Erin's Journals

Just a thought… The degree to which a person can grow is directly proportional to the amount of truth he can accept about himself without running away. [Olivia Carli]

If you’d like to watch a video version of this journal, it’s available on my Facebook page, or on YouTube.

Well, I don’t know how to say this, so I will just go ahead and rip off the band-aid…I made a mistake. A huge one.

Here it is: as you know, I brought a puppy into our home last November 1^st, coincidentally the day Rob almost lost a finger in a saw. So our little black and white bundle of rambunctious sweetness came into a shaky place: separate rooms at night for Rob and me while he dealt with his pain and I settled in with Rosie. Not the best start.

Then our work lives ramped up exponentially. I told you about this new third project that I’m working hard to get ready, while also doing 2 podcasts plus virtual emceeing and keynote speeches. But we worked around it; for instance, a friend came in and slept over so she could handle Rosie overnight and in the morning when I was broadcasting live on camera for 5 hours for a convention.

Although Rosie always wanted to be with me, snuffling or barking in the recording studio or jumping up to move my laptop during Zoom calls, we worked to make it work: extra food puzzles and fresh toys for each occasion, lots of walks (hopefully) to wear her out, and so on. We tried everything to keep it all in balance – a happy, healthy pup and happy, healthy work and family lives.

Rob didn’t want another dog to raise after Molly left us in September, but while he was resistant, I was persistent. In “encouraging my own fulfillment” in those wedding vows, Rob relented. I promised this was to be MY dog. I would take on the early mornings, the busy days and all of the obligations that come with the joy.

Then two accidents laid me up – I’m almost walking normally but not quite, and face some therapy going forward – and caring for Rosie fell almost entirely into Rob’s computer-laden lap. He and I are usually so in sync that it was really hard emotionally to take: he was exasperated, I felt guilty and there was a rift between us that’s not only rare but extremely strange.

And so, we – I – made a very tough call that we would have to find Rosie a happy new home – one where she’ll have all the attention and walks she needs and wants. She and I grew very attached and this has been hard – trust me, there have been tears – but I know it’s for the best for her, for me, for Rob and even our extended family, of whom we will be seeing a lot more.

Rosie’s new mom is a young retiree who lost her own little elderly fur baby in December. She’s dealt with scammers and dead ends in finding a pup, until us. She lives alone and through interviews and a socially-distanced meeting, we established that Rosie will have a good and loving home, all of the attention she deserves and plenty of much-needed exercise. And so yesterday we said good-bye to Rosie Doodles.

I know I made some big mistakes. One was plowing ahead with looking at puppies online until 2 am when Rob was asleep and couldn’t beg me not to. Another was just expecting that she’d fit into our lives, even as they got unexpectedly more complicated. None of this was fair to her. But it will be. She and her new mom will make each other very happy for years to come. We’ve given away every treat, jacket, leash and toy that we’ve collected over the past 20+ years of having a dog in our homes, and closed that chapter in our lives.

I know some people will judge me but no one can say anything I haven’t already beaten myself up with, so there’s that. I tried to fill that hole in our heart left with Molly’s passing and I did it all wrong. And I am truly sorry. I messed up in my grief – and guess what? If I know me, it won’t be the last time.

I’ll be back with you here on Thursday.

Just a thought… Alone we can accomplish many great things. Together we can change the world. [Estafania Gualalupe Estrada]

As usual, if you’d like to watch a video version of this journal, you can do so on my Facebook page or here on YouTube.

This weekend – Saturday as a matter of fact – Rob and I will mark an anniversary quietly and at home. It’s our 33rd wedding anniversary and apparently the gift is amethyst. I don’t need any gems – I married one.

On our anniversary, we recite our wedding vows. We memorized them from a booklet offered to us by the couple who married us, a Baptist minister and his Mennonite minister wife, and we have somehow managed, I guess by repeating them, to remember those words all of these years later.

But one line comes up most often in our days together: “I encourage your own fulfillment as an individual through all the changes in our lives.”

That’s been a big thread – besides the humour, which was evident when we laughed through our vows – that has held this marriage together.

When it became apparent that my career was rising higher and faster than Rob’s, he made a big step to move away from producing morning radio, and raise our daughter while I was at work. At the time, Mr. Mom was still a popular cultural movie touchstone and he heard that title a lot. He also was chided, to his face and behind his back, by people who thought that, as the husband, he would WANT to be working outside the home. As though there could be any job – even one that paid less than could cover child care – that could be better than parenting.

He turned out to be a wonderful dad and he’s an amazing grandfather. Just as I knew he would be. We’re still pinching ourselves that our daughter gave us such a beautiful, wonderful, wise and funny child, and that he’s in our lives now on such a regular basis. Out of the ashes, you could say, has grown an immense reason for joy once again.

After I left radio in 2016, I was approached to write the book I did,  Mourning Has Broken: Love, Loss and Reclaiming Joy for HarperCollins, a book about my grief in the public eye, which of course was the result of the death of our own child the previous year. This was one of the few times in our marriage that Rob and I differed on how to respond: he wasn’t sure it would be healthy for me to delve into those darkest days, while I saw it as not only about Lauren’s death, but about all of our lives, and the path through this devastating loss we had suffered.

Despite his misgivings, Rob supported me as I wrote the book – helping to fill in details, to navigate legalities and to offer editing and writing ideas on the days I drew blanks. He also led me off to bed when a day of pouring out my heart into my laptop was followed by an evening of pouring out wine into a glass. He’s been through a lot. We have – together.

Today, as we are just over one month away from Lauren’s 30th birthday, he continues to grieve quietly in a way that is different from the way that I do. I see purpose in it all and it drives me forward. On the rare days when I wonder what I’m doing any of this for, I remember that I wrote a book about reclaiming joy, so I’d better get busy reclaiming it again, dammit. It fuels me in methods that I don’t even understand. And of course, then there’s her son – his sister and family – and the ways that Lauren continues to give us life.

I cannot imagine our 33 years without our daughter, even though the pain of losing of her was enough to break up our marriage (as losing a child often does for couples) or even mean the end of our lives – together, or alone. But here we are…and it’s been amazing.

Thank you, Robbie. Happy Anniversary. Thanks for taking such good and patient care of me when I’ve been hopping along and even after I fell down four stairs last night (sober!) on my way to shoot my video journal. My legs are now a matching pair of colourful bruises – from black and blue to purple and green, I’m looking like a human Mood Ring these days. It’s been one heck of a month but you’ve been there every step of the way. Even the ones I’ve missed.

Have a gentle weekend and I’ll be back with another vlog on Monday – if I don’t stumble into a wood chipper or something. 

Just a thought… You’re entitled to your own opinions, but not your own facts. [Daniel Patrick Moynihan]

As usual, you can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page or here on YouTube.

I hope that you had a restful long weekend. They say that a change is as good as a rest, and for many of us, change is just not an option. So we rest. We choose our clothes for the day based not on what fits or what looks good, but what’s comfortable and whether or not there will be Zoom calls or vlogs.

For some, of course, it’s business as unusual – the incredible people: health care workers, teachers, cops, drivers, mail carriers, people who keep us in bread and milk – who are going out into the world and working, trying to make life as normal as it can be at a time when two masks are being recommended as more strains of the coronavirus make it to our shores.

Wearing two masks? Not a problem. I will do anything it takes to help make the people around me safe – especially the more vulnerable – while we wait for vaccines to become available.

What I don’t get (and this is opinion) is opening up when we should be locking down. The science is here; the predictions for a third, even more deadly wave are too. And we seem to be heading towards it like a runaway train.

I understand human nature, the importance of a recovering economy and especially getting people back to work. I get that. But I don’t argue with science and I especially don’t listen to people who come up with insane theories about the vaccine or even the importance of wearing a mask.

Honestly – a year into this chaos – there are people who are refusing to wear even one mask over their face holes. Because they are selfish and, uh-oh, here’s a Colin swear word: “stupid.” How stupid? Have you heard the one making the rounds that because a fart makes it through their pants to my nose, a mask won’t keep viruses from spreading person to person?

If you haven’t heard this argument, well, lucky you. Because I’ve been thinking about it way too much. So, with the help of Snopes, please allow me to demonstrate the difference between how gas and a virus spread. Here’s the Snopes piece, by the way, for actual pictures of petri dishes and so on. 

Let me boil it down for you. For starters, people breathe far more often than they fart. On average, a person takes about 20,000 breaths per day. Conversely, the average person farts between 5 and 15 times per day. Here’s a tip: if you find yourself passing gas as often as you breathe, first of all – this could explain a very lonely Valentine’s Day – and secondly, see a doctor. Like right now. Don’t wait to read how this ends.

If these were equally viable methods of COVID-19 transmission (which they are not, but we’ll address that later), it’s clear why health officials would focus more on getting the public to wear masks instead of pants. Clothing, of course, is already widely used – legally required in fact – in most public spaces. So there’s that. No pants, no shoes, no service. No kidding.

It should also be noted that masks, like pants, prevent droplet transmission. Gosh, I hope so.

But how do we know this for sure? I was afraid you’d ask, but without getting into too much detail, there’s this guy who’s dubbed the Bill Nye the Science Guy of Australia who actually measured the wind of farts – so much less interesting a book, I’m sure, than the Winds of War, although if you’ve ever been subjected to a Dutch Oven (look it up), you’ll know that it can LEAD to war. But anyway, this Dr. Karl (how proud his mom must be!) determined through actual science and testing by the light of a full moon, believe it or not, that wearing pants – just like wearing a mask – can lessen droplet transmission.

There WAS a story going around that the virus could be transmitted through fecal matter. That was debunked and deemed unlikely. No surprise.

In the same way, a mask can prevent droplet transmission, slow the spread of COVID-19 and, like pants, at the very least, it can lessen the overall grossness factor. 

Look – we’re smart people. I mean you’re here, aren’t you? But sometimes if you come across a tweet or a post somewhere that makes you go, “yeah, what about that?” you need answers. Sure, you can block or delete, and that’s usually my first response. But if you think there’s even an iota, a droplet, of hope that some actual science might get through to a person whose whole life is about “keeping an open mind” then you can share this with them. Or, you know, tell them to replace the tin foil hat on their heads with a pair of underwear.

It can’t hurt and unlike their profile picture, it’ll actually show the world who they are.

Just a thought… Removing negativity from your life leaves more room for positivity to grow. [The Good Vibe.com]

A reminder that you can watch a video version of this journal on my Facebook page, or on YouTube.

I had a realization the other night as I was lying in bed, a puppy restlessly making her way around the covers and Rob snoring softly, rhythmically next to me: I feel…lighter.

My scale and FitBit might argue a little: being laid up with the leg thing has curtailed my steps and I’m not counting them for a few weeks, and that’s okay.

But it’s my heart that’s lighter. I realized it’s because something very heavy has been lifted: hate. Anger. The way that I was feeling every day about the unfairness, the injustice, the cruelty and the lies that were coming out of our neighbours to the south. Yes, a lot of those emotions are still being played out – I mean, it’s not suddenly Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood – but the person most responsible, the face of that hatred (at least to me) has virtually disappeared.

And so has my deep seated anger and fear and restlessness and, again, hatred. There are a lot of reasons for feeling all of those things, not the least of which is the Covid countdown to vaccines and worry about my dad’s mental health; he’s using the word “depressed” for the first time in his life, and this is a guy who lost his life partner nine years ago this month.

I know that a lot of people have anxiety over how to make the rent, when they’re going to hold their grandchildren and loved ones again – all of those things that are very real indeed in 2021.

But I’ve let go of the scourge that I allowed in. I don’t blame anyone but myself for the feelings that I’d experienced since the day he first came down that escalator; we are responsible for what we let in and what we let go of. I just noticed the difference, is all.

And do you know what? Since this transition, both inside and outside of me, that space in my heart has blown open and a wave of creativity has washed in. I’m sparking in all of these different directions: a video blog, tons of podcast work – the Elder Wisdom one for its humanity, which I love, and the Canadian Real Estate Association one which is always challenging and enlightening – plus something else I’m working on that is going to see me make a longtime dream come true.

I guess what I’m telling you is that if we clear that space, erase or put a blowtorch to the garbage and the dead wood that is weighing us down, we actually do create room for joy. For insight into how to do something that sparks us – our hearts, our souls, our brains – and we can turn this time of uncertainty and fear into something creative.

You don’t have to write a book; you can just take the time to read one. Do a deep dive into a show that you know will make you happy (and I keep mentioning Apple TV’s Ted Lasso for a reason) or just start that rainy day project (organizing photos, anyone?) that you always said, “One day…one day….”

We have one day. Today. And I wish you a lighter heart and the sight of sparks. Even tiny ones. It can be static electricity. The energy is around us, it’s within us and it’s driving us to find a way to get through this. With joy.