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Restocking my spoons…

I want to click my heels three times and be there.

I want to get swept up in a tornado and land there.

I want to fall down the rabbit hole and find myself already there.

I want the Tardis to land on my doorstep.

I want Calgon to take me away.

I want Scotty to Beam. My. Ass. UP.

In two nights, two do-do’s, two sleeps…I am on holidays.

Words fail to articulate the enormity of this to my friends and family, but I will most assuredly try to express my “*SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*.”

For 10 days, I will be going camping with my betrothed.

[enter nonchalant shrug, stage left]

But wait!!

For 10 days, I will be going camping with my betrothed with: NO. KIDS.

10 days. Camping. No children in, on or around me.

[enter collective nod of understanding, stage right]

Now, you ask yourself…”How does she plan to arrange camping, aka: living outside in the elements, with her chronically ill kiester??”

You think that it’ll be uncomfortable? Let me illuminate you as to what “uncomfortable” means to me:

I’ve spent the last several years pushing through pain almost, at times, as bad as the kidney stones and gallstone attacks I’ve had in my life.

I’ve spent two of those years as a single mother of FIVE working a full time job managing the chaos of my reality.

I’ve spent the past 4 years providing childcare and putting the needs of other people’s children before my own.

I’ve spent multiple years of 10 month stretches of doing the school bus runs in -37C or +37C…pisspouring rain, or blizzard-y ice.

I know “uncomfortable.”

This past year has been one of…well…”holycraponacracker.” A whirlwind met a tornado and begat my reality.

My illnesses were getting worse, I landed in hospital. My fiance moved in. I received my diagnosis of SLE (systemic lupus erythematosus). I received my diagnosis of secondary Sjogren’s. I got engaged. I received my diagnosis of Fibromyalgia.

I was told my diabetes had progressed to requiring oral medications. The confirmation of Raynaud’s phenomenon.

Then. THEN.

I had to downsize my daycare by letting my little baby boy go and just keep the afterschool girls (a family I’d had for 3 years prior). I had to concede that the relationship between my oldest son and second son was SO toxic, that perhaps my oldest would be better spending a little time with his grandmother and step-grandfather. He left my home in April for an indeterminate period of time. I also had to concede that the atmosphere in the house with the three younglings and daycare children was far too difficult for my second boy to handle, and that he wasn’t progressing as well as his specialized school programs had set out to assist with, with his behavioural difficulties. He left to live with his father and step-mother in June.

Two sons in two months.

[enter howthefrakareyoustillstanding, stage center]

And….and I continue to work. I continue to manage the finances and manage the household. I continue to plan for the future of my children. I continue to try to come up with SOME strategy that will allow me to function within the chaos of this reality…

Living outside for 10 days really doesn’t scare the shit out ofme at all. Truly.

I want this. Need. This. DESERVE. THIS.

So. So how do I ensure my safety and health while living outside for 10 days?

Well, that’s easy. See, we’re going camping at one of the biggest spiritual festivals held in Canada (Kaleidoscope Gathering), with about 300 of my closest friends, and the potential for about….oh…400 more.

Which means: I’ve dear friends who will help remind me to stay out of the sun. I’ve a kickass watch that will remind me to take my meds (It’s freakin’ purple. HELLO!!). I’ve spent the last four days cooking to freeze appropriately healthy meals. I’ve friends who understand if I need to go rest, sit down, or otherwise sit on my I’ve-earned-this-ass and do nothing.

I can do whatever the hell I want, whenever the hell I want to. For 10. Days.
And, being a spiritual festival, there will be no shortage of me taking stock of my priorities, perhaps re-arranging them, even. This is for me to re-group, re-focus and generally get my ass back on track to being comfortable again in my own skin. Sometimes (often, in fact) I think we fall down, but never really pick ourselves back up. We do the butt-shuffle through our daily lives.

I’m going on holidays camping for 10 days to detox from having lived this last year of my life on my ass. It’s oh-so-much easier to go forward on your feet, no? And maybe…just maybe…I’ll find some more stack-o-whack while I’m there!

And ya…we’ve got a Soul Pad tent. Irony? Or Destiny? ;o)


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