Roots, wings and Grandma's buffet

The night before the night before Christmas, my brother and my dad brought over my Grandmother's buffet.  This beautiful antique spent many years living in a granary on my uncle's farm, until my dad rescued and lovingly restored it.  When it finally arrived in my living room, I was absolutely over the moon.  It is one of the first, and few pieces of real furniture we own. ("Real" meaning it's not from Ikea.)  It's something I will cherish all of my days and then pass along to my descendants.   

Having this piece of furniture in my home gave rise to some interesting happenings.  

The night it arrived I couldn't stop looking at it.  I decorated it.  Then I sat in my living room and admired it.  Throughout this process it was working on me.

It gave me a strong sense of being anchored.  In a good way.  In the best possible way.

I felt connected to my grandmother and to my roots, to my dad, to place, to history.  It made me feel like I must be a real, responsible grown-up to have it in my care.  I felt grateful that my family felt I was worthy of having such a lovely and meaningful heirloom.
  
So strange that a simple piece of furniture could be imbued with so much meaning.
  
For the last week or so I've been looking online for pictures of living room paint colours, planning how to decorate my living room around this lovely object.  I was looking for something soft and neutral that would do justice to it.  Something sophisticated and elegant.   

I found some lovely colours with names like old soul and old prairie and gentle cream.  I showed them to my husband and he said "They're boring."  I was a little offended and resisted this characterization.  "No..."  I said  "they're very soothing and relaxing."  He sort of shrugged and didn't say any more.  (My husband is a very smart man.)

Then last night I came across a picture of a living room that made my soul sing.  It was a BRIGHT YELLOW.  

And here I was face to face with myself again.  

As much as I might like them to, the words "sophisticated", "elegant", "soft" and "neutral" are really not words that describe me.

I am not a moderate person.  I am really REALLY not a moderate person. 

This isn't the first time I've had this "revelation".  Nor is it the first time that some of my dear friends have laughed at me for having the realization that I'm not a moderate person.  

As we leave 2014, I am ready to leave some of these out-dated ideas of myself in the past and to step forward into myself, as bold and eye-popping as that might be.  

And I'm delighted to feel that somehow my grandma was a part of that.   

What's that saying about roots and wings?  I can't quite remember, but I think I'm living it.  

At the top of the rollercoaster

"The moment that you feel that, just possibly, you're walking down the street naked, exposing too much of your heart and your mind and what exists on the inside, showing too much of yourself.  That's the moment you may be starting to get it right."  

- Neil Gaiman

Wow.  He sure said a mouthful.

He has just touched on what is probably at the core of so many things for me - my absolute paralyzing fear of being seen. 

When I was growing up, I was the little girl who got the lead in the Christmas pageant in grade one, I was Snow White in grade two, I was chosen to lead the girls in some thing we were doing in grade three, not because I asked for it, not because I wanted it...I don't know why really.  I was the kind of student teachers loved.  I was quiet, I did my work, I behaved in the way they wanted me to.  I didn't try to be noticed but I was.  And because of that, I was hated.

I used to come home from school crying because the other girls treated me so poorly.  I didn't know what I'd done.  Truth is, I hadn't done anything.  I was just being me.

So I tried to stop being me, because the hate didn't stop when I got out of elementary school.  I was bullied in Junior High by a girl who decided that I was the perfect target for her anger, grief and frustration over her parents' break up.  She bullied me terribly, following me home, stepping on my heels and daring me to fight her.  I told her if she wanted to fight she'd have to punch first, which she did, and I can't even remember if I hit back, but the fight was over quickly.  The bruises to my body healed fast, but the bruises to my spirit haven't.

I tried hiding.  I have spent most of my life hiding - well, trying to hide.  It may seem a completely crazy thing for me to admit to, given that I pursued a career as a performing artist.  But that was the beauty of it all.  It wasn't me onstage.  It was never me.  It was a character, and so I had all the freedom in the world.  What a beautiful thing.

Being on the stage was a joy, but pursuing a career as an artist was not.  There were many years of doing the whole "starving artist" thing because there's no money in the arts... or so I was told.  I internalized so many things that others said to me, or about me, or ways they treated me.

I'm ready to be done with that now.  At the top of the rollercoaster, waiting for it to take the plunge, I sit here and write these words and wrestle with whether to publish them and go over the peak, or stay in fear glued to my seat.

Here I go...

Another trip around the sun...

In the wealth of birthday wishes I received on Facebook today, there was the one that prompted me to sit down and write this blog today. (Thank you Catherine!)

I started by writing about my hopes for the upcoming year.  Things like learning patience, trusting my instincts more, being kinder to myself...

They are all great things to aspire to, but as I reflected on what an awesome day I've had I realized something.  What made my day so good was that in honour of my 44th birthday and the beginning of another trip around the sun, I decided to allow myself to goof off today WITHOUT GUILT.

This last bit is the kicker - you see, it's not that I never goof off.  I goof off more than I think I should.  I'm ashamed to admit that, but usually I procrastinate because I'm afraid to start on the enormous pile of tasks I have set for myself.  (Facebook, you are such an enabler.)  Today, I unabashedly took the day off and it was glorious.

What a revelation.  Make a choice, and see it through without guilt.

I think this could be my mantra for the upcoming year.


p.s.  I hope that I will make the effort to sit down here a little more often, because I'd forgotten how much I like this.  :-)