Dear Blog Family

Dear Blog Family,

With conflicted feelings whirling around us, we have come to the difficult decision to stop our regular blogging on The Middle Ages. We need you all to know that we did not in any way, shape, or form come to this lightly. In fact, we spent many hours talking back and forth, considering our options.

This is not a sad day for us, except that we will miss your voices, your stories, your support. We in no way regret one single second of this 3-year journey; it has quite literally changed our lives. It has changed us as people, and as writers. And it is as writers that we leave you today and move to other writing projects that have been in our hearts, waiting for their day.

As you can imagine, we have poured so much time into The Middle Ages, and with our personal commitments—especially of late—also taking much time, it has left little for each of us to write our … Great Canadian Novel (or fill in the blank). We find ourselves curious as to what will happen if all the energy that has been directed here over these years now gets directed elsewhere. As we said in the blog the other day, “What. Is. Next?” And we just know the same will be true for you when all the kind and loving energy you amazing readers have directed here goes to the next wonderful thing.

We are very happy to have learned so much from each and every one of you. We have shared joy and deep sorrows, compassion and strength. We have together supported each other in grief, and held each other high on shoulders of celebration. We have joined each other for holidays, and we have gotten to know your serious sides and your silly sides in Five Crazy Things. The one thing that kept blocking us from making this choice was … you. But we know we are all the better for knowing each other, and that each of us has taught and learned at least one great life lesson. 

We would love the next week to be about you, if you want to say goodbye, if you want to connect with each other, and if there are any questions you always wanted to ask, now’s your chance. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, we won’t post anything new, but will answer your comments here. Then we’ll finish up this week with a Blogging Out Loud on Friday. After that, the blog will stay up. We’re leaving it up because, down the line, if we have any big announcements to make or things we want to share with you in a new post, we can (if you want, you can subscribe on the left-hand bar to get any updates). But we also feel the community that has grown here and the stuff we’ve talked about deserves to be here for any of us who might want to revisit conversations (you can easily search in the left-hand bar for key words, and Blogger will find the pertinent stories for you). Colin can also keep you posted of any of our news through Twitter, and we will keep our Twitter feed live (although probably won’t be there a lot for the next while). Just so you know, after two weeks, Blogger won’t take comments without moderation, but since we won’t be moderating, we hate to have you think we’re ignoring you. You can comment if you want, but just so you know, we might not see it (we don’t get updates) or be able to post it for a while.

Please know, beyond everything we’ve said, that we are excited about the future and about moving forward. And we look forward to this next week with all of you.

Thank you so much and with so much love, Deb and Barbara

Change Is Good.

Deb: We grow from change, I think. I should know as the change surrounding me in my life right now is swirling and whirling and sweeping. Yep. Right across the board, I am feeling these changes. Some of them are wonderful, some are sad, and some are bittersweet. But they all have one thing in common. They are forward-moving. They are taking me to a new place. They have me re-examining and re-thinking. They have sparked me and challenged me and opened me up to a world of new ways of looking and interacting with my world and the world at large.

So I think I am about to be creative in a way I never have been before. At what, you might ask? I don’t know. But I am sooooo open and things are coming to me. I think I am bringing it in, drawing it towards me. I am sure that I am about to find some new and exciting things to fill my head and my heart and my time. Not all the changes are what I would have wished for, but they are also changes I cannot control. So my only choice is to find the joy in them and accept the challenge of making things better. My Dad always says, “Damn, I zigged when I should have zagged.” So I’m going to zig and zag and travel down some new roads. I feel some big lovely changes coming for me, but I am happy to wait for them to arrive. Because I am enjoying the anticipation. What’s next, I wonder?

What. Is. Next?

Barbara: As you well know, dear Deb, but as our readers might not, I feel EXACTLY they same way right now. It’s strange, I was always the woman with the script—this was going to happen, then that. If I worked hard and worked toward my goal(s), then that would happen and so would this, this and this. It was very comforting to have a plan. It worked with my character and with my ideas. But this is the first time I’ve ever thrown the script out—and understood that I have to—in order to move into the next phase, whatever that will be. Now, don’t get me wrong, I still have goals and dreams and projects, and I still believe that these are useful and interesting to have, but I’m not dictating in my mind the step-by-step process that (I imagine) will bring them to fruition. Instead, I am going through a process of renewal, one where I am open to anything. Still in the cocoon, mind you, but excited to be here. I, too, wonder what will happen next. Wonder is a glorious thing, isn’t it?

Transformation As Depression

Barbara: I mentioned on Monday that depression has been a big topic of conversation with me lately. It seems many people around me are struggling with it—especially right now. And, yes, I’m sure we can blame the season in some part (certainly in Canada), but I also know that in all the cases I’m familiar with, there has also been a major life shift or change that has precipitated that low-grade, tenacious, and numbing persistence that’s known as “depression”.

I’m going to try not to make any pat, “uplifting” statements today. In fact, as I said to Deb, I’ve learned not to be a cheerleader through someone else’s pain. Not because I don’t deeply yearn to be of help or to shine light, but because I find that we all have to go through what we have to go through. And my shoulder or my reassuring smile—while useful and sweet maybe in the moment—is not going to stop or hold off someone else’s time of (excruciating) change.

Because here’s my theory—and it may sound banal or trite, but the thing is, in order for us to measure the merit of a theory, we kinda need to look at all the evidence and decide if we think it fits, or if we think it’s a load of bull (kindly phrased conflicting opinions are welcome!):

I think depression is the surest sign that we are in a time of transition. In every example I can think of that comes from my own personal experience with depression (and I do mean “depression”, not “clinical depression” or any other medical or chemical imbalance), or that I’ve been privy to through other people’s periods of depression, there has also been a meaningful change going on.

And change, for all its good and wonder and importance, is not easy. Especially if set off by a wracking, heartbreaking personal tragedy: the end of a marriage, the loss of a loved one, the loss of a job, etc. But depression usually sets in after grief or any other major outburst of emotion has had its way with us. I think depression is more the detritus of upheaval. To me, it signals that we have begun to work at accepting something. And that’s exhausting. Because acceptance is work, never mind that we’re also busy now mourning what we know we have to leave behind—which is of course, fundamentally, our “old self”.

How depressing is that? To leave behind that comfy old self we know so well?

The other depressing fact? Change often takes its sweet-ass time to do its thing...

So, what do you think? In your experience, in hindsight, has depression also marked important periods of change for you?

Deb: Since I read this, Barb, I have been searching for the quote one of my FB friends posted today about change and acceptance and I could not find it, but it was brilliant. Basically it said that if we always accept the fact that what is happening to us in the natural order of our lives is what is supposed to happen and as a result we do not fight it, that it will lead to a healthier way of looking at the changes in our lives, however painful. It said that the pain comes from resisting the pain. Does that make sense? I am paraphrasing but it totally resonated with me. Really moved me actually. 

What Makes You Feel Vulnerable?

Barbara: My daughter posted this video to my Facebook the other day and—because it’s 20 minutes long—I kept putting off watching it. If I get something—a link, an email, a private FB message—that I am sure will move me or make me think, I like to hold off viewing/reading it until I have some quiet time to truly focus on it and receive its message, whatever that might be (the downside of this is that my Achilles heal is that if I don’t tend to something as soon as I get it, then I risk forgetting it! Anyway…).

I am going to ask you guys to take some time to watch the video embedded below. In fact, maybe you can also take some time to pass it on. It’s an amazing TedTalk lecture by Brené Brown—a self-labeled “researcher-storyteller” whose background is social study—and she gives incredible food for thought in terms of how we shut ourselves off in order to avoid feelings of sadness, disappointment, loss, and fear. But, she says (and I don’t want this to be a spoiler for you to watching it because it is so worth watching), the main difference between those of us who feel an overall sense of worthiness, who have a strong sense of love and belonging, and those of us who don’t is that the “worthy” ones BELIEVE they are worthy. Only diff.

She goes on to talk about the essential ingredient at the core of this belief—which is that we need to embrace our vulnerability. To put ourselves out there despite possible rejection or dismay. “I love you”, not because I want you to know I love you, not because I hope if I say it you will love me back, but because I love YOU. Simple as that.

Of course, we’re very vulnerable with each other here. We’ve gotten used to telling each other our stories despite what people might say or think. To me this shows that vulnerability-practice “makes perfect”, or at the very least “makes adorably imperfect”. If you’ve read any of our earlier posts, you might remember that at first this concept of honest vulnerability was very hard for Deb and I. We came this close to blogging anonymously, or under pseudonyms, or making up stories to get a laugh or make a point. It took a huge leap of faith for us to put ourselves out there and speak openly and truthfully as ourselves and from the heart to people we didn’t know. If you ever read my very first post, you’ll remember that I talked about how hard it had been for me to really embrace female friendships in my life—because I didn’t know how to be vulnerable … and I didn’t really want to be. It wasn’t until I realized I HAD to be vulnerable (and utterly myself) in order to gain the kinds of friendships I yearned for, that the onus was on ME to take that plunge, that I forced myself to re-jig my approach to people. It was painful, like one of those bone-cracking, flesh-chlurping transformations you see on werewolf movies.

But it was worth every contortion, contusion, and muscle cramp. My vulnerability has made me a better, happier, more at peace person. That said, I will also take Ms. Brown’s advice and embrace my pain and loss and disappointment because these things remind me of my humanity.

So now I want to follow her Twitter-lead and ask her question: what makes you feel vulnerable?

I’ll start by answering: of all the fears that make me feel most vulnerable, it’s in the possibility of being rejected. Over the last several years, I have learned to embrace this vulnerability. Why? Because even if you don’t love me, I still love you. I love loving you. Because even if you don’t like my words, I still want to say them. I love saying them.

Deb: I will start my response by saying that I am in therapy. There. How’s that for vulnerable? But in my vulnerability I am strong enough to know it and use it. I have gone to therapy again recently to help me cope with the conflicting and painful feelings around the changes in our families’ lives. And I go because I am vulnerable and I embrace it and I talk through it. I also happen to have a warm, giving, and extremely bright therapist whom I adore. I look at her as my gift to myself.  I go because I want to expose myself to the possibility of internal peace. I go because I want my life to be the very very best life it can be. I admit that it is not, but I also address the fact that I know it can be.

What makes me vulnerable is not trying to grow. Yet even when I only try to exact growth in myself, I am The Hulk. 

Viral Good

Barbara: This video went viral in exactly six days. How did I find out about it? The darling daughter of my BabyFest friends has been a passionate advocate for all things Africa ever since, well, ever since I can remember. She went to Kenya to teach last summer and came back an even more passionate advocate. Of course, she would be inspired by the Kony 2012 movement!

As she can introduce the film and its phenomenon better than I, here’s what she says:

Brianna: The film gives you most of the information you need regarding Invisible Children and Joseph Kony. What is really inspiring me right now is how viral the video went, and the many possibilities it could unlock. Over 100 of my Facebook friends reposted the video. Student organizations (including the ones I am in charge of) are planning events, and everyone is gearing up to "cover the night" on April 20th. All of a sudden, people really care.

What I am trying to figure out is why now? What does this video present that other organizations have not? I have known about the LRA for quite some time—why are people listening now? Was it because people just didn't know? I have a few ideas including:

- It gives everyday people the chance to catch the bad guy

- They are not asking for money, or asking people to build schools, they're asking for people to make noise. 

- That film puts faces behind stories, and shows the link between the US and Africa.

Regardless, I am just so inspired by how inspired others are getting about this, and I hope people continue to research further. Unfortunately Kony is not unique. Rebel groups are using child soldiers in many other countries including Liberia, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Burundi, and Sudan. Capturing Kony is so important, but I hope this is just the spark that begins to open the world's eyes.

I hope that after watching the film people take action and keep educating themselves and moving forward. Invisible Children has done something truly spectacular and I cannot wait to be a part of what happens next.

KONY 2012 from INVISIBLE CHILDREN on Vimeo.

Barbara: What I believe is this: a) all that stuff ornery people like to spew about young people “not caring” is absolute BS. This is snowballing thanks to caring kids all over the world, b) we can truly gather and gain momentum for good in this new socially connected world like never before, and lastly, c) the primary importance of a campaign like this is not in funding it, but in realizing the force of our collective good—which also carries the power to let those who “do whatever they want with no consequences” realize irrefutably that “we’re watching you” … by the millions.

Halloween Treats

In the spirit of Halloween, a little costume change for The Middle Ages (okay, not really for Halloween, but it’s good timing, so humour us!). We’ve decided we’re going to chat with you every weekday from now on (or try to, bear with us). We thought we’d do our 3-times-a-week dialogue as usual, but on Tuesdays and Thursdays, we’ll share something, maybe a funny or interesting photo or story or video. Maybe we’ll feature our (promised but sadly waylaid) deco tips and recipes here and then move them over to their own pages afterward. Maybe we’ll … okay, we’ll see how it goes. Anyway, we’re going to try and rock the 5-day blog-week!

Tomorrow, out of schedule, Barbara will start a conversation (that might have something to do with minor miracles), but we should hit our new stride soon enough.

In the meantime, we wanted to share this awesome news with you: we got featured in this month’s More Magazine, which is a Canadian-based mag aimed at women over 40!! We had no idea they would do this and so it was a completely unexpected and exciting surprise. Here is a photo of the page.

Oh, and PS, for those of you who’ve been asking, here’s a pic of Colin on set.

We can’t do a Halloween post without scaring you a little, so we’ve posted this video that shocked and provoked hysterical laughter courtesy of our friend, Tannis (okay, she didn’t actually produce it herself, but shared it on Facebook. Still, credit where credit is due.). This is the posted preamble: This is a car advertisement from Great Britain. When they finished filming the ad, the film editor noticed something moving along the side of the car, like a ghostly white mist. They found out that a person had been killed a year earlier in that exact same spot. The ad was never put on TV because of the unexplained ghostly phenomenon. Watch the front end of the car as it clears the trees in the middle of the screen and you'll see the white mist crossing in front of the car then following it along the road.....Spooky! Is it a ghost, or is it simply mist? You decide. If you listen closely to the ad, you'll even hear the cameraman whispering in the background about it near the end of the commercial.

Beware, it’s not for the faint of heart (wink, wink).

So now a question: 1) Do you get a kick out of getting scared? In any way?

Are You Afraid Of Change?

Barbara: First off, happy Labour Day to all of you who get to enjoy today’s holiday. I, for one, will be reveling with my best bud, Deb. The very best kind of “labour”.

But I do have a topic of discussion I want to throw out there for any of you who might want to play …. So here goes. Like the title asks: are you afraid of change?

The reason I’ve been mulling this question is because I’m back home now after an intense week of moving my daughter into her college apartment (she’s not in residence so there were a ton of unexpected chores to the whole “moving in” thing. Like scrubbing corners and hooking up internet and building beds and waiting for subletters to vacate.).

So I’m back home now and finding myself down in the doldrums. She is happy and I am happy for her and I am excited for the next phase of her life and my own, but mourning periods are sometimes both inevitable and necessary. Either way, they still suck.

And as I was wallowing in the doldrums of my exhausted blues, I wondered––as much as I’m looking forward to it––if I’m not just a little afraid of the next phase of my life. Not because I worry about it in any substantial way, but because this life is going to be inherently different. And then I began to think of all the friends I know and acquaintances I’ve spoken with over the years who are clinging to a way of life or an aspect of their lives that they frankly hate because they are more afraid of change. “The devil you know” and all that.

I was curious so I googled “stress list” and found the Holmes and Rahe Stress Scale. Now obviously there are a lot of truly horrible events on this list, like losing a loved one or getting a divorce. But I also want to point out that a lot of the events on here are positive events like “vacation” and “getting married” and “outstanding personal achievement” (?!). And if you look at the top of the chart you’ll see that the 43 events are rated on a scale of “life change units”. So obviously Holmes and Rahe recognized that “change” is the inherent, measurable part of stress.

So if change stresses us out, are we less liable to instigate it––even if it would benefit us enormously––just to, you know, keep the peace???

Deb: Barb this really got me thinking. Really. I was resistant to change all my life. Could oft be heard to say “I will never...” or “I will do it this way forever”. Since I hit my fifties and particularly in the last few years I have come to embrace change, and in some cases to welcome it. Not, as you said of a tragic nature, but change that brings the unexpected, the surprise the “wow, I didn’t know I liked that” kind of change. And, frankly, I adore it. I say, bring it on!!! Adventure, travel, a new experience, I am there. Our boy’s life is changing and growing and given that I am three years into that metamorphosis, I have come to embrace it. I think I started with faking trying to embrace change, and then evolved to embracing change, with reservations and finally SPLAT––CHANGE, Exploring. Discovering. That is what I want for this period of my life. And trust me, these are things I have really wrestled with this week. So they are fresh and some of them hurt. But they are clear. For me, change is growth. Wow, look at me, all growed up. 

Dear Women Fully Clothed

Deb: This salutation must sound odd to those of you who don’t know what Women Fully Clothed means. They are a Canadian sketch troupe and I am one of the five founding members of this group, consisting of the greats Jayne Eastwood, Robin Duke, Kathy Greenwood and Teresa Pavlinek.

Kathy Greenwood, Jayne Eastwood, Deb, Teresa Pavlinek, Robin Duke

I have laughed, cried, screamed, travelled, argued, debated, supported, loved, admired and peed my pants with them over some five years.

Then just over two years ago I left them in one of the most painful decisions I have ever had to make. And it hurt. Cannot even describe the hurt. For all five of us, not just for me.

I will always lament the fact that I left them in the lurch, but the only excuse I can give is that I was fighting for my life. I had to go and I knew, as in the past, that they would transform into cheerleaders and pull me back in. I had tried to leave before and it had always ended with me staying. So I left. Abruptly. Bleeding from my heart.

But we all pulled back and picked up our respective pieces. Me, the pieces of my ego and pride, knowing I would never again perform with them to adoring packed houses, and they, the pieces of their shattered show that we were writing and rehearsing together when I departed.

So I moved forward with sorrow, missing them and fluctuating between relief and pain at my decision. And trust me, the healing took time. After a year they were ready to premiere their new show “Women Fully Clothed: Older and Hotter” without me.

They offered me comps to the premiere, and I set out to go to the show. On the day of the show, after a sleepless night, I realized that I had to be true and honest with myself and admit that I just wasn’t ready. I had healed a great deal but some residual pain still lurked beneath the surface and it took the prospect of seeing them without me as a part of it to realize I still had work to do.

So this is what I did. I wiped my pain slate clean. I replaced my ego with pride for them. I replaced my hurt with joy for them and I replaced resentment with support for them.

And afterwards, whenever I would feel one iota of these feelings, I would let these new words work as a mantra for me. And through it, I achieved peace and contentment.

Now, make no mistake, I have seen them all socially over these two years and it has been great. We were all able to compartmentalize. 

But the wonderful show we shared was still a big hurtle for all of us. They have told me individually how they have missed me and how they think of me every show, and that had made my heart soar.

So this past Friday night, I went with my darling friend Sheila to see them. Heart pounding I sat in my seat and opened the program that did not have anything to do with me at all. Twinge. Stared up at the WFC logo curling its way over the black curtain. Hurt. Then they came on stage to thunderous applause. Pain.

Then I watched them and started to laugh. Inside at first. The laughs were stuck in my throat. Then something took over in me. I was a part of them again.

You see, over the years our friends would say after seeing the show that it would be great if we could each sit in the seats during a show to know what it meant to the audience and to be engulfed in not just the laughter but the resonance the crowd was feeling. Of course we knew we could not be in two places at once, so it never happened.

Till Friday. And there I sat. The Pete Best of Women Fully Clothed!

Sitting in the house watching, laughing and channeling all that love around me into them. I tried to tell them afterward how it felt to be in the audience and how filled I was with the crowd’s adoration, They were so thrilled to hear it. At that moment we were all living through each other. One of us in the house and four of us on stage.

So that’s my parting gift, m’ladies. As I say goodbye with a clear heart, I hope I leave you filled with chocolate and the laughter and love of strangers.

Love, Shitzy xo

Barbara: Dear Deb,

Thanks for sharing this journey of struggle and redemption. It is the ultimate story. It’s what we want to have confirmed for us when we face tough choices, emotional crossroads, or difficult decisions. That we can look back on that moment when we chose to take Path B instead of the original one and not regret it, not shudder at the memory, not find ourselves unable to look those in the eyes who might have been collateral damage, is so reassuring. Never mind that in this happy ending, everyone is hugging it out with chocolate and adorable nicknames.

I’ve had my own fair share of turning point moments. And I’ve learned to realize that if I risk losing myself in the process, then it’s not worth any amount of sacrifice—even if that sacrifice seems geared for the greater good. I think the greater good truly—and only––comes when that brave choice is made. It seems you just have to wait for the smoke to clear. Even if it takes years… In fact, it usually takes years.

Deb, you are brave and dear for sharing. Thank you.