Body Wisdom #6: Hot flashes, shame and sugar

I've been having a hot-flashy bunch of mornings, waking up at 3 or 4 or 5 because I'm TOO HOT.

I'm discovering for myself an interesting correlation between the hormones that make me flushed and feelings of shame.

Shame is a hot emotion for me. It starts with a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach: an uncomfortable, unsettled, roiling feeling that spreads up my chest, arms and face in a blush of heat and colour. Shame-faced, as they say.

For me, hot flashes feel a lot like shame. The only difference is that hot flashes don't start with that feeling in the pit of my stomach.

What's particularly interesting to me is that days when I'm having a lot of hot flashes also seem to be days when I am more likely to do or say something that causes me to feel shame. I've been wondering about how the mechanics of that work. Do the hormones make me more likely to say or do things I could feel ashamed of, or do they make me more likely to feel shame about something that I have said or done?

After much consideration, I think that what's going on here is that my discomfort is acting as a catalyst for my behaviour and the ensuing shame. Hot flashes are uncomfortable. So are many other peri-menopausal symptoms, like depression, down-spiralling self-regard, lack of sleep/fatigue or feeling like you're about to burst into tears for no reason. I also believe that a heightened sense of "not belonging" might be a peri-menopausal symptom, in the same way that it is often an adolescent one.

I think it is a pretty basic instinct to discharge discomfort by pushing it away: sending a harsh email or flippant text, making a mean joke, gossiping – essentially making one's own discomfort be about someone else.

Last week, for instance, I told a joke that seemed funny in my head, but landed with a THUD. And then the other day, I found something slipping out of my mouth that – well, if someone had said something like that to me, I would have felt so angry and judgmental. I realize now that both instances were knee-jerk reactions to feeling like I didn't belong. Both times I felt very ashamed afterward – afraid that I had been insensitive or inappropriate and either hurt somebody's feelings or ticked them off or just simply acted like a real jerk – like someone I don't want to be.

Both times I went and ate a large amount of chocolate afterwards.

And then I felt better. Well, I felt less ashamed. I did feel physically queasy, so it's probably more accurate to say that I felt both better and worse at the same time.

Making the connection between sugar and shame felt enlightening. I suppose since shame is the fear of not belonging/being loved and eating sugar simulates feeling loved and comforted for me, it makes sense that eating sugar would soothe my feelings of shame.

Sugar is a bandaid.

Sometimes, bandaids come in handy. They are great at temporarily protecting an open wound. But what I've been thinking more and more is that the hope of healing those wounds lies in leaning in to my discomfort and doing a better job of owning it.

This is a rocky time for me, and also a beautiful time – a beautiful, rocky time. I feel lucky to be where I am, to have the option of a lot of solitude and quiet and space to be where I'm at. And when I'm in a situation where I feel uncomfortable or like I don't belong, I am encouraging myself to lean into my discomfort, to breathe and to own that I feel how I feel and that that is okay, that I am still safe. And when I don't feel up to doing that, I am giving myself permission to step away – or to burst into tears – or more likely, to step away and then burst into tears.

This is going to be a struggle for me. It will require me to be much more vulnerable that I'm comfortable being. I hope I can accept myself where I'm at and feel compassionate for myself moment to moment. In all of these beautiful, rocky moments.

The shed: Part 3 (A Tiny Home/Land Development Report

It's been a busy week! Saturday and Monday were wrapping and shingling.

By Tuesday, only the back and edges still needed to be shingled:

 

Yesterday, the shed was basically completely finished! There are only a couple of little touches left to be added. One week from nothing to beautiful shed – amazing!

This morning, the electricians came and did most of the work needed to hook up power.

The meter case being installed on the back of the shed

The roof sprouts wires!

My mostly-assembled electrical panel

Of course, there are still quite a few stages to complete.

The electricians will be back tomorrow to complete their work.

The shed will be inspected on Monday.

The power company will come to install the power poles and lines and then hook the shed up with electricty. I've been told to expect that I should have power in two weeks – or less! Super-exciting!

Editorial note: I linked to Tilia Builders in part 2 of this series, but didn't link to them again here and they deserve huge thanks and big shout-outs for their impressively quick, high-quality, extremely beautiful work! 

Also, here are links to Part 2 and Part 1 of this series for anyone who missed them.

The shed: Part 2 (a tiny home/land development report)

The shed is going up in double-quick time! I can't believe how it is springing up right before my eyes!

Tilia Builders have designed and are building the shed for me. Tilia is owned by my friend and neighbour, Liam and his friend Michael. Liam played banjo at my 2012 CD release party for Blackbirds, so we go way back – in relative terms for my life here in NS, anyway. And my friend and neighbour, Dave, is working with Tilia. So Liam and Dave have been here for a couple of days so far. And yet again, I am counting myself lucky to be working with professionals who are not only stellar at their jobs, but who are also fun to chat with during coffee breaks. 

Between our wait for the building permit and the vagaries of the weather in a typical Nova Scotian spring, the first day of construction was Thursday.

The all-important building permit – worth the wait :-)

From the ground up.

Dave braces the first wall

Liam cuts the first rafter

And they get 'er in place. Smile!

Yesterday, I had to be away while work was happening here.

I went off to help clean the soon-to-be home of a dear friend of mine who is moving back to Nova Scotia from away. After that, I did some desk work, finished preparing my taxes, filed them, paid them and then went out for supper with a friend – the last treat of that sort permitted in my budget for a LONG time. But it felt necessary to mark the filing of my taxes.

I came home to this sweet beauty!

Here's a shot from the doorway up through the rafters

And here is Sal rolling in the dirt and sawdust this morning. Mmmm, deliciously gritty!

By the time I got home yesterday evening, Dave and Liam had wrapped up their long day. But I found my amazing friend had stopped by to move some logs that were in the way of the staging for the shed and to re-block my trailer and get it all level. We had just gotten the tiny home into place the day we moved it and did a quick job blocking it. It had a little lean to the right and to the back. Now it is totally level and super-well supported. Just check out these gorgeous hemlock blocks:

I woke up this morning to sunlight through the maple leaves outside the window by my bed and a view of the corner of the new shed. It was sweetly silent, the birds taking a little break from their morning songs. I felt so supremely lucky. I feel surrounded by community support and blessed with solitude when I need it – which is often, these days.

But not much solitude for me today, as I am off to the West Dublin Market for breakfast. And then to not one, but two, concerts with my mom. Lucky, lucky, lucky!

The shed: Part 1 (a tiny home/land development report)

It's been a very busy week since my last update.

The building permit for the shed was approved on Friday.

On Sunday evening/Monday morning, we staked (and then adjusted) the location for the shed.

The location of the 8x10 shed

There were a couple of oak and spruce trees in the area that will be directly covered by the shed, so a little tree transplanting became necessary:

Save me from the shed!

Relocated to a peaceful new home on the forest floor

On Tuesday morning, a fellow came with the pole-digger machine (I hope you are impressed by my grasp of technical construction language). He installed a post at each corner.

Nowhere near as noisy as I thought it might be

The posts look like this. The platform at the top is adjustable to enable the builders to level the floor.

X marks the spot. Put building supplies here.

And they were put!

Construction begins today. We are hoping that the forecast for three days of clear weather will hold.

Meanwhile, all of the limbs/trees that were marked for removal by the NSPower surveyor have been limbed or felled. I've called NSPower, they've updated their work order and at some point (I have no idea when), they will send a crew out to install the power poles.

How does it feel?

It has felt like a pretty overwhelming week for me. I've been having trouble sleeping (partly due to excitement/anxiety and partly due to my peri-menopausal inability to regulate my body temperature), so I'm tired. And with the deadline (for self-employed people) fast approaching, I've been preparing my taxes. Fortunately, for the first time a can remember, I actually have money ready and waiting to pay my taxes (Thanks, YNAB!) but that doesn't make the bill feel much more welcome. I'd rather be able to spend that money on my own home. But: roads-schools-hospitals-social safety net, as I remind myself every year. I like to think that's where my tax dollars are going – and not to military spending, corporate welfare and/or some corrupt fat cat's summer home. But I'm sure it's a little of column A and a little of column B and there isn't anything I can do about that. I'm lucky to have work and I'd rather feel grateful that I'm able to make a contribution to our collective well being, than resentful that I have to hand over all of that money.

On the plus side, I'm enjoying a brief lull in my work. I've only worked 3.5 hours so far this week and that has been a welcome break. I overdid it with work this winter. It is very tempting to do that, since I have all of these big plans that require a lot of money to execute. To be honest with myself, I'm going to overdo it with work this summer, too. And doubtless next winter. And next summer.

So it's been nice that this week has been more about my land – making an enclosure for my compost heap (zipties! pallets!), planting things in my garden (the pea plants are up!), transplanting trees, fixing Salinger's back door entry (zipties! pallets!).

Salinger has also had a mixed week. There have been a few D-O-G-S here, accompanying various folks helping with projects. This has naturally been upsetting and has resulted in Salinger making himself scarce for long periods of time. But he's been coming back at the end of the day, so that's good.

Settling In: Ups and Downs, Hugelkultur and Clotheslines

Salinger and I have been here, in our Wholehearted House in The Crooked Wood, for a little more than a week, but it feels like longer. Partly because a lot has been packed into each day and partly because this place fits us like a favourite, well-worn sweater.

This time has felt very full and rich. With lots of rainy and overcast weather right off the bat, we have been alternately calm and cosy, blue and snoozy, chilly and shivery and brisk and busy.

Infrastructure is definitely a challenge. With no way to charge my computers and plenty of desk work to do, I am forced off the property periodically. It's probably good for me to have a reason to see people, because otherwise I think I would be a total recluse. I am not feeling very social these days.

The other day, as I was trying to do a piece of work, I watched my laptop battery count down: 4%, 3%, 2% (your computer will shut down soon if you don't connect it to a power supply), 1% – as I desperately copied the files I needed off onto a stick and transferred them over to my other laptop, which still had about 50% of its battery remaining.

I'm managing, but I am also trying to figure out an alternate power solution and/or office space. When I lived without electricity two summers ago, I had an external office in a neighbouring home, but this time around, I haven't succeeded in finding a similar situation. Fortunately, my new place is only a 15-minute drive to Bridgewater and I am enjoying the benefits of part-time membership at co3 – a pretty groovy little spot.

The Big Ups

I am actually relaxed. It is quiet and peaceful here. Well, "nature quiet", which is to say that there are tons of song birds in the canopy of trees and plenty of peepers at night.

I feel at home here. I feel like I belong in these woods.

I have been receiving a lot of help from a lot of people.

And, I have very nice neighbours.

The Big Downs

There have been a couple of struggles, for sure. I hit a snag with my building permit for my shed (the shed to which NSPower is going to eventually connect electricity) last week when it was pointed out to me that I had not fulfilled a prerequisite: acquiring permission from the Department of Transportation and Infrastructure Renewal for permission to build a structure within 100 metres of the centre of the road. Fortunately, the DOT was super-awesome, processed the request in 4 days and went out of their way to provide me with a scanned copy that I could quickly send to the municipality (because for some reason, they wouldn't accept photographs of the hardcopy that I took in my car – LOL).

My other big down happened when Salinger took off for almost 24 hours last week, which had me doubled over with worry. I was afraid he had been eaten by coy-wolves or set upon by a gang of savage neighbourhood cats. But he was just off exploring and came back, hungry, uninjured and unrepentant, all in his own good time. I am very grateful to my Facebook community for helping me stay calmer during his absence. Damn, but I'm attached to the little fella.

Hugelkultur

On Friday, a friend for whom I did some design work this past winter came to return the favour by sharing his expertise with me. He is a gardening guru and together we set up my first (and I'm thinking, not my last) hugelkultur raised bed. Hugelkultur is a permaculture technique, involving making mounds out of rotting wood (abundantly available here). We also used seaweed, peat moss, dirt, dead leaves, twigs and a few soil additions like lime, wood ash and rock phosphate.

Hugelkultur: basically a big pile of organic
matter – rotting logs at the bottom, then
twigs, brush with seaweed and dead leaves
to fill in the cracks...

And soil on the top. All of it later mulched
with seaweed.

I'm very excited about my hugelkultur bed! And I also have another raised bed that my sweet folks gave me as a land-warming present last Saturday. So far I have planted blue potatoes (in seaweed), onions, peas, beans and spinach. Now I just have to find more of the seeds I bought last year and never planted...

The Clothesline

I don't know what it is about clotheslines, but to me they feel like home. Home is where you can have a clothesline. I haven't had a clothesline in a long time. Probably 15 years. Apartments often don't have them. By chance, the houses I have rented in have not had them. Stretching freshly washed clothes out over a fire escape is just not the same.

It has been one of my highest wishlist items for my own place. Shortly after moving to The Crooked Wood, I found myself at Gow's Home Hardware buying a pitchfork, some electrical tape, a big, purple, plastic laundry basket and a clothesline kit. And some clothespins.

On Saturday, I did a huge load of wash at the Bridgewater laundromat (When I have a back-log of three+ loads, I like to take them to the BIG MACHINE where the wash can be all done and dusted in 20 minutes). I came home committed to install my clothesline all by myself. And I did! It took me three tries, plagued by blackflies, struggling with the technical aspects of the task – I found it difficult driving in the screw hooks, working over my head, on tip-toes. The clothesline itself got super-tangled right away. (I blame this on being left-handed in a right-handed world. Cables, wires, extension cords – they are all wound up with right-handed people in mind.) Twice I gave up and ran from the bugs. But I kept going back out and by the end of my third foray, I had installed my clothesline. It's a little low (I'm short and don't yet own a ladder) – and I feel fairly certain that some people will snicker at it when they see it – but it runs smoothly and it works! I dried my clothes on it today and they smell amazing. (It has been a long-held aspiration of mine to have sheets that smell as amazing as my mom's and I think I've achieved my goal!)

My beloved clothesline – the quintessence of "Home".

I am not handy. But I hate feeling helpless. I am happy to outsource a lot of tasks, but I also like to know that I can take care of something like this when I want or need to. I feel a sense of accomplishment from doing something that I am not innately good at – something that was difficult and frustrating – and which, now done, will add greatly to the quality of my life. 

Spring cleaning nostalgia

For many years of my life, my Nana opening up her cottage was an important annual event. Whether I was two thousand kilometres away and reading about it in her letters, or at ground zero helping to sweep up dead flies, the opening of the cottage felt like a part of my life.

This year, as I clean up my house which has been shut up for the winter, my thoughts turn to my Nana. I wish that I could still pop down the road for a cup of tea, a hand of cards and a chat. 

How happy she would be to hear that there are no signs of incursions by mice with their dreaded Hanta virus. How I know she would tell the tale of when they were children and there was a bounty on flies - they were given, I believe, a penny for every hundred fly carcasses (really? Did my great-grandparents actually count them?).

I love that I carry these memories and my Nana's presence in my heart. And at the same time, I can't help but wish she were still here in person to share in moments like these.

Here's to you, Nana! Indomitable champion of spring cleaning, fly killer and indefatigable cheerer-onner.

I miss you. 

The epic move

Well, we are here. Salinger and I.

I've just had four very intense days. Thursday was spent packing, Friday moving the house (eeeeeee!), yesterday trying to organize Wholehearted House and Sunday cleaning my winter apartment and moving Salinger.

Salinger is NOT a fan of moving. He hates driving in the car. But after we got to the ferry I think he figured out that we weren't going to see the vet and he seemed to calm down a bit. After an initial prowl around the chaos in our tiny home, he settled in for a long nap on the bed by my feet.

I kicked back, eyes half-closed, bone bone bone tired. Not a lot more got done yesterday before the fading of the light. I had already put in a full day, scrubbing and packing and wrestling Salinger into his carrier.

I don't have electricity to hook up to my little rig. That is next on the agenda, but I will be roughing it for a number of weeks, if not months. Fortunately, the days are long, so I will have plenty of time to work in daylight. And the dark early mornings are good for thinking, resting and working on the computer (as long as I can figure out ways to keep it charged – I'm working on that).

On the downside, the weather forecast is cloudy and rainy for the next FIVE days. Salinger and I seem to have a knack for moving to this house at the beginning of a long stretches of rain. This will make two out of three years. The first year in March, this year in May (if you'd like, you can listen to a song I wrote about that first rainy/snowy/sleety March here). 

But on the upside, at least it's pretty warm (I slept very comfortably last night) and I'm hopeful that the wet weather will make for some calm and quiet days that I can spend organizing the interior of the house and getting some desk work done.

This morning, Salinger is outside checking out our (new-to-him) land. It's raining pretty heavily. I think he is mostly hanging out under the house, mewing at the door periodically to make sure that I am here and will let him in upon request.

Here is the story of the move:

I decided to rent a U-haul to accommodate some of my stuff.
I wasn't sure how much weight we should try to move
inside the house. And also, it was just hard to maneuver in
my house with 100% of the contents inside it. Everything
became a lot easier once a lot of my stuff was stogged into the van.

The evening sky at Pennybrook. There was a fair bit of nostalgia and
melancholy involved in this move. I felt sad to leave both
Pennybrook and my winter accommodations.

I made a rope corral to keep most of the
contents that we moved inside the house from
shifting around and to keep the weight
over the wheels, as helpfully advised
in an email from Wholehearted House's maker, Adam.
My friend Katy, who helped me pack, was interested
in seeing before and after photos to see how much things
 moved when we hauled the house.

I hope the grass will spring back quickly
at Pennybrook in the spot where
my house and deck sat for two years.

I was going to have my house moved by a local towing company (Adam, sadly, has moved out west, so it was not possible for him to move it). I was feeling pretty anxious about it, and the thought of working with strangers was stressing me out even more.

A couple of days before the move was scheduled, I was talking with my friend who's cut down all of the trees on my land and telling him about feeling stressed. And he instantly offered to move my house for me.

"What!" I exclaimed. "You can do that?"

"Of course I can."

I don't know why it had never occurred to me to ask. I knew he had a big truck and mad skillz.

Anyway, he was amazing. Simply stellar. Every curve and bump was managed with aplomb. And, we took our time; he was totally patient with my anxiety and my lack of experience helping to move very large objects up and down narrow driveways. My Pennybrook landmates were also extremely helpful, especially Jude, who provided both practical and moral support on many fronts.

The bottle jack, hoisting the house off her blocks
and back onto her wheels. (We also moved this
mattress abandoned by another temporary Pennybrook
resident down on to the pile awaiting Big Garbage pick-up).

Heading down the driveway at Pennybrook.
Pretty much the same journey in reverse to the
one I described when we moved my house up to Pennybrook,
with the exception that we didn't have to manage
the curve on the lower part of the driveway because
the neighbours kindly gave me permission to
travel out on their straighter driveway – the connection
between the two driveways is normally blocked off
and I didn't know when we moved in that the barrier
is removable!

Backing up the driveway into The Crooked Wood.

The "after" shot for my friend Katy. Not much
moved except for the things I had forgot to put
down as low as possible.

After some preliminary organizing on Saturday.
In a typical case of two steps forward and one
step back, it now looks way worse than this because
of all the things I've added from my winter
apartment. Sigh.

Salinger, king of the chaos around him.

So, we are here, Salinger and I. There are plenty of blankets on the bed. The propane stove works, so there is tea and soup and fried or baked potatoes any time I want them.

I don't have electricity or refrigeration or running water. I feel like I could sleep through most of the next five days, avoiding the rain and recovering from the move and from the huge amounts of work I did this winter.

It is so quiet here. There are only the sounds of the birds and squirrels, the rain and VERY occasional passing cars.

My to-do list is long. Desk work is unrelenting. And I have so many things to do for the continued development of The Crooked Wood. But that's another blog post.

For now, it is enough to sit with the major accomplishment of having gotten this baby moved and settled here in her (hopefully) permanent home.