Student Status

As I ran around last night, student loan papers in hand ... I felt like I was 18 years old.

I went to my new school and formalized my commitment to furthering my education in writing. We went through the final stages of the registration process, through the student hand book, the financing, cheques are written and I'm ready to go. All I have to do now, is show up with my books and eagerness to learn on Sept 1st and get to work.

As I took my student loan papers to the post office for the final signatures and ID checks, I felt like a young student. As the girl helping me mentioned how many of these loan documents were coming in, I couldn't help but be reminded of my advancing years.

I woke up this morning to find a message in my inbox from a cousin who is my age "Way to go on school! I have thought of it a thousand times and have not had the courage yet." What an impact those words made on me. Someone who is in a parallel situation has considered the same option.

As I spilled my news to one of the instructors at the dance studio and once again (conscious of my mature (over ripe?) student status) confessed how old I felt to be doing such a 'young' thing ... I was reassured that many people at all ages (even mine) are continuing their education.

At every turn, I am encouraged. My family is behind me ... and then some. I had an uplifting conversation with my mom, when I called her yesterday to let her know that my financing was completely covered. She was positive and encouraging in everything that we spoke about (and we spoke of much more than school). She passed along the enthusiasm in which one of my sisters commented on my 'new life'. My brother ended his last email with the sentence "Relish the thought of what is in store for you." My other sister sent me the words: "You are so brave to make this big step! I know that you will be successful, as you can do anything that you put your mind to."

Another email that I woke up to this morning was from a friend " ... it made me think of you and how you are making things happen in your life ... "

Who needs financial backing when you've got support like this?? At every turn, I am encouraged. I am fueled with the belief that this is the best route for me to take right now. My life is headed in the direction I want it to take. Doors are opening ... all I have to do is walk through them.

I Placed My 'Order' ... and It Was Filled!

The 'Secret' says to say, visualize and believe what you want in your life.

I said the dollar amount that I hoped to be granted by Canada Student Loans; I budgeted that amount in and saw it in my upcoming student budget; I read and reread the documentation that I had and from what I understood, I fully believed that my wish would be granted.

And it was.

I am putting myself through school. No assistance (other than a relatively small student loan) required. It was as though all I had to do was 'place the order' ...

In this transition into the world of furthering my education, I placed a few more orders. Just two. Nothing greedy or over the top. I truly believe that it is not inconceivable to receive what I can envision. If believing can make wishes come true, I am in for a banner year!

If I Can't See It ... Is It Really There?

I just finished fighting with my hair again this morning.

After my worst-haircut-in-recent-history (9 weeks ago) ... and finally the hairdresser-that-saved-my-sanity (3 weeks ago) who performed miracles with my emergency-haircut-in-Calgary-while-we-were-on-holidays ... I can finally, finally control my hair (somewhat).

Every time I wash it, I cringe at the thought of fighting the never ending battle to control the ultra-short-hair-on-the-top-of-my-head. I am managing. There are still stressful moments as I wage war with my hair, but for the most part ... I'm winning the battle.

Then, this morning ... I got brave and took a hand held mirror so that I could look at the back of my head. It was the wavy-wonky-look, if I ever saw one. I was deflated.

I walked away from the mirror (I hate mirrors) thinking - 'If I can't see it ... is it really there?'

Laughter

"Laughter is the best medicine"

As I was leaving the dance studio last night and saying my good-byes to someone who I hadn't seen for a while, I asked if she would be returning next week. To encourage her, I mentioned how much she laughed and appeared to enjoy the evening. Her response was, "We laugh all the time at home" ... Wow. They are living the good life.

I associate fun and laughter with the dance studio. How the instructors continue to smile and laugh throughout their days amazes me. But they do. For the brief half hour or hour that I am there, I am swept up in their joy and forget life at home. Not that there is anything wrong with my life ... but it's nice to have that 'happy place' to go to.

As my new, fall schedule (back to the books and trying to juggle work, school, kids, errands and a life) is on the horizon, I was overjoyed to realize that my private dance lesson now falls on the same evening as the group classes. One night out of the house and it will encompass everything I enjoy at the dance studio. One precious night to call 'my own'.

Last night, I was approached about joining a 'group formation' class. One extra evening at the studio, with a group of people who are there because they want to be a part of a group dance which will be performed at the dance showcase in November. Ten weeks to learn a dance, be surrounded with people that make me laugh and the end result would be to perform our creation in front of an audience.

I cringed at the thought of giving up that evening. I don't know what my pressures are going to be like in the fall and I know that I need to keep a sane balance of work, pleasure, family and down-time. One extra night at the studio??

Then ... I listened to my response to the friend who had told me that they laugh all the time in their home. I said "That's why I dance ... the laughter. I don't laugh at home" ... (well I do, but it's just not quite the same as my night out, at the dance studio).

Ten weeks. At the beginning of my school term where the pressures shouldn't be too taxing. A small financial commitment and one extra hour, surrounded with people who laugh easily and love to dance.

The more I think about it, the more I know that I have to find a way to keep dancing throughout my upcoming school term. Where there is a will, there is a way. I have a solution in mind ... I just have to follow through on it.

I am saying "YES!" to the group formation class. I know that I would be disappointed in myself, if I didn't.

When you see something right in front of you, that brings nothing but joy to your life ... reach out and grab it.

Moderation

"Everything in moderation" are good words to live by.

Work, play, solitude, food, noise, good times, bad times, sleep, kids, heat, the list is endless.

It seems that I've been swaying the balance of that moderated life that I so enjoy. Too much idle time at the end of my holiday ... too much work in one day ... too much heat (I hate to be the one to say it, but I really don't enjoy excessive heat). And too many words!

I look over some of my blog entries and I'm overwhelmed in words. "The lady doth write too much, methinks!"

I even went back to a few of them one day to try and contain one train of though and cut down the verbage. But I couldn't do it. It's how my brain works. One thought branches off into many more. They are connected in my mind, but in writing it down ... it seems random (and pointless, perhaps?).

I have been asked "... how you have so many thoughts and words in you?" The answer is simple. Limited adult conversation in my life!

I wake up in the morning and my thoughts run rampant. I woke up this morning with a blog title in my mind. Other mornings, I wake up with paragraphs in my brain. I sit down at the computer with one idea and then my fingers go wild. It's like there is a direct path from my brain to my finger tips, with no conscious thought in between (and I'm sure it is evident). I start with one sentence ... and where I end up, nobody knows!

That said, I am going to be brief this morning. I will go and 'spend' my words on returning a few emails.

Reflections

I made a glib comment the other day about how 'ugly' I have been feeling lately. I used the 'u' word with little thought. It's the word that came to mind most frequently when I took the time to worry about my appearance.

I don't enjoy mirrors. I use them to get ready in the morning and to give myself a quick once over when I pass one. But for the most part, I find that I am too critical of myself to enjoy my reflection. I avoid mirrors in public.

A mirror is a reflection that I see. Not what others do. I am my own worst critic. And to take the edge off the 'ugly' description in the self-talk that cycles through my head ... I should probably downgrade that insult. I would say that I'm of average looks. I don't turn heads - one way or the other. My mom once described me as a wallflower. At the time, I thought that she was complimenting me. But I realized much later, that she described me perfectly. I'm not a person that most people remember. It almost made me laugh that waitresses 'didn't see' me and I would be the one who's order didn't get taken. It happened on many occasions. I fit in with the scenery. I don't stand out. The key to that sentence is 'I fit' ...

I had the privilege of reading the writing of a 75 year old who had written some of his inner thoughts about his younger years. I was captivated by this piece of writing that turned out to be far from what I could have ever expected to read ...

His story focused primarily on his young adulthood years - from age 17 - 30. He was not only insecure about his appearance, but he was ridiculed, teased and taunted by his peers. That is bad enough when you are a child - excruciating, in fact. But as he entered the years where one starts thinking of the opposite sex, falling in love and the life that follows ... he was faced with what he perceived as one rejection after another. He finally gave up. For 13 years. He sequestered himself from the pain of rejection.

It broke my heart to read the way he told his story. He built his life around what he knew and loved. Family, farming and his faith got him through the years. I can only imagine how quiet and reflective he must have been. To build such a strong wall around himself, so that he couldn't be hurt ... the special few that he trusted must have been saints. He talks about the 'gifts' he received from his nieces - unconditional love. These were children that didn't care about his outward appearance. They saw only what was within.

He talked of 'angels unaware' ... the people that passed through his life and made a comment that affected him for a lifetime. He notices the positive side of people - he has the alternate to compare that to.

I would love to see his story change the way people think (young and old) about carelessly tossing out words. I can envision him talking to a group of young people and those with insecurities and on the receiving end of teasing, would feel understood and less alone. I would like the bullies of the world (they are all around us) to feel what it is like to walk a mile in the shoes of those that they taunt.

I have often thought that the most compassionate and sensitive adults are those that quietly watched life go on around them as a child. The children who don't 'fit in' grow into adults. What each person does with that hurt and anger is as individual as the person that they are.

I have not met the man who wrote these words. I have only read snippets of his writing and every time I read his reflections, I am touched. Even before I read the story of where this sensitivity is rooted.

He is an angel that walks among us. This world is so lucky that he turned to his family and faith to get him through life's rough patches. I can only imagine the treasure that he is, to those nieces and nephews that loved him unconditionally. And to those that he has trusted with his heart.

I'm so grateful that he has an outlet (writing it out) for all that he has lived. He has learned lessons the hard way. By writing his thoughts, maybe he can set them free.

As I read of this man's experience ... just because he didn't 'fit in', it made me very grateful for being the wallflower that I am. I don't want to turn heads ... for any reason. My biggest hope is that the only reason that I may stand out from the crowd, is to be just one person's angel unaware.

The only reflection that is worthy of admiring, is the look in someone else's eyes ... when you've done something that impacts their life in a positive way.

Acceptance and Hope

There are many ways to experience loss ...

I continue to question why I have been drawn into the lives/blogs of several young parents who have experienced the heart wrenching loss of a child or spouse. These people are young enough to be my children. I read their words and long to comprehend the emotional roller coaster they are enduring. They are brutally honest about their pain and the words come straight from their broken hearts. It is as if I need to learn something from their experience. To understand a process which I have had little first hand knowledge.

As people who I am close to experience the tragedy of loss in their lives, I still scramble to find the right words. I feel such compassion for what they are going through, yet it is something so foreign to me. I hear the raw pain of grief in the blogs that I have been following and I often wonder ... Have I said enough? Have I said too much? Can these words be misunderstood? Who am I to console someone when I don't know the extent of their pain?

Then I realized that someone doesn't have to die for you to experience grief. I have 'lost' 2 men in my life - the relationships that didn't last 'til death do us part'. You still go through the stages of grief. It's just that the other person is still alive and well ... and carrying on with their own life (and probably grieving in their own way).

I hadn't realized how far I have come until our recent holiday. An unintentional trip down memory lane unearthed a lot of thoughts and reflections.

I had been to Calgary 30 years ago with my cousin. We were 18 years old at the time and we navigated the city without a map. Amazingly, we found her aunt's house, the zoo and Heritage Park. When I was paying for our tickets (to go through Heritage Park) and asked "Have you been here before?", it was such a gift to say "Yes. 30 years ago." It felt so good to walk down a path I had been before, making new memories ... yet cherishing the old ones.

My cousin and I each 'survived' a divorce. We married men that were quite similar in ways. We lived through the experience and each of us has carved a brand new life. We lost one life but gained another.

I had been to Drumheller with my family, as a child. As we were on the swinging bridge (on our recent holiday), I immediately asked "Was this made out of wood before?" (yes, it was). I remembered walking along it. I remembered a picture of my dad on it. I remembered him slightly rocking it. And then I remembered my recent conversations with his brothers about how heights didn't bother him. I had new memories to reinforce the old ones. Precious.

Dad has been gone so many years, it is such a gift to unearth a memory long forgotten. I could picture Dad 'in real life' - not through the still life a photograph. But an actual feeling, activity and living memory.

Our train excursion in Stettler brought up memories I had long forgotten. We rode in train cars built in the early 1920's, but a few of them were familiar to me. We used to ride the train a fair bit in the 1970's. Again, I turned to one of our tour guides and asked if these train cars were used in the 70's ... because I remembered them (yes, they were). Silly little things - like the heaters on the floor that I used to put my feet on ... the lights on the ceiling of the car. The upholstery of the seats and their ability to flip so that we could face each other on our long train rides. Nothing things. But long lost memories. I remembered the ease being a child and many small memories associated with those train trips.

I sometimes forget how easy it was being a child. I will get stuck on the 'ugly, no self confidence, shy' aspect of myself and forget that 99% of the time ... I was a young person with no worries. Riding the train with my mom and younger brother. The worries all belonged to my parents in those days. I had forgotten.

Then, there were a few of the 'scenes of betrayal' of relationships-gone-by that we happened upon. I didn't plan to seek these places out. They just appeared before me.

I have known in my mind, that I have healed and moved on. But my most recent break up was the hardest loss that I have known in my life (so far). I lived and breathed each one of the stages of grief. I felt a physical and emotional pain that I had never experienced before. As I was living it, it felt endless. But I eventually found my way out. Getting out the other side of grief and starting to live again was the gift I received for enduring the loss of my future as I knew it.

Anyway ... as I endured the pain/anger/depression cycles, I could unearth the pain in a moment. I woke up with it, I breathed it, I lived it, I couldn't forget it. The final scenes of our relationship ran in a loop in my mind and I felt powerless to stop it. The ultimate betrayal was simply a symptom of a relationship gone bad ... but it was that betrayal that ran through my mind over and over and over again. It was like waking up from a nightmare, only to return to it every time I closed my eyes. I had never felt so hurt or betrayed in my life. I trusted this man with my heart and soul. And he stomped on it and crushed it like an old cigarette butt. I was devastated.

Eventually, my life took that upward turn. I started rebuilding my life and myself. I accepted the past and could look back on that final betrayal and the people involved and feel ... nothing.

I, in no way decided to consciously seek out or avoid this 'place of betrayal' on our holiday. It was a non-event in my mind. So when this 'place' appeared before me in the grandest of all ways ... I smiled. I did a silent cheer as I voiced in my mind 'it doesn't hurt any more'. Indifference. When it comes to a broken heart, hate is not the opposite of love. Indifference is. And I'm there. I knew it before ... and the physical reminder just cemented the fact in my mind.

Another memory. This one, with the power to reopen a wound. But it was powerless, in my newly reconstructed life.

Then ... just as I thought there could be no more memories to unearth ... I unknowingly ended up on a country road that took me past just one more place in my past. The 'bush party' days when I was 16. The backdrop of many moments between me and my (then) future husband. The scene of the ultimate betrayal of my 'life so far', at age 16 (when he 'disappeared' into the bushes with my best friend ...). Nothing. Less than nothing. It was long after I drove past the farm yard that I actually remembered that this memory was a part of the many betrayals that relationship endured. Talk about indifference. That was over 30 years ago - it is better forgotten. And it almost was.

The memory of pain does fade with time. In the end, it is the good stuff that sifts to the top. Thank goodness.

In our trip down memory lane this past holiday, I remember ...

... a memorable holiday with my closest cousin as we were on the brink of our adult lives, at age 18
... a family vacation in the early 1970's, where my hard working Dad took time to let loose and 'swing' on that swinging bridge
... our many train rides as a child - rides back 'home' and trips to Winnipeg. A time where I had no worries
... old betrayals and wounds that have healed - almost forgotten, in some cases ... but in the end, what I truly remember is that I do have the ability to open my heart and love someone

Stage #7 in the 7 Stages of Grief is 'Acceptance and Hope'. I live and breathe acceptance of my life as I know it ... and hope? I've never been so full of it.

Never ... ever lose hope.