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.  :-)  

Equinox/balance

I love fall.  Cool nights, crisp, brilliant days where the sun in the coloured leaves creates a vibrant contrast against the blue skies.  The days are growing shorter, and we are approaching the autumnal equinox where the days and nights are of equal length.

The equinox is the fulcrum on which the seasons balance.  It is the balance point between dark and light, between summer and winter.  Yet it's only a moment on a continuum...so elusive, so fleeting.

Balance has become such a buzzword in our society.  Finding the work/life balance, balance this, balance that.  Blah blah blah.  What does it really mean?  Is there a magic formula where activity (a) gets x%, and activity (b) gets y%, and all will be well?  Uh...no.  

Now this sucks if you're anything at all like me.  I admit it - I'm one of those people who fantastizes about one day "getting it all together." I'll find the perfect balance and live happily ever after.  The older I get, the more I realize that this is just as elusive as the equinox.  "Perfect" balance doesn't exist except for the briefest moments in time.  Unless you are in stasis, balance requires constant adjustment.  Constant refinement.  Constant discernment.  It requires mindfulness.  I would hazard a guess that going on auto-pilot rarely results in balance.  It might result in achievement, but not balance.

Something in a state of perfect balance is completely still.  A rock balanced perfectly on another rock cannot move lest it break out of that perfect state.

Life is far from still.  So perhaps we need to redefine what "balance" really means. 

Waking up is hard to do

In my last blog entry I had the revelation that I needed more fire in my life and I ended my blog by stating that I was off to start one.

Well, here I sit a week later with a couple of sticks of wood, some matches and a blank look on my face.

The only thing burning around here are the questions in my mind.

Like this one.  Just how does one live a creative life filled with passion and joy and connection and spontaneity and still manage to run your life at least somewhat smoothly?

How is it possible to foster my own creativity and give to myself while still being an engaged parent, running a household, maintaining a reasonable relationship with my spouse, and working?

Suddenly what seems so simple becomes a little more complicated.

Who comes first?  Do I put my needs first?  Or those of my family?

Now I know what the self-help gurus would say.  If I give to myself first, then I have something to share with my family.  If you fill your own cup, you can share with your loved ones when it overflows.

I may be way off base but I wonder how many of these spiritual "experts" have actually lived in an intimate relationship with another human being.  

Relationships take time and effort to maintain.  Sometimes quite a lot of effort actually.  I'm not making a judgment on whether or not that effort is worth it or not worth it, simply that being in relationship with another human being takes effort.  And energy.  And compromise.  

And so I struggle because my time is not entirely my own.  My choices have to reflect my responsibility to the important people in my life.   

I know people who have made great sacrifices to their families and relationships in order to have careers as artists.  I did not, and would not, make similar choices.  I don't think that means that I'm less committed to being an artist, it just means that how I am an artist is going to look very different than it does for someone without these kind of intimate relationships to care for.

So...where does this leave me?  

It boils down to a question I'm sure many, many people can relate to.  

How do I balance my own needs with the needs of others?

It would be easy to simplify this into a black and white issue and to be seduced by the certainty of pronouncements like:  "In order to give to others you must have something to give.  Give to yourself first."    

In principle I agree that you can't give away what you don't have.  I firmly believe that we need to keep our own pilot light lit.   It's just that doing this is not as straightforward as it may seem.  My take on it?  It's not simple.  It's not clean cut.  It's messy and exasperating and will drive you bugs.   There are no straight lines, no simple answers, and there is plenty of room for getting it wrong.  It boils down to this.  Sometimes you need to put yourself first and sometimes you need to put others first.  

How to do this is another question entirely...

I've been sleeping...

I've been sleeping.

Not the peaceful slumber filled with dreams.  The kind of sleep that means you're really just a zombie.

In the guise of being a good mother, a good wife, a good employee, a good daughter, a good person...I've fallen asleep at the wheel of my own life.

Sleeping people colour inside of the lines and then neatly put all of my crayons back into the box.  Sleeping people use beige and grey and black.  Neutral colours.  They tell themselves that they're being mature and reasonable.  Solid.  Stable.

They're trying to be safe.   

Bright colours remind me of a time when it was all fuschia and crimson and blood red - fire.  Fire that was vibrant, shifting, unpredictable, beautiful, but it could burn. Burn too hot and you turn to ash.

Right about now you're probably scratching your heads and saying "whaaaat??"

Let me try to explain.  I used to live a life that had a lot of red in it.  Great cresting highs and tumultuous lows.  It wasn't always easy, and sometimes I feared that the low I was in was a place I would stay.  As much as I loved with a fiery passion the path I had chosen for myself, sometimes I feared that the fire would burn me and my loved ones all to ash.

Then my life changed.  We decided to move back to Alberta.  I suppose some might say we were "settling down" finally.  Growing up.  But the circumstances around our return were not of our choice - grave illness, loss.  These were circumstances thrust upon us that we had little choice in.  So we did our best to muddle through.

But that muddling at some point became something else.  It became normal.  Behaviours that arose from necessity somehow became the way things were.  The crimson flames became scary, and the beauty of them was lost on me.  There was plenty else that was utterly unpredictable and dramatic in my life, so who needed fire?

Apparently I did.  Or at least, I do now.

In the name of "balance", I have become radically unbalanced. I've forgotten that I like fire.  I like the unpredictability and the warmth.  The passion.  The vibrancy.  Instead I've told myself that grownup people are solid and stable and beige.  They don't go around being dramatic and fiery, they are sensible and paint their walls in neutral colours for better resale value.

In an attempt to be mature and responsible, I have worked to implement chore charts and routines, I have set down weekly plans to make sure that my time was being used efficiently, I have invested in budgeting tools to categorize and track our expenses.  I've told the artist inside to grow up and act like an adult.  I had to act like an adult.  I had people to take care of, responsibilities.  I needed to be predictable and solid and beige.  Not changeable and passionate and red.

What did this accomplish?  Was I actually more efficient?  More productive?   A better wife/mother/daughter/friend?  No.  I wasn't.  Because although on the outside I was doing everything "right", I wasn't feeding myself.  I told myself that it didn't matter.  I told myself that this was my life now.  I told myself I didn't miss it - didn't miss all the neurotic behaviours, the bullshit, the way it made me crazy.

But I was sleeping.   

My life became something I let happen.  Each week exactly like the one before.  Some days where everything went smoothly and some days where it didn't, but there were seldom days where I came home and said "Wow!  I had the BEST day.  It was so incredible!!!"  Mostly my days were defined by an absence of something - the day went well because nothing went wrong. 

I didn't know what to do.  I didn't know what I wanted.  This was supposed to be what adulthood is like right?  Well, it made me want to run away.  I hid.  I numbed out.  When I wasn't at work, I cloistered myself in front of my computer, checking for emails or watching Facebook for any updates.  I craved connection, I craved....

What?  What did I crave?  I didn't even know.  When I asked myself the questions that are supposed to get you in touch with your inner desires - things like "what would you do if money was no object?" - I couldn't answer.  I didn't know any longer.

For so long I had identified myself as a singer, but I've barely sung a note in almost 3 years, so what does that make me?  Nobody.  I'd lost myself.

Then a few things collided to wake me up.  This bit was the kicker.  Tonight, after rehearsing with a colleague for a duet that I will perform at our student recital, I went downstairs to talk to my daughter and she told me "Mom, you need to sing more.  It makes you happy."

In a flood I realized what I'd been doing.

All those hours wasted hiding in front of the computer, all that time craving connection and yet not wanting to connect to anyone, even my own family.  Knowing that I was hiding from them too and feeling horribly guilty about it but not knowing what to do.

I thought the charts and the routines and the solid neutral colours were making me stable.  Making me a rock to cling to in rough waters.  But all they've really accomplished is to make me beige and grey.  I'm bland.  I'm the colour of puked up oatmeal.  I'm turning to stone.  The hard layers I've built up around myself in order to be that rock have instead trapped me.    

In trying so hard to be a good mom, a good wife, I had neglected what makes me, me.  Ironically by trying to be "the perfect woman" I've robbed my family of ME!!

So what now?  Well, I'm waking up, and I think I'm going to go and build myself a fire.

About dogs and people becoming unleashed

Today I learned a valuable lesson.  Follow me into this little story if you wish to know what it was!

I woke up this morning and like every morning, dragged myself to the coffee maker for a cup of awake.  I sat down with my coffee to look at the news (aka Facebook) and was delighted to see people posting information of something I had failed to realize.  Today is the first day of spring! 

Although this really doesn't do much to alter my day to day living, it filled me with such joy.  I love spring.  It's the time of new beginnings and everything feels full of promise. 

It was in this frame of mind that I greeted the day. 

After two weeks of upheaval, I got back to my morning routine today.  I dropped my daughter off at school and headed with my dog to the off-leash park.  It was a glorious spring morning.  Blue skies, sunshine, crisp - what more could a girl and her dog ask for?

We started our walk and Riley got into a little scrap with a couple of cocker spaniels.  It was over quickly and their owner and I commiserated with each other about our dogs and then moved on. 

We continued to have a lovely walk.  We met up with some of the "regulars", had a lovely chat, Riley socialized, and I felt so incredibly grateful to be alive.

On our way back to the van, we met up with some unfamiliar dogs.  To avoid problems, I leashed Riley.  We continued on without incident. 

Then we met up with a big black dog.  She was still a puppy.  I had Riley on her leash and they were sniffing at each other, all was going very smoothly.  Riley wanted to engage in play, so I let her off her leash.  The puppy and her had a ball.  They chased and tumbled and ran....until a pack of schnauzers approached.  Now, I'm familiar with these dogs.  Riley and them do NOT get along.  So I went to leash her.  I was too late.  Her and one of them got into it and it was chaos.  Someone finally got a hold of Riley and I went over to grab her and leash her - she got away a second time and more scrapping ensued.  And THEN it got ugly.  I was in the process of leashing her up when an unknown man, not the schnauzer's owner, came up to me and started to swear at me. 

"What the fuck are you doing here with that dog??"

"It's an off-leash dog park, I'm here socializing her..."

And then he continued to drop f-bombs and curse me out about bringing her there.  I was stunned.  In all the months I have been taking Riley there, I have never encountered someone like that.  Most of the people I have met there are understanding of the challenges we are dealing with by adopting a shelter dog, and are very supportive of our efforts to socialize her.  I've been told time and again that this is the best place to bring her. 

So now you have the story.  And the lesson? 

The lesson here for me was in not allowing this jerk to pollute me and ruin my day.  I came home and showered away this guy's vile energy - imagining it as a scum on my skin that was being washed away and down the drain.  And now I'm writing about it.  This guy obviously didn't know much about dogs, and obviously had a lot of anger inside to need to unleash it  on me like that (pardon the pun).  I feel sorry for him having to walk through his day with that kind of negativity.  But I'm not going to take that on.  I'm not going to let this ruin what was... I mean what IS going to be a perfectly beautiful day. 

Friday was not such a good day.  With an interrupted and abbreviated sleep the night before, my body was not prepared to be anywhere near "normal", although somehow I expected it should be.

I spent part of the day running errands, and then took myself out for some down time.  I went for a drive in the country and stopped at a greenhouse where I walked around and looked at row after row of bedding plants being grown for sale in the spring.  The smell of dirt and the energy of growing things was lovely.  Then I took myself to a book store where I searched for the perfect escape.

After I had made my purchases, I sat down in the adjoining coffee shop and wrote.  This is what was in my head.

I feel like I shouldn't feel this way.  I should be strong for my husband and my child.  I need to be a pillar for them.  I need to move on with life.  I feel stupid that I feel so numb...I'm supposed to be the strong one!  I have sisu dammit!  I should just keep going!


Is this grief?  I don't feel much - just tired, empty and blank.  I'm not on the verge of tears all the time - I even feel fairly coherent.  But I feel like I'm weighted down.

I tried to push myself through it and finally I gave up.  I took a hot bath with epsom salts and crawled into bed.  And you know what?  When I woke up the next day, I felt better.

So what does this tell me?  It tells me that I'm not as evolved as I would like to think sometimes.  I still have it in my head that as the woman of the family I am responsible for everyone else's feeling.  I'm not.  I can't process their feelings for them anymore than I can heal a cut or a scrape for them.  I can help clean the wound, put a band-aid on it and give them a kiss, but I can't heal it for them.  I also need to remind myself that I am allowed to have feelings of my own.  I'm so concerned with everyone else and how they're handling things that I sometimes forget that I've suffered a loss as well.  You know what else it tells me?  That it isn't always valuable to push ourselves.  Sometimes the limits we feel are limits we should listen to.