What's next?
I’ve been quiet over the summer. Offline. But still here.
After being quite open and out-in-the-world about my health issues earlier this year, it felt right to be quieter and out-of-view.
I returned to work mid-May and it’s be a flurry of activity, followed by the end of the school year in June, summer camp, offering meditation gatherings at my farm in July and then a family vacation for two weeks. And suddenly it’s August.
I’ve used the time to give some ideas space and just, well, be with them. See what delicious elixir might steep into my cup, what calls to my heart to do, create, become, next.
I've watched colleagues and other people I admire from afar launch new offerings, new businesses, new relationships into the world. Cheering for them, sitting in the success and newness with them, feeling content to be on the sidelines. Not pushing anything out, fast, forward. Just, being.
Waiting, opening, observing, pondering, welcoming, discerning.
I’m not sure what’s next, exactly, in terms of my offerings. It doesn’t have words yet. Not specific ones, anyway. More like hints, nuances, whiffs. Like someone hovering, just around the corner, not yet fully in focus. And I’m not rushing it. I’m working on opening my heart, being still, noticing. These days move too quickly.
Thank you for your patience, if you’ve been waiting for what’s next from me. It’s coming. It may not be perfect or fully-formed, and that’s okay. It will be of service.
I have a couple of one-on-one coaching spots open starting this month, if you’re looking to find your “next thing.” Reach out if it feels right.
Take good care,
Jilly
10 Tips for Healing (and a bonus!)
As I've been settling in to being at home, healing, for the next many weeks, I've compiled what's helping with my healing. It's a list (of course). I'm hoping it may help others who are on a healing journey. Enjoy!
1. Choose your attitude
While I'd love to be at work contributing as a productive member of my team and organization, I'm not going to lament being house-bound. Before heading into surgery, I got my head around being in a different mode when I came out the other side. I consciously chose a perspective in which to stand during the coming weeks, with a focus on listening to my body, taking things slowly, and doing what feels good in the moment, in honour of my body getting what it needs in the short-term so that I may return to my full life as quickly as possible.
I choose to see these weeks of healing as a gift. So many people around the world don't have the luxury of an employer that allows them time away without penalty. I'm grateful for mine, and for the flexibility of my coaching clients who enable me to work around my healing needs. I'm also grateful my husband is able to take compassionate care leave from his place of employment to cater to my every whim and demand. Oh, and to keep our house running, because all I can do is cook and take items out of the washing machine one at a time...I'm not allowed to vacuum, push a shopping cart, lift a basket of clothes, or reach the higher shelves...so, while I could feel pretty useless (and I do!), I choose to remember this is temporary.
I'm calling my stance, or attitude, "healing." It's something I can go back to when I'm feeling restless or frustrated at not being able to DO things or whatever. I follow it up with a question to help ground me and enable the best healing for me: "Is this a healing choice?"
2. Sleep
We all know we need sleep to heal at any old time, and this is especially true following trauma to the body. I took this opportunity to have our mattress flipped (thanks husband!), put on clean sheets (with help, of course) and switch out our duvet for lighter spring/summer blankets. This has resulted in better sleeping at night. I've also gone to be earlier than normal, and sleep in a bit later than normal. AND, I've taken an afternoon nap (so glorious!!), or at least some quiet time, every day after lunch.
I'm listening to what my body needs to have quality sleep in the quantity it needs for maximum healing. I'm a big fan (although sometimes not the best follower) of bedtime rituals. They work for kids AND adults! We made the conscious choice to exclude screens from our bedrooms. We read with cozy lighting before sleeping. Sometimes we run a scented diffuser. We have blackout blinds for total velvety darkness. We quickly remove the snoring and/or dreaming dog from our room if he impedes our peaceful sleep. We all do better with a good night's sleep.
3. Water
Water is life. Period. I've consumed more water in the past week than I have in the previous month, I'm sure. I'm drinking up to four litres a day. That's about 16 cups, if my math-y goodness skills are up to snuff. I'm taking it in the form of water from my tap (from my well, then cleaned and filtered through my $20k water treatment system), herbal teas (which I'm not usually into...so unsatisfying...), warm water with freshly-squeezed lemon with honey from my neighbour's farm, chilled and yummy coconut water, and a steaming mug of miso every day. The benefits are numerous: my digestion is improved; I feel more clear mentally; I've flushed out a nasty cold in record time; I feel less hungry during the day.
4. Fresh air and sunshine
It is finally spring on the Prairies. The temperatures are above zero most of the time and a couple days ago it was warm enough to sit on my screened deck in the sunshine while I drank my morning coffee. Yay! The birds are back! We have about a thousand square feet of deck wrapping our house in three directions, so I can follow the sun throughout the day. Fresh air equals better sleep. Sunshine equals Vitamin D and happiness. All equal healing.
5. Light and easy movement
My discharge papers direct me to walk as I am able, as it will help with healing. I've been going for two 30 to 60-minute walks every day. Our fields are dry enough that I can trudge through them and rediscover the rolling hills, sloughs and bluffs on our property. I can see the damage the pocket gophers have wreaked on our land, and witness the geese, ducks and red-winged black birds returning to our marsh. I've seen our resident fox sneaking through the taller grasses, and I'm on the lookout for the badgers that emerge slowly from the ground before the new hay starts to green. I recommend walking with a dog, if at all possible. They tend to set a good pace and help you pause from time to time to just take in your surroundings while they try to dig out a gopher, shoulder-deep in the moist dirt. I'm hoping to re-establish some gentle yoga asanas in the coming weeks as well.
6. Nutrient-rich foods
Growing up diabetic, I'm super knowledgeable about nutrition, and how food impacts my body. I don't buy in to fads or crazes, strict diets, magical supplements or other politicization of food. Better food choices means better blood sugar control which means better healing. It's pretty simple.
Food is fuel. Choose the best fuel for YOUR body. Pay attention to how what you eat makes you feel. The human body can turn almost anything you put in it into energy, so why not treat it with some respect and give it something good, at least most of the time, I figure. Especially when your body is repairing and rebuilding cells and tissues. Choose foods that are as close to whole and real as possible. You know, like fruits and vegetables, whole grains, eggs, fish. We all need fibre, protein and healthy fats to function, and eating whole, colourful foods -- a variety of them -- will speed healing.
Am I going for ice cream this weekend? Damn straight. Am I dreaming about that first post-surgery glass of wine on the deck on a warm evening? You bet. Am I eating whole, real food at most meals? Yes. Will I heal more quickly and thoroughly because of these choices? I believe so.
7. Tuning in
I mentioned before that I'm paying attention to my body and listening for what it needs to heal. To assist with the intentionality of this, I'm focusing my daily meditation practice on my healing. Sometimes I'll do a guided visualization, other times I'll be in silence, and other times I'll sit with a thought or question. This daily tuning in allows me the decadent stillness I need to feel grounded and whole. It calms my nervous system and clears away the chatter in my mind. It's helping me to hear my body's messages about what I need to heal.
8. Distraction
Let's be honest: sometimes you just don't want to think about your health or other life responsibilities. I totally get that. That's where distraction and escape come in as a healthy part of healing. I've been diving into a stack of books, articles, documentaries and films. My mind is being redirected to something other than myself and my current situation, and expanded at the same time. I'm trying to limit my screen time each day because I know my tendency to get sucked into binge-watching will throw all the other things on this list out the window. I'm leaning on my question, "Is this a healing choice?" a lot!
9. Connection
Though the magic of the interwebs, I'm able to feel connected...to you! Human connection is so important, especially in times of healing. I'm revelling in spending more time with my family at home this past week, and connecting with friends, clients and colleagues (virtually at the moment, but hopefully in real-life in the coming weeks!). I also recently joined Meetup. I'm looking forward to planning some fun and stress-free get-togethers for local folks in my Playful Joy meetup!
10. Comfort
Never underestimate the healing powers of:
- a hot shower
- clean sheets
- fresh flowers
- yoga pants
- cozy blankets
- snuggles from a pooch
- cranking up your favourite music and dancing around the house (very carefully!)
Find what brings your comfort, and indulge.
BONUS:
11. Vision
Having a vision of the future -- for when you're all healed up good-like -- will pull you forward when things get tough or boring or whatevs. Create a list of the things you're looking forward to doing, people you're looking forward to hanging with, and places you're looking forward to visiting. Post it where you can see it. Add to it. Make it juicy!
Right now, mine includes things like:
- planting our garden!
- starting a big, exciting project at work!
- wearing pants with non-stretchy waistbands!
- going grocery shopping by myself!
- enjoying some sexy times with my husband (I mean, have you seen him?!)
I'm hoping some of these tips will resonate with you. Take what you like, leave the rest. You do you.
In love and light,
Jilly
On being present
Souls who braved the un-spring-like weather on the first day of spring to splash in puddles
I've been absent from writing here for a few weeks. I apologize if you've missed me!
Here's the quick update: I had a second and final surgery to remove cancer from my body on March 30. Following the first surgery (February 21), I healed quickly and was back to work in two weeks. This time, I will need to heal for at least six. This will be different for me. I don't often do "nothing." I will get to play with the "being" side of life for a change.
Here's the longer reflection: Leading up to this surgery, I didn't have the trepidation and anxiety I experienced with the first. I knew what to expect in terms of how the hospital process works. I had two opinions from two separate and confident doctors that this was the correct course of action. I had my advanced care plan, my will, my funeral arrangements all in place. I knew I would vomit all over myself from the anesthetic, and I accepted that a helpful recovery room nurse would assist me with that hot mess.
I reflect now that I was truly living in each moment leading up to the surgery. I mean, I still planned ahead and coordinated the logistics of child and dog care during my hospital time, weened myself off coffee in a methodically-planned way, and made all the appropriate arrangements for time off work, but my mind was at ease as I went about these tasks. I consciously stayed present, in the now.
And frankly, I was focused on other things.
I went to see Joey Tremblay's "BAD BLOOD" -- please, see it if you are able, when is near you.
Spring arrived on March 20. While this winter wasn't especially hard on the Canadian Prairies, the arrival of spring is always welcomed with relief and a sense of accomplishment. I decided spontaneously to hold a flash mob to celebrate by splashing in mud puddles and dancing in public (that's us in the picture above).
I spent a couple of hours one day writing down a story that has been in my brain for a few years, and then submitted it to a publisher, because WHY THE HELL NOT, right?! YOLO, as the young folks say.
The provincial budget fiasco happened, annual taxes needed to be filed, parent-teacher conferences needed to be conducted, a re-org went down at work. There was just a lot of life happening, all the time, so I did that, rather than be in my head about the future.
And then it was 4:50 a.m. on Thursday and it was time to get up and go to the hospital.
It wasn't until I was in the pre-op bed, draped in the hospital's most flattering (aka, revealing) gowns, that two grown humans could not get to tie up appropriately, having the tiny veins in my hands skewered by not one, but two nurses attempting to get an IV in, that I realized, "Oh shit, how tightly did I hug C last night? Should I have made better farewell videos? What haven't I said to M that I should have?" And of course, it was too late, and so I breathed and hoped I would wake up again. And that the damn IV would be in already. Truthfully, of the entire surgical experience, having my hands stabbed repeatedly was the most painful thing. Either that or my MRI-booking process (more on that in a minute).
Surgery was textbook, no surprises, no complications. The waking up was long and slow and uncomfortable. I'm a slow metabolizer of everything, so after being unconscious for three hours, it took most of the next 24 hours following to regain full consciousness. I dozed off and on in the short stay ward, as much as I was able, because NOISE and VITALS and HAVING TO PEE ALL THE TIME AND FOREVEEEEERRRRR due to so much fluid and so many drugs in my system.
When the doctor visited mid-afternoon and said I could go home, if I wanted, we hopped to it, as much as someone with incisions in their abdomen can. I carried on my dozing at home that evening, and waited for my saliva production to return so I could eat something. I took my pain meds like clockwork, as I had been advised to stay ahead of the pain. After two days, I was off everything. Well, back on coffee! Huzzah!
Overall, the care I received between the first inklings of something being amiss (January 19) to being out of surgery on March 30 was fantastic. The only real bit of so-ridiculous-it's-funny-but-not-ha-ha-funny-more-like-sad-funny was the process to get an MRI scheduled. Here is a run-down of how that went:
On March 1, I saw my doctor and she indicated she would book me for an MRI the following week, ahead of the second surgery, just to be sure there wasn't anything else going on in my insides that she needed to be concerned with.
Phone call 1. March 9: A message was left on my phone to call the MRI department to get my appointment information.
Phone call 2. I called the number they had left and was told by the person who answered that I needed to call a different number.
Phone call 3. I called the second number and left a message.
Phone call 4. March 10: The next morning, having heard nothing back, I called the first number again. The person who answered JUST NEEDED TO VERIFY WHICH PHONE NUMBER THEY COULD REACH ME AT TO SCHEDULE THE APPOINTMENT. I politely verified the number THEY HAD ORIGINALLY CALLED ME ON. (Please note that this took four separate phone calls so far...)
Phone call 5. March 10: I got a call back from the second number I had called (see #3 above) asking what I wanted. I indicated I wanted an MRI appointment, as my doctor had requested several weeks ago. The person said someone would call me to get all my information. I shared that mere weeks ago, I had been across the hall from the MRI department, in the CT department and that in fact I had provided all my information THREE WEEKS EARLIER for a similar procedure. Could they not access this information to expedite the process? No, I was informed.
Phone call 6. March 17 (A WEEK LATER): I was called by someone who asked me a series of questions (all of which were the same as the CT scan questions I had already answered) and told I would be contacted by a scheduler to finally book the appointment. Oh and that I would need to get blood work done before the MRI, so I should find time to do that.
Phone call 7. March 20: I was called and told I would be going in for an MRI THE NEXT MORNING.
I'm pretty sure there could be a few process efficiencies made to improve both the patient experience and the healthcare system workers' lives. For example, how about a single phone call to collect client history AND book the appointment? No? Is that just my half-German-ancestral-efficiency talking? I'm sure there is some very meaningful and well-negotiated division of duties between various unionized employees that must be maintained to ensure my patient experience is of the utmost quality and safety, but jeez Louise...SEVEN phone calls for one appointment? Honestly, after going through this (which I realize in the grand scheme of what's happening in the world is NOT AT ALL a big deal)....my sense that the rest of my procedure would go as planned was slightly less optimistic. If it takes seven phone calls to get a diagnostic appointment, how likely is it that all the right people will be in the room when it's time to cut my guts open?
Anyway, it all worked out in the end. Rant over.
Bonus: I discovered the Bair Hugger. If you are someone who is often cold and have not had this experience, I highly recommend it. I'm looking for a home edition.
Thanks for your support and interest!
Jilly
Farewell Amy, and Thank You
My favourite children's author died today. And it hit me like a tonne of bricks, for some reason.
I was introduced to the incredible craft and beauty of Amy Krouse Rosenthal after our daughter entered our lives. We received a box set of Little Pea, Little Hoot and Little Oink from my brother. As soon as I read these gems, I was in love with her voice. You know when you read something and it sounds like the voice inside your head, and you think, I wish I had written this? Yeah, that. I was connected to the simple structure, humour and universality from the get-go.
I'm slightly embarrassed to say that I had never visited her website until today. I felt I knew her through her work. I had never sought out more about her; her work speaks for itself. Imagine my delight to find reams of videos and other creative endeavours waiting to be discovered there, and the chance to know her more deeply!
As I explored her site a little today, I found this, among other things. (I would make one edit, near the end, from "mankind" to "humankind"...otherwise, it makes my heart sing!) It was written and created several years ago, but I connected with her words and message immediately. They reflect my personal journey toward and into a meaningful life for the past several years, and especially lately.
I was puzzled why I was so upset about her death today. I'd never met her. I wasn't stalking her every move on social media. I hadn't even been aware she was unwell. I haven't read everything she's every written or seen everything she's ever created. So what was up? I sat with it through most of the day, and came to this:
I realize I'm sad that she won't produce any more amazing work to add to the collection of kindness, beauty and delight she brought into this world.
She was only 51. I'm sad that her husband and children and extended family and friends and colleagues will miss her presence. Having recently been through the what-ifs, and the writing good-byes and capturing life advice and making videos as last mementos for my loved ones, I know her reality could have been mine a couple weeks ago. And that hits close to home. I imagine she felt the same things I was feeling about leaving too soon. And my heart breaks for her and her family.
I'm sad because I will never have the chance to attend a writing class or a book signing or other event and meet her. I realize now, as I look at my vision board about my creativity and writing, which features two of my favourite of her books (Little Pea and Uni the Unicorn), that she really was who I was hoping to become, as a writer, anyway. And now she's gone.
And yet, I am so grateful that she was here, and that she created, and inspired others to create. And that she left such a gorgeous legacy in her work, which I get to keep exploring.
And so, because of Amy, I am motivated to Always Trust Magic, Beckon the Lovely, Connect, Do, Embrace the Empty Space, Figure It Out As I Go, and Go To It (from Amy's 7 Notes on Life TEDxWaterloo talk).
In love and light,
Jilly
Birthday celebrations
Today is my 42nd birthday.
I was treated to beautiful Indian food with friends last night, and this morning, to sleeping in, thick coffee, bacon and eggs, handmade cards and love notes, calls and texts from extended family, belly rubs with Morris, and an otherwise leisurely morning. Simple and perfect.
The older I get, the less fuss there is about my birthday. This year I found myself almost forgetting my birthday was coming, and as a result, it is the least fussy ever. I think with so much energy directed toward myself over the past two months, I was eager for a quiet weekend of not-much-ed-ness.
I've been craving normal. I had wanted to experience the full moon fully, and I had options to attend a number of full moon workshops today and tonight, but I've felt drawn to stay home. To introvert. To reflect. Pause. Be.
I'm thankful that I get to see this birthday. It was touch and go there for awhile. While I still need a second surgery in the coming weeks, my doctors are confident that will be the end of my journey with cervical cancer.
So, I'm setting up my reclaimed home office, grooving to this song while I do it, researching chicken coop plans and laying hen breeds in preparation for spring, and watching the clock to pick up C from her second school friend's birthday party of the weekend.
And then maybe some sushi for supper.
My gift to you:
If you're looking for a treat for yourself, here are my recommendations from my days binge-watching Netflix and other sources while I recovered from surgery:
Captain Fantastic. Simply gorgeous. Beautiful script. Brilliant performances, especially Viggo Mortensen and all the kids. Funny. Sad. Thought-provoking. My kinda movie.
The OA. Just watch it. Mesmerizing. Can't wait for season two.
13th. Now I understand more so why America is the way it is. Wow. And I have a deeper understand of why #BlackLivesMatter.
Abstract: The Art of Design. If you have any interest in any kind of design at all, check this series out.
Be Here Now. A beautiful tribute to a beautiful life. Andy Whitfield, who played Spartacus and soared to Hollywood fame, chronicles his family's journey with lymphoma. It's a love story. You'll never look at butterflies the same way again.
Enjoy.
In love and light,
Jilly
Cosmic shifts and now what?
Not dying creates a real problem.
You have to live.
You have to keep figuring life out. You have to decide who you are and who you want to be and how you want to impact the world and what you want to do.
I was happy to not die. Trust me. I was VERY relieved to wake up. Even if I was puking and sore and bruised and oozing fluids from my ladyparts. Waking up was gross and painful and messy and joyful.
I had such an emotional build-up to surgery and the possibility that I might not wake up (it happens...see Bill Paxton as a recent and very real example), that when I woke up, I realized I needed to REALLY wake up and make a new plan...for living.
As a typical (over-)planner, I congratulated myself on NOT planning beyond surgery, other than for the worst-case-scenario. I felt compelled to plan for the messy and hard parts of my potential death, as a way to ease the burden that would be placed on my loved ones. Beyond that, I didn't make any definite plans for the rest of the year...when I'd be back at work, only tentative dates with my coaching clients, no for-sure family vacations, or commitments to playshops or retreats or other endeavours and adventures.
And now I find myself in a state of utter and complete possibility. What a gift.
And, it feels like I have to get this right, given the chance. The possibility of dying is a wake up call to make better choices. To live life on purpose, on my purpose. In alignment with who I am and what I'm here to do. Living consciously. Living intentionally. Making the world a better place, even if in small ways.
I don't want to get too far ahead of myself. I mean, I still have to wait for biopsy results and next steps in terms of potential treatment and monitoring, but my intuition tells me things are going to be okay.
But, the weird solar eclipse/new moon in Pisces stuff that happened a couple days ago created some shifts in my focus. I'm not completely knowledgeable about or even fully believing in the interpretations of the influences of the cosmos on our lives, but there is something to be said for another source of information to enlighten our perspectives. Another framework through which to view our lives, emotions, desires, disappointments.
The messages of the recent cosmic activity are of releasing the old and designing the new; of closing a chapter of our lives and writing a new one for the future; of making up or breaking up (romantic or other relationships, including with ourselves). All good stuff. Truthfully, this could be anyone's focus at anytime, but with the power of Pisces (my sign!) behind me, it feels like the right time to be consciously focusing on these aspects of my life.
So, for the next several months, I feel drawn to focusing on, refining, honouring, creating and clarifying the following:
1. My relationship with myself. This includes giving myself care, real care as I need it, before I need it, to heal my body, grow my love of self, and be healthy in all aspects of the word. This means accepting help. Asking for help. Making priority time for movement, rest and nourishment. Being more than just a mom or manager or coach or wife. Embracing all of me and leveraging my strengths.
2. My marriage and connection to my spouse. This June, we will have been together for 15 years. There has been magic, and it hasn't all been easy. No marriage is. As we celebrate our time together and plan for the future, I want to be clear about what this marriage is and isn't, what our roles and expectations are, and how we will continue to grow as individuals and as a couple. Better communication. More fun. Amazing intimacy. A true partnership.
3. How I will serve in this world. I've had so many ideas bouncing around my head about programs and courses and playshops and ways to make a difference in this world. I've wanted to create an online course for people to get clear about their lives. I've wanted to create an in-person women's circle for nourishment and connection. I've wanted to create playful space for deeper conversations between couples and singles, deeper date nights. I've wanted to focus on EOL coaching. I've wanted to lead a meditation group. I've wanted to expand my art-based playshops. I've wanted to write more and publish my book(s). It's time to make these things real. That means creating disciplined creative time, finding workshop spaces with the right feel, building content, learning the technology to share, collaborating with others, contacting the publisher and just going for it. Knowing that my gifts and how I deliver these ideas in my unique way will bring more peace and connection and love to the world.
So, stay tuned for what's coming next! It won't be perfect, by any means. And that's just fine. It will be raw and real and it will grow into what it needs to be in the world right now.
Read more interpretations and explanations of the February 26 Solar Eclipse/New Moon in Pisces curated by MYSTICMAMMA.com.
In love and light,
Jilly