Bittersweet

I accepted a new job last week.

I'll never deny that I always keep an eye open and an ear out for new opportunities in everything, from my writing to apartments. Once upon a time I was quite content to be static, until my life began to feel stagnant. Perhaps it is the fear of staleness in my life that lights the proverbial fire under my ass that keeps me looking for new adventures, but whatever it is, I found myself at a crossroads and decided to take the unbeaten path.

And so, with some trepidation, I said yes.

And then, with much sadness, I wrote my letter of resignation.

And then I almost threw up.

Moving on to this new position is both exciting and terrifying. While I am thrilled to have this opportunity, I can't help but feel a pang of sadness as I know I'll desperately miss my friends in the office. I'll miss the sense of accomplishment that comes from knowing that the work I do every day helps better the lives of others. 

But I'll meet new people. I'll do new things. And the opportunities ahead of me are endless.

It's nothing shy of bittersweet, as I look forward to my first day at my new job and dread my last day with the office. 

Until then...

Your Business

"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.

Be Happy

I used to believe strongly in the notion of being lucky or unlucky, and I felt that I fell into the lot of "unlucky" in the world. Whenever bad things would happen, I would sum it up to having bad luck and on the occassions that things seemed to be going well, I'd wait anxiously for the bad news to hit me. Kind of like when my stuff went missing or the time I found my car had been backed into.

The truth is that I'm neither lucky nor unlucky. Shitty things happen all the time to all kinds of people but good things do too. It's one of those circle of life things, and I'm really, really hoping that there's some kind of limit to all the nonsense because I'm looking forward to not having grey hair and wrinkles any time soon.

The truth is that my life really is a circus, but then... whose life isn't a circus from time to time? I make monumental messes that need cleaning up, and I trip over my own feet and make an ass of myself pretty regularly but I'm not alone. And things are really only ever as bad as you let them be, but this goes both ways.

You can't be happy if you're not willing to let yourself be happy.

I know this just as sure as I'm sitting here with a ridiculous grin I can't wipe off my face and a great big bowl of half-burnt popcorn. And it's not just my love of popcorn that has me so giddy. A little over a month ago, I decided that it was OK to let someone in. It's OK to peel away the layers and let my guard down. It's OK to be happy. After hanging out with a very handsome redhead a few times, I decided it was time to stop trying to pick him apart and give in. Around the time I made that decision, the ridiculous grin I just eluded to was painted across my face and it's been there ever since.

And I've never been so happy.

It's the feeling of being totally safe and totally vulnerable at the same time; it's being comfortable and completely out my element; it's feeling completely on edge and entirely relaxed and I wouldn't trade it for all the tea in China because it's the best feeling in the world.

When I decided to let go of the fear of getting hurt and the cyncisim that told me I could never be happy, I found happiness in a navy polo shirt offering me a glass of wine (and we all know how I feel about wine). After a week of trying to convince myself that I couldn't be happy, I took my Mom's advice. And, as she sometimes always is, Mom was right.

"It may be today or it may be tomorrow, it might be six months away, but there will come a day when you'll find someone who makes you happy again... but if you keep your blinders on, you'll never be able to see it."

She's a real philosopher, that Deb.

Be happy, stay positive and pour yourself a big glass of wine!

XO,

A

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.

Empty

I finally ran out of steam today.

This month has been one of the most emotionally draining I've ever experienced, falling only behind the month that I lost two family members and welcomed F to our lives. The move to Halifax would have been anxiety-ridden enough, but the series of upsets, next-to-impossible events that have occured and the absence of F has weighed heavily on me. In the past eight weeks, I have made seven round-trip drives between Cape Breton and Halifax. I've moved into an apartment, and then into another. I've had my life stolen from me, lived in a hotel for a week and managed to get to school every day. I have met about fifty new people, thirty dogs, walked all around the city, been out on dates, drank too much, slept too little, been up at 5:00am and spent hours on the phone with F, the police, my family, friends, lawyers and everyone in between. I even spent a week sitting on the floor watching my television, using my iPhone data plan for internet and drinking out of paper cups because I had nothing else. It was an experience, and instead of sitting down and relaxing for a little while, I pushed on through.

I forget to settle down, sometimes. I stretch myself too thin, sign up for everything and forget to take care of myself. I'll skip meals, skimp on sleep, try to carry more than I can physically lift and ultimately, I crash and burn. The worst part? I know it's coming. I know I need to slow down and sometimes, I even need to stop. I need to eat, sleep and relax here and there. I can't fuel my body on coffee alone, or run on four hours of sleep a night. I have sat in my classroom feeling shaky and foggy. I have spent afternoons curled up on my sofa watching a movie, unable to keep my eyes open and yet I'll go out for a glass of wine or meet a friend for coffee at 7:00pm. Don't stop. Keep going. Keep up the pace.

It has become a compulsion, an addiction and I fear the fall out I may face if I do slow down. What if I stop and can't start again? What if I slow down and fall behind? What if I sit, and can't stand up again? It's not even logical and it's driving me crazy. It's sucking the life out of me, and I can't possibly keep it up. I'm empty.

I know I'm not alone in this. We are all guilty of forgetting about our wellbeing. We get busy as parents, take our work home and push through our exhaustion for a bigger or better paycheque. We spread ourselves so thin that we lose our zest, our flavour as individuals. It all goes back to an inability to say "no", a fear of being inadequate and a sense of needing more for me.

My challenge is simple, and I hope you will join me:

Choose one day a week as your day. Do the bare minimum that day. If it's work, go to work. If it's school, go to school. Make simple meals: take something out of the freezer, or make it leftover day. Stay in. Set your bedtime one hour earlier. If possible, turn off your mobile phone - even if only for one hour. Take a bath, read for pleasure or meditate. Do a quick, simple yoga practice if you can. Light candles. Rest, recover, rejuvenate. It does not make you a failure. It doesn't make you selfish, lazy or weak. It makes you aware of your limits and gives you the opportunity to heal.

Stay strong and be positive!

XO

Awesome

Parenting.

There's a job that's full of surprises, mostly good but let's be real: There's a few doozies in there, too.

Like the explosive poo's that come from a breastfed baby. No amount of What to Expect literature can prepare you for that one. I learned pretty quickly that two changes of clothes for baby and at least one extra, clean shirt for me was a necessity. I won't go into detail on how that lesson was learned, but honey, it ain't pretty.

Another thing I wasn't entirely prepared for was how grating a baby crying can be on your nerves, especially when you don't understand what the problem is. It takes time, practice and a lot of patience (and, OK... some Mommy time-outs) to figure out what every cry means. I was lucky in that F usually only cried because he was hungry, and if he had a dirty diaper I could usually smell him from the next county over anyway. It is heart-breaking and mind-boggling that a parent or caregiver could hurt an inccocent, helpless child but if you've ever spent three hours listening to a screaming baby, you can almost see how it gets to that point.

I'm sure that there are plenty of women who popped out a kid and just knew what to do. I had an alright idea, I knew how to hold a baby and change diapers and F knew how to grab a boob. All good, right? Yes and no. Like any skilled trade, parenthood takes practice. It's a learning experience, and the learning curve is a little different for all of us. Every bone in my body was aching to be a Mom, and while the timing and circumstances weren't exactly what I was dreaming of, I ran with it. Every day has been an experience, to say the least. I was ready for breastfeeding and being tired, but nobody prepared me for the emotional exhaustion. I was prepared to have a baby, but toddlerhood was on us before I knew it.

I imagine taming a lion would be easier than parenting a toddler sometimes. Have you ever seen a three-year-old pitch a fit? Aye-yi-yi. Did you know that just one little indiscretion can undo months of work in less time than it takes to utter the swear-word your kid just picked up? It's not all bad, though, I promise... it's just that I don't feel the need to try to gloss it all over and pretend I have it all figured out. I don't even have 1/1000th of it figured out and I think that's wonderful! I've learned more in the almost three years I've been blessed with the role of Mommy than I did in the twenty-two years that led up to F's arrival. And guess what? I don't ever want to know it all. Some of that shit (literally and figuratively) is too frightening for me.

I have learned patience and perseverance, how to be stand up when I want to lay down and how to ask for help when I need it. I've learned how to enjoy the little things, and how to laugh at the things that make me want to cry. I have learned to appreciate my body, apologize to myself and to stand up for what I want. I've also learned that I have a lot to improve on and how to go about doing so.

Parenting is an awesome thing. The moment you become a parent you are responsible for the health, happiness and care of another human being. You spend every minute of everything shaping that little person into the type of person you want in the world. You are able to sculpt a personality, mold a character and guide an indivual down their path in life. Just make sure you have a strong stomach and access to wine.

Little Dreams

I am a "go big, or go home" kinda gal.

It doesn't always work out in my favour.

I think it's a societal thing, really, but I'll go ahead and take full responsibility for my impossible-to-keep-up lifestyle. Why volunteer for one organization when there are five who need an extra set of hands? Why aim for a five pound weight loss when you could lose twenty? Rather than taking the small, necessary (and feasible) steps toward something, I have a really bad habit of leaping off the edge without thinking things through. W'hoops. Needless to say, I've landed on my ass about 77 billion times.

At some point, though, I think reality has caught up to me. Instead of setting outrageous goals I'll probably never really achieve, I need to make smaller ones. I mean, not even mega-planes can fly forever without stopping to refuel. Cars need to pull into rest stops for oil changes, new tires... why is it so hard to accept that I have to do these things too? I can't race through a day without stopping for at least one meal or bounce through my week sans sleep. Instead of taking over the entire universe in a day, I have to break it down into one region at a time.

Dreams don't have to be gigantic, they can be as small as a pin. They're mosaics, made up of millions of little pieces: more attainable pieces, pieces that fuel you and motivate you to accomplish that next goal and catch that new dream. Some dreams take days to realize and others will take years. Some will take minutes, seconds even. Some are the result of good fortune, but most are the result of hard work and dedication, love and conscientiousness.

But, you'll never realize a dream you gave up on, so go for it! You won't be sorry.

Trembling

Do you remember your very first day of school?

I'm sure I don't, but I'm equally certain that it was not a big deal to me. My teacher was my next door neighbour and I knew my five grade-primary classmates already. The bus would have picked me up at 8:30AM, and dropped me off at home by 2:30PM. Twenty-odd kids from ages five to twelve, split between two classrooms attended that little school and I knew them all.

It wasn't until grade five when I switched schools that things got scary. New people, cliques, popular kids. These were the things of fairy tale, not my reality. On the hour long bus ride to and from school I learned about the hierarchy of bus seats, how to write neatly going over bumps and the importance of flopping your backpack on the seat next to you if you wanted to be alone. I was twelve years old before I knew what a bully really was, but I survived it with plenty of tears and broken hearts, laughter and friendships along the way.

Yesterday, I had my first day of school (again). It's the third time I've had a first day at a new school since the terrifying experience as a twelve-year-old. The only thing that's changed is my pants size and my age, really. And my major, from journalism to disabilites and back to public relations. It might even be more terrifying than it was then. I planned my outfit for two days, touched up my makeup in the parking lot, popped a mint in my mouth in the hallway and plastered that fake-confident smile we all have when we feel like we're going to puke but need to look cool. My dad came in to check it out too, which was a delectable cross between mortifying and wonderful. At least if I had passed out, someone would have been there. Besides, no one saw us.

Nine other women sat in the Student Lounge awaiting the commencement of Orientation. Some looked to be about my age, two were a fair bit older, and some looked to be a fair but younger than I. Nobody said anything. I smiled and said hello, but no one responded. So there we sat in silence, ten grown women awkwardly looking around at one another, casually picking up our class schedule from time to time and looking at it with little interest. Finally, we were rescued by the Co-President of the college. She was perky and funny and talked to us like we were little kids. It was great. We were given a tour of the campus (which, by the way, is GORGEOUS) and handed a "free" backpack. When I jokingly pointed out that it was the most expensive backpack I'd ever owned, one girl frowned at me either because she thought I was an idiot or she didn't get the joke.

I loved the faculty and while I'd really like to make friends, it's not about making friends as much as about making myself. I'm happily pursuing a long-term relationship with me, my education, talents, dreams and every other aspect of what's yet to come. So far, I've been hitting it off pretty well. I might be bashful and trembling now, but pretty soon I'll be galloping through the paces.

Pink Boy

What's your favourite colour?

Remember being a kid and asking your new friend on the playground, or on a date where the conversation hadn't gotten off to the right start? I've asked the colour question about 4.6 million times in my life, if not more. Mine is yellow. I like it's punchy, in-your-faceness and how it's bright and somehow manages to complement my skintone. I had a bright yellow room all through high school - it looked like a toddler's playroom, and I effing loved it.

Does our favourite colour say anything about us as people? Maybe, maybe not. Do you know what says a lot about us as people? Dictating that blue is for boys and pink is for girls. How silly is that? I like blue and green also, purple and pink besides. My adorable little guy - you may have heard mention of him, oh 9.3 billion times, he loves pink and I love that about him.

"Pink is for girls," my Mom tells him when he excitedly jumps up and down and says "No, Grammie! I want the pink one! The pink one!" His favourite cup to drink out of is pink. When I ask him what his favourite colour is, he almost always tells me that it is pink. "Boys should drink from blue cups or green cups," my Dad will tell him, but if my little F wants the pink cup, you can bet your ass no other cup is going to be up to snuff. He likes the pink train, Rosie, from Thomas and Friends and the case on his iPod Touch (Yes, my toddler has one... there's a reason and I'll explain later). At the end of the day, pink is just a colour and it's as great a colour as yellow, blue or orange if you ask me.

If F tells me he doesn't want to play hockey or soccer when he gets a little older, that's cool. Right now, he really loves cars, trucks, trains and tractors but if he decides he wants to play with dolls or dinosaurs, that's awesome. If he wants to do ballet, be a doctor or go to art school instead of college that's super. He has to be who he is, he has to love the things he loves and explore his interests. So, if my little guy decides that his favourite colour is puke green or sky-blue-pink, that's going to be my new favourite colour, too... It will be his colour.

7:55





This moment played through my mind a million times last night. I can still see the lights of the delivery room, feel my mom's anticipation and J's tension. I can feel the fear I had when the whisked my son away from me without even letting me see him, and the relief that washed over me when I heard his first cry. Overdue, I had spent ten months feeling him grow, three days waiting to deliver, and one full day walking around the hospital trying to get things moving and ease the pain of the contractions. When my water (hilariously) broke in the hallway, I laughed so hard it's a wonder I didn't deliver then and there. At 7:30, my Mom went to find a nurse. At 7:40 I announced that I was delivering that baby. At 7:55, I was a Mommy.

 

 

 

It was the happiest and the scariest day of my life all at the same time. Everything changed in a minute. My life had new meaning, a new purpose. I had purpose. I felt the type of love that only a mother can feel, and it filled my heart so much I could feel it bursting. It now breaks about five times a day as I watch that little baby running around like a bull in a China shop. From small and helpless to the three-year-old teenager, I've cried when he cried, felt his pain when he fell, laughed at his smile and laid silently with him for hours. He is my greatest accomplishment, the wind beneath my wings and the roots that keep me grounded all at once. He makes me want to be a better person. It's almost 7:55PM on Thursday night - F was born on a Thursday night. Every time I catch the clock at 7:55PM, my hear skips a beat. It's my absolute favourite time.

 

My last full week with him has come to an end. Tomorrow morning will be a busy one, getting ready and hitting the road. In a week's time, I'll be alone in the new apartment. How do you prepare your heart for that hurt? How do you talk yourself through it? I am terrified and I'm not sure if I can, although I also thought I couldn't possibly raise a child at all, much less be doing it alone.

 

But, maybe I'll surprise myself. I do that a lot.

Unapologetic

unapologetic: adj. unwilling to make or express an apology.

There are too few times in life that we are unapologetic as mothers, women, community members and friends. Mommy Guilt consumes us as we leave for work every day, spend time or money on ourselves, or say "no" to our children. We give time and effort to community, family, friends and we forget about ourselves. It's time to stop apologizing for every little thing. Here's a list of things I refuse to be sorry for anymore - not just as a Mom, but as ME.

1. Saying NO. To every guy I met in my teens/twenties whom I didn't sleep with, every girl who asked to borrow my stuff, every organization that asks me to donate time or money I just don't have I am not sorry.

2. Going to School/Work or NOT Going to School/Work. You are more than a mother, wife, daughter, sister. You are YOU. Embrace that. Yes, it's hard to leave your child behind but it's a lot harder to live with resentment and regret. Do what's best for you, your family, your happiness.

3. Having Dreams. I love my son more than words can describe. To be honest, I'm not sure if there are enough words for me to even begin but I want to be more than just Mom. This means having dreams and following them, working toward them. Don't give me any shit about being a bad mom for choosing to do so, either. See the above paragraph for further clarification.

4. Not being a Size Zero. If you are a mother who, like myself, looks in the mirror and cringes at stretch marks and jiggle, take a deep breath and forgive yourself. No more sorry. YOU HAD A FUCKING BABY ('Scuse my French). You've carried, birthed and possibly breastfed a child. You are raising said child, juggling your life, relationships and the responsibilities of parenthood. Pat yourself on the back and go eat a cookie. Seriously. Eat the cookie - and say Thank You to your amazing body for being amazing.

5. Going Out. You can't put your entire social life on hold. I've tried, it backfires. Let go of the guilt you feel when you carve out time to go and have that thing... what's it called? Oh yeah, FUN. Go have some fun. Spend time with your friends. Hire a sitter and have a date night with your significant other.

6. Staying In. Being tired is OK. This one is directly linked to Number 1. It's OK to pass sometimes (or most of the time, if we're being honest). Spend your Saturday night reading in the bathtub, go to bed or  curl up on the couch and watch cartoons with your kid[s].

7. Treating YOURSELF. Buy a magazine in the grocery store aisle and then lock yourself in the bathroom for an hour and read it. Headphones optional, but highly recommended. Buy nailpolish and paint your nails - or better yet - drop by the nail place and get a manicure. You deserve to feel good.

8. Letting Go. This is has been, by far, the biggest obstacle for me. It's OK when things don't work out. It's OK to let go of relationships that make you unhappy or a job you're miserable in. Whether you're letting go of emotional or physical weight, don't apologize for taking ownership of your happiness. It's yours.

9. Your Happiness. Yeah, it's hard when your friend is going through a tough time and you're on top of the world, but you shouldn't have to trash your own happiness in order to relate. It also sucks when the roles are reversed. Whether you're happy or sad, don't apologize to anyone for your emotions.

10. Being a Rock Star. Haters gonna hate. 'Nuff said.

Be positive and Stay Super! XO

Enough

I woke up this morning feeling pretty pleased with myself.

Two big suitcases sat jam-packed with my stuff against the wall, a third set on top of a rubbermaid container (mainly to hold said rubbermaid container closed), waiting to be filled. In a little under two hours last night, I managed to pack the clothes I like the most need for my first few weeks in the new place. How efficient am I? I thought smugly, and then I looked into my closet.

More clothes. Dresses, jackets, shirts, sweaters, shoes, pants, jeans, skirts... There is an entire wardrobe packed in my suitcases and another full wardrobe hanging in my closet. My bureau drawers aren't empty either. In spite of having not one but four white button-front shirts, last week I looked at one and thought how much I wanted to buy it. I didn't, and was reminded why last night. Given, some of the clothes hanging don't fit quite right but some were expensive items, and you never know when you might put on five or forty pounds, right?

More. It consumes our lives, day in and day out. We want more money, bigger houses, faster cars, better wardrobes, more vacation time. Some of us even lose sleep over it - I know I do. Want keeps me awake, need rarely does. Every now and again, want and need overlap for me. Going back to school is a great example of that. I could have done all of the schoolwork in the upcoming year in the time I spent worrying. All those hours didn't change the outcome though. They don't make tuition less and as far as I can see, worrying isn't going to make leaving any easier.

Wanting more this and more that has really only given me more stress, more headaches and less happiness. Worrying about things I can't have or can't change has only dulled my own life and taken away from all of the wonderful things I do have. What if, just for one day, I could swap wanting more with being happy with enough. I have enough. 

I have a roof over my head when thousands of others are freezing in the street. I have food in my cupboards, and electricity keeping my fridge running. I have an amazing support system of family and friends. I have a beautiful, bright and loving little boy and I have our health. New jeans or a shiny car won't make any of that better or worse.

When it's all stripped away, I really have it all - I have more than enough.

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.

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!

Ten

TEN DAYS.

Ten. I move in ten days.

If you didn't already know, I am flipping nervous. I have been preparing for this since mid-June. I'm torn between totally unprepared and chomping at the bit. Depends on the day time of day. In the line for cash at Wal-Mart today, the lady behind me commented on how cute the Thomas the Tank Engine plate set I had picked for Finley was. When I told her I had bought it as a special treat for when he visits me in Halifax, she stopped unloading her cart.

"That is going to be so hard on you, but good for you!"

Excuse me while I pat myself on the back and simultaenously throw up. It is going to be hard. It's also going to be pretty liberating.

A really good friend of mine also felt the need to tell me that, after reading my blog, I needed to remember that I'm more than a single mom. He's right, and I know it.

I've been using my single momdom as a security blanket. I've made it my identity. I've forgotten all of the other bits of me. I've put my hobbies on the back burner since those little feet hit the ground running. I'm going to miss him a lot, but there are a handful of things I'm going to really enjoy.

 -- The opportunity to do yoga whenever I want. This goes another step further in that I can enjoy my yoga practice for ten minutes or two hours, if I so choose.

 -- Running, sans stroller. Yes, I will have to bring the dog. She is a terrible running partner, but it's easier than the stroller, the constant stops to make sure he's not bored.

 -- Going to the ATM, alone. 'Nuff said.

 -- Not hitting the toy section of every. single. store.

Mostly... Rediscovering me. I'd be willing to bet that I've changed a little bit in the past two years. Actually, in the past six months. Definitely in the past six months. I can't wait to just be Ashley for a little while.

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!

Alone

Is being alone always lonely?

I am a self-professed relationship addict. The past six months have been a practice of being alone - being single. Since I was 15 years old, I have had 5 serious relationships - the last relationship ending in February after almost five years. Being single is something that is quite new to me. Different. Strange. Liberating.

I think I have always been in relationships because I genuinely feared being alone. When I was pregnant with F, I felt that I couldn't raise him alone, that I needed J. I didn't. I don't. I can raise him alone. I can stand up on my own to feet. I can be alone.

Erasing the fear from the word alone hasn't been easy. Moving past the notion that any relationship was better than no relationship was even harder, but here I am: Alone. Sure, I have my friends and I have my family and I have F, but I'm single. On my own. And guess what? Sometimes, it's really hard.

Am I lonely? A little bit. I miss the intimacy of a relationship, that special bond that only you and your significant other share. Ironically, though, I am realizing I am less lonely now than I was in relationships. A good friend told me months ago that I would soon learn a lesson she too had to learn:

There is no loneliness as great as the loneliness of an unfulfilling, unhappy relationship.

 

Being alone is scary at first, but I didn't know how to be alone. I'm not even sure if I know how to be alone now. I hope I don't, to be honest, because this journey has taught me more about myself than anything else I have experienced in my life. And, moreover, I hope that I'm alone until I really do know how to be on my own, because otherwise, I think I'll be missing out on a really big chunk of happiness.

 

No one can own your happiness, it's all yours - and that is a beautiful thing!