No Idea

This week didn’t go the way I expected. Not in any dramatic way—just small things. A thread stalled, a tool didn’t behave the way it used to, and I found myself sitting with a question I couldn’t quite answer about friendship. Nothing big, just enough friction to notice.   And that’s where this week seemed to settle. Not in fixing anything, but in paying attention to how I respond when things don’t go the way I expect. It turned out to be less about solving problems and more about noticing my habits around them. I noticed how quickly I want things to work properly. The system should behave, the routine should hold, and the plan should still fit. When that didn’t happen, my first instinct was the same as always: figure it out, adjust it, fix it. But this week offered something quieter. Sometimes the answer was to refresh, restart, or simply let it go. Not everything needs a workaround, and not everything needs my full attention. At one point, I caught myself thinking I had lost mome...

I’ve been thinking about this whole “small adventures” idea, and I don’t think it looks the way people expect it to. It’s not big outings or full days planned out. Most of the time, it’s me standing in my kitchen trying to decide if I’m actually going to leave the house or not. This week, I did. The plan was to go to the Wednesday Farmers Market. Easy enough. Fifteen-minute walk, nothing complicated. I talked myself into it, got out the door, walked all the way down there… and it turns out there is no Wednesday market anymore. I just stood there for a minute thinking, well… now what.   That would have been a perfectly good excuse to turn around and go home, and I was tempted. But I’d already done the hard part—the getting out the door part—so I kept going. I crossed the bridge into East City, stopped at Tim’s for a few minutes to rest, and then carried on to the spa where GD#1 works to check out those shower steamers she mentioned. From there I went into Foodland to pick up the...

This is the last post for March, and spring has started to show up in small ways. I saw a robin at the beginning of the month. This week, the geese came back. Now I’m waiting for the buds and the dandelions.   It doesn’t happen all at once. And I think that’s what this month has been like for me too. When I started this series, I didn’t expect it to be this hard—or this revealing. I thought I would see progress clearly, something I could point to and name. But what I’m noticing instead is quieter than that. The days don’t feel quite as heavy. There are moments where my energy lifts just enough for me to notice it. Not a big change. Just something beginning. This month didn’t go the way I planned. I thought I could handle more—two Aquafit classes, a couple of studio classes—but it didn’t take long to realize I wasn’t there yet. One week of that was enough to put me out of commission for the next. So I adjusted. By the end of February and into March, I was down to one class a week. N...

🌱 Steady Growth I didn’t think this week was steady. After effort, I expected steadiness to feel clearer. More structured. More predictable—something I could recognize right away. I had a plan for this month: one class per week, a 5-minute minimum movement rule, protein after classes, prep day consistency, and a weekly reflection entry. Small inputs, visible progress. And in many ways, those pieces were there. I showed up. Not perfectly, not in a straight line, but often enough to count. The 5-minute rule held, even on the harder days. I made it to class. I moved regularly. I followed through in small ways that don’t look like much on their own, but add up when repeated. What steady looked like, it turns out, was not dramatic. It looked like writing things down so my thoughts didn’t loop endlessly in my head, and paying attention to what I was thinking so I could understand it, and then returning to the plan after a rough patch instead of letting everything fall apart. It looked like ...

March has a theme for me: Recovery is not a reward. It is part of the program.   That idea sounds simple when written on a page, but living it is something else entirely. For a long time I treated recovery like a break you earned after doing the real work. Push hard, finish the task, then rest afterward if you had to. That approach worked well enough before fibromyalgia entered the picture. With fibromyalgia, it doesn’t. What I’m learning slowly is that recovery isn’t something that happens after the work. Recovery is part of the work. Protecting it is what makes everything else possible. Since January I’ve been experimenting with what recovery actually looks like in my real life. Not the textbook version, but the daily version. The one that shows up when I’m deciding whether to go to class, whether to walk to the YMCA, or whether today needs to be a heating-pad and stretching kind of day. Some patterns are beginning to appear. Learning to Read Pain Instead of Fighting It For most...

  I have begun to notice that if I create a plan sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. When it works it includes space to breathe and rest. When it doesn’t, it’s because there is absolutely no structure — or very little. For a long time, I thought the problem was over-planning . I assumed that needing structure meant I was trying to control too much. But what I’m starting to see is the opposite. The plans that fail aren’t the structured ones. They’re the vague ones. The hopeful ones. The ones built on the assumption that I’ll “just manage.” When I leave my days too open, I drift. I underestimate fatigue. I say yes without checking tomorrow’s cost. I end up reacting instead of choosing. But when I build in shape — not rigidity, just shape — my days feel steadier.   Shape looks like this: A recovery hour placed on purpose. A walk measured in time instead of distance. Meal components stored in a way that protects future energy. Evenings that are intentionally simple. ...

1. The Currency I Didn’t Know I Was Spending I used to think time was my most limited resource. Lately I’ve realized it’s energy. The shift didn’t happen in a doctor’s office or during some dramatic health scare. It happened in the middle of making lunch wraps. I had everything laid out on the counter — tuna mixed with Greek yogurt, sliced turkey, steak, spinach, tortillas. I was assembling them automatically, thinking I was being efficient, when I stopped mid-roll and wondered: Will this still be good in three days? Should I freeze it? Should I store everything separately? It wasn’t really about food safety. It was about tomorrow. If I assemble everything now and it goes soggy, I’ll have wasted both food and effort. If I freeze something that doesn’t thaw well, I’ll feel frustrated and start over. If I store the components separately, I give myself options. I reduce friction for a future day when my energy may be lower than it is right now. Standing there with a tortilla in m...

  At 4:50 a.m. on Sunday, I learned something new about my blood pressure This week was not about transformation. It was about steadiness. Which, when you’re managing chronic illness, fluctuating blood pressure, blood sugar, and a nervous system that apparently believes in dramatic entrances, is no small thing. Clearing Space (and Not Just on My Screen) It started innocently enough: deleting old chats and managing digital memory. But while I was clearing out old threads, I found myself wondering how much emotional clutter I carry around the same way. Archived. Saved. Revisited. Not everything needs to be stored for future reflection. Some thoughts can be acknowledged and gently released. Some seasons don’t need replaying. There’s a quiet relief in deleting something and realizing the world does not collapse. Maybe the same is true internally. Energy Is the Real Currency I used to think I needed better time management. Now I know I need better energy management. I can have an entire...

 Looking toward 2026, I know one thing for sure. I do not want another year to drift by without intention. I am tired of feeling lost and disconnected from my own life. This is not about dramatic reinvention or chasing some ideal version of myself. It is about choosing steadier ground and building something livable, one small decision at a time. Age has been echoing loudly in my head lately. Sixty five feels heavy, not because it is old, but because it comes with awareness. There is time left, real time, and what I do with it matters. That realization is uncomfortable, but it is also clarifying. I do not want to spend the coming years frozen in place by fear, exhaustion, or habit. If I am going to move forward, I need to do it deliberately. Health is an unavoidable part of that picture. Not in a perfectionist or punishing way, but in a practical one. I want to walk regularly, in all kinds of weather. I want to use my weights to build strength and practice yoga or gentle stretching ...

I was going through my blog recently and realized something important: December 2024 came and went without any kind of year in review. At the time, I did not think much of it, but looking back now I can see how much that missing pause mattered. I do not function well without some kind of plan or reflection, and this past year really shows that. Skipping that moment of looking back may be one reason I have felt so lost moving through 2025. When I reread my posts from early 2025, I noticed something else too. Things are better in some ways, yet emotionally I am still close to where I was in January. Winter has always pulled me inward, and December and January seem to amplify everything. I know this is common and that many people struggle more in the colder, darker months, but it always feels heavier when it is happening to you personally. Awareness does not stop the feeling, but it does help me name it. This past year carried a lot of emotional weight, especially around family milestones...

 The last one read like the manifesto of a suicide I know but I am not one of those. I've just been going through a rough patch. Something  else is on my mind today and has been for awhile. Winter gives you nothing but time to think and December especially seems like a month for introspection what with the season of good will towards men turning into the lead up for a brand new year. For years I started this process right after my birthday in October but with all the shit I'm dealing with to get myself set up for the next 20-40 years,(turning 65 is no fun), I have just barely started the process. A long time ago a doctor told me that obesity is a long slow death so that it what I chose but these days I am actually unhappy with my weight because it has begun to interfere with the thing I like best like travelling to new places and exploring them. I have become more and more unhappy with myself over the last couple of months.  It has got to the point that I order in my groc...

 Some days I get in my own head so deeply that I lose track of where the pain ends and where my words begin. When that happens, people sometimes get hurt — even the ones I care about. I don’t mean to. I don’t even fully understand why. If someone asks how I feel, I tell them… but the truth is, sometimes I don’t think they’re prepared to hear it. And if I’m being honest, sometimes neither am I. Talking has never been easy for me, especially when emotions run high. The words vanish when I try to speak them, but when I write, they come out — raw, messy, and real. Writing is how I manage the pain. It’s also how I avoid interacting with people when I’m struggling, because I’m not great at it. The words feel safer on paper than in conversation. Today they come slowly. I’m sitting with a lot of sadness and regret for the things I said yesterday. I was angry — more than I realized — and I let it spill onto someone who didn’t deserve it quite that way. He asked how I was feeling (or did h...

I am lost in my head today and my heart hurts. I've had to close my window to the out-siders and I have told them why. If I don't I risk losing my apartment and I will not allow myself to become homeless but then I'm accused of lying. I care I care too much but I can't afford to lose my apartment I just can't going out in the cold it makes my knee go haywire and I can barely walk. Yeah E I know I should have told you that but I still want to do the week-end we planned I will just have to wear my brace The tears won't stop but at least they are silent, when I first was ordered to stop I burst into loud noisy tears as soon as I closed my window. The outsiders are so used to being homeless that someone withdrawing support to keep the roof over their head seems to them like I was faking the whole time my window was available to them because now it isn't. I understand them being upset at me I'm upset too. I will not give up my home for them I can't.  With...

Turning 64 hits differently. It isn’t old and it isn’t young — it’s more like standing in a doorway with one hand on the past and one hand feeling around for the light switch of whatever comes next. And honestly the year between 64 and 65 comes with way more practical nonsense than anyone tells you about. It’s not just emotions. It’s paperwork and timelines and figuring out how to land on your feet when the government decides you’re now “officially” a senior. One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned this year is this: as soon as you turn 64, start your applications . If you are on Ontario Works or ODSP like I was, they cut off your benefits the moment you hit 65. You’ll get one final month after your birthday and then that’s it — no money coming in unless all your applications are already in process. And trust me, government drones move slower than winter molasses, so the sooner the better. That means filling out forms for Old Age Security (OAS) , Canada Pension Plan (CPP) and the Gua...

 The last couple of weeks have been a blur of creativity and caffeine as I bounce between Woulf’s Quest and the poetry anthology that keeps stealing my attention. On the Quest side we’ve been deep in world-building again tightening the canon polishing appendices and slowly shaping Act III so it breathes the way Air should. I swear every time I think we’re done another little detail taps my shoulder and says fix me next. And then there’s the poetry book which has taken on a life of its own. Some days it feels like excavation brushing dust off old feelings until a clear line appears. Other days it’s more like wrestling fog but in a good way. A handful of poems finally clicked into place including Heavy in the Soul and I’m starting to see how the whole collection might hold together. Heavy in the Soul I keep hearing that time waits for no one and I guess that includes me because nothing slows down not even when I’m falling behind If I want my life to mean something I have to p...

 I am so tired of people. I have had more run in's with people against what I do. It is beginning to wear on me.  Its almost virulent the way it has been increasing, that attitude that I am a bad person because I try to help the homeless & drug addicts. That I am what is that word ah yes enabling them as if If I stopped giving out water and food the issue would disappear. I suppose it would for a few days maybe a week before they would be back causing damage like they did all last winter.  Without reason to protect this building the helpful ones will disappear which would leave room for other undesirables, the ones that hate everyone and everything. The ones who will cause damage in and around the building because they have no reason not to.  "Providing sustenance is a compassionate act that allows individuals to focus on other challenges and is a prerequisite for getting back on their feet"  How food and water are helpful, not enabling  Meets basic ...

 Remember the Nimby's. Well despite them I am still helping as much as I can but with the financial changes coming I figured I'd better figure out what services I want to provide if I can. First stage is simple and costs me around $75 per week which includes water, juice crystals, Ritz cracker individual packs with cheese or peanut butter and individual snack packs of cookies. This is what I do right now. Right now I also have smokes(tobacco), lighters, bandages and some other very basic first aid supplies, pens and paper. The tobacco will be gone soon and I'm not sure if I will be replacing it which means I don't need the cones either unless I decide to get another bag. Tobacco is quite expensive and I have to make a special trip to a store downtown to get it but it is something they appreciate. They appreciate the lighters more so though, enough that they don't mind paying for them. I tell them pay what you can and I get lots of quarters, dimes and nickels which c...

 A NIMBY for those who don't know is someone who feels like the less privileged not be able to live or play anywhere near them. I live in a building with 41 other studio apartments / one bedrooms. My unit is in the back of the building and from it I hand out water and small snacks to the outsiders, (drug addicts and homeless persons).  NIMBY is an acronym meaning “Not In My Back Yard.” NIMBY refers to people who resist having potentially dangerous or disruptive projects carried out in their own neighbourhoods; they usually don’t object to those projects when they are carried out elsewhere. It is often used to call out hypocrisy and double standards.   I am not sorry for what I do and the outsiders who come see me are decent enough folks, (most of them anyway). Others and at this point it is only two others in the building who also face the back of the building object to what I do. They say I am enabling them. I don't think that way, I am trying to make their lot in li...