Gee, I wish the packing was done already

Even though I am really excited about this move, OMG, I HATE PACKING! I have only been in this apartment a little over a year and I feel like I have so much stuff. But I will get it done. I have to.

I want the back and forth to be over. I’m already thinking of Kingston as “home” and it’s getting harder and harder to come back to Arnprior. When my nephews and sister dropped me off today, the youngest cried when I told him I’d see him tomorrow: “No, I come.” It was so sweet.

Anyway, a bit more packing got done this afternoon. Tomorrow I will get up early and spend the day filling boxes. Because I just want to be home already.

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The Joys of Moving

As I prepare for this next chapter in my life, I am getting bogged down with lists. Lists of things to do, addresses to change, and people I need to tell.

This week I’ve already tackled a few things on those lists. I have spoken to my insurance agent, my bank, my doctor, my pharmacist, my Ontario Works case worker, the outreach recovery program coordinator. Tomorrow I will tell my great-aunt Audrey that I’m moving. 

I am really excited about this move. I am making the most of this chance to start over. I just wish I was finished packing already.

My life is full of lists

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Here I go again…turning my life upside down

Some big changes are on the horizon for me. And I’m not going to lie, they scare me. Because they mean I’ll be living with people again. But I was presented with an opportunity that should benefit everyone involved.

So, here goes: I’m moving to Kingston. My sister and her boyfriend have offered me a job. I’ll be babysitting my nephews. And because of their schedules, I should be able to pick up about 10 hours a week at one of the nearby stores.

I’ve been trying it out for the past week and I’m really enjoying getting to know my youngest nephews better. And my sister and I have been spending time together, going for walks, watching movies, baking and cooking, sewing.

I’ve been in Arnprior for almost 2 years now and honestly, I still feel like an outsider most of the time. So, I think a change is just what the doctor ordered.

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Small Town Living

After almost 2 years, I think small town living is growing on me. People recognize me when I go out, go into stores, or the library. The staff at my pharmacy knows my name. The library staff recognize me and know if I have books on hold. When I’m out walking, people wave at me.

And funny stuff happens when you live in a small town. An innocent conversation about my hobbies can lead to connections. My friend from Ottawa, Darlene, came to hang out today. In her words, she felt like “playing”, so we went for lunch, we DID NOT have ice cream for dessert (the ice cream was DELICIOUS), and we poked around in a few stores. While we were in Dollarama, I said I could make a dish towel ditty bag for her (anyone familiar with Brownies and Girl Guides knows what a ditty bag is). As we were talking, a woman in the aisle said it must be nice to know someone who sews. She went on to say that she always has to get her pants hemmed. After further conversation, I gave her my number, and she told me anytime I wanted to spend time by the water, I was welcome to come to her place. So I told her I would gladly trade hemming services for time at the water. We’ll see what happens.

In other news, I have an appointment with my Ontario Works caseworker this week, and I’ve decided I’m going to start looking for work after Labour Day. I’ll start with something part-time and go from there. I feel ready.


Robert Simpson Park, Arnprior

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I’m Still Here…and I’m Still Moving Forward

I know it has been over a week since I posted. And in that time I’ve really been paying attention to my moods. And I’m beginning to wonder if the combination of my anti-depressant with my hormonal birth control might be causing some mood swings. I will be bringing it up with my case worker this week, and my doctor next Monday. I’m still waiting for an appointment with the county’s psychiatrist, but it’s on my list of things to mention to him.

However, the point of this post is not to talk about my moods. But rather, to share some of the fun things I’ve been up to lately.

I’m really enjoying the outreach program. Not only have I met some interesting people, but I’m doing things that I never thought I’d be doing. Since starting my “therapeutic journal”, I’ve been dabbling with drawing and colour. Specifically, I’ve been playing with oil pastels. And while I’m certainly not spectacular at it, I love it. I find it very soothing to blend colours and try to recreate ¬†pictures that I’ve taken.


Stormy Seas

A little over a week ago, I spent some wonderful time with a former friend of my mother’s. It was really good for me to have some gaps filled in, especially since my mother and I didn’t talk for 5 years after my father died. This former friend was able to do that for me. She may not know this, but she helped me to remember some things about both of my parents, good and bad. And she helped me see my parents in me. I see my mom when I look in the mirror. But I see my dad when I look at my mannerisms.We spent a really awesome Sunday together. First up was breakfast at the Antrim Truck Stop. Then we poked around a couple of stores. And for lunch, we didn’t have ice cream. I DID NOT have Black Raspberry Rumble, and she DID¬†NOT have Butter Pecan. I sure hope we can hang out again soon.



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Doing the Scary Things

This past week I did several things that scared me. Things that pushed me out of my comfort zone. Things that made me face my anxiety head on.

  1. Last Sunday, I went into the town’s health food store. They had a “Help Wanted” sign in the window. I asked what they were looking for. Now, in the spirit of full disclosure, I didn’t end up submitting my resume. Simply because they were looking for someone with knowledge of and experience with herbal supplements and minerals and such. I don’t have that knowledge at all. But I went in and asked. Which is huge progress, I think.
  2. I finally made it to the Recovery Outreach program. In fact, I went both days this past week. On Wednesday, I went for a walk, weeded the garden beds and watered flowers, had lunch, and then started my first Therapeutic Journal (once I have a few more pages done, I will blog about this). On Thursday, I went on a larger group outing to the beach at Fitzroy Provincial Park. I’m not going to lie, I was terrified and anxious both days. But I went. And I’m glad I did. I’m really looking forward to this week.
  3. And here’s the scariest one of all. I can’t be the only person who finds it hard to make friends as I get older. Putting myself out there is so hard. But I did. And I’m hopeful. There is a lovely woman who works at my favourite clothing store here. Anytime I go in, we always have a lovely chat. So, I was in one day this past week, and I went for it. I asked if she would be interested in getting together for a drink or a coffee or something. We exchanged numbers. Of course, I now feel like a kid in middle school. Should I message her? Should I wait for her to message me? Should I just go into the store again? However, as I write this, I have decided to text her tomorrow, ask how her weekend is going, and see if she’s free at all this week.

What have you done lately that conquers your fears? I’d love to hear them.

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Two Weeks

Two weeks since my last post. Two weeks ago I was so proud of myself. Two weeks can make such a difference.

I haven’t posted in two weeks because I’ve been slipping. And all I want to do is hide. I want to hide that I’m struggling. I want to hide that I’m slipping. I want to hide that I want to just disappear.

Two weeks ago I got approved to participate in the group outreach program. And I have not gone once. I have every intention of going. Then Wednesday rolls around. And I just don’t care. I feel like it doesn’t matter whether I go. Because I’ll still be invisible. Last Thursday I spent the ENTIRE day in bed. For no other reason than I just didn’t give a flying f*ck.

I saw my GP last week and mentioned this to him. But he’s not a specialist. And he can only do so much. So this week, when I see my Case Manager, I’m going to ask her to refer me to the Mental Health Unit’s psychiatrist. Because something has to change. I can’t keep going like this.

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