communication, Menopause, That girl in the red coat, Women, writing

… I’ve been thinkin’

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As of late, I have found myself lost in thought. So much so I am startled at least twice a day by my family when I walk into or out of a room. We’ve lived together in the same house for 30 years, I should not be surprised there is someone in the house with me. It’s almost, not almost, lets be real, I was totally focused at the tasks at hand for the past 15 years that I didn’t allow myself to slow down and take a moment to take a breath, let alone form a thought. Between my beloved having a heart attack at 39, raising a teenager in the ever changing digital world, mental health struggles for those I hold so dear, job changes, graduations, a little thing called the pandemic, menopause, joining the sandwich generation as the PB & J that holds it together, I lost my thoughts. Not my ability to think mind you, just my thoughts. As I tell my family, much to their chagrin, “They’re my thoughts, not what I’m thinking.”.

There is so much, too much happening in the world right now. So much despair and destruction. So much misunderstanding and misinformation. So much fear. I have two thoughts on fear. The following way sound woo woo to you, hear me out.

#1 – When I speak of the fear, you probably think of job loss, money struggles and food insecurity, along with the multitudes of issues. I used to think of that as well, and some days I still do. Yesterday I had a thought. The fear I’m noticing is the fear of loss of power or creditability. All these people in power, especially the Cheeto – you know who I mean, are behaving like a child on the playground that just found out someone else got a better baseball glove or got the prettiest girl to talk to them and it’s not fair! The minute the attention is off of them for one second, all hell breaks loose. I have news for them all. We die at the end of this. Not a threat. A medical and scientific fact. Those in power, from Presidents to Tech Bros., if all you are doing is looking out for yourself, all you will be remembered for, if you are remembered at all, is for what you did not do. Remembered for the pain you caused and could have tried to end. You’ll be remembered as a liar, someone who did not keep their word and bowed down to the almighty dollar. As for the people in power who “love the lord” as you are watching Washington be painted gold – you’ll be remembered as someone who used religion to get ahead – FYI – that is definitely NOT what Jesus would do – refer to cleansing the temple for more information.

#2 – Fear is used to control people, overwhelm them. Get them to give their attention “over there” and not to the man behind the curtain. Those who know me well, know that yours truly does not like when people try to control me, or anyone else for that matter. Have you ever thought for a moment that not being afraid and having hope, even if it’s for one minute a day, is an act of defiance and solidarity? A true act of self care if you will. Soon your one minute a day turns into 5, then 10 and hopefully into hours. Think about it. Imagine how things could change if we all gave our attention to hope instead of fear. Many may think I have the view of a wide eyed child, and that’s fine, you’re entitled to your opinion. I have too many personal experiences in my life that prove I’m on to something. I’d like to believe things would improve and it would really piss off those who use fear as a tactic – so it’s a win win in my opinion.

If you are able, try to find a moment to get lost in thought – not when driving, but when doing the dishes, taking a bath or brushing your teeth. Before you tune into Netflix, put down the remote and just sit there for a minute or two. Put your cell phone in another room , just for a minute. Your thoughts are chomping at the bit, waiting to be set free, as are you, and as am I.

Get lost in a thought my friends.

health and wellness, Menopause, Women

The Doctor will see you now

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I woke up this morning thinking of a few of my friends. I have a few fabulous women in my life that are really going through it. Different stages. Different issues. Same anxieties and fears. Same feeling of “that they are alone in this.”. It got me to thinking how so many of us are sitting in a crowded room feeling like we are the only ones there. That we’re told, or reared by society to be still. Be quiet. Don’t complain. Be grateful for what you have. Well, that’s all fine and dandy but those are hard pills to swallow when you hear “The Doctor will see you now.”.

I first heard those words at 28 when my body decided to add a growth on my thyroid. We had rented a movie, we had the windows open because central air wasn’t ours yet and I felt a mosquito land on my neck. I went to swat it away and low and behold I felt a lump – 4 cm, thank you very much. We were watching The Green Mile. I shit you not. This is my life. Doctor’s visits. Biopsies. Surgical consults. A hemi thyroidectomy, as the other lobe was healthy and pink. Fast forward 3 years. 31 years old. Sitting in my living room, waiting for hubby to get off a phone call when out of nowhere, I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was being choked. Rush to the ER to find the other lobe felt ignored so it grew a honeycomb of cysts that decided not to drain. 6 cm, thank you very much. Doctor’s visits. Biopsies. Surgical consults. This time around I got to have 12 cc’s of blood drained out of my neck every week until my surgery date. I didn’t mind waiting 3 months – I found out I was going to have the best Otolaryngologist in the province, maybe in the country. Fast forward 6 years, I thought I was lactose intolerant or it was a gall bladder attack. NOPE! Fibroid on my uterus, 20cm x 11cm x 14cm – https://thatgirlintheredcoat.com/2014/10/06/i-thought-it-was-my-abs/ . Again, this is my life. Again, Doctor’s visits. Biopsies. Surgical consults. “The doctor will see you now” became an even mixture of anxiety and hope – a very strange concoction to feel to say the least.

I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m hoping today’s tale might help someone feel less alone. I say it all the time. If more people talked about the things you don’t talk about at parties, the world would be a better place and we would feel less alone.

  • Medical tests are scary. You’re anxious? Good! It means you’re paying attention.
  • Stay Off WEB MD
  • Ask questions. If you don’t understand a word or terminology, say so. There’s no shame in that – this is their profession – not yours.
  • Talk a medical professional – not Chat GPT
  • Keep asking questions until you feel you understand what’s happening.
  • Stay Off WEB MD
  • Reach out to friends. Ask if they know of anyone going through the same thing, or if they have had a medical scare – you’d be surprised how many people are willing to help.
  • DO NOT go down the “should of, could of” road. Trust me. It doesn’t help. Focus on moving forward, because you can’t go back – unless you’re H.G. Wells.
  • Ask for help. Tell your boss what’s going on. Let your neighbors know. Again, you’ll be surprised how many people want to help. People are intrinsically good. They are.
  • It’s ok to cry, scream, pout or just sit there. This is about you and what makes you comfortable – not what makes everyone else comfortable.

I’ll admit, when all of this was happening for me, I had many “why me?” moments. I had days I didn’t want to leave the house because of my scar – kind of hard to hide a 4 inch scar on your neck. As time often does, it taught me why. I’d like to think it was so I can be there for others. A hand to hold. A voice of reason. A listening and sympathetic ear. There were times I felt I was on my own. If I can help one person not feel that way, even for a moment, that’s reason enough for me.

Anything medical can be scary. I’ve found facing my fears made it a little less scary, I said a little less. They say knowledge is power. It is. We cannot control what is happening, but understanding it shines a light under the bed to show there are no monsters there. Be well Beauties. Be well.

beauty, health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, Sunday Confessions, Women

Sunday Confessions

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It’s Sunday morning on my corner of the globe. My day began without the shrill of an alarm, the smell of fresh coffee brewing and the sun peeking through the cracks in the blinds. My kind of morning. As I was sipping my coffee I found myself in reflection and question, something that is happening more and more these days. Reflecting on past days and questioning them at the same time. Not in a “did that happen” kinda way, in a “I wonder why” kinda way. As I was walking through the living room, the thought, more a voice in my head to be quite honest was “you should write today.”. So here I am.

Since it’s Sunday, why not return to my Sunday Confessions. They started in 2013, https://thatgirlintheredcoat.com/2013/06/09/sunday-confession/ , on a Sunday morning when I realized I had had it with the bullshit that they try to, and succeed at, feed young girls and women about beauty and self image. I’m sad to say, that in 13 years, not much has changed. They’re still trying to spoon feed us the same rhetoric, disguised as wellness and yes, I’m still sick of the bullshit.

Over the past weeks, I have seen and heard women who I deem fabulous cut themselves down to size, a size that they are told they should be. They’re doing too much. They’re doing too little. They’re overweight. They’re underweight. They’re not getting enough protein – don’t even get me started on that one. The list goes on, I’d give myself carpel tunnel if I listed them all. Oh, and trust me when I say, I’m not immune to the above. Just this morning, I almost didn’t make an iced coffee to accompany me at my laptop. Yup. My favorite morning treat, a fabulous mix with a splash of caramel coffee creamer, and I almost didn’t make it because of a shitty comment made about women and their “midlife mid section”. Thankfully my true voice stepped forward and said “Fuck that Shit!” and here I am sipping and typing away.

To be clear, huge fan of health, wellness and longevity. What I’m not a fan of? Using them as some sort of holy trinity. Using them as a weapon or marketing tool used to disempower instead of empower. Making women feel like they are failing at life because they aren’t tracking their daily protein intake – for Christ’s sake Sharon – I can barely track my thoughts some days. Another thing that burns me up? Too many “experts” and “life coaches” giving great advice that makes you start feeling “I can do this” and then hitting you up with a price tag. FYI – most of your audience does not have a discretionary fund at their beckon call. Most are just trying to survive and do the best they can with what they have. The click bait is astounding to me. Listen, I’ve been in sales and customer service for over 35 years, and these suckers are good! Half the time, I don’t see the sales pitch coming. Good for them, but not so good for us.

As a lover of lists, I’ve compiled a little something for all my 40 plus gals. A how to if you will. I’m not an expert, nor am I a life coach. I’m just a woman trying to keep on keepin’ on, as most of us are.

  • If you are able, go get your bloodwork done. Check your blood pressure. Give yourself a base line. – I understand that depending which country you live in, a medical visit may cost you. Another reason I’m grateful for Canadian healthcare – to the haters – not now.
  • Take what you will from a Tik Tok /Instagram post, with a grain of salt. If it interests you, do a bit more research. My favorite go to is the Mayo Clinic website.
  • Before you try any new supplement/regime – make sure there are no medication absorption disruptions. I’m on thyroid hormone since I don’t have one anymore and you’d be surprised how may supplements I can’t take because they interfere with my medication. Disruption = a really bad couple of days. “Your skin looks terrific!” – “Thanks! I feel like shit and can’t get off the toilet!” – what’s the point of that?
  • Water supplements/ flavor enhancers – those sneaky buggers – some have fine print that states “do not take within 3 hours before or after certain medications.” – Your water may taste great but it could give you heart palpations. I don’t know about you, but those aren’t the heart flutters I want.
  • You do not need to get a second job to take care of yourself. Close your Amazon cart, go to the kitchen, pick up two soup cans, and lift them as you go up and down your stairs. Eat an apple.
  • Sit down, Lower your shoulders. Breathe in deep through your nose. Hold for the count of 2. Exhale through your mouth. Even once and you’ll feel a little more at ease. *If you feel emotional after you do this – that’s ok! You’re releasing my friend.
  • If you can tell the barista about your hemorrhoids, I think you can talk to a licensed professional about your concerns “down there”.
  • Stop calling any body part below your navel “down there”. If you can look up the newest slang on Urban Dictionary, you can look up the proper names/terms for your body.
  • You do not need to have the latest and greatest wellness tool to matter.

Take it easy on yourself. Try your best to do what is best for you today. You miss a day? There is always tomorrow. Trust me when I say this, the people who matter don’t give shit if your skin is glowing, they want to see you spirit glowing. The ones commenting on your appearance – they’re selling something – they are not your people. The ones who compliment your appearance – those are your people.

Be kind, to yourself. Plain and Simple.

health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, music, Women, writing

Best of days

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August 1st, 2026. My 54th birthday. A day like any other, planned with precision to be exactly that. Booked time off from my two part time jobs. It’s a long weekend in my neck of the woods, and as a birthday present to myself, I added a day or two to the long weekend. I am moving at a snail’s pace, which is odd for me. My family has a running joke. “You complete your to do list by 9am. What are you going to do with the rest of your day?”, so, it’s safe to say, this is not my norm.

The past seven summers have been a blur, between moments that could have changed my life forever, lockdowns, getting Covid for my 50th birthday, job changes, job losses, care taking and losing track of doctor appointments and hospital visits, it’s all become a blur and the past seven years have all melted together into this big memory blob. Who knew I’d be thankful for Facebook memories and Instagram archives, if not for them, I’d have no idea what happened when and where.

I woke up to no alarm, with hot coffee waiting for me. My favorite perfume wrapped and waiting for me, Clinique Happy. The sun pouring through all the windows. Messages from loved ones, texts wishing me the best of days. Those wishes came to fruition, as it was the best of days. Slow and steady, visiting my folks, weekly grocery store run, a walk with my daughter, our favorite dinner and a chocolate McCain cake. I couldn’t have asked for more.

All day yesterday, my mind kept wandering back to this thought, why is it we only wish people the best of days on special occasions, like birthdays, anniversaries and weddings? Don’t get me wrong, being remembered with well wishes on my birthday was wonderful, and I treasure those who took time out of their day to remember me. I keep finding myself going back to my thought yesterday, why do we wait for celebrations to wish those we know to have “the best day ever!”. I think we should offer such well wishes everyday.

Think how wonderful it would be to hear “Hope today is your best day ever!” on a Monday as you’re about to present a new idea to your boss. “May all your wishes come true today!” as you’re wheeling a loved one to another appointment at the hospital. “Make a wish!” as your strolling through a park looking up at the trees swaying in the breeze. How wonderful to hear your phone ring and to hear “Wanted to call quick and wish you a wonderful day! Love you!” on a Wednesday afternoon, just because.

The world lost a beautiful soul last week. Glen Hansard. I’ve been listening to his music on repeat. At first it made me cry. Now it fills me with hope. I can’t explain it, it just does. Listening to his music, I find myself remembering myself – a journey I’ve been on a while now. Maybe it’s my age, maybe it’s the state of the world, maybe it’s menopause, our 50’s are weird. I find myself returning to myself, the me who I was before the world got at me. The me who celebrated everything, for everyone, from birthdays to conquering a new recipe or facing a fear as big as a career change to as small as climbing to the top of a ladder. Something in me always wanted to make people feel seen, to stand up to the bully, to celebrate any and all accomplishments. Not every day can be the best of days, but I do believe as a child believes in fairies, that we can make at least one moment of everyday the best of days for ourselves and for others. Holding the door. Smiling as you walk by another. An “You’re Awesome!” gif sent to a friend. A memory sent to remind others of a great time. An iced coffee that’s the perfect color – if you know, you know.

As I type this, it’s raining outside. The kind of rain that makes you want to stay home with a cup of tea, a cozy blanket and a good book. It’s like Mother Nature got my memo about slowing down. I’m wearing my birthday present. Clinique Happy. A scent I adore and gave up in my 30’s for a reason I cannot fathom. Fresh Lemonade on my desk as I write. My wordsmith playlist playing. A cardinal landing beside my window for the flash of a second – hi Gramma. The best of days. I wish the same for you.

communication, health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, That girl in the red coat, Women, writing

Dream Weaver

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Have you ever woken up from a dream feeling full of love and empty at the same time? That’s how I woke up this morning. It was an odd night. At 3 a.m. I woke to a sound that sounded like a mixture of tapping and dripping. There was a thunderstorm raging and my first thought was ” Great! A leak in the roof.”. The sound began above my head, then began to travel across the ceiling towards the window, then it stopped. I peeked under the blind, it was still raining outside, yet the sound stopped. Weird. I got back into bed, silenced my mind by repeating “No words. Sleep” silently to myself. – side note – try it, it works. Before I knew it, I was back to sleep and in my Gramma Leah’s house. She lost her sight at the end of her life, so it wasn’t a surprise to me that she was reading braille. I asked what she was reading. She told me “my prayers for you.”, then asked to take my arm and we walked through her front door, smiling and giggling with each other. The sun hitting our faces as I heard the tune of my alarm and then I woke up. I woke up smiling, then I remembered she’s gone. It’s been almost 20 years and here I am crying as I write.

Grief never leaves us, we just become bigger than our grief, or at least, that’s what I think. My tears have become more of a release than those of despair. I feel lighter as I cry, like I’m letting my Gramma know I feel her. I’d like to think the sound that woke me up at 3 a.m. was her, trying to get my attention and that she visited me in my dreams to make sure she was getting through to me. Letting me know I am being watched over, and that I am surrounded by light, even if I can’t always see it. That connection and love never ends.

The point of today’s tale you ask? To remind you we are more the same than we are different. We all feel grief, fear, anxiety, you name it. To give you permission to feel what it is you need to feel. Many of us feel we are not deserving of feeling our pain because “others have it worse” – I call bullshit. Pain is pain. Trauma is trauma and needs to be respected as such. For yours truly, the past 6 years, every Spring/Summer season has brought either angst, pain, illness, recovery and being pulled in what felt like 10 different directions and still there were dishes to be done, family to be fed and laundry to be folded. This year, knock wood, my Spring /Summer season has been calm, and with the calm, has brought up my angst and my shoulders along with it. My mind knows everything is okay, my body is suiting up. I have to keep reminding myself that this is not then, this is now. Everything worked out. Everything happened as it should. I’m still standing. I literally just had to put my shoulders down – you should too.

As I’m writing this, I realized I’m entering a seventh year. There are theories that our bodies change every 7 years, that we are a new person at a cellular level. I’m not a scientist or an M.D., but I do like the sound of that. I have been feeling a shift as of late. I’m noticing more moments of levity, finding myself smiling as I’m doing ordinary things like driving, doing the dishes. I find myself humming or doing a little dance as I’m ironing – yes, I still iron – nothing better than a crisp linen. Some may say it’s my HRT kicking in. Some may say it’s the work I’ve been doing on myself. Those sentiments may be true. I’d like to think that my Gramma Leah’s prayers for me have something to do with it.

My Gramma Leah could crochet, knit and cross stitch the most beautiful creations. Who knew? She is also a dream weaver.

communication, health and wellness, lifestyle, That girl in the red coat, Uncategorized, Women, writing

Once in a blue moon

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For anyone on any social media platform, you are well aware that yesterday was a blue full moon. I’m not usually someone who directs their life and decisions by my astrological sign and horoscope – unless it’s good news, then I’m all for it. That being said, something happened yesterday.

It was a usual slow and easy Sunday morning and I was lounging in my favorite chair. I looked over at my hubby with his bedhead – still cute after 32 years and said “I think I’ll go for a walk today or do something new, I need more whimsy in my life.”. Whimsy. Not a word I usually use, I think I’ve said it twice in my life. Yesterday, and when I framed our new thermostat with a vintage frame because it was a cute idea and also covered up the hole left by the old thermostat cover – two birds my friends, two birds. Back to the tale at hand. Hubby says he’ll come with me. We start to get ourselves together to venture out, I check my Insta as I’m waiting and there it was. A post about the effect of the blue moon for Leo’s – brings attention to joy, creativity and whimsy. Whimsy. Ok universe, message received.

My Sunday afternoon consisted of blue skies, cool breezes, sunlight, laughing with my hubby, and venturing into new stores looking for a new chair for me at my writing desk. I’ve been sitting on a circa 1930’s chair and quite frankly, my 50 year old ass can’t take it anymore. So, after 13 years, I decided it was time. What is it about us as women that we put ourselves, and as it so happens, our asses last? Another tale for another time. Anywho, I found a chair at a local business – support local when you can my friends. It swivels, it’s on wheels, it has arm rests. It doesn’t look like an office chair. It’s perfect. … and it was on sale which is even better – I love a good deal. We got home, set it up, retired the old chair to it’s original home, if front of the antique fold down desk. I spun around in my new chair a few times, looked out the window, heard the garden calling my name, grabbed my ear pods, and ventured outside.

I found myself humming along and almost dancing to the 90’s country tunes playing in my ear as I cut down the overgrowth of last year. As I stood back to appreciate my efforts, a random playlist brought me a moment of joy. Dwight Yoakam’s “Turn it on, Turn it up, Turn me loose” started to play. What’s the big deal? Well, let me tell you. The year was 1992, I had just moved in with my boyfriend – now husband. I woke up to him smiling at me, telling me to get dressed. He was taking me to Toronto to go shopping. He had $400 to spend. Just so you will know, and one day you’re children will know, $400 in 1992 was ALOT of money – hell, it is today, but I digress. After a day of following me around to all the shops, I spotted a record store. I had heard Dwight Yoakam’s music and loved it. I found his latest cassette tape, “If there was a way” – yes, I said cassette tape – Gen X here people. I looked at soon to be hubby and he smiled and took it to the counter. I listened to “Turn it on, Turn it up, Turn me loose” on repeat the whole 2 hour drive home, with a driver who hated country music. Yep. He isn’t a fan of the ol’ country twang, but he knew I loved it and wanted me to have what I wanted. Joy. Whimsy. Hmmm – even the title of the album, “If there was a way”, kind of ties this all together with a cute little bow, doesn’t it?

The point of today’s tale? Don’t let the fuckers get you down. Find your whimsy. We are being bombarded every damn day with horrific news, opinions being disguised as facts, AI telling us what’s “real”, disgusting behavior from world leaders – yeah sure, the picture was him as a doctor, not Jesus – if you know, you know.

We can’t control any of the above. We can control what we do, what we say, what we create. Be it a garden, watching the birds out your kitchen window, listening to music that fills your soul with joy, or spinning in an office chair.

beauty, health and wellness, lifestyle, Women

Shameless

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shameless – adjective – Feeling no shame, impervious to disgrace

I was scrolling my Instagram last week – no TikTok here – I’d never leave the sofa – I know this about myself – lets be honest, I was scrolling my Insta everyday last week – hence no TikTok, and by days end, I found myself bouncing between feeling dumb to feeling inadequate to feeling left behind. I’m entering the final months of my 53rd year on this earthly realm and I’m done feeling this way. Seriously, I have been feeling this way as long as I can remember. Some days it’s for a minute or two, some days, it lasts all day and seeps into the next.

We are bombarded every day, all day, with these ugly opinions cleverly disguised as facts on all social media platforms and internet ads, and don’t get me started on the AI fashion/skin care models. Even podcasts and podcast hosts telling us because we don’t drink enough greens that is the reason our life is falling apart and not using AI in your everyday life and everyday tasks will leave you alone floating on an ice flow. Oh, and protein…for the love of God, stop offering me protein. I’ve heard “You gotta try this protein powder” in my 50’s more than “You want a toke” in my teens. Ugh, and ease up on the “do you lift bro?” rhetoric. Yes, being reminded lifting is important to my aging bone health is great, I don’t need to be reminded that I’ll be the “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” lady if I don’t do it everyday.

Here’s the thing I’ve come to realize – most of this shame is not mine. It’s what I think I’m supposed to feel shame about. Shame for being a stay at home Mom. Shame for going back to work. Shame for being too much. Shame for not being enough. Shame for cellulite. Shame for being too strong. Shame for being weak. Well, as I like to say, Fuck. That. Shit.

I’ve got a theory about this shame business. It may seem far fetched and if that’s what it sounds like to you, that’s fine by me, it’s just my theory/opinion. If we are all feeling shame about bodies, our lack of protein and exercise regimes, we’re focusing on those things, not world events, political decisions, what the Cheeto on Pennsylvania Avenue is up to – like I said, just an opinion.

Here’s the deal. You know that saying “before you think you’re depressed, take a look around to be sure you’re not surrounded by assholes”, I’ve got a new one for you. When the shame seeps in, look up from your phone, take a good around, and ask yourself “Who’s trying to sell me something by making me feel like failure?”. To be clear, I’m all for entrepreneurship and building a platform, side hustle or business. I do believe it can be done without the shame.

Be shameless Beauties. You’re doing the best you can today and that’s enough. Plain and simple.

… Oh, and the protein and weights will still be there tomorrow. Trust me, someone will let you know.

communication, health and wellness, Women

Price of admission

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“Discomfort is the price of admission for a good life.”

I came across this quote, I don’t remember where or said by whom. All I know is that it stopped me in my tracks. I found myself thinking of all those who came before me and paid their price of discomfort. In Canada, my great grandmother waiting until 1955 to take her grand daughters to the library to get their library card – the first time a girl or a woman could get a library card without her father’s or husband’s signature. 1955. Women going to the doctor in 1969 – when birth control was decriminalized. 1969. Women walking into a bank in 1974 to get their own credit card, without needing their father’s or husband’s signature. 1974. Two years after I was born.

It got me thinking of what price am I paying? I’ll be 54 this year. In my life, I’ve always been able to vote, have my own bank account, my own credit, my own car. I’ve had the choice to be a mother. I’ve had the choice to work. All because of the discomfort of those who went before me.

I like to believe it’s partly because of them that I speak my mind. Not only because they made sure my voice could be heard, but that they are always with me, surrounding me when my voice starts to shake when I speak my mind. That they were with me when my grade 5 gym teacher said girl’s couldn’t hit a ball that was pitched to them and needed a t-ball stand, to which I kicked it over and shouted “Pitch it!” and as God is my witness, I hit a homerun – they were with me. They were with me when my grade 10 science teacher told me that it was okay that I didn’t understand the experiment because “I was a girl and girl’s don’t need to understand science.” to which I shouted “I need to go to the office and call my parents about what you just said”. – needless to say, I didn’t call my parents, he looked like he shit his pants after I said that – they were there. When I sold cars and a man asked me to sit in his lap on the test drive (happened more than once) and I looked him square in the eye and said “let’s call your wife to see if it’s okay with her” – they were there.

It’s our time to be there for women. All ages. All countries. We’re at a tipping point. Yes, women are making strides on a global scale, in sports, in government, in finance – take your pick, we are rockin’ it. Yet, it’s 2026 and I still walk to my car with my keys between my fingers. At least once a week a man is surprised that I know, well, anything other than how to remove a stain and make a casserole. At least once a week I meet a man who has no problem with, Roe vs Wade getting overturned or the Voting Acts being rescinded. For Christ’s sake, The White House had a press conference for Dr. Oz to tell us that women in the U.S. are “under babied” – a fine example of a man who’s never been told to shut the fuck up. My great grandmother was a fine lady and she would agree with my sentiment.

It’s time, as John Lewis said, to make some good trouble. It’s time for a little discomfort. We need to be there for each other as our mothers, aunts, and grandmothers were there for us.

health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, That girl in the red coat, Women

Life Preserver

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I don’t know about you all, I feel like I have been bouncing between treading water to just keeping my head above water. Between the news, the world events, menopause, being a member of the sandwich generation, the patriarchy and fascism rearing it’s ugly head, it is easy to feel like we are drowning. I’m sure you’ve noticed I haven’t written in a while. There are many reasons, mostly because whenever I sat to write I was either overcome with “who gives a shit” or I would just type the word “Fuck” over and over.

Last week I had a meltdown. My poor husband getting to be the soul audience member of my snot nosed, ugly cry temper tantrum/fit/ stomp fest 2026. He sat quietly, let me say what I needed to say ( thanks to 30+ years of marriage, he now knows just to let me go and I will return to myself, I just need a minute.). He asked me if talking to someone would help. I admitted I’d thought about it, therapy saved my spirit in my teens, truly. Then I said something out loud that I’d only been thinking. “I think I need to start writing again.” . So here we are my beauties.

Also, thank you to all who have been continuing to read my past words, somedays this little blog of mine gets 100 views. When I shared this news with certain people who I now know may not be my people, they said that the views are bots or AI reading my words. I realized that I was allowing their words to feed the wrong wolf. I started this blog to help myself and others feel better about themselves, how to use their hair products. It began to morph into something else at the same time. A how to be kind, or not to be an asshole – take your pick. Most of my past posts that have been getting attention as of late are those exact ones – about kindness, about hope, about how not to be an asshole.

So, this little blog of mine is slowly getting a revamp. A life preserver for yours truly and in turn for you, that is my hope. I believe truth is beautiful, and taking the time to tell those you care about when they are awesome and when their assholery is showing. There is still so much good in the world, yet we are bombarded with the ugly. “Look for the helpers” – I’m going to try to take a page from Mr. Rogers play book – although my language is more like Mr. Robinsons – those of us over 40 will get the SNL reference.

Know this. It’s okay to want to scream into the void. It’s okay to be looking around wondering what the actual fuck is happening. It is okay to weep for the world, for the loss of human rights, the overturn of Roe vs Wade, the corruption of government. It is okay to feel rage because this is not the world we wanted for our children – seriously, I apologize to my daughter at least once a week for the state of the world – another tale for another time. It is okay to get down – it is not okay to let those bastards keep you down. The ways we slowly get back up? Give to your local food bank. Check in on your neighbours. Feed the birds. Get outside and stare at the clouds. Share the good news with the not so good. Laugh. Laugh. Laugh. Be silly. Rest.

We truly are in this together. It’s one world. Lets keep each other afloat.

communication, health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, parenting, Uncategorized, Women, writing

Chapters

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It’s been hot minute since I last posted, literally. This past summer has been one of the hottest on record and not just because of menopause. Mother Nature must be in her 50’s this go around for it’s 30 degrees Celsius (that’s HOT for my American readers) on the 5th of October. With the change of season, on the calendar at least, I find myself pondering change. These past years have seen more changes for yours truly than my mood before doing some hard internal work and getting some good ol’ hormones. While pondering all the changes, I came across a quote that hit the mark – “Don’t judge me based on the chapter of my life you arrived in.”.

I celebrated my 53rd birthday in this earthly realm this past August. I celebrated with my mother, at a local grocery store, as I was her wheels for most of the summer as my father recovered from open heart surgery. Mom even joked “Isn’t this better than some party?”. Actually, it kind of was. Dad’s heart wasn’t in the best shape and it was a 6 hour surgery with 14 hours on a ventilator and a 2 week hospital stay. Knowing my 53rd birthday very well could have been one person short, I was quite content to be at a grocery store with my momma on my birthday and arriving at their front porch to see Dad smiling as I brought in the groceries.

These past months I’ve found myself looking at strangers wondering what chapter they are in. Are they beginning one? At the end of one? In the thick of one? I find myself being more patient – those who know me well have just fell off their chairs. Recovering from heart surgery is not for the faint of heart – pun intended. Everyday I kept having the same thought – what do people do who are on their own? I found myself wanting to scoop up all the lone patients and bring them home like some kind of stray puppy. Yes – I realize – kind of co-dependent – I’m working on it. Wondering if one could be co-dependent with the Universe? You found your girl, well, at least I used to be your girl, slowly closing that chapter and trying to begin the next one. Back to the tale at hand. While passing the patients, the families, the hospital staff, I found myself wondering who they were? What was their day like? Were they scared? Were they at peace? Which chapter was this for them? Was it their last? Are they wondering the same thing about me? I found myself hoping they were, because if they’re wondering about others, there is hope for us all after all.

If this past chapter has taught me anything it’s this, we have no say, no control of anything except ourselves, there’s been a few days I’ve forgotten that. Also, you cannot rewrite or edit yourself into or out of anyone else’s chapter, no matter how hard you try – trust me, I know of what I speak. Being a recovering co-dependent menopausal GenXer is such fun.

I’m not even going to go into what’s happening in the world. We are all very well aware and that is another chapter for another day. That being said, taking a moment to remind yourself that the chapter you are arriving in may not be the best chapter to judge others right now may be the best thing you can do for yourself and others.