I watched videos of nurses begging everyone to stay home and refrain from socializing with anyone outside of the home because the hospitals were limited in supplies and almost at capacity and you did not want to end up there. I broke down for the first time after watching these videos as the threat of what our world was dealing with became all too real. The second time I broke down was after the announcement that the schools would remain closed for the rest of the school year. Not because I would have to be in charge of homeschooling my teens for the rest of the year, but because our present situation was expected to remain so dire that we wouldn’t be returning to normalcy before the end of the school year. Mostly I was afraid that this would be the new normal, that our lives would be irrevocably and forever changed.

Looking at social media didn’t make me feel better; for some reason it just made me more irritated and annoyed. Many of the people I follow were sharing meditations or other resources designed to help you feel better or to help ease your anxiety and fear. Others advocated learning new skills or making masks or doing anything to keep busy. I felt less than because I didn’t feel like doing any of these things. I did put a thank you heart on my mailbox but couldn’t get motivated to do anything else because I was busy being angry, afraid, and processing my grief over this situation we found ourselves in.

Last week I went on a walk in nature with my son. It was a beautiful spring day, warm and sunny, and I wanted to walk amongst the trees. I knew it would be the perfect medicine for my mental health. We drove to a trail head, only to discover that everyone else had the same idea. The parking lot was packed with cars. My need for sun and nature outweighed any sense of fear I felt at being so exposed, so near others (near being a safe 6 foot or more distance), but afterwards I wondered if I had done myself and my family a disservice? We passed a lot of people on the trail - had I just risked my family’s health?

My worries intensified two days later when the CDC came out with the advisement to the general public to wear masks anytime we were outside of our homes. They now believed the virus could be passed not just from touch, sneeze, or cough; it would linger in the air after you talked or breathed and you could, in that manner, be exposed to the virus. The developments keep evolving. The latest, according to Kaiser Health News, suggests that the coronavirus can infect the heart muscle, leading to heart failure or cardiac damage in patients. Yikes!

Every day things are changing and my anxiety keeps ramping up. Perhaps others think I am going over the top by locking my family down so stringently. The thing is - I’m no stranger to viruses. In fact, I have spent the past decade being vigilant about eradicating them from my body and household.

In 2013 I was hospitalized with Epstein Barr Virus (EBV), the virus that causes mononucleosis and contributes to Chronic Fatigue. Recovery was not simple. My immune system was severely altered and I had to be careful with what I ate or drank (no alcohol for me - it would cause me to get sick again). I even had to be wary of my daily activity levels as overdoing it with exercise or cramming too much into one day would catapult me into a relapse. In 2014 I started seeing an infectious disease specialist.  He discovered that in addition to EBV I had high levels of other viruses. This viral load in my body was significantly overwhelming my immune system, causing chronic fatigue and illness. Antivirals were the cure and in this case, the cure WAS almost worse than the disease, but over time it was effective. I turned to holistic medicine once my viral load lessened and began to get significantly better, and ever since I have worked really hard to strengthen my immune system and protect myself from a relapse.

In 2018 my eldest son, who was 15 at the time, was diagnosed with PANDAS/PANS brought on his heavy viral load of the same viruses I had. Our world shifted dramatically as the illness caused him to have unreasonable contamination fears and OCD behaviors that ruled his life. With the help of some talented doctors we made it through that crisis too, but the threat of a relapse always lurked in the back of my mind.

While I would not want either of us to experience being ill like that again, those viruses were a cakewalk compared to COVID-19. They weren’t deadly, like coronavirus can be. Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer wisely said “COVID-19 doesn’t discriminate along state lines, or party lines, or socioeconomic lines. COVID-19 is ravaging our country.” She’s right. Coronavirus also doesn’t care if you are strong and healthy or young or middle-aged. Not everyone has the same reaction. You could have mild symptoms or none. It can strike you down within days if it feels like it. And it wants to be transmitted - that’s how this virus survives and proliferates. You can have it and not have any symptoms, thereby passing it along unwittingly, perhaps to someone who will die from it.

Feeling My Fears

So YES, I am very afraid of this virus. One wrong interaction could change my life in a horrible way. Maybe my immune system is strong enough to handle it now. But I’m not willing to play Russian roulette with my health or the health of my family. I am being uber cautious and careful as we all should be. No one wants to die. So we have to live life for a while without face to face connection or socialization. I think that’s a small price to pay to avoid the spread of this deadly disease.

This isn’t the first time I’ve felt fear like this, however. For several years I’ve been actively addressing the overwhelming anxiety I have about something happening to my family. It has been a very big fear of mine, probably the biggest fear I have, and it is also a huge anxiety trigger for me, like when my mom landed in the ICU with pancreatitis and the doctors weren’t sure if she was going to make it. Or when I was afraid that a virus or illness would take my son down again and wipe away any progress we’d made from PANDAS/PANS. But the way I feel now is different somehow. I’m afraid to do anything lest the Sauron eye that is coronavirus focus its attention on me. I feel it roaming over my house at all times, lurking, watching, waiting.

I consider myself a spiritual person, a person of faith, and I usually have a tendency to only want to look on the bright side of things - an eternal optimist. But in order to do so I push away feelings I don’t want to feel, like anger and grief and fear. I think this is a normal response but I don’t think it’s a very healthy one, for where do these unacknowledged feelings go? They become buried until the next crisis or trigger, and then they come up again, wanting to be addressed or acknowledged.

I have a friend who is a realist. She tried to tell me that she was worried about the coronavirus when it was still “just” a China issue. But I, like our country’s leadership, didn’t want to listen. I didn’t want to hear that a pandemic could come to America and become our new reality. Later when the coronavirus hit here I tried to find silver linings in our “forced” quarantine like everyone else. I thought of all the writing I could get done, projects to tackle - maybe now was the time to clean the basement? But the truth was I couldn’t do anything because I was at war with myself, although I didn’t realize it at the time. I was stuck in my emotions, hiding from fear.

I don’t like looking at the darker emotions of my psyche but I am very familiar with how they get my attention, hanging around as fatigue, depression, irritation or even headaches and stomach issues. I don’t like to think about what I am afraid of, nor am I in the habit or admitting when I am afraid or even showing it. Showing fear is scary; to me it means I am not strong. It means I am less than as a woman, that I am vulnerable and have a lack of control. Instead I push it away and escape into the dramas of television or books.

Healing and Moving Forward

Today I realized that until I address my fears they will remain stuck. And so I address my fears, face them head on by writing this blog post, admitting them to myself and to you, my readers.

I am rewarded with insight and guidance. I am reminded that feeling fear is not weak. In fact, avoiding fear is the weakness, akin to sticking your head in the sand. Fear may be part of what makes us human, but it is not something we are meant to get stuck in or avoid.

Now I understand. Keeping myself walled off from fear doesn’t mean it’s not there or that it doesn’t exist. It’s like when a child is afraid of monsters or the dark and puts a blanket over herself to hide. Even though she is still in plain sight of said monsters, she feels better because SHE can’t see what is out there. She’s not necessarily hiding from any perceived danger, she is hiding from herself, from her fear, because it makes her feel safe.

In writing this post I have learned that giving your fears a voice takes the charge out of the actual emotion. It releases them from your body and mind. There’s a saying I like to tell my kids: “You can’t always control a situation but you can control how you react to it.” This is good counsel right now because we don’t have any control over the spread of the pandemic right now. Yes, it is certainly bringing up a lot of fear and anxiety but we don’t have to live subservient to those emotions.

My friend posted these wise words from her nephew, Joshua Cate, who is riding out the pandemic in South Korea: “Don’t live in fear… did you know there are other things you can live by? Live by awareness. Live by respect. Live by responsibility. Live by the fact that what you do can either help stop this virus or help it spread. Live in the knowledge that your actions can cause yourself, your loved ones, your family, your friends, your coworkers, and all those whom you come in contact with to either be safe or be sick.”

I’m not advocating living life in fear either, because that’s not what I’m about. I’m saying feel your fears, don’t avoid them. Give them a voice, either by writing them down, speaking them out loud, or drawing pictures of them. Do what feels healing to YOU. Then release them. Afterwards, hopefully you will feel like I do today, lighter, stronger, and ready to get on with my life in quarantine.

In the days, weeks, possibly months to come I hope and pray I’m not adversely affected by this virus and I hope and pray, dear reader, you’re not either. Much love to you all. Thanks for reading.

Feel free to share your fears with me if you’d like either by commenting on this post or sending me an email. After all, we’re all in this together!

Finding Joy in Ordinary Moments - A New Year's Eve Tale

I write this in a post-New Year's Eve not-enough-sleep fog as I stayed up way too late last night. My hubby and I didn't do anything special for New Years' Eve; in fact we stayed home like we usually do, but thanks to an impromptu party, an impressive act of mom-ness, and a surprising act of gratitude, our transition into 2020 was pretty epic (IMHO).

New Year's Eve 2019 1:00 pm - it was our first day back after our trip to Wisconsin to visit Jeff's family. We didn’t really have any plans for the evening and all I really wanted to do was try to reach my goal of reading 100 books in 2019. Still in my pajamas, I was halfway through book number 97 when I heard a screech from Nick's room.

"MOM!!" he called. "Leia used my room for her litter box again!" I sighed and put my book down, figuring that my reading time (and cherished slice of peace) for 2019 was over. Although the damage wasn't as bad as the time several years ago when the cat had wrecked the top mattress of Nick's bunk bed (in her defense both times she was trapped there by our other cat - a very temperamental and alpha female who liked to take over her sister's litter box even though she had her own), several of his favorite hoodies were soaked. I mentally cursed myself for not separating the cats while we were in WI as we have done ever since the bunk bed incident, but what was done was done. I guessed this was the universe’s way of telling me to get up and get my day on. I had been successful in getting cat pee out of clothes in the past but was out of the secret ingredient I needed, so, two teens in tow, it was off to Kroger we went.

I needed to go to the store anyway to get food and snacks for our New Years' Eve dinner/celebration. Both boys were having friends over and I hadn't even figured out what to have for dinner that night. Luckily avocados were on sale (two for a dollar!!) and inspired me to make guacamole, which then inspired a taco bar - all teens like tacos right?!

One hour, $175 later and loaded up on Doritos, Fritos, soda, chips AND a version of the secret ingredient I wasn't sure would work, we returned home. I turned into a whirling dervish as I frantically cleaned the house before our guests arrived. I know they are only teenagers and as my kids always tell me their friends don't care or even notice if the house is tidy or not, but I think everyone deserves a clean toilet.

Four hours later, satiated from a very successful taco bar that teens and adults loved, I finally turned my attention to the pee-soaked clothes. I removed them from their hours-long vinegar bath, put them in the washing machine with some Borax and the secret ingredient - Molly's Suds for Cloth Diapers. I closed the lid, said a little prayer to the laundry angels, and walked back into the kitchen. It was 8:00 - four hours until the New Year. The dishes were done, the house was clean, the kids were sequestered in their spaces watching memes and playing video games with their friends and Jeff was, well my husband was asleep on the couch. So I did what any other self-respecting bibliophile would do - I sat next to him, picked up my book and read while he napped.

When Jeff awoke we invaded the older teenagers' space to play Tetris and Galaga on the arcade and then I taught him how to play cribbage (again). We were both pleasantly surprised when said teenagers invited us to play a game of 31. I said a silent prayer thanking whoever is in charge for giving me a son who at 16 still likes to have fun with his parents and for sending him a friend who is willing to play games with him and said parents on New Years' Eve.

When 11:30 came we turned on Dick Clark's New Year program and invited the younger teens into the living room to watch Post Malone perform, a favorite of theirs. I wish I would have taken a picture of them - Nick wearing his new Lund hat and his yellow and black checkered sunglasses, rocking out and feeling totally comfortable in his skin (a feat he's struggled with all year) while sandwiched in between his two best friends that are girls.

They returned to the party in his room after the performance, pumping their own music loud and proud. When the ball dropped on 2020 Jeff, I and the older teens toasted the New Year with sparkling cherry juice in champagne glasses. The young ones started an Instagram Live party and when I "joined" I was surprisingly welcomed. "Hey, my mom's here!" I heard Nick exclaim.

The elder teens finished their drink and retreated downstairs to write a Dungeons and Dragons campaign and the girls prepared for their parents to pick them up. I remembered the moment of truth waiting for me in the washing machine. As I pulled the hoodies out of the machine I put each one up to my nose and sniffed deeply. All I could smell was the scent of freshly washed clothes - no cat pee! A New Year's miracle!

As I put the hoodies over the banister to dry, the one remaining girl's mom arrived to pick her up. The teen thanked me for having her over and with a small unsure smile held out her arms for a hug - another New Year's miracle, for most of Nick's friends don't take the time to be thankful for being welcomed into my home or fed or driven around, much less hug me for it. I shut the door with a tear in my eye, for her simple act of gratitude had touched my heart, and, if I'm being honest, given me some hope for those Zoomers.

To me New Year’s Eve has always been an overrated holiday – it has never lived up to its expectations of being the ultimate party night, for there’s only so much one can do on a cold winter night. However, last night was filled with a whole bunch of ordinary moments that to my surprise brought me a tremendous amount of joy. If my thrill-seeking 16-year-old self could see me at 50, choosing to spend New Year's Eve at home, playing games and spending time with her family I know she would have one word for me - LAME. "Where's the excitement in that?!" she would exclaim. But my 50-year-old self would argue with her, insisting that these seemingly simple moments, of providing a safe and nurturing hub for my kids and their friends to have fun in, of playing games with my husband, or grabbing a quiet moment to get lost in a story, even taking pride in a laundry moment well-done, these are the moments in my life that bring me happiness and there's nothing LAME about that. Where she once had to go chasing her joy I have realized that I can ALWAYS create it for myself, especially in the ordinary moments.

Before last night my sole/soul goal in 2020 was to bring more joy into my life, to do more things that I like, just for me. My reasoning was that I have spent the last 16 years being and doing everything for everyone else and have sadly neglected my own needs. But I see now that while I do need to create more joy for myself I can’t stop creating it for others. Creating joy is a superpower and it shouldn’t be kept or hoarded for oneself.

Today I woke up to 2020 and the sun was shining on a new layer of snow that had fallen overnight, blanketing everything in a crisp, cold freshness. A new year, a new decade, a new month, a new start is upon us, all the trials and tribulations of 2019 washed clean like the cat pee from Nick’s hoodies. And I am grateful!

I am grateful for friends and family, for my children and their friends. I am grateful for being able to process my feelings and experiences into words so that I can make sense of my them and share my insights with you, my dear readers who I am also grateful for.

So Happy New Year to you! I hope your year is full of gratitude and joy and wonder! I encourage you to join me on my quest for joy. Feel free to post in the comments what fills you with joy and gratitude!