Are you OK?

that was my subject line in my email to my friend.

Thing is, how often do we check in with one another, let alone with ourselves?  We’re all so busy going here and there; attending that event, dashing off to another, that we can forget to ask or not notice that a friend seems a bit distracted or down.   We’re on auto-pilot.

But somehow the stress and sense of overwhelm can seep through to our everyday lives, and we can find ourselves on a fast track to being burned out.  Been there, done that, still have the T shirt.  In fact, truth be, I likely should be wearing it right now.  It’s been a hectic fall.

Part of it I think is we take on too much, and then when we realize that we have, we don’t want to let anyone down, so we honour our commitments.  However, there can be an expensive price tag to be paid if we continue despite the warning signs.  Or perhaps we have some difficult decisions and choices to make, as we take our lives in a different direction.  Contrary to the media, I don’t think we can have it all.

I know when I am over-stretched.  I get a tad tetchy, a little impatient and start to take stuff too personally.  

With the holiday season fast approaching, the pressure is on.  Not only do we have to get our usual stuff done, but we have to fit in all the gift buying, wrapping and delivering.  I don’t know who does what in your household, but the buck stops here.  I do the “Santa” bit in our family.

I can just hear you… she needs to chill.  I know but my point is that don’t think I am alone.  In fact, I know I am not.   As women we tend to take it all on and there comes a breaking point, when enough is enough, or we get sick.

So check in with your friends.  Check in with yourself.   How are you doing?  What can you do to slow down?  Is there something you can delegate, forget and leave out this year?  Does everything have to be perfect or can you let some things drop?

Perhaps your business has evolved and become something beyond what you thought.  Is this what you want, and if it isn’t, how can you change it so it fits with where you are at right now?

At the end of the day, it is all about choices.  And often we have more choices than we think.  We don’t have to feel boxed in.  We can choose to opt out rather than opt in.  

So for December, I am taking my chill pill.  I am slowing down the pace and maybe then I will enjoy it all more.  What about you?  Are you OK?

Living in gratitude

October.  The month conjures up pictures of turkey and pumpkin pie, as well as candy and goblins. 

But for some of us, we see pink.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, with the Run for the Cure and other fund raising activities to support breast cancer research, support and education.

I was 39 when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer.  I had two young children and at that time, no known history of the disease in my family. My mother was later diagnosed.

Denial was my coping mechanism.  At times it felt like an out of body experience as I went through the surgery, radiation and chemo.  I chose to carry on working as I wanted my life to be as normal as possible and truth be, I just didn’t want to be sitting at home with time on my hands to think; to think that I might not make it.  

And I definitely didn’t want a pity party.

Some friends couldn’t deal with it, but I decided that had to be their problem, not mine.  Other women, acquaintances really, amazed me with their acts of kindness.   One neighbour, for example, cooked dinners for my family on the days I had chemo. 

It wasn’t all bad either, as it makes you focus on what’s important and I changed from being a couch potato to taking charge of my health and exercising on a regular basis.

But you can imagine my shock when, 15 years later, I discovered the cancer was back.  I had forgotten that once you are a member of the cancer club, your membership never really expires. 

This time the solution was easy. I had a double mastectomy. As I joked with friends, I wanted a level playing field. I chose not to get reconstructive surgery.  Enough is enough.  So we had the big family discussion on whether my prosthesis should come with nipples or not.  Even my son-in-law weighed in on this oneJ

Actually I relied on my sense of humour to get through it all.  Case in point, I wanted to speak out about what was happening to me, so other women would go and get that mammogram they’d been putting off.  So at one of my events, in front of over 60 women, I stood up and shared my story.  “I want to be upfront about what is happening to me.  I want to make a clean breast of it all.”

Those comments brought laughter, mingled with tears as the women took in my news.  But as I said then, and I say now… I wasn’t ready to check out.  It was highly inconvenient as I had lots I wanted to do.  And I still have.

It’s been 25 years now since that first diagnosis.  I’m a success story – a poster girl for breast cancer survivors – or thrivers as we prefer to be known.  I am grateful for every year, month and day I have lived since then.

Farewell my friend...

Much has been written over the past few days about the sudden death of Donna Messer. On April 3^rd, Canada lost a woman who was known across the country as the “Queen of Networking”  and there has been an outpouring of love as people share their stories of how she helped them. 

I only wish Donna could have witnessed how much of an impact she’d had on people’s lives.

I first met Donna over twenty years ago.  She had been speaking at a board of trade event, sharing her story of how she started Orange Crate, a company she successfully ran for ten years and I went to introduce myself after her talk.  We stayed connected, as you do with Donna, and over the years, our paths would frequently cross.

But it was when I was working for government, that I first saw the power of Donna’s networking in action.  At the time I was running a program called Words on Work, where successful women would come into the classroom to share their career paths with female high school students.  Naturally Donna was quick to sign up and when we were at a conference in Stratford, where she was speaking, she “planted” her introduction of me to the audience, helping me recruit more women to my program.

That’s what Donna did.  If she believed in you and what you were doing, she’d go out of her way to make sure you met who you needed to meet.  She was like a walking rolodex with all the people she knew, always making the introductions to help you get ahead.

One of the best connections she made for me was when she introduced me to Jean Price, one of her closest friends, who fast became one of mine.   It is those friendships in life that we hold dear, because no matter how far away you may live, you just know the other person will be there for you.

And Donna was there for so many people – she was always supporting the underdog whether it was the immigrant doctor who was driving a taxi or the new entrepreneur shakily starting her business.

She was outspoken and quick to put you right if, in her opinion, you did something wrong.  I remember being told off when I forgot to bring my business cards to an event she was hosting, you can imagine her horror.J

The last time I saw Donna was on International Women’s Day on March 8 when she was receiving an award.  How fitting.  I am so pleased that she was being honoured for all that she had done to help women get ahead in life. 

Just ten days later, she was given the devastating news of her cancer, news she wanted to keep private and so we respected her wishes.  Today I know people are reeling in shock. Even those of us who knew her dire prognosis, never believed she would be taken from us so soon.

For the past eight years, Donna has been a permanent fixture at my conference.  Always a popular speaker, she attracted many of her fans to come hear her speak.  She was scheduled to speak this year, so it will be strange for her not to be with us on May 26, but I know she will be there in spirit, encouraging us to reach out and support one another.

Farewell my faithful friend

Last week we said goodbye to our trusted family dog – Henry.  He’d been with us for sixteen years which is a long time for a large dog, an English Setter.  I have to admit we’d joked he was past his “sell-by” date.

He actually nearly checked out earlier in his life.  When he was just a puppy he swallowed a corncob he’d stolen from the garbage.  It got stuck in his intestines and led to major surgery.  It was touch and go and we realized that we’d forked out a lot of money, that we could ill-afford at the time, for a dog that might not make it.

But he did, and we actually had a repeat performance of that surgery years on, but then it was twigs and leaves that he’d eaten.  Henry’s love of food, and all that is not edible, was one of his quirky qualities.

When he was a puppy, he ate anything – and I mean anything - from twenty dollar bills, socks to even our marriage certificate.  Nothing was safe if it was within his reach.  I remember having a party and when my back was turned, he was up at the dining table inhaling half a dessert in seconds flat. He had rather a sweet tooth.

And as for his love of chocolate, he defied all wisdom that chocolate was poisonous to dogs, as he was rather partial to it, and given any opportunity would steal it whenever he could.

He was a gentle dog and when Sophie, his younger, adopted sister arrived on the scene, he took it in his stride.  At first he questioned who she was, but ever the gentleman, would give way to her more assertive demands.  They made a great pair, and when we lost Sophie a couple of years ago, he missed her.

Latterly, like any senior, he was a tad forgetful.  You would put him outside and he’d stand, gaze around and you could almost hear the wheels turning as he asked himself “now what am I supposed to do?”  He’d bury his bones and forget where he’d left them and would be digging around the garden, creating big holes as he tried to find them. Just like the hole in our hearts, now he is gone.

We learn so much from our pets -  about caring for another being, about love and affection.  No matter the pain when they are no longer with us, they bring such joy and happy memories.  What more can we ask of man’s best friend?  Go in peace Henry.