I am my scars

I Am My Scars

I used to hate my scars. I found them embarrassing for several reasons. Mainly, because they are blemishes on my skin, because they draw attention to specific parts of my body, because they lead to questions about what happened, and because they force me to admit that I am imperfect in appearance and in action. 

Today I looked at my thigh. I saw the wrinkled skin that looks like a fat slug. I remembered all the ways I used to try to hide it. And I realized that now I embrace my scars. They are like tattoos; permanent reminders and celebrations of where I’ve been and what has made me who I am. My scars are my life story told in flesh. 

I am my scars. 

I am the cartwheels on a shard of broken class in Newfoundland. The sharp knife in the dish water. The shattering glass of the screen door. The scissors I used to cut leather. The jagged metal on the hearth when I painted my Mother’s walls. I am the small lines on my elbows and knees from playing in the woods. I am clam shell cuts and fish hook pokes. I am calluses from crocheting, knitting, whittling and woodworking, bare feet summer hikes, Birkenstocks, and flip flops. I am my finger tips on my first steel string guitar. I am sharp pebbles in red jelly-shoes. 

I am I-don’t-know-what-happened, and where-did-that-come-from. I am falling off bikes, slipping in ballet slippers, leaping before looking, tree climbing, and unprepared balancing acts. I am chickenpox but everyone else has it too so we have to go to school anyway. I am surgery and too many IVs. 

I am tears and snot and pain. I am joy and laughter til my belly hurts. I am adventures and risks. I am warning tales and funny stories. 

This body has carried me and allowed me to do, to play, to create, to try, to feel pleasure, to love. This body is marked by moments in life that shaped me. It tells the stories I’ve tried to hide, the stories of things I’ve forgotten, and the stories shared over endless cups of tea. 

This body has been tortured by me and yet it is still here. Still waiting to be loved. Still waiting to be taken care of. Still willing to let me keep trying. To keep living. 

This body is how I came to be, where I have been, who I am now, and where I am going. This body is my home. This skin is my story. These scars are me. Unapologetic, imperfect, blemished, me. 

The Black March

As Pride Toronto approaches, I am reminded of how much further there is to go. Global violence and persecution of LGBTQ+ people continues to be legal, accepted, and/or ignored. Closer to home, whether it is transphobic acts of violence, a serial killer in Toronto’s gaybourhood, a mass shooting in a Florida nightclub, or a kid in a school yard using the word “homo” as the ultimate insult, LGBTQ+ people are not free. We are not safe. We are not accepted. This Pride Parade, we are encouraged to wear black as we watch the celebration. At the end of the parade, the barriers will come down and we are invited to flood the streets in a March of solidarity to both honour those we have lost, and to visibly show that we will not disappear. We are here. For more info see:  http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/toronto/pride-safety-campaign-1.4680673

Eating Disorders Are Prisons

Eating Disorders are prisons that you did NOT put yourself in. 

They ARE prisons that you can escape from. 

Getting out is hard because there is no early parole, or time served. ED jail cells have doors that actually open. And when you are given the key, it is still your choice. 

Staying behind bars or living in freedom is possible, if you decide that it is possible. 

With the doors wide open, you still have to be the one to walk through them. 

Recovery is hard. It is extremely, terribly, exhaustingly, gut-wrenchingly, terribly hard. 

And it is still better than ED prison. 

Your cell is unlocked. Take the first step and push those bars open.

Notice

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: make an effort to notice something and ask about it. 

Mindfully Mending March is winding down. I have 2 days left of saying "I'm in my 30s" and then I hit the big 4-0. 

I've been thinking about how little we know about some people. And how awkward it is for us to ask out of fear of it not being socially acceptable. 

Do I want to be asked why I'm walking with a cane? Not particularly. Do I want to be asked why I wear a tiny silver spoon on a chain around my neck, absolutely! 

Today, take a moment to notice something you have gotten so used to seeing that you don't really see it anymore. And ask a question about it. A friendly question. 

Be kind,

To yourself too, 

xo

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

ask someone if they know what they need

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: ask someone if they know what they need ... ask yourself if you know what YOU need! 

Chronic illness and/or chronic pain can be lonely and isolating. Unless you live it, you can't ever truly understand it. And even if you do live it, you can't ever really know what anyone else's pain experience is. I find that I am constantly comparing myself  to people who are "worse off than me." Though I don't even know if that's true because I don't know what their pain feels like in their body. I only know mine. 

I think the biggest struggle is that people don't know what to say and I don't know what I need people to say. So how can I seek support when I have no idea what that support would look like? 

This weekend was one of the worst I've had. And there's only so many times I can say "it hurts". I can cry and curl up and hate the world. But I don't know what I need. There isn't anything that can help the physical pain. So how do I seek support for the suffering? 

Also, no one knows what to say to me. "I'm sorry it hurts"  is usually good. But in the depths of despair it feels dismissive. "I wish I could help you" expresses empathy, but adds to the hopelessness. "Can I do anything" makes me feel guilty. "What do you need?" Makes me feel like if I only knew what I needed, things would be better. 

I think when someone is isolated because of pain, what they really need is someone to make them feel like they matter by bringing them tea, or offering to make lunch, or texting a funny meme or a loving meme (as long as it doesn't say something like "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger" because in the throws of agonizing pain that is the LAST thing you want to hear!) 

Acknowledge that your friend/family member/colleague's pain is real. Check in. Text them once in awhile and say how's your pain today? Or how many spoons do you have today? 

Take the extra few sentences when extending a social invitation to say, if you have to cancel I will understand and won't hold it against you. And invite them to do something even if they canceled the last 6 times. 

Find out if they want company in their pain. Maybe they need to be curled up in a ball on the couch but want to watch a movie with a friend. Maybe they can't walk that day but could play a game. 

I think the key is that so often we don't know what to say to each other and in our attempts to be kind or understanding we say things that come across as dismissive or clueless which translates to hurtful. eg "I hope you get well soon" "hang in there, it won't last forever" ... those words are said out of kindness but invalidate the CHRONIC part of chronic illness. There may be good days, but it WILL last forever. And there IS no getting well. 

Learning to truly care for one another means paying attention to the small details that connect us. 

You may not know what it is like to live with daily wide-spread pain. But you have experienced intense pain and you can imagine what life might be like if that never went away. 

You may not know what it is like for the people around you who can't help you with your pain. But you have watched someone in pain before and you know how helpless it feels that you can't fix it. 

Be kind,

To yourself too,

xo

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

share an accomplishment

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: share an accomplishment. 

I thought about whether or not it would be bragging to share my most recent published articles. Bragging is to speak with "excessive pride." I don't know if I'm capable of that. 

I share my accomplishments mostly because I think people might want to read my stuff or look at my art. And then I explain all the reasons why it's not so good. Or all the reasons why I tricked people into publishing me. Or manipulate people into liking me, let alone liking my work. 

To combat that, today I am sharing my articles. I have wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl. My Dad and my Gram took us to Disneyland when I was 6. My Dad bought me this little book that you're supposed to get autographs in. From people dressed up as Disney characters. I remember hiding in the bathroom of the hotel, writing in my autograph book. But I didn't really know how to spell much seeing as I was 6, and I didn't know cursive writing, so I just put squiggles all over the page. 

When I was 17 I wrote about writing. I said "words breathe life onto the page, into me, and I live." 

I wanted to write and I wanted to teach. And now I am. 

So I want to share. Not because I'm bragging. Not because I'm boasting. Not because I am fishing for compliments. But because I am now a writer. 

Here are some of my articles: 

https://themighty.com/2016/11/day-in-the-life-with-fibromyalgia-symptoms/

https://themighty.com/2016/11/tips-for-easing-anxiety/

http://nedic.ca/blog/why-my-grade-8-class-eat-vegetables-0

https://themighty.com/2017/03/talking-to-fibromyalgia/

What is something you have accomplished? For some of us spoonies (people living with chronic illness and/or chronic pain), an accomplishment might be that we showered today. Or that we moved from the bed to the couch. Or that we went for a walk, or did the dishes, or did one load of laundry. 

Maybe you have art in a show, or you taught your kid to ride a bike, or you made a movie, or you got a new job. Maybe you drew a picture, coloured a colouring book, graduated, got into college or university. Maybe you laughed at a good joke - a big belly laugh. 

Celebrate what you are able to do today. And tell someone. Say it. Feel good about one thing you did. 

Be kind,

To yourself too,

xo

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

A strawberry day

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: savour the strawberry moments. 

Geneen Roth wrote a retelling of a Buddhist story. I guess I am writing a retelling of a retelling. 

Short version: a woman who is go go go, like our society is, one day is chased over the side of a cliff by hungry tigers only to discover there are hungry tigers at the bottom of the cliff too. Basically, she's going to get eaten by tigers regardless of what she does next. She sees a strawberry and decides to eat it and savour it. The moral being that there will always be hungry tigers above you and hungry tigers below you, so stop to savour the strawberries. 

That story really stuck with me. We have absolutely no control over the hungry tigers in our life. We just don't. And we can make choices that lead to strawberry moments. We can choose to hide away from the world filled with tigers, or we can seek out the strawberries and make the choice to enjoy them. 

A lack of control scares the crap out of me. So looking for the strawberries is really important. 

What are your strawberry moments? Who are your strawberry people? How can you cultivate your own strawberries? 

Be kind,

To yourself too

xo

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓❤️🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

For the full version of the Geneen Roth story, see https://books.google.ca/books?id=rXiZAAAAQBAJ&pg=PA24&lpg=PA24&dq=geneen+roth+strawberry+story&source=bl&ots=_SlZCAvBS3&sig=OMB4uAwD66DAY2Z1_g9V73F2S6M&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiFifrHxezSAhUqw4MKHTqVBaQQ6AEIIzAD#v=onepage&q=geneen%20roth%20strawberry%20story&f=false 

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

Cry

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: cry because it's better to get it out. 

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

being cared for

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: allow self care to include being cared for. 

There is a major focus on self-care these days. I think that's wonderful. 

I want to suggest that self-care can include seeking support from someone else. Self-care means taking care of yourself. It doesn't mean being the only one who can. 

Be kind,

To yourself too

xo

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

including your own self

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION:  including your own self 

We all have had times in our lives when we were left out or ostracized. As children, it was one of the worst parts of our lives. Being abandoned by friends, or ignored by peers, or gossiped about, or mistreated ... these things hurt us to our cores. 

And then we grow up and we are in our 20s and it happens again and hurts just as much. 

And at 40, we think our peers must have matured as well. And when they don't and we are intentionally left out, ignored, ostracized, it hurts. Sometimes it feels heart wrenching. 

I've been wondering lately if the hurt we feel has more to do with our childhood experiences of social bullying than our actual feelings now as adults. 

So I've decided that it doesn't actually matter what someone else thinks of me. If someone decides not to be my friend, then it's their loss. I don't have time to put effort into a one-sided friendship. In invest my time in the people I love. 

Instead of feeling left out, I involve myself in something else. Even if it's just with myself. No one can complete me. I am complete with myself, as I am. 

I challenge you to worry less about what people you don't care about think of you, and more about what you think of yourself.  

Be kind,

To yourself too

xo

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

Find your feather stick

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: Find your feather stick. 

Whenever I've had rescue animals, they have been older animals needing new homes. Last spring was the first time our rescue animal was just a baby. She was a 7 week old kitten who was so tiny that she slept inside our shirts. We named her Lily. 

In her first week at home, one of us bought a couple of dollar store cat toys. I don't even know which one of us it was. One of the toys was a plastic stick with a couple of feathers on the end of it. 

Feather stick. 

That stupid stick became the most important thing in that kitten's life. She dragged it everywhere with her. You have to remember that at that point she was tiny. And she dragged a long plastic stick up and down 3 flights of stairs multiple times a day. She also jumped up onto high surfaces with feather stick. Of course I'm a jerk and started playing mind games with her by hiding the stick (hiding it somewhere obvious) and waiting for her to find it. When that game got too easy I started to use it to play fetch. 

At some point, Lily decided my having access was far too dangerous for her comfort object. So she started hiding it from ME! 

I started finding feather stick in strange places like under the carpet, under the blankets in my bed, in the bathtub ... One day she hid it so well that I couldn't find it anywhere. 

We replaced feather stick with a new one with completely different coloured feathers. I wasn't sure she would fall in love with the fraudulent toy, but she treats the new one with almost as much love and affection as the first. No matter where I put that thing, she inevitably brings it into the bathroom and I step on it in the dark. 

Lily and feather stick reminded me of research I once did on adults and comfort objects. 

Small children are given or claim objects that bring them comfort, and provide a sense of safety, of soothing, of calm. Then they start school and it becomes socially inappropriate to carry around your comfort item. Why? At what age do you suddenly not need comfort or soothing? Do you turn 5 and now you don't need that ripped piece of cloth from your grandmother's pillowcase that you've slept with for 3 years? You turn 17 and that plastic lizard you've carried in your pocket your whole life suddenly has no meaning and you can't have it any more? 

There are many children who give up their item by choice and no longer need it. That's also okay. 

From my research, these items are called "transitional objects" and are a healthy part of development as a child transitions from dependence to independence. Studies show that children grow out of the need for this item as they learn "other ways" to cope with stress. Other studies show that many people keep their transitional objects into adulthood. 

"The use of transition objects continues through our lives as we imbue objects with meaning and memories that are associated with other ideas, places and people. Photographs, mementos and other memorabilia are used to remember good times and friends. Transition objects may also translate as fetish objects." - Winnicott, D. (1953). Transitional objects and transitional phenomena, International Journal of Psychoanalysis, 34:89-97

I would like to meet one adult who is so self actualized that they never, ever have a need to feel comforted and soothed. 

"As adults, there are other types of objects that serve a similar purpose as transitional object used by children. It is common for adults to keep prized possessions owned by their parents when they were growing up. Dad may have passed away many years ago but wearing his watch is a comforting reminder of that relationship. [...] (they) are a wonderful way to reduce stress. That photograph of mom, jacket of dad’s, china-set you inherited, and other such things, are serve the purpose of reminding us of the happy parts of our childhood and helps comfort us when we are feeling stressed, depressed or very anxious. Some people call these “lucky charms.” Whatever they are called it’s good to have them." - Allan N. Schwartz, PhD, April 23, 2012

I don't disagree. While packing up our house I threw away many items imbued with memories but I just couldn't part with a stupid notebook full of stamps that I collected from mail from my childhood penpals ... and at the same time ... 

I WANT TO TELL YOU TO RECLAIM YOUR THING!!!!! 

Why can't we keep using the item we used in childhood? Who says there are particular objects for children and others for adults? 

And if you can't get back what you had as a child, find something similar. Or something new. And if you never had a comfort object, go find one! 

What would feel soothing to you? Which senses do you want to call upon when you need to be comforted or soothed? A scent? A texture? A temperature? What feels calming? Is there something that reminds you of someone or some time that was so good that just looking at it makes you smile? Does that thing have to live in a box? Or is it a photo you can put in your wallet? 

I have a scarf. More like a shawl in size really. It is beautiful. It was also given to me by someone special to acknowledge something I accomplished. So the scarf represents care, and strength, and love, and a reminder that I can actually do the hard things. In the beginning, I felt embarrassed about carrying it around with me all the time. I was even more embarrassed that I started sleeping with it. I tried to find ways to make it casual like, oh I'm really cold in this 28 degree direct sunlight, I'll just stick this giant scarf in my bag on the way to the beach in case I get too cold ... or ... oh I always carry this with me in case I get cold ... I have fibromyalgia, hypothyroidism, and an endocrine disorder; I don't get cold. 

Now I carry it around like a badge of honour. Screw what other people think. I'm turning 40 in 2 weeks and I have a blankie! I have it with me 24 hours a day (except while it's being washed which I do myself so that I know exactly how long it will be out of commission). 

I know I'm not the only adult with a comfort item. I finally decided, why does it matter what anyone else thinks about what makes me feel good? I have an anxiety disorder and when I get overwhelmed, the scarf reminds me that I'll be okay. 

So if you already have your item, awesome. Feel good about having it. You don't have to share it with the world. But allow yourself the gentleness and compassion that you would show a 2 year old who needs her favourite stuffed monkey to be able to fall asleep. 

And if you don't have anything, I challenge you to go find your feather stick! 

Be kind,

To yourself too,

xo

ps .... we also have the sweetest dog in the entire world who happens to not like any toys or special blankets or anything in particular. She is just a big furry blob of love. 

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)

Finding Joy in Small Moments

MINDFULLY MENDING MARCH SUGGESTION: treasure a small moment. 

Have you ever had one of those moments that was just pure joy, or exhilaration, or ecstasy, or love? And you wished your whole life could feel that way? And then 5 minutes later you've moved on to a to-do task and that moment was gone? 

We all have those moments. And one minute of laughter is often overshadowed by 30 minutes of tears. Or 5 minutes of anger. Or a couple of days of frustration. We forget those joyful moments and move on. 

In this fast-paced, get-it-all-done society that we live in, taking time to appreciate the things that bring us joy is a challenge. 

Who has time to take pleasure in listening to their favourite song when there's laundry to be done, dogs to be walked, dinner to be made ... and I don't mean listen to the song WHILE doing those things. I mean truly listen. Uninterrupted. Doing absolutely nothing except stop and listen. That's what, 3 minutes out of your day? Can we truly not find 3 minutes to do something that boosts our happy hormones? That fills our souls? That replenishes us? That creates a neuropathway we can return to over and over again? 

I've been thinking a lot about how small moments can bring us so much happiness. Will my grade 8 class remember being taught when to add and when to subtract, or will they remember the afternoon we taught them to make crepes and, much to the chagrin of my teaching partner, I let them squirt whipped cream into their mouths? They will remember HOW to add and subtract, but 30 seconds of sugary white cream is what they will remember, not the specific math lesson. 

Choosing the art for this post was challenging. Joy and pleasure are so personal. I scrolled through my several thousand drawings from the last 3 years. I looked at what other people might find joyful. 

And then I found this one. 

My CP and her son captured in a moment of joy, happiness, and love. It was a kitchen dance party caught on camera and probably lasted only a few minutes. I had to draw it. I found some other photos of the love and joy between CP and her son. And those brought ME joy. 

So how can we fit in time for joy? How do we make joy and pleasure a priority? How do we convince ourselves that joy and pleasure are just as important as laundry, carpool, grocery shopping, paying bills, taking the kids to school, going to work, and phoning Great Aunt Matilda on her birthday? 

How? 

It can be done. 

Because think back on your memories of joy ... think back to those moments in life you truly remember. Was it your grade 8 teacher's lesson on the War of 1812? Or was it when your grade 8 teacher stopped at Tim Horton's at the end of a field trip and made sure everyone in your class got a treat? Was it the daily carpool with your best friend Heather at 7:35am, or was it the night that Heather's Dad chased you around his kitchen with a chicken foot while you screamed in laughter? 

Sometimes joy means doing something for yourself. And sometimes joy means doing something for someone else that makes you feel good too. Even if only for a moment. 

The year I delivered gifts to a refugee family and I watched the kids open their presents ... their biggest smiles came from opening the winter coats. The games and toys and art supplies were awesome and they were so appreciative. But the coats ... a winter coat meant the ability to play outside. It meant walking to school and arriving warm enough to learn. It meant being like the other kids. What I saw on their faces in that coat-opening moment was pure uninhibited JOY. Those coats meant possibilities. 

If a wonderful 7 year old girl can find joy and possibilities in a coat, where can you find joy? What small things or small moments can you find joy and pleasure in? 

Be kind,

To yourself too

xo

*All images are property of Fox Tales Art

**All images are available for sale with profits going to www.sheenasplace.org 

Email foxtaleskira@gmail.com for inquiries and browse some options at 

www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FoxTalesByKira 

(Purchasing directly by email, even if the piece is on etsy, saves both of us money and can involve a negotiation in size and in price)