(While I did indeed started writing this in 2015, it is now somehow 2016 20fucking23.  And because the last post was such a snooze fest, I thought all four two 18 of of my readers the bots deserve something lighter.)

This one will be fun.

Yup.  It's 2015 2023.  It's still the blog that won't die.  I suppose if it's still here, I can still write.  And, why not?  Even through the link for the original "Lists to Write Before you Die" is now, itself, dead, I've managed to find an identical version of it elsewhere.  So we continue.

I will do my best to keep things somewhat clean, but considering the relative anonymity of this space, there may be mention of a cock or two.

I think it's important to discuss how I'm defining "pleasure" here.  When I think of pleasure, I think of a physiological response.  That response could be that that jolt of electricity/dopamine in your brain, those bum tingles you get when you're excited about something or someone, or those other.... tingles.  

The 2016 draft had 5 items.  Some of those 5 have remained, some haven't.  Some are pleasures I didn't get to in 2016, and still some others are things I wouldn't have even conceived off 7 years ago.  So, in no particular order:

10.  Water.  Be it a pool, the ocean, the lake, or even a bathtub, I feel most comfortable in water.  Maybe it is the weightlessness, the quietness, or the ease of movement. Who am I kidding.  It's the weightlessness.  I love the sensation of floating.  You can't move quickly in water.  Every movement is, well, fluid.   You can lay on your back, kick your legs, and boom, you've traveled a distance.  Also, water sex.  I can admit, in 2023, that I have only had water sex once, and it did not live up to it's promise.  It was in the ocean, and I spent the next two days worrying if brine shrimp were going to hatch in my vagina. 

9.  Haagen-Dazs Chocolate Peanut Butter Ice Cream.  Right.  Okay.  This one is a little embarrassing.  I occasionally have what I lovingly call "Tub Time", where I shamelessly shamefully eat an entire tub of this ice cream in one sitting, and then usually spend the rest of the evening with diarrhea.  But it's so good.  Spoonful after delicious spoonful, I think to myself: HOW CAN THIS BE THIS GOOD?  IS THIS WHY JESUS DIED.  

8.  The cat/ALL CATS.  Maybe not all cats.  Some cats are jerks that scare me, but I'd say 85% of all cats bring me some degree of pleasure.   Okay, so I said this post would be fun, but I should update you -  since my last post, we lost one of our two cats - the one who I believed I called my best friend in a previous post.  Which she was/is.  Our surviving cat was - not gonna lie - the less favourite cat.  She was a bit more independent, and sort of mean to the other.  Still a great cat, but she was just that.  A cat, not a friend, a buddy, like Sexy was.  Now that Sexy is gone, I have learned to really appreciate her personally for what it is, and she has become must more affectionate, and very cuddly.  It's funny how new things to grow to fill in the space of the things  you've lost.   2023 update:  We lost Sweetie in 2020 (side story: my mask rubbed against my eye and made one of my contacts fall out right in the middle of the euthanasia procedure so I was crying like Popeye the whole time), after an unknown illness (likely cancer).  Squirt is our current cat, and is probably the most perfect cat we ever had.  He brings me pleasure every day, but also deep anxiety for the day when we'll also have to say goodbye.  

7.  My Job:  There are some parts of my job I am exceptionally good at.  I'm a fantastic facilitator, and I can bring people together and form meaningful relationships with people to accomplish a common goal.  When things are going well, I feel powerful.  If not powerful, then at least competent.  And because I'm not sure I'm going to be able to think of 10 things, we're going to round that up to "pleasure". 

6. The Satisfyer:  First off, I found a pretty good deal on an older generation one, but it is the model I have).  If it's still for like $40, go for it (or not, I'm not the boss of you).  I hadn't heard of this until an older girlfriend told me about it (unsolicited).  GOODNESS.  This is an efficient engineering marvel.  It may have made me a bit lazy, but I'm in my 40s now, and I've done more than my fair share of sexual exertion.  

5.  Kissing: We are getting in to the heart of the matter now, aren't we?  I love kissing.  Small pecks, deep kisses, tongues, all kinds.  I've managed to find myself a husband who hates it though.  We have made.. arrangements, but I'll admit I do not experience kissing as much as I would like.  And were it possible to Tinder just to find a kissing partner, I would (yes, I know, I probably could do just that, but I'd prefer to complain).  

6. Eating Out at the Y:  Yes, that is what I mean.  Basically what I said for #5, but for muff diving instead.  All still applies.  

7. Mr. W: Yes, there are some gaps (pun intended), nearly everything else he does do brings me great pleasure!  You'll need to go to my other blog for more details on that.  

8. Exercise.... eventually:  While I am usually on the spectrum of annoyed to pissed off when working out, I do eventually feel the positive effects.  After really struggling with anxiety for too many years, it did eventually click that movement of the body does help the mind.  I do not like that fact, but it is undebatable.  I admit that the effects may not be "pleasure" how I defined it.  It's not a tingle or a zap, but it is a soothing, calming, reassuring effect.  

9.  Hugs:  Hugs are kinda like pizza for me - even the bad ones are sorta okay.  But the good ones are incredible.  You've created a human flesh bubble with another person that contains all your feelings, your affection, compassion, and love.  Hugs are great.  

10.  Lilacs:  Something wholesome to finish us off (teehee).  The smell of lilacs does something to my brain.  They make me so happy.  Last year I got a cut from my mother's bush (snort) and planted it.  It was doing well until my lawn mower lady hit half of it with her mower.  So, that part sucks, but when I do get the rare chance to smell one, I'm in completely bliss.  

Fuck. I always forget I still have this site, and it is the perfect place to write things like I'm about to write.  No one reads this, but I can write it and maybe someone will.  Isn't that why graffiti exists?

I've never really been an anxious person.  Part of my charm was my openness and my 'so what' approach to life.  I once had a boyfriend state that was the primary reason he was attracted to me - as he was a damn chicken with his head cut off for most of his life.  I never understood that.

They say ignorance is bliss, and maybe that was it.  Perhaps I was open and laid back because I just didn't care enough?  Nope, that doesn't sound right at all.

I'm not sure when I started to shift.  I suppose I began to turn in on myself as a protective measure against all the small nicks and cuts of life - aging parents, love and loss, and all the weird petty things we wrap ourselves in.  It was a gradual process that felt like safety, but it's only now that I realize that protection sometimes means isolation - not safety.

While I can't point to one event that altered my approach to life, I can point to one event that made me realize I was not, in fact, in a healthy mental place, and it was this.  This was my hometown and my family's house was in the lock down area.  My aunt, a nurse, was working at the hospital when the lockdown happened.  She spent the night in her car, and spent a night at her recently-divorved ex-husband's house until she was able to return home.  For that first night, we did not know where she was and we could not get a hold of her.  I spent hours obsessively refreshing Twitter.  I would think about my house (which was vacant - my parents were thankfully at their camp when all this happened), the neighbours, and could feel the fear they no doubt were feeling.  I sat at my desk with tears streaming down my face at my office as I watched the live stream of the funeral, listening to that dog howling throughout the ceremony. 

People know how the story ends.  Life went on.  Worked started to amp up, which involved lots of traveling and facilitating.  Two weeks after the event, on my birthday, I was facilitating to a group about trauma.  I began telling them about how when someone experiences a trauma, their view of the world changes.  They now live in a world -

A lump in my throat.

- a world that is no longer safe.

A shallow breath.  I look at the police officer who is participating in my training, perhaps a bit too long.

I continue.  It's likely no one noticed a thing, but that should have been a clue, in hindsight, that I was burying too much, for too long, too close to the surface.

More training, more work.  At this point, I am clearly burned out.  To. A. Crisp.  But I soldier on (as I do).  Meanwhile, I am feeling terrifying sensations in my body.  My left shoulder hurts.  My chest hurts.   I keep feeling these "surges" (as I was then describing them).

maybeit'smyheartitmustbemyheartohgodi'mscared

It was a Friday.  We are facilitating again, this time to the health centre of a local university.  I finish out the day (barely) and go home.  I eat, and sit on the couch, looking at the television.

whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif

I can't really think.  I'm scared.  I go up to my room and lay down, thinking I can nap my way out of this one.  More surges.  More scary thoughts.

I walk down to the kitchen.  I barely have a few words out -

I think there's something wrong 

- before I break down into an ugly cry.  MW (Update: He is still wonderful) holds me, confused.  I tell him my chest is sore and I'm worried there's something wrong with my heart but I don't know what to do.  We sit on the couch, and I go back and forth about whether or not I should go to the hospital.  After much back and forth, I go.

I walk into triage and break down into tears again.  They do my vitals - my pulse and blood pressure were both high - and get me a room fairly quickly (by Canadian ER standards).  They do a series of tests, and we wait around.  They do my vitals again.

Everything is fine.  It's anxiety.

What.

It was anxiety.  You were experiencing a panic attack.  Your pulse and BP are back to normal, which is what we like to see.  Here is some Ativan you can take home with you.

What.

Anxiety.  Panic?  I wasn't hyperventilating.  I wasn't hysterical.  That doesn't seem like anything I've heard about anxiety or panic.  It doesn't make sense.  But what about the chest pain?  The SURGES?

Muscle tension.  Adrenaline.

Oh.

So off I go with my nerve pills like a 50s housewife.  Not going to lie, I was a little embarrassed.  I come from a long line of nurses, and I've learned to not abuse our health care system for trivial things, and while heart concerns aren't trivial, I felt like my brain let me down.

Not wanting to take anxiety for an answer, I visited another GP who ran more tests, all with the same results.  I'm crazy.  More Ativan.  This time with directions "Just don't come asking for more in a week.  These fuckers are addictive."

I took him at his word and resigned myself to dealing with this as though it was anxiety (even if about 30% of me still had my doubts).  I went into counselling, started practicing yin yoga, and began learning how to meditate.  I still had some rough days, but ultimately I was doing okay.  

And so, fast forward a year and a half later.  I still have about 15 of the original 30 Ativan in a neon green pill bottle on my bedside table (as well as 3 in another bottle I keep in my purse for emergencies).   Generally speaking, I feel in control of my anxiety.

Generally speaking.

About a month ago, after an intense period of stress, followed by a lot of negative self talk, followed by some completely anxiety-free days, I started to feel off again.  Physical symptoms resurfaced, but different from before.  A feeling would come and go like I was just about to go down the highest peak of a roller coaster.  And I was terrified again.

I would have intrusive thoughts and pictures pop into my head.  I could see myself clutching at my chest, yelling for MW to call an ambulance.  I'd carry around aspirin because I read somewhere that's what you should take if you're having a heart attack.  I was terrified to move, to walk.  Anywhere.  I would feel panicked even walking to my bus stop.   I felt like the next step would do me in.  I was thankful for a stretch of rainy weather so that I could walk with my large umbrella like a cane.  Suddenly, I was 87. 

I felt like I was in a deep dark hole that no one could see.  I was surviving life, day by day, hour by hour, thankful that I didn't die.  But I was not living.  I felt, in the truest sense of the term - mentally ill.  I was thinking in circles, believing that if I just sat still and brooded over this issue enough, I could think my way out of it. 

Why does my chest hurt.
Maybe it's my heart.
It's muscle tension, girl.  You got big ol' titties.
Yes but WHAT IF.
You've been checked out.  You're fine.
But what if something new developed.  That was a year ago.  Heart disease is in my family.
Fine, then go see a doctor.
I can't because I'm terrified of what they will say. Or worse, they'll think I'm crazy.
Maybe it'll go away.
But what if it doesn't.

And around and around it went.  I kept sinking deeper into the hole, becoming more worn down, more depressed, and more isolated.  Finally, I had a breakdown with a coworker.  (While the pay is terrible, there is some benefit to working with professional counsellors.)   I was so tired.  So frustrated.  So scared.  We talked, and she helped book me an appointment with a great new doctor in town, and I made an appointment to see my counsellor again. 

Now, I'm one counselling session in, and anxiously waiting for the doctor's appointment next week.  I have been trying not to obsess what I will say or ask at that appointment, but of course I do.  Health anxiety is such a difficult thing to navigate.  In our health obsessed world, do you 'honour your body' and demand that hundreds of tests be run because something might be wrong?  Or do you live in the uncertainty of life and accept that sometimes odd physical sensations are normal and that they're nothing to get worked up about?  This is essentially what it all boils down to, and I would not wish that mindfuck on my worst enemy.

And so, in the meantime, I have had a valuable revelation.  I can have health anxiety, but I cannot live in an unhealthy way that only serves to feed my anxieties.  Basically, if it was fun or bad for me, it went into my mouth.  So, enough of that.  Eat a fucking vegetable once in a while.  Cut the caffeine, the booze, the pints of ice cream and bags of chocolate I'd secretly eat after work.  Though I'm not being an asshole about it - occasional indulgences are okay, but for now I am ending each day knowing that I did my best with that day.

Has it erased my anxiety?  Nope, not by a long shot.  But it has increased my confidence - in my sense of affecting positive change on my health.  I could still have a goddamned piano on me tomorrow, but at least I went knowing I was taking care of myself. 

Maybe I'll always have anxiety, and may my body will always do weird things.  Maybe I'll get sick, maybe I will have a fucking heart attack and die someday - my family history says that's not outside the realm of possibility.  Maybe.  All those things may happen in the future, but those things can no longer dictate how I live today. 

1.  My first solo long-distance drive:  This was about two years ago now.  I was in the northern part of the province for a conference and had driven up with a colleague.  She had to stay for another night, and I needed to get back home.  I was extremely nervous, but coped by compulsively referring to Google Street View to look at all the turns, merges, and possible trouble spots.  I likely made the journey, virtually, four or five times.  There was no way I was going to get lost.  I made several mixed CDs, and obsessively checked to see if I had everything I needed.  I set off, nervously.  I was on my way.  Now, the journey home - that is to say, the highway - is full of small villages.  This causes the speed limits to go up  and down like a rollercoaster:  90 to 60 to 70 to 100 to 50.  And being a new driver, there was no way in hell I would chance speeding, even though everyone does.  I pulled over several times throughout the journey to let cars pass me.  On the shoulder of the road, I'd take some deep breaths, flex my white knuckled fingers, and continue on, telling myself that I was doing just fine.  I was slightly concerned that it was taking me so long to get home.  What should have been a 3 hour drive was well over 4 hours with my uber-cautious driving.  The sun was beginning to set, and I was worried that wildlife may start to appear.   I did, however, eventually reach my destination.  After filling the tank and dropping off the rental, I waited for the familiar, comfortable bus, my head pounding, my muscles sore from tension, but fiercely proud that I made it.  

2.  My first trip to SH:  It was just after Christmas (of 2003 - I had to actually consult the blog - and I'm reeling of how long it's been).  It was only weeks after meeting MW, but I had decided to at least visit this little village to see what it was like, and to see if I could find a place to live.  We took the longest route possible, but it was also the most scenic.  I have a clear memory of looking out over the ocean during one of our pit stops and wondering if this was something I could really do.  Could I live alone, isolated and poor, doing work I'd never done before, all the while leaving a rather large piece of my heart back home?  These thoughts cycled through my head the whole way.  Once we arrived in town, everything moved quickly.  I met my soon-to-be new boss and neighbour, found an amazing house, and then I realized that yes, I could do this.  Panic and heartbreak soon set in, but I was so fortunate to have my mother there to support me.  I'm sure at that time she didn't think my relationship with MW would last, but it did.  I have no regrets about my time there, or about leaving.  

3.  Last year's trip to Montreal, or pretty much any voyage by train:  I love traveling by train.  I love traveling by train when I can afford a compartment for myself.  Last year I blew the bank by traveling to Montreal for the weekend to spend some time indulging with a friend.  This trip was a bit of a nail biter as I hadn't reserved the compartment early enough, so I was hoping to luck out on one after I had boarded the train.  After much drama, a room did open up for me, and luckily enough I had the cash on hand to pay for it.   There's nothing like it.  In a private room, you can stretch out, while the country snaps past you.  Often, it's forest, but early in the morning, you can see amazing sights:  The sun rising over mountains, expanses of farm land, swarms of  birds cutting through the sky.  I hope to someday be able to take a cross-country train tour.

4.  The journey I've taken with MW:  So, some big news here that happened while I've been neglecting the blog.  After eight years, MW and I are now engaged.  TO. BE. WED. I'm not going to lie, I have some moments of shock and confusion, but I have no hesitation that this is the man I want to share the rest of my life with.  Though, it has been a journey.  There has been amazing, beautiful, real moments.  And there have been moments of terror and hurt and sadness.   And we are still here, and we are still here for each other. And it's funny, now that we are engaged.  I feel like that  while up to this point we have been on this journey together - swerving, slowing down, speeding up, blasting the music with the windows down, the engagement is just that extra little bit of security.  We are mutually agreeing to fasten our seat belts together, and continue on the journey, knowing that we are safe with each other.  

5.  The journey of being me:  Seeing as how I'm not that well traveled, I thought I'd go existential on this last one.  Do you realize I started this space in 2003?  I would have been 23 when I started this blog, and I'm now 32.  That has been a great journey, I must say.  I like to think I've created someone who is pretty great.  I feel like I have an impact on my world.  I feel loved and valued, and I have support when I feel alone or powerless or angry.  I remember having a conversation with a group of older women just as I was turning 30.  I was full of self reflection and ennui about entering my third decade.  These women, dressed in their ironed pants with sharp creases, and beautiful, real jewelry, all of whom were no less than 40, assured me that your 30s are a great time in your life.  You've developed your identify, you are confident in making your own choices, and you are uncompromising.  Now, two years in, I'm inclined to agree with them.  

I feel like this list will be pretty easy. Also, guys, this is in NO ORDER, so don't go getting all sensitive on me. That is, if any of my friends still read this blog, which may be unlikely.

I feel like this list is going to be difficult. So often during this list-making journey, I've desperately wanted a time machine. I always feel like I'm missing something. I don't want to do my younger self a disservice by forgetting anything that, at the time, felt monumental. But perhaps it's just a fact of life that memories become more and more watered down over time, to the point that they become mere puffs of steam that are barely visible to the 30 year old self.

• My birthday, about four years ago - There wasn't anything special about this day. But it was perfectly pleasant. In reality, it was more of a weekend, than a day, but what I remember most was that it was perfect. The best part? Getting stranded in a canoe on the lake, and being dragged back along the shore - Cleopatra style - by Mr. Wonderful.
• The Day I Got My License - After over 10 years of anxiety and embarrassment, I was finally forced into taking driver training (again) and taking my driving test. I wasn't excited about the new (supposed) sense of freedom, but just that I had accomplished it, and that everyone could finally get off my back.
• Nearly every Christmas with my family, ever - Up until last year, I've spent every Christmas with my family/parents. And each one of those have been special. Sure, some of them didn't live up to expectations, but most of them surpassed them. Two in particular stand out: the year we got a new angel for the tree, and the year our parents gave my sister and I a rather large sum of cash after selling a rental property, through a treasure hunt.
• The Day I Met MW: I was a nervous wreck, and freezing my ass off while waiting for him on a walking bridge. Then I met this tall, big, sort of goofy, but professional man, with an adorable French accent. The evening was fill with lots of booze but real chemistry. I wasn't able to sleep that night because I was so excited.
• (The final day was difficult to come up with.. so I reserve the right to change my mind on this one) Grade Nine Awards Banquet, circa 1994: Every year the school invited the honour students, as well as others, to an awards banquet. Most awards were for highest marks in particular classes, sports awards, and others. I don't remember much about this, except that I had one the "Triple Crown" award, which was essentially the Nice Person award. I also remember my English teacher giving a very nice speech about me, but because I didn't realize the speech was about me, I wasn't listening very intently, so I don't quite remember what was said.

My first thought was "oh, this is going to be easy". And then I only thought of one thing. But after some deep digging, here is what I've come up with:

• My second attempt at painting (as an adult). My first attempt looked like a freshly-shot duck flying through a rainstorm. This, I dare say, turned out a bit better. It's currently hanging in my kitchen.

• Bacon Pig (AKA Kevin Bacon Bacon Pig): So, technically, I didn't MAKE him, but I did come up with the idea, and paint him. He sits on my desk and makes me smile.

I find myself thinking about and drafting these lists when I'm supposed to be preparing a funding proposal for work. If I am out of work next year, I blame you, Internet.

• SH: Although I did "live" there, I consider it more of an extend visit, as I never intended to stay. That's the definition of a visit, right? If you have read this blog circa 2004-2005, you'll know why it was so memorable. It was a weird little village, with as many progressive people as there were absolute nut-jobs. But everything about it was memorable: my cute little house on the river, the hospital where I'd put out condoms every week, the one bank, and the ice floes which contained frozen and dead otter carcasses.

• My maternal grandparents' house: It seems we spent many summers there, but in reality, probably not as many as I think we did. I have vivid memories of many areas of the house, and I often still dream of them. There were the very narrow stairs that led upstairs to the 3 bedrooms. Having 10 children, I don't understand how they lived in that house, but they somehow managed. In the bedroom at the end, the one me and my sister usually slept in, there was a grate from the wood stove. Each night I would peek down through the grate into the kitchen and watch the adults play cards, drink tea, and smoke cigarettes. I remember the rusty bed/swing/hammock type thing that sat on the 'cool' side of the house. My cousins and I would spend house playing around that thing, miraculously never once contracting tetanus. I remember my grandmother's plants and flowers, and the crab apple tree. I remember the circular driveway, with a constant stream of visitors. I remember the small bathroom that always seemed to have pee on the seat. I remember going through the medicine cabinet, marveling at the powder puffs and mason jar of "May Snow Water". I still don't know what it was for. I remember laying on the floor next to my grandmother, listening to the "woosh-thunk, woosh-thunk" of her glider, watching hockey or "Down Home Tonight" on the CBC.
  

• Florida: This was the first time I flew in a plane, and was really the only 'big' trip me and my family made. I was about 12 and my sister was around 16, so was obviously too cool for all of us. But we made many memories. And my sister and I got to ride a giant bee in front of a green screen. I also think I saw Linda Dano at a mini-putt.

• The Lake: My family spent nearly all our summers camping in a small tent-trailer at a lake about an hour and a half away from our house. Each year we'd set up the trailer in the driveway and begin the process of packing everything we'd need for a few weeks. We'd have those plastic plates that had their own compartment, and the tiny boxes of cereal, and all the Kraft Dinner you could eat. We bring our giant barrel for water, a tarp, and our inner tube. And Trivial Pursuit. And for two weeks, we were happy. We never got bored, but even if we did, there were walks up the hill and across the highway to the diner for homemade french fries and ice cream. It's amazing to me that 20 years later, my family has returned to that exact same spot - only with a much nicer trailer and many, many more comforts of home.
  

• The Train: I love travelling by train. I love the gentle rocking, the constant din of tracks passing under your feet, the freedom to move around, and the ability to mingle with other travellers. It seems like trains are the only mode of transportation where people seem much more open to chatting and sharing this experience. The last time I took a train, I splurged and upgraded to a sleeper car. I'm a bit spoiled now, I fear, because having your own little room while you travel is just fantastic. But either way, it's one of my favourite places to be.

• The Waterfowl Park: When I was in university, I'd often visit this park to reflect and to think. I remember a few of these visits quite distinctly.

• The Other Side of the Lake: Technically speaking, it is the same lake, however I'm talking about a different spot on the same lake. This was a recent visit - last summer - but we have a retreat for work there and it was a perfect weekend. The weather was absolutely amazing, the beach was sandy, and the company was fun. I created a lot of memories at that place, and I hope to return.

• My Mother's Arms: Aww, I know, right? I guess I'm just a big baby, but damn, my mom gives the best hugs. Even if she is annoying the snot out of me, there's always at least a piece of me who always needs a hug from Mom.
  

• The Internet: So, maybe this one is a bit abstract, but I think that in 2011, we can define the Internet as a 'place', and I 'visit' it very often. I have been plugged in since I was about 15, so I have many, many memories that occurred in a virtual space. Some of them are good, some of them are just awful. Most of them were just very awkward.
  

• MW's Stomach: I enjoy watching TV with MW, with my head resting on the side of his stomach. I press my ear against it and listen to the glurbles as we watch Say Yes To The Dress. It's a comfortable place where I feel most at peace.