My Happiness

It is the last day of 2023 and it has me feeling all grateful, nostalgic and shit.

So. Gratitude.

I am married to a font of joy and childlike enthusiasm.  Damon can be heard singing every day.  He could be in the shower or pottering around.  He sings the wrong lyrics to existing tunes or makes up songs that are heavily punctuated with my name: “Dianna, we know she can-a do ANYTHING!  And she’s so pretty and sexy toooooo” is just one example of the many bangers that come wafting from the kitchen or shower as my beloved goes about his day

He’s also got a cute little interpretive dance improvisation situation he busts out while driving or if he’s got his music on while he flits like a wood nymph around the farm.  

He has off days and gets in a huff sometimes, but generally and on average I suspect he might be one of the happiest people walking the planet right now.  

I wish MOST people could be as content as my zesty, tidy, hard-working and super sweet silver fox.  Maybe I even wish everyone could be that happy.  The world would suck less if people were less angry and more inclined to sing and dance and feel free, complete, and blessed.  If humans were generally less power and money hungry and more willing to sing in the shower and stay too long in bed snuggling someone they adore, maybe we’d all be okay, and there wouldn’t be so many angry violent assholes raging around destroying things.

Tangent.  Sorry.  I try not to fixate on the wars and weary world we all collectively continue to damage and destroy… I save those conversations for IRL talks with trusted friends.  I know where I stand on the divisive conversations and situations unfolding around me, and I do not have the strength or inclination to fight those causes on a digital front.  But writing this is a reminder we are overdue a contribution to one or more of the trusted relief agencies we support.

Tangent over.  Back to my train of thought about Damon.

Nostalgia.

When we first started dating he was not the happiest or most childlike person you’d happen upon.  He was more like a kicked puppy than the free styling, shower-singing, dad-joking, happy farming fella his is now. And I was a complete self-loathing hot mess who was convinced that I was far too much for any one human to Love or handle.  I trusted too easily, took far too many stupid risks and had no sense of safety, boundaries or self-worth.  Shortly after we started seeing each other, he was left to sweep the shards of me up off the floor after my second nervous breakdown in as many years.  Thankless, terrifying work for an already exhausted human who had his heart and mind mangled by his own trials, changes and choices.

Nobody (including me) would have bet on us making it out of the gate as a couple. Yet, here we are five years later, building a narrative that is actually evolving into a meaningful little legacy of regeneration, biodiversity, community, kindness, empowerment and plenty of messy mistakes that we get to turn into learning opportunities.

It actually took the entire universe conspiring to keep me from lighting a match and burning our chances to the ground as I was accustomed to doing for so long.  I was not quite convinced of the concept of one true Love forever and Damon was undeniably terrified of what might happen if he made himself available to hot mess me.

So the world shut down and we were locked up on the farm for weeks and weeks.  And it was easy, and it was pleasant and it was wonderful.  There was no way for the outside world to enter our idyllic bubble, and Damon had to drive down to the end of the road and sit isolated in the car all day to continue his duties as CEO at the environmental trust he was managing.  He’d get home and any access to the outside world was again severed and we’d frolic (often naked as the day we were born) in our private little wilderness.  We’d thrash through gorse and pampas and plant perfect little veggie baby seeds and plan improvements on our piece of paradise.  Our only visitors/neighbours were the Kereru, Tui, Waxeyes, Ruru, Piwakawaka, Tuna, Kura and skinks.  

I had no idea how important those weeks offline and immersed in nature would set the tone for one of the most epic tours of self-discovery and complete re-shuffling of goals and priorities.

We are doing our best to parent 7 amazing kids.  We are trying to be kind, fair, clear, inspiring, and generous to our team and contractors.  We have THE most incredible friends and there’s never enough time to catch up with everyone we Love and admire.  Yet, when we do, it is always incredible.  

We still have to navigate an immense amount of stress and BS that is beyond our control.  We (mostly Damon) have some more grueling months or years ahead where we have to deal with people who we do not like or respect and who live in a world of priorities that we find dull, basic and actually quite unpleasant.  But we stand firm in the power we do have and we are consistent and clear on our own vision and strategy.  I am pretty sure the happiness and completely peripheral success we enjoy far FAR away from their world irks them.  Their measures of success is power-hungry patriarchy bullshit we don’t have time to be impressed by EVER.  I’ve never seen that formula work for anyone. The people who play in that sandpit are usually lonely, arrogant, sad and more often than not insufferable to genuine and authentic people. But they can go ahead and fill their expensive designer boots with their posturing and pathetic game playing.  We will be well shed of it all at some point and they’ll never cross our minds or paths again.  Whew.  That’ll be a good fucking day.

So any given day, while mean greedy people are busy doing mean greedy things somewhere that we definitely are not… Damon spends the morning wrapped in my arms for long lazy moments pontificating at length about how precious, smart, kind and beautiful I am to him.  I do not feel beautiful as I have packed on more than a few happy pounds, but with him I feel safe and complete and I do not for a second have any reason to doubt his devotion.  He’s an awe inspiring human inside and out and he’s too fucking good for me in any measurable sense I can think of, but here we are… and for that I am so consistently and overwhelmingly grateful.

I spent years making countless futile attempts to do anything to feel worthy and be Loved.  I was ALWAYS in places and spaces where I was not welcome or appreciated.  Many people were kind and encouraging, but too often they were opportunistic, mean, cruel, dishonest or just awful.  Don’t get me wrong, I was a big part of the problem back then too, as I managed to scare off or freak out good people who meant well by being an inconsistent, self-destructive, impossible fucking mess. But the rub on this and the message I am trying to share is that back then, the people who really ought to have been protecting and respecting me and were the closest to me, were actually putting in effort to disempower, humiliate and destroy me. Not. Great.

So yup, I was looking for purpose in the wrong places, faces and pursuits.  Nothing I did, regardless of the results, was ever good enough for the people closest to me back then, and it probably looked from the sidelines like things were kinda okay.  I’m especially grateful to the handful of people who watched and waited for me to get my shit together and can have a safe and rewarding relationship.  I am way better regulated since hooking up with and marrying my happiness.  

So.  What I wanted to say was:

If you are going through hell, keep going.  Find help and remove yourself from toxic people, places and patterns and start a life that is safe and gentle and may look absolutely NOTHING like the life you have known.  Give away the things that do not serve you and know that you are worthy of honesty, respect, joy, safety and Love.  We all are.  If you’re made to feel you are not, you are in the wrong place and trust me we are better off alone than surrounded by people that destroy our peace or actively derail us.

The person you choose to spend the most time with sets the whole tone for your life.  The things you enjoy doing and the people that feel safe and welcome in the culture that you create and nurture is incredibly influenced by the person you choose as your emergency contact/partner.  

If you are still reading, can I also suggest this year that you try to nurture the friendships and pursuits that are rewarding, good, fun, and on balance make you and those involved better for the effort.  HOWEVER… Do NOT expect or demand perfection from yourself or others.  That’s just not even a thing.  Do have firm and well communicated boundaries and stand firm and fair concerning them as you navigate.  But do not waste what precious time you have being gaslit, ignored, abused or underestimated.  Vibe high and your people will find you.

Reasons and seasons and lifetimes your angels and advocates will find you, and false friends and problematic or opportunistic people will test your boundaries at times too.  Don’t give up on people but make it clear what you will and will not tolerate and when your trust or boundaries are broken let go and get on with your beautiful magical life.  And do it without any hate or bitterness in your heart.  We are all fighting a hard battle.  And we are all at different stages of our journey and evolution.

So that’s my soppy message for the last day of 2023.  If you are going through hell, keep going.  If you are feeling safe and blessed and growing, keep going!  You deserve peace and joy and magic.  

I wish you good health, and more belly laughs than heaving sobs, but enough of every emotion to keep you humble, brave, and connected to the things you Love in the year ahead.

Stuck in the 90’s Again

Stuck in the 90’s Again

I truly Love being back at school.  The penny drops and some readings sink in every once in a while, and for just a moment,  I feel like a fucking academic rockstar.

academic-project

I could spend the rest of my adult life languishing in books and journals and online resources all day.  Words are delicious and reading and writing is a special kind of heaven for a logophile like myself.

Being an adult student pisses all over my undergrad and postgraduate diploma experiences.  I actually want to be there now.  It is the least stressful and in some ways most rewarding part of my life (sorry kids, husband, job and activism) right now.  Probably mostly owing to the fact I know it will all be over by August.  I felt the same giddiness about the first few events I managed when I got back to work, and the first weeks of my youngest children’s lives.  I guess I like variety.

Anyway, what was I on about again?

Ah, yes, so I seriously love being back at school.  I was in the library all day yesterday and today, and I’m up on the all but abandoned 4th floor that smells of books, and ink, and laptop fans and coffee.  This is lucky, as the main floor smells of young people.  You know the smell, like the 7th form common room.  Lynx and sweat and raging hormones.  So much yuck.  Much prefer the musty smell of books to that of millennials.  Nothing wrong with young people, we were all young people at one time or another, I just rather prefer being a feisty middle-aged mother of four.

I have earned my stripes in this life, and have crammed a decade worth of living and adventure into each and every year since striking out on my own (mostly) at the age of 16.

One of the nice things about getting/being older is the reminiscing.  I wouldn’t want to do my teens or twenties over again for all the tea in China (China, CHINA… can’t help myself… Trump memes are like brain worms) but I do like thinking back on my incredibly interesting coming of age.

You’ve heard the saying “youth is wasted on the young” well I think that’s stone cold bullshit.  Youth is not a waste.  It is very important.  Doing dumbass shit and becoming self aware and connected to a bigger purpose than ourselves is a destination only possible through the trials, heartache, laughter, tears, dramatics, awkward sex, fleeting first kisses, epic adventures and learning how to be resilient through all of this shit.

quote-it-s-a-pity-youth-is-wasted-on-the-young-george-bernard-shaw-53-27-79

Youth is best spent in a body that can handle the punishment that comes with making many bad (and some fabulous) decisions.  So, it is not wasted on the young.  It is perfectly suited to them.  And they can fucking HAVE IT!

So today’s soundtrack was exclusively 90’s fare.  I listened to Counting Crows, and Lisa Loeb, and then the COMPLETE Third Eye Blind collection.  I was transported to the University of Calgary and our four bedroom apartment in Castle Hall.  They’ve since torn that whole complex that was built for the 1988 winter olympics down.

castle-hall

Chain smoking, beer for breakfast and working a full time job at a coffee shop on campus called (ever so originally) The Coffee Company.  I Loved that job.  I got another “foreign” student friend a job alongside me there.  We’ve all but lost touch now.  Her name was Sarah and she works as an events manager or something in Queenstown.  I see her shit come up on Facebook or Instagram occasionally, but we’ve taken very different paths and don’t have mutual friends anymore.  I see the other fabulous Australian Jess online a lot, we share a lot of political views so I like reading her status updates and shit.

So this trip down memory lane got me thinking. If I could go back and give skinny, insecure, campus bicycle (just about everyone had a ride) Dee some really solid advice it would include:

  • Listen, like ACTUALLY FUCKING LISTEN to that voice that says “that isn’t a good idea Dianna…” but listen MORE to the voice that says: “HEY!  You should DO THAT!”
  • STOP SMOKING.
  • Give less fucks about what people think, most people whose opinions matter to you today will fall into obscurity (even with social media) and be replaced with people who are smart, kind, caring, quirky, wonderful and treat you with Love and respect.
  • Definitely go out with the sweet short guy you’re going to meet in a few years named Steve, and definitely do tell him that you can’t be bothered dating anyone who doesn’t want kids (together you’ll have four)
  • Love the shit out of everything and do not be ashamed.  Your passion and enthusiasm will take you all over the planet, and it will be amazing.  It does run out though, so use up every morsel while you can before it does.
  • Dance and sing and go on a lot of road trips.
  • The freedom you have right now is something you’ll not think of as a gift until it is replaced with the trappings of being an adult and all the responsibilities contained therein, so be free (and wrap up every single time if you’re feeling randy)
  • Enjoy your own company.  You won’t realize how precious and wonderful being by yourself is until your mid 30’s and you almost NEVER get to be by yourself for any length of time ever.  Seriously.  Even going to the toilet will include an audience when you have four fucking kids, so go sit under a tree somewhere and just fucking be, because you won’t be getting a lot of those moments with a young family in tow.
  • Be confident and humble.  You’ll figure it out…

So, seeing as I do not have a time machine to go back and tell me these things, I will instead hope that my kids benefit from the wisdom bred from my many adventures.  Sprinkle on top of this Phteven’s own vast and varied life experience, and the kids will have a lot to draw on if they ever need advice.

So I am going to leave you with a song that my husband and I listened to on countless road trips and adventures together (before and after we had kids) from one of my top three favourite obscure Canadian bands.  Do yourself a goddamned favour and listen to the whole thing, because it is CRAZY how history repeats and some things do not change, while others totally do.

Here’s “Stuck in the 90’s Again” by my main men from Eastern Canada (who are WELL over 30 now BTW)

MOXY FRUVOUS!

Thank you for reading.

Goodnight.