Restless Legs cured?

10 12 2016

quote-i-haven-t-found-anywhere-in-the-world-where-i-want-to-be-all-the-time-the-best-of-my-life-is-the-sean-connery-41134Well, not the medical malady. More the moving all the time thing. My friends mock me for it, those who choose to stay put for years and years can’t understand it, even the local landlords have taken to asking me prying questions about my moving history.

It’s true. Since I left my husband, I’ve moved a lot. Partially because of work, partially because I rent and so don’t HAVE to stay put. And partially, as my kids say, because I seem unhappy and can’t settle.

I’m not unhappy. Clinically depressed, probably. But not unhappy. I’ve loved all of my surroundings for various reasons, and disliked them for various reasons. My youngest son thinks I’m crazy to move so often but he moves every few months; my middle son changes jobs frequently. I suspect we all have somewhat restless souls.

When I first had to stop work, I moved to Ottawa to be close to the kids and still be near supportive services. I didn’t know how long this MS would give me to play. I wanted to be somewhere with good public transit and medical services in case things went bad.

But, after a year in Ottawa, my ex remarried and all of a sudden I needed to be further away. I still loved my in-law family but it was time to make space for his new wife in the constellation. It was too awkward for both of us to be there, me knowing the history, she knowing the present. I thought carefully, and decided to return to the sea, the place where my heart had settled, the divine and magical Nova Scotia.

5cc883be42d2e36462ba6d1389c495daTo my astonishment and gratitude, the MS thing seems to be taking me away slowly. Yes, walking can be a challenge. Yes, I lose my ability to think concretely if I am in a crowd or if there is noise or if I’ve done too many things that day. Yes, I’m in pain a lot of the time and numb even more. There are those other things, too, not to be mentioned in a public blog. Unless I’m tired and have lost my filter. Which happens a lot and explains why so many people know of my misadventure with the peppermint foot cream….

My plan had been to write and become a locally-known author. Instead I’m a somewhat known crafter and sometime writer, former volunteer and somewhat snarky group member (I never hung out in groups as a kid or adult and it still feels itchy now).

view-of-halifax-harbour-from-the-dartmouth-side-with-ferry-in-foreground-bepyed

my favourite mode of transportation

I’ve dug a cozy nest for me here, lined with wonderful friends who are surrounded by yarn or tasty treats or fun conversations or interesting life stories or all of the above. I feel blessed, most of the time. (Except when that MS chews at my brain and makes me think it is all for nothing. Most of the time I can whip my thoughts back into shape and I’m getting help for the times when I can’t. And my MS friends here understand and we laugh about it together until I feel better.)

I miss my family (just a wee bit far away), and I long, occasionally, for the bustle of Ontario. I miss my fabulous cousins, many of whom for SOME REASON live in Ottawa… But I have the sea, and that is a tremendous comfort. There’s vast, changing beauty, just outside my door…

I’ve moved a lot since I 20130101-downtowndecorations-06came to Dartmouth – started in the suburbs because of my dog, moved in closer each succeeding move, and now I am exactly where I want to be, tucked into
friendly downtown Dartmouth, steps from the waterfront and the ferry, and Halifax is a 15 minute boat ride away. My apartment is wonderful, if a bit snug. I hang out here with my cat and his fish and I can see the world going on outside my window. I run down a flight of stairs and I’m in the stream, part of the streetscape.

It’s strange to be comfortable here, especially as it is wonderfully noisy in the summer,

lakebanookf

Follow the ferry back and you’ll end up at my house!

hot and humid for months, and now I am currently freezing my tail feathers off * because of a heating system that is NOT geared to people who don’t work. High electricity rates during the day do not a warm DA make! But…it’s home.

Every once and awhile I think about buying property, but when I am sensible I know that this place is just enough for my energy level – easy to tidy, nothing too strenuous to accomplish, walking distance to everything. Heck, I rarely even have to cook, with places to grab a bite all over the place!

Can it be I am finally settled?

quote-there-came-a-time-when-you-realized-that-moving-on-was-pointless-that-you-took-yourself-stephen-king-51-62-59

hmm

*(I rather suspect I feel at home in the chill because my mother used to turn the furnace down to sub-zero to manage the bills on our huge house, especially during the oil crisis…my dad took to wearing a heavy wool hat in the evenings in protest. Maybe I should try that?)

 

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Enroute to Newfoundland

18 08 2013

I’m off to our oldest/newest province today, a place I’ve never seen before except in a series of award-winning television ads that make it look like paradise.

I’m sure the reality will be slightly different, but I am already charmed about the experience because every single expat Newfoundlander I’ve met has been so fun, funny, and sweet. Surely a province full of such people and the natural glory of the landscape will be astonishing.
Toss in a few whales (figuratively speaking, one hopes), some puffins, Gros Morne, St. John’s, Trinity and Twillingate (they alliteratively remind me of Tweedledee and Tweedledum) and I am prepared for another wonderland.

I’ve been saving for this trip for a while, financially and physically. I’m travelling alone, joining a tour. I’ve never done a tour before. It’s been awhile since I travelled alone, except on the way to meet up with people. In fact, I think the last time was a trip to the Bloody Words conference and even then I knew people there. This will all be fresh, new, different.

I’m going to grow myself into the experience and deny myself technology, spend the time instead BEING THERE, instead of leaving one foot at home. That will be hard, too. As a person with MS who spends a great deal of time at home, technology has been my connection. But I need a break.

So off I go, radio silence soon, and just me and some newbies and a fair number of folks from all over to meet. Puffins ho!





The natural connection

8 07 2013

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I’m hanging out at a cottage of my friend, listening to the early morning birdcall that drowns out the sound of ocean surf. It’s green and lush here, filled with happy sounds of squirrels running overhead, sweet flollipy bunnies galumphing in the yard, tiny birds chipping and chirping while crows caw overhead.

And behind, the breathing ocean, in out, in out, with the occasional sigh of a large wave crashing.
It’s soothing and grounding, this close contact with nature, the touch of sand on your feet, the whisper of water over your toes.

The water here in PEI is unnaturally warm. Last night when I dipped my toes in, they didn’t shriek with pain as they normally do. It seemed odd, combined with my childhood memories of a time where people swimming would turn a pale shade of blue. Pointed out that the world is indeed changing.

But still the birds sing, the grass grows, twitterpated squirrels chase one another through the trees. You can’t help but think, somehow, it’s all right in the world here…on this “gentle island”.

Time to go walk barefoot through the grass…





Water connections

6 07 2013

20130706-180228.jpg

I’m heading to the ocean tomorrow for a brief stay, onto the amazingly well-maintained and trimmed shores of Prince Edward Island.
It’s unspeakably gorgeous there, miles of sandy beaches and waves and a salt wind. It does lack the harsh slap of waves against rock that the Eastern Shore of Nova Scotia has, the daily reminder of the ferocity of the Atlantic. PEI is justifiably called the gentle island, with smooth curves and sensuous roads, red soil peeking naughtily out from under the green green grass.

And the water curling around the island, encircling it, embracing it.
Paradise.





Sometimes, I need the sea…

7 11 2012

Okay, as Nanowrimo procrastination, I’ve wandered about the internet, looking for houses on Nova Scotia’s Southern Shore. It is true madness, but all it took was me seeing that there is a Ukulele ceilidh happening there every two years to make me wish to live in Liverpool. Well, that and the view of a multi-coloured house painted by mad artists who did full paintings on every stair riser.  It’s for sale, and my wild side wants it.

They are obviously characters in Liverpool, and that’s cool. And the ocean is right there, and that’s cool, too. Not that it’s far away here in Dartmouth, but I live in utter utter suburbia, quiet enough you can hear the water babbling in the creek that runs behind us here.

And sometimes, I wish for a good strong wind to blow the fur out of my brain, and the scent of salt. It doesn’t filter its way often way over here, surrounded as I am by “little houses, on a hillside, and they’re all made of ticky tacky“. . .

So today, my exercise and renovation buddy and I decided to take ourselves on a walk by the sea. Not the beach today – it’s just turned cold and we weren’t psychologically or physically ready for the full sea air treatment, but down around a harbour, and through a woodland path.

It was a good choice over the gym. They gym, nice as it is, always feels like I’ve been placed in a science museum with a bunch of research gerbils and we are all running endlessly on our exercise wheels, chirruping to ourselves. It feels very good to exercise, yes it does, but the wind is helpful, too.

Our legs gave out right by a well-positioned bench, so we sat and looked at the sea, and the wind tumbling the oak leaves together like hands clapping for our performance. The sea stretched out in front of us, vast and surprisingly calm and blue. The air was fresh, unused. It made my brain feel the way it does when I eat those intolerably strong peppermints – cool and a bit spicy and cold when I breathed in…

There’s a huge tree along our walking path, with a branch that looks like it was specifically set up for a rope swing. The whole experience made me long for a house of my own, with a bunch of my trees around it, and a view to the ocean, with windows to open to the breeze.

We staggered back, MS legs not quite ready for the distance, and ears freezing.

But better. So much better.

 

 





Anger and hostility are good/bad for writing…

22 09 2012

Hey y’all.
Had a terrible week. Pretty bad all over. I hate everyone, even myself, and this Dairy Milk chocolate bar just isn’t doing the cheer-up trick, so I know I’m in deep.
It’s all in my head, though, and I’m feeling vaguely bi-polar – filled with excitement at the thought of Word on the Street tomorrow, racing about for final details for my Bloody Words Mystery Conference table and “the pitch” I’ll be giving for the book I’m writing with the irrepressible Sex Lady Karen K. I’ve got no reason to be angry or hostile or anything except happily typing away here and gazing out into the mood-enhancing fog.

Even my horoscope is telling me that all of my mistakes are my fault and I should just take ownership of them and charge on, focused on the prize.

But I can’t help myself up – all it takes from most anyone today is a sideways glance and I’ll snap…Just in a frumious Bandersnatch mood and so I should stay out of firing range, right?

But no. I keep trying to TALK to people, which is not a good idea.

On the good side, my last attempted conversation lit up an entire line of annoyances and now I am typing madly.
So maybe it will all turn to right.

In Chocolat, by Joanne Harris, she writes marvellously about the west wind, and how it makes her character restless, uneasy. Here in Dartmouth, it’s swampy, hot, gusty. I want nothing more than to walk the beach alone and throw rocks at the helpless ocean. I’ll promise that for myself tomorrow, after my toil.

Today I am getting ready, like a coiled steel spring. It’s truly frightening to behold…








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