Originally intended to simply focus on book reviews, over time, KaliDesautelsReads has morphed into its own entity.
I write about issues that are near to my heart, be they political, feminist, motherhood, mental health, or, as the title holds, books.
A thirty-something Canadian woman in my mid-thirties, I have been “super married” to my high school sweetheart since 2006, and together we have two crazy, clever, kind, hilarious, wonderful kids.
My first book – How Not To Blog: Finding Myself, One Post at a Time is available on Amazon (in eBook formats for you clever tech readers, and paperback for those of us who love that new book smell!)
I have tried a podcast – it’s still on Apple and Google Podcasts – but writing is where my heart is.
My life changed dramatically when my husband was diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer in 2018, and I am now a writer for a leading Canadian Cancer Non-Profit.
I am lucky enough to have a family that loves me and pushes me to be my best, even if it is outside of my cushiony comfort zone. I have a village of friends that nourish me, mentally, and spiritually.
Welcome to my thoughts. Sit down. Stay a while. Enjoy a cup of coffee!
Happy Thanksgiving! Today I am thankful for my home, which every single day is becoming more and more the shabby chic home of my dreams!
I need a bigger pot for it, but for as long as I have been a plant parent, I have dreamed of welcoming of Monstera into our family of green babies. And here she is – bringing her majestic tropical beauty into our space ❤️
This space is making me smile – the welcome sign and table made by my talented husband. The books were gifted by my bestie. The bowl was made by a former coworker. The little cup and heart were made by my child.
I am a hypochondriac. I am a malingerer. I am a wuss. I am weak. I am always sick. I am always whining about pain. I can’t cope with life. I have a delicate disposition. I suck at life. I don’t try hard enough. I am lame. I am a worry wart. I am a basket case. I am a complainer. I am always resting. I don’t work hard enough. I am a bad mother. I am a bad wife. I am a bad daughter. I am a bad friend. I am a flake. I am always overthinking things. I make mountains out of molehills. I am difficult. I am an excuse maker. I am mercurial. I am emotional. I am too sensitive. I can’t take a joke.
No one needs to tell me these things. I know them. Or rather I believe them. I sit with these thoughts day in and day out. Sometimes they take up more space than others. Sometimes they take up all of the space.
I am doing my best. I am in pain. My brain hurts. My hair hurts. I can’t lift my head without a searing white hot poker of pain stabbing me through the eye. My joints are aching when still, and creaking unoiled bolts when in motion. My muscles are sore, and I try to remain still because movement causes them to zap me with electric current shocks through my body. My muscles are restless, so I must remain in constant motion, rocking, or cycling my feet, regardless of the shocks that spark with each movement. I need a handful of naproxen to manage the pain, but that will set off a round of bleeding that is difficult to staunch once it starts.
The cure or treatment for one aspect is always the catalyst for another. I choose not to suffer in silence, even if I worry that sharing these thoughts will drag more of my friends and family to believe about me the same things that I believe about myself. I choose not to remain quiet while the tuba player in my brain blasts sour notes at an increasing regularity in the hopes that if one person reads this and feels kinship or sees them self that they will feel less alone. They will know that they are not stigmatized. They will know that they are not the only ones who are not ok.
They will know that there are more of us who recognize themselves in Fannie Lou Hamer’s quote “[I am] sick and tired of being sick and tired.”
I hate housework. Like HATE it hate it. I have never understood when I talk to people who say that cleaning relaxes them. To me that’s like saying “I don’t go to the spa. I find it much more soothing to sit stab myself in the eye with a fork”.
What I do like, though, are pretty, clean, tidy houses. Over the years, I have left my home in such disarray that when you came into the house, you may, or may not have to step over stuff.
Over the past couple of years though, I learned that my son’s ADHD is exacerbated by mess and clutter, and that his home environment was actually causing him severe stress. This prompted me to start cleaning up, but I realized that it didn’t really matter how much I tidied up if I was goi by to keep everything, because the mess would just keep coming back. It had nowhere else to go.
So, over the past 2 years (caregiver leave and COVID) I have spent so much more time at home than I had in years, and started to realize that some of the stuff in my home was just here. There was no particular attachment, it was just here.
So I started purging. I started taking handfuls of Vampire Romance novels that were handed down to me and that I would never read, and putting them in boxes. I cut the amount of silverware and dishes that I had down to enough for my family and visitors. I tore up old towels for cleaning rags. I took my too small clothes and donated them. I pulled out my candles and started to use them. I brought plants into my home to cleanse the air.
And I made myself a deal – the only things that could come into the house were things that were intentional and I knew what they would be used for. Even better – I would look for specific things and only bring those into my home if I found the perfect thing.
I still hate housework, but by having less, it isn’t as overwhelming to do, and it leaves space for building a pumpkin centrepiece for Thanksgiving out of baby pumpkins from my local country market and dried sage from my garden.
It leaves more room for enjoying my home and knowing that it is not causing harm to my son. It has also taught me that I feel so much more relaxed in a tidy home, too.
This is me this week – Pic 1 -dressed up for work and smiling Pic 2 – following a doctor’s appointment
In pic 1, I am feeling great and ready to take on the world. In pic 2, my hair is matted, I’m in my sweats and I am not ready to take on anything at all.
The one that I intended to post to social media? Pic 1. I could say things like how great my job is, how much fun I am having with my clothes, list of the influencers I have started following for fashion and dressing a plus size body, make a joke about taking a mirror selfie next to my sink and toilet, etc.
Pic 2 was me trying to show my friend how badly I was shaking and to understand what was going on. I couldn’t think of anything funny to say and I definitely couldn’t talk about how great I was feeling. I couldn’t even form a coherent thought about NOT feeling great.
But they are both me. They were within days of each other. They summarize how life works – there are ups and there are downs, and my struggle is not biting off more than I can chew on the Up days, and not completely giving up on down days.
The other thing that these pictures show is how life is much better lived through friend and kinship. It’s easier to enjoy the good days and survive the bad days when we have friends to help us and cheer us on, and to whom we can share the same loving, sage advice that they provide us.
This is me – happy, depressed, striving, sinking, panicking, participating, hiding, reaching out, bold, and fearful. And it’s ok – we can be both and neither all at the same time.
“Orange Shirt Day on September 30th opens the door to global conversation on all aspects of Residential Schools. It is an opportunity to create meaningful discussion about the effects of Residential Schools and the legacy they have left behind. A discussion all Canadians can tune into and create bridges with each other for reconciliation. A day for survivors to be reaffirmed that they matter, and so do those that have been affected. Every Child Matters, even if they are an adult, from now on.”
For Orange Shirt Day, inform yourself about residential schools, intergenerational trauma, forced assimilation, Phyllis Webstad’s story, and the state of our current foster care system. There’s so much we need to learn, and the least we can do is listen to the stories and remember the names of those that attended these schools.
This kid’s COVID test came back negative, thank goodness. He has his usual back to school cold/flu.
I feel like it bears noting that he got sick regardless of following the safety guidelines that were mandated to schools for Fall. He wears his mask, he washes his hands, and he is in a classroom as socially distanced as is humanly possible for a school built long before global quarantines were a thing.
If he could get sick WITH regular hand washing, an all day mask, and a classroom that is as socially distanced as possible, imagine how it would be for an immune compromised person. Imagine how a case of COVID could spread in the classroom without any safeguards.
Imagine how much worse it could be if he wasn’t made to wear a mask, and wash his hands, and stay within his own learning group.
Imagine how stressed out the teachers and administrators must be, trying to enforce these rules, while being criticized by parents and the rest of the general public for not doing enough.
We know stress lowers our immunity. We know that germs will happen, but why on earth would we not do whatever we could to lower the likelihood of spreading them?
I know that his cold is just a cold, but I will not be sending him back to school until his symptoms clear up. I will send him back to school with his mask, and hand sanitizer and a reminder to social distance when he is feeling better, because even with just a cold, spreading it means that more kids and teachers run the risk of getting sick with a cold, forcing them and their parents to take time off, to go get tested, to have the anxiety of “is this COVID?”.
So please, out of courtesy to your family, friends, and neighbours, mask up. Sanitize your hands. Stay home when you are feeling sick.
And above all, as the good Dr. Bonnie Henry advises – Be calm. Be kind. Be safe.
I am less than three years away from my 40th birthday. This puts me smack dab in the middle of middle age. I am too young to be old, but much too old to be young.
I am finding myself thinking lately about all the things that I should know or know how to do by this age, but for whatever reason, I seem to have missed the memo. Things that I should have done by now, or at least actively chosen not to do. Things that I see other people have, or have done, or know that it never occurred to me to have, do, or know.
Over the past few years, I have made it my mission January 1st to pick one habit of mine that impinges on my life, and on those that I love, and make it my mission that year to replace it with better habits. A comprehensive list is not long, so I will share it here:
Chronically running late
Over the years, I allowed anxiety to determine when I would leave my house, or get dressed, or whatever, which would often result in me leaving the house at precisely the time I was supposed to be somewhere. This has resulted in many stressful car rides, as I become agitated that I do not drive the USS Enterprise and cannot be instantly teleported to wherever I was supposed to be.
Chronic lateness made me a very unpleasant dinner/party/outing guest, as being on time for me was a minimum 25 minutes after I should have arrived. I was late for birthday parties, dinners, play dates, appointments, weddings, plays… and when I arrived, I would bore and annoy my friends and family further by apologizing and excusing my bad behaviour.
Added to this is a terrible sense of direction, so regardless of how late I was running, I would invariably become lost, exacerbating the lateness further.
Flaking out on everything at the last minute
This one was hard for me, as a person who is chronically ill, mentally crazy, and an anxious basket case. I sometimes find myself having to cancel on things that I was very excited about due to any one of the above getting in my way.
That being said, I was convinced that people were only spending time and making plans with me out of kindness and pity, and overall, they would be much happier to have their time returned to them, and have me cancel, thereby removing the burden.
I learned that the above is not true and that when my friends and family make plans with me, it is overwhelmingly not out of a sense of duty, but that for whatever reason, unfathomable as it may be to me, they actually enjoy my company! I learned that people find it extremely rude when you suddenly cancel and you are not violently ill!
Being available to my friends for their problems, rather than worrying that I was bothering them by checking in.
Keeping all of my opinions to myself for fear of offending people, and simply agreeing with whatever the prevalent opinion at the time seemed to be.
Keeping a tidy house. (Fairly self explanatory…)
Understanding my finances, and reining in my addiction to spending more money than I make every single month on things that I do not need, and will inevitably throw out.
Last year, I extended myself some grace, and chose “Keep Dave Alive” as my goal for 2019. I am happy to report that he is still alive, and further and further from imminent demise. I was lucky enough that my beautiful, wonderful sister-in-law took charge of the finances issue, my beautiful wonderful best friend took charge of the tidying and decluttering of my house, and my beautiful wonderful mom took charge of the kids, and the making sure we didn’t go broke when the EI didn’t kick in.
This is where I come to the conclusion that I have missed the memo on several things:
I should have had a reasonable savings account before my husband was diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer, having worked since I was 16, less stay-at-home mom stints, and Dave worked every year of his life since he was 15 years old;
I should have had a working knowledge of my finances that wouldn’t have required my sister-in-law to make sure that my bills were paid on time and that there was money in my chequing account;
I should have long ago had a tidy, clutter-free organized home that an average person could walk into and not literally walk into piles of things;
I should have had a filing system so that when I knew I would need something, I would be able to pull it out and have it handy;
I should have had a planner/calendar/datebook/ literally anything other than the closest envelop to write important dates like Dave’s chemo appointments on;
I should have gotten over my anxiety of speaking to people on the phone, in person, in new situations;
I should have known what my health insurance and benefits would cover and what they wouldn’t.
Further things that I have noted that I missed the memo on, include, but are not limited to:
Buying furniture –
I still have 99% hand me down furniture, or furniture purchased from people on Facebook. The only furniture that I have ever purchased new are my son’s bed from IKEA, and… I think that is quite literally it. I do have a new table, which my husband built from scratch, and my daughter has a new bed that was a gift from my parents and my grandmother.
Cleaning appliances –
I was aware that fridges and stoves and ovens needed cleaning, but not that dishwashers, washing machines, dryers, vacuum cleaners, etc., needed to be washed!! Turns out, the dirt that they clean off of other things needs to go somewhere…
Cat dental appointments –
A few years ago I learned that my cat had a broken tooth… since then, his teeth are regularly checked, but it never occurred to me to even think about his teeth until then!
Duct cleaning
Furnace filter replacement
Cleaning out that horrible vent in the bathroom ceiling
That windows can come out of the frame to be cleaned –
Additionally, that they need to be returned in the same direction…
That the top of my stove pops open like the hood of a car to clean under the elements
A self-cleaning oven doesn’t actually clean the oven and all the burnt crap on the bottom still needs to be cleaned out
Fruit flies die in apple cider vinegar
People really do rake their campsites when they are done with them
These are not all things that I have learned simply over the last couple of years, but they are things that I feel like I should have known sooner. I was raised by very capable parents, and my mom tried to teach me most of these things, with a well placed “I always find that…” and yet I still seem to have missed the memo.
I forgive my 19 year old self for believing that window dressings came with my homes and that unless you could sew, you were stuck with whatever the contractor had purchased. I even forgive myself for not believing in spies, because, honestly, if spies are doing a good job, I probably shouldn’t know about them.
The stuff that I struggle to forgive myself on, and cause me to feel woefully underprepared for middle age, are things like not knowing if I need snow tires, not being clever enough to save money and take my kids to Disneyland as often as I would have liked. Heck, make that not being clever enough to have saved money in the event that I lost my job, or Dave or I became too sick to work. Both of which actually happened in 2019!!!
The stuff that makes me think that I am not a very good adult are as follows:
My insane desire for approval from everyone and anyone;
My need to please all, regardless of whether they belong in my circle of caring or not;
The fact that I know that I have a cavity in my tooth, but am too anxious about COVID-19 to go get it filled;
The fact that neither of my kids have been to the dentist in over a year;
That I don’t like to force my kids to do their homework, because it stresses me out;
That I don’t force my kids to do their homework or clean their rooms or even speak respectfully to me, even though I know that kids need rules and boundaries, and as their mother it’s my job to set them up for an effective life;
That regardless of how depressed or anxious I feel, the idea of seeing a new therapist paralyzes me and I end up cancelling more first appointments than I attend;
That sometimes even simple criticism sends me into a teary shame spiral;
That I slip off the wagon and fall back into bad patterns more often than I would like –
Binge eating when I should be sleeping;
Not eating/forgetting to eat/starving myself as a form of self flagellation;
Overspending on online shopping and then needing to cancel or send everything back immediately because I do not have the budget to decorate my entire Christmas tree in mid-August with an ornament representing every important moment in my life.
How do other people know what is needed for their taxes? How do other people seem to have money tucked away for a rainy day? How do other people know that they should check their credit scores?
I should mention that none of this comes from a place of jealousy. Not anymore, at least- there was a time when I was jealous of what other people had that I didn’t. I didn’t think it was fair when people had nicer strollers, or houses or clothes than me.
Now I know that it is more than fair – people get out of life what they put into it. Other people have their shit together. Other people have goals and measurable steps to achieve them, and therefore, deserve all the awesome things that their hard work has afforded them. It has nothing to do with fairness.
I am in awe of all these crazy talented people who not only got the memo but have tapped me on the shoulder and said “hey, you should probably read this…”
Because by nearly 40, by fully mid-life, I should probably know and do a lot more than I do. Like, maybe, I don’t know… buy some furniture?
Kali J Desautels 