A Letter to my Guy

Hey, Kennedy.

How’s it going? I wasn’t sure if I should write because I don’t know if you’re angry with me. But it’s been a few days and I still can’t quite wrap my head around what just happened. I’m sure you’re feeling the same. I keep thinking about you and everything we’ve done over the last three years. Do you even remember life before we met? You didn’t have it easy. You were born into a terrible reality and were forced to fend for yourself for the first year of your life. And then that trip! Being rescued and driven all the way from California in an RV with 49 other abandoned souls. Bounced around through foster homes until a series of seemingly coincidental circumstances brought us together. Oh, man….do you remember how stressful that first while was?! You wouldn’t touch the floor, you created nests of comfort with all of my things and when your anxiety ran extra high, you could actually bite someone if they came close.

 

 

But we bonded immediately and I loved you. You were a part of our family (even though you didn’t really interact with any of the other members). We all knew your needs were special and we were patient and understanding.

Even when you kept opening the freezer to steal meat.

Even when you took the compost bin to bed.

Even when you chewed my shoes (only the leather ones).

Even when you opened the oven to carry our supper to the couch.

Even when we had to take you to training. TWICE.

Even when…even when…even when………..

But you were a good guy. Despite all of your quirks, you loved intensely. You were hilarious and super smart. There was no doubt that you craved our connection. No doubt that it was kismet.

But these last six months.

Oh my god.

These.

Last.

Six months.

They’ve been the most challenging of my life.

*deep breaths* The divorce.

There were days when I wasn’t sure if I would make it through. Really. Truly. Barely-hanging-on-days. But on those days, you were there. You were my constant in the worst time of uncertainty. On mornings when I wanted to stay in bed and sleep forever, you were licking my face to take you out. On nights that I was alone and wanted to stay out to party so hard that I couldn’t remember what it was that I was actually sad about, I had to instead go home to feed you. When the kids were just getting used to their new situation, you had them laughing…reminding them that not everything had changed.

 

You slept by me every night.

You made me feel safe in my new house.

You rode shotgun in my new car every time we went for a hike.

You learned how to swim for the first time ever!

You were there for me when so many others weren’t.

But I couldn’t always be there for you. Circumstances had changed. I was gone all of the time. Working extra long hours. Opening a new business. Trying to rebound from the severe retaliation of separation.

You were always on my mind.

Remember coming to the new business during renovations? You probably still have paint on your tail. What about all those late day swims around Kearny Lake? I was exhausted but took you anyway and always loved our time. I promise that you were a priority for me every single day.

I loved being with you.

I loved seeing you all the time.

I don’t know how to go to bed without you. Really.

After your last outburst (not the time where you jumped through my friend’s screened window, or the time you drove my car into the house by yourself, or the time where you locked yourself in the bathroom and shredded my robe, or the time where you injured your face burying butter in my new couch, or…or…or…) I just knew our story was up.

I knew I failed you.

I knew that leaving you at home meant locking my fridge with a bungee cord and closing my windows in the August heat and shutting all of my doors to limit your scope.

That wasn’t serving anyone.

I tried leaving you treats. I tried running you ahead of time so that you were tired. I tried having people come by to walk you. But it seemed that you only wanted me. And I can’t be everywhere I’m needed at once.

Kennedy…please know that you’re one of the great loves of my life. Giving you back to the rescue was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make. I just have to trust that they have your absolute best interest at heart.

They know you have anxiety.

And they know you’re scared of men.

And they know that you feel best with other dogs.

So, knowing that you’re chilling with a bunch of lesbians and a german shepherd in the valley while you wait for your next home makes me a little bit happy. Just a little bit. I actually kinda hope they keep you.

I love you so much. There are so many people who have left me this year…and knowing that you loved me through it is really hard to let go of.

I’m sorry, my guy.

I’m so, so sorry that I bailed on my commitment. I really wanted to be with you to the end. But I guess your journey has other plans.

Till we meet again,

Alicia x

 

 

 

Faces of Love

“Much love…Only love…One love…All my love…Love, love, love!”

I’ve spent a great deal of time in self reflection this year. It seems I’m in a beautifully stable place in my life right now which allows me room for this luxury. A topic of great focus has been love. It’s been of great interest because it dawned on me that I’m actually not very well versed in it. A disconnect between my head and my heart was suggested this past winter and it was a point I couldn’t shake.

I started to deconstruct love and view it from different angles. I took notes in my own relationships in moments when I was feeling connected to another. Something I saw was that being present in love isn’t necessarily held in words (something that I was super good at) or action (again…not too shabby)…but in expression….when the guard is down, the vulnerability is exposed and the trust is there in a safe place (uh-oh).

We’ve all seen photos of people in love. Not romantic love but deeper love. The expression of a parent for their child, a lover for their partner, a friend for a friend…..loving not as a verb…but as a state of being (as Ram Dass would say).  So what if love wasn’t an action? Then it couldn’t be something measurable that could be given or taken away? What if it was simply a state of being? A way of living? Well, I suppose then it wouldn’t be so scary…there would be no fear in gaining it, keeping it or losing it.

Focused on expression, I wondered what I look like when I’m feeling emense love? THEN, I wondered what the faces of those who love ME look like in that moment? I started to notice and take mental snapshots. Before I knew it, I had a pretty full album. I decided to allow that imagery to come up in moments of quiet.

“See, Alicia….this is what love looks like.” 

So, as I was laying in savasana at the end of my yoga class the other day, I thought, “This is a good place to practice love in a few minutes of stillness. Let’s see what comes up.”

“Oh look….it’s her. And that time she was laughing at my story and wincing her eyes in that way that she only does when she’s completely free in a moment. Love.” 

“Oh….and her. That look of deep pain furrowed in her brow while I cry and she wants to make it better. Love.” 

“Oh, my….it’s him. So many moments but still the same face. Sweet dimples with that head tilt. Love.” 

Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

“….his slanted smile…her glimmering eyes…their beaming faces…” 

All love.

And the last image…the one that stuck…the one that was freeze-framed in my head and almost made me leave the class.

The ULTIMATE love.

The PUREST love.

The truly UNCONDITIONAL love.

This guy:

This made me laugh.

From a new part in my heart.

So I’m sharing.

Nothing but love from me and my guy. I truly mean it. And I hope you can feel it.

-Lish xx

You Can’t Rush Your Healing…But You Can Take Part In It

I spent a lot of time with my dog on the Eastern Shore this Labour Day weekend. I don’t know about your dog, but mine’s a guy of very few words…happy, compassionate and non judgemental. Being with him on Nova Scotia’s unbearably beautiful coastline naturally induces a state of contemplation and reflection. After spending a full day in Cow Bay swooning between napping and reading on the sands of Rainbow Haven beach, Kennedy and I hit up Conrads for sunset and, the next day, did a light hike past Lawrencetown. Basically, it’s been one continuous American-Beauty-plastic-bag-blowing-in-the-wind moment. My heart can’t take anymore. So I decided that the only thing one can do when one realizes that one lives in an actual, real life postcard is to put one’s feet up, crack a Garrison Honey Lavender and let it sink in. Queue the blogging.

In searching for the word to encompass how I feel when I make time for this, the only thing that fits is “healing”. The whole time I’m here, breathing in the salt air with Kennedy trotting though the waves, unaware of the time or pressing responsibilities, I feel as if repair is taking place. The strain my heart, mind and body may have been under…often without me even knowing it…comes to the forefront and gets washed over with cleansing energy. I carry a lot. And I know I’m not alone. Even in reflecting only on my most recent weeks of work, I can recall deep, authentic, sometimes tearful interactions with clients. We’re all holding onto so much and it seems that the more open your heart is, the more space for burden there is. It’s like my purse…the bigger it is, the more I’ll shove into it…and before I know it, I’m basically lugging a suitcase fit for a month in Europe everywhere I go….except I’m not going to Europe (sigh)…I’m just going to the market with 25 pounds of unnecessary weight over my shoulder.

Once again, I realize how much teaching I take from my time with clients. People are vulnerable when they are in pain or under stress. It’s been a challenge for me over the years to find my role in their healing. The first hurdle I had early in my career was understanding the frustration that comes with chronic physical pain. It’s difficult to watch someone rehab through a traumatic injury or work with someone who will never have the same quality of health that they had before their accident or illness. To see the emotional stages they go through is humbling…because, although massage therapy is a wonderful facilitator, you eventually see that emotional response is nothing you can change or expedite…but with time, care and experience, confidence is gained in the fact that most things will, indeed get better.

Emotional struggle due to physical injury is now something that is somewhat predictable for me. What remains a continuous work in progress is how I approach care when the opposite is happening. Physical pain as a result of emotional strain is a more complicated realm….and of great interest to me because I recognize it in my own body. I try to be open and authentic with my relationships and encounters…to put my passion into everything I do…and to choose those things that I do and those people I connect with very carefully…selective about where my energy is placed. The trade off in being open is also receiving…most of the time great gifts but also responsibility and stress of action. If that’s not filtered off, it can lay stagnant within and that’s when muscle tension, headaches and fatigue start to set in.

My scenario is mild. But I recognized it a little more clearly this weekend…and it solidifies my belief that I must take care of myself if I am going to be of any assistance to others. There are terms which are being spoken to me regularly in my treatment space …”overwhelmed”, “stressed”, “depressed”, “anxious”, “grief-stricken”, “broken-hearted”, “desperate”…and although I make it clear that I have no qualifications in psychiatric care, it still seems to be a safe and open space for people to release…either physically, verbally or energetically. I’m forever honoured to be part of that space…and it keeps me acutely aware that we all hold onto emotion on some level…whether it’s the immense grief after the loss of a loved one…the frustration after an argument with a partner…the guilt tied to taking care of an elderly parent…the heartbreak after the end of a relationship…or even the residual stresses after working so hard to achieve a goal. It all gets tied up in the physical body. The Buddhists believe that there is indeed suffering in not getting what we want…but also suffering in getting what we do want.

I used to be arrogant in my skill. I once thought that massage therapy could fix almost any ailment. After enough fairly successful whiplash rehabs, I suppose it was a phase I was bound to go through. But I know now that it’s simply a fantastic tool to have as a resource. I had to fill a mild prescription for myself earlier this year. The pharmacist was impressed when she saw in her files that neither myself, nor the rest of my family has had anything filled for at least the last five years. I used to think that my devotion to physical care…massage, yoga, chiropractic, osteopathy…combined with my attempt at decent nutrition and making conscience life choices, like adding in meditation and trips to my favourite floatation centre…was the key…but now I know that THIS is equally important.

Time to yourself should not be a treat. Doing something that makes you feel whole and connected should not be reserved for times when you feel like you’re going to break. You are not a martyr for putting everything else ahead of yourself…you are wasting your precious time. Be kind to You…be patient with You…give love to You. Self care can only be prescribed and applied by thy Self. It doesn’t have to be much…the key is to incorporate it frequently in small doses. Small changes to routine yield the biggest changes over time. I think that’s what we’ve all gotten away from in the current culture of immediacy. Everything is so quick that we don’t realize that something longstanding could be causing our pain and we don’t accept that there may be no quick fix to heal it. Time, compassion, space. A life led by counting down to the weekend or crossing the days off the calendar ’til the next vacation is a sure way to accumulate physical stress and massive regret when all is said and done, in my opinion. And let’s face it…all could be “said and done” at any moment.

For those who are still feeling a bit broken, I leave you with this beauty below…shared with me by a most thoughtful and inspiring friend. Like everything that is meant to be, he “randomly” sent it at the perfect time with the message, “Take a listen to this song! Have a good cry and then move on :)”…and so I did.

Be well and take care of you.

-Alicia