Footprints

pattieboulanger

In October last year, I had to say goodbye to Chapo. My first dog. This was a new experience for me. New experiences is what best describes something hard that I know will be difficult. It’s how I twist the perception and try not to set up for failure or hurt.

If you have a pet, you know what it is to have unconditional love. Pets don’t know any other way to love you. If you’ve lost a pet, you know the heavy weight it comes with and you understand the famous quote – they leave footprints on your heart forever.

Chapo he was not an ordinary dog. I know I know, you might say that everyone thinks that about their dog… maybe they do. He did not know he was a dog, he was 89% human so he identified as human and the other 11% was puppy.

Our Chapo, a 130lb Rottweiler, carried all the emotions we couldn’t carry in the last 5 years. He was anxious and had no self preservation. He was so intelligent but often made bad choices. His excitement level was unmatchable. His actions portrayed all the things we carried but didn’t express to the world. He worked hard to be good, but the emotions often had him in a pickle.

When he was a puppy, I was in a divorce and moving houses. I was alone for those few months of packing , he was my friend. I would crack a beer for a break, take a sip and set it down and he would tip it over and then lick it up off the floor.

He loved hard. and so do I.

He acted out when he was overwhelmed. Same.

He was always so excited to see his people. And would bark loudly and guard against those he didn’t know. Same.

He could do every trick we tried to teach him. Always ready to perform for a treat. His focus was incredible. He was a people pleaser or a shapeshifter…… I think – same.

He didn’t alway listen. in fact he only listened when he felt he should, not when we felt it was important. Um…. Same.

He did not heed warnings. He just did what ever he wanted. He once ran through a stubble field that was in full burn and burned his feet. All he could see is where we were, and he was coming to us…. Fuck whatever was in the way. I think I do the same if I need to get to my people.

At my aunties acreage last summer, he tricked us a number of times by waiting until we were occupied and then sneaking off to swim in her lagoon. Fuck sakes. So happy every time even though I was mad, I think he knew we would wash him up and things would always be ok. He was always willing to risk for the rewards.

He ate two couches in his five years….. and too many others things to even count.

He was always there with a full on body wag when he saw me or Andrew. When one of us was not home – he was a bit out of sorts and would always wait at the door on watch til we returned.

On his final walk home he was greeted by my dad. I know this because it immediately started snowing when we got back to our truck. A storm from out of no where. Something to get our attention. And it left quickly too.

When my dad was in the room, you knew it. His energy and laugh was infectious. When we buried my dad 25 years ago on June 1st…. A snowstorm came out of no where. And left just as quickly.

So we know our Chapo is in a better place. He had a good life. He did a great job of being our dog. and he did his part in walking us back to ourselves which is a huge part of walking someone home.

Thank you my friend ❤️ we will miss you.

Grandma’s shoes

pattieboulanger

What if we could raise our children later in life?

Hear me out. I’ve been thinking about this for some time. Maybe it is because I am a parent of young adults now and I see them figuring their way through life.

The grandmas of this world have been through all the things and learned all the lessons and are so wise.

After age 50 even, women particularly stop second guessing their every action.

What if you could raise your family as the wise grandma.

I mean I understand all the logical and physical reasons why this can’t happen. But just for a moment, lets think about this as reality.

Children are raised by children.

We finish high school, we find employment or start a secondary education or both. In this time, where we are learning life and getting our own feet under us we often find a life partner too.

We learn about love and relationships and navigating all of that. While earning a post secondary degree.

Maybe our schooling is finished, maybe it isn’t and we have a baby. Now we are navigating adulting, relationships and motherhood. It is so so so much to handle.

It doesn’t allow much time for reflection and self care. We often find ourselves in way over our heads before we know it. Sleep deprivation mixed in with life navigation is a shit storm waiting to happen.

Add the stress of a failed marriage, a spouse who is unfaithful or abusive or both. Add a child with special needs. Add a heavy moment in time where you loose someone you love.

If grandma with all the life knowledge was in our shoes, I think her road would be easier.

Firstly she would have the knowledge of that sneaky little bitch we will call grief. She would know the feelings, what to do, and how to get through it. Listen up grief – hello, I see you, I feel you and you can have 10 minutes of my time today, after that you get going.

She would know all the tricks to raise amazing children.

She would have all the knowledge and patience to deal with children having struggle.

She would know about unfaithful partners. I could guess that rather than carry it around with her she might say – when you fuck around, you find out. I’m taking care of me today and your actions don’t seem on board for that so you can go.

As a master in productivity, time management and systems that work. This system we actually live seems flawed to me.

It seems unfair that grandmas have to live their life learning all the hard hard things and when they are the most powerful women, they are old and tired.

My grandma Noreen, she was icon and probably the hardest working lady I have ever known. In my eyes there was nothing she did not know. I miss her and her knowledge so much.

The version of you that you don’t know yet

pattieboulanger

I started to write this entry two years ago.

Anxiety. She’s a bully and it’s taken sometime to put her in her place so I can talk about it.

Struggle is good. It is a catalyst for a change to overcome something.

We don’t like struggle, it is a source of discomfort.

A big life struggle for me has been anxiety. I can not say I have completely overcome it. But I definitely have learned many tools to relieve it and recognize it.

I did not know what anxiety was until a series of events that I refer to as the struggle came my way. When it was in red alert for me I was a million feelings, the biggest one being scared and it was total chaos.

This is my story.

In the spring of 2006 I found out I was pregnant with my 3rd child. It was a surprise and it was definitely unplanned. To be honest, I didn’t even want another child.

My life plate was so full. My daughters were 4 and 8. I had just purchased my first brand new car – a car that now should have been a mini van because now we weren’t going to fit in a car. Our family had just purchased a cabin because our kids were old enough to enjoy the lake life and now I feel like I had ruined that too. We were leaving for a trip to Disneyland in a week. I am in a marriage that is not in a place to be easily raising another child. I am parenting my mom. My girls are doing their first dance duet and right after Disneyland we are travelling for competitions. And I have what feels like a zillion tax returns to complete.

When I type this list, I find myself holding my breath. I can also see now that this list of what I remember being “problems” could have been easily overcome, reduced or deadheaded but the brain I was operating in 2006 couldn’t see it. Anxiety will do this to you, run your mind like a 24hr marathon.

A month or so later at a doctors appointment we find out the baby has no heart beat.

I was not prepared for the sadness my body would have following this news. And how this life event would trigger a storm in me like I had never experienced before.

The body keeps the score. I didn’t listen to it.

I kept on swimming and being busy and getting through the days.

Prior to this moment in time, I already had an anxiety disorder or whatever words you want to call it. I didn’t know it. I was a super high functioning human. When I think of this moment in time, the maybe the miscarriage was a catalyst, a tipping point, a moment in time that lead to so many scary things but also in time lead me to a place to get help and get educated.

My body got so sad it didn’t want to work. My heart had pain, my legs were heavy, I couldn’t concentrate, I cried all the time. I don’t remember my mind overthinking in this time, it was somewhat frozen like my body. I was very disassociated, watching the world from outside of myself. I remember my mom asking me – how are you? And I would answer – I don’t know. That is the way to tell your mother you are unwell? The more I sat because I couldn’t muster, the more my brain worried in a catastrophic way about every little thing my body was feeling.

This period of time lasted over 2 years. I didn’t have a handle on it. It got a lot worse before it got better. The anxiety turned into a full panic disorder. Heart racing, pretty sure I was going to die at any minute, dizziness, hard to breathe, disassociation, insomnia. I just did not feel ok. I was unwell.

I had a headache lasted the entire time. Every day. No pain relief medication would help it.

I doctored, and each doctor told me I needed rest, that I had too much stress. Which I did not believe. I felt so terrible! I must have a deadly disease! The fear I had I can not even describe it.

I was alone with my children a lot and I was terrified that I was going to just drop dead and they would be crying over their dead moms body. I would run scenarios of this each time I was alone with them. Running scenarios is a way for the brain to feel like it is control of what is happening, but it allows for no rest and repair.

I was obstinate with the doctors. I had heart tests and ct scans and blood work. I was prescribed antidepressants. I went to fill the Rx and the pharmacist told me that the Rx was difficult to get off of and I would likely become dependent for life on it. So I had anxiety over that and decided not to take them.

The last time I went to see my doctor about how I was feeling, she was stubborn back with me and her emotion was elevated – she was frustrated and said – “well what do you want me to do for you? There is nothing wrong with you.”

The fuck you say? How can that be? There is something wrong with me, I am not a functioning human. I don’t feel ok.

A panic attack

I am hot and tingly in my abdomen.

It rises all the way up to my head, slowly

It is suffocating

I can’t catch my breath. I can feel my heart beating so fast.

Am I going to die right here? Now? I’m not ready. This is death.

I need to run. I need to find a space where no one can see me. Where is the bathroom?

I get really light headed and dizzy

Grab the counter!

Sit down

No that’s not working

lay down

Close you eyes and breathe

and if it is a good day, this only happens once. If it’s a bad day – it’s on repeat.

I was a full on adult, responsible for two tiny humans. When you are being raised by someone in flight or fight, I think you learn quickly to be independent.

Somewhere inside I found courage in chaos. I accepted that if your body is not sick, your mind is. So I dived into counselling and reading. I read every book and did every workbook I could on panic.

Slow the mind down and the body will follow.

I found the world of hypnosis. I faithfully did a hypnosis track and rested for 2 hours every afternoon and I walked 2-4 km every evening for 2 years.

Slow down. Be patient. Love yourself. Use the tools you learn.

This was almost 20 years ago. Mental health awareness and treatment has advanced so much. The internet has allowed us outreach to so many areas for help.

What a ride that period of time was for me – like a death drop in an elevator and you are screaming but no one can hear you. The symptoms of panic still surface at times, but I can recognize them now and realize that I’m into something too deep, my stress is too high and I need to take care of it. It is a true gift to be able to have tools to use to calm the nervous system down. I am grateful.

Anxiety and Panic they are often hidden to the public eye or even the private one. You look normal on the outside even though you definitely don’t feel normal.

We can do hard things.

This struggle changed me. It turned me into a version of myself that I didn’t know yet. I am thankful for that.

Invincible

pattieboulanger

I miss my mom. In a presence way. Like a piece of me is missing.

A mother is invincible, well my mom seemed that way to me. She was the pillar of our family. She worked hard to provide a home for us.

She wasn’t always hands on available, but her presence was always available if that makes sense. Growing up, she worked out of the home full time. She provided care for my brother and I when she couldn’t, we went to a babysitter before school and after school. As we headed into junior high and were left to our own devices to get to school and home, we made our own breakfast, packed our own lunches and had to call her at work each day when we got home from school so she could give us a list of jobs to be done before she got home.

We were not close emotionally. She didn’t parent that way. She was always there.

If she didn’t like what you were doing, you knew it. She was always right, for real tho – she would fight tooth and nail about things to everyone, but she was right every time. I don’t remember a time she wasn’t.

The first day I felt my mom wasn’t invincible was the day I sat with her and her doctor and heard her diagnosis. She and I had survived many traumatic events together, I knew in in my deepest of places that she wasn’t going to survive this one.

It’s 12 and a bit years ago now that she had her final walk home. It starts at birth, but her last two years of the race started in the fall of 2008. She is 58.

She had developed a cough that she couldn’t shake. Her doctor sent her for a mammogram in November. She isn’t well, coughing, short of breath. She asks me to drive her to her appointment in Saskatoon. On the way to her appointment, she is talking about cancer and telling me that it could be what she has. My mom was always right, I don’t remember a time that she wasn’t. So thats heavy and I don’t really know what to do with this information.

When the results of the mammogram come, she isn’t given them. Her doctor wants more tests, a couple of scans, biopsies. Each test is a two hour drive to the closest city and a two hour drive home. It’s December and it’s difficult to get into appointments, so her doctor books her in with whatever general surgeon she can to get these scans done – because they need done. Her doctor knew how the system works and if you need attention, they know how to get that done even if it is not the normal route to take. When we are arriving to the tests, the doctors seem confused as to why we are there because everyone can clearly see this is cancer but no one can say it. It’s very scary and stressful. When I think of this time I see flashes of scrubs, metal, white and I feel hopeless. I can see that doctors face and there was no hope in it.

Her last test that day was a scan where she was given a dye injection so they can get a better look at things. I have learned since this day, that this type of scan is to see where cancer has spread in the body, but no one told us that, no one told us anything as we spent that day together testing and waiting.

As we wait for her test – there is another daughter waiting too, she is a teacher and she is grading papers while she waits. I think – why are you doing that here? Little did I know that this is reality when your parent is not well. Actually this is reality when your parent is on their walk home.

When it is my moms turn for the scan, the tech comes to tell us that the machine is broken and they are not able to do the test. For fuck sakes , can this day get any worse for her? Actually don’t ask yourself that question. We wait some more and then get directed to another hospital across the city where they will do her scan. My mom is exhausted. We roadie off across the city. I am tired too and I need this day to be done.

Park. Get out. Find your way to where you need to go. These are tasks that are hard for someone who is very unwell and these task are over the top of heavy for me because I’m supposed to be the caregiver, the adult and my anxiety is in another time zone it is so high. We find our way. Just keep swimming.

The staff tells me that it will take a while so I can go and get a coffee. I wasn’t comfortable to leave her and I wasn’t comfortable with anything including breathing so I just stayed in the waiting area. The flashes I see are cement, dark, green, and I feel dirty. I wait. There is a frenzie of activity and loud voices. A man comes out to tell me that Sandra had an anaphalatic reaction to the dye and they would be taking her to the emergency room for observation. It’s epi injections and I don’t know what else. Fucks sakes.

I follow ish. I find my way. Is my mom going to die today? Does she have cancer? I just need this day to end. I am not ok. I know she is not ok.

We sat in that emergency room for what seemed like forever, it was around midnight when she was released and we could start our 2 hour drive home in -42. I wished for my mom that she could get run over by a bus the next time she crossed a street – because that fate seemed like it would be so much easier than the one we were currently in.

Her symptoms get worse by the day. Her doctor calls us to the hospital to tell us the news. A sit down meeting for the three of us in a waiting room. She has breast cancer that has spread to her lungs, liver and bones. She has a broken bone in her pelvis. Her lungs are full of fluid and she has fluid around her heart. I don’t understand any of what we were just told. I ask what do we do now?

Her doctor doesn’t answer that question and says she must have a guardian angel taking away her pain because the test results show that she should be in excrutiating pain. In this small moment she is not invincible or was she?

She had no physical pain. She took that news like a champ or thats how it looked to me. She showed me strength. I used it to just keep swimming.

There are many steps to a cancer diagnosis and treatment. She didn’t have the time for those steps. It was a few days before Christmas and her doctor could not find any oncologist to take her case until after the new year. I knew she would be dead by then and so did her doctor. Her doctor and a friend of mine that is an RN gave us the advice to take her to RUH emergency and drop her off, so she would get care. If you don’t have a support system and you can’t breathe – you will get treated. Fuck Sakes.

My mom thinks this is her last Christmas with us. So she wants to have Christmas first and then get taken to the hospital. We do as she wishes. On December 26 2008, we take her to RUH emergency. I stay with her because I can’t leave her. She spends the full day in emergency, but it her own room. I over hear nurses talking about how they can’t believe the state she is in and how horrible it is.

We still don’t really know whats going on. She has cancer in many places, but what does that mean? What do we do?

Late that night she gets transferred to a bed on a unit. She spends a month a RUH. She gets care, she gets an oncologist. She asks for the fluid to be removed from her lungs and was told it won’t help her. But she insists. They take many 2 litre bottles of brown fluid off her lungs and she did feel so much better. She has the fluid removed from her heart. They try to send her home.

At this time, I am spending every day with her. She tells me to not come up for a couple days. Turns out her oncologist told her that if she didn’t have a ride home, he would have no choice but to keep her there. After two days, her onocologist booked her first chemo treatment and told her that she would have it and then go home once she could get a ride. She played him a bit and he got on board, because that right there – that is who she was.

This all happened in a 3 month period. 3 months is a drop in the bucket of time, but when you are in it like this, it seems like it will never end. The days are long. The mental and physical load for mom and I was very heavy.

I was detached from my children because of space and hurt. I was not okay. But I had to pretend that I was. And I was still wishing my very sick mom would have a different, quicker, easy end to her walk home.

We don’t get to pick how we leave this place. But sometimes we get the gift of getting a little more time to make moments count.

Over the next 2 years, she went through many treatments, tests, appointments. She had some really amazing times in those two years and she always showed a positive face to us. When she could have treatments at our local hospital, she would often take one of my girls with her. At the age of 7 Makenna was flushing IV lines, because the nurses showed her how to do it. Mom made it less scary, she was so good at that.

In the summer of 2010, she started having cognitive trouble. She had trouble texting and working anything electronic, even the TV. She was spilling things and forgetful. She got lost walking from her house to mine.

One evening when she was sitting at the supper table with us she kept sliding off the chair and couldn’t hold herself up. Something wasn’t quite right, so I took her to the hospital. The doctor did a quick assessment and then talked to me about moms medical history. She had suspicions that the cancer had spread to her brain and asked if I knew it was there. No I didn’t even see this as a possibility. They had never scanned her brain.

She is admitted. I take her for a CT the next day in a city an hour away. She can’t walk. After the test is done, I hear the technicians talking – “should we give her the results? No, what is the point of that”. Fuck sakes, get me out of here. Mom wants fries, so we hit the Wendy’s drive through and I take her back home to the hospital.

Her body is not invincible. When I look back at this moment in time I am reminded that it is not what happens to you, it’s what you do with it.

She begins her 6 week final walk home. She is 60.

I’m fine

pattieboulanger

A friend shared a song. I liked it. I kept being drawn to listening to it. I learned the lyrics. I researched what the writer’s message was. I watched the video on youtube. Repeat.

This is how my brain works. It gets stuck on things. I don’t always understand why.

I’m guided that I’m supposed to write about it. This is my why.

I have been working on this piece for a couple of weeks, trying to get the words right as I always do. There has been resistance.

Last night I was given the gift of a ladies night out with my boss. There were two amazing speakers with much knowledge to share. If you have an opportunity to see Dr Jody Carrington or Jess Tetu speak – grasp it. There were many lessons and laughs with these ladies, and just as each church sermon will have the lesson or education in it that you need in the moment – so did last night speakers for me. Jess shared her life story of overcoming the dark, of her family loss, suicide, addictions and abuse. Jody shared “I’m fine, yea I’m good” and our emotional disconnect.

Holy hell. I’ve been thinking and writing about this and I hear it last night and I felt so connected to each of them and to humanity. To be honest – I didn’t want to go, I dislike crowds, people are not always welcoming and the day had been taxing – but I also knew that Sandy and I needed a motivational speaker, so we went. When Jody spoke of walking each other home – I was in awe and humbled. I didn’t know this quote even existed other than in my head, I immediately know I was meant to be there.

Learn to watch for signs and synchronicities in your world.

As these ladies spoke and I was ✅✅✅✅’ing things that had happened to me or that I could relate to. The next thing that I thought of was – how many other women in this room have these ✅’s too. We all have them.

Butterfly moment – sorry! The song that grabbed my attention is Truth be told by Matthew West.

Give it a listen.

The truth is rarely told. This is golden. I’ve wrote about this before. We are asked – how are you? We respond – I’m good or I’m fine. I don’t think this is truth for most. Why is fine the default setting in our brain?

“I’m fine, yea I’m fine, oh I’m fine, hey I’m fine. ” This is likely the biggest and most often lie told.

It is our nature to hide the difficult things that happen to us. Why are the hard things not easy to share? Are we worried about judgement? Are we worried about burdening others? Maybe we have a hard time describing how we are feeling. Maybe being vulnerable is the hardest task of all.

I’m fine is the safety blanket of feelings. We say it because it helps us avoid further questions. Maybe it halts conflict.

How are you? “I’m not fine, I’m broken. “

Talking about how we feel, opens up the wounds. Honesty about how you are feeling and what you are thinking should be accepted and easy. It should feel ok to be truthful. I’ve talked about this before in some of my other writings. We need to normalize sharing emotions in our society.

Be Authentic humans.

“keep your messes and your wounds and your secrets safe with you behind closed doors”

“cause when it’s out of control I say it’s under control. But it’s not and you know it”

Am I fine? me, no I am not. I try to be.

But – having problems doesn’t mean I am a problem. I think now more than ever, people are struggling. Dr Jody confirmed this last night. Her words “You can’t address what you don’t acknowledge” linked right up with what I was trying to share with you.

IF you don’t acknowledge what you feel, it’s stays inside you – and it just layers up and layers up until you can’t breathe. What if you could tell just one person that you are not ok?

There is something stuck in my brain from the first day I started writing this post. Somehow I feel like this thought has something to do with where we are at in our world.

“Children are meant to be seen and not heard.” I could say this is quoted by Sandra 1974-1988, however I think many parents and grandparents used these words 😂

So – What if – children were raised to be seen and heard? Would they be more confident and comfortable in their own selves to share what is on their mind or under and how they feel and share it? Would they learn this was normal?

Maybe. If we are doing it too. Let yourself be seen and heard.

I encourage you to check out the song by Matthew West –

And if you get a chance to scroll on social media today – follow Dr Jody Carrington and Jess Tetu. We can all use a bit of their sunshine in our worlds. You would be untruthful if you said you didn’t.

We can do better for each other. Check in on your friends and family today ❤️ ✌🏻