Our dear Mel over at Stirrup Queens has begun a blog phenomenon... as she frequently does.
Microblog Mondays. Writing in your own space. Something short and sweet. But it's meant to take back our bloggy space and call it our own. I am going to try to do this periodically. Life's hectic. So we'll see how long this lasts.
*********************
You know how I know that Hell has frozen over? Because the rest of this God forsaken frozen wasteland has too! Seriously.
I live in Canada's capital. Last week, and this week, we're breaking records left, right, and centre. February has been the coldest month on record. Ever. We've hit temperatures colder than the Antarctic. We're bundled to within an inch of our lives. The temperature here is colder than it was on Mars for Pete's sake! No joke!
Today is a semi-holiday here. It's Family Day. However, as a federal government employee, I'm supposed to be at work. (This holiday isn't in our contract yet so we don't have it off. Neither does my husband.) I say "supposed to be at work" because I am NOT at work today. I am sitting in my kitchen. Why, you ask? Let me tell you...
Because it's so frakkin' cold in this frozen country, where the air hurts my face and stabs at my lungs this morning (we have a raw temperature of -27 but with the wind it was -40. Remember: -40 C = -40 F.) and my car decided it wasn't going to start. Not a gig. Not a whit. Not even a little bit of juice.
I'll go one better; Hubby's car wouldn't start either! No joke. Two vehicles in our driveway, and both of them essentially said, "Nah, not so much." A friend of mine posted on Facebook that this is the universe's way of telling us to stay home and watch movies today.
Sounds like a helluva plan. S'cuse me while I go turn on my heated blanket.
Monday, February 16, 2015
Monday, February 09, 2015
Microblog Mondays: Mental Health
Our dear Mel over at Stirrup Queens has begun a blog phenomenon... as she frequently does.
Microblog Mondays. Writing in your own space. Something short and sweet. But it's meant to take back our bloggy space and call it our own. I am going to try to do this periodically. Life's hectic. So we'll see how long this lasts.
*********************
I cannot possibly fathom writing about anything else this week. For ever since last Wednesday, February 4, my world has been shaken and forever changed.
It was an ordinary day. I went to work. I went to the gym; I ran 3.4 miles on the treadmill too! I picked up Petite after school. We went home. Hubby was working late so I took care of dinner, Petite's bath and getting her bedtime routine going. Hubby came home around 9:30, just as I was rousing from a little doze with Petite as she loves a cuddle with us before bed. (I think I fell asleep before she did though!)
And as I was waking and getting up and out of Petite's room, I got a Facebook PM. It was a group PM between me, Hubby and it was coming from our dear friend, MM.
MM and her husband, RM, have been friends of ours for YEARS. RM and Hubby knew each other before Hubby and I met in 2000. They've been friends for about 18 years. And when RM met his wife-to-be, we were introduced and got along like a house afire. They're a wonderful couple. We saw them more frequently before Petite was born, but even after her arrival, we always kept in touch and we arranged to get together every few months, as schedules would permit.
RM was a teacher. Graphic Web Design at a local college. He was well-loved and respected by peers and students. He was funny, very quick witted indeed. And one of the most intelligent men I knew. I admired him. Respected him greatly. He shared good news and bad with us over the years.
But the Facebook message from his wife shook me to the core. RM passed away earlier on Wednesday afternoon at the age of 46. WHAT? How could that be?! My brain didn't compute that at all. Not possible. It's just not possible. It must be a joke.
Hubby walked in the door, mouth agape (much as mine was) and I said, "We need to call her. Now. This has GOT to be a joke... He's suck a jokester. Someone must have gotten their hands on his account or hers or something. This isn't real..."
We called MM, who was in shock, and tears.
She had come home early as she had known RM was a little down about a medical issue. She found that he had committed suicide. She found her husband; he had hanged himself. She was alone. She was the one who had to call 911, cut him down, give him chest compressions, the whole nine yards.
No one should ever have to do that to a loved one. Ever. She has that image in her head forever. With luck it will be replaced by happy thoughts in time, but for now, she is grieving. We are in shock. We are preparing to attend his funeral later this week but there are no words to describe how we feel.
Talk to your loved ones. Talk to professionals. Open up about mental health issues. Because no one should ever feel at wits' end so as to make this choice to end it all. Too many people love you. Yes YOU. You are loved. Deeply. Please don't make this drastic choice. I beg.
RM, we can but hope you find the peace you so desperately sought. But you will be sorely missed. Life will not be the same without you. We love you.
Microblog Mondays. Writing in your own space. Something short and sweet. But it's meant to take back our bloggy space and call it our own. I am going to try to do this periodically. Life's hectic. So we'll see how long this lasts.
*********************
I cannot possibly fathom writing about anything else this week. For ever since last Wednesday, February 4, my world has been shaken and forever changed.
It was an ordinary day. I went to work. I went to the gym; I ran 3.4 miles on the treadmill too! I picked up Petite after school. We went home. Hubby was working late so I took care of dinner, Petite's bath and getting her bedtime routine going. Hubby came home around 9:30, just as I was rousing from a little doze with Petite as she loves a cuddle with us before bed. (I think I fell asleep before she did though!)
And as I was waking and getting up and out of Petite's room, I got a Facebook PM. It was a group PM between me, Hubby and it was coming from our dear friend, MM.
MM and her husband, RM, have been friends of ours for YEARS. RM and Hubby knew each other before Hubby and I met in 2000. They've been friends for about 18 years. And when RM met his wife-to-be, we were introduced and got along like a house afire. They're a wonderful couple. We saw them more frequently before Petite was born, but even after her arrival, we always kept in touch and we arranged to get together every few months, as schedules would permit.
RM was a teacher. Graphic Web Design at a local college. He was well-loved and respected by peers and students. He was funny, very quick witted indeed. And one of the most intelligent men I knew. I admired him. Respected him greatly. He shared good news and bad with us over the years.
But the Facebook message from his wife shook me to the core. RM passed away earlier on Wednesday afternoon at the age of 46. WHAT? How could that be?! My brain didn't compute that at all. Not possible. It's just not possible. It must be a joke.
Hubby walked in the door, mouth agape (much as mine was) and I said, "We need to call her. Now. This has GOT to be a joke... He's suck a jokester. Someone must have gotten their hands on his account or hers or something. This isn't real..."
We called MM, who was in shock, and tears.
She had come home early as she had known RM was a little down about a medical issue. She found that he had committed suicide. She found her husband; he had hanged himself. She was alone. She was the one who had to call 911, cut him down, give him chest compressions, the whole nine yards.
No one should ever have to do that to a loved one. Ever. She has that image in her head forever. With luck it will be replaced by happy thoughts in time, but for now, she is grieving. We are in shock. We are preparing to attend his funeral later this week but there are no words to describe how we feel.
Talk to your loved ones. Talk to professionals. Open up about mental health issues. Because no one should ever feel at wits' end so as to make this choice to end it all. Too many people love you. Yes YOU. You are loved. Deeply. Please don't make this drastic choice. I beg.
RM, we can but hope you find the peace you so desperately sought. But you will be sorely missed. Life will not be the same without you. We love you.
Monday, February 02, 2015
Microblog Mondays: Growing Old(er)
Our dear Mel over at Stirrup Queens has begun a blog phenomenon... as she frequently does.
Microblog Mondays. Writing in your own space. Something short and sweet. But it's meant to take back our bloggy space and call it our own. I am going to try to do this periodically. Life's hectic. So we'll see how long this lasts.
*********************
This past weekend I was tied up with a number of rather 'domestic' things. Some baking. Some cooking. Lots of laundry (as usual). Some cleaning. Moving furniture. Disassembling and reassembling a table and a queen-sized bed. Some sewing. Some blogging (for a church initiative). Even writing and distributing a newsletter.
And as I'm doing all these things, I find the arthritis in my fingers acts up now and then. Or it's harder than it used to be to move the queen-sized mattress (yes, by myself... but just pulling it over the wood floor). And you know something? I needed my reading glasses to thread the needle for my sewing projects and to pick out the individual threads in the material. READING GLASSES people?!!! I'm not even 45 yet!
I realize I'm getting older and yet, I still think of myself as the insecure 16-year old who hides in the bathroom during lunch. I don't know if I've really "grown up" or if I'm just growing old.
Hubby and I have about 15-20 years to retirement. We are planning for that already. But I always wonder about how good my health will be when I get there. I had WLS last year to try to give me a leg up so my health is better into my old age.
But you just never know.
Case in point: a colleague/girlfriend. Two weeks before her retirement, she lost her brother suddenly. One week (to the day) after that, she had a heart attack. She survived (thank God!) but now realizes that she needs to take better care of herself to enjoy her retirement and to LIVE to be here for her family. Please heavens, I can do my utmost now to ensure my good health when I retire. Because I have plans and I have no intention of letting time or other factors take those plans away from me. (I know, I know. Wanna make God laugh? Tell him your plans for the future.)
Fingers crossed for these plans to come to fruition. Growing old(er) sucks. :(
Microblog Mondays. Writing in your own space. Something short and sweet. But it's meant to take back our bloggy space and call it our own. I am going to try to do this periodically. Life's hectic. So we'll see how long this lasts.
*********************
This past weekend I was tied up with a number of rather 'domestic' things. Some baking. Some cooking. Lots of laundry (as usual). Some cleaning. Moving furniture. Disassembling and reassembling a table and a queen-sized bed. Some sewing. Some blogging (for a church initiative). Even writing and distributing a newsletter.
And as I'm doing all these things, I find the arthritis in my fingers acts up now and then. Or it's harder than it used to be to move the queen-sized mattress (yes, by myself... but just pulling it over the wood floor). And you know something? I needed my reading glasses to thread the needle for my sewing projects and to pick out the individual threads in the material. READING GLASSES people?!!! I'm not even 45 yet!
I realize I'm getting older and yet, I still think of myself as the insecure 16-year old who hides in the bathroom during lunch. I don't know if I've really "grown up" or if I'm just growing old.
Hubby and I have about 15-20 years to retirement. We are planning for that already. But I always wonder about how good my health will be when I get there. I had WLS last year to try to give me a leg up so my health is better into my old age.
But you just never know.
Case in point: a colleague/girlfriend. Two weeks before her retirement, she lost her brother suddenly. One week (to the day) after that, she had a heart attack. She survived (thank God!) but now realizes that she needs to take better care of herself to enjoy her retirement and to LIVE to be here for her family. Please heavens, I can do my utmost now to ensure my good health when I retire. Because I have plans and I have no intention of letting time or other factors take those plans away from me. (I know, I know. Wanna make God laugh? Tell him your plans for the future.)
Fingers crossed for these plans to come to fruition. Growing old(er) sucks. :(
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