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.

beauty, communication, health and wellness, lifestyle, parenting, Sunday Confessions, That girl in the red coat, Women

Sunday Confessions

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I have a confession to make. A confession of non guilt. I no longer feel guilty about putting myself first. Yes, you read that correctly. I am a woman, a wife, a mother and a daughter who no longer feels guilty about putting myself first and making my mental, emotional and physical health a priority. Before those who know me well call me out about “health”, yes, I still smoke, I’m working on it. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Last night I had the gift of free time. No dinner to make – thank you left overs. An early out of my shift – thank you Covid. My daughter busy mastering her craft. My hubby driving out of town for his weekly check in on his Momma. As I sat down to Netflix and VegOut, I found myself thinking about caretakers. How as women, we are designated this position without any consultation. We are told that’s how we are wired, that it’s in our DNA. That it’s selfish to want, it’s selfish to fill our plate first. That a good wife puts her man first. That a good mother makes sure the needs of her children come before her own. I call bullshit.

I’m here to tell you, from personal and agonizing experience, putting others first and yourself last helps no one, least of all yourself. Sooner or later resentment sets in and BAM! Unnecessary arguments with your spouse, temper tantrum competitions with your children, tears and hurt feelings to all and from all who surround you. All you’ll be left with is puffy eyes, a headache, a sore stomach, feeling like you’re the worst person in the world and your loved ones walking on eggshells in fear of waking the beast and you all wondering “What the hell was that?”. You know what it was, because you know you didn’t make yourself a priority. Your loved ones have no clue, because they don’t know that to put them first you chose to put yourself last. Yep. I said it. You chose to put yourself last. Hey, I did it for 3 1/2 decades, no judgment. I’m here to tell you, don’t waste anymore time and emotional turmoil. I’m here to tell you it’s okay to put yourself first. The world will not open up and swallow you whole. Those who love you will not leave you. Mouths will still be fed and beds will be made.

Now before you declare to your family that they are “on your own bitches!” that is not the moral of this post. Take a breath. Again. Better? Okay. Those familiar with my blog know all to well how I adore lists. So being me, I’ve compiled some guilt free self care, put yourself first tips. PYFT’s if you will.

  • before you get out of bed, make yourself think of one thing you are grateful for. Just one. Let yourself begin your day with a grateful heart.
  • once the coffee is brewed or the tea is steeped, pour yourself the first cup every so often.
  • eat the last donut
  • have your shower first
  • light a candle or turn on your Scentsy warmer as you’re packing lunches. Surround yourself with your favorite scent, even if just for 5 minutes
  • put on your favorite tunes, past and present while washing the ever present dishes. For full effect – put your ear buds in and shake your booty.
  • get outside. Even it’s for 5 minutes. Every morning I make myself go outside and just stand in my backyard. Sometimes I take pictures with my phone. Sometimes I just stand there. I feel better and it gives my neighbours a hobby.
  • watch your favorite shows or movies. I don’t care if you’ve already watched it twice in a month. If it makes you happy, watch it.
  • start reading. Asks your friends if they want to do a book swap. Educate yourself. Enlighten yourself. Escape your reality for a moment. Even a page a day makes a difference. It does.
  • start using your fancy creams and soaps.
  • treat yourself to professional shampoo, conditioner and treatment. Trust me on this one. A good hair day goes a long way. If your hubby can spend $30 on his “phone game” and your kids can make you remortgage your house for Minecraft, you can have great hair.
  • create a vision board. Physically or virtually – gotta love Pinterest. Make yourself something that when you look at it, you feel joy.
  • make a Jello. When you open the fridge, you’ll see something you did, something you accomplished. My gramma Leah knew what’s what. … or a cake, or cookies or whatever your favorite treat is.

It’s time to become your own caretaker. No guilt. No shame. Putting yourself first and practicing self care makes you a better caretaker of others.

Merriam-Webster defines caretaker as “one that gives physical or emotional care and support.”. I looked up many other definitions from various dictionaries and not one definition reads “one that gives physical or emotional care and support only to others and not themselves.”.