Creativity, Revised

Art has always been a pretty significant part of my life. A bit of a family tradition, I became exposed torte practice at a young age & it became a regular part of my life. I developed a talent & passion for it.  I've always loved to draw & as I grew up my creativity expanded into many areas of my life. As an adult both photography & painting have taken a front seat.

I've dabbled in painting off & on in my adulthood, but never really took it on as a hobby until a few months ago. I talked about getting into it all the time, but like many things I want to do in life, lacked the courage to put both feet in. I would go to art markets & admire the artists putting their work out there, showing & selling. The idea made me want to do it, but also made me nervous...in my way stood the fear of judgement & rejection.

Late last year something in me decided to stop dreaming about it & just start doing it. I started with sketches & surprised myself by this newfound ability to create characters from scratch. Most of my artwork consisted of copying photos or objects, I had a good eye, but never really saw myself as creative on a more fictional level. Inspired by this momentum I started, I dusted off the paints I had stashed in the back of the closet & picked up some cheap canvases from the dollar store. Time to practice. I picked one of my drawings & a tiny canvas, painted it slightly larger than the sketch & called it my first draft. I created another. And another. A collection of miniature works, first drafts. I started to show them, first nervously to my closest people, then expanded my audience to Faceboo friends. The feedback was all positive. In the back of my mind, 'Of course it is, these were my friends after all, they wouldn't tell me if they didn't like it.' But in myself, my greatest skeptic was always present. I stared at the art & picked at all the ways it could be better. I criticized my painting technique, after all I don't have any training, so I couldn't possible qualify as a real painter. In addition to criticism of my skills, I also yearned for a deeper meaning in my artwork, theme among them with a message that would contribute to a greater cause. The idea of making pretty decor to match the colour themes of someone's house just wasn't enough.

I felt like I needed to get better at painting to really call myself a painter. I told myself & others these were not worthy of selling or gifting because of their size & the quality of the products with which they were made & that someday I would be a real artist & then I would create sellable pieces. Around the same time I developed this goal to create enough 'sellable' masterpieces for a booth at Park Art, July 1. I broke it down to 2 per month. A couple months went by. Ok, I'm going to have to buck up for a couple months. I made excuses. When I have better paints. When I have something worthy of creating into a 'masterpiece.' When I'm ready I will start. But I just kept making my little drafts & sharing the ones I thought were worthy of exposure within my circle.

The praise I received from my (very supportive) friends were temporary fixes but I couldn't find it in myself to see my art as good enough. Then I got a message from a friend, someone whom I really look up to from a artistic, professional & personal standpoint, commending my skill & encouraging a pursuit in painting as a career. Forget Park Art, he said, let's talk galleries. He had presented a dream for me that was bigger than I had even considered possible. I was deeply moved by this gesture, but at the same time just couldn't see myself 'there.' And it bothered me that I couldn't see the potential in myself that he saw in me. I asked myself, what is it that I am missing? We talked a little more about it  & the advice he gave me was to stop putting so much weight on what other people think, to paint for myself. Study the artists that inspires me, immerse myself in that. To use my art as an expression of myself. Yes I understood this to a point, I've heard it before, but struggled to see how to apply it in my creative endeavour.

Shortly after this conversation I began to embark on an introspective journey, & I began to understand this concept & how it applies to me. The more I learned about myself, my personality & my emotional processes, the more I started to recognize an expression of my inner self emerge through my art, including the stuff I had created prior to this insight. I started to realize a theme between my paintings & sketches & each one came alive with its own personality, with its own story to tell. From this, stemmed new ideas & elements that could contribute to these stories. I was astonished by the idea that I could create art as an expression of things I hadn't yet learned about myself when I painted them. Things my conscious mind had not yet understood that my creativity had tapped into & emerged from some subliminal level into my painting. I've learned the power of the mind & art's incredible way of expressing that which we cannot put into words.

Along this journey I have begun to realize the importance of creativity in the process of personal growth & my purpose for creating art has changed significantly. Instead of producing to sell, painting has taken on a new meaning for me. Now, more than ever, art has a greater purpose in my life & much more of a priority. It has become about the process over the result. A therapeutic tool for personal growth. An outlet for emotional expression. A space for storytelling. And expression of authenticity. A venue for learning about myself. And a way to connect with others on a new level.

Sure the idea of selling my art or showing it in galleries is appealing to me, and I love the idea that something I create has the ability to offer something meaningful to the viewer. And evaluation from others will likely always play into what I decide to put out there when I do, but this purpose becomes secondary it my reason for art. So by releasing the result-oriented pressure I placed upon my art-making, I am finally allowing myself to paint for myself, for the sake of the experience, the process, the benefit it has to offer me. And for the first time I found the courage to get out my good canvas, my good paints & create something bigger. This shift in perspective provides a place for my creativity to flow freely, uninhibited by the fear of judgement & rejection (from myself included). It is in this space that I will create art that is most authentic to who I am.

Lesson From My 6 Year Old

Lost in my head, I was sitting on the living room floor while my 6 year old daughter sat across the carpet playing. She looked at me and gently ask "What are you thinking about, Mom?" I hesitated. Do I be honest with her or make something up? Do I filter it? How do I simplify it for a child to understand? But before I knew it I found myself explaining to her "I'm thinking about how hard it is for me right now to take care of you guys when I'm having a hard time dealing with all the thoughts in my head & all the things I feel inside." Without blinking she says, "So how can we fix this?" My heart started to fill up. "I don't' know, Scarlett, that's what I'm trying to figure out." "Well maybe I can help by taking care of Archer." The rest of my heart filled up & so did my tear ducts. Wow. In the midst of all the doubt & inadequacy I have been fighting with, this. Reassurance. We have created & shaped this little person with more compassion & empathy than you could ever imagine fitting into that body. Suggestion that maybe, just maybe, I am doing it right, nurturing her to become the best version of herself. Her capacity to carry strength for me in my moments of vulnerability astonishes me. Reaffirmation of the worthiness that I struggle to find in myself on a daily basis. A much needed reminder that I am doing enough, that I am enough.

On the Brink of a Purge

I'm on the brink of a big purge. I can feel it. I need less stress, less decision-making, less mess. But not really sure where to start. I have trouble letting things go, there are too many what-ifs in my way. What if I regret giving it away down the road (which I do often)? What if Scarlett could use it in a couple years? What if I decide I need it in 6 months? What if someone I know could use it? But at the same time I struggle with messes. That's not to say I'm not messy. I am. I even rhyme with it. I think there's a natural tendency for the creative to lean that way, but there seems to be a fine line between organized mess & dysfunctional mess.

Organized mess: It may not look pretty but I generally know/remember where something was left. The visual of that object or a reference to where it belongs. Or a place, behind the scenes that may be cluttered (because I don't have the attention span to place them strategically) but at least they are in the place they belong.

Dysfunctional mess: Nothing frustrates me more than not being able to find something when I am limited for time. Or not being able to find something, period. And the random piles of things because they have no home :( Piles on top of the fridge (which I cannot see...obviously not put up there by me) piles on the countertop, or any top that we can find a space for. Piles of laundry on the floor, dirty mixed with clean. Stuff on the floor, that I constantly have to walk around or trip over. If you came to my house you might not believe me when I say this stuff actually does drive me crazy.

So clean it, right? I guess you could say there are times when the only thing I hate more than dysfunctional messes is the mundane task of cleaning & decision power out takes to organize it. Yuck. I start. But I lose interest quite quickly. Eventually we will plan to have company over & I will miraculously find the motivation to clean it up!

My solution. Less stuff. Less stress.

I go through a purge every couple seasons, trying to make the most of what I get rid of....wanting it to have a purpose in its journey to its next life. This may sound funny to some, but it's important to me that it will be appreciated by the next guy. I take joy in giving things away for free or cheap. I know I would appreciate the gesture, so I get satisfaction in knowing I have provided that sort of joy for someone else.

On the other hand, it would be nice to make a buck or two with the things I no longer make use of. I may regret it less if I got some money out of it. And frankly, I could use another buck or two.

Throw kids into the mix & purging becomes a little more complicated. Suddenly I am not only against the current of my own what-ifs, it is much stronger with the resistance of my girls, who have been blessed with the need to hang on to stuff as well.

My oldest, a concept logic, is quicker to let go of things.  She used to be more resistant, but one summer we had a garage sale & I promised one big purchase out of all the money we earned & she got herself a brand new bike. We also talked about the people who would receive her stuff, maybe people who wouldn't be able to afford this stuff new & would appreciate it as much as we did. Lucky for me, this concept has stuck with her & she typically on board with our purging phases.

The younger of the two, my emotional idealist, loves everything & resists letting it go with all her might. She has a fit every time I event suggest giving away or selling one of her toys. When she got her fur real unicorn for her birthday she said she never never never wants to sell it. This kid takes a lot more creative convincing, & the odd bribe. If I successfully catch her in a good mood, she often later goes back on her word & starts to pull things out of the sell box and we are back to square one. She's a challenger. I've got my work cut out, but I am determined to convert her to our side. Besides, where do you think she gets her stubbornness from?

I could go about liquidating toys without their approval, this seems more logical. But not very fair. Oh the guilt I would face when they realize a favourite toy (that week) was given away without their permission. Ok, so maybe I've created a monster. Or you could call it diplomacy. So be it, that's the way we do things in our house. The battle continues, we work on it & I think this work will pay off in the long run.

One of the decisions I have made is to only decorate my home with things that have sentimental value to them - things that belonged to my grandma, gifts given by loved ones (select ones will make this cut...) handmade by people in my life, personal art & photographs, things related to the experience of receiving them - these are the things that bring me much joy & I rarely get tired of. This is a good start & it has worked well for me, although my walls are a bit bare, it is a process that works well for me.

Where to go from here is a little confusing to me at this point. I am trying to adopt the 'things are replaceable' mentality but struggle with the need to save my money. Perhaps my closet? Or the spice cabinet? Baby toys? Maybe I'll watch that documentary on Netflix. Baby steps. I don't know if I will ever find that perfect balance, but I am convinced there is room for improvement.

Perfectionism - A Love-Hate Relationship

Perfection. It's been a love-hate relationship. One one hand, it brings achievements, hard work, drive & success. On the other hand, it can inhibit those very things.

In my younger years, I used to think settling for nothing less of perfection was the right way to be. And as a child/teenager it probably served me in ways that it would not in my life now. I valued myself on my achievements & was recognized for it. And with the combinations of an extensive range of natural ability and this strong drive to be my best,  I was able to excel at most things I took on - academics, sport, leadership, art, social relationships. I focused on those areas in which I shone & created my own sweet comfort zone in which I received the recognition (from my self & from others) that fed me.

At times, however this would create a frustration that I could not control (or perhaps chose not to because I thought that it served me). my attitude would create friction with my teammates & detriment to my confidence. Because of my definition of self-value, I would come up short of these standards I had set, taking a huge hit to my confidence. When it came to achieving at higher levels, this led to inconsistencies & became a big frustration not knowing why I was unable to maintain that status quo.

Upon entering university, life started to throw me a lot more junk & so many more variables come into play.  Self-expectations expanded with these variable & I found this transition to be one of the mentally toughest times of my life. I held onto those achievements of my past & labels that defined me, but could not hold onto the standard that I held myself up to. I went from being a hometown all star to struggling to make the bench on the varsity hockey team. My grade average fell 30% & I failed my first two post-secondary tests, the first time I had ever failed anything. For the first time ever, I  lost my direction in life, & all the possibilities overwhelmed me. I no longer knew how to define myself, other than my failures & fell into a pretty big depression. I felt a disconnect from most people in my circle & was unable to ask for help, because I had always been able to keep my shit together, and then some.

I don't think this experience, however, was for nothing. In fact I think we all need to go through something similar to foster personal growth.  The short-sightedness of my attitude toward perfectionism became apparent. I started to realize the limits of basing my self-value on my outer achievements & how unstable that can be. Relationships with loved ones became so much more significant in my sense of being. My actions & intentions played a much bigger role in the core of who I am. Happiness, self-fulfillment moved up on my radar & my goals shifted. I felt a bigger purpose was at hand & I had an obligation to fill it (talk about raising the stakes).

It has been an ongoing struggle to manage my expectations but as I get older I begin to understand it more & more & how it plays into the bigger picture. I recognize the importance of balancing a perfectionist mentality in achieving success - the potential of striving to perfection, but the limits of it as well. Setting expectations to an unachievable level inhibits performance, preventing me from reaching goals. Yet setting them too high can lead to disappointment & fear of failure. On the other hand, giving up on your standard (too low) can be really unproductive & unfulfilling.

For myself the challenges I face involve letting go of those expectations when it doesn't really matter. Living up to a high standard for things my heart truly desires, those things that contribute to the person I want to be, to my personal goals, & to my relationships. But (here's where it can get tricky) recognizing expectations that are too high & how they are inhibiting my motivation, getting in my way. Overcoming that fear of failure. Allowing myself to fail. Picking & choosing to focus on the things that matter most. Letting go of the all-or-nothing attitude & acceptation that moderation is perfectly fine (or at least OK) at times, and even required in order to fulfill other expectations.

I find this doesn't only play into effect on myself but also the people in my life. I see in myself the high standards to which I hold for my children. I do think that for my kids, setting the bar high is not a bad thing, it teaches discipline & can help them to excel. But, as with myself, there is a fine line between teaching them to push themselves toward their goals & setting them up for disappointment, the challenge is to find that line & draw it. With experience & intuition I do feel most of the time I am able to recognize when I have lifted the bar to high & when to let it go. Realizing to let go when it really doesn't matter that much always keeping the bigger picture in mind.

Recognizing this in my relationship with my spouse has been a bit more of a challenge, but at the same time brought huge perspective shift. Although I think I knew it on a subliminal level, it only recently occurred to me the impossible expectations to which I have held my husband as well & how it had been frustrating me for years. Bringing this awareness to the surface (complimentary to various other self-revelations brought to surface in the last couple weeks) I began to understand how it fit in with the puzzle of who I am, my needs & was able to let go of that ideal that I had create & which no one person could possibly fulfill. This realization was, in a way, very freeing & I was finally able to let go of this unrealistic ideal I had manifested. I found focus on the many things that I appreciate about him, about our relationship & the areas in which it serves me in my search toward self-fullfilment. It has allowed me to accept his gestures of affection for what they are and not what they aren't. To focus on our areas of compatibility in a clear light. To be more present. And to really appreciate what we are without the frustrations of what we are not.

Although I don't think this ever becomes black and white, but recognizing the potential & the limits of a certain approach or attitude, such as perfectionism, also the importance of balance between these two facets allows us to move forward in self-improvement, in our relationships & in our goals in life. I know for me it has.

Jess, Unfolded

My fascination with psychology started at a young age. I remember observing my surroundings & realizing that I seemed to see the world differently that how my peers did. Understanding my differences & the reasons for them consumed me often. So it was only suiting that I fell into a psychology major in my years pursuing my arts degree. One of my profs administered the Myer's Briggs Personality Type test, which dates back to the 1920's & is still used widespread to this day. My results were a bit revolutionary in understanding myself. I was fascinated by how accurate it was and how simply something so complicated could be boxed into a category. Of course, life isn't that simple & who we are is also influenced by our environment, experiences, & personal goals, but at the same time it is fascinating (and a little creepy) how accurate, even to this day, my personality type description  fits my profile.

It's been years since I took that test & haven't paid much attention to it until just recently, during some soul searching. Encountering emotions with a new intensity sent me seeking a better understanding of where this is coming from, why I feel what I feel & what I can do with it. The latter is a bit of a mystery, but reading my profile shed a lot of light on my habits of coping with life, the source of my feelings, my needs, & how I interact with people around me.

So let me tell you about myself. I am an INFP, aka the mediator, as described on the following  website: https://www.16personalities.com/infp-personality

"INFP personalities are true idealists, always looking for the hint of good in even the worst of people and events, searching for ways to make things better. While they may be perceived as calm, reserved, or even shy, INFPs have an inner flame and passion that can truly shine. Comprising just 4% of the population, the risk of feeling misunderstood is unfortunately high for the INFP personality type – but when they find like-minded people to spend their time with, the harmony they feel will be a fountain of joy and inspiration." 

After reading this there was no doubt in my mind the test was accurate. This couldn't be more true for me, especially that last part. Reading on just reaffirmed this assurance, but also validated who I am & allowed me to be more accepting to myself unconditionally. (apparently INFPs are known to be hard on themselves). My fascination is further explained by the fact that understanding themselves and their place in the world is important to INFPs.

Without going into too much detail (as I am sure you aren't as fascinated by my personality type as I am) there were a few key things that really resonated with me & helped me to understand some of the odd challenges I face. For example, I have a phone phobia. It seems ridiculous & my husband laughs about it, but speaking on the phone makes me extremely uncomfortable so I will do what I can to avoid having to make a phone call. This has been amplified since having kids. I have always been aware of this odd anxiety, & found it even stranger that it didn't get easier with experience. To my surprise the personality type explanation on the said website explains where this anxiety comes from

"INFPs prefer to conduct in person, for that personal touch, or in writing, where they can compose and perfect their statements. People with the INFP personality type avoid using phones if they can, having the worst of both worlds, being both detached and uncomposed." 

Who knew?!

Understanding my personality allows me to understand better how I fit into my world. These insights have been helpful in understanding my relationships - my marriage, my friendships, the people I am drawn to & those rare deep personal connections.  It has reaffirmed my creative spirit, outlets for self-expression & it has shed clarity on the challenges I face. My desire to know myself better, fascination with the psyche, idealistic views, constant soul searching clarified. Also, it has given me permission (and reminds me) to accept others for their differences, & to realize that our unique traits are not downfalls but what makes we as humans function together.

What type are you? Are there any other INFPs out there? I encourage you to try out the simplified  online test. You might learn something about yourself!

https://www.16personalities.com/free-personality-test

(Fun fact: my 2 closest friends are INFJs, the rarest of all personality types!)

Letter to a Lost Friend

It's closing in on a whole year from the day you were taken from us. It has been a difficult year, one of the - if not the - most mentally challenging in my life. Not only has missing you brought me a lot of sadness, it has amplified my emotions & brought up grief for other lost relationships in my life. I never could have imagined the effect losing you so suddenly would have on my life & because of that I wish I would have made more of an effort to spend more time with you. It took not having the option to talk to you to really reflect on our relationship & what it meant to me. I made a promise to spread love & positivity, be a cheerleader for others, make more of an effort to stay in touch with the people most important to me & create more experiences & adventures with my family, just as you did every day. Shortly after the accident I had a vision of you walking toward me with your usual enthusiasm & a huge smile that showed you were genuinely really happy to see me. I want to have that effect on others.  But I can't help but feel like I have failed at this so far. It is like someone has dimmed the lights & it takes so much more energy to navigate my way around. I am tired. My emotions are heightened like senses trying to compensate for the inability to see clearly. My sad feels sadder, my love feels longing, & the occasional burst of gratitude feels more thankful. I feel deeper & am unsure of how to deal with these emotions. At the end of the day I find it very difficult to find the energy to fulfil these promises I made to myself, to you. But I know you would be very forgiving, because that's who you are. Your optimistic attitude would pick the positives out of each situation & assure me it will all work out in the end. I'm still looking for my way into the sun, so that I can forgive myself too. And  as I turn each corner it gets a little brighter & slightly easier to navigate my way out of this dark hallway. From you I find glimpses of optimism, of hope, I hold onto them, knowing that, in time, I will eventually find that better version of myself I promised to be.

Grief

Jan 4. 2016 I received a message on Facebook from Chanda's brother asking me to call him. Strange, I thought. No, it can't be bad news. Maybe they are planning a surprise for her. But there was an alarm of urgency so I called him immediately. He asked if I was sitting down. I sat down. Not good news. Chanda & her entire family had been in a car accident the night before. Chanda & her husband Jordan didn't make it. Their kids, close in age with my two oldest, were taken to the hospital, Where Maguire passed away & Kamryn was on life support. They were just saying their goodbyes to her. Instant shock. Light headed. Denial of my ow. Feelings. All I could think was how hard this must be for her brother, to have to call all her friends & deliver this tragic news. And grateful f or including me so I didn't have to hear it from the media. I called my mom & choked out the mews. I think she was as shocked as I was.

It was a drunk driver that crashed into Chanda & Jordan. At first, I was angry. Angry at people for making the decision to drink & drive. But my anger subsided quickly. I wanted to spend my energy on the legacy of my friend & her family.

The next week passed by in slow motion. Sleep was non-existent, I just couldn't turn it off. At first I'm embarrassed to say I was in denial of the extent of my relationship with Chanda. We were so many people closer to her than me, we hardly talked, we weren't that close. I didn't deserve to feel sorry for myself, when there were so many people, namely their family, who have been hit so much harder by this tragedy. Save the grief for them.  But the truth was Chanda was one of my oldest, dearest friends - we grew up with a shared passion for hockey, spent every day together on & off the ice during university, she was the only friend I knew in Moose Jaw when we moved here & I had the honour of being a bridesmaid at her & Jordan's wedding. As our families grew, we saw less & less of one another, but she always made a point of checking in genuinely interested in my well being & always cheering me on no matter what was happening in my life. In retrospect it seems pretty silly to think that wasn't a valid enough reason to feel sad when I lost her, but perhaps this was my minds way of trying not to feel so much at once.

The accident created questions, life didn't seem as simple as it once was. I suddenly felt very vulnerable. The what ifs. How a split second would have changed their fate. How being in the wrong place at the wrong time changed everything. How is this fair? Why them? Chanda & Jordan made such a positive impact on the people around them. This world needs them. Their loved ones need them. My children became vulnerable too. How is it possible for the lives of children that young to end so suddenly? It could have been us.

During those first couple weeks I was consumed, obsessed with social media.  Jordan had a pretty high profile through his photography & his friends were bringing people together through Facebook. Looking for a place where my feelings, my sadness was validated, & that was it. It was a place of hope, sharing, support, understanding & I spent hours looking to fill the huge void I had in my heart. I connected with others who knew Chanda as well or better than me.  I was inspired by the amount of people that joined in celebrating this beautiful family & it helped to process infinite spiral of thoughts swirling in my head. Constantly reminded to not take life for granted.

The funeral was tough, but helped to lift a weight that bared my shoulders...a little bit of closure. Seeing our old hockey friends, most of who I have lost touch with, was a bit nostalgic. It gave me that feeling of belonging, & reminded me of how tight we once were. Another little reminder of cherishing my relationships & experiences.

It wasn't long before all the media & Facebook hype wore off & coping became a little harder, that support network was diffusing. I was no longer surrounded by the attention this tragedy had been getting & the world had started to move on, but I hadn't really. I still wanted to talk about it because what I felt was so strong. But people got weird when I would bring it up. I felt like it made them uncomfortable. They didn't understand (how could they?) I felt like it was old news, so I shared less & less. In fear of making others uncomfortable or bringing them down, I kept most of what I felt unsaid.

The trial consumed me as much as the initial days following the accident. I was hit unexpected by the need to follow & spent the entire day following. News stations were tweeting a play-by-play of victim impact statements & I couldn't stop reading them. I was given the opportunity to write one, but chose to pass it up...I imagined how hard it was for Chanda & Jordan's closest family & friends to talk about how this affected them.

I could never had predicted how much losing a friend would affect my life over the last year. And although with time it has gotten a little easier, there are still changes I notice that loom. First the anxiety. Something that hasn't really been an issue for me since my early 20s.waves of it creep up on me & it's mere presence concerns me. Sometime I can't even decipher its source or what I am anxious about, it's just that wound up feeling inside, making me feel all amped up. I start to focus on things that feed it. Other times I worry about things I normally wouldn't & it feels out of character. I worry more about my children, having flashes of terrible things happening to them. I drive with nervey caution & often have visions or thoughts of other cars crashing into me. One time I lost track of my baby for a minute & started to panick. I had thoughts of him choking unconscious on his bedroom floor. Thoughts of police at my door with bad new stuff about my husband while he was working the night shift. Things that never used to consume my thoughts so often. Bad news in the world hits me so much harder than it would normally, it seems like such a waste to worry about all these things beyond my control.

I've lost interest in things I used to really enjoy & lack the motivation to go do them. Working out (despite telling myself I would take better care of myself with respect to Chanda who always encouraged me to push myself to my best) has become difficult & like a chore. Even hockey, my best sport, isn't as appealing as it used to be. I have more health problems, food sensitivities, injuries than I have in years. On low days we don't leave the house, the thought of hauling everyone out is completely overwhelming.

I used to get a lot out of being around other people, going to gatherings, a break from home. It took a while to realize that I wasn't feeling any less stressed after a night out, sometimes it just caused more anxiety. Until this year, I've always felt a social responsibility to go out of my way to make sure the people around me are happy, but I stopped caring to do that, I just didn't have the energy. Giving to my children I see about all I can muster up these days taking a toll on my relationship with my husband, my very understanding husband.

I made a promise to myself & to Chanda, her family, that I would live life more fully, with more intention. To spread positivit as they had, to ask others about what's going on. I their lives like Chanda did always with me. To smile more. To make more of an effort to keep in touch with the important people in my life. To love more. To take my kids outside more, go on more family adventures, focus less on the material & emphasize experiences, like Chanda & Jordan. I had a vivid dream of Chanda with her big smile walking toward me as if she was genuinely really happy to see me. It made me feel like somebody important.  I want to make others feel that way too. At first I was so inspired to be this person, but with time it has become more difficult to get there. Guilt for not keeping to my promise sits in the pit of my stomach.

Not all bad has come from this, as much as it saddens me, sometimes it takes something drastic to make a real impact. For me, I am much more conscientious about the time I spend with my children. Rules of less time on our phones, & more face to face interactions. Taking time to talk to my kids about the important things in life. Teaching them to be true to themselves & do what is right. This has been my focus. Letting go of material possession with much more ease, in realization that they do not contribute to my happiness & at times bring more stress to my life. I've learned to let go of a certain level of perfection & to be kind to myself during my struggle. Lower expeciations & shift my focus to the most important aspects. Lessened value of material stuff, heightened value in experience & relationships. Taking care of my own needs, rather than putting others before mine when it becomes detrimental to my mental health. Touch base with the friends I don't hear from often & even be more open with the people in my life, expressing my gratitude for their presence in my life. This is a work in progress none-the-less, but something I have become better at it. I know this low won't last forever, & although I do think this loss will have changed my life from that moment, and although I have a ways to go, I do think it will make me a better person in the long run.