Forgiveness

I say “I’m sorry,” about three dozen times a day – I accidentally step in someone’s path or accidentally cut someone off as they begin to speak. We all do it. I’ve occasionally even cut someone off while driving. I’ve said the wrong thing and hurt someone unintentionally, and worse – in the heat of the moment, I’ve said the right thing to hurt someone intentionally. I’ve sworn, flipped people off and generally been an unkind person from time to time, particularly in rush hour traffic and stress-inducing situations. I’ve asked forgiveness, and 99.9 per cent of the time, it’s granted. I accept apologies from those who’ve wronged me or hurt me and in turn, grant forgiveness.

But I almost never apologize to myself. I hardly ever forgive myself, and I know I’m not alone in this. Like everyone else in the world, I make mistakes. I screw up. It’s totally normal and yet I beat myself up over it.

You see, we all make a mess of our lives from time to time. That’s life – no one ever said it would be rainbows and sunshine all the time. Life is messy. A lapse in judgment, harsh words spoken and that full package of cookies don’t make you a bad person. Coming across a roadblock in your path doesn’t mean that your journey has ended – just that it’s time to find a new way.

The hardest thing you will ever do is say you’re sorry when you’ve truly done wrong – but the most liberating thing you will ever do is forgive. Let it go. You will feel lighter physically, emotionally and mentally. Apologize to yourself, forgive yourself, wipe the tears from your eyes and move on.

You are stronger than you know. Your shortcomings and mistakes do not make you a bad person: they make you human. The hardships you face do not mean your life is ruined, but that it’s real. Never sell yourself short when it comes to how special you are. Don’t dwell on the negatives.

Take, for instance, my baby brother. He is, without a doubt, one of the most wonderful people I am blessed to have in my life but he makes some dumb decisions from time to time. When a less-than-stellar decision disrupted his life recently, he felt miserable. He hid it from those closest to him, lost sleep and beat himself up. When it came to light, he was afraid he’d hurt his loved ones and he declared his life “ruined” and himself a “bad person”.

At 19, his life’s barely begun and it’s far from ruined. He’s got a great family (obviously, he has me for a sister!), wonderful friends and his entire life ahead of him. He also showed just how incredible he is earlier this evening when he found a kitten tied outside his apartment in the cold. He went house to house looking for the owners before taking it inside to care for it. A bad person wouldn’t do that, but my brother would.

And it’s time for him to forgive himself for those mistakes in the past, and recognize how wonderful he is. You should too.

Worry

I am a worrier.

It's one of those little quirks that I can't seem to shake. I've tried, trust me. I worry about everything, from the possibility that I may one day have cancer to having my apartment broken into, F getting sick, something bad happening to my parents and little things like losing my car keys. It seems silly, but I can't help it. I just worry.

My worry has become such a monster that I've begun to question whether or not good things can just happen. When I was bombarded with good news earlier this month, I joked that the world really must be ending on December 21. Luckily for all of us it didn't, but there was just no way that I could have all this great stuff coming my way. Anyone who knows me well can tell you that if I didn't have bad luck, I'd have none. I'm that person, it would seem.

My theory that everything happens for a reason is often the only thing that keeps me going. I don't always understand the whys or even the hows, but I believe that there is a purpose and that each challenge I'm faced with will only make me stronger eventually. From time to time, my faith in that falters and I have a meltdown.

"You're such a strong, happy person," a good friend told me recently. The irony that I was in the middle of one of the abovementioned meltdowns was not lost on me. Wiping the tears from my face and apologizing for my breakdown, I listened to her tell me what I already know. I'm doing the right thing and I've come a long way. It's time to let go of the fear that I'm making a mistake, the doubts that are eating away at me have no place in my life any more.

In the middle of all the crap that was thrown my way in the past eight weeks - or the past year if we want to be serious here - I've done my best to stay positive. Even though my heart was broken, I did all I could to smile and love. Feeling sorry for myself won't help, and the truth is that there are many people who are dealing with a lot worse than I ever had to.

Put into the world what you want to get from it. Project positivity and happiness when you don't feel like it because that's when it counts the most. You might be surprised to find that it comes back to you in due course.

Hanging On

How do you let go?

I struggle with letting things go. I always have, and I probably always will. I struggle with letting go of hair or body products I don't use, clothes that don't fit and emotions and memories that bring me down. In the end, it leaves me with clutter and baggage.

 I try my best to let things go, from the clothes that no longer fit to the emotions that are eating me alive. I try to push forward and press on but it's hard sometimes. Sometimes, I just give in. Give up. I go back to my habit of holding on, clinging to the things that weigh me down and suck the light out of my life. I let these painful memories and aching emotions drain the happiness from my new life, and it's slowly going to drain my spark from me.

When the realtor called to say there was an offer on my house - the house my parents inherited and helped me fix up - I felt an odd mixture of joy and fear. When my parents came back from their meeting and said they'd made their counter-offer, I selfishly hoped the other person would turn it down. He didn't. Within minutes, the phone was ringing with the good news. I stood in the kitchen shocked, a wave of cold fear washing over me. It's really good that it's selling. It means my parents will be able to do the things they've wanted to do. It means I won't need to take out the second instalment of my loan, and that my baby brother will have his car on the road soon. It means my parents no longer have the burden of a second home, but it also means that someone else is going to live in the home that I worked so hard to create. They will sit in the living room I painted, cook on the stove I cooked on and their child will sleep in F's bedroom and it hurts.

I sit here staring through watery eyes as I imagine this young family living out my dream in my home and it's all I can do to not cry out. I sit here, my face awash with silent tears knowing that I need to just let it go, that I need to start over. I shouldn't be sad, but I am. I should be leaping for joy but I'm not. I'm hanging on to something that isn't even there any more.

 

I'm hanging on to the memory of a dream I didn't get to hold.

Packed

Packing.

The last ten days have been, um, interesting. You so easily forget the little bits of emotion you've hidden away in your mind, in your home and its contents. As I took paintings off the walls of my house, I also ripped the bandaids that have been covering the wounds left from my break up, from watching my life crumble around me. I waited too long. I should have dealt with some of it sooner, maybe it wouldn't have hurt so much. Every corner of that house was filled with emotion so great I could feel it buzzing around me, step by step.

Each room packed with memories, both good and bad. Filled to the brim with love, happiness, sadness and anger. Have you ever noticed the way emotions can intermingle in a space, laying dormant until you return there only to be completely overwhelmed? That has been the last ten days for me. I have laughed and cried, loved and fought in that house - I put my entire being into that house, turning into our home. New floors, painted walls, new furniture... it was financially and emotionally draining, physically challenging and worth every minute, or so it seemed. As I looked at the bare walls this week, I felt like I'd had the wind knocked out of me. All that hard work, and for what? For me to hate being there so much that I'd packed up our clothes and moved back to Moms? For me to be so afraid of the way my life turned out that I had to get out?

Hidden behind floor lamps and rich, red drapes were unspoken fears: Am I making a mistake? Should I be letting this go? Every dish, towel and blanket I packed had a memory - however big or small. The blankets we bought as a couple, the ones we received as wedding gifts. When the urge to cry became so great I could feel the tears threatening to spill over, I'd make a joke or walk away. I'm just so tired of being sad.

The truth is that right now, my life has a brighter future than it did a year ago. I have me back. I own my goals, my fears and my happiness. I always should have. It's easy to let ourselves go in relationships, easy to settle into the domesticated ebb and flow of parenting and marriage, but it's really hard to get it back once it's gone. Don't let it go. Let go of all the negativity, the sadness and anger of a lost relationship and relish in the joy and freedom of finding yourself. Reinvent yourself once, or twice or a million times, or stay the same.

Try, fall, and get back up and try again. That's what life is about.

Rerouting

Life has a funny way of throwing unexpected things your way, doesn't it?

For one reason or another it seems sometimes our plans just don't work out. Fall through. Fall apart. Sometimes they land in pieces at our feet. Sometimes you can put them back together, but sometimes you can't. So you take a step back, take a peek at your map and reroute.

I feel like I've been rerouting a lot lately.

A year ago, I wanted to be pregnant or delivering a baby by now. I wanted an October baby, preferably a girl but any healthy child would be perfect. Reroute. New path. I got a dog instead, and truthfully, she's more work than a newborn and signigicantly more expensive, too!

A year ago,  I planned on moving to Halifax now. I didn't have to reroute, just choose a new exit. Different destination. Longer drive.

This will always be my destination.

It's both exasperating and relieving, wonderful and heartbreaking the way our paths can change, crumble beneath our feet or keep on going for miles and miles into the unknown. It's unsettling and unnerving sometimes, but it's almost always worth the worry and the care.

A year ago, I thought I would have someone to share the load of parenting, finances and responsibility along the winding little path of life. I don't, so I carry it alone, holding a little hand along the way.

Sometimes I fall down and get right back up, full of mud and promise... but sometimes I make mudpies while I'm down there.

Standing Still

Ever since my disaster date with B, I have been feeling a little off.

I'm disappointed. Let down. Bummed out. I'm a lot of things, actually. The only thing I'm not is standing still. Letting it all sink in.

This date, unfortunately, isn't the only let down I've felt since John and I split up. What's that thing called when you try to avoid the loss you feel after a break up? Oh, yeah. Rebounding. Yeah... I did that. BIG mistake. I later found out that the rebound was dating my old friend from high school. I looked like an idiot, and I felt a million times worse.

After that, I swore I was going to be more selective... be more careful. That's when I met P. He was adorable, and I had an immediate crush on him. We met, rather embarassingly, at the restaurant I was employed as Dining Room Manager at for most of the tourist season when I served he and his friend. He kept coming back. I kept being the waitress. Finally, I gave him my number and then was overcome with the same foolishness and giddiness I recall from agreeing to sit with a boy at lunchtime when I was 14.

As I got to know more about him, I felt like I had met someone with whom I could have a great connection. There was just one thing I had to deal with: He didn't know I was a single mom. That was a big enough topic for me to approach. Next, I was going to have to tell him about that thing where I was married, and then separated, and headed for divorce. Oh, boy.

I was having an amazing day with P. My girlfriends from work (Thanks Liz and Shelbs!) helped me pick out my outfit, and Liz even let me stay at her place the night before to cut down on the drive time. We drove around together, talked about our plans, our work and hit the beach. We laid talking about our lives, and I decided to let it out.

"I'm a single Mom". Pretty simple statement, right? It was so loaded with emotion and anxiety I thought I was going to puke. The words hung on the salty air for what felt like forever before I got a response I really didn't expect.

"Interesting."

Ummm... not what I was expecting. I was ready for "Oh, that's too much for me" or "That's OK". "Interesting", not so much.

"Yeah... he's two and a half. His name's Finley..." I laid on my towel feeling even more like I was going to puke.

"Did you marry the guy?"

 And there you had it.... it was all out in the open, and we'd only gotten ninety minutes into our day. Unfortunately, it kind of ruined the day. Our day wrapped up with the most awkward goodbye kiss of the century. We met for breakfast at a cafe up the road a week later, and again the following week. On the third "date" he asked me to accompany him to a party he was going to in a neighbouring community. I declined. He then asked where I saw things going, and I had to be honest... I didn't. All because of his reaction to my being a mom. That awkward kiss. *Sigh*

Am I dating now because I want a relationship? Do I want a relationship? I don't know. I survived the last eight months as a single mom and I've even been happy. Happy and alone? I can do that? Maybe I should just dial it down a little bit. Stand still for a while. I don't need to wear a pedometer and take X number of steps every day. I can just be, at least for a little while. 

Maybe instead of trying to walk into some one else's path, I'll let someone walk into mine.

Keeping Up

Do you ever feel like you're trying to live up to something you can't possibly match?

I do. Every. Single. Day.

My best friend and I were discussing the way we compare our lives to others'. It's stupid and does nothing but leave us all with a bad taste in our mouths and a sense of failure. Keeping up with the Joneses is useless - Keeping up the with the Kardhasians, on the other hand... get on that shit (kidding, I promise!).

I always though that I'd have my whole life figured out by now. HA! Not bloody likely. I don't even know what I'm doing on Friday, for crying out loud. Do I have a plan? Yes. Thank God plans don't always work out. I say this with a hint of sarcasm, because my plans haven't always worked out and while my life sometimes feels like a tornado, it's pretty awesome.

For the record, at 25 I was planning on being famous, beautiful, married and living in a big house. The good news is I'm halfway there, except the married part was kind of a bust. But, for the first time in my life... I feel beautiful. I've finally given up on micromanaging every aspect of myself and my life. I've got stretchmarks like it's nobody's business. I'm not tall and thin like I planned on being - yes, I planned on growing taller. Well, I wanted to be. I wouldn't say I'm famous, but I know at least one person who thinks I'm a rockstar. Hopefully more than one person feels that way. NOTE: I am not the one person.

Why did I feel like I needed to have my shit together at 25? I've got less than two months to get it sorted out if I'm going to, and that's highly unlikely. Are there people who have their lives together at 25? Yup, and they're really lucky. Am I envious? Maybe a little - I'd like to feel stable right now, but more than that, I want to explore every aspect of me. I want to figure out exactly what I want to do - I don't want to be guessing it.

I'm only just stomping out my little path. It's crossed loads of other paths, and there's still a lot of paths for me to cross. It will go uphill, down hill and around the hill. I will get stuck, and probably lose a shoe here and there, but I'm going to rock every single minute of it!

Fifty years ago, I wouldn't have had the opportunities I have today. My path would have been a lot smoother and would probably have rails along the side to make sure I didn't fall off. But guess what?

I like my path. I like a little mud on my shoes. That's why they invented rubber boots, duh!

Leaps and Bounds

In only two short weeks, I am embarking on a whole new journey in my life.

I'm going back to school, as a single mom. Leaving my son with my parents.

And guess what? I am scared shitless.

If you haven't read Standing Up, you might want to do so to fully understand my situation. I shared my displeasure at being called a bad mom for trying to make my life, and in turn my son's life, a Hell of a lot better, but I also gave some insight into the fear I hold in my heart as I stare into the unknown. It's daunting, to say the least.

If it was simply a matter of leaving Finn with my parents, it would be a simple matter. I'd see him on weekends, he'd come visit me every couple of weeks and all would be well. But, there's a lot more to the picture than just that.

You see, I actually have a life here. I'm involved in my community, and I love this community. If I was willing to give up my dreams and settle, I'd never leave here... and sometimes, that's really tempting. This community is one in a million. A year ago, we were celebrated by the Lieutenant Governor for the province's Community Spirit Award. As an active member of the community and also several of the community's organizations, I received this award. It was the third time I received an award of this honour.

When I accepted my seat in school, I also had to accept that this meant a lot of sacrifices, beginning with being separated from Finn for 5 days a week. I also had to give up my position as Secretary and elected member of the St. Ann's Bay Health Group Society - but not just that. In addition to my position as secretary, I also cooked lunch for seniors every Wednesday. I founded and ran a youth group. I also created a wellness program focusing on easy ways to make your life healthier and happier. All of that went into the box of things I had to leave behind.

Devin and I, testing out our new turnouts!

Next, my position as Medical First Responder on the North Shore & District Fire Department, where I am a third generation member (AND I get to drive a firetruck - how cool is that?) along with my kid brother. We gear up next to my dad, uncle, cousins and neighbours. I'm the head of the Ways and Means committee, aka fundraiser, and a member of the Fire Department executive committee. I also took care of renting the fire hall.






After that is my involvement with the church - which, sadly, was the easiest for me to give up as my minister just retired. This woman shaped my faith and watched and helped me grow.

A lot of my identity is engrained in my involvement here in the community. I'm a volunteer, a fundraiser, a role model... am I really ready to give it all up? It's a hard question for me to face, and even harder for me to answer. Why? Because the answer is yes... and no.

I'm not ready to give up my identity. Even if I move away, I'm still a volunteer fire fighter. I'm still a Medical First Responder - I have Health Care Professional training that I will carry with me everywhere, up and down the highway, across the province. I might not be Secretary of the SABHGS any more, but I'm still involved - I'm turning that wellness program I spent hours on into a blog and newsletter for the winter. These things make me, well, me!

There are times when taking baby steps was all I could do to get by, but right now I need to throw myself into my future. Get out there and make things happen, because the truth is... no one else can do that for me. So here I go, with my Big Girl Shoes on!

#DatingFail

Today's rant post is inspired by an interesting experience I had yesterday.

A popular country song lyric comes to mind:

"Call me old-fashioned, call me out of touch".

 

Apparently, I am either old fashioned, out of touch, completely unaware of modern dating practices or all of the above. Or I just experiened the biggest dating fail of my life.

 

   From here on out, I'll be referring to my date as B. B is very handsome, and I was a little nervous/excited. Ultimately, it was pretty lacklustre and has made me question whether or not I even want to date. Vibrators were invented for a reason, folks!

    I don't really know where exactly to begin. Firstly, I've always felt that if someone really wanted to take me out that they would pick up the phone and do that thing phones were invented for - calling. Remember that? Where you hold it up to the side of your face and speak into it? That.

     B texted me. A week ago. I have known B for just over two years - we studied together, and while we were in different classes, we ran into eachother around campus a lot and he was always very friendly. I had a boyfriend (who became fiance - at B's party - who then became husband who is now ex), he had a girlfriend (who is now ex). We often exchanged friendly texts over the past several months, but the "I was wondering if you'd be interested in having dinner sometime. Like, a date" text kind of threw me for a loop.

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt in that my number is long-distance for him to call.

    Next on the agenda: Chivalry. Generally speaking, man picks up woman for date. Being a modern woman who lives in the country and he being a man with no car living in the city (public transit and the opportunity to walk - how I miss thee), I drove the 90-minute drive in for our "date" for a few reasons: the first being that all manner of entertainment (restaurants, movies, parks etc.) can be found in the city. The second being that the plan was meant to be dinner and a movie. The third being that I never, ever get to go out solo - single mom out on the town is pretty exciting.

   I arrived at his house and he invited me in to give me a tour. It was beautiful. His roommate is a recently-single 31-year-old who decided to offput his bills by bringing in some renters. He's also incredibly handsome and probably would have actually had a plan in place if he was taking a girl on a date. Post-tour of the house, B went and sat on the couch and turned on the TV. I stood awkwardly, and he motioned for me to sit with him.

   "So, what do you want to do today then?" were the next words out of his mouth. I sat there like a total idiot staring at him. REALLY? I did a quick recap of what I had obviously mistakenly thought we had agreed upon... early dinner and early show at the movies so I could be off the road before it was too late - I did drive 90 minutes, people. He then said he wasn't really hungry, and suggested we watch Dodgeball. *Sigh*

    At the end of the movie, he decided that he was hungry, so we went for dinner. It was past 5:00, and the movie began at 6:30, so there was really no way that was going to workout. We went to a restaurant and I thoroughly enjoyed the food, the conversation and the atmosphere. To kill a bit of time and walk off the wine and pasta from the meal, we walked around the mall and caught up on all that had happened since we were studying together.

   Then he suggested we skip the late movie - it started at 9:00 - to go back to his place, after stopping at the liquour store to pick up a bottle of wine. When I politely declined on the wine, he looked at me like a crazy person. "I have to drive home tonight," I explained, and he looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "You're driving home tonight? You know, you could have stayed over. I cleaned my room for you!"

WHAT? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

    He then laughed and made like it was all a joke, and I awkwardly laughed it off too. Since it was still early, when I drove him back to his place, I agreed to come in and watch the Big Bang Theory - I do love Sheldon and Leonard. Instead, we wound up watching 21 Jump Street and I drooled over Channing Tatum and then, all of a sudden, he leaned in and kissed me. It started out like the standard cute, first kiss. Then it turned into the type of makeout session that you had in high school only with one thing missing: a spark. He stood up a few minutes post-makeout and explained that he would "behave himself" on the first date, but "look out on the second date". Ugh, please.

    A few minutes later I invented a reason to duck out and explained that I really needed to get home. He then asked me to drive him to a bar to meet up with his roommate and his roommate's friends. Um, OK. When I dropped him off, after he had gone upstairs and changed, he told me how much he'd enjoyed the evening and that I "had to" let him know when I was in the city again. I thanked him, wished him a good night and drove away.

Do I really want to date? I mean, really want to date?

   In his defense, aside from the fact that the whole night seemed more like what I would have enjoyed with a boyfriend I had in high school, I enjoyed his company. But I also got the sense that he was trying to replace his ex-girlfriend with me through little hints, and the general playing-out of the night. That was bad enough. The deal breaker? He really expected that I was going to stay, that we were going to have sex, and I think ultimately, that we are going to have a serious relationship.

   Once upon a time, I might have stayed. I'm no prude - I've slept over on the first date before, but nothing good ever comes of a relationship that begins that way and I had to learn it the hard way. I have realized, however, that in the few dates I have gone on since John and I split up that every guy expected me to sleep with him right off the bat - and that genuinely pisses me off.

   Yes, I am a young single mother. No, I'm not a slut. I married my son's father - things didn't work out. Don't assume that I entered into motherhood because of a drunken night with some guy I barely knew. Don't assume that, just because I've accepted a date with you, that I want you to be Finn's dad or my new protector. I don't need that, and neither does Finn.

Dating Fail. *Sigh* Better luck next time, maybe?

Walking Away

It's been just over a year since happy photos of J and I were taken on our wedding day. I avoided these photos like the plague for months. I was driving home from town one day, not too long ago, when our song came on the radio. Instead of turning it off like a normal person might do, I tortured myself by listening to it. It hurt.

Five years of my life went into that relationship. At twenty-four, that's a long time. It's 1/5 of my life. I loved J in a way that I had never loved before, but I know in my heart he was never the one. We were too different - and not in the ways that make a relationship successful. It wasn't a matter of I was neat and he was untidy, or him shy and myself outgoing. It was our interests, our values, our friends. Most importantly, it was our wants in life and our outlooks on relationships.

Five years lead up to this moment. It was torn down in six months.

 

It's hard for me to fathom that I could love him so much, that I could give up so much and get so little in return. I don't think I ever asked for much. I wanted a partner, a father to my son. That was all. I didn't need the diamond ring, a fancy wedding or a nice car. Just love, support and a life together.

With F - one of my favourite images holds the most heartache.

I never anticipated that we would split up. I never anticipated that some of my friends would turn their backs on me - including those who were a part of our wedding day. It never occured to me that my son would have his own family turn their back on him.

I could spend a lot more of my time worrying about these things. I've lost friends. I've lost people I loved - like J, his parents, siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews. They were my family. I will always care for each and every one of them. Knowing that those relationships have been smashed and can never be put back together is painful, but there comes a time when you have to know when to walk away. I had to.

Losing J was hard, but a lifetime of sadness would be a lot harder. With this post, with this day of thanksgiving, I am going to really walk away. Leave all the bad feelings behind. Let go of my guilt.

Maybe I'll just so happen to walk across the path of the one I've always been waiting for.