The “So What” of The End

Sometimes we live like we are chasing a dream, like we are chasing an idea about the end goal, some final destination that we  arrive at where we feel like we are fully whole, like we accomplished the thing we set out to do. Like we will finally become our fully actualized ourselves. But, what dream were we chasing? Wouldn’t it be unfortunate to get to the end, to take a step back, and come to the conclusion that we were chasing an idea of happiness? 

What an unfortunate end. We were chasing a gold star, or a the idea of arriving without a plan of what to do once we got there. And the worst part? Arriving there alone and realizing you are lonely. 

That is what I have to deeply reflect on. And, that is where some deep reflection on personal values is necessary. 

Because, as it turns out, life is a process with a finite start and end date. And the end is kind of a moving target. 

Doing in your heart what is write is based on a premise that what is in your heart is aligned with a moral compass that places certain things along a continuum. Because we prioritize a dual narrative of the placing of oneself first, of finding your passion, of being yourself, of not caring what other people think with a dual narrative of doing according to priorities like more likes. This isn’t wildly different than a past where our doing was based on a small narrative. Now it’s based on a highly visible, quickly spread one in which the innovation came because of ability to sell things. The narrative of finding your passion isn’t built entirely on creating a greater good. It’s built on an individualistic view of oneself as the most important. Narcissistic. While pointing to others who engage in effectively the same behaviour in a different domain and attacking them for it.  

Parenting is Never Easy - Memories of My Childhood That I Talk About In Therapy

 There are so many days where I hear myself lecturing my kids about something so ridiculous (like using too much toilet paper, or charging their headphones, or the perils of not hanging up a fresh towel to replace the one they put in laundry after they took a shower, or the environmental impact of always using a new towel every time they take a showe) that I just think, “Michelle, you sound like a crazy person right now, they will definitely talk about this in therapy when they grow up.” I certainly wouldn’t want to listen to me. 

There are many many moments in my day when I think, instead of telling my daughter how her teeth will rot out of her head if she didn’t brush them every night I should just her what a good and wonderful person she was and how much I appreciate her trying her best. So much Criticism. 

Looking back at my formative years I remember my brother constantly calling me fat, and my parents never saying anything in response. My brother and his friends hatefully teased me in elementary school and maybe my parents were not around to hear it because they both worked full-time, but when I remember is them loving him more than me. I remember them buying him pair after pair of Reebok pumps (they were the best new thing in 1989) and Miami Dolphins leather jackets, Mondetta shirts, and Doc Martens, while I got to shop at Zellers. Did they love him more than me? Probably not. But that’s how I remember it. 

Love,

Michelle D. 

Scraping It Together to Contribute to the Economy (or Barely Making Ends Meet for the Priviledge of Working)

 It is a choice for two parents to have professional career. It is a choice to have children. It is a choice to live in an expensive urban centre. These are choices that my partner and I made, together. 

Summer is a tough time because school is out. It’s even tougher economically for many working parents because we do not have 2 months of paid vacation to coincide with school vacations (what an idea for work schedules or rotations to match annual school calendars). I live in a smallish city in the lower mainland. My partner and I are both nurses, an essential healthcare profession. We both have careers that we love, it is increasingly tough to live in the lower mainland. We chose to have four kids, a seemingly incredible choice in a country where the birthrate is much much less. It’s childcare expenses times four in the summer. Our oldest child is 12 but there’s no way they are staying home unsupervised all summer and they are too young to get a summer job. 

I have many parental failures each month. This month started off with a doozy. This year Canada Day fell on a weekend. Normally, when the statutory holiday is on a weekend the following weekday is the day off for all those who regularly work Monday to Friday. As you probably know, childcare is a service that is almost exclusively for parents who work Monday to Friday roughly between the house of 8:00is to 4:00ish. I made the mistake of assuming the childcare I booked and paid for for my kids this week started today. This is a mistake I made despite emails sent out by the childcare provider with dates July 3-7. I just assumed it started on Tuesday because why would parents who work Monday to Friday need childcare on the Monday if Monday is a stat? Nope, I was so wrong. And my mistake is one times 4 because I paid for 4 kids. 

This morning when I realized my mistake I immediately emailed the childcare camp provider, admitting it was my mistake but could they provide me with some kind of refund, after all this was a super expensive mistake on my part. They didn’t call or email or have any kind of communication yesterday when all 4 of my kids failed to show up for the day camp. I got a pretty heartless email back that essentially read “it was your mistake, we don’t call and assumed something came up and you decided not to bro t them” the end. My heart kind of broke. I have sent my kinds to this camp for a number of weeks over the past 3 years. The complete lack of empathy was shocking to me. It was my mistake, but it was a $400 mistake. At least some sort of empathetic response would have been nice. 

So now I am on the defensive. I feel like I am not a valued customer. And frankly, I am angry that their reminder email did say something like “Please note this camp starts on Monday July 3rd despite it being a recognized federal statutory holiday”. So I am holding on to this anger because I am a parent of 4 in one of the most expensive cities in the Country who works in a job that is essential and I just flushed $400 down the metaphorical toilet with no empathy from the company that I have been a loyal customer to for the past 3 years. 

Needless as to say, I am giving them a negative Google review…because of this incident and because my 11 and 12 year old are too old for the camp that takes up to age 13. 

Love,

Michelle D.