Author: Krista Osborne

So I suffer from a classic problem, I am a pleaser and a fixer. I have a superhero cape that I keep folded up in my emotional closet. I put on that cape far too often and try to save the day. Usually this comes at great cost to myself.  Because you see, most people don’t want to be saved. The ones that like to be saved are like kryptonite.

The trouble with this way of being in the world is that it is easy for me to get lost in the ever growing list of priorities. The needs of my children, spouse, extended family, my students and my clients often come before mine.  I will fight off other people’s villains without thinking about whether it is what they want or what they need me to be doing. Often I solve people’s problems that they didn’t know they had. If it goes unchecked, I get tired, emotionally spent and then I get angry and resentful.

I have learned this lesson over and over again. I have done my own emotional work to try to resolve it. But if I am stressed, overworked or not taking care of myself, I fall back into the pattern.

You see the issue is mine. No one intends to take advantage. No one is out to treat me badly. The people in my life are just trusting that I am doing what I do best. Either that or they are just busy with their own lives and own issues. The issue is my boundaries.  Sometimes I have to say “No”.

It is not something that comes naturally. I don’t like to feel like I can’t do something. I don’t like to ask for help. Worst of all I don’t like to feel let down. If I do things myself then I don’t have to worry about being disappointed.

I don’t like to say “no” but it is necessary. Lately “no” has been the greatest gift I have given myself. It makes me a better person. The reality is that there is no compassion without boundaries. I recently watched one of my favorite Social Workers, Brene Brown, discuss this topic. Watch the video. She speaks about how you can’t be a truly compassionate person unless you are able to create and reinforce strong boundaries. If your boundaries aren’t strong then inevitably you will become bitter and resentful about what people are taking from you rather than being grateful for what you can give.

Here are a few tips on creating boundaries that have worked for me.

1. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it.  Our instincts are pretty good about these things. If you are agreeing to do something and immediately you feel stressed, or have a physical reaction to the choice perhaps you should rethink if it is worth it.

2. Ask for help. There are always things that we can’t control and have to do. There are things we can’t say “no” to. In these situations, ask for help. Rely on the people that will support you, and help make things easier for you, not people that will make it more complicated. The ones that care for you will make you feel like a priority, not an inconvenience. You just need to have the courage to ask.

3. Don’t feel the need to justify yourself.  Saying “no” doesn’t need to have conditions. It is about prioritizing yourself first. The reality is it is okay to say “No” just because you’ve reached the end of what you are willing to give. Remember that every time you say no to something, you are saying yes to something else. Some people might not like your choice. Some people will push for more. You are not accountable to them. You are accountable to yourself.

4. Let people off the hook. People are not out to get you. They are not likely trying to make things harder on you. Likely they are just living their own life. It is okay for them to have boundaries too. In fact your relationship will be better and more honest if you both have good boundaries.

Here is a small warning: if your boundaries have been a bit flimsy, it will take the people around you a little while to adjust. Be prepared for a bit of push back. That doesn’t mean give in. Just try to be patient and forgiving. The people that matter will help you negotiate any impasses. Good boundaries will help you feel compassion and connected to all of the people in your life.

5. It is also okay to say “Yes.” Having good boundaries isn’t about saying “no” to everything. It is just about reflecting on how it will impact you before you make the choice to say “yes.” It is about making sure “yes” is not your default. If your boundaries are protecting you, then you may find yourself more open to saying “yes.” It will feel good and you will do it freely.

I wish I could say that I have retired my superhero cape. I’m sure it will still come out now and again. For now, I am enjoying the space “no” has created in my life. I am enjoying the compassion and I once again feel connected.

I was 12 years old, I was riding my bike home from one of my best friend’s houses. My mind was wandering. I was thinking about the meaning of it all.  What is the point of life?  As you may guess I was a bit of a dramatic preteen. I recall vividly having the knowledge of how much of my life I was likely to forget. It was a strange realization. I was overwhelmed by how little each individual moment mattered because I was likely to forget it anyway. Instead of being swallowed by the insignificance of this fact, I found it very freeing.

I remember the temperature of the air, the feel of the sun and the slight breeze in my hair as I let go of the handle bars and felt like I could fly. I also remember the complete certainty I had that I was never actually going to remember that moment in time. Those seconds were just for me and only for me.  They were not for some future self. I could do whatever I wanted with that moment. Ironically it is one of the clearest memories I have from my childhood.

There are flashes of moments like this throughout my life. I remember clearly as it was yesterday my husband’s arms around me standing on the floor of a U2 concert at Commonwealth Stadium. Bono was singing “One.” The night was beautiful.  I had just finished my Master’s degree, a feat I never could have imagined I could accomplish. I had two healthy happy young children at home, an adoring partner and I remember thinking: “Hang on to this moment. It doesn’t get better than this.”

It was one of those moments of mid-life. When there was an acknowledgement that at some point things were going to get more complicated. I knew it clear as Bono was singing. At some point life was going to get hard. It just hadn’t yet. So I held on to that moment with all of my senses. The next day we got the call that my husband’s father had had a massive stroke. I’m grateful that life gave me that moment before everything changed.

There are many moments in time that define us: marriages, births, graduations. Some of course are not as joyous such as break ups, divorces, accidents, abuse, deaths, illness. These moments I have found to often be strangely surreal. The good and the hard milestones are so much of what defines who we are but they are often so far removed from our daily experiences.  At least for me, I find that the big moments are rarely a reflection of the real me. The real me is an accumulation of the small moments.  The ones in which I am deeply present. They are the ones in which I pause and pay full attention.

I had another one of these moments of bliss just last week. I was on the swing of the century at Galaxyland during fall break with my family. On that swing my son, and my daughter laughed and smiled. We closed our eyes and flew. The rest of life could wait until we were done.

“Mom! Look how much my hand has grown!”

We were sitting on the bench at Fountain Park pool waiting for my daughter to get dressed after their yearly round of swimming lessons. There is a public art installation of the hand prints of donors that helped contribute to the renovations done over a decade ago.

My son’s hand has grown from Landon’s size to more like a Jacques-size hand. He tells me that he can’t wait for it to be a Gary-sized hand.

We have done this for years. Sometimes it drives me crazy. I want to get home to make supper or I have some other seemingly important thing to do that likely isn’t important at all. Each time we put on our shoes one of them needs to see who they are that day.

My kids are getting older and their emotional lives are more complex. This time my son asked, “How old is Landon now?”

I’m guessing Landon is about 20 or so. It is interesting to think of the years. How is he doing? Does he still live in St. Albert? Where is his family? My son and I talked for quite awhile about Landon. It is amazing the life we made up for him in our heads. Once my daughter dried her hair and joined us, she joined in on the fun. She decided that her hand was more the size of a grown up hand.  You see at 10 she is growing fast and in her opinion is practically an adult.

There has been a lot of talk about public art in my small town in the last few days. There is concern over the cost. There is concern over how it looks, what people like, where it should be. I don’t have the answers to these questions. We as a collective whole need to make these types of decisions.

I do know that my kids like to hug the statue of Lois Hole. They like to pretend that the Bear behind St. Albert Place is eating them. I do know that I like to stare at the mural near the clock tower and contemplate how an artist got those little pictures to look like something different when they are all put together. I also know that others have had the same conversations and thoughts. I am not alone. I am part of something bigger.

I also know that public art is surprising. It makes us talk, laugh complain and connect. It connects us to the past, present and future. I know that these things are critical to our mental health.

Landon, if you are out there, I hope your life is as interesting as my son believes it to be. That said I highly doubt you are an astronaut that has a side job as a cop. Just know that our family is thinking of you. We hope that if you decide to have kids, they also get to compare handprints with the rest of the community.

In the age of Selfies, Facebook updates, Tweets and Instragram it is easy to see how self-absorbed we as a society are becoming. We post pics of our food, tell the world about our workouts and about how we are feeling minute by minute. We as a society beg for that feeling of connection through our computer.

I have had a fair bit of time off the last few months. This has been a stark contrast to the 8 months before. I was teaching, counselling, care-giving, parenting and running around like a frantic chicken. I wasn’t sure which way was up. It took a toll on my physical and mental health. It also took a toll on my relationships. I didn’t spend time with people that are close to me. As a result some people in my life were left feeling unimportant, left out and ignored. I felt like I was just putting out fires rather than actually living my life.

I have taken a lot of time to decompress these last few months. I have been able to get to a few household projects that I’ve ignored for years. I have been able to run, read and visit with friends. I deserved this time. More accurately perhaps is that I needed it. Still I often feel guilty and selfish.

I find that in my practice I am often encouraging people to slow down, and take better care of themselves. I tell them that it is okay to be selfish. I often need to take my own advice. I’m not surprised that is takes my clients a while to hear it. I often ignore it too.

On the other hand I also see the danger of being self-absorbed. If we only ever look to our own needs than we will end up living in a heartless, cold world. A world where my needs and wants outweigh the needs and wants of others. It is a place of disconnection and isolation rather than a place of compassion and empathy.

It is an interesting balancing act. How do we find the line between self-care and self-absorbed? How can I be the best I can be without alienating others?

There are tell tale signs when I am giving too much of myself. I feel disconnected. I use my phone to kill time rather than as a tool to help me in my life. I cannot focus and jump from task to task without ever accomplishing anything. I lose patience. I get frustrated. I feel pressured with the “needs” of others. I get resentful of all the things people want or expect from me. I just don’t feel like myself. It isn’t pretty.

When I am more focused on self-care, I have better boundaries. I am more present to those around me. I am gracious with the people in my life. I am compassionate and understanding. I give of myself more openly. I am more grateful. I have perspective.

To me the answer is in connection. I need to feel connected to people, to the world and to nature. Most of all I need to feel connected with myself. That is what slowing down and being selfish does for me.  It helps me connect.

Ultimately acting more selfishly, makes me less selfish.

A few years back my Dad turned 70. It was a bit of an eyeopener for me. I remember when my grandfather turned 70. He seemed so old. My Dad has never struck me as old. When my Grandpa turned 70 he used to tell me while saying goodbye to us at the airport that he has had a good life. It felt like he was preparing us for the sad reality that we might not see him again. He lived across the country so we only saw him a couple times a year. These words always came with a few tears. They never felt desperate or regretful, the tears were more of an acknowledgement of what we meant to each other. He lived for 23 more years.

So when my Dad turned 70 it felt a bit weird. He has outlived his own father. I’m not sure my Dad expected that was going to happen. He has always been a bit paranoid about his health. In my mind at 70 he magically turned into a senior. It isn’t a transition that I particularly liked, at least not at first. I don’t like the idea that my Dad won’t be around some day.

When I was growing up my Dad in many ways fit the stereotypes. He was a salesman for Kodak which meant he was away for work often. My Mom was left to single parent us a good chunk of the time. She was a stay at home Mom. She sewed and cooked as well as took care of most of the mundane child rearing stuff like picking kids up and dropping them off. She wiped our tears and bandaged our cuts.

My Dad did the “Dad stuff.” He fixed the bikes, mowed the lawn and barbecued the burgers. I have a vivid memory of my Dad trying to explain to me what an off-side was in soccer. He had salt shakers, pens and quarters all over the table positioned in the form of a soccer field trying to help me to get the concept. I also remember one of my favorite childhood games in which my brothers and I would try to wrestle my Dad to the ground to steal his cigarettes from him. Times have changed.

My Dad was also involved with us kids in other ways too. He was a very active Scout Leader. He loved to take us camping. He would drive us for hours on family trips just to get a picture of us in front of something for two minutes and then we would drive back. At least that is what it felt like. My Dad was more Clark Griswald than Mike Brady. He tried hard. His heart was in the right place but sometimes it just didn’t work out the way he planned.

He also is to blame for my feminist nature. He was the only Dad that went to the Girl Guide camp to volunteer. He didn’t think it right that he not be involved with his daughter’s activities. He repeatedly told my grandmother that I didn’t need to be a nurse, that I could also decide to be a doctor. My brother ended up the nurse. I’m not sure which one of my siblings will end up the doctor but I am almost positive one of us will eventually. We are a competitive bunch.

He always reinforced that my gender shouldn’t limit me. So despite growing up in a traditional household, I was encouraged to have a voice and be heard. I’m not sure that they entirely appreciated those traits of mine in my teenage years.

What I like about my Dad getting older is that he is more reflective. He has softened. I think he has spent a great deal of time looking back. He brings stuff up at the strangest times. We were waiting to watch a movie together when he decided to tell me how sad it made him that I chose to walk down the aisle by myself instead of having him walk me. My rationale was that I had already been down the aisle once. I felt like I have always done what is expected of me. I desperately wanted to be my own person. I wanted the day to be about me. Looking back now as a parent, it was selfish. I took something from him that day. I now regret that. I started to tell him how I felt and then the movie started and the moment was gone.

He also is more reflective on his own failings. He talks at times about how he could have done better. We didn’t get along very well when I was a teenager. We at times weren’t very nice to each other. As a parent I understand more now the sacrifices he made to raise us and the toll that those sacrifices can take on a person.

We are closer now. My Dad now just wants to spend time with us, and his grandkids. Yesterday my Dad insisted, despite my active resistance, to have my 6-year-old join him during his Senior Men’s breakfast. They were discussing woodcarving, this is something of which my son is taking an interest. It was quite the sight to see my little man sitting between his grandfathers and 50 other seniors listening to a lecture on knives and sharpening tools. As ill fated as this hobby seems, my Dad’s pride in introducing his grandson to his friends was worth the extra driving and frantic addition to my schedule.

Like most people his age, he has had health scares along the way. Honestly it freaks me out. I don’t want to think about losing him. He however has handled it well. Just like my grandfather did, as he ages he seems less panicked about the possibility of death. He is too busy volunteering, working on odd projects and trying to get permits to build his new deck. He is too busy trying to make amends, say his peace and build up his relationships with those close to him. He is involved in life in a way that I think he hasn’t been before. It is a joy to watch.

So to my Dad, Happy Father’s day.  I like you and love you.

Have you ever sat and contemplated a rock? Last weekend I spent a full hour on the side of a river contemplating one rock in particular.

I know you must be saying “that girl has too much free time on her hands.” Generally I am pretty busy but this last few weeks I have found myself with a bit of down time. For me, like most of you I assume, “down time” means I have a long list of things on my To Do list but all of them are easily put off for the time being. Like really, do I have to clean the pantry today? One more day of putting off paper work isn’t going to kill me. Usually I have a ton of things that have immediate deadlines. But not right now. Now I have some space to be still.

That leads me back to my rock. I have always loved rocks.  I collect them when we go on vacations. I put them in my garden as a way of surrounding myself with the places I have been.

In my early 20s, I went on a trip to Europe after a particularly difficult time in my life. I found myself on a beach in Nice, France holding a rock. I would later call it my grounding stone. It fit perfectly in my palm and was weighted enough to help me feel pulled, only slightly, toward the earth. Its edges were smooth and eventually the colour turned dark grey from the oils in my hand. I held it in my hand during difficult emotional times as a reminder that I was going to be okay. Eventually I found myself holding it less and less. I gave that rock away years later to a teen I was working with whom at the time I suspected needed it more than me. She probably did. Truth be told I regret giving it up. I should have helped her find her own grounding stone rather than giving away mine. That is a lesson that everyone in the helping profession learns the hard way eventually. I’ve never found another rock quite the same.

On the side of the river last weekend I was finally able to grasp my connection to stones. They are solid, ancient and yet still ever changing. Water can smooth their edges over time. I found myself thinking about the animals that stepped on the rock on the way to the river. I thought about how the water has moved the rock down from the mountain in which it was likely formed from bigger hunks of rock.  I thought of how the rock came from the earth and found myself in awe of how this rock was a result of a long chain of events going back to the beginning of time. Generations of people could have passed this rock and yet I may have been the first person to ever slow down enough to notice its significance. Then again maybe not.

I had a colleague tell me that when he is in nature he feels like nature is speaking to him. He describes it in a very real and personal way. I think I get now what he was trying to say. The rock was speaking to me. It was telling me that it is okay to be still.

This is not something I talk about often. I like to keep my work blog about work but it is election time and I find myself with something to say. That is because this time around it isn’t about my family. My husband ran for office first provincially and then municipally. Since 2012 it feels like we have been knocking on doors, juggling childcare and asking for money. This is the first election that we have been able to sit out.

It is strange because I kind of miss the drama. It is like a St. Albert version of the House of Cards, except without the murder, scandal, or Robin Wright. I see the sign wars happening. I see the bantering back and forth during the forums. I miss running all over our city with pamphlets playing the game of find the mailbox. It is easy in the newer neighborhoods but walk around Grandin for a while and you will see that people are pretty creative. I walked through more than one house there that made me feel like Alice in Wonderland looking for the rabbit. One house in Lacombe had a wee door attached to a huge tree that looks like a leprechaun must live there. I was tempted to leave him a pamphlet. After all any informed voter is a good one.

I also found interpreting mailbox signs an interesting game of perspective.  Does “No Junk Mail” mean no political flyers? We have a “No Junk Mail” sign but I would be annoyed if I didn’t get information on the candidates.  Does “No Soliciting” mean that I just shouldn’t knock on the door or does that mean they don’t want the flyer either?  Some signs are crystal clear. One sign in Heritage Lakes made a list: “No Junk Mail, No Soliciting, No Papers, No Religious Groups, No anything of any kind.”  I found it funny that there was a pretty “Welcome” sign over the door. I most definitely did not feel welcome. In fact I was pretty sure there was a troll hiding under the steps.

Volunteering for an election is hard work. You never know if someone is going to be pleasant, encouraging, dismissive, or aggressive. One of the things that I learned while supporting my husband is that politicians aren’t the slimy, money grubbing people that often get portrayed in our culture. In my experience even the people of which I share very little with politically are generally well-meaning, respectful human beings. Of course there are bad apples in every profession.

Being the wife of a politician is difficult at times. People say awful things about your partner. Many of which are blatantly untrue. Internet trolls are especially vicious. The reality is that we signed up for that. We signed up for the part-time paycheque, we signed up for the odd hours and we signed up for the ridicule. We knew it would happen and generally I am okay with it. That said I did get angry when my daughter came home upset because a student told her how the government ruins everything.

We also signed up for the joy of making changes. We signed up for the thrill of taking part and being present. I have lived in this city most of my life and I had no idea some of the things that this community does. If you haven’t gone to see the St. Albert Theatre Troupe do a performance you really should. We were there when the audience was filled with seniors from a seniors residence and I couldn’t decide what I enjoyed more: the play or how the elderly woman we were sitting with cackled every time someone mentioned sex. Also if you haven’t gone to the Art Gallery you are missing out. We have some incredibly talented artists in our community. There is so much more to this city than pot holes, train whistles and financial audits. I am immensely proud of this place.

I have been told several times and in different ways that I should be quiet and not have a political opinion because I am the wife. There is wisdom in this advice. People often think that a spouse’s behavior reflects on the politician. Or that being vocal could get my husband into a predicament with his colleagues. These are likely real dangers but the notion that my opinion should be withheld though strikes me as insanely sexist and dismissive. I am a voter too. Good thing my husband does not expect nor desire for me to shut up.

On the sidelines this election it is easier to see the big picture. I see five candidates in my riding and six in the Spruce Grove riding putting themselves out there. They are working their tails off to give you a choice. Some are nervous and inexperienced, others well polished and comfortable in the spotlight. All are trying their best. You may not agree with them or their political party but I guarantee you that none of them is out there trying to intentionally screw you over.

To the candidates: Thank you for your sacrifices. Our society cannot function without people putting their names and reputations on the line. You are brave. It isn’t easy to put yourself out there. For most of you there will be disappointment. Try not to equate that to who you are. We are lucky that there are people like you in our community.

To the families: Thank you for your sacrifices. You too are no doubt working long days. It is a long four weeks. It is almost over. The reality is that for most of you the defeat will be hard to watch and the sacrifice will be hard to swallow given the results. I assure you it is worth it, regardless of the outcome. Your partners are doing good work. This is a time they will never forget. Be proud of them.

To the rest of us: It isn’t often we get to have our collective say. The candidates are listening or at least should be. Talk, ask questions, get informed and vote. They deserve that much for their efforts.

And for goodness sake, put some clothes on before you answer the door.