Erin's Journals

The power of being vulnerable. The strength in asking for help. These are two of the underlying themes that have come to Rob and to me so very loudly and clearly since our daughter’s passing in May of 2015. And they’re what I’d like to shine a light on during today’s Bell Let’s Talk Day. 
 
You know what this day is, right? For weeks – if you’re like me – you’ve been getting bogus “share this and Bell will give 5 cents…” and until this day that hasn’t been true. This IS the day. You’ll see it blow up your social media accounts, you’ll hear about this on the radio and see it on TV. It’s a big deal. Here’s a link for more information.
 
Sometimes on a day like this, people will take to their keyboards to demand how a company that has caused so much stress in firing X number of people in the past year (looking at you, radio) can be perceived as being proactive in the cause of eradicating the stigmas surrounding mental illness. Others will ask why their son or daughter can’t get into CAMH or get a recommendation to help save their lives. I have no answers for those and the many other critical questions that will be posed today.
 
All I have is the way I felt about my own struggles: like a great big, fat hypocrite. 
 
Those years where I was cheerily helping to wake up Toronto alongside my partner from 1988 to 1999, Don Daynard, I struggled with depression and a feeling of being unable to cope. I was trying too hard to “have it all” – as the magazines said women of the Baby Boom generation totally could! I felt like a fraud for struggling on the inside while presenting an air that I hoped provided the positive, happy yin to my partner’s lovably crusty yang.
 
I also fought unhealthy body issues and was a terrible example to our daughter: if I wasn’t doing the latest cleanse, I was getting injections and starving to help me lose weight or making our family eat cabbage soup every night, or going to a Japanese restaurant and just eating the shrimp tails left over from Rob and Lauren’s tempura (along with my own meagre servings of sashimi).
 
And it’s not like it was effective; when I was dressed like a hockey ref for one of our TV commercials, a co-worker said – on the air – that I was the first person he’d seen who’d made vertical stripes NOT thinning. Yuk yuk yuk. My boss at the time made a point of showing me a comment in Gary Dunford’s Toronto Sun column that a sports guy at a competing radio station made about my looks. It was a comment I wouldn’t have seen, since I was on vacation. But he made sure I saw it. Fat, ugly…keep going….
 
Surely the calorie intake in the way I coped with the stress, unhappiness with conditions at work and the massive insecurities I fought daily wasn’t helpful: I’d mix myself a bottomless martini or open a bottle (or two) of white wine.
 
I’d be lying if I said I don’t still struggle with some of the issues that I’ve mentioned – I come clean about the drinking and its toll in Mourning Has Broken – and while I feel deep shame about some of my weaknesses, I realize that I’m not alone and never have been.
 
Shame is a useless emotion and it just serves to beat us down. (Brené Brown has some remarkable thoughts on the topic if you want to Google her. I love what she says about no one EVER having the right to say “shame on you…” and how many times have we heard those three words?)
 
Depression runs through my family tree like a thick, black sap. Being on anti-depressants made the sun positively shine in the last third of my mother’s life. I have returned to a prescription in order to help me cope with the last three years of my life; writing and remembering took me to such a place of deep sadness that I found myself asking “What’s the point?” enough to take notice and talk to my doctor.
 
So here’s the thing: there’s no shame in asking for help. Talking is one of the best therapies there is and if you have someone who will listen to you with compassion and WITHOUT JUDGMENT, then you are already, hopefully, on your way to a better place. Meditation is an amazing thing, too. A quiet time to let answers gently come to you, instead of you having to hammer away like a woodpecker on a phone pole. (Insight Timer is a free app that is worth your while.)
 
Life is hard. No one gets out alive. Don’t believe the posts on FB and Instagram showing shiny, happy people. But also remember this: pain shared is diminished and joy shared is multiplied. I didn’t write that, I just believe it, and I will try to live it for whatever time I have left here. Which I hope is a lot.
 
And, please, if you’re not suffering, reach out to someone who is. Let them know that even if they’re not ready to talk now, you will always be there for them when they are. 
 
Even the harshest winter can’t last forever, my friend.
 

And how are you today? I hope that this final Tuesday of January is treating you well – or at least gently. 
 
I know that being present and in the moment is supposed to be a thing – a very big and important thing – but how many times have you found yourself in one place, checking online to see what rates are in another spot for the next time you travel? Maybe that’s just me (although I know my friend Nancy does the exact same thing, so I suspect it’s not!) and we’re guilty of it this week.
 
As our time here counts down to weeks instead of months (and soon it’ll be just days), we’re already looking to this fall. I have some work in Ontario that I hope will parlay into book-related appearances, too, and then we’re going to try the snowbird thing again.
 
So I was looking online at different homes for rent and my heart almost stopped (I know it did something weird) when I saw some reviews on this one place.
 
First of all, the property manager’s name is Louisa Davis. “Loo” is one of the nicknames we had for our Lauren. When I read the woman’s name to Rob, he’s the one who made the Lou/Loo association.
 
But then look at the comment below the Louisa Davis one (which was posted, you’ll note, by an Albert A. Alberta: province of my birth. Hmmm.)
 

 
Yep – the comment below is a loud bit of applause from one “Lauren D.”
 
I couldn’t believe it. This HAD to be, right? We were sure this place was going to be perfect. Alberta. Lou Davis. Lauren D..
 
Then we went into the bedroom to call it a night. And our bedside clock was flashing crazily. Not on-off like a clock that’s had the power interrupted, but changing times like prices on a digital gas station sign before a long weekend. Just…bizarre.
 
So, being the rather superstitious person I am, I thought: Maybe she’s trying to get us to slow our roll on this one. After looking for all the world like this house had the Seal of a-Loo-val, the nutso clock made me wonder if she was telling us something else. 
 
Or maybe it was just two coincidental comments and a flashing clock. There’s always that possibility.
 
Did we see the house? Yes. Was it perfect? Maybe for someone, but not for us; it smelled sour, was dark inside, the furnishings were well-worn and dismal and the whole place was just simply not us. We’d be much better off in the same place we are this winter, thanks. So it was a hard pass.
 
What did it all mean? Two coincidental comments and a flashing clock. Sometimes, as we often remind ourselves, when you hear hoof beats, you don’t look for a zebra. It was just a horse – and not one we wanted to ride, thanks. That’s all. 
 
OR WAS IT? 
 
Have yourself a gentle Tuesday and, finally, because I got such great feedback the last time I linked to one of his videos, here’s a brand new Randy Rainbow parody. I have the utmost respect for this guy: his rhymes, his humour, his musicality and production, and his timing. He turns these things around with lightning speed! Enjoy, and we’ll be back with you tomorrow.
 

Welcome to a new week. As you look at the forecast (or the temperature) today, keep in mind that January is just about over. Soon it’ll be wrong-headed rodents predicting early spring, hearts on sleeves (and everywhere else), pitchers and catchers reporting for duty; hang in there.
 
There is this magic in the way that we are able to communicate, to stay in touch with each other in 2019. Just yesterday, I suggested to a friend at my alma mater that perhaps we would be able to have a Facetime chat about my book (she wanted me to come by Loyalist College in Belleville, something that is just not going to be possible this time around, as I’m not even taking the highway from Oshawa to Ottawa; we’ll be flying instead). I marvel at the options and opportunities that a few simple clicks offer us at every turn.
 
Sure, there are downfalls: the spread of false information, like warnings about vaccines that can be directly linked to an outbreak of measles in the US, and other arguments to science that are not only refutable but can be researched – again – with a few simple clicks. (One easy reminder: weather is not climate and vice versa.)
 
Today I thought, why not start off the week with some beautiful inspiration that I got from a journal visitor named Jill? It made my day when it came in and, with the snow and cold that so many are finding themselves bracing for and battling today, this might be just what you need. She writes: 

Thought you would like to know that when I went on my 3M Cloud Library site, your ebook, Mourning Has Broken is on the top line under New and Coming Soon. So I placed a hold on it. As well, I was able to order it on my Brampton and Bruce County e-library sites that I belong to. So you are getting traction already and I truly wish you success with this new chapter you are embarking on.
 
There is a line in our closing ritual our Beta Sigma Phi members repeat at each Sorority meeting: “if the road we take seems obscured with dust, give us the skill and grace to pave it with stars, to transmute the dust into stardust” and I believe you are doing just that. We always close our meetings repeating “may the Lord watch between me and thee, while we are absent, one from the other.”
 
I do not think of the word Lord in a religious sense, more as a guardian angel. As you often relate in your Blog, Lauren finds meaningful ways to show you she is close by your side, always watching over you and your husband Rob. I am sure she is both smiling and proud, smiling at your strength to make life adjustments and proud of the courage it has taken for you to write about the most difficult, emotional and personal time of your lives.
 
Best wishes on your book launch. I am sure the book will be a great help to a lot of people, just as I am sure it had been very helpful for you. Kind regards, Jill.

I asked Jill’s permission to share that with you, not so I could simply copy and paste kind words about me, but perhaps so that you could take to heart the words in the sorority closing ritual. It’s a lovely little prayer for care and togetherness, to remind us all that we’re all part of something so much bigger than just ourselves and our lives. At times we’re reminded of that by simply sitting back and looking at the vastness of the social media that we are a part of, or on a more basic level, the social fabric of which we are each but a tiny thread.
 
Either way, I loved these words. And may they give you warmth today, too. 
 
Talk to you here tomorrow with a few angel winks that were loud and clear, but that were clearly just coincidences. We think.
 

It’s hard to imagine it, but January is just about at an end. To say that we’ve been busy (and with company coming Tuesday – and a joyous houseful until we leave in mid-February) is an understatement. This is, as Rob put it, “a different locale to work,” and I’m totally okay with that.
 
Writing the journal every day is a labour of love; returning emails (as much as I can keep up with) is, as well. Writing and recording ads for our Rotary Club in Sidney, as well as for clubs in other parts of the Saanich Peninsula, has been great fun and a chance to flex some muscles that haven’t been used in a while. Tweaking a full-page ad for Rotary for the local paper in Sidney has been an intriguing challenge as well.
 
So much to do and it has made time go far too quickly down here. But we’ll try hard to soak in these last few solo days and get set to entertain for the next few weeks.
 
I’m not a natural host; some people make it look extremely easy and I wish I was among them. Perhaps, like you, I’m always concerned that our guests are busy enough or having fun; Rob and I eat so sporadically that I have to remember to buy food for breakfasts and lunches! But we’ll manage; the people who are coming are all dear friends and we’re looking forward to whatever they choose to do during their time here.
 
In one month – exactly – I’ll be in Toronto (and later Ottawa). And I will tell you that at long last I can fill you in on a recently-added Toronto appearance, for those who’ve been writing in some frustration that I was hitting outer areas like Oshawa or Oakville or Uxbridge, but not the city that Rob and I called home!
 
Well, as I mentioned a week or so ago, CHFI is having a contest wherein winners can join Maureen Holloway and me for an Up Close and Personal in the Rogers Theatre on the night of the book launch: February 26. There’s info on the CHFI website and soon you’ll hear ads for it as well. I’m so excited to be talking with Mo and look forward to the familiar confines of that building and its lovely intimate theatre.
 
But here’s the news: the next day, Wednesday, February 27, before I head out to Oshawa for a Chapters Indigo event that evening (and after a morning interview at CTV’s studios with my dear friend Bev Thomson) I’ll be attending a book signing at First Canadian Place in downtown TO at 12:00 noon and am dearly hoping that if you were looking for a chance for us to connect in person, this will work for you. Here’s the info:
 

 
They’re asking that you buy a book there and, of course, I’ll sign and personalize it. I’m just SO happy that Miracle Melissa (my publicist) has made this happen.
 
And so it goes: the calendar gets fuller with every passing day and in the best ways possible. I hope that as we prepare to flip the page and enter a new month in just a few days, you’re seeing 2019 unfolding in all of the ways in which you’d hoped – with maybe even a few added surprises (but only of the best kind).
 
Have a cozy weekend again, my friend, and thank you for coming by. I enjoyed the spirited discussions on FB about yesterday’s “noisy kid” journal. I love that we can share our opinions – even if they differ – in such a civil and safe space.
 
OH! And this Sunday at 9 Eastern Time, CNN is running its documentary Three Identical Strangers. I saw it in a theatre last year and will watch it again – triplets separated at birth find each other in their college years and you will never forget this story. Ever. I wrote a journal about it back in August, and you can find it here, if you’re interested. You’re going to want to set the PVR right now for this amazing film.
 
Take care.
 

Did you hear the story about the Vancouver area man who’s been evicted because of his three-year-old’s “running, stomping and banging?” The story from CTV is here. 
 
Here’s the Twitter-length version: several residents had submitted formal complaints that little Marcus is too loud. Dad admits that the condo’s wooden construction likely amplified the little pitter-pat of Marcus’ not-so-tiny feet, but still, they’ve been given to the end of the month to find new lodgings.
 
And do you know what? I am okay with that.
 
Yes, we have a four-year-old grandson who likes to be boisterous – BOYsterous even – and we get that. But he’s also been taught to be considerate of the feelings of others. That includes those whom you can’t see, but are on the other side of walls or floors or ceilings. It’s called parenting.
 
We had our own terrible neighbour when we lived in a condo in downtown Toronto. Up on the 31st floor, our neighbours above were in what they called the LPH or Lower Pent House. Whether at 11:30 pm or 1 am, we’d be awakened by the very clear sounds of someone practising piano. Same refrains again and again. And did I mention it was loud?
 
Our condo rules specified that a certain percentage of floor space had to be covered by rugs or carpet, in the hopes of keeping down the noise factor. This piano – it was a baby grand, we’re told by staff who’d been in there – was not on a rug until we complained about it.
 
But the young lady playing it (whose parents occupied another condo so their little private school prodigy could do whatever she wanted) didn’t care about our pleas for quiet after a certain hour. Whether or not she knew that I got up at 3:30 am every day, I’m not sure; nor do I think it would have made any difference.
 
When building management would call her the next day, she snapped that her parents have lawyers to “take care of you!” We didn’t stay around to find out if the entitled little twit was telling the truth.
 
When Lauren moved out a short time after all of this silliness, we downsized to a smaller condo on a lower floor. There, we could hear a woman come home every night around 10:30, walk around in her high heels and then often vacuum.
 
The mechanical noise or the clickety-click of heels were better than Miss Thing’s wretched renditions of whatever composer she was making grateful for his decomposition. This overhead overload is also why we always try for a top floor when we book into a hotel. It’s not always possible without blowing the budget, but at least we don’t hear partiers coming in with their stilettos on tile floors at all hours.
 
So, yes, heartless as some may see the decision, I’m on the team of the man’s neighbours, who want, asked for and deserve some peace. Yes, boys will be boys (and nowhere do I see that the child has a condition that makes him unable to control or limit his activity or noise levels), but the words “stop!” and “no!” and “quiet!” go a long way, too. I’m tired of always being at the mercy of other people’s civility (or lack therof).
 
Leaving a condo wasn’t the first or last time bad neighbours made us choose to go: we sold our cottage on the Trent Canal because our new neighbours thought it was just fine to set off fireworks at 1 am on a Monday and to tell us to F-Off when we ran out in our pajamas begging them to stop. If being a good neighbour has to be enforced, then so be it. I hope they like their new home better. Maybe it will be over a bowling alley and everyone can get what they want.