I feel sore today from my side work in Day Nine.
And today is snow flurries and cold cold cold.
So we moved it inside.
Storage room, cement floor, large mirrors and enough space to get the heart rate going. Heck, you could be sitting in a one foot by two feet cubicle and still have a heart race.
Even though I was sore in my ab area for some reason I chose to work that part more.
Pain drives some people I suppose, and I happen to be one of them.
So I think I’m getting a little tired of all these sad, mud-filled posts of mine. Sure, the internet is a garbage disposal. Not to say that all we’re expressing is garbage. Some of us have blogs just to vent out madness and sadness and hopelessness. That’s fine. Who am I to say really .
I’m just. There’s a point for me, where it’s not so much beneficial anymore.
Where I’m just latching onto the negative I’m expelling and using it as weapon towards any potential happiness.
I haven’t drank in two days. That’s a pretty good sign. And now I’m wanting to lesson the sad posts. Another good sign.
Work has been so excellent. I’m more happy than ever to go. Weird huh.
Anyhow, here’s to trying for more positive posts in the future.
Because there is always,
something worth being happy about.
You realize new things all the time. Sometimes you ignore them. Sometimes you can’t.
Sometimes deeper inflection means more new things.
I used to be a giggle, life loving, small things make me laugh loud, person.
It got crumpled over the years and now, looking back I tend to feel sad at the loss of that characteristic of me.
But as it turns out,
I am in charge of my self.
I really can promote that type of easy happy. Just by changing some brain thoughts.
I realize that over time I have gotten more conscious of my little springy happiness and thought it to be childish. But now I know that those are the things that do make me happy and without them, I lose a big chunk of self. And losing a good part of self, is a sadness.
I dont’ feel 27. I still feel 20. And that is where the imbalance comes from.
I shouldn’t care about what others thnk anymore. Because it’s wrecking my life.
So I shall now walk into my days with a silliness, a goofiness that I’ve tucked away in trenches. Because that’s the kind of happiness I am good at creating and being around. That’s the me that I need to live.
A month ago yesterday, son and I landed in Toronto.
It feels like a year.
What is busy?
Everyones busy is different. It is a perspective.
I am coming from days that were spent sitting at home editing videos, days where going a 30 second walk to the village playground was the highlight of the day. Every day.
20 minute drives into town to run errands, to shop and to see people. Days where going outside is the least of what we do.
So to me, my busy has elevated quite quickly.
Speaking with people is a part of my busy.
Getting doors held open for me and my stroller, acknowledging and saying ‘thank you’, is a part of my busy.
Eventually, these will become less of busy and more of just how life is.
And it will be my basis, my grounds, for more busy. So maybe by the time my kid goes to school, I’ll be so used to my busy, not having him around daily, will drive me to the Whoa Streets.
Or maybe not.
I think one of the toughest things I’ll find in the next few months is doing.
Doing what I know I need to. Doing what I’m telling myself and what I’m telling people. They are the same thing but I can feel it wavering when I’m speaking it outloud to someone.
As if, I don’t really believe that I’m going to do it.
It’s so easy to fall back into the ways I knew.
Maybe I am expecting this to come naturally, because my desire for it is big enough.
But I think I’m slowly understanding that it’s not an overnight or a month change.
Lifestyles don’t just happen. They end up being lifestyles because of consecutive days that hold consistency.
It took five years for me to cry over American or Canadian English,to flip out when I find Honey Nut Cheerios in a grocery store. It took five years for me to cry sitting on a mall floor, at the sight of shoes I know people in Canada would wear.
The intensity of longing and desire, of yearning and of miss, derives from the length of time they have been felt.
I laugh at this. I embrace it. I am in love with it.
It is a part of me now. I will not always miss this.More importantly I will not always miss like this.
So even though this breaks me, even though this aches, even though I crave English interaction so much I talk to myself almost every day at lunch,
it is beautiful.
It stuns me.
The simplicity of it all.
More than half of my friends, will never feel like this. More than half, have not lived abroad, let alone for five years.
I accept that it will forever make me different. That those friends I had, will not understand.
I accept that now, maybe my selection of future friends will have to have had simliar experiences to this, thus slimming the amount of friends I find and connect with.
I will take a hold of this and run with it.
For to deny change at such a level, is a hopeless solution.
I will only be weak because of it. And if I am weak, how will my future friends confide in me or find solace? How good of a friend will I really be?
I’ve been back here for three weeks.
Feels like both. Feels long and short.
Feels like I was just feeling all those emotions and hating leaving and wanting to stay forever there and at the same time it feels like I haven’t seen some people in months.
I’ve been in a funk since I’ve got back, haven’t been able to wrap my head around what’s happened. I know what I need to do but the hardest part is doing it. I’ve been pushing my head into letters and life back in Canada, in emails and texts and not really looking up to focus on my child and my present days here. I’m doing just enough to slide by.
I know this will end eventually. This time of me digging into my life back there. It’s not healthy and I know it.
But it is that addicting and that controlling.
It is incredibly scary to make a move of change. A lot has to change, and the road will be long and windy, and will carry more pot holes than I’ve ever rode over in all my life.
I must start it. I must.
Before my lamp goes out,
I have photos dating back to 2003 on my harddrive. And I am going through them. And my heart is aching. Actually aching. It hurts. So many memories. So many beautiful ones. It is almost astounding. These pictures of the pieces of my life. They flash in and out so vividly. Like I am reliving. This is what my past was like. I want to cry. I am in love with every single one. Pictures that are blurry, that are from the old film. Film you handed over to Walmart staff in a plastic little capsule. And an envelope of photos you would pick up an hour later in return. These feelings knock me off the earth a bit. I am in love with my past but I wasn’t while it was my present. Is that going to happen when I look back on these days I am living right now?
There is a point in marriage I think.
Well, there are a lot of points. But this one I’m talking about, it involves the decision of commitment. You take the vow on the day, for certain.
But it comes back numerous times throughout the marriage and you must make that conscious decision of ‘yes, i’m sticking with this’.
Maybe it doesn’t happen with everyone. Maybe some don’t really acknowledge the choice; that there isn’t one because of that first vow. But to me, a sign of love is making the choice continously. Because love is work. Love takes so much effort and it has more substance when it is something you choose to be in, rather than in because of a vow you made 6 years ago.
It can be a good thing to be aware that you can get out. And that you won’t, because of love.
Of course, in instances of abuse and the like- I would argue changes need to be made.
And if not, the commitment should end.
When we realise the power we have, the decisions we make are more valuable.
When we realise we are staying together, whether it is a question or not- we can be proud of that decision.
Let us feel bits of happiness for making a promise to be with someone for the rest of our life-and
The divorce rates are scary high and we know that marriage is work. It will almost be the hardest thing we do.
So let’s give ourselves some credit and acknowledge the fact that love has brought us here and it is love that will carry us through.