A Little Bit Of Craziness Keeps Me Sane

Hey... I think I kinda like me

2011-03-24T16:08:00.000-07:00

Anyone who has read through any of my blogs or previous writings etc. will be familiar with my lifelong struggle with figuring out who I am and finding the confidence in that person once I find it.

This has proven to be a huge struggle for me, because... well... I'm a wee bit inconsistent... one day I'm this and the next that... one day I'm here and the next there.

I've been feeling frustrated and unsuccessful in my quest until it just dawned on me recently that I've known it all along, I was just trying too hard to fit myself into a nice tidy box... a clearly defined personality.

When all along the answer was in the problem itself.... I found myself IN the inconsistency.
So I've taken a stab at defining me...
******************************************

I am Me and I'm extreme.

I am the dancer, unhindered and free
I am the bookworm, tucked quiety unnoticed in the corner

I am the the center of the crowd, the life of the gathering
I am the solitary soul alone, in the quietness, with my thoughts alone to keep me company

I am the epitome of confidence, sure of all I do
I am the insecure child, seeking reassurance

I am the lover, with so much affection to share with all who wish it
I am the island, who's real heart so very few ever actually reach

I am the city girl who thrives on the hussle and bussle around her
I am the outdoor girl who is most at peace in the rawness of nature

I am the mother, who loves home and hearth
I am the free spirit who can't be tied down

I am the loud party
I am the quiet walk through the woods

I am the modern independant woman, capable of anything I try
I am the medieval woman, wanting the gallant knight to care for me

I am the girl who loves to dress up and pamper herself
I am the girl who loves her comfy sweats and slippers

I am driven to succeed, I am inherently lazy

I am sensual, I am innocent

I am intellectual, I am artistic

I am generous to a fault, I am selfish far too often

I am warmth, and I am ice

I am filled with dreams, yet I have no direction

I am full of courage to try anything new, I am fearful as a small child on the inside

I am candid to a fault, far too unfiltered, I hold private the things that matter most.

I am all of this and so much more... and you know what?

I think I kinda like me that way!

Beautiful

2011-02-28T06:28:00.000-08:00

In the craziness of pre-concert preparations - greeting people and playing host, setting up sound, ensuring that all the last minute details are taken care of - she walks around with a confident air.

She is sure of the image she portrays, having gone through the decades old practiced ritual of achieving as close to the appearance of physical perfection that her aging face and body would allow. She had carefully selected her clothing, done her hair in the most appealing way she knew how and meticulously applied her makeup to best enhance her features.

This ritual gives her the confidence to face the crowd of strangers and friends that appear tonight; to smile, wink, converse and work the room so that everyone feels welcome and set for a good time.

She takes the compliments about both her appearance and the success of the event in stride, not with arrogance, but merely a calm sense of knowing... after all she has worked hard for both and failure just isn't an option on either front. While she often fools herself into thinking she has vanquished the demons from her past, it is all too evident that her sense of self worth are still too heavily ensnared in the sticky web of the appearance of perfection, beauty, success.

As the musicians finish setting up their instruments and begin to mingle with the crowd, they offer to buy each other drinks. "Let me see what I can do" she says to them before heading towards the bar.

She heads straight for the male bartender and gives him a sweet smile and a carefully placed hand on his arm. Leaning in slightly she asks in a too friendly manner, confident that he'll agree, if they could please have drinks on the house for the musicians. Smiling at her, he goes to pour two Guinness and tells her not to worry about it, he'd be happy to cover their drinks for the night and while he's at it could he grab her a drink on the house too?

Expressing her thanks and offering up a beaming smile and a wink for his kindness she takes the drinks back to the musicians. They give a chuckle and the headliner for the night says "Had either of us gone up we'd have to pay for our own drinks, but send a beautiful woman up and it's on the house!"

She laughs and takes the compliment with a smile and tucks it neatly away in her little mental storage box of positive affirmation that is constantly being filled, yet never feels full enough.

"It's going to be a great night" she thinks to herself as she scans the room to ensure there's nothing she overlooked. As her man gets up to sing first, she looks around in satisfaction at the smiling faces in the packed crowd. Happy that he's putting on such a strong performance to start the night, and with one of their musical idols sitting at her side waiting for his turn to entertain the crowd, her mind begins whirling with other thoughts.

Smiling politely at those that come up to say hi, and answering questions as they arise, her ear half listening to the music, the lyrics of one song begin to seep through to her conscious thought. And she knows. She knows the song is of her. The rest of the room fades out and everything becomes about the words... raw and exposing.

Her throat tightens and the musician beside her catches her eye. In a brief moment of needing to connect, to explain the emotion rushing through her, she scribbles a note quickly and passes it to him. "It's hard having your life laid bare in song... but it's also so honest and healing."

He looks at her with understanding and a nod, then gently takes the pen and begins to write. When he passes the paper back it has two simple sentences. "This is so true! You are beautiful."

In that moment, she knows, it is not her face of which he writes. He sees. He is speaking of HER. Not her face, her clothes or her ability to win over a crowd… but really her.

A tear wells up and slips silently down her face. In that moment, all the approval and compliments she has worked so hard to earn seem empty and meaningless. Trite words spoken by people who had not taken the time to see below the surface to the person beneath.

In that moment she feels truly beautiful. Had she been wearing sackcloth and ashes she still would feel beautiful with those three simple words that spoke not of how she looks, of the face she presented to the world, but of who she is. “Beauty is a state of being” she thinks and smiles through the tears welling in her eyes. “I want to always be that kind of beautiful.”

Later that night as she reflects over the evening in the comfort of her bed, the last words that stay with her as she drifts off to sleep with unspent tears glistening in her eyes… YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.

Finding beauty in the Valleys

2010-02-26T07:06:00.000-08:00

So was in church a couple weeks back... and Pastor Steve was preaching on seeking out mountain top experiences. He was speaking about faith experiences and connection with God... those incredible moments when you feel so connected, so overpowered with the beauty, the incredible feeling of closeness and exhileration.

The problem is... I've always been a mountaintop kinda girl.
To a fault.
In all areas of my life.

I live for the mountaintop experiences... I live for the thrill...
In faith,
in my home life,
work life,
friendships,
social life...
I've always raced from mountaintop to mountaintop, finding the thrill and excitement from those experiences so incredible that I can never get enough.

Picture yourself having climbed one of the great peaks in the Rocky Mountains... feeling the triumph and exhileration at having reached the top...
looking around you at the incredible view that is more beautiful and breathtaking then anything you can imagine.
That's the feeling I have sought out fervently...
again and again.

So while the point of the message that Sunday morning was to encourage people to seek out those mountaintop experiences with God... the thing that hit home the hardest for me was his statement that you can't live forever on the mountaintop.

While it is beautiful and exhilerating... you can't sustain yourself in such an environment where the very things that you need for existence are not to be found. No food,
no shelter,
no water...
to stay up there indefinitely would mean to starve and thirst with no protection from exposure to the elements.

Those life sustaining things are found in the valley.

His point was that the mountaintop experiences would carry you through the valleys of life. But for me... I've begun to realize that the valley isn't the place to dread... to simply "live through"... but it's the place that sustains me and where the real life is found.

And when I truly open up my eyes to see beyond only the exhilerating wonder of the mountaintop view... I can see the calm serenity, the comfort, the nourishment, the peace, the joy and the breathtaking beauty that is found right here around me in the valleys.

My God who despite my wanderings and struggles keeps me grounded and safe.

My husband, who is my strength, my best friend, my lifeline.

My children who fill me with more joy and love than I feel like I can possibly hold inside me.

My true friends who accept my follies, encourage me in my journey of true self discovery and allow me to be myself.

This is my valley.

And man is it ever beautiful!

The Eve of Change...

2009-04-23T06:52:00.000-07:00

This was written in two parts... the first being quite awhile back as I was about to embark on a new direction in life. But I could only write so far as I did not know what lay beyond the change.

So now - well over a year later, when the dust is settling and I find myself on the flip side of the change, I have come back to complete the musing... full now of the knowledge that lies beyond the fear and the change.

***************************

Here I stand on the eve of change
I see the day behind me
Full of unfulfilled hopes and dreams come true
The joy of love
The sorrow of loss
The frusteration and contentment
The chaos and the peace

I lay these to rest in my treasure chest of memories
And I drift off to dream of tomorrows possibilities

Yet as the dawn of the new day breaks on the horizon
the comfort of the past wraps warm around me as a blanket
enticing me to bury myself deep under its cover
and steal a few more precious moments of its familiarity

The uncertainty of the new day feels cold
threatening
overwhelming in the air that surrounds me

Yet my unease keep me only but a moment on the brink of indecision

I breathe deeply to muster the courage
Shed the skin of fear
and I turn toward the future.

I find myself filled with such a sense of rightness
This
this is who I am
Here
Here is where I belong

The path ahead stretches beyond the horizon
Breaking out into many branches
Some paved, wide open and well lit
Others barely a discernable dirt path through a forest of trees

The thought of so many possibilities
So many different routes
Fills me not with a sense of dread, but of excitement
Eager anticipation for what lies ahead

As I prepare to take my first step I find my hand caught up in that of my lover
I turn to him
Fully expecting a battle
a plea to return
Only to find that he has come prepared to fare the journey at my side

Ahhhh...
This is completeness

Knowing I could have gone it alone

Seeing now that I don't have to

The prospect of the future now seems all the sweeter

Endless promise lies before us

We take our first step...

together.

Honestly Yours

2009-04-03T09:20:00.000-07:00

Wrote a song (with a little lyrical defibrillation from B thrown in) that sums up my journey over this past year.

It's one song, but written to multiple people at the same time.
Myself
My hubby
My friends
and God

HONESTLY YOURS

Empty disguises
Behind the lies is
A heart trying to come clean
A face that is smiling
With eyes that are crying
Like a ghost longing just to be seen

Just wanna be free
I need you to see
The girl I am behind closed doors
This is me
And I wanna be
Honestly yours

No more charades
No cheap masquarades
Might not seem just who I’ve been
Not who you’ve known
But it’s high time I’ve grown
Beyond this chameleon skin

Just wanna be free
I need you to see
The girl I am behind closed doors
This is me
And I wanna be
Honestly yours

(BRIDGE)
So see my face naked before you
Hear my mind break free before you
Feel my heart soar high before you
Know my love is ever for you

I'm breakin free
Now you can see
The girl I am behind closed doors
Well this is me
And I'm gonna be
Honestly yours

This is me.

2009-01-12T18:02:00.000-08:00

I'm beginning to think that all of life is just a journey of self-discovery, or re-discovery in my case.

As a child, I was confident, happy, secure and free to be me. It didn't even cross my mind to try and be anything or anyone else.

But along the way of pre-adolescent insecurities, hurtful ribbing & jokes of friends, and experiences throughout those teen and young adult years that served to further imprint scars of self-doubt firmly into my psyche, I had lost site of me. Walls of self defense and self-preservation built up around my fragile inner self until I no longer recognized the person in the mirror.

So the last decade and a half has been a slow but steady search for and rediscovery of that carefree, confident freedom.

I liken it to an archeological dig of Pompei.

A once thriving, vivacious city, full of excitement, life and possibility, that in the course of one tragic event was buried under ash that encrusted it deep below the surface. Year after year the city was buried further and further as the passing of time added layer upon layer of earth.

Was the city destroyed? Most would say yes.

I say, it was preserved. Preserved for the day when it would be rediscovered, by a slow, steady and methodical unveiling process.
The city may not look as it once did, but there is so much to be learned from what is uncovered.

And while it's outer appearance might not shine as brightly as in the days of it's youth, there is a mystery, allure and beauty to the ruins that the city at the acme of it's existence could not have possessed or compared with.

The uncovered pieces of the past show signs of aging but are precious and invaluable... beyond worth or measure.

Likewise are the pieces of me.

The Traveller's Profile

2009-01-06T06:48:00.000-08:00

This is a cheat blog - taken from a few years back - but sharing it for the sake of my dear friend Mizz Mack.

We are getting ready for an excitement filled cruise at the end of the month, and me... being a bit obsessive about certain things... I've started packing already.

So am reposting this blog as, unfortunately, it's still very much true.

So in getting ready for our upcoming trip to florida... I've once again been thrust into the depths of philosophical thinking... and this one is deep... real deep...

I figure there are 2 types of people when it comes to packing for a vacation:

The over packer (aka: me).... and the underpacker (aka: my dear hubby)

THE PROFILE OF AN OVERPACKERS SUITCASE:

Clothing for every type of weather (I mean I know we're going to florida... but it COULD snow... you never know!)

Clothing for every possible mood that one could be in (comfy clothes, travel clothes, dressy clothes, super dressy clothes, sexy clothes, bum-around-feel-like-crap clothes, want-to-feel powerful clothes, feel-like-a-kid-today clothes, am-a-mother-so-get-practical clothes, etc...)

Enough underwear to last a month... just in case there happens to be a panty thief roaming around the hotel looking specifically for the oh-so-sexy underwear that a mother of six buys. I mean... there COULD be someone out there with a wierd fetish... and I aint goin commando should I become the victim of his thievery!!!

Enough medications & vitamins to open up a drugstore... But seriously... I COULD come down with a migraine AND acute arthritis, AND peritis anni AND athlete's foot AND 5 ulcers AND a broken nose, AND hemerhoids AND liver disease all in one week...

Every piece of identification known to mankind... I mean... just in case the people at the airport don't think my passport and permanent resident card and drivers license and health card and birth certificate are enough... they'll be convinced by my Zellers card and my Tanning Salon membership and my Gas card and my Donut club card... you name it... I've packed it. No way anyone will question who I am baby!

Every other miscellaneous item imaginable... I mean...really... that extra roll of toilet paper might just come in handy... you never know when the civilized world will run out of toilet paper and I aint gonna be stuck in that dilemma!!!

THE PROFILE OF AN UNDERPACKER'S SUITCASE:

"Suitcase? What suitcase? I'll just shove a change of underwear in my pocket and I'm good to go!!!"

(Thank the good Lord he at least remembered clean skivvies!!!!)

Confessions of a Megalo-Ornithophobic

2009-01-04T12:02:00.000-08:00

Megalophobia = "the fear of large objects"
Ornithophobia = "the fear of birds"
Megalo-Ornithophobia = "the fear of large birds"

Ok - so I've made up the my own phobia. But it's a real fear to me and given my history with large feathered beasts, it's no surprise really.

But having just finished the holiday season where I was able to consume vast amounts of large birds that have met their demise I feel quite safe now in bringing my not-so-irrational fears out in the open.

It all started with a vengeful turkey that I swear was hell-bent on making ME it's dinner instead of the other way around...

I was 16... the age where most feel invincible and blissfully ignorant of the perils in the world around them. Although, to be honest, I don't think many people would think that one of those dangers would be in the form of a thirty pound turkey.

I had gone up north for the weekend with my church youth group to a farm where we had all sorts of plans for a fun filled couple of days. Being an outdoors sort of girl, and having lived most of my life with friends who lived on various sorts of farms, I was looking forward to the time spend outside and with the animals.

But alas, that anticipation was soon to turn to terror due to the event that was soon to follow.

When we arrived on the friday night, it was early enough that we decided to arrange a game of capture-the-flag in the woods abutting the barn. Only when we played using a handful of flour-bombs as ammunition to add a fun element.

Part-way through the game, armed with my pocket of bombs, I was crouched down behind some undergrowth and stealthily making my way forward into the opposing team's territory when I heard a rustle in the bushes behind me. Knowing my team-mates were further off in the trees, I was convinced that it was someone from the enemy camp, so I turned, prepared to dodge a hail of flour and launch my own attack at the same time.

No sooner had I done an about-face, ready to pelt the intruder with my ammo, then out peeks the head of the ugliest turkey I had ever seen in my life. Not that any turkey is a lovely critter, but I'm certain that it would not have made the turkey hunk-of-the-month list.

Well - maybe it was just as surprised to see me as I was it... or maybe it was my threatening stance with a flour-bomb aimed at it's head... or maybe it could read minds and was offended by my not-so-complimentary opinion on it's appearance... but it got mad... and being mad, it got mean.

It started this loud, angry gobble and took a few steps towards me. It made me a little nervous, but thinking that it was just a bird and I had probably just frightened it, I slowly started walking backwards in as non-threatening a way as possible.

Well - that seemed to only encouraged the thing.

It started gobbling louder, faster and flapping it's wings, and next thing I knew it was running towards me, so I did the only sensible thing... I took off running. Well little did I know that a turkey as big and fat as that sucker was could really move, and instead of outrunning it, I heard the thing right behind me making that horrible sound.

My heart pounding, for now I was quite afraid that I would get a nasty peck in the backside at any moment. Thus, I quickly changed my strategy, and scurried up the closest tree, knowing full well it couldn't chase me up there.

As I sat perched up in the lowest branch, I expected the thing to lose interest and leave. But NOOOO... It had found a victim and was determined to carry out it's act of turkey terrorism!!!

I threw every last flour bomb I had at the thing, but as I was shaking terribly at this point, only 1 of them actually connected, and that only served to further rile the dang bird as it continued to circle the bottom of the tree and threaten me with it's horrific gobbling.

I was trapped. So all I could do was call out for help and hope that whoever came could manage to scare off the bird and rescue me from the tree. When one of my friends heard my call and came over to see what the problem was I shouted out a warning to beware of the savage bird, but as she came into view, it was like witnessing the transformation of Mr. Hyde back to Dr. Jekyll.

There at the bottom of the tree was a perfectly ordinary turkey who merely looked at my friend, gave a soft, friendly gobble of greeting, then slowly meandered off as if going through a leisurely stroll through the woods.

You can well imagine the embarassment of the following scene as the rest of my youth group arrived at that moment to find me cowering in a tree ranting about being terrorized by a rabid turkey. No one believed my tale of course, siding with the darned poultry, and thus I became the subject of many jokes for the remainder of the weekend, especially when I refused to step outside again without a large stick as my protection to ward off any further attacks by the demon bird.

Well... if that was the end of it, my fear may have been confined to an aversion to turkeys only, and most likely would have dimmed over the last twenty years... but alas, that blasted bird was not the only one out to get me.

Fast forward about a decade and we come to another run-in with another large bird. This time in the form of a Kookaburra. It was mid-January and we were visiting the Toronto zoo with the kids during the off-season. They have numerous buildings where you walk through a bird sanctuary before proceeding in to see the rest of the animals.

We were strolling through the Australia exhibit where they had all sorts of plant and birdlife including a very large kookaburra. The kids were all excited to see the bird sitting high up in it's tree as it's quite a pretty bird. And I must admit that I thought it was nice to look at too... from a distance that is...

Well... I don't know what set the thing off - it may have been my red coat, or just that there is a conspiracy amongst large birds to attack whenever they see me... but suddenly the thing swooped down right at my head. I squealed and ducked just in time, but still felt it's wings brush the top of my hair as it flew up to a branch on the other side.

No sooner had the thing landed then it started laughing at me. Now if you haven't heard a kookaburra laugh, then you need to understand that it sounds like an incredibly human sound coming from a bird.

Well this sent the kids into fits of giggles... and I admit, though my heart was beating rapidly, that it was a little funny, and the sound was contagious so I joined in the laughter. But the sound died quickly in my throat when the bird dive bombed me again, narrowly missing my head as I jumped out of the way.

There it sat up on its high perch once again laughing at me... mocking me... which of course sent my children into absolute peals of laughter.

But me - after the second attack, I was beyond scared and couldn't wait to get out of there but the kids were having such a great time they didn't want to leave. Well of COURSE they were having fun - the stupid bird wasn't going after anyone else in the room, JUST ME!!!
"Haha - look at the funny bird playing with mommy!"

Well it tried its dive bomb one more time followed by it's tormenting laughter before I had enough and high tailed it out of there - dragging my kids giggling hysterically behind me, knowing that I had barely escaped with my eyes still in my head, and my head still attached to my body!

The sound of that laugh still haunts me years later.

Then to this day, at my own house - there are the huge crows that sit out on the hydro wires at the road, cawing loudly back and forth to each other each time I step out to get the mail or go for a walk. I can hear them talking... and I swear they are planning their attack.

Or a year and a bit ago, when I swear we had no less than three hundred black birds swarming our trees in the back yard for a full day... it was the reincarnation of Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" and the noise was absolutely deafening! I was convinced they were going to raid the house at any moment.

And I am not even safe within my own vehicle... for frequently on my drive down the road by our house, the resident peacocks will stand in the middle of the road, forcing me to either stop or run them over. Well the birds obviously aren't afraid of the car, they're just determined to get at me as they surround my car and peck at my windows.

And I swear the wild pheasants that live further down the road just wait for me to drive by before flying directly in front of the vehicle, scaring me half out of my wits!!!

So call me crazy... but I feel validated in my megalo-ornithophobia because I am convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are all out to get me.

There are only 2 things that keep me from completely surrendering to my fear and becoming entirely house-bound by my phobia.

One - the homicidal kookaburra is now kept in a separate cage at the zoo where it cannot dive-bomb unsuspecting visitors. And while others look at me strangely and give a wide berth when passing by, each visit I make a point to stop at the cage and laugh outloud as hard as I can at the bird.

And two - holiday occasions provide the best revenge of all where I can gluttonously feast on turkey and pretend that it's the very same terrorist bird that chased me up the tree so long ago.

So all you birds... laugh away, scheme your schemes, but I get the last laugh as I wipe the gravy from my chin and sit back contented with a belly full of the sweet taste of justice!!!

Some Hurts Never Heal (Part 1)

2008-11-26T19:50:00.000-08:00

Today it has become painfully obvious - yet again - that some wounds never really go away.

Emotional wounds can be just like physical ones... scar tissue may form, or a broken bone may knit together again, but a rainy day or cold weather can bring the old ache right to the surface again.

In dealing with an issue with my daughter today, the subject of adoption came up in reference to her cousin. But as we were talking through the problem, my mind kept drifting off to a place I wish I could seal up forever to close off the pain.

You see... I have three children.

Two that are of my flesh and blood and are the shining gems that brighten each day of my life.

And then there is the child of my heart, my chosen one, whom I have lost.

It's been just over two years since she left our family and was adopted to another, but when thoughts of her surface, the pain is still as razor sharp as the day she left.

The helplessness that I felt then still haunts me.

Thoughts, questions and doubts torture and plague my mind.

Is she happy? Is she healthy? Will she have any recollection of me?

Will she know that though she did not come from my body that I love her as fiercely and intensely as my own?

I just can't wrap my head around the injustice, and my heart won't find peace.

How is it in any way right that the colour of one's skin is the determining factor in deciding parenthood?

I was the only mother she knew, and she was given more love than is possible to comprehend.

Yet she was taken from me.

God - I still miss her so much - it's like a knife that twists in my stomach whenever I think of her.

She'll be turning 4 soon.

Is she still a funny little imp with a mischevious glint in her eye and a contagious laugh?

Does she still squeeze all the toothpaste out, or drag toilet paper all over the place and say "Uh-oh mommy" with a purely innocent look on her face when she is discovered?

The hurt is tangible.

But while the wound may never may fully heal, I've discovered while writing this - that in spite of the multitude of tears that have fallen down my face this evening, simply by talking through it... putting it in print to share... the pain has ebbed to a dull throb.

And maybe that's the secret. Just let it out.

In closing off this blog, I will leave you with a poem written shortly after my wee Shailynn left us as it captures my heartfelt feelings more adequately than my blubberings here tonight.

**********************************

MY FAIR CHILD

(September 2006 - Jennifer Birnie)

Oh my fair child
my love
where have you gone?

The emptiness you have left suffocates me
The silence without your sweet voice is a deafening noise my ears cannot bear
Each passing day is as a lifetime without you

My mind plays cruel tricks on my heart
I catch a glimpse of the brightness of your smile…
yet when I look, it is merely the sun glistening through my window

I hear your laughter across the field…
yet when I run to find you, it is only the song of the wind that I hear

I wake at night to the sound of your crying, only to find it’s the night owl that calls

my heart weeps for you
my arms ache for you
my very soul is broken in the absence of you

the sparkle of your eyes
the mischief in your laughter
the warmth of your arms wrapped around me
these are forever imprinted in the very core of my being

Though breath still comes from my body
Though I still laugh
love
live
That part of my heart which you captured and claimed as your own
That part departed with you my cherished one
never to return
for it is yours and yours alone

And so I weep

I weep out of happiness at the moments
the memories
that laughter that we shared

I weep out of sadness at the moments
the memories
the laughter that I will miss sharing with you

I weep out of hope that time will be kind and once again bring us moments
memories
laughter that will be ours to share once more

Until then, my treasured child

I will lift my face to the sun and soak in the warmth of your smile

I will embrace the wind as it dances through my hair and feel your laughter soothe the ache inside

And I will cry with the owl in the depths of the night and pray that each tear shed from my heart will be one less to fall from yours

And ever
my fair child
I will love

Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures

2008-11-22T06:35:00.000-08:00

Was replying to a string of messages on facebook this morning, and a bunch of us - in anticipation of our cruise in February got reminiscing about last year's cruise.

Last year we laughed so hard for the week, that we wished we had brought a supply of depends with us - lol. Well... got joking around about stocking up on them this year and it brought to mind another unfortunately all-too-true story that I wrote about a few years back.

Some of you have heard this, so it will not surprise you... others... well... Just be warned that the following glimpse into my life is not a pretty one ;o)

(It's a long story - but begs to be told - lol)

*************************************
Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures

So there are some rumours going around about me...
and I feel it necessary to clarify this scandalous matter and while I know that restoring any sense of dignity is now impossible... at least the facts deserve to be told first hand.

I am embarrassed to say that the following tale is true.

And while I prefer to imagine myself as having been resourceful under such dire circumstances, those that hear the story often shake their heads in disbelief.

I choose now to share my experience openly so that I may defend my honour and perhaps solicit some sympathy and understanding. And I hold firm to the belief that any other person under the same situation would resort to the same drastic measures...

The night in question was 11 years ago...

Life was wonderful!!!
I was thoroughly enjoying being a new mom...
I had a beautiful, blond-hair, blue-eyed baby girl... a loving husband... a quaint little house in a quiet little town... things could not have been any more perfect.

UNTIL that one dreadful weekend.

My sister Sharron was taking a group of junior high students from the church camping for the weekend. She was in desperate need of an additional adult who was crazy enough to go into the wilderness with a bunch of pre-teens (ok... so maybe it was more of a campground in a provincial park - but any activity that involves being left in charge of 15 pre-teens miles away from their parents and civilization is fraught with more peril than a wild and untamed wilderness!!!)

Even knowing the utter insanity of such a weekend adventure, I willingly agreed to help my sister... being the caring soul that I am :o).
After all, I had been raised camping and hiking since I was a babe in arms so how hard could it be to bring my own little one along. If my mom had done it, well so could I.

I felt invincible.

So when the time came, I packed up my tent, sleeping bag, a bassinet for my little girl and enough baby supplies to last me a year. I kissed my hubby goodbye and bravely headed out with a car full of screaming, giggling, hyped-up 12 year olds.

THAT was mistake number one!!!

In hindsight, I should have just stayed home in my nice little home with my nice little family - all warm and happy and safe from the terrible fate that would befall me that very night.

But naively I felt that since I had endured 13 hours of labour, I could handle anything.
I AM WOMAN!!! HEAR ME ROAR!!!

Well, we arrived safely at the campground, and though I was now deaf in one ear from the noise of the passengers in my vehicle and there was something gooey stuck in the back of my hair that felt remarkably like someone's chewing gum (although everyone vehemently denied any connection with said gum)... the trip had been remarkably uneventful.

So as I climbed out of the van, I patted myself on the back for having survived the car ride without strangling a single one of my passengers or throwing them out of the vehicle all together. (Although I confess those thoughts may have run through my mind a time or two when the decibel level reached glass shattering proportions!)

The first task upon arrival was to set up camp.

So, being the SHE-WOMAN that I was, I managed to juggle my baby girl on my hip, unpack the van and help instruct the novice campers on the art and science of pitching a tent.

When all the tents were being set up at various points of the campsite, I turned to the task of erecting my own sleeping quarters.

Well, being the all-knowing (and highly experienced) mother that I was, I decided that it would be best if I pitched my tent apart from the others. It seemed like a wise decision at the time.
Figuring the kids would stay up and talk well in to the night and knowing I had an infant who would need proper sleep, I figured the ideal place for our tent would be the opposite side of the campsite.

THAT was mistake number two!!!

After the first hour of mass confusion, tents were finally all set up and we were gathering around the campfire as the sun set in the sky.

As my sister told stories and the kids sang songs around the campfire, I snuggled my wee girl on my lap and sat mesmerized by the dancing flames before me.
The sparks from the fire drifted merrily up to disappear into the darkening night.
The stars were beginning to blink their tiny lights throughout the cloudless sky.
And I could see little forest creatures scurrying home to their nests for the night.
It was picture perfect, and we were all blissfully unaware of the horrific deed that would occur in that very forest.

The evening wore on and the fire died low, so we all climbed into our tents and settled for the night.
I tucked my little girl into her bassinet in our tent, kissed her goodnight and laid down in my own sleeping bag beside her.

As I lay there listening to the sounds of the night creatures stirring and breathed in the fresh air, I was feeling quite pleased with myself and rather smug. After all, I had conquered nature and survived a hoard of highly excitable pre-adolescents all with my wee baby in tow.

I WAS WONDER WOMAN....
MEGA MOM....
INDESTRUCTIBLE!!!

And I drifted off to sleep with my dreams of grandeur playing in my head.

Well, as they say, "Pride goes before the fall". And I was about to come crashing to the earth with more force than a meteor shower.

Some time in the dark recesses of the night I was awakened by this overwhelming pressure in my stomach.

It seemed that I had been so caught up in my ego stroking fantasy world that I had neglected to avail myself of the camp facilities before retiring for the night.

And now I was in a real predicament!!!

My baby was fast asleep.
The restrooms were a 5 minute walk away.
The other tents were too far for one of them to hear should the baby wake while I was gone.
And I refused to leave her alone in the tent as easy prey for whatever hungry beast was lurking in the dark woods.

Not only had I not conquered mother nature as I had so naively thought...
but she had given me a swift kick to the pants with a "HA HA... take that girl!!!"
I could hear her taunting me as my eyes teared up from the pressure in my bladder.

I was getting frantic.

I briefly considered relieving myself in the trees just outside the tent.
But the thought that one of the other kids might wake and see me squatting like a dog in the forest was enough of a deterrent.
That and the hoards of mosquitoes that I could hear swarming outside the tent put a nix on that idea all together. There was no way in the universe that I was going to drop my drawers out there and give those blood thirsty little demons that kind of target!!!

So I was trapped!!! And I was desperate!!!

It was then, like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man, that I saw my salvation!!!

There, in the corner of the tent, was my daughter's package of Pampers Baby-Dry diapers.

I was in agonizing pain and nearly bursting as I staggered across the tent and ripped open the package, grasping frantically for relief.

And such sweet relief I have never before or since experienced.

I crawled back to my bed, thanking the Good Lord for preserving my dignity and vowing that none should ever hear of my humbling experience. (A vow that I should have kept to my grave!!!)

But as I lay there, I was in awe at the holding capacity of the Pampers diapers. I had literally put all those commercials to the test and I came away thoroughly impressed.

The next morning, I was still so much in wonder of their "patented technology" that I decided to discreetly share my discovery with my sister.

THAT was mistake number three!!!

It wasn't long before my entire family knew of my traumatic tale.
And do you think that my loving family looked upon me with concern and compassion for the dire straights that I had been in?

NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

They choose to recount my unfortunate episode at every family gathering.

And to add more heaping coals of humiliation onto my already much tarnished reputation, my dirty little secret has been made public by none other than my loving husband and my baby sister Jo.

For some unknown reason, they felt it necessary to enlighten the teens which I now work with, who until such time must have held me in some measure of esteem, but now must only look upon me as a strange abhorration of nature.

So I have laid bare this tragic affair at your feet and now beg for your pity, your sympathy, your understanding, or any small measure of compassion which you might be inclined to bestow upon me.

And in closing, if I may humbly offer some advice...

Should you find yourself stuck in the wilderness, forced to resort to such drastic measures, I beg of you...TELL NO ONE!!!!

You've Got To Give A Little...

2008-11-21T12:55:00.000-08:00

Got into a discussion with my big brother the other day.
As much as after almost 36 years, he still loves to tease me as much as possible, on occasion he does come out with a wise little nugget of wisdom that has proven to be invaluable.

His advice to me:
"In life you've got to be a giver and surround yourself with givers. And cut the takers out entirely."

This is something that I wish I had learned way back in my formative years as a young girl. It would have saved me much heartache.

To quote Reliant K:

"Yeah I'll give give give until there's nothing else
Give my life until it all runs out
Give give and I'll have no regrets
I'll give until there's nothing left
I'll give..."

You might think this an odd choice of artists for me to be quoting, but this verse has been the unofficial, and unintentional motto of my life thus far... only I have had regrets.

You see - I am a giver... to a fault.

If there is a need, I will give my best to meet it.

If there is a hurt, I will give my best to heal it.

If there is conflict, I will give my best to solve it.

If there is loneliness, I will give my best to fill it.

The problem is that I don't know when to say no.
When to draw boundaries.
When to step back.
I give even when I have nothing left to give.

It's not good for me, and alot of the time it's not good for the receiver either.

This frequently leaves me a vulnerable target for takers.

I have learned the hard way that there are many takers in the world.
Takers that suck every ounce of marrow out of everything and everyone around them, but rarely - if ever - give anything back.

Pair up a chronic giver with a chronic taker and you are left with one person burnt out and used up, and another drunk on borrowed physical or emotional sustenance unable to function on their own steam.

On the flip side - pair a chronic giver with a chronic giver and you end up with a mutually beneficial and symbiotic relationship that results in the betterment of both.

This realization has brought about numerous changes in this past year:

I should give only in so much as I have the resources to give.

I need to be wise and selective in my friends that I allow into my emotional inner sanctum so as not to be sucked dry by emotional leeches.

I need to learn say no - and to not feel guilty about it - although this is the hardest lesson of all.

And I need to limit the impact of takers in my life, and actively surrounding myself with givers.

That balance will allow me to give, give, give knowing there will always be more, for in giving I will also be receiving from the givers around me.

Give my life knowing that it will be given right back to me

Give, give and I will truely have no regrets

Give until there's everything left through the bounty I have received from those around me.

Thanking the Good Lord for the givers in my life today!

Sleep

2008-11-19T12:27:00.001-08:00

Tired today.

Sent my back into spasms trying to resolve the issue of yesterday's blog. The issue is only half solved, so am at work today with one silky smooth limb and one man-leg. lol.

But the soreness in my back from trying to accomplish the feat gave me a restless night.

Brought to mind this little bit of verse which I wrote a couple years back when I had another restless night due to troubling thoughts.

Thought I would share it...

SWEET SLEEP

Sleep

Oh sweet sleep

Why do you evade me so?

You tease me with merciless weight upon my eyes

Yet you dance merrily around the edges of my restless mind

You flit lightly in and out

but do not allow my thoughts to find peace in the land of dreams

Why treat me so cruelly?

How I yearn to float upon your seas of slumber...

to drift weightless in that mystical place only you can lead me to

Yet you turn your face from me

You leave me stranded in this grey, dreary, unending void between wake and rest

So I lay here...

trapped in this place where my mind is held captive

by the tortured thoughts that war within...

thoughts that refuse to find rest

I lay here...

a prisoner.

And I beg...

I plead...

I throw myself at your feet oh glorious sleep

Be merciful to my desperate soul

Come and grant me this one request

Let me sail with you into the moonlit sky

Let us dance with the stars

Let me soar through the heavens with you as my guide

my companion

Until the early morning rays come to draw me back to the land of reality

Until then precious sleep

let me be yours

(Copywright Jennifer Birnie Aug 2006)

Finding Humour In The Pain

2008-11-18T16:03:00.000-08:00

Living with chronic pain and soreness is no picnic.

And while mine pain will be short lived - I have gained very real empathy for those who have had a lifetime of it.

It is no secret that I was in a car accident one month ago.
One from which I was fortunate to have escaped alive and relatively unscathed.
I say relatively because while there are no visible injuries, I did manage to mess up my back and neck which has resulted in daily pain of varying degrees and limited ability to engage in the normal activities of my life.

This has been the biggest source of my frustration.

You see, I’m not very good at sitting idly by and letting others care for me. I am an independent person by nature and the primary caregiver for my family. So it is immensely hard to watch my hubby and children having to pick up the slack. To add insult to injury, there are also certain self-care things that I have struggled with this past month.

One of those self-care tasks that has been beyond my ability (and I apologize if this is too much information) is the oft taken for granted job of shaving my legs.

I simply can't manage to contort my back in any way to accomplish this task.

(And before you offer the suggestion of using the various lotion hair removal products - I am allergic to all that I have tried - so it's not a viable solution).

So the result after a month of uninhibited growth, is that beneath my pant legs I have a thriving forest that would offset the entire carbon footprint of the City of Toronto were it actually trees.

Well... I was bemoaning this little nasty tidbit to a female friend of mine at work the other day, without stopping to realize that our male co-worker listening might not appreciate hearing all about my environmentally friendly legs.

But he graciously listened and sympathized and then the two of them tried coming up with creative solutions. And they listed everything short of actually volunteering to shave my legs for me (which I was almost desparate enough to consider under the circumstances).

Well the last absurd suggestion - which gave us all a laugh - was that we should take up a fundraiser at work where folks could contribute to a pot that would pay for me to go to the spa for a waxing session.

At least I thought it was an absurd joke, until a couple hours later, two other co-workers walked into my office and plunked a twoonie down on my desk, saying that they heard from Sean that I was collecting money for a very worthy cause. They had no idea what the cause was but were more than happy to contribute just because I had a need.

Well the embarassment and the sheer absurdity of the idea of taking of an office collection to rid the world of my hairy legs was just enough to make a frusterating situation turn into something absolutely hilarious!

So I have learned that there is humour and bright spots to be had even in the midst of the darkness.

And you will be happy to hear, that thanks to the work of my wonderful team of therapists, I now have resolved the problem. And I no longer need to worry about a bunch of tree huggers chasing me down and wrapping themselves around my legs!

Blogging

2008-11-17T16:27:00.000-08:00

It's been a couple of years since I have done any blogging... never was sure if it was worth my while or not. I mean who really wants to read about the comings and goings of a 30 something-working mother of two?

But today, after reading the blog of a friend, I have gained a fresh perspective.

While often - a blog is merely an expression of one's thoughts, a recap of the day, or a reflection on something seemingly inane... it can unknowingly and often unintentionally have an impact on the reader.

And sometimes that impact can be profound.

Too often, we as humans, who by nature are social creatures, are very private with our inner thoughts, struggles, emotions and the like. We put on a facade that we show the world, that we hope (and often delude ourselves into thinking) covers up our flaws, our hurts, our insecurities.

We're afraid to be honest about who we are... about the temptations we deal with, the fears that hold us hostage, the mistakes that we try to hard to hide, the imperfections in our nature, the hurts, pain, bitterness that may be a very real part of our inner dialogue with ourselves.

That fear of real honesty and transparency often leaves us feeling alone, misunderstood, as if no one else could possibly understand or know what it is like to be in our shoes.

But all it takes is one person.

It takes that one person who has the courage enough to share openly for others to realize they aren't the sole traveller on the winding road of life. That others have trudged along the same stretch of life's pavement before you... and still others will follow long after you've gone on to the next destination.

And in that knowledge is a great deal of comfort and a source of courage.

I found a little of that comfort and courage today in the blog of a friend.

I felt as if in writing about herself, she was scribing my thoughts, feelings and fears as well.
And how liberating it was to know that in that moment, someone understood that part of me because it was a part of them as well.

And so... I have decided to take up blogging again, in hopes that by sharing my experiences, thoughts, struggles... I will be able to pass along some of the comfort and courage that was given me today.

It's my hope that some traveller who happens along the same stretch of highway in life will take comfort knowing that someone has been there... in that same spot... and understands.