A Valentine’s Day Surprise!

February 14, 2013

I had the loveliest surprise on Valentine’s Day!  N popped by.  I had made him chocolates, but I didn’t know when I would get them to him due to the nature of our circumstances.  But sure enough, his familiar knock echoed through my living room in the evening and there he was!  He came in for tea and I could tell he was pleasantly pleased with the candy.  We dove into another one of our fantastic conversations and entertained ourselves accordingly for quite some time.  Then, out of the blue he announced that he wanted to treat me to a new haircut and a colour!  I was totally taken aback, as he had never given me a gift before.  What a lovely gesture!  And so unexpected.  My next thought was that my hair must look pretty darn dreadful for him to warrant such an offer!  Hah!  When I asked him what his motivation was for making such a suggestion, he simply said he had noticed how hard I have been working on putting my life back in order, and he wanted to honour my efforts.

At that moment I don’t think I knew what to think or feel!  My eyes welled up with tears of happiness because I was touched by his kindness, but I was embarrassed as well that I should be in a position where I NEEDED to gather the shards of my existence together and put them in some semblance of order to resemble “normal life.”  I could feel my face begin to redden in anger that he would assume I would need such a gift because I was unable to provide for myself in this matter.  But I also felt sadness because a simple gift exchange such as this was an occurrence that rarely happened in my life because I no longer had many friends.  Anorexia had ruthlessly taken care of that years ago.  Then the sad feeling was chased out by the frustration I experienced because I really DID need his help on many occasions.  Whether it be to open a jar I was not strong enough to crack the seal on, or to listen to me talk and to provide feedback when I felt completely alone in the world, N has been here to help me through.  Albeit on his own schedule, but he does have an uncanny talent for appearing just when I need him most.  And I am always so ill-prepared to return a favour to him.  Shame on me for not being a reciprocating friend.

I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh, or cry, or yell, but I could feel something untoward building in my chest.  It started as a ball of fire that began to swirl upwards into my esophagus.  Its heat grew in intensity as it rose until it felt like my throat was being burned by acid.  The fire caught my tongue and I could feel my eyes begin to water.  Sensing my inner turmoil, N moved closer to me in concern.  He placed his big, strong hand on my shoulder and he leaned forward towards me.  I had no idea what I was going to say to him because of all my conflicting emotions, but I knew I was going to say something.  Just as the heat threatened to blow off the top of my head, I opened my mouth to speak and…I burped!  Loudly!  Of all of the responses to his generosity that I could have elicited at that moment, that one had to be the least anticipated!  The air was deadly quiet, as my eyes flew open in horror at my faux pas.  I heard the steady, ‘Tick, tick, tick’ of my living room clock, and then…we both erupted in peals of laughter!  “Dear me,” he finally said in his soft accented speech, and I showered him with a jumbled up combination of apologies and thank you’s until we both settled back down.

It was so great to see him on Valentine’s Day!  It is super to see him on ANY day, but today was special.  He is a dear man.  I care about him deeply, but I can do nothing more that that because of the impossible situation.

N confirmed again tonight that we would do my yard in the spring.  I really look forward to that.  I’m sure it will be hard work, but I love being outside.  I also really like physical labour.  There is something really satisfying about working with the dirt.  The land that I live on.  The land that I cherish.  My little piece of utopia.  My heaven on earth.

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July 18, 2017

What a funny memory for me!  Laughing with a good friend is one of my favourite pastimes.  I have come to appreciate how both laughter and friendships are priceless commodities that must never be taken for granted.  They both provide great joy, and they need to be valued in kind.

Being the best friend I can be brings me tremendous happiness, as well.  To me, friendships are living, breathing entities that require nurturing and attention at all times.  I know, however, that they are well worth the effort and the time I invest in them.  The give and take between friends is a natural phenomenon and not something where a score needs to be kept to ensure each partner is giving the same amount as the other.   When the connection is true, balance ensues.  As the years roll along, I find I have fewer friends than I did when I was younger.  But the ones that I do have, are rare finds that I treasure with all of my heart.

A Mystery to Myself

February 13, 2013

KS’s birthday!  I will try to unearth her phone number and call her in California.  What a long time it has been.  What will we say to each other?  So much time has passed since her wedding in Long Beach, and our hilarious time in Disneyland!  I was still in University at that time…I believe my last semester in Spring Session, 2007.  Wow.  Six years.  Her baby C would be six now.  A little soul in his own right.  I wonder how life is playing out for him?  For them?

Going on another day without sleep.  I have lost count of my sleepless nights.  Three?  Four?  I can only hope tonight I will feel tired enough to surrender to a sleeping state.  Right now my body feels rejuvenated after my dance workout and my bath.  My eyes are tired though, and my cheekbones feel numb.  Or rather the spaces under my eyes feel that way.  I NEED to pay my bills, but I just don’t feel like doing that right now.  I dusted and organized the main floor today.  Amazing how much stuff has accumulated from who knows where, that needed to be placed elsewhere.  Next I scoured the bathrooms and the kitchen sink; wiped down the cupboards; went through my closet to get clothes to donate to either Women in Need, or The Diabetes Society; shovelled the walks; and made my Mom some muffins.  Bit by bit my abode is starting to look better.  Incredible what a little dusting does for a place!  Hah!  Tomorrow I must vacuum and wash the floors.  Maybe if I don’t sleep tonight, I could do the floors then.  That would leave the 14th wide open for…for what?  Like there’s going to be a line up of vastly eligible and handsome men waiting outside my door ready to whisk me away to a terrifically romantic spot?  I think not…but hopefully something will transpire that will engage my attention!

I had an interesting session with Dr. F today.  He pulled out The Dialectical Handbook and we really focused on Radical Acceptance.  This was cool because that aspect of this particular treatment model really spoke to me when I was reading it over earlier.  I am on the opposite spectrum of Radical Acceptance, as far to the right as I can be!  Hah!  But the concept is interesting and one worth looking into.

OK.  my left eye is beginning to twitch.  Good thing that didn’t happen earlier today.  After I saw Dr. F and I tutored Z, I went for coffee with J.  Wow.  He sure is divulging a lot about his life to me.  He actually reminds me of me!  Or how I have been in the past.  The thinking being that it is better to take all of my negative personal baggage and bravely display it out front at the BEGINNING of a romantic relationship so as to give the other party a chance to vacate immediately if they don’t want to become involved with such a hapless creature as myself.  Funnily enough, I think I did this less for my potential partner and more for me!  There is nothing worse than becoming interested in someone only to lose them once a deep, dark, past secret has been revealed at some point later on in the relationship.  But now I don’t want to be that honest or open to start with.  I want to keep some things to myself, until the time for disclosure is right.  I guess I am changing.  All I can say about that is, “Good on me!”  The old me no longer works, so despite my usual reluctance and dread of change, I’m say’in, “Bring it on!  Out with the old and in with the new!  My past methods have become null and void, so let’s ditch ’em and learn to make new ways to be!”  I wonder what that will look like?

This time of curiosity is excellent and kind of exciting in its own way.  I am beginning to create as I go, and there is a certain freedom in that which makes me think of when I lived in Australia.  No one knew me there, or could possibly have met me before because I had never been on the continent until the fateful day that I arrived. Arguably, that was the most free I have ever felt in my life.  But those were also dark days filled with pain, what with the confused separation, partial reunion, and eventual dissolution of my short-lived ‘faux’ marriage; my Dad struggling to fight cancer back in Canada; my acutely severe and debilitating homesickness; and the profound loneliness I finally experienced when I truly found myself alone in a country that was two days away from everything I had ever known.  Troubled times in many ways, but they also provided me with the opportunity to learn about, discover, and reinvent myself.  AND, as a member of a cast of five, I sang, danced, and performed stand up comedy in a show at a professional venue for a year!  An absolutely incredible experience, and one of my life’s greatest highlights!  My years in LA were also fantastic for presenting me with the chance to recreate my identity, but it was not quite the same occasion for anonymity as existed in OZ.

What a lifetime ago.  More like THREE lifetimes ago.  I don’t even remember who I was back then.  Who I have been at ANY of the significant junctures in my life for that matter.  What a thought.  I am a series of strangers parading across the stage of my life.  Slipping in and out of costumes as I march along.  What is the common denominator amongst all of the ‘me’s’, other than that?  That all of those characters are me?  Whoever that is.  Or was.  Perhaps right now I am finally starting to learn who I really am.  I pray this time of curiosity lasts indefinitely, and that I get very comfortable examining me as I evolve into my future.  Ironically, of which the present is all I will ever know.

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July 16, 2017

“Who am I, anyway?  Am I my resume?”  (A Chorus Line)

That is a good question, and one I am reluctant to answer.  Maybe it’s not reluctance, per se.  It’s more like an ignorance in that I still struggle to define who I am.  After all these years I am completely unable to put my finger down and identify who I am as a being on this planet.  Well, that’s not exactly true.  I could come up with a slew of negative traits or descriptors that I think I embody because I have spent my whole life cultivating this skill.  But doing so is a disservice to myself.  I spend ample time each day reworking entrenched pathways in my brain by doing positive affirmations to combat the contradictory ones that are so ready to rear their ugly heads when given the chance.  It seems I am hardwired to describe myself in derogatory terms, but I now try to silence those thoughts and replace them with more helpful ones.

But, in fact, I remain a mystery to myself.  It’s easier to be in the dark about my identity than it is to challenge myself to define the person that I am.  There is a risk in making statements that capture my essence.  Once spoken, I then need to live up to them.  After years of being riddled with self-hating thoughts, I am not at a point where I trust myself to make and follow through believing self-affirming thoughts.  Fear rushes in and bites me on the butt yet again.  I’m not sure why I am afraid to think and assimilate good thoughts about myself, other than my childhood memory of my mom warning me that undue vanity would give me a “big head”.  I was about five years old, and I was standing in front of the long mirror, wearing my favourite white dress with the soft pink sash, admiring the beautiful white rabbit fur pom pom that adorned the sash.  My Mom saw me and I think thought I was preening in front of the mirror, so she delivered her message firmly and let me know that possessing a “big head” was not a favourable condition.  And for whatever reason, at all costs, I did not want a “big head”, or an overinflated opinion of myself!  Funny, the random pieces of information that I put through my filter, internalized, and made important as a young child.  So important that I remember them, and the circumstances surrounding them, vividly.  So important, in fact, that I am still affected by them to this day.

Many people say I am a chameleon, always morphing into a new image by changing my hair style and colour, or the fashion I adopted at different periods within my life.  I don’t know if this is true or not.  What I have just realized, though, as I am writing this response, is that until I make the choice to actually pick a trait, or traits that expresses who I am, I will forever be in the dark as to my true identity.  If I don’t know who I am, then nobody can really know me either.  And that is indeed, a lonely reality to live out.