The Empty Swing

…crying at 3am

Again. I am sorting to get myself back to sleep at 3:15am. Do not read it if you are feeling tender hearted. 💖💖💖 The book I’ll like make later in the day, and I will hopefully be feeling okay in the light of day. The tiny book writing is after the 📚📚📚

(I present you Bou (pronounced Boo). Made by a 10 year old on a surprise day off from school, due to weather, when her mom brought her, her sister and herself to a strange place called Curious & Kind)

📚📚📚

The Empty Swing

💖💖💖

I was sleeping. I did get to sleep. My partner’s snoring woke me up around 2:30am.

Yesterday was such a full day. A beautiful day. I want to save the re-telling it for the end of this sorting, because I know being reminded of the exquisite good that exists in the world is what will help me get back to sleep.

But right now I’m overwhelmed. It must be my extra-sensitive day.

(and I’m sensitive normally, but on this day of the month in my hormone cycle my partner’s snoring feels like aggression and being woken up from sleeping when I absolutely need sleep feels terrible. I do not need advice. Or to be told how to fix this. It is not as simple as…sleep in another room, or “why can’t I just not be perimenopausal and autistic”…) this is in a whispered sub-parenthetical because I want to document my experience but not accidentally invoke people needing to coach or help me. I do not want that interaction. I am super happy with commiseration or tales from the other side of menopause. If that’s something you feel like sharing.

I think a “regular” (whatever that means) person would also be overwhelmed by the week that I’ve had, the new year full of so many things all spinning at once like tops on a table.

Having Curious & Kind. A focus and a space to both spend my energy and reclaim it. That has been amazing. That space has provided me friendship and community. That space is not part of my overwhelm. It is the life raft that keeps me afloat.

So many of my important friends further afoot are managing huge life changes. It feels like all of them, right now. I know it isn’t. But it feels that way. Big things. Death things. Relationship things. And I love them all. And am providing gentleness and comfort when I have capacity and am capable. I am no one’s only friend. I have set it up that way on purpose. Everyone I know has community outside of our friendship. That is magic. But it still doesn’t stop me from feeling and wanting to be there in a physical way. Making them tea. Sitting with them the way that I do for the community at Curious & Kind.

On Thursday morning I got a message from my friend who comes on Thursdays and I was so excited because not only was she coming to make art, but she was bringing her two wondrous boys, and an extra kiddo who belong to another friend.

These kids, and my friend, they really get the space. It doesn’t feel like work to have them be there for two and a half hours. It feels like a magical hang out. I got to finish my tiny book, and help them make monsters.

I got to read to one of them while he ate lunch, and he read his favourite page to me. It was literal magic.

My friend, she also made a tiny book based on an upcoming prompt…and I can’t wait to share it with you. It’s beautiful, and funny, and strange in the most perfect way.

So my first three hours of Thursday were perfect.

They left and I was setting up for the Creative Club run by a wondrous 9 year old that was on hiatus during the holidays. I was looking forward to hearing her stories.

…instead I got a surprise drop in. School had been canceled. And I had invited her to drop in over the holidays, but our communication wires got crossed.

So now I had three young girls and a cool mom who had never been in the space before arrive just before club, which I usually close the space for, so the 9 year old can be in charge of the proceedings.

What she arrived to was three young girls already engaged in creative play. She took it so well. She was kind. She and I played a game of cooperative memory cards while we waited for our remaining club member to join us. A wondrous artist in her 70s.

The 9 year old let me know she was a little overwhelmed by the bustle of the lovely group, and she and her club member went into the front space to sit on the couch and felt.

Had I been more prepared, I could have done some tiny community building amongst the four children, but I think the 9 year old kiddo was happy to have some one on one time with our artist friend.

So I made more monsters with the cool mom and the girls she brought.

Moments from a Thursday

All in all, it worked out. Everyone was happy. It was magical. The group of girls left a little early and I was able to join Creative Club for the last half hour.

At 5pm everyone was out the door. The day had passed so quickly. I hadn’t eaten since the farmer’s market meal earlier that day. But I knew sushi was open and just around the corner, and I was so excited about getting avocado rolls that I didn’t prepare myself for the potential that I couldn’t have them.

I worked at the sushi place, which means I get the benefit of an honest reception. And last night the one server, my friend, was overwhelmed. Three big tables. All with big orders to punch in.

He looked at me, and I could tell he had to deliver difficult news. Takeout would be an hour.

He gently suggested I go home and come back and pick it up.

But I knew I was at the edge of my capacity. I’d been holding space for kids for 6 hours straight. With no break. That’s a full school day.

…and though I wasn’t tired, I was very hungry.

I managed to let my friend know this information without crying. I felt the tears welling up. But I threw him a little heart emoji with my hands. And told him thank you and wished him an easy night.

When I’m dealing with a lot of big things. Like the state of the world and government violence. And hoping my friends are safe. And all the other things…sometimes it’s the little things that get to me.

But I help it together. I drive home. I was excited because it was so warm I could take my dog for a walk.

She was excited. I was excited. We started our route. I was as nearly home when my friend’s son came out with his dog. We started chatting…and then…my pup’s friend, a younger more energetic version of the same kind of dog came flying out the door.

I tried to grab him.

But he was so hell-bent on freedom that he wriggled away and nearly got into it with a big dog who is tied in the yard one over. Thankfully he has some preservation instincts, and instead he ran across the street and just missed being run over by an oncoming car.

(This all turns out ok on the end. You can breathe easy.)

My friend, his son, our two dogs, we headed down the road this energetic pup had sprinted down.

I kept the road clear. My pup is so patient. They finally got the pup. But my friend has legs that sometimes give out, so I offered to carry his pup while he walked my dog.

Thankfully this pup loves me. And though he squirmed, he acquiescenced to my gentle voice and telling him he was such a good pup for coming home with us.

I am grateful for my body and the amazing strength it showed getting that pup home.

I’m grateful for neighbours who are friends. That I was there to help.

Candy (my pup) and I walked home and I gave her dinner (and a treat) and then called my mom to tell her of my adventures. She walked me through every bird that was at her feeder/ it was the sooting interaction I needed to calm my nervous system.

My partner finished work. We went on a grocery store adventure. We picked up food for the evening, and for the weekend when we’ll have two teenagers to feed.

We made easy dinner. I had a salad.

I finally sat down. We are walking Stranger Things like it’s a job right now. One a night, so I can’t stay slightly culturally relevant to my children and their generations. It isn’t good. It’s also unnecessarily stressful.

So then we watched Benson. Which is silly but oddly comforting.

…and then we watched Limmy’s Show, we my partner had watched 15 years ago, and enjoyed. I’m not sure it aged well.

By this time I was tired. I sent some messages to my friends who are social workers; community builders and activists in the U.S. I think wanted to let them know that I was thinking of them, hoping they were safe.

Then my partner and I played one game of Word Blitz and I was, as my mother used to say, out like a light.

Only to wake up 2 and a half hours later to the ragged breathing of my partner.

I tried to avoid doomscrolling by checking my messages and one of my friends had written back. He told me he was safe. He painted a tiny picture of comfort and safety.

But then he said. How are you?

And knowing he was safe plus having someone, genuinely, ask how I was…that’s when my body was like “hey, I’ve got all the tears you’ve avoided crying today, let’s go.”

And I genuinely responded to my friend. Told him about the highs, the low, and the fact that I’m so grateful that he is safe. That as of right now, all the people I love are safe.

While writing this newsletter I have calmed myself, and tried all the ways I usually do to stop them from snoring. None have worked yet. But they usually oddly stop around 5am. I’m not sure why.

So I’ll likely stay up playing more word games until they stop.

Then tomorrow I will play chess like I’ve done every Wednesday and Friday since the beginning of October. Then I will drive to the city to pick up my kids. I will ask if they want hugs. And if they do I will hug them tight. I will tell them I love them. I will remind them how grateful they are the kids I was gifted in this life.

And then I will take Saturday off everything news and work related…(except writing the tiny book, I love that part of my day so much).

The snoring has stopped! Sleep is imminent.

I’m sending you love from this quiet room at 4:21am, on the east coast of Canada.

Heart,

Wake

📚📚📚

It’s 1:55pm and I’ve cleaned my kitchen. Taken my dog for a walk…and written this tiny book, which I think is weirdly my favourite yet.

The Empty Swing