B.I.D List fun...

A few years back I started thinking about things I would like to experience and came up with a B.I.D list (Before I Die List). Now, I know a lot of people prefer to call theirs a 'bucket list' but I'm not afraid of the word die and I don't like to cover the prospect of death up with slang titles so that's why my list is titled as it is. Some things on my list are as huge as others are small and I really believe that's the point for me... life is made up of big dreams and realities just as it is of small ones that matter just as much.

So, I wanted to share my list of life wishes that I am certain will grow and change over time... I also wanted to share an 'accomplished entry' of a list item realized. So far, I've only been able to star off four of my B.I.D goals but we all have to have a starting point, right!?

I have a special journal where I keep my list and write about each goal as I find opportunity.

85 Visit a lighthouse...  *Accomplished Friday, June 8, 2012.


A Visit to Split Rock Lighthouse in Two Harbors, Minnesota

It was on a whim that we turned off the highway and into the Lighthouse grounds. I had wanted to go and visit the lighthouse every time I had ever driven by the signs on our visits to America but this was the time of actual happening. We had driven for hours through POURING rain until only moments before the lighthouse turnoff when the rain settled into a thick and heavy fogginess.

We took a chance on the weather and the rain did hold off while we explored though the fog would stay heavy through the entire view which was sooooo thick it was impossible to see the lake only a few feet from where we stood... even greater did the fog deepen my understanding for the need of lighthouses!

Deciding to take the quick tour to be sure we understood everything was a good choice since I sometimes don't understand things so well. I was fascinated with not only how quickly (only eleven months) but also how dangerous it was to build the lighthouse and buildings; everything was shipped by boat and brought to site by boat a steam-powered hoist and derrick from the lake and up the incredible rock cliffs. I didn't fully appreciate the danger until we walked to the foot of the cliff and looked up from the shoreline of the now cleared and staired pathway... MASSIVE! I had expected the lighthouse to be taller but realized why it didn't have to be with how high off the lake it already was!

We explored the dynamite shed first. It was small and set away from the other buildings and had been built to (hopefully) be able to withstand an explosion. It was, thankfully, never tested on it's actual limits. There was a door that I really loved in there!

Next we visited one of the Keepers houses, there were three identical houses - which I really liked because it meant ALL the Keepers lived and were considered equal even though there was always one who had the Head Keeper title. I also loved that at Split Rock a family lifestyle was encouraged and the Keepers' families lived there with them in the months the children were not in school. The house was small with creaky floors and an extremely narrow stairway. I was most fascinated by the built-in ladder to the attic as well as the carefully brush-painted walls! I absolutely LOVED how it felt to be in that house, it was cozy and welcoming even after so many years having passed with no one living within those beautiful walls.

From the house I didn't want to leave, we went and visited the whistle room from which a whistle blasted every eighteen seconds for the boats and could be heard from five miles out from the shore. It still works and I would have appreciated a little warning before it sounded while I was inside... I survived the shock but I bet had my reaction been filmed it would have been a YouTube HIT!

I had wanted to save the lighthouse itself for last and was happy I had. The glossy-white bricked walls were stunning and the small area somehow felt incredibly open and inviting as we climbed the spiral, very narrow staircase up to the lens which was nothing AT ALL like I had always imagined; lens itself was made up of LOUVERS... Who knew???

Fascinating stuff and I am so glad we finally stopped in!

Because I collect key chains, I of course had to have one as a keepsake from my beautiful lighthouse adventure...

Split Rock Lighthouse is really quite a sight, so full of history in life and I am grateful I had the chance to get to know it just a little bit. If you've never been, it really is a stunning place and though it was weather that just didn't allow for us to take pictures on our visit because the fog was so brutal we could hardly even see the water while standing on the shoreline it was still purely magical for me. And I did find a postcard photo showing the lighthouse on a clear day...

Split Rock Lighthouse photo from the Minnesota Historical Society.

Do you have a B.I.D list of your own? What did you name your list and what super cool adventures do you have listed to accomplish?

Soul space...

We all have spaces we love. Special spots that offer us ease from everything else that might be going on around us. Places of gentle that offer nourishment to our souls just from cherishing time spent within.

For me... that space is the loft.

Now, for almost two years the loft was unfortunately off-limits to me due to dealing with Peripheral Neuropathy having stolen my stair-climbing abilites. It was tough to be able to see the loft overlooking the living room as I sat below but I knew it was waiting to help heal my soul once my legs had finally healed. And I was right. Now that I have almost fully regained my leg strength, control and confidence to climb stairs, the loft has welcomed me back to start working on healing the rest of me.

So, in fashion of my love of sharing, I wanted to share with you, my most favourite space..... And just so you won't feel badly thinking the loft has been neglected this past while, I'll start off with a picture of Play enjoying his favourite nap spot in the whole entire house! He naps up there daily and he has been using the loft and keeping it lived in for both of us; he loves the loft as much as I do, I think!

I don't quite get how this can even be comfy to nap on a hard pool table but Play absolutely LOVES his pool table snoozes. Because I am terrified he will get tangled on his down-jump, he is not allowed to bring his blankies up to nap with but we compromise by turning on his 'warming light' to keep him toasty while up there which works well.

First thing I do when I make my way up to the loft is pop an old and extremely
well-loved record onto the similarly old record player...
Today was a Larry Gatlin kind of day 'cause I do love me my Larry Gatlin!!!

It may not be the greatest record player and I do realize there are new models
available these days with people finally having admitted that the richness of sound
coming out over vinyl really is unbeatable BUT it still works and sounds incredible!

You might not be able to tell that it's an old stereo by sound
but the fact that the remote control is on a cord kind of
gives its age away... still WELL loved nonetheless!!

Once I have my music on to soothe me I head on in toward the sitting area. Sometimes I turn on the fireplace and curl up in the rocker beside it and just listen to my music for a few minutes to clear my mind.

This fireplace is the only heat source for the loft but since the heat rises up from our
in-floor heating pipes below, it is always cozily warm up here.

The only times Play is not on the pool table napping is when I am up in the
loft with him... he knows that the table is not an appropriate nap-spot
so he only hops up when he thinks he won't be caught... a fun game for him.



I always check to see that Day is comfortable before I get comfortable for a little while. He knows that all he has to do is call me when he needs me and I will be down to help him with whatever he needs whether it be a cuddle, a bathroom break, some water, picking up a toy he dropped, or even if he needs a blankie re-tucking in...
anything at all that he needs, he knows I'll be there.



I keep hoping that Day will decide one of these days to trek up the stairs along with Play and I so he too can discover the comfy joys it offers but he just isn't a fan of stairs, and that's okay. Day has learned and is capable of taking on stairs and he does well on them when he believes enough in himself but he is not comfortable enough to choose to make his way up...



And then, when my mind is cleared, and the music has taken me back into a time when everything was easy...
I sit down and I write.

Do you have a space of comfort, one that nourishes your own soul. Where is it that you love to let yourself just be? Does it help you in solace, in creativity, in living even when outside of that safe space? Share with us your perfect moments in your perfect space.

It's a learning curve...

Today was warm and dry outside; a perfect day to start working on leash-learning with my boys while on my fantastical new SideStix! Anyone who knows me or reads this blog will know that my main goal in healing and learning to walk again has been to be able to walk both of my boys on my own. Now, judging from the few steps we managed together today, that goal is still set for pretty far in the future... but we have begun working our way confidently toward it!

I've had my Stix for a couple of weeks now and have been working really hard to become one with them and it's happening very quickly which just fills my heart to overflowing beaming! I am so much more stable on solid pavement, building floors, in elevators, getting in and out of vehicles, on the uneven backyard grassed ground and even on the rocky hills at camp. These new walking sticks are giving me back the person I thought I'd lost. So this morning, as we started out to the workshop I thought maybe, just maybe, the boys and I should start learning how to work together as an on-leash/on-Stix unit.....

The grass was a wee bit slick so I took a couple of practice 'runs' on my own first...

Day wasn't always into 'stixin with the group'...



...so I had to do a little begging for cooperation here and there.

.....and then a little more yet....... Day just wasn't so happy to be
working on his leash for the ten minutes we took out of
off-the-leash backyard fun run time.

But some steps, we did pretty well together!

Until entangled again we became.



Play couldn't help but to giggle at mamas keeping-us-all-in-order FUMBLES...



...but then he did feel a tiny guilt pang and told me he was sorry for making fun of me.

I'd say our first attempt at leashes with SideStix was a pretty beautiful success. We will keep working our skills as a team and will learn together. I can do anything for my boys and keeping them healthy and happy is everything to me... as is their incredible patience with a very slow moving mama!



We'll be pro's in no time my PlayDay Duo... no time, at all!

Journal me old-school...

I love how it feels to write and I am thankful that penmanship was still an actual taught subject in school while I was  growing up. I do a lot of typing in keeping up with my blogs and emails but I never want to lose what it means to physically write what I internally feel. It's important to me, even in this electronic world in which we now live, to keep on putting real pen to real paper so although I keep up with the times, I also continue to kick it old-schoooool... And since I just began a brand new journal, I thought I would share my journaling style with hopes that others of you who might read this will also be willing to share of yourself because I want to know more about you are and about the things you love and believe in life!

Journals hold feelings and every journal deserves to be cherished...
even ones in my least favourite colours!

I first happened across this poem when I was in eighth grade and it instantly became
so important to my being that I keep it with me still, on the first last page of every journal
I keep. I'm not sure why the last book page of every journal I write becomes my first but it
does... maybe I just want never to have to meet the end so I begin there instead..,

When I write in my journals, I don't like to waste space as much as I don't adhere to the regular 'rules of the lines'.
I do like to have each entry in its own special ink colour but my hands decide the patterns they feel the need
to write in and I allow my mind to write whatever needs to come out whether insightful or silly. I worry
not one little bit about grammar or mistakes or tidiness. I worry more about staying real.

Do you journal? Do you share what you journal or do you keep it for yourself? What do you do once you've filled your journals? Do you keep them? Do you toss them? Would you share a page or two with us? It isn't always easy to share our feelings but I'm finding, as I grow older, that it's a pretty incredible thing to do.

Waiting to tell...

I won't even pretend that I begin to even remotely or slightly understand politics, heck I don't even have the interst to learn about politics; my brain just doesn't work that way. I don't understand platforms or policies or infrastructure or even the basics of voting but I do think I have a pretty good handle on caring about people, on wanting the very best for everybody and doing what I can to help this world be a kinder place to share... even if only through empathy.

I live in Canada and even living in Canada, the American Presidential Race has dominated my Facebook news feed over the past many months. Every day I find my eyes and mind inundated with memes and articles focused on the upcoming US Election and I hide most of them but for a few I deem to be insightfully read-worthy. I hide the ridiculous and insulting memes as well as anything introduced by a 'bashing introduction' because I just don't feel the kindness in making fun of physical appearances or mannerisms of ANYbody. But in this past week, there has been another form of hurtful making the rounds and the focus is suddenly OFF of the Presidential contenders and mostly ON every person who has ever been attacked. My news feed this morning was filled with multiple posts talking about the ridiculousness of people who wait until there is a spotlight to tell of what they've been through but I did find two posts speaking for the newest people being bashed for coming forward with sharing their previous and obviously lasting traumas.

I am disappointed in many views I have witnessed in the past two days. I shouldn't be, none of those views are mine. But I am... disappointed.

Telling or not telling is something most of us will have to wrestle with at one point or another in our lives and the fact that victims are being shamed for finally finding courage to share their most painful moments is simply disgraceful to me. So many victims of predatory attacks have waited to tell and sometimes will never tell because of how victims are so often publicly shamed as well as from their own humiliation, fear and personal shame over having lived it.

The humiliation, fear and personal shame is real. I know it because I experienced it.

I am and always have been someone who is extremely cautious. I watch, I listen, I don't take chances. I listen and I heed every gut feeling my body gives me. Even still, I did find myself pinned and petrified a few years back. I didn't tell. I was terrified, I was hurt and I was embarrassed. I think I was mostly embarrassed because I am always so careful... yet even in my careful, I allowed myself to be intimidated.

I had been at roller derby practice on a Wednesday night and as always once practice had finished and I had taken off and packed my gear, I waited for someone to walk out in the dark, chilly night to my car with. I had tried for months to set up a sort of 'buddy car walk' system so that no one arrived at or left our not-so-safe practice space area alone but everyone told me I was wasting my time... "Who's gonna want gross, sweaty derby girls?" ... "We're derby girls, we'll just hip-check and break away!" ... "If I had to have a buddy everywhere I go, I'd never get anything done!" ... "Pfffffft, I can handle myself!" ...I heard just about every excuse and even from my own sister so I finally gave up trying to help make certain we all arrived and left safely but I still made certain that I never left alone. I asked one of my teammates if she had parked in the same direction I had and luckily she had so once she was ready we started out together. We were both parked fairly close but my friend had snagged the close spot just across the intersection which I was congratulating her on (since it's a rare spot to get) while we waited for the light to change. Just before the light changed for us to cross we heard a loud party-type conversation come out of the previously quiet night air and looked up the street ahead to see a group of around eight to twelve (or more) men filing out of a building up and across the street just a few feet past where my car was parked. The hollers were amiable and mixed with laughter as the men parted still calling out to one another until just as quickly the talk turned to mumbles and then to silence. We kept walking and neither of us thought anything about it as we watched the group split; most of the men headed away from us, some went toward the opposite parking lot, a couple had turned to head down the opposite sidewalk and there was one man who had crossed the street and was heading directly toward us. He was on his way just as we were and neither my friend or I were concerned.

We reached my teammates car and I continued to walk but turned back to ask if she would be at practice the following night then waved as she climbed into her car and continued toward my own waiting vehicle. Flanking the outer sidewalk edge was a car parked in front of my friends car and a pick-up truck directly in front of that and the inner sidewalk was towered over by a large building that at one point had been a movie theatre. The sidewalk didn't offer a whole lot of space to walk and I was dragging along behind me my wheeled Zuca gear bag so I naturally moved over as close to the wall as I could when I saw the man coming toward me down the centre of the sidewalk.

Just one step passed between us before he made eye-contact with me and deliberately stepped over and intentionally into my path.

My heart picked up a little then and my gut was telling me to get away from that wall, so I did but I had just heard my friends car door close and I knew she was still there so I didn't let myself panic. Instead, I moved to the outer edge of the sidewalk but had just slightly passed the path between the car and truck so I had to keep going the length of the truck.

Another step passed and I could now clearly see his face and feel how his eyes were focused on me.

And then he stepped deliberately and straight into my path again.

That was the moment I did start to panic.

He was only a few steps away from me when I reached the front bumper of the pick-up truck.

I started turning the instant I reached the front of that truck. I stepped down off the sidewalk and didn't take the time to check my gear bag behind me as I normally would and as I felt it drop behind me I started angling my body to make the diagonal bolt for my car while making a quick check for oncoming traffic before crossing.

I shouldn't have checked for traffic.

I should just have started running.

In that split-second I found myself pinned so hard against the front of that pick-up grill that my back hurt and I couldn't move and I couldn't breathe.

Now, I'm a pretty big girl at five-foot-ten and I consider myself strong because I have always been active in sports and taking care of my body, keeping my muscles strong. But pinned against that truck like I was I felt smaller than I've ever felt in my life. The fact that my face was in the middle of his chest and I could see nothing but his chest told me that this man was huge. I'm tall, he was massive.

I felt his arms crushing my own against my sides. I felt him pressing into me until I was gasping for breath and I felt a sharp pain in my back before I felt warmth trickling down my back. I couldn't move and I couldn't speak.

And then I heard my friends car start and her headlights lit the road. And I started figuring out what I might need to do. I suddenly found myself worrying that this truck I was trapped against might just belong to this man and I know it sounds ridiculous for such a minor happening but I heard the words from years ago on an Oprah show blast through my mind... "Never allow them to take you somewhere else!" Those words found their way back to me right when I needed them and once I heard them inside my head again I was ready for whatever I might need to do next. I was fortunate that I didn't have to fight for myself from being taken somewhere else.

The man tightened his grip on me, rubbed himself even harder against me. And he wrapped his arms fully around me while leaning down before speaking into my ear with a low chuckle that assured me he had enjoyed every brief second he had controlled me, "Remember to call your friend when you get home... you really need to thank her," he quietly instructed me with a voice so deep I almost felt it burrowing into my skin.

He pulled himself away then and headed off across the road.

I didn't look after him. I didn't check for traffic. I beelined for my vehicle, threw my gear bag in, started the engine and halfway home the terrified tears began.

I didn't tell.

I was so embarrassed that I had let that happen to me.

I didn't call my friend when I got home but I did have a message waiting from her making sure I had made it home and that I was okay. In my reply I begged her not to tell anyone what had happened, I promised her the world as long as she just... wouldn't... tell.

Enz was watching television when I got home so I just called out that I was home and headed straight for the shower. My scrimmage shirt and jacket were both soaked with blood but I prayed my back would stop bleeding and just clear up in the shower. It didn't. I could see the gash in the mirror but I couldn't reach it so I had to ask Enz to come and help me with a bandage.

"How the hell did you get cut there?" he asked as he started opening the bandage package.

"Oh, you know... anything can happen at derby..."

"This is deep! You might need stitches."

"It's fine, just... tape it tight, it'll heal."

I worried over going to practice the following night but I didn't want to be that girl, the one who lets a ridiculous fear hold her back from living and derby, at that time, was a pretty huge chunk of my life. I didn't sleep a whole lot that night and the next day I did get my gear packed and ready for another practice but leaving the house wasn't quite as easy as I had expected it to be. I procrastinated like I never, ever, do. My ponytail wasn't in right. I needed an extra water bottle. The socks I had on were going to bunch up in my skates so I needed to change them. I had packed the wrong scrimmage shirts. My skate wheels needed to be rotated. My toe stop was loose. The list went on and on and on until Enz finally said... "Are you planning on actually going to to practice today??"

So finally, off I headed. But by the time I finally made it across town and parked my car just a few spaces farther up from the spot I'd had the night before... it was already twenty minutes past start of practice and there was no one nearby to catch up and walk with. 'Don't be ridiculous' I whispered aloud to myself, 'get out of the car and get your butt in to practice'.

But I couldn't make myself do it.

Instead, I started my vehicle back up, pulled back out onto the road and I drove myself back to the safety of home.

"Practice cancelled?" Enz asked when I made my way back inside the house.

I told him what had happened then and just like with my friend the night before, I made him promise never to tell a soul. The only other person I told all of what happened to was my sister who was also involved with roller derby practices as our Head Ref and the only reason I told her was to beg her to let me pick her up so we could drive to practices together and so neither of us would ever have to walk from our cars alone. On the days my sister couldn't go to practice, Enz dropped me off at the practice space doors and picked me up straight afterward so I felt safe to go. Even though it was a one time happening, I still feel every instant of those few seconds filled with absolute terror in every tiny detail of what happened to me that night and I make no apologies for being seen as ridiculously cautious in keeping safe.

A few of my friends and teammates did ask me why Enz had started dropping me off and arriving to walk out with me if he couldn't get a spot directly out front and I was honest in telling them that something had happened and I wasn't willing to walk out of practice without a true buddy system set up so I had just made my own dependable buddy system.

My point... I didn't tell either.

But my not telling, doesn't make it untrue and it will never mean that it didn't happen. It did happen. I was lucky to get to go home with just a cut back and soul.

I feel incredibly guilty that I didn't go to the get the stitches I probably needed in my cut back because had I gone to the hospital I would have had to explain what had happened and a report would have been filed and the police probably notified. As it were, and still is, I may have let someone else get hurt by that man I let walk away and leave me in a trembling, fear-filled mess. But these women who have now come forward in the news about having been assaulted by people  ('people' - because victim shaming is happening on BOTH sides of the competition) who could very well soon be in even greater power are being accused and shamed themselves for finally finding strength to speak up and just maybe save more people now.

Looking back, even though I didn't know his name and never have seen him again, I wish I had told. Even though he didn't actually and fully attack me, I wish I had told. But I did just tell... now, five years later. So many people seem to be shaming the people who have waited to tell but I understand and I know I'm not alone. SO many people have been hurt and haven't told. For me, I didn't tell because admitting to it felt weak, dirty, shameful... Think about it for a moment. In my case, I was pinned and couldn't move, I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe so I couldn't speak and a strong, forceful man I didn't know was pressing and rubbing himself against me. I felt gross and I felt tiny under his intimidation and this was a man not, as far as I know anyhow, in public power but he didn't have to be because his power was being gained from intimidating me. I didn't tell on a man who had no public power so how can I condemn those who didn't tell on anyone with incredible public power? I will tell you that if ever again I see the man who changed me that long ago night, I will tell and I will do all I can to make sure that what he is capable of, is known.

Sometimes doing the right thing after having been so horribly wronged takes a little time.

How about let's just not shame one another, at all? We all have been through moments we regret but let's not make it harder on ourselves and others when finally we do find the courage to do right, even in the face of fear.

Back to real life.....

I had a pretty BIG afternoon yesterday, so big that it wore me out just a little too much to be able to write about it until today when I am once again well-rested and ready to remember!

I first need to explain that I worry and panic about visits to the Dentist from the moment I make my next nine-month cleaning/check-up appointment until the day OF that next appointment. I worry SO much about having to have an actual dental procedure done that I am obsessive about flossing and brushing and I work really hard to keep my teeth as perfect as I can by flossing usually five or six times a day and brushing at least four times a day... So far my clean teeth madness has been serving me well since my plan is for cleaning every six months but my dentist says because I take such good care I only need to come in every nine or twelve months just for the check-up. A few years ago, however, I did have to have a root canal when I somehow cracked tooth number sixteen... talk about a cruel twist since sixteen has always been my most favourite and fortunate number! Talk about TERRIFIED when I heard the words 'root canal' since all I had ever heard were horror stories but the root canal part was actually pure relief after only the first of three appointments and it wasn't anything to have fretted over as I had. I was blessed to have been referred to the incredibly relaxed yet chipper and kind Endodontist who calmly explained every detail of every move he made as he carefully dealt with banishing my all-encompassing cracked tooth pain. I have never been so grateful to be in a dental chair as I was then! So technically, I know I can deal with dental work if need be but I still can't help my panicking at simply the thought.

Yesterdays appointment was a different kind of nervous, though; it was my first step back into the real world on my very own. Enz had promised weeks ago to help me on my first non-therapy appointment but then told me over the long weekend that he wouldn't be able to after all because he had someone still in town from his head office at my afternoon appointment start-time. Monday was Thanksgiving so with everything closed I had no time to cancel my Tuesday appointment. I agonized over how I was going to deal, right from when Enz told me on Saturday until my actual appointment on Tuesday. My pa-in-law was happy to come and stay with my boys while I had to be out so I was thankful for knowing my boys were set and would be well cared for while I was gone but I was still pretty angry in my sudden extra panic when even just my regular dental visit panic is more than enough!

I didn't have a choice. I may not have wanted to keep my appointment in my upset but I am not one who would ever bail on an appointment... so off I headed. I was tummy-fluttered as I pulled on my favourite comfort-easy-on ankle boots and made the few steps over to my vehicle to lift in my walking sticks. Already, I felt a little better just at the tiny slice of Independence lifting my own sticks offered me. Then I climbed up into the seat and slid the key in to start the ignition before I remembered that I had forgotten my water. I hate not having water with me because I get cranky when I'm thirsty... so I climbed back out and used one of the other cars in the garage to steady myself as I walked back inside to get my favourite pink cooler water bottle. I said goodbye to my boys again and went back out to my waiting ride only to find I had inadvertently locked the keys in the ignition. Yay, another sudden extra moment of panic! Fortunately, I knew my pa-in-law would let me take his car if need be but I rushed back inside the laundry room door and hurriedly ripped out the extra-key bag in hopes that my extra key was in there - I wasn't certain it would be because I love my Hummer so much that I was sure I had probably stashed the key somewhere else as I do with my beloved El Camino since I feel like they're both to good to have to share space with less-than extra keys... as luck would have it, my spare key was, in fact, in the bag! so out I went... again... to unlock my car and finally head out to my dental cleaning appointment. The good thing about all of this awkward, hurried and worrisome start is that my fear of getting safely inside the dental office was overshadowed by my having overcome the hassles I created for myself just in leaving the garage!! By the time I was on the actual highway, headed into town, I was relaxed, flutterless and just letting my beloved Johnny Lee loudly and Cherokee Fiddlingly comfort me along.

By the time I had arrived at my dreaded destination and parked my vehicle, I was doubting myself again and just as I reached into the armrest cubby for my emergency cell phone to dial Enz, the phone started to ring with his call to check on me...

"I was just about to dial your number," I said when I had figured out how to answer after about the fifth ring, "I just got here right now."

"I can sneak away for a few minutes if you need help getting inside, I'm only a one minute drive away."

"I think I'll be okay..." I was really hoping he would just say he was already heading outside.

"I can come right now."

"I should be fine. I'm not too far from the door and I'm really early so I'll just take my time....."

"Okay, but call me when you get inside."

"No, I can't, I can't carry my phone with my sticks and I don't have big enough pockets in my plaid to hold it so I'm leaving it in my car. I'll be okay, I'll just call you when I'm finished."

"Okay, just be careful and if the elevator is not working go back to the car and call me to come. DON'T go on the stairs by yourself."

No, I won't try the stairs with the sticks by myself, I will take the elevator for SURE!"

"Call me when you're finished."

"'Yup..."

*click*

So, I sucked in a long, deep breath just like I did all those nerve wracking times in therapy, forced myself out of the safe comfort of my ride, got myself properly set with my walking sticks and started toward the office galleria entrance of our local shopping mall. How grateful am I that there is a hallway entrance straight to the elevator/stair area for the upstairs offices which meant that I didn't have to step foot in the actual shopping areas and deal with my social nerves of maybe running into someone I know! I slowly and only a little shakily made my way in, down the hallway and up in the elevator which lands pretty much directly outside the dental office door. WHEW... one-third of the battle already won!!!

I had made it inside safely and surprisingly surely. My cleaning went as well as usual and was finished from check-start to polish in only about fifteen minutes which left me another forty-five to wait for the dentist since the cleaning blocks are always booked for hour long slots... yay for my obsessive tooth work leading to easy cleanings! My check-up with the Dentist was quick and painless as well, except for the fact that I do need to return next week for new impressions for a new mouth-nightguard since I have apparently been grinding my teeth quite badly while sleeping; he said it's not surprising with the stress of all that has been happening with my legs over the past almost two years. In my resolve to keep smiling and remain positive during my waking hours, my jaw has been clenching and grinding my sleepy subconscious worries and doing damage to my jaw joints causing displacement. No wonder I've been having some pain and headaches but I wasn't about to complain. Anyhow, both the impression and nightguard fitting appointments are really quick and easy so I don't have to let myself stew over going back for them which is a relief! I did, however, still have worries of getting back out to my car.

I had heard rumours of truth, that we now have in our local mall, a Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory and darned if I didn't peek over the open-to-below railing while making my way out of the office that my favourite store was directly below and just across the shop lined hallway!!! My mind was suddenly and completely OFF my worries of getting back to my car! All the way down the single floor elevator ride I turned over in my mind whether or not I should take myself into the store of deliciousness for an after-dentist dark chocolate peanut butter cup to celebrate (which I was going to save to share with Enz because sharing always makes everything taste even better) but by the time I had reached the hallway to outside I had decided that I just didn't feel right about having two bags hooked over my walking sticks handles... one with a toothbrush and floss and another with a Heavenly chocolate treat. When I later mentioned it to Enz and then my mama, both had said to me, "Well, you could've just tucked one bag inside the other and no one would have known!" But I would've known and I would've felt like an absolute tooth fraud so maybe on my next appointment I will get a chocolate treat to share since I won't have a dentist bag with me again until my next cleaning!

Anyhow, I had made it through getting into the office, made it through my appointment and when I was finally back inside my comfy ride once again, I reached for my phone to call Enz and let him know I had survived. He said he could get away for a few minutes if I wanted to meet for a coffee which I sure did! I said I would pick him up from his office so we weren't taking up so much parking space with two vehicles in case the coffee shop was busy because that just isn't fair to other people trying to find parking space. For the first time in a LONG time, I picked someone up to go for a coffee and I actually got out of the car and went inside to sit and enjoy a coffee... steeped tea actually because I changed my mind once there. It was so nice to be out in a public setting and not feel a spectacle stuck behind a bulky walker! Sure, I had my sticks but they are different than the walker and I feel freer and less stick-outy and more secure and sure of myself with them after even only a week and a half of practicing LOTS. Enz says they don't stick out in looks with being flat black and are hardly noticeable... I know he's being generous just to urge me out of the house but believing it is helping me get over the embarrassment, and so is the fact that the sticks and all my hard work in learning to walk and control my legs again has given me back, well... me!