I’ve been packing, slowly, for weeks, and some bins have already left for storage, but today we’re basically clearing this place out so that we can leave for good tomorrow.

The cats know something’s up- they’ve known for a while but are just lately starting to act crazy.(er) Leaving this morning to take the garbage out, fatcat made a run for it into the hall for the first time in months. (don’t worry, I’m taking you to a better place!)

They don’t know yet that they’re supposed to be excited, like I am! Anxious for the change to something new, a place with a front and back door, a choice of decks to sit on, room for gardening. They’ll stay inside but the number of windowsills to perch on will grow exponentially, and the view of birds and children playing in the street will keep them occupied for hours.

It’s about time for a new chapter- I started this blog around the time I started this lease, and have realized truly how much I have changed, grown in (and outgrown) my environment since then. My boyfriend and I together will start something new, 12 paws and four feet marching forward to the next brand new thing!

After we move all these damn rubbermaid bins.

I still feel fat and as long as I am healthy (which, knock on wood, will be a long time) likely will continue to feel that way. It’s strange to be so incredibly self-aware, as if I’m stuck somewhere between an eating disorder and a healthy attitude toward food… Which I say as if I don’t, which I do and it remains precisely the problem- I eat the same crap I did when I was sick, now it just sits on my hips and thighs…

Getting dressed, walking down the street to work, these are like marathons when your body doesn’t feel like yours. I feel awkward in my clothes, stumbling always psychologically at least. And yet, when I have opened up briefly (as I know people who are thin, have been thin, etc rarely have a sympathetic ear!) I have received nothing but positives on my current state.

So what is it in me, in most women I know, that tells us otherwise? Why can I look at a woman twice my size and find no fault, and yet agonize over my own love handles?

I’m going to consciously decide to get over it. I’m going to shop carefully so that my clothes suit my body and my taste, and I’m going to enjoy every moment. After all, there’s always exercise!

At first, I was more than terrified. As I read what and who I was I was worried that nothing had changed. How, in over a year that included a new relationship, moving in, my first niece, a promotion, a new boss… how had I not changed?

But I kept reading. Thought about the home we have built, my boyfriend who I love and support, and truly does the same for me. Thought about the courses I’ve completed, the bad relationships ended, the meetings chaired. And what about my baby-niece’s first bounces, laughter and steps? Have these not changed me in ways beyond explanation?

The answer is yes, but the fundamental truth behind all my problems remains. This is, as a friend recently identified, learning the power of “no”.

So many of us do it- take on more than any one person could reasonably accomplish, either at work, at home, or both. Then, when we realize we are human after all, we beat ourselves up to no end (or complete what we set out to do, and to heck with the ramifications).

I still get sick, get crazyanxious, but I have realized who is to blame. All the while I hid behind my anxiety, but the trick is that I am the only one who can manage it. And it will only take two letters to do so.

My boyfriend is the most patient man in the world. I do not give him enough credit, for sure, because I have been lost in the belief that I was right. In this state, I was convinced that no matter what work or family required, I should drop everything. This resulted in letting a lot of people down, mostly he who is most important to me- especially when I have to travel frequently for work, I can understand a man who wants me to be home when I’m home!

Finally, he expressed his frustration, and his hurt. I shouldn’t have let it get to that point, but maybe it needed to. As always with him he treated it like any other conversation, and although I admit the blame he did not blame me: he, too, reminded me of the power of “no”. The power of (gasp) shutting down the email or the phone, delegating to others the tasks I do not need to do, and even within my family redistributing chores or bighugefavours as much as possible.

I’m not saying I’ll be able to change overnight, but at least I have my motivation- I have built a life I love, and the small pieces that are causing trouble are likely easy  fix once I put my mind to it. After all, they say children learn to talk by saying “no” – maybe it’s time to bring it back to basics.

I remember having a sense as a child, as probably most of us do, that things in life got easier as you got older. I felt like mom and dad had so little to worry about, as long as we stayed healthy and out of trouble. It has therefore been a daily wall to climb as I have realized over time that not just some days but every day requires effort, and as we get older this only gets more true.

My choice of words is on purpose- I find a lot of effort to be required, but am acutely aware of the payoff. I take great pride in knowing I not only can but will put in the work required to make things happen, but get tired often enough as a result.

To work effectively, I have to travel, run meetings, make presentations- things on my best days I’d rather avoid, but the people, the topics and the projects are my passion. Some would kill for the travel and do any job as a result- I spend nights away counting sleeps until I get back home.

Despite working (and working), it seems the money is never enough. At this rate I feel like I should be a millionaire already, but am still inching my way foreward on debt and other stupidity. This causes unnecessary stress on, of course, my relationship: with both of us equally rich we can at least support each other, unfortunately sometimes it is in the depths of despair!

As with everything, though, we push through it- I feel overwhelmed but know it is temporary, and that later when I look back, still working hard but forward a few steps (maybe after a real vacation, a new home) I will not regret a second that I put in today.

When she arrived she was better, even more perfect than imagined. It’s true! It sounds gag-worthy, but I really almost cried when I held her, trying to sooth her own cries. As she has grown – quickly! (I suppose in describing babies you are often restricted to cliches)- she has become the happiest of all creatures. Her smile lights up the room, and is quick to appear whenever a new person enters. She’s curious about everything, open to all people, and absolutely full of laughter.

She has also brought to light my favourite things about my sister, things she hid carefully to live out the good times, the party years. Things that make you practical and intelligent in real life, but maybe more of a downer as a drunk- as I’m not a good drinker to begin with, I prefer people in their more rational state! Spending time with her has been an equal blessing to getting to know her daughter. I feel in some ways we’ve reconnected to the childhood bond – matured and dependent on different things, but there for each other regardless, without question or discussion.

She asked, though, what I would do with my ‘fur babies’ (to borrow a phrase from the insipid tori spelling) when I planned to give my niece a cousin. Apparently it was the feeling of more than one that, should I get pregnant, the cats would go and life would move on.

!!!!!!!!!!

I have suspected for some time a difference in opinion between me and at least some of my family members, that where I find adoption of animals quite similar in responsibility (at least in terms of timeline!) to children others consider it more of a ‘fostering’, taking (an) animal(s) in until it is no longer convenient. My heart hurts at the thought, and I understand people who attempt to take these animals in on their behalf- and have done so myself on two occasions, resulting in my odd bunch of three.

And so, to my dear niece, I love you – I wouldn’t change anything in the world about you. Nor will I change much about me, and I am sure you will love me all the same.

I think it is a response of my body to my anxiety, though (and thus shift all the blame?). I think I get to a point where my mind wakes up my lethargic body and says You know what you have to do today, so get to it! And then of course I add coffee to an already overexcited situation and the rest of my day generally goes downhill from there.

I can’t blame just this- cats seem to keep a regular enough schedule, once established, and they too have become used to this wake up time. They recognize it by joining me in bed, purring loudly, looking for love in the form of ear or belly scratches before a fresh bowl of cat chow.

But these same cats do delay my attempts to clear my mind, like my boyfriend who is forever trying to pull me back go bed, they spend their morning jumping on my lap or between my feet at every opportunity, and they make the work harder but the day more enjoyable.

And so I guess that’s the truth of it all- the sleepy boyfriend, the cuddle-seeking cats really just make the time enjoyable as it passes, even though at times when jobs are interrupted they may seem like obstacles. It’s really me that is the obstacle, and that’s good news- because I can change.

I have started to eat better, actually exercise (beyond walking, imagine that!) and feel better. But there is more to be done- read more, write more, be more honest and emotionally available (as opposed to just vulnerable). And love everyone with the ferocity, the selflessness, with which they love me.

There is no rush, no deadline to do the dishes or make the bed. My main job is to remember that these things in life are simple, and to treat them that way.

But today a good friend- possibly the best anyone could ask for- visited and I was reminded: people move, but they don’t have to move on. Our friendship does not depend, as friendships in earlier years did, on trips to the mall, constant phone calls, and petty arguments.

Our friendship withstands miles, months of silence, because our souls are linked, our hearts the same. Tonight I laughed like I haven’t in weeks, asked questions others would consider bold, and talked like we used to on our front porch as roommates years ago.

We’re different women now, with university degrees and new boyfriends, new places to live and dreams to fulfill. But we’re still the same two girls, bonded like sisters and I am reassured to know I will never be alone for long.

I do not know if my dissatisfaction is as a result of being in the first group, essentially ineffective employees, or the second. It is not an area where you can easily seek out a second opinion, either, as people are not inclined to be honest with others about their flaws. The employers who appraise us would be far less likely to disclose theirs.

However, the fact remains that I am in my second job in a row where- although in quite opposite ways- I feel extremely frustrated not with work as in my organization and my role, but with my employer, the one individual I have to respect and report to on a daily basis.

The first time it occurred, I walked out on a job I otherwise enjoyed because of a boss who did not support her staff, and seemed to always be more worried about herself, and socializing with salesmen, than the efficient operations of the company. I wrote a letter indicating what I thought some of the resolutions could be to our efficiency and staff issues, and the resulting discussion led to my walking off the job.

At this juncture, I really cannot afford to walk away from anything, such is the responsibility of growing up. I still need to, though, to be fair to myself, record the issues I feel need rectifying. It becomes more a matter of getting it off my chest, or trying to understand- and if the issues cannot be rectified, next steps will be chosen.

Like a friend said to me recently – work should not be what makes your heart bleed, or what fills your head when you’re at home. And I know the frustration, the issues that hang over my head do follow me home, where they hang in the room like thunderclouds waiting to burst.

The truth is, when you merge two lives it is harder to keep secrets. It is not that I am interested in keeping particular secrets, just that there are details of our ‘previous lives’ that probably we need not know about each other. And, because I have always used writing to vent about my life and experiences, there is plenty of incriminating documentation in my little apartment.

This is why it is in one part trust, and one part coming to terms with myself. Since our relationship started – and likely at least 6 months previous to it – I have been committing thoughts to electronic paper mostly, and so there is not much relating the emotional struggle I was in at that time. Even that, though, has been open subject matter for discussion, and I feel that though he doesn’t have the whole story he definitely has enough of the pieces.

I suppose what I am trying to say is that I am comfortable now. I know who I am and what I want, and although that hasn’t always been the case I am comfortable with how I got here. There is nothing that I have written that I regret, nothing I have really lived that I would take back. (sure I did some dumb things, but from what I can tell nothing has been life-damaging!)

Also, I trust him, either to not snoop through my belongings or to not be interested. I trust that he knows any questions he would have would always be answered, and so the work of digging through old memories (not to mention the oh-so-coherent rantings of a teenage girl) would be unnecessary at best.

I trust him, too, to treat the house as I would. He will not be overly clean, but will tidy up after himself, take out garbage if necessary, and feed and love the cats. I wonder if they will feel my absence with him there? There have been so many trips where they have been left to their own devices, visited infrequently to have their food dishes refilled.

But he loves them as I love them, and so I can trust that when I am gone the home- and hearts of those in it- are kept safe.