communication, health and wellness, lifestyle, Women, writing

They would …if they could

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You’ve most likely heard or read the phrase or seen the meme “If they wanted to see you, they would make the time.”, “If they wanted to, they would.”. I used to believe this, hell, I used to say this exact phrase to people. Well, I call bullshit. On myself and on the phrase. Why you ask? Get comfy, I’m about to tell you.

I have a question for you to ponder. Have you ever wondered why someone keeps cancelling or doesn’t reach out as often as they used to? Before we judge another’s actions or inactions for that matter, maybe take a breath, another, slow your roll, and think for a moment. Have you been reaching out? Have you checked in? If the answer is yes, and you’ve found the response cool or obtuse, although hurtful and confusing, did you take the extra moment to check in, really check in. Maybe even call them out on their response? Ask them what’s up or what happened?

I have someone in my life who I hold most dear who is struggling with their mental health and have been for some time now. The pandemic did not help matters at all. They have a good support system and a trusted therapist. They are struggling with many things, anxiety being one of them. They want to socialize. They want to be a part of things. They can’t. Not that they won’t. They can’t. Their brain will not allow it. Some days are better than others, some not so much. They are a warrior in my eyes, for they are vulnerable and fight everyday.

Some time ago, don’t ask me exactly when as each day seems to roll into the next since 2020. I do know I was no longer wearing a mask, so it must have been late 2022. …weird how I recollect memories by “was I wearing a mask or not?” …sigh. Back to the tale at hand. Some time ago, the above meme came across my Instagram, it seemed to be everywhere. I usually liked those posts or shared them, until it dawned on me. I wonder how many times my dear one read that, or heard it, and felt like shit. How many times did this phrase fuel the wrong fire in their mind, and left them feeling worse about their mental health than they already did? It crushed me. I spoke with them about it, and apologized if I had ever portrayed that mentality to them. I in fact had, and they thanked me for the apology. Owning your shit is tough and ask anyone who’s known me these past 51 years, I was not always so eager to admit a fault or mistake. A true Leo as my child would say. Safe to say, I’m owning my shit, because I realized a long time ago, if you don’t own your shit, your shit will own you.

I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad, or any shame if they’ve said the above phrase, or shared it. We all want to be seen and heard, and it’s hurtful when you feel excluded or left behind. What I’m trying to do is help someone out there to stop and think, and then maybe another person will too. A ripple effect if you will. To stop and think about checking in with friends and family. Really checking in. To stop for a moment and wonder if they are okay. To realize that maybe, just maybe, it’s not personal. That maybe that person is sitting alone wanting to reach out, or go out, but they just can’t. The reason may not make sense to you. Trust me, it doesn’t to them either, but it’s their reality.

How about this instead;

If they wanted to, they would, if they could.

Be kind. Plain and simple.

Beauty, health and wellness, lifestyle, That girl in the red coat

Your Blue Monday Motivator

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It’s Monday morning. It’s cold, like minus 23 degrees without the windchill cold. As my feet hit the hardwood this morning, I remembered to buy a rug. After grabbing my coffee, I plopped myself into my favorite chair and started scrolling through my phone. I was bombarded by two posts. Posts of the lunar eclipse and blood moon – which I was able to witness from my backyard last night. Not a cloud in the sky, bitter cold air, but clear skies none the less. The other were posts about “Blue Monday”. I didn’t realize New Order’s song Blue Monday had it’s own day. Taking a closer look I came to realize that Blue Monday has nothing to do with New Order, it has to do with this Monday being the most depressive Monday of the New Year. I didn’t know this was a thing. Someone, somewhere at sometime decided this was the day that people felt bad about themselves, their New Year resolution short comings, their life choices, their shoes…you name it, it’s the day to feel blue.

I am not an expert, nor am I a guru on the mount. What I am is a woman who has been around, seen some things and survived some shit. I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a friend. I have had some awesome days and some pretty crap filled weeks. What I have come to realize is life is what you make it Beauties. Plain and Simple. That being said, I thought I would whip up a little list to help you out, on this bluest of Mondays.

  • Look up. The sun may be shining.
  • Help your neighbour. If it’s garbage day, see if they need help getting it to the curb. The snow plow went by, so help them dig out the end of their driveway.
  • Bake a cake. For no reason other to eat it. Smother layers of icing all over it and enjoy.
  • Write a letter to a friend. … not an email, not a text, a letter. Remember the feeling of receiving a letter in the mail? We need more of that.
  • Feed the birds. Go to the park or sit in your own back yard. Trust me, if you have bird seed, they’ll show up.
  • Find your favorite CD and blast it out of the speakers, in your living room or in your car. Sing your heart out and fill up your soul.
  • Instead of your morning shower, run a hot bath.
  • Wear that red lipstick that has been sitting in your vanity drawer.
  • Wrap your hands around your coffee cup, feel the warmth, and smell the delicious aroma.
  • Make a hot chocolate that would put Starbucks to shame. Lather that baby with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.
  • Paint your nails, the brightest of pinks or the darkest of reds.
  • Take a moment to remember a favorite memory. We all have a few free minutes a day, even if it’s when you are in the bathroom. Trust me, this works. Your mind has no sense of time, so when you think of a happy memory, your body will respond as if it’s happening right now. …something to remember when you recollect the negative.

It may seem simple and even silly to some. More often than not, it’s the little things that make all the difference. As for yours truly, the only “blue” of my Blue Monday is the sky.

Beauty, communication, health and wellness, parenting, That girl in the red coat, Women

It’s the little things

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It’s 5 days before Christmas and yours truly is able to enjoy some time off before the big day. The last time I had time off at Christmas was because I had the stupid cut out (hysterectomy)…7 years ago. Sure, I had “time off” at the holidays when my daughter was a toddler, but those of us with children know that although the world may see it as time off, time with a toddler is a 24/7 job with no pay, with a boss who can’t find their shoe and cries because you gave them the wrong colored cup with their lunch…so “time off” is a relative term.

As I was running errands yesterday, I found myself getting caught up in the hustle and bustle of the holidays. I almost succumbed to the Grinch and Scrooge mentality. Almost.  Hearing everyone around me sighing, complaining that the lines were taking too long, or honking at each other in the parking lot because they needed that parking space, it’s hard not to get sucked in to it all. As I was listening to the ladies complain about having people over for dinner as they were about to start a rumble over the biggest pot roast in the meat department, I looked over to see an elderly woman with her little basket with a few items in it and I thought to myself “she probably wishes her biggest problem was getting a big enough roast to feed her guests.”. …and that’s when I began to hum a Christmas carol, carry on with my shopping and tune out the sighs and complaints that passed me through the aisles.

Don’t get me wrong, I am no angel as my daughter can attest to. I cuss like a sailor if you are riding my tail end too close in traffic – when I have my kid in the car, her safety comes first so all bets are off. I have been known to use a certain finger when the snowplow comes by just as I have dug out their first visit’s mound of snow and I may have pretended not to speak English when a telemarketer just wouldn’t get “take me off your calling list”. There have been times throughout the days of Christmas past when I pouted even though I knew Santa saw me. There were times I started to Scrooge out or felt the Grinch was onto something complaining about the noise of Christmas, but I always remembered something that others seem to forget. At the end of both these Christmas stories, Ebenezer Scrooge and the Grinch gave over to the magic and the spirit of Christmas. If they could do it, you can too.

  • give to the Salvation army. If they are giving out candy canes for each donation, do what I do. Ask them to give it to the next child that walks by.

 

  • wave to Santa at the mall. Trust me, he is having a harder day than you.

 

  • don’t fight over a parking space. If the other person is gunning for it, let them have it. If you have to park further away, the fresh air will do you good.

 

  • If the grocery store is out of the size of turkey you need, your family and guests will survive. I promise, the sky will not turn black and the world will not swallow you whole.

 

  • when you make eye contact with someone, say hello or wish them a Merry Christmas, or Happy Holidays for those weary of offending.

 

  • give to every toy drive you can find. Any toy will do. The dollar store has coloring books and crayons for a dollar a piece. …psst…you spent more than that on the mocha frappe latte concoction you have in your hand.

 

  • give to your local food bank. If you can, a monetary donation is best – the food bank can stretch a dollar farther than you can imagine.

Take a moment to remember how snow once made you squeal with glee, how hours would pass as you wondered how Santa got to every house. Remember the smell of your Gramma’s perfume as she reached out to hug you, or the cackle of your Grampa’s laugh when he got your joke. Think back to the smiles on your parents faces on Christmas morning, thinking they were so happy Santa brought you your favorite toy, only to now know, the smile was for them and you, not Santa and you. When you take a moment to remember the magic and spirit of Christmas, you too will realize it’s not having the perfectly trimmed tree or the biggest turkey that you remember, it’s all the little things that mattered the most.

 

Beauty, Hair Care, health and wellness, music, parenting, That girl in the red coat, Uncategorized, Women, writing

My Dad, Meatloaf and me

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After 22 years, the retail gods have smiled upon me and yours truly has Saturday’s off from the Salon – a rare occurrence in our industry. At our shop I am needed more from Monday to Friday, as the owner is in the shop every Saturday if a customer service issue should arise. As I was running errands yesterday, the sunshine warming my soul, windows down, a fresh cool breeze blowing my hair out of my face, a song came on the radio that catapulted me back to 1977, Camaro’s, Meatloaf’s Bat out of Hell and memories of my Dad. Those of you familiar with my tales know of my musical references – My love of music comes from my Dad. He would blare Bat out of Hell with the windows down in the Camaro.(for a 7 year old driving past the cute boy’s house…this was a BIG deal). He would sing along to The Guess Who and Gordon Lightfoot. He would play me chords of his favorite Beatles songs on his guitar. He taught me the difference between Bach and Bachman Turner Overdrive.

I am going to give you all a little glimpse behind the curtain. Who I am today has a lot to do with my Dad. (to the rest of my clan…calm down…love you too…). You see, I was not your typical little girl. Sure, I played with Barbie’s, I would dress them up, have them pretend to go on dates. I would also pretend that they were beating up bullies and would get out my markers and draw a black eye on the receiver of the final blow. I didn’t like wearing dresses…unless it was my birthday or there was a promise of a photo op. (when I was little I firmly believed that a movie director would see me one day and say “finally…we found her”.). I was the kid who beat up the bullies or took down the kid hurting the neighbourhood cats. I was also the kid who slept with 20 stuffed animals (my protector’s from things that go bump in the night) and every so often went to bed wearing my housecoat and slippers in case there was a fire, I was prepared. I loved sports and was known to twirl after I scored a goal or hit a home run. I could go from Rocky Balboa to Dorothy Gale in 3.2 seconds…and my Dad never tried to change that. Ever. Even throughout my turbulent teens, hell, my early adulthood, he always gave me a soft place to fall. My Dad let me be whoever I had to be at the time. He forgave my anger. He let me have my anger without judgement. My Dad gave me the space and the time to find myself…the person he always knew I was, just that I had forgotten.

Whenever I am feeling a little lost, or can’t seem to get past a block in the road, I listen to Meatloaf. Yep. Meatloaf. With my headphones on and the tunes cranked up, unbeknowst to my Dad (until now), I am reminded of who I am. I am that girl who can do anything she wants, be anything she wants and am off like a Bat out of Hell.

Beauty, communication, Hair Care, health and wellness, That girl in the red coat, Uncategorized, Women, writing

Through the looking glass

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Today’s tale is going to be short and sweet. The past few days have been full of reflection for yours truly. For those who follow my tales, you all know that since I have entered my forties and had the stupid cut out (hysterectomy) I have found myself again. What was once lost has been found.  This week I came across another piece of my puzzle.

When I was a child, my sister and I would spend our summers and school holidays with my grandparents. You have heard my tales of my grandmother Leah. Today’s tale is that of my grandmother Alice. Tomorrow we lay my grandma Alice to rest. When I was a child she would indulge my imagination. She would let me play restaurant for hours on end, she would give me paper so I could make a menu, she would let me take over the living room and make it my restaurant. She was always the customer and I was always the waitress/manager…big surprise. She would listen to me recite my times tables over and over and over …always with yours truly exclaiming my intelligence and always agreeing that “Yes! You are so smart!”. She made me hot cocoa with colored marsh mellows. She taught me how to play crazy eights. She taught me how to use a knife and fork – like a young lady. She let me turn my cake upside down so I could save the icing for last. She always told me that “gramma loves ya”. As I was going through my photos and memories this week, I came across a picture of my sister and I having a “Beauty Shop” day at my grandma’s house. I remembered how I loved to have my hair clipped and curled and thought the portable dryer was the most amazing invention on earth. I found myself smiling, at how far I had come just to return to where I began.

Thank you Grandma, for seeing my beauty and helping me to see it too.

 

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Beauty, communication, Hair Care, health and wellness, Uncategorized, Women, writing

Mum’s the word

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So here we are, on the eve of Christmas eve. As I sit here, I am seeing the twinkle of the lights on the Christmas tree, listening to my girl Adele and smelling the yummy dinner my lovely hubby is preparing for me and our girl who makes us three. Yesterday was Saturday, the last Saturday before Christmas and tomorrow is Christmas eve and I was and will be at the shop. Today was truly a day of rest for me. I know…you are thinking “yeah…so what…get on with it.”. Keep your hair on, I’m getting to the tale of the day.

I came to realize something today. You all have heard of my dear ‘ol Dad and my beloved grandmother Leah. I realized today, as she was picking up my girl to take her Christmas shopping for a gift for me, I have yet to tell you of my mother. When I think of my mother, I remember the smell of her perfume as she and my dad were heading out for a night on the town. I remember her heels all lined up in the closet and aching to wear them. (As I have stated before, our clan is vertically challenged, heels are a must…it’s the only way we can reach the first shelf).I remember her putting my hair in rollers and when I looked in the full length closet mirror door after she had taken the rollers out, I thought I looked like Farrah Fawcett and felt pretty.  I also remember her kindness, towards me and my kin and also to others. We moved around a lot when I was younger and I was always the new kid, and let me tell you how much fun that was. Looking back I now realize how much my mother tried to make it easier for me. An extra cookie made it’s way into my lunch when I was the new kid in class, so I could offer it to a potential new friend. She would buy me something from the trendiest store so when I walked into the new school I wouldn’t stand out as much – didn’t last long though…once I opened my mouth, I stood out…that and my larger than life earrings and my “True Blue Madonna” coiffure.

As you know, my Dad was in the hospital. While visiting one evening, I was fortunate to witness another kindness bestowed on another by my mother. An elderly gentleman was one of my Dad’s roomies and he had a friend visiting. He was not able to walk or get up on his own so he had to use a bedpan. My mother had noticed that he and his friend had been holding hands earlier, so she went to the bathroom, got a washcloth with some soap and a towel and gave it to the gentleman so he could wash and dry his hands, so he and his friend could once again hold hands.

As you know, I believe beauty comes in many forms. It can come in the form of foundation and eyeliner, mousse and hairspray, paintings and verse. It also comes in the form of kindness, of consideration, of paying attention to the needs of others. My mother has taught me many things, from how to measure a level teaspoon to threading a sewing machine, how to blot my lipstick and how to draw in three dimensions. She has also taught me to pay attention, be kind, make memories not regrets. Thanks for the memories Mum.