It's been almost two weeks since I've written.
Thirteen days, to be exact, since I last felt my fingers glide across the keyboard to write for me. A full week passed without a single log in, a single glance at my blog. That never happens. In the year since beginning this blog, I can count on my fingers the number of days I haven't at least checked in, and on fingers and toes the number of days I haven't taken the time to write something, anything - even if I never hit publish.
But that anonymous comment kind of took the wind out of my sails. It hurt. It made me want to walk away from my blog and not look back. It made me re-evaluate whether I want to continue this journey, whether I'm as willing as I once was to put myself out there. I spent so much of my life hiding my true self that it's been both liberating and terrifying to let the world in, but these past two weeks I wondered if I was really willing to pay the price that comes with it.
After writing and posting my response to the comment, I thought I'd let it go but it nagged at me. It made me question myself. It evoked thought. It forced me to take a step back, and as I gingerly step forward again I must admit that it has inspired me.
It inspired me to spend more time with F. It inspired this little video, and the entire day that surrounded it - maybe even the whole weekend. It's inspired me to raise a little boy who will face the type of person who says hurtful, hateful words with strength and courage.
And after a lot of reflection, it's inspired me to keep going. This journey is mine and no amount of hateful comments will take it away from me.
"What other people think of me is none of my business."
Wayne Dwyer may have been on to something when he said that. It's a fabulous way of living - and it's a statement that I wish I could totally get behind. But, like many things, it's easier said than done. I try not to get caught up in the opinions others have of me, but sometimes... just sometimes... it's a good idea to hear them out.
I am my harshest critic, you see. And I'd be willing to be that I'm not alone in that. We all dwell on our shortcomings from time to time, we magnify our flaws in our heads and we beat ourselves up unnecessarily but relentlessly. I apologize to others, but I never apologize to myself. I make myself the villain, even when I know something was out of my hands. I convince myself that I'm the problem, not the other person or not something greater when a relationship turns sour. And then I simmer in it.
Today, my landlord dropped by to let me know some tenants who have been causing the rest of us a lot of grief had been given their notice of eviction. The small talk ensued and he asked about Red. It was unavoidable, I guess, so I explained that things hadn't worked out. Simple as that. I mentioned that I was looking for full-time work and that I knew everything would be fine, in time.
"Well, dear, nobody needs to worry about you," he said. "You're the kind of woman who stands on her own two feet. I don't know you very well, but I know that. You're going to do great."
With that he left, and I smiled to myself.
That's precisely the type of woman that I want to be. It's the type of woman that I was raised by. The type of woman that I would be proud to become; the type of woman I want to raise my son. And apparently, that's the type of woman that I am.
I just didn't know it.
And the truth is simple: we are all the type of person that someone else aspires to be. Someone admires your courage, or your strength. Somebody admires your intellect or your style. Perhaps they are too shy to tell you.
In the time we spend telling ourselves that we're not quite there yet, we forget to celebrate how far we've come. In the time we spend admiring others, we forget to take a good, hard look at ourselves.
Wherever you are, whomever you are and however you got to this place is amazing. A gift. And you are fucking AWESOME.
Keep that in mind. You're welcome.
It's been a long year.
On New Year's Eve last year, J and I sat in our new home drinking wine and discussing how much we looked forward to 2012. We talked having another baby, his going back to school, F growing up, and buying a home in Halifax. I meant every word I said, I wonder now if he meant any of them. A month later, we had agreed to separate.
This morning was hardly the first time I've found myself looking back, comparing my then and now. It's not even comparable.
If I lay it all out on paper, the list of good things is a lot longer than the list of bad. In March, I scored a job I always thought I wanted - I was dining room manager at a popular restaurant. Me. Management material? My joy was shortlived when I had to leave due to personal issues in August, but I learned a lot and made an impression on the community.
I gave up my home - the home that I had spent hours and energy making my own - but I've settled comfortably and happily into my new apartment. I returned to school and for the first time in years, I made myself a priority. For the first time in my life, I've stopped denying myself the emotions I needed to feel.
The past six weeks alone were filled with enough BS for a whole year. The apartment fiasco itself was enough, actually. The stress of moving, the stress of leaving F, the stress of coming back to school... sheesh. I can't count the times I laid in bed wondering if I'd made a big mistake.
I didn't.
My blog has skyrocketed in the past month. I hit my six-month goal in less than three. I've been offered a contract writing position.
I applied for a Public Relations job for giggles, went to the interview for experience and collapsed into tears when I discovered an offer of employment in my inbox.
I've made wonderful friends. I've had great experiences. I've found myself again, and better, I'm reinventing myself. Imagine if I'd given up? Imagine all I'd be missing out on. It's easy to back out when things get tough. I know, because I've done it a million times. It's easy to return to what's comfortable, what we know.
It's important to get comfortable being uncomfortable. Life is uncomfortable sometimes. If it was comfortable all the time, we'd never progress. We'd never learn or grow.
