Perhaps it’s a new decade en route that’s turning on these inspiration, change and action switches. I’ve never been a huge resolution or goal setter … I’m more of a drink a bottle of champagne, get ridiculous and throw my full pack of cigarettes off the balcony at midnight kinda gal.

This year is different though. I mean, it’s a new decade with a zero at the end. It’s so big. We’ve got another block of ten solid years now to do shit and look back in the days before December 31, 2019 and go, wow … we did something.

The concept is mind boggling in ways that I can’t even begin to describe, so forgive me if it’s just another year to you. To me it’s massive.

It’s like, okay … I’m done dicking around now. I’ve had my experiences, learned an ocean full of lessons, loved hard, hurt hard, lived hard, played hard, struggled hard and dreamed hard.

Over the span of ten years I’ve accomplished and grown a lot. Girl to woman. Club kid to having kids. Hating myself to loving myself. Walking in the door and going to bed at 6am to walking out the door and going to work at 6am.

I’ve come a long way when I think that at this exact time ten years ago, my nose was inches above a neat line of cocaine a top a glass mirror at the first party of a week long bender in Whistler to welcome in the year 2000.

2000 – 2009. Epic ten years. Fun years. Drunk years. Learning years. Heart swelling and heart shattering years. Broke years. Growing up years. Baby years. Learning to be a mom years. Coming into myself years.

And now it’s time to take all of that wonderous life, put it in bucket and throw it on the fire I have building inside.

A new decade.

Ten years to make magic happen, to travel, to create, to have green plants, to stop talking about it and start putting it into action, to detoxify my body, to drink water and glow, to drink tea, to eat green things, to reduce, to move into a home for my children to grow in, to date this amazing man who seems to adore me, to ask for help from family and friends and stop pretending like I’ve got it all under control all of the time, to continue doing everything hard and with passion, to never smile and say everything’s okay when everything is not okay as I’ve done so much on this blog in the past, to dream the wildest dreams, to carry a notebook and camera and record life as it happens, to kiss more and hug harder and say I love you – I seriously, madly, truly love you – as much as possible, to create good food, to live minimally and without clutter, to eliminate all debt and save money, to become educated, to help you realize your full potential and beauty, to tell you what I see in you, to encourage your passions, to make sure you know you’re significant and that I believe in you and your dreams.

To smile.

I think the world needs more.

More belief in the impossible.
More sleeping to dream.
More beauty.
More plants.
More giving.
More creation.
More books.
More water.
More action.
More positivity.
More inspiration.
More tea.
More hope.
More soul.
More great love stories.
More peace.
More real.
More glow.
More ease.
More giving.
More helping.
More handwriting.
More sharing.
More forgiveness.
More random acts of kindness.
More saving.
More evolving.
More letting go.
More outside the box.
More hands outstretched.
More adventure.
More understanding.
More breathing.
More unique.
More minimal.
More health.
More green.
More individual.
More passion.

Just more.

I’m going to be more. That’s my resolution.

2010 thru 2019?

‘Tis our decade. Lets make it matter.

As I sit down to write a long overdue post I wonder how do I even begin to explain magic? Which words are fitting to describe something that only myself and twenty family and friends were privy to?

How do I tell you about this fullness in my heart and happiness in my entire being and to whom do I give thanks for the total and complete beauty that was December 24th and 25th?

I don’t know.

There are so many stories to tell, so many thoughts and feelings to share, absolutely heartfelt gifts to mention and thanks to be given to twenty people who contributed to the magic.

I’ve been sitting here for over an hour attempting to write the events of the past few days. There has been so much love, so much giving, so many extra tight hugs, lingering kisses, spontaneous dances under the stars and moon, ridiculous amounts of champagne and wine, so few hours of sleep, so many Tylenol, smiles, laughs, excellent food, hands held and prayers prayed, cooking adventures, broken sinks, sweets, toasts and clinking glasses, music, friends, happy tears and gratitude.

Everyone has just been grateful for the warmth of family, friends and good health. Nothing else matters. We are so rich.

It’s difficult to put into words how full I am at this very moment so I won’t for now and perhaps the stories and pictures will slip out over the weeks. Or maybe they’ll stay inside my heart forever. Right now it just kind of feels like a secret that only twenty people get the know because they were there.

I hope you and your families were able to capture this same feeling over the past few days …

Love and gratitude.

Magic.

In your arms is my safest place in the world …

You’ve got the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen …

I love the way you blush so easily …

Remember when you used to tell me fairy tales to fall asleep to? I still haven’t forgotten those …

Your support – no matter how wrong my decisions and actions have been in the past – has been one of the most important gestures of love I’ve ever experienced in my life …

I miss driving around aimlessly and singing with you in the early AM hours and stopping to watch the sun rise …

I don’t know what I’d do without our daily 45 minute long phone calls …

Thank you for being my constant friend and never letting go of my hand …

You look absolutely adorable fresh out of the shower …

That comment you left meant more to me than you’ll ever know …

Every time you kiss me on the cheek on the way out the door, sunshine fills my morning even on the rainiest days …

We’ve had so many fierce arguments but in the end you always make sure that I know you love me. You’ve taught me the true meaning of forgiveness and never going to sleep angry …

Your laugh makes me laugh …

Your mouth and lips have made me compare every other person’s to yours and no one’s have ever come close …

You live so far away … in another city, province, country or continent … but I dream of popping over and sharing a bottle of wine with you …

Remember that time we sat in your parked car listening to Eminem’s ‘Lose Yourself’ rocking out to it’s awesomeness on repeat the first day it came out? I’ll never forget that hour as long as I live and every time I hear it I think of you and me that night …

Remember sitting on your patio in the ghetto smoking joint after joint, drinking No Name orange punch overlooking the highway while making plans to bust out of that hell on earth? Remember how shitty we thought it was at the time? Well, I’d give anything to be back on that patio in the ghetto overlooking the highway with you. It was magic.

When you dress up in my clothes and shoes and call yourselves Jennifer, my heart melts. You want to be me and I want you to be you but you have no idea how much that makes my heart smile …

I love when you talk. Your voice is like music to my ears and all I want to do is sit there silently and listen to you say words …

You are the one person in this world I want to lay beneath the sky and watch shooting stars with …

Thank you for not stopping making me laugh until you see tears down my cheeks …

Thank you for reading my blog. I’m not a writer or funny or popular and a lot of this is just thinking out loud for no rhyme or reason … but the fact you actually make a point of coming here and reading my words makes happy and makes me want to share my thoughts more often. I adore and appreciate your friendship …

Thank you for having passion in life. You inspire me to create and dream and believe in myself and it’s a real honour to know you …

Thank you for having an opinion of your own, for being your own and for not being swayed by trends, fads and cool kids. You’re good people and the universe has something special in store for you …

Thank you for being honest with me while being kind at the same time. It’s a skill that not too many people have and it’s very refreshing …

You’re etched into my soul forever and I wouldn’t have it any other way …

Thanks for sharing that song/video/thought/quote/picture … it made me stop, think and feel something different for a moment. Every time I hear it, see it or read it I think of you …

When you call me beautiful it makes me feel like a princess …

You are destined for greatness and I can’t wait to see you succeed. When you do, I’ll be there giving a toast and celebrating the night away with you …

Your smile is the most beautiful thing about you …

Your photos and creations are things of pure beauty. I hope you realize that and pursue it as a career one day. I will be one of your most devoted customers …

I can’t wait to walk down an aisle to your side, surrounded by our family and friends wearing a pretty dress and holding white lilies tied with a simple white ribbon. And how handsome and charming you will look …

I can’t wait to fight back tears from the moment I wake up that morning till they flood when you read what will probably be some deep and poetic words. I can’t wait for you to make me and everyone laugh to lighten the atmosphere, as you do so well. I can’t wait to breathe a sigh of relief when the last tear has fallen and the only tears that await me are the ones of pure happiness in the fact every single person we love is in one room enjoying themselves.

I can’t wait for a night of good music and dancing and champagne and excellent food to celebrate US finally putting a ring on it. I can’t wait for that party …

And if we can never afford that party, I still can’t wait to grow old with you and wake up every single morning next to you. When our girls are grown and gone, I want the twenty year old us’s to be reborn and while we might not be able to smoke the weed or drink the drinks or walk around the city forever and hike the highest peaks like we used to, I want to see the world with your hand in mine …

You are my best friend in the world …

I love you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I’ve heard and read so many people ask this time of year, “What do I get for the person who has everything?”

And I often want to say, “Write him/her a letter”

The art of pen to paper is dying and it’s a sad trend.

You might think it’s hard or goofy or pointless in a shiny, technology enhanced world … but it’s the one thing that your loved ones can look back on when everything else is broken beyond repair.

Find some paper, pick up a pen and write a letter. Three or four are going to be written over the next couple of days, too … my hand is going to hurt but it’s going to be so worth it. A handwritten letter touches the soul and brings it to life unlike any Apple product or flat screen TV or wad of twenties ever will.

If you don’t know what to get someone important in your life, a letter from you will be the most special thing they could ever receive. If they don’t find your heart and effort absolutely magical then they’re probably not meant to be and if they ask, “Now where’s my real present?” Well, then I’m very sorry.

An iPod Touch or Burton riding jacket or shiny necklace or pile of presents will not be remembered in those moments at the end. Ever.

I promise.

Life’s becoming hectic with Christmas around the corner and inspiration to create tomes of thought and feeling is fleeting with a week or so to go. Expect nothing from me in terms of blogging this next little while unless you want to hear about Wednesday evenings spent stroking and smelling things at Pier 1 Imports or 75% chances of attending a Vancouver Canucks game on Friday night or how much I love the smell of wrapping paper or how I covet Cranberry scent from The Body Shop or how happy Christmas lights make me or that Sarah McLachlan’s Wintersong album is playing almost non-stop at my house with brief intermissions to watch the Christmas versions Toopy and Binoo and Little Bear. Typical December stuff here.

So.

Back to the Best of ‘09 Blog Challenge. All of it’s details can be found here.

Tonight I’m going to do Day 11 – 17.

December 11 – The best place. A coffee shop? A pub? A retreat center? A cubicle? A nook?

1. My soaker tub full of Lush product and lit by candlelight, ahhhhhhhh!

2. The amphitheater at Lighthouse Park in West Vancouver. Seriously, the most quiet and meditative place in Greater Vancouver.

3. A suite at GM Place.

4. Electronic Arts Burnaby studio. The creative energy that rolls through that place is indescribable. One of my favorite places to hang out with my man and to see him in (sexy, working) action.

December 12 – New food. You’re now in love with Lebanese food and you didn’t even know what it was in January of this year.

Hot sauces, hot peppers, curries … HAWT STUFF. Just typing that makes my mouth water. Though I’ve always known of heat and liked it, this year I’ve become obsessed with it.

December 13 – What’s the best change you made to the place you live?

Colin moved back home for good, actually unpacking his bags. The girls stopped sleeping in my bed with me, moved back to their own room and were replaced with a warm body to spoon or be spooned by. Corny, I know … but what can I say? He’s better than a home reno, paint job or shelving unit.

December 14 – Rush. When did you get your best rush of the year?

This has the potential of having a very dirty answer. So I’ll leave it at no comment for the sake of a PG-13 rated blog

December 15 – Best packaging. Did your headphones come in a sweet case? See a bottle of tea in another country that stood off the shelves?

December 16 – Tea of the year. I can taste my favorite tea right now. What’s yours?

I’m a hardcore coffee lover and can’t get on board with tea yet to the extent of having a favorite. I do enjoy the green and herbal fruit teas though.

December 17 – Word or phrase. A word that encapsulates your year. “2009 was _____.”

Electric.

Every feeling and emotion was amplified x100 and I’m so grateful to look back and realize how alive inside I’ve felt through it all.

Whether it was wanted, scared, discarded, broken, raw, hurt, jealous, loved, hated, hugged, confused, high five’d, kissed, danced with, twirled, dipped, complimented, flattered, cuddled, studied, questioned, doubted, patted on the back, RT’d and shared, happy, peaceful, calm, fulfilled, etc…

2009 was electric and alive.

And while I plan on it being far more balanced and healthy in 2010, I’m still going to live for those sparks in many areas … those truly alive moments are what make life worth living.

I’ve never been one to force the Santa experience on my kids.

As newborns, Col and I bundled them up and as they slept in Santa’s arms, a picture was taken. At one, we didn’t bother – they weren’t old enough to grasp the concept.

At two, they asked to sit on his lap but didn’t really dig it. The picture hanging on the wall from that year is one of two fearful, white little faces and four watery, wide eyes.

At three, I asked them most days if they wanted to go sit on Santa’s lap, but they chose to watch him from above, behind the glass, one floor above where the North Pole was set up in the mall.

Again this year, I put no pressure on them – it’s just not my style to push anything on these kids but especially not the big man of the season!

We were at the mall the day Santa arrived at the end of November, watching from behind the glass. A few days later we stood at the white gate surrounding the North Pole, their hands in mine. Any time I tried to inch a little closer I’d feel the death grip pulling me back.

Every morning as I help them dress I ask, “Do you want to go see Santa today?” And every morning the answer is the same, “I’m not ready yet, mama”.

But yesterday morning I when I asked …

Lily, “Yea!”

Callie, “Mmmhmmm!”

We stood in a short line and observed the awesome decorations of a makeshift North Pole. I picked them up in my arms for a better view, said how proud I was of them, kissed their rosy cheeks and said I loved them while pulling off winter toques and flattening static filled hair. Then Callie said she had a secret to tell me.

“When I sit on Santa’s lap, can you hold my hand?” she whispered.

“Of course, sweetie”.

We made it to the front of the line in about ten minutes. I filled out the form for an $18 photo. Yes, $18 for one sheet. Robbery. But some of these occasions are worth marking, no matter the price.

As we walked, I reached for Callie’s hand and she said, “It’s okay, mama. I’m gonna be brave.”

The looks in their eyes as they walked up to Santa were full of wonder and awe. I actually started tearing up right there as I lifted them to his lap. Callie looked scared, so I walked over and took her hand as planned, but she shook her head softly.

Three photos were taken, all of them beautiful smiles.

Afterward, I walked back as Santa asked what they wanted for Christmas,

“A sparkling reindeer Christmas pillow”, answered Callie.

“A pony” answered Lily.

“A real pony?” asked Santa.

“A My Little Pony” said Lils.

(Whew!)

Santa gave them the coveted candy canes, I paid for the picture and the three of us sat outside the white gate looking at the *photo and checking out the crayons and activity books from the elves. I told them how proud I was of them, how brave they were and asked them what they thought of Santa.

“I love Santa!” they both said in unison.

Callie tapped my shoulder and whispered into my ear again, “Santa only brings one present and I asked for a sparkling reindeer Christmas pillow.”

(Thankully Colin knows what that is because I sure don’t! He says it’s at Pier 1 Imports … expensive tastes, sweet child).

Later that day we called Daddy and Gramma anybody else who’d listen.

As Callie sat on her bed talking to my mom while I folded laundry, all I heard was,

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, sparkling reindeer Christmas pillow, yeah, yeah, candy cane, yeah, yeah … ” and then a very loud, clear and matter of factly,

“Santa’s a nice guy!”

Proud, proud mommy moment here.

*I’d love to include the picture but it was an additional $15 for a CD with one image. Ridiculousness!

Regardless of if this changes or not from now till Friday, it’s still going to be the greatest weekend ever. I’ve been waiting for it forever!

You see, Friday is payday which means we can start really getting into the season. When I said in my last post, “the harsh reality that is life right now”, it was totally about money. Or lack thereof. Like, serious lack.

Some of you might think that because I’m a stay at home mom, it’s because we can afford it, but the truth is, we sacrifice HUGELY in the finances department. Actually, we weren’t coming out ahead nor breaking even when the girls were in junior K either, but anyway.

There are very few ‘wants’ or luxuries anymore as our income just barely covers our needs. Long gone are the days of hair colouring, eating out, DVD rentals, spa treatments, fresh organic power juices, buying books, music, etc.

And while that may seem sad, it’s really not and I’m not complaining; we still have our indulgences. But anything above and beyond basic needs, is indulgence and so totally appreciated, like our Canucks TV package, the Granville Island Winter Ale we drank the other night … and the hoodie and tank Col surprised me with last weekend from Old Navy.

We’ve adapted to being broke, living paycheque to paycheque, borrowing money when we fall short and have accepted that there’s no getting ahead while I’m home with the girls. As long as we have a roof over our heads, food to cook, warmth and each other then we’re going to be okay. Our high rolling days were over the minute we saw two heartbeats during the ultrasound and won’t start up again for about 14 years

Anyway, the state of financial affairs means that while I’ve jazzed up the house with Christmas decorations I already had on hand, the Christmas season doesn’t really commence until Friday. I haven’t bought a single Christmas present (no worries, my list is tiny this year) or baked a cookie or hung stockings or even bought a tree yet … and this weekend is it!

The fact that it’s supposed to snow is just like icing on the awesome cake!

So, Friday kicks off with shopping. Wake up early in the morning and hit the grocery store where I intend to shop for all of my baking ingredients and stock up on supplies to make these yummy chicken enchiladas I saw on Carrie’s blog last night.

Then we’ll head back out, pick up a bunch of presents, supplies and try to get the majority of our list crossed off, minus the Toys R’ Us trip where 80% of our purchases are being made.

Friday night is Colin’s Christmas party and they’ve cut budgets so much that there’s no big gala anymore, rather, private department parties within the studio. It’s not really mentioned if spouses are welcome, but I don’t want to go anyway and Col can have a night out with the boys while I bake the enchiladas for the girls, my brother and whoever else wants to join us and watch a bunch of Christmas movies and Flashpoint. Yeah!

The rest of the weekend will include buying a tree, decorating it and fully Christmasifying our humble abode. Saturday and Sunday will be days of baking and decorating cookies with the girls and maybe, just maybe …

PLAYING IN THE SNOW!?!

Holy moly! I’ve never been so excited for a Friday and weekend in my whole life.

What I wouldn’t give to live up in northern Ontario this time of year…

Where the dads make ice rinks in their backyards.

Where the hot cocoa flows.

Where a snow blower is a fixture, a tractor snow plow makes you the coolest person on the block and a snow shovel is child’s play.

Where skates line mud rooms amongst hockey sticks.

Where mass pandemonium doesn’t break at calls of flurries.

Where dinners out are at the local, privately owned diner.

Where sunshine shines and nature’s diamonds glint from snowbanks and rooftops.

Where rosy red cheeks and noses require kisses and warm breaths and a mother’s hot touch.

Where Tim Horton’s is a 5am trek and it’s coffee is a treat to the one you love, in bed.

Where kids know to pee before snowsuits are snapped in place.

Where you plug your car battery in each night.

A land of crackling, log-fueled fireplaces.

A land of snowmen.

A land of snowflakes falling on your nose, cheeks and tongue.

A land where toques and thick wool scarves are a necessity, not a fashion statement.

A land of silence.

A land where you hear a person’s approach to your house by the sound of the snow crunching beneath them.

A land of premium snow tires and chains.

A land of taking star-filled family walks toting thermal mugs of Baileys and hot chocolate in one hand and kiddie hot chocolate in the other.

A land where the moon stands solid, mighty and firm in a pitch black sky.

Where looking out of your bedroom window is a surprise every single waking moment.

Where families gather around frozen ponds.

Where kisses are had in front of fireplaces amongst candles.

Where shoveling a walkway is not a chore, rather, a pleasure.

Where the neighbor’s cold children pound on your door and ask, “Can Callie and Lily come out to play?” and you invite them to stand in your warm entrance to heat their frozen feet on radiant heated tiling.

Where the community gathers at pee wee hockey games, women sell their baked goods and 50/50 tickets … and dads are on the bench coaching.

What I wouldn’t give.

And all of that from a Canadian Tire commercial I saw this morning. Wow!

I want to take a moment to thank my mom and dad. You see, there’s this magic in my own daughters right now. At four, they believe; they dream and hope and wish.

Thank you.

I used to rise on Christmas morning with my heart fluttering. After waking up my little brother, we’d creep slowly downstairs, anticipation mounting, until we saw it. Two full stockings, two little piles of presents in front of the fireplace, a plate minus cookies, a few chomps taken out of the carrots we’d left for Rudolph and an empty glass of milk.

Tiptoeing over, we’d get on our knees to examine the gifts. In his handwriting the tags read, Merry Christmas, Jennifer/Jeffrey. Love, Santa. Thrilling! Santa had flown through the air – just as the news report the night before had said he was – had landed on our roof and had been inside OUR house!

Pure magic.

A magic that, as a parent myself now, will be recreated over and over again until my daughters are adults doing the same thing for their children.

A magic that is still in my heart.

When kids told me that Santa Clause wasn’t real or when I found the baby blanket I’d left by the fireplace one Christmas Eve in a box in storage, I asked my mom.

“Do you believe in your heart that Santa is real, Jen?”

Yes.

“Then that’s all that matters.”

So, thank you mom and dad. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing me to believe, to dream, to wish, to imagine and for the ability to share with my daughters the same gift.

I still believe.

And nothing or nobody will take that away from us.

As the days go by and 2009 comes to an end, I find myself reflecting quite often from a really good place.

Last night I searched for a previous post and ended up reading my blog in its entirety. So much of the darkness and anger has been deleted, but thanks to the all-mighty Google Reader, I could read everything minus the items that I’d password protected before deleting … and to be perfectly honest, those posts aren’t something I would ever want to read again so I was grateful for that.

Still, wow. Geez. Wowers. Holy moly. 2009 was quite the year.

Following is a summary of what have been the most defining moments of ‘09, and quite possibly, my life.

Love Lost

Sometime in February I lost a constant friend and love so dear to my heart that it broke to the point of thinking it would kill me. The situation was so truly impossible, so impossibly real, really so wrong … but I was mad in love and thought wild thoughts and dreamed wild dreams and it was like being an addict on a euphoric wonder drug – a selfish addict with very little thought to six lives that were being affected by my actions in worlds both near and far.

When you’re that wildly in love with another soul – not a husband, father, provider but an individual – it seems like absolutely anything is possible doesn’t it? Fly? Sure. Move a mountain? Why not? Break six hearts so two can come together? Possibly. Experiencing love like that in friendship – regardless of if it was right or wrong – was so mighty and beautiful at the time. And when my greatest hopes and dreams and visions were shattered, on top of losing my closest friend, I went a bit crazy.

Crazy

Ahhh, crazy. Manic, obsessive, delusional, demented, lunatic, mad, psychotic, rabid, unbalanced, jealous, freaky, psycho-bitch crazy. Pain and anger spewing and gushing and leeching one minute, pretending to be so happy and well and declarations of being over it the next; sadness and suffering in its rawest form. I’m still shocked I had friends here at that point.

True Colours

Words written about me, to me, for me. Words that were meant to decimate and hurt and stab for whatever fucked up reasoning these people had; words I’ve forgotten but will forever remind me of the type of person, writer and tyrant I never want to become. Taking someone’s current suffering and pain – no matter whether they’ve created it for themselves or felt victimized or not – and stabbing it repeatedly within an inch of its death. These people sat on their asses and laptops being unknowing fifth parties, talking shit down from their pedestals to a hurting and weak target about something they were privy to very few details of. I say this with no hate, anger, negativity, hurt or victimization in my heart, but I say it very loudly, clearly, and blatantly and with as much honesty and strength as I can with a pen:

Fuck you.

And that goes for anyone who gets their validation, pleasure, peace of mind and shits and giggles from kicking someone when they’re down as well as anyone who gathers around to watch and fist pound each other while someone gets shit kicked.

Fuck you, too.

No human deserves that regardless of their mistakes whether they see them or not. That’s for them to learn for themselves, not for you to teach and nothing but human dysfunction and overinflated ego. Because of that I’ve been able not only to forgive myself for bullying I’ve done in my years as a blogger and fear mongering towards a man and family that did not deserve my wrath, but also these people who went out of their way to make sure my neck was in place on a curb and adequately stomped on.

And thank you to the others – whether you knew everything and all parties involved or not – for staying out of it regardless of how ridiculous and pitiful I was – and for sticking around. You guys have blown my mind with your shades and colours. You gave me hope and constant friendship when I had none of either.

Therapy

There came a point a few months later that I really couldn’t breathe, function, focus or go a day without crying over something. Weeks upon weeks were spent on some strange and wonderous auto-pilot that allowed me to get from point A to B to C and back. Everything at the time was a blur and I was really just a sad, pitiful, miserable mess. I drank a lot, smoked a lot, yelled a lot and pretended everything was okay a lot. It was not awesome and the big act was destroying me.

One day when shit was so utterly bleak and dreary and gray that I felt like I’d rather die than wake up one more morning to see a huge fuck up every time I looked in the mirror, I looked into the eyes of my daughters and decided to make a phone call. Two days later I was seeing a therapist. I don’t believe in antidepressants for myself, so it was either get help ASAP or else accidently jump in front of my AM Westbound train, and yes, I really did feel that much like shit.

Once a week, then every two weeks and then once a month, I sat in a small room in a beautiful, creaky old house filled with massage therapists, spiritual healers, aqua therapists and naturopaths. Sometimes all I did was cry for 55 minutes, other times I’d learn how to turn off autopilot and talk again – it was a bit like what I bet it feels like to be a baby but without being swaddled and held.

I’d never felt such a pure emotional release as I did when I was with my therapist … how amazing was it to tell an unbiased third party every single ugly detail of myself? Totally amazing. How freeing was it to say, “I’m the biggest fuck up in the entire world because I loved and trusted and believed and wanted something so badly with someone who was married with kids and a life nowhere near my own and in the process I broke the heart of a man I love very much – the father of my children – who never stopped loving me or believing in us”? Very.

And then nothing else mattered except being able to cry the ugly cry after my therapist smiled and said, “That’s very normal. So, what do you love about him, Jen?” The tears, oh my God. The breathing, the meditation, the opening of an emotional dam in a place that smelled of lavender and tea where I could say anything, feel anything and not worry about hurting another person.

It was so good for me … finding out that I’m actually normal and shit happens.

Anger

But I was still very, very angry and pissed off at myself for my shitty, ridiculous life. How did I get here, why did I let myself arrive at this fucked up place where no one is ever happy or appreciative and everything sucks? I was angry at the world and starting to get that restless feeling again, like, imagine if I just left one day and never came back.

Then one day Colin and I had an argument – I can’t remember what it was even about now – and I threw a laptop I’m still financing to this day onto ceramic tiling and killed it. It was in the following moments that I realized even though therapy was working in the healing of my heart and self confidence, anger still bubbled away in my veins and every single person and thing in the household was affected by my raging tantrums.

I had to take a good, long, solid look at myself in the mirror a few times a day and ask, “What the hell are you so angry about today?” I had to learn how to breathe properly and relax and most importantly, stop destroying electronics to make a point. Throwing shit like that isn’t normal and if something didn’t give, I’d probably hurt someone I loved in one of my rages.

Sadness

What happened next happened so fast and so intensely and it really kind of sucked. I let a handful of you read the grizzly details in a protected post, but basically, my heart was busted open once again and my world was ending again and how much can a person’s heart break in one year before it becomes permanently broken? I depended 100% on you guys to tell me what to do. It was the final blow and I was in no shape to do anything except write about it and it was you guys who picked me up, brushed me off, straightened my shoulders, gave me a huge hug, knocked my chin back up and pushed me forward. I learned the true meaning of what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger … how to let things go, move on and that the past really is, history.

Quitting a Career

In late July I cut ties to a company that took me in as a mere baby at 22, educated me, taught me and paid me an excellent income and bonuses. After I had children, they rolled with the waves of my motherhood by providing me with full-time, part-time and weekend-only employment as I needed it. Knowing that I always had my foot in the door and an option to go back was my financial and sanity safety net. But one day I just couldn’t take it anymore – dropping my kids off at daycare … the deadlines … the office politics … being so busy that I brought work home every night and did that instead of spending time with Colin or taking care of myself – and left for good, letting a girl with no children or responsibilities take my spot. I cut my safety net away to raise my children for the last year before they start their own educations.

Not having that safety net has allowed me to really think about what I want to do with my life and being a career woman in the financial industry is most definitely not it. In leaving, I’ve been able to dream, research and look deep into my heart to discover what I’d like to do with the rest of my life … and as a result, I’ve found a calling with endless fulfillment and promise.

Jason Mraz

Being able to see Jason Mraz perform live was one of the highlights of my year. Sure, I enjoy his music and going to the show was an exciting prospect. What I didn’t expect was something to change inside of me that night. You see, that dude grooves. He’s ridiculously gentle and positive and inspiring and the light that oozes out of him is wonderous. In concert, he insists that you drop your fear of looking stupid and insecurities. He makes you participate by singing and dancing and high fiving strangers sitting around you. He uses words like brothers and sisters and family and one love and the way he moves his body and uses his voice is so mighty and free. He has no fear and his ease and peace is felt and absorbed. Most importantly, he’s eternally grateful for life and love and expresses his gratitude to the world through his art. The result is a truly magical person.

That night, I left my fear at GM Place and became free. I became grateful to be alive and love became the only thing that defines me; it became my religion. I learned that love is the most powerful action in the entire world and practice it every single day as fiercely as I can. As a result, I’ve become tolerant, compassionate, empathetic, aware … and really fucking happy.

So yeah, I love you and her and him and them over there. If you ever need to hear it let me know because you’re beautiful and awesome in so many ways. Yes, you.

Closure

The greatest gift. That is all.

The Dalai Lama and Buddhism

Reading The Art of Happiness changed my life. I’ve never been a religious person or had a faith, but if I were to choose one, it would be Buddhism. I spend time every single day meditating and empathizing and it’s so damn hard sometimes but it’s grounded me; my wonder drug.

I’ve become further aware, understanding, conscious and tolerant of my human family in a world that used to disappoint, scare and anger me so much.

Falling in Love

I fell head over heels in love recently with this guy. Solid, pure, tangible, passionate, feather-light, fun, true and constant love. Love that hurts no one, instead, brings smiles to people’s faces.

And I am so, so grateful. Falling in love with your best friend for a second time – eight years after the first time – is the most amazing and exciting feeling in the world.

He’s no longer a provider, partner, father. He’s a person with dreams, ideas, talents, visions, passions, loves, insecurities and fears; it’s taken us both a long time and a lot of mistakes to realize that about each other.

I’m so madly and deeply in love with this man and every single day, without fail, I make sure he knows it. I make sure that not only does his mouth smile, but that his heart smiles and that’s what makes me smile.

We fuel each other’s fires and the end result is something I can’t even put into words.

Give. It’s all about the give.

Last night we slow danced after our company left. I can’t remember what songs we danced to, but what I do remember was tons of groove and sync, laughter, smiles and afterwards when I grabbed his face and said, “I’m so fucking in love with you, Colin” … haha, I didn’t even know how else to put it into words without swearing.

And then butterflies lifted me up to cloud 9 where I gave my daily gratitude and thanks for being so goddamn ALIVE.

I wouldn’t change a single thing about 2009 and I thank every single person who contributed to it.

Today I’m truly drowning in love and happiness; I never thought it possible. I hope it lasts forever.

Last night while laying in bed, Col and I decided to try something new (shut it, peanut gallery) …

We each took a turn telling the other something more than the typical “I love you” and “sweet dreams” and “OMG, I’m soooooo tired, I really hope the girls sleep in!”

I told him that he was my balance, strength, light, calm and tranquility when I feel like I have none, my motivating force; the only person who brings me total and utter peace when things get overwhelming.

He told me that my found spirituality, nature and love remind him of being a child and having dreams. He told me that in his busy days of commuting and working that I give him inspiration to be more, to dream more and to seek out his passions … and that it’s his favorite thing to come home to.

Quite possibly, it was the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard from this man I’ve been with for almost 8 years. I had no idea of the impact I make on his life on a daily basis.

You see, Colin often gets home between 7 and 8pm. On most days he basically walks in to me at the end of my rope as 7:45am to 8pm can be a long day with two four year olds who rarely nap anymore.

He comes in and sometimes I’m short and snappy and need help but I don’t often ask because here he is working 12 hour days to give us the life we have. But sometimes my head wants to explode and he knows that just by looking at me and takes over the bedtime routine without a word spoken.

I grab a glass of wine, crash somewhere and feel bad that I couldn’t manage the day in full from beginning to end and that I even allowed myself become overwhelmed to the point of snapping. And then he comes over and hugs me and tells me what a good job I’ve done, even if I haven’t really done much, makes me laugh about something – at myself mostly which feels really good – and I’m finally at my peaceful place with our girls sleeping and the day coming to an end.

See? Peace. When I’ve misplaced mine, Colin is there to help me find it.

Still, he doesn’t often get a taste of me like my readers of this blog do. At least I didn’t think so.

So last night I decided to change that. If I’m practicing love as a faith, it should definitely be practiced on my man first and I feel sometimes like I totally fail on that.

But when I heard those words come out of his mouth … that he actually notices … that I inspire him to dream like a child … it ignited a thousand fires within. It was like a nod from one of the most important people in my life signaling that I’m on the right path, doing the right thing. And holy moly was that ever music to my ears on top of being the most positive motivator to crash down the barrier I was stressing about yesterday.

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Sharing on that level was one of the truly most passionate things I’ve ever done while laying in bed (fully clothed that is). I urge you to do the same sometime, too. We all need more passion … it’s such a shame looking around and seeing some people passionate about very little or nothing and just bitching about the minor irritations in life. Bah. That’s no way to live at all.

If you’re lucky enough to love someone, cup their face, look them in the eye and tell them exactly why. Not just I love you, not just I need you, not just I want you. Because you don’t need anything and your wants don’t matter when you’re giving … you’ll get back what you give … it’s fact!

Go deep into your heart, shake off any shyness or awkwardness (I totally felt shy when talking to Col so deeply but in effect I had long forgotten butterflies so it was worth it) and tell them what it is about them that you adore and the impact they have on your life. We don’t do it enough and “I love you” sometimes just doesn’t cut it when it’s said as part of a daily routine.

Break free of routine, obligatory words and motions …

Make love a verb, a constant action. Wow … just like happiness, love isn’t a thing! A person can’t find love or happiness, they must constantly create it, weave it, be it, give it. Wonderous! Hey, it only took me 30 years to figure that one out for myself and now that I have it’s mighty

LOL. Oh, wow. Yes, I’m such a geek … but at least a happy one <3

And Happy Thanksgiving tomorrow to my friends in the States! Be sure to spend your day off giving constant gratitude for all the beauty and wonder surrounding you and for being alive and well to enjoy it xo

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