Proper Mice

Someone thought I was proper. This is quite confusing as it is not something I ever remember being said about me prior. And in my sickly state as I thought about it all I could picture were proper mice. They seem so noble and upstanding to me. Are nice actually proper? Now get the image. Think of the mouse king in the nutcracker. That's proper.

So how am I proper? I am nothing like that mouse King. Was I sitting too properly just trying to remain composed as my body felt like it was going to give out? Or am I just really grown up. Eight years is a really long time. But is it that long? Have I changed more than I thought. The more I try and think about it the more I realize that I probably have. I just wonder if it's all for the best.

I miss those carefree years. The freedom. The complete independence. The ability to get up and go. I miss feeling young.

But if I hadn't changed I wouldn't have love in this way that I didn't know what's real. Having someone that loves me when I am sick and crazy and when I am stressed and tired and when I am beautiful. I wouldn't have a second family or a house or this life that gives me travel and snuggles and Mexican food. 

I just want to make sure that being a nobel mouse isn't stifling the carefree ferret that is within me.

This Photograph Is Proof

I flipped the page. So many photos I didn't remember seeing of my childhood. Memories lost. There was a series of 4. One of each of us with the man that biologically was our father. It seemed bizarre that we each had a photo at this amusement park when previous visits had all the kids together with no parental pictures. I was seven. My mother saw it. I felt her ache. I asked. She said that was taken during the first time he left. He had the kids for a visit that day and took us to that amusement park. A time I used to think I imagine. Until he left for good. Then I realized that this wasn't the first time. I threw my photo out. I don't need more photographic proof that even at seven I wasn't worth staying for. There are two decades of painful photos. I just couldn't do it. 

Some photographs are stolen moments from memories we don't remember. Some are reminders of the best times. And some capture moments our brain has so carefully tried to help us forget. The older I grow the more I realize my brain has protected me from so much. From remembering the bad times. From keeping my losses at the forefront. From allowing the scars to form where I would never be able to forget. 

This photograph didn't need to be proof for me to refind another day. Some moments are meant to be forgotten. 

The Tears You Didn't Know About That Were Waiting To Fall

It felt like the clarity came from the murkiest water. It was more than a sounding board. It was an objective set of ears. And it felt safe enough. I knew things were weird. Not right. I wasn't myself and the more I tried to explain that the more tears found crevices to escape from. It hurt. It felt like I was finally letting go. And it felt like no one could understand if I didn't know what was going on myself.

And then the questions began in a fashion that was leading me to answers. I feel so much internal and external pressure along with stability. I am finally realizing I do not thrive in an unchanging and stable environment. I feel contained. I need chaos and drama and spontaneity. I can't say that I didn't enjoy those months with different boyfriends constantly and no plans and being able to do whatever I wanted outside the few scheduled hours of learning. I loved being able to move my life. To walk away. To live knowing that nothing was permanent. It felt like home. And living.

So here I am. Apparently struggling to settle into normal routine. Into the life I wanted and created. I think that's how I found myself in a boxing gym. Something inside me knew I needed random. So it found it. 

I suppose knowing this is part of the problem helps but it also makes me crave that change. There is only so much I can do with hair and other masking changes. But I can't just move. We can't move. I can't just get up and travel or watch tv for days.

I have felt less out of control since the tears poured. Maybe all I needed was to know that there was a reason for my irrational mental disasters. To have someone piece together the fact that my last birthday increased the baby pressure and that I wasn't ready to give up my life. To hear that all of these tears had a reason. That my sensitivity is from my past. From my experiences. 

So on I will go. Wiping the tears that falls searching for change and excitment and trying to take away the structure I so carefully built that is now suffocating me. 

Paws of the Southern Nature

It didn't begin then. The beginning may be unknown. It just began. But I couldn't find all of the words to say it. Sometimes I just feel too much. But if I am not feeling too much I am feeling numb. Like me emotions are in an ice castle void of the world. It feels like I live in the extremes. And if I have to choose I ultimately choose the mind altering ache of feeling everything. When I feel nothing I sit and remind myself of my emotional scars, the times I sat crying uncontrollably, so I can remember what it feels like to hurt. To feel. 

As we sat in the theatre watching a movie I thought would just be about the difference in a right foot forward stance, my preference, I found the tears streaming. I can't handle the agony of watching lives fall apart or famies being separated. I felt every moment. Too many subtle moments were reminders of my life. Watching so many children being ripped away. Waiting at the door for siblings to come home from visits they didn't want to attend. My chest aches and my throat was tight and the tears kept falling. I just wanted to see how he fought. I didn't want to cry.

I think this is my reality though. I can either close the door and refuse to feel or I will feel every single ache. My regulator seems broken. And part of me thinks that I need to feel the pain to feel alive. That if I try and tone it down or allow myself to love for longer periods in my bomb shelter from emotions that I will become and empty shell. I need the pain to be able to go on. To be me. I need the tears to recognize myself. 

It feels so dark and twisted. But I think the concoction that creates me required enough a self loathing, reliving emotional scarring and crying to create someone that seems so put together. And the more I think about it, there is a part of me that loves this angry broken cycle. It's like the aching comes with an aftertaste of feeling alive. 

The Exes That Make You Why

The subconscious seems to be a friend of the devil. Or perhaps it is just sadistic. Or maybe that's just mine. But I think it is true. My subconscious loves nothing more than dredging up the past. Reminding me of all the reasons I have to be insecure. To question the world. To wonder why I ever let go. Sometimes it's in the form of dreams that feel more relentless and tormenting than dreamy. Other times it's reminders from words or lyrics or moments. It just seems like my subconscious wants to hold my past with its last breath, no matter how hard I try and suffocate it. 

I don't hate my past. I don't feel shame. I just don't want to remember all the times my heart was broken or the choices that could have been better or the whys that were never answered. I don't want to relive the times I was not good enough or the times I couldn't hold on to. I just want to appreciate the now. The life I am trying to create. The people I have. I don't want to be dragged down by my moodiness or reminders of the hold that depression has had. I don't want to look in the mirror and see mistakes or wish for wishes that are not mine. 

I just wish that sometimes I could sit down with my subconscious and remind it of the pain, the hurt, the loss that it holds and that I don't want to be that girl any more. I don't want to be the one that wishes that exes gave answers. That lost people came back. That could take back words and glances that ruined friendships. I want to be better now instead of constantly being reminded I wasn't better then.

So here it is.

I wish you didn't say you would come to Australia when you knew you never would. You dragged my heart through the mud for years. And you knew it. 

I wish you would have admitted your feelings at any point. Ever. Instead of acting like nothing and then pretending to be so all knowing about everything. I want to punch you in the face every time I see you throw your relationship advice in everyone's face when you spent years refusing to deal with us. Take your own advice. You break hearts.

I wish we could have stayed friends even though we were the most dramatic couple. I loved our arguing even though it was the most unhealthy relationship I could imagine. You ruined music for me for years because I didn't know how to seperate it from you. I wish I could have seen your band, but I heard you had angry songs about your ex and that broke my heart. 

I wish you and you and you knew that I loved you with my whole heart but I just didn't think your lover was good enough for you and it made me feel so frustrated as I thought you were settling. Sorry I ruined friendships with my lack of honest support.

And you. You were manipulative in every way. And I entirely believe you still are. With your reconnecting message reminding me that you never cared about anyone except for yourself. 

We all break hearts some times. And sometimes I want to break faces. But I don't. So subconscious, leave me alone. Let me move on. Let me take on my own heart for once. 

The Fight Was Fixed From The Start

The chills work their way through my body. Almost with an aching sensation. Is it the fact that I am waiting to see the dentist or just that I have slowed down enough to actually notice myself. It's been another long day. Draining. And worrisome. Sometimes I wonder if I care too much. But if I didn't give my heart to some of these clients then I wouldn't be giving them what they need. 

If only I was diligent with my own needs. My road to hell is so continually paved with good intentions. Plans so well thought and placed and entirely not executed. And I finally am at a place where I realize there are no excuses. I just need to do better. To put the work in needed to achieve my goals.

So I have one month. One month to get on track. Then the training begins. I think I am actually mentally decided that I want to go in the ring this year. I am terrified and the insecurities are raging but I think I need this. I need to be able to win a fight and prove to myself I can do this. To feel that strength on an outward level. So one month until training resumes for the new season. One month to prove to myself that I can get in the ring this season. 

I Won't Scream In My Head And Let It Isolate Me

It is comforting to know we are all a little messed up. That I am not the only one that has days where I wake up and realize I hate myself. Or that others also get so trapped in their thoughts it's hard to find a way out. 

My own thoughts have seemed like a devil I can't defeat lately. I suppose I know my own insecurities more than anyone else so of course it's easy for me to use them against myself. And I am pretty sure I just haven't been making the time to process my thoughts so they are overtaking me and screaming in my head. Over and over. 

Lately it's been two solid trains of thought. Completely seperate yet hoping to collide. Train one reminds me that I need to be more dedicated to exercise if I want to box this year and because I am feeling pretty bummed about my size yet I can't seem to stay motivated enough to change it. Which is even more disheartening. Train two has realized that having babies is actually something that has potential in my nearer future and that is horrifying. One of the only things I have been sure of is that I will be a great mum and now that it could be close I am absolutely terrified. I don't know who I am becoming.

I just want to feel like I am back on track. Like I am that girl that can just write and listen to music and exercise draw and feel super cool. Instead I am feeling old and out of shape and like a train wreck. Like my trains have already collided. 

I just need to scream and start making changes. I can be better than this. 

The City Calls To Her This Is Your Chance This Is Your Freedom

I was sure I had learned to reframe. To be more accepting. But it is different when things are in your control and you realize that you are quite likely responsible. I am not sure if I wanted it too much, or if I was too stubborn or if I just wanted to feel something. Or maybe it is all in my head. 

It's been a few days past 5 months. Things were fine. I was trying to move on and be less afraid of what I couldn't remember and just to live. I worked. I worked out. I played. And now here I am. The headaches are back. And is it because I chose boxing and have been hit in the head more times than I would ever admit? Or it is because I am stressed? Or it is because I have just worked myself up to think I have headaches because I want an excuse? I am not sure. But I am sure I didn't want the sensitivity. The spot I assume I hit aches again. And by aches I mean it's like a knife any time something touches my head. Or when I am doing nothing. It is back to that sharp random pain that makes me cringe. I have two days until my next class. I don't want to be a quitter. I don't want to bail on class because I feel less than perfect. But I also am starting to worry that getting hit is actually making things worse. 

And in the end none of this explains the moodiness or the constant turmoil my stomach has become. Food looks amazing. And smells amazing. But it only seems to take minutes before the aching begins. And the murder dreams started again last night. This is all too familiar. And yet new. It's like my body is reminding me that I hate myself. That I am pretending to be someone I am not. 

I am falling apart. 

I Never Asked To Be The One

I feel like I have lost myself. As if I am someone I miss. It feels like a tragic thought. But I don't think that makes it less true. Life is swallowing me up. 

I didn't imagine any of this. I didn't plan for it. Or hope for it. And maybe I don't hate it. But I didn't ask to be the one. I didn't ask to feel so integral. To have a leadership roll. To be in charge of things. I am too new. Too young. Too insecure for this. How am I trusted to interview people? To make decisions about futures? To organize a team?

It is exhausting. And stressful and my days feel long. And my temper feels short. I am so tired. I just was not prepared for this. I didn't think my first career position would become so invoked so quickly. And as much as I love it, it may be drowning me. If I could just set better boundaries and only work my hours and be less invested it would be perfect. And a job. Not a career. I just am not adjusting as well as I would have hoped for myself. 

I need some time. To find some strength. To find myself. To figure out what I have become and where I am going. I just want to find myself again. I think I was just becoming happy with who I was right before I left myself alone in the woods to be lost in a maze with no light to follow home. 

End of an Error

Tomorrow marks the passing of another year. The more you think about it the weirder it seems. We choose one day and mark it as an aging process even though that is happening constantly. I am no different tomorrow than I am today or today than I was yesterday. At least no different that daily changes. Saying I am twenty seven won't mean I am anything different than twenty six. It is just a number. But I am selfish and like people saying how cool I am and buying me gifts. So I go along with it and eat the heck out of the junk put in front of me. So I figure if I so easily participate in the commercialism I should at least try and reflect. So here it is. Thoughts from my twenty six year old mind.

- as hard as it is mentally to buy clothes a size bigger than what you think should be your constant it is okay. I just bought shorts a size bigger and they fit perfect! No lying hips, no wondering if my stomach is too apparent. And the thing that I was caught up on was the fact I wasn't getting far, I was getting fit so why should I have to go up? Hello muscle. And butt. So really, it's freeing not caring about sizes. Just buy what fits. Screw the number. Numbers shouldn't have such a hold on us anyways.

- getting away from life just to be with your other is the best thing you can do. Some times life just needs to be put on hold so you can just remember why you are each other's others.

- sometimes you just have to toughen up.

-being pretty is the hardest thing ever. So when you find things that work stick with them and when you are having a bad day it's okay to put on sweats and avoid mirrors. 

- I am hilarious. I don't even care if no one else agrees. Tonight I was laughing so hard at a thought in my head I was crying through my laughter and my mother asked me if I needed to excuse myself from my own present opening. I am sorry, sometimes I am just so funny.

- when you get to be this old and are married everyone asks when you are having kids. It is no ones damn business. So the best option is to always lie and say you are pregnant. And then if they congratulate you, you chastise them for thinking you are fat. This will teach people to stop asking. When I choose to create humans you will not be the first to know. Thanks for assuming. 

- a career can be a life changer. I never assumed that I could work somewhere and that it could be so much of my life. I love it. I breathe it. And I am not ready to give that all up. I am good at what I do and I want to enjoy that for awhile. Doing what you love changes every single thing. I am sorry for the people that suffered at the expense of being my friend in all those years before I had a career. I am much more awesome now. 

- it is okay to let go. Of people. Of old things. Of love. Of memories. I used to think I had to hold on to every little thing because it was part of me. I didn't hoard by any means. Or maybe I did emotionally. But I am learning to let go. I don't need to remember the times you walked away from me. Or the times I selfishly walked on hearts. I am who I am at this moment because of my past but it can stay the past. I don't need to be brought down life is hard enough. So I have been learning to cut cords and walk away as the bridges fall into the water.

- words soothe me. Music. Writing. Reading. It is what I crave. What I need. It feels like it gives me breathe. And I can't forget that.

- lastly, as I am hungry and tired. I cannot be someone else. I think I try it all the time. I just need to be me. And sometimes that means accepting I am

Not 23. Or that it is not 2003 and that not everyone listens to tbs or thinks enough music is where it is at. I am actually pretty weird and getting older and an adult with a job and a house and a life and I just need to be me and embrace all that. 

Twenty seven is going to be a ride.

Non Resolutions

I don't resolve. I don't sit there as the New Years rings in making resolutions that will only be forgotten. I don't post articles and comments to create the facade that I am perfect or keeping my life in order. But I am trying. I decided this year I would come to understand my pain and find the healthiest way to cope with it so that I can be a mother. I decided to make a change. I have attended appointments and committed to learning and changing. And for the first time I am realizing I have changed.

As the hours passed at work yesterday the misery settled in further. My eyes ached and watered, my chest was tight, the sinuses were congested, and my whole body ached. I knew I was out of sick time. Thank you accident. So I had a choice to make. I try to never be be one calling in sick. But I knew it was better to plan ahead than to last minute create chaos. So I planned with the higher ups for a sick day. I helped rearrange calendars and ensured my day of rest would affect as few people as possible. 

I stocked up on vitamin c and orange juice and eye drops and nasal spray. I curled up into bed early and allowed myself to sleep in. There was slight guilt over the time off as I awoke still feeling human. And then it began. The cold was something I could survive even with my allergy to any medications that could help. But the pain began. It was the same pain that sent me to the emergency room 6 months ago. Yet I knew that this would not be the case today. I had already arranged my sick day which was a huge unforeseen blessing. I sat in a hot bath. I took painkillersand placed   hot packs on my devil organ.  I recognized the pain was not a consequence, just a fact. That I needed to logically follow all self management strategies known and then let it take its course. And then I realized I had changed. I reached acceptance. I had reframed the thoughts on pain. I had realized that this was just a small part of my life and wasn't the definition of me. 

I may not make lists of goals I will never achieve. But I think today was just a little reminder to myself that I have grown up. And am finally taking care of myself. All it took was me realizing how hard becoming and mother could be for me and that I want to give myself the best chance at if. And some times that means slowing down and letting my body sort itself out. Hopefully one day all this pays off with a tiny human.

Questions Asked That You Don't Want To Hear

"Are you happy?"

The words stared back from the screen. Why would you ask that? Why would that be your first deep question when we were just talking about the weekend. About your life. It hurt. It felt like a knife coming in near the heart. And only because you wouldn't have asked if you thought I was happy. I hated that you noticed. That you asked. That you asking, made the flaws keeping me down even more apparent. 

Words spilled. Words I wanted so badly to stay in the jar. To stay close to my soul.  I started to recognize why things were falling apart internally. It's May. Just days between your birthday and the day you left us. Just a short time time away from what marks 5 years. Five years. It sounds like an eternity and yet in these moments, the scars feel so fresh.

The answer couldn't have been a yes and be true. I knew internally I was shattered. My insecurities have been mounting. The recognition that people always leave and my ability to try and pull away and leave first. Noticing my guarding and selfish thoughts in an attempt to protect myself from the enemy. Unfortunately, it's hard to guard yourself from yourself. So the truth had to be no. 

I am feeling so unaffected. My affect is flat. I don't feel happy and I know it. And I don't know how I am going to fix this. But I think you asking is a start as it made me realize that something is very wrong. That I can't keep living like this. 

My One Chance at a Bachelor Date, And I Will Never Remember It

I have wanted to write these words since the day I started remembering. But it turns out it is really hard to write about the few memories I have with the memory loss. But I want to piece it together, for my own peace of mind. It is like I want to will the memories back by writing it down. I need to accept that is not true. But my heart just wants to hope.

Rewind to February 20. After 10 years of friendship Hoser and I were about to embark on our first road trip. Our relationship was going international. I now remember that we had actually been planning this for ages. We arranged to go to the cabin in Montana for a weekend in February and a weekend in March. We planned to snowboard/ski/relax/shop. It was just a chance for us to catch up and have girl time and just do whatever. I was stoked. 

I came home from work and she arrived quickly. We tossed our crap in the back of a Rouge and I said goodbye to Jeff. I remember us laughing about how oddly dusty her ski stuff was but that it didnt matter since it hadnt snowed in ages. We stopped for subway in Cardston and decided to drive and eat which mean I spilled a ton on myself. I think the roads got pretty crappy after that. The border was quick and the drive seemed slow as the roads were barely visible. I remember taking a turn at Big Fork and just missing the cabin but then getting there without too much trouble. The hardest part was figuring out the door lock. I assume we went straight to bed as it must have been almost midnight but I have no idea what we talked about on the drive.

Saturday. I know we went for breakfast at Homestead and went to Target and got the mail, and bought coasters for her dad. I think we drove up to the mountain before dinner to see if there was enough snow to go before we drove home. We had dinner at Tamarack and I think we tried to watch a show but couldnt figure out the TV so went to bed.

The end. Of my memory. I dont remember waking up, or putting the sheets in the wash, or getting ready or loading up the car. I dont remember driving to the mountain, or parking or pulling out my stuff. I have a vague memory of paying for a pass but it could just be because I saw a pass on my clothes. I dont remember the 5 runs we had. Or the conditions. I dont remember if I was sucking or nailing it. 

I am told that we were on about the 6th run. I had told Hoser to go ahead as she was skiing and faster than I was. She heard a scream and took off her skis and started to hike back up. She found me carrying my board walking. I didnt know where I was, what had happened or anything, other than who she was. My helmet was cracked. Apparently I thought I was going to be sick frequently and no one was passing us so we had to hike all the way down the mountain. Turns out walking down a mountain with a snowboard and a girl that doesnt have any clue whats going on is quite time consuming and difficult. I know even less about what took place over the next 24 hours. Apparently someone checked me out and they called a helicopter. 

I FLEW IN A FREAKING HELICOPTER AND WILL NEVER REMEMBER IT.

I am clearly not over this.

They made Hoser drive my car to the hospital so she was pretty bummed that she didnt get to join me in the helicopter. Apparently I was at the hospital for quite some time. I have a vague memory of trying to strip as I didnt recognize the clothes I was wearing and hated them. ( It should be noted that I had to get rid of the sweater I was wearing because it brought up immense amounts of hatred when I saw it after the accident.) I also remember seeing my brother in law and talking about some girl he had seen previously. Apparently I think she is a slut and told the whole hospital that. Turns out I am quite funny and dramatic when I have no idea what is going on. I was very stuck on the point that having a brain injury was hilarious for me as I work in a brain injury clinic. So true. I also was confused as to whether or not I was pregnant and if I was still married since I didnt have my ring on. ( I would never wear my ring snowboarding but apparently that was not reassuring) I guess they did a CT scan and it was clear. Jeff was called. He drove all the way down.

Hoser says I cried the whole way home from the hospital when they finally let me go. Poor Hoser, she hates tears. I do know that eventually she found scrubs online for me to watch but then Jeff came and took it away. I was very upset at that point. I guess he called Lindsay the physio I work with and she said no screens for the first day haha. I didnt care. I needed to watch scrubs! And I kept trying to find my phone. It was a good thing they took it away because the texts I found that I had sent were not ideal. I just kept texting people letting them know I didnt know what was going on and why my head and butt hurt so much and how I got to Montana. I had no clue about anything.

My memory starts to come back on Monday. I woke up in my in-laws room which was confusing as i had never been in there before. I remember waking up and not knowing the year, or the month, or where my ring was, or where all of my hair went ( I had cut 12-13 inches off two months prior). I remember being terrified. Hoser was gone and I couldnt figure out how she could have left ( she took my car home as she had to work), and I kept finding the things I bought and having no memory of buying any of it! Jeff got me out to breakfast and when I asked the waitress if I had been there two days before with Hoser, I was trying so hard to piece together the weeekend, she didnt know as she wasnt working then. I started to cry. How could she not know! Monday was very difficult. I spent the day, and the drive home looping. I kept asking what happened. How my body hurt so much. Why didnt I buy more starburst candies? Why werent we home yet? Did I have a job? What was going to happen with me missing work? Did Hoser have a boyfriend? Why did I buy that ugly sweater? Why did my brother in law like that girl I hated?

Jeff says it took us twice as long to get home as I kept feeling nauseous. I dont remember that. The next few days were when I started to remember actually planning the trip and parts of it. It was still hard though. Acknowledging I couldnt go to work quite yet. That I was exhausted and so sore and stressed. And then starting to come to terms with the fact I would likely never remember anything.

As the bills started to come in the mail it felt real. Before that, sure I had the pain, but there was nothing tangible saying that I was hurt. There didnt seem to be proof. Other than the hospital band I woke up to on my wrist. 

Its been almost 9 weeks. And honestly, I didnt tell a lot of people what happened. Family and some close friends new but it seemed to be stressful so it felt easier to pretend it didnt happen. To just try and move on. But as I sit here and write I still feel the aching. I long to remember. To just be able to articulate my experiences. To know what it was like to be in a helicopter. Instead, I sit here trying to write the memories I have been told and the patches I remember and realize that all I will remember are these killer headaches and how terrifying it was to wake up with no clue what was going on. So here it is.

I had my one chance to ride in a helicopter across the beautiful mountains of Montana , just like a crazy bachelor date, and I will never remember it. 

Your words of insincerity

Fuck you.

I rarely swear but this time the urge is too strong. Are you kidding me. It's been five years since the last form of communication. I would guess it's been 7 or 8 since anything and that whole time you used me as a placeholder. I was the girl that you liked when you felt lonely, or were insecure or the one you ran to after breakups. I was never the one. I wasn't the one who you ever gave anything up for, I was the one you gave up for anything. 

So you have no right to now say that you miss me and adore me and have aways cared. I am unsure if you ever knew enough about me to have cared. I have a life now. I have love now. I have someone who loves me and waited for me for years. Someone who would actually put me first. And you have a family. So do not think for a second you can say anything. Do not try and apologize because you think your words are anything more than transparent and that they will some how change anything. 

I am not a placeholder. I am not going to wonder if you ever loved me. If you ever even knew the hell that was my life at that period. Or if you ever realized that my self esteem was so low that I didn't know how to walk away from being walked over. I am not her any more. And I never deserved that. And you never deserved me.

So fuck you for trying to step into my happiness.

Airplane bathrooms, complete mortification and overcoming escalators.

There are a few things that you need to know about me before I share my own personal hell.

1. The last time I used an airplane bathroom was 5 years ago flying from London to Brisbane. I only did this as I had to vomit. Otherwise I am terrified by airplane bathrooms and can last 14 hours on a plane without requiring one.

2. I am a control freak.

3. I get very stressed when I let someone down.

4. I am embarassed very easily.

5. I find taking cabs to be stressful and I am likely the most awkward cab passenger. 

Now to the heart of it all. It was a beautiful warm night, the ocean breeze was palpable as we took one last wak along the wharf. Reality had set in and I had to head back to the hotel to grab my bags and go to the airport. We said goodbye and I took a cab, alone, to the airport. I felt the usual stress of getting there late as traffic only seemed to grow. And then I focused on the exorbitant cost of cab rides and finally we arrived.

No lines. I got my boarding pass immediately. I walked through security. It was like the world knew I needed a relaxing trip home.

Then it began. My stomach started aching but this was still in the realm of normal. So I pulled out some sweat pants and changed, reminding myself it was a red eye so it didn't matter how ghetto I looked. 

I boarded and a kind man helped me shove my bag in the overhead bin and I sat down, prepared for a nap. The girl in the seat next to me debated for awhile and then finally asked if I would switch seats so she could sit with her partner. Of course. We have all been there. I awkwardly moved and met the man sitting next to me. This seems like it's about when it all turned for the worst.

He opened some food which normally would have been a glorious sensation to my nostrils but this time it seemed to only increase the nausea. I felt warm. The hoodie came off. I sipped water. I changed positions a dozen times. Then I knew.

I awkwardly got up and was grateful to be near the back of the plane. I knew we were to take off any minute but it couldn't wait. And at least at this time the bathroom would be free. It wasn't. One of the flight attendants had it occupied which lead to me vomiting three times on the floor. Loudly. Messily. Everywhere. 

The other flight attendant was calm, reassuring and relaxed. She found me tissues. She helped me into the bathroom when it was free and got me water. She called someone to clean and got me gingerale before I went back to my seat. Face red, feeling of vomit, and tears welling. The passengers did not look happy.

The flight was delayed as they cleaned up, meanwhile the nice flight attendant was subtly verifying that I didn't have Ebola. The man next to me made Ebola jokes and kindly tried to take away my embarrassment with stories and banter.

Then it came back. At least this time I made it to the dreaded bathroom to face my fears again. It kept coming. I cried. She knocked softly and I told her I would leave. She helped me find my bag as my seat neighbor pulled it down and wished me luck and I walked past the whole plane, smelling of vomit with a face of tears. Sorry guys, I delayed your flight and hour and then left after I vomited enough to ruin your flight.

The cab ride back to the hotel was long and stressful but I was grateful my husband was still there. The ensuing 5 hours of living in the bathroom with the dreaded seat lid that attacked both my hands and face was almost better than the pure embarrassment I was still feeling. Sleep was rare. My poor husband went out for gravol and kindly offered words of support.

The next morning I had to try it all again. A third cab, alone, to the airport. I sat in silence. I silently waited for the plane an avoided all eye contact. It was as if they would all know I was that girl. No one knew. Except for me. I safely made it home where I was so grateful to be alone.

The moral of this story is that your biggest fears will nearly kill you. Nearly. And that I am now the worst person to fly with. Thank you stomach flu.

Bones Chill

This place is too familiar. It used to be the children's hospital. A place I spent far too much of my childhood in. Then it became  a hospital clinic. I set up offices here and transitioned doctors to this location before I moved away. And now I sit in a room that is new to me, a place I have never really sat but it feels too much the same as well as creating a sense of mistake. I shouldn't be here. I am too healthy. I drove myself here. I work full time. I am not sick enough to need to sit in a chronic pain clinic. I am fine. How did I end up here? 

Sometimes it feels like it's in my head. Lie the pain doesn't exist. And then in my worst moments when I am crying on the floor just praying for relief I remember it is real. It isn't constant. It doesn't control my life. But it is real. I am here. Looking for answers that may not exist. Looking for hope that if I make changes that I will still survive. 

The familiarity is becoming bone chilling. Or perhaps it is just drafty. Either way I am becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I came early and am praying it doesn't start late. I just want to get this over with. Get back to work. Move on with my day. 

I struggle to acknowledge my reality when faced with it. To accept the truth about pain and children and my future. Part of my soul just wants to believe if I just ignore this it will be fine. That the pinball be bearable and that offspring will come in the natural sense without a year or agony. I just want to believe in something else because sometimes this truth is too cutting. Maybe I was meant to find a fulfilling job so the other gaps wouldn't hurt so much. Or maybe I am borrowing trouble.

The Desperation of A College Girl Wanting A Boy to Call, Except Eight Years Later and Its Not Love That Is Supposed To Call

I feel like I am back in my early years of university, or even high school. Watching my phone, waiting for it to ring. Wondering if he actually likes me enough to call. Did I make a good impression, was I everything I needed to be? Every possible moment a glance is stolen towards the phone. I cant miss it. I bring it everywhere. I need this call. I cant breathe until it comes. I need to be the one.

I read the book He's Just Not That Into it back in high school with my bff Hoser. Her and I laughed over it and how true so much was many times, we watched the movie together and shared even more thoughts. We had both been THAT girl before. Mostly me though. She is cooler than I am. Right now I feel like breaking all those rules, calling incessantly until I get the right person and response. Stalking them. Having someone else call to say how amazing I am, thats what friends are for right? I have all of those thoughts screaming in my head, telling me to just be that kind of crazy person. It is the only option.

I thought once I was married this would all go away. Apparently insecurity just finds new outlets. This does not make me happy.

I have reached the point where I am positive this is a form of psychological torture. They know how much I want it, how much I live for this call, so they dangle it. Just like a boy saying he will call. Oh I will call you. How do you know when its true? I have met boys I thought would never call and they did, and ones that always used their charm to let you know you were the one just so they could string you along and screw you over every chance they had. Is this what is happening? Is this all just a game?

In case it hasnt become apparent yet, I am going out of my mind. I cannot handle this. If I could I would just leave my office for the gym for the rest of the work day to try and take my mind off of this. Why do I have to be stuck in an office with far too few distractions? I cannot handle this. I am going inasne! I am trying to will my phone to ring. I may really be losing it. I feel desperate. I want to reach for desperate measures. I have that crazed look in my eyes. I am just like the girl I was 8 years ago, wanting so desperately to be wanted, to be loved. Eight years is only long enough to change every single thing and yet nothing at all.  Hopefully this lack of a call isnt enough to stunt my next eight years of growth and non growth.

Being human is hard.

Speaking Words of Wisdom, Let It Be

I am not patient. I do not like to wait. I work for things so I can have them immediately. I appreciated instant gratification. I am not one that can "let it be". I feel an insane amount of anxiety when waiting for an answer. Waiting for a call. Waiting for a decision not in my hands. I want the answers now. I am ready now. At least I think I am.

A new friend and I found ourselves in a precarious situation on Friday. We had committed our hearts and journeys to a this new job. We had shared our fears and excitements and many words of faith and encouragement. We discussed taking that first step into something so much bigger than ourselves. And then it was gone. The project was not underway when it should have been. It was postponed. To a time beyond our capabilities for financial stability. I panicked. She reminded me that this had only opened us up to possibilities we would have missed otherwise. She is an inspiration.

I am trying to hard to let things be. To methodically search for a new opportunity. To get up earlier to do yoga to try and calm my mind for the day. To put myself in a position where I am ready for an opportunity. But my reality is that I may be out of a job for the first time in my life. I could beg to stay where I am. In a place where I am unhappy and not bringing my all. All in knowing how unfair I would be to the people who have applied for my job and have interviews arranged. Recognizing I would only be here, hopefully, for the briefest of times. I have never known what it means to need a job. I have wanted plenty but never felt such a need. This is new. And not pleasurable.

I am not even pregnant. I cannot just stay home and sleep all day. I must work. I must work through this. I am learning lessons I have long since avoided. I am going to learn to make peace with Gods plan and to let my tapestry unfold the way the witches in Hercules are making it. I must learn to have greater faith. I am stepping off this cliff.

But You See For Now, I Got My Own Things

Do you feel the weight of the world singing sorrow, or to you is it just not real? Cause you got your own things. Yeah, we all have our things I guess.

I wrote words about specifics. About the reasons I feel like I am suffocating and cannot find air. And then I realized it didnt matter. We all have our things. I am just a bit hung up in my own stuff right now. I feel trapped. Sometimes it feels like my degrees are not real. Like Australia never happened. I have been gone for so long and stuck doing nothing useful for a period of time so infinite that even I begin to wonder. And perhaps this is just all catching up in this moment. As I watch people I love having babies, and about to have babies and working in their careers and travelling and doing all of the things I want to be doing. And here I am in stagnant waters. Watching the water rise without being able to move.

I have always wanted to be something. Someone. And these days I look in the mirror and realize I am just here, stuck. Stuck with hair that makes me mental and wanting to change it but feeling the pressure not to. Stuck in a job that so literally is killing my soul and yet all of my attempts to escape seem thwarted. Feeling the pressures of loans and real life and knowing I cannot just escape. I am letting myself down. And it is taking a toll.

I just want to get out of this bog and become the grazing antelope that draws the attention of the other animals with its beauty and strength. I want to be excited and overzealous to share about my life, not frustrated and ashamed. I just want to this weight of the world to adjust to a more tolerable level long enough to let me regroup.

Your Lipstick, His Collar, Dont Bother Angel

I had a perpetual list. It was re-occurring and never ending. I was continually trying to remind myself what I was looking for. What was important. What qualities matter. A list that I would ignore more blatantly than expected. I knew what I wanted but I never went for it. Perhaps I didnt want something real. I chose people with qualities I surely did not want in order to give myself an out.

Now that I am old and married I look back at those necessities. Some things were a given. Religion. Respect. Male. And some seemed less important to others, like sharing the same taste in music. This one seems less relevant. It is the most relevant.

My writing has always had a strong basis in lyrics. Lyrics often missed. Gone unnoticed and unacknowledged. And I spent a long time trying to convince myself it would be okay if my partner didnt know Houston Calls and TBS. If they would never want to listen to my music or go to the concerts I lived for. I was wrong. 

Last night we went to see TBS and The Used. Bands from our High School Era. Their beginnings in our lives was monumental, they shaped our memories. Their disputes fueled my passion. I had a playlist devoted to the songs that John, Adam and Jesse wrote about each other. Their angst provided songs for my "I Hate You" mix cds. So as John was on stage near Adam my husband and I discussed how John came and went and the fires fueled. We related to the days of Straylight Run while John was on his own. And we sang our hearts out. He didnt just accept how important the concert was for me, he shared in it. He held my hand and bought me a band shirt and thrived with me.

Lists often include qualities that are unrealistic. We paint pictures of partners that are impossible to find. Yet when we find the one we realized what really did matter. Sharing the same taste in music really did matter to me. 

I never said I'd take this lying down.

I Saw The Beauty In Your Soul, The Way You Are

Overjoyed. The step was smaller than a babies. Tiny. Just a movement but perhaps it meant everything. I was feeling again.

I have been so caught up for nearly two years. Exams. Stress. Trying to get somewhere that seemed impossible. Then the moment the door opened and I could work there was nothing. It was as if I opened a long anticipated door only to find an empty room. The jobs I had convinced myself I wanted were not what I wanted. The jobs I now wanted didnt seem to exist. I was trapped. My eggs had been thrown over the fence into this empty room. Maybe I had been hoping for something that wasnt real. Perhaps all of this time had made me realize I didnt want this.

Until yesterday. I finally had that feeling again. I felt like myself. I felt alive. It was as if I had been suffocating for so long that I forgot what air felt like and then all of a sudden there was oxygen. My life was back. I want this more than almost anything. This interview could be the rest of my life. A real interview. I passed the screening, they want to see me, to meet me. This is my chance. Five more sleeps until a day that could change my life.

I forgot how beautiful I can be when I am happy. When I feel passion for something. My dream job is close enough I can breathe it. I need this.

I Can Be Everything You Ever Wanted, If You Can Be What I Always Wanted

I wanted to write that the anticipation was building. The truth is that the build up was of anxiety. A time frame closing in. I said I was leaving, I cannot stay. I do not want to stay. I must step away. Yet I dont have a date. a closing time. I need one. I need to close this chapter. To finally lay it to rest. Since 2005. The seniority. The label. A lot has happened, most of which I want to shelf. This place did not make me who I was. I survived this place.

All of those thoughts swirling as I waited for the interview. The forty minutes of questioning was painful. I became acutely aware of my lack of knowledge. I was not the right fit. I felt no joy. It was robotic. I answered the best I good and the only emotions that rose were flusterings and frustrations with inadequate responses. I left not wanting to be called back because how could I say no? Could I?

This morning a missed call started hours of telephone tag. It culminated in a telephone screening. Somewhere new. A dream. The call was a mere ten minutes. The excitement rose with each question and statement. I felt confident. I was told I would get a call later on ( likely days away I am anticipating) to set up a proper interview. Stage one feels complete. I want this. I crave it. This is the dream, the penultimate. What you aspire towards. This is the door I have been desperately searching for. Now to pray it doesnt close on me.

I struggle to show excitement for what I dont want. I feel resentment here. I  need to leave, for my mental health. This door could be the rest of my life. Please call me back. Please make that short list short so I have a real chance. I can be everything you ever wanted.

Rings Of Marriage

As he sat on my lap in church he reached for my ring and said "you got married Lauren". Yes sweetie, I did get married. " You got married to Jeff." Yes I did. " He looks over at Jeff and points to his ring, " Jeff you got married." His sister chimes in, "we were at their wedding, remember." The rest of the afternoon he was telling Jeff that he got married but had seemed to forget that I was married and denied me being married to Jeff.

It was a weekend full of children. My two little ones came for a sleepover. They seem to be growing so fast. I was worried Jeff would be overwhelmed with all of the children time. I let him sleep while I got up and made them breakfast Sunday morning but after that Jeff played with them as if they were ours. It amazes me how natural it comes. I think he worries too much about what it will be like to have our kids. But he will be amazing. Although it was exhausting. After I took them home Sunday arvo we napped. Maybe we really arent that ready. Kids are exhausting, but loving. The simplest things make them happy and they make me so overjoyed. But perhaps the best part was just seeing how natural my husband is with kids, how calmly he can pick them up and through them over a shoulder, or let them snuggle in on the couch as he tries to reply to emails.

We got married.

She Was Mine When She Was Here, But I Think She Has Always Been Yours

I glanced at the clock as I drove. Traffic had been light, I was going to much too early to dinner. I then wondered if anyone else would be early. There was a chance. I knew I was close. The map said less than ten minutes. As I began to exit I realized I was so close to her grave. If I went the opposite direction from what my map said I would be with her in minutes. I merged the opposite way. I had the time and it had been a few months. I crossed my legs and let my head cock to the side as I brushed the stone. Noticing our flowers were long gone. If only I had planned ahead and brought some. Perhaps when I am down that way this weekend. I read the few words and dates over and over. I began to talk. I teared up as I told her about how much has changed. About how I wished she was here. I ached. I explained how the other kids are coming this weekend and how she would have loved them. The girls would be just months apart. Seven. They would have loved each other, I am sure of it. I told her that I thought so. I cried. I shared thoughts of love and finally said goodbye promising that I thought of her everyday.

Only two of us go, that I know of. Perhaps those blood related go. I dont know. I told you about it as we sat in your car after dinner. Of how much I missed her and how she needs more flowers. In your motherly way you looked at me and told me how she was yours when she was with us. You loved her as a daughter, but somehow you always knew she was my baby. I sure love her as if she was mine. I miss those hours together in the hospital. It wasnt long enough. No time would have been long enough. I will be back soon. I promise. I love you.

A Babyless Womb

Eleven months, no wonder the questions come. It all came to a moment of utter acknowledgement that only a few people in the universe understand. Trying to have children for me isnt just trying to have children. It is going off the medication that actually controls the pain. It means for the whole time I try and conceive I will be in excruciating pain. That I will be mind numbingly tired. That taking T3's will be like taking candy in the slightest effort to dull the stabbing pain. I cant just say I should have kids and go for it. I have to calculate, I have to be in  a place where I am able to be be in constant pain. I cant be studying for hopefully the last exam of my life. Or searching for a job. I almost need to have it be a point where I can just live in the bath and at acupuncture, two of the only things that actually take the ache away temporarily. I understand, we have been married for nearly a year and for some people that indicates we should be awaiting a child. I get it. I understand that it can take ages so procrastination seems like wasted time. But you dont understand. I am not like everyone else. My body has demands, demands met by hormones. I am not ready to live in a world of pain until a miracle happens. I am okay right now. I am better than usual. Functioning. Keeping the pain at minimum. I cannot ruin that because other people think I should be getting pregnant.

I am not the same as everyone else. You havent seen me without the miracle hormones. You have not had to sit with me day in and day out as I cried in pain. You have not had to hold my hand in the doctors office after yet another procedure resulting in pain so extreme that I vomit. You haven't been there. You haven't seen me at my worst.

So stop assuming I should be having kids now. Stop thinking I am wasting precious childbearing time. I am taking care of myself, of the challenges that need to happen and be overcome before I can submit to the sickness that will envelop  me the moment I start trying to have a child. I am not you. My journey will not be the same as yours. So wait patiently. I want babies one day. Physically I am just not ready yet. So please wait without judgement.

I Want You To Want Me

What do you do when it feels like your dreams are on the verge of possibility and you realize those are no longer the dreams you want?

Time passes, perceptions are altered and all of a sudden the jobs I thought would be ideal are ones I now feel hesitant to even consider. I no longer want to be in this organization. I need a fresh start, something to call my own and I have realized I will never feel that here. I took my first role here before my 17th birthday. I have been around the block before, too many times. I know too many people. I just want somewhere that people will look at me as a physiotherapist, not as all those other roles I have filled. I am not here to do their paperwork, or filing or research. I am not here as an assistant or a fitness instructor. I want to be somewhere where I am just recognized for my professional role. I want that clean slate. So what do I do if the interview next week leads to a job? A real job? And the only option I have? How do you say yes just to know you are looking over their shoulder for something better? Can I commit to staying here longer? Or can I just hold out. Wait for what I want?

Sometimes real life reminds us that we have to compromise for what we ultimately want. Experience cannot be replaced by anything else. Experience I lack. Yet where do you draw the lines for mental sanity and the reality that I need time off at Christmas, flights are booked. I almost just want this to be a learning experience at interviewing as one of those other positions opens up. And can I really turn down that yoga job that I thought was ideal? Especially when it is so disorganized. The schedules were supposed to be in our hands Monday, it is Thursday and I still have nothing. I cant quite my job for nothing.

When did my dreams change? When did I start wanting to be in private practice? And to be on my own creating a path? When did I stop wanting to work at the hospital close to home with easy hours? When did I start thinking for myself?

I wanted to want this but I dont think I do now that I am being looked at as a candidate.

A Wordy Rant Full of Emotion and Frustration Based Off Personal Experiences of Disrespect.

I have never given respect so much thought in my entire twenty six years, 3 months and days, than I have in the last few weeks. I knew respect was important. I always tried to respect my elders. I began to learn to respect myself. But I never thought about others respecting me. This realization and desire for respect has been as double edged as any double edged sword. It has been so enlightening and has helped me love myself to an extent I was not aware of. It has also shaken my core with realizations that others do not hold respect, or more likely respect me, in the regard I do.

I should preface this with the fact that I do not live in the city. I live in a smaller city. This results in a commute to everything.

Last month or so, I had an interview. The commute was short and only 30 minutes each way. I had a lot going on that week but was excited for the opportunity so put my life on hold to make this interview work. The problem was that the interviewer never showed up. I asked at the desk several times and they kept reassuring me that I was best to wait. I waited over an hour. Commuted thirty minutes home. Two hours were gone for nothing. No notice that my interview was not happening. Nothing. I felt enraged when I got home. How could someone care so little about my time to not even let me know they were not going to make it? I emailed said interviewer the next day and eventually heard a response that something came up and ultimately they slept through the interview. An apology was made and I moved on.

However, this situation re-emerged this week. I had been feeling under the weather more so than usual so had spent the day at home. I was finally in a really good study groove but did not want to miss out on my study group so begrudgingly hopped in the car to fight rush hour traffic for the next hour to meet with the group. Being who I am, I was early and happy to sit and wait. Five o'clock emerged, no one. I waited another five minutes before sending a message. No response. Another ten minutes. I called. Study group was cancelled. How were they to know I was coming? I mean I had never missed a single study group up to that point. I had said I was coming. How would they know I wasnt tricking them? They didnt bother to let me know and felt no remorse that I had now wasted ninety minutes. I was livid. Not even an apology! As if this was my own doing! I was fortunate enough to spend the next hour commuting home in rush hour, letting my anger festinate.

Perhaps I am being dramatic. Or perhaps I just want my time to be respected. I want others to recognize that my time is as valuable as their time is. That I also have a busy life and sacrifice for meetings. That I am the one that lives out of town and that driving in rush hour is like being tortured. I just want to feel respected. And to spend my time with people that respect me, not people that do not even think of me as an after thought.

Hence, I have not heard back from said job as they are still trying to get organized and will contact me again in a few weeks. And I am looking for new study partners as I am tired of being unappreciated or recognized.

Respect is weightier than we realize. I hope to disrespect people a lot less often as I have become aware of its effects.

Beautiful, Only Slightly Mental

Appearances deceive.

On paper it sounds like a real life. It sounds more organized than it is. It sounds like a life worked for. So how come inside I feel so mental? Like a basket case. I feel unsettled. I am checking my email constantly hoping for an interview or an offer and constantly seeing nothing. Yet I am hesitant to apply for the jobs I used to think I wanted because now they seem so lackluster and prohibitive. It is as though I have seen just a glimpse of a career I could be part of and now I cant think of anything else. Everything feels so close but just out of reach all at once. I just want to take the next step. To have a career not a job. To feel like I am making a difference but also living the life I have always wanted. I want to move on but ever since the door started to open it is as if time has stopped. I am going mental in my own mind.


But everyone thought she was beautiful only slightly mental. Beautiful only temperamental.

Was This For Real? It's Hard to Tell. Cause it was such a Beautiful Mess

There is uncertainty. Everything is shifting. I would worry about the tectonic plates if I didnt know it was me. How do you feel stable when your life is coming apart around you?I put in notice, but I have no paperwork for the supposed new job. I have no official words that say when it starts. I have ideas and words spoken and unorganized thoughts shared, but that is not enough. I like stability. I wander from change and growth. So how can I just say I am leaving with no certainty? And is this even the right move? What if I could find a physiotherapy position full time? Am I passing on opportunities I am missing because of blinders? And what if I find a place but they will not accommodate Vegas or Christmas? We have plans. I had it so easy. So casual. So little expended. Why do I crave more? Thrive for something real?

Was this for real, it's hard to tell 'Cause it was such a beautiful mess we had got into

Selling Myself Like A Prostitute

Self marketing. Not a skill at the top of my resume. Yet exactly the two things being faced. I know I just need to polish this letter to cover my resume but how do you find the words to create a picture that convinces the reader that they need you when they didnt even know they needed anyone? How do you create a picture of yourself while remaining professional and not sounding desperate? 

I know I am worth taking a risk on. I know I have the skills and drive to be great at this. But convincing someone on paper seems a whole lot harder. If only I could just write them a blog post of why I should be hired instead of a cover letter. Professionalism wins out but definitely stifles creativity and self expression. 

Let's hope I dont end up being the last one waiting on the corner.

But If I Dont Break Your Heart, Then Things Will Just Get Worse

When the burden seems too much to bear, remember  the end will justify the pain it took to get us  there.

I am not good at having the conversations that no one wants to have. At saying the unsaid words that need to come out. They come out as thoughts or whispers across a space that feels large and empty. They come out as sarcasm or passing thoughts as life travels between the state of awake and asleep. Or they sit in a jar, collecting dust, taking up space knowing they will never be moved or dusted. I allow the insecurity that is me to stop my thoughts, my words.

I need to learn to voice my fears. My inhibitions. Those things that just dont seem right. And to do so without arguing. Between freshman year and now I have become an emotional human. One that speaks, lives, and breathes emotion. I cannot share my thoughts and fears and concerns like an automated report. I feel. Deeply. And because of that I struggle with my words. With sharing. With opening up. But I am finally seeing this isnt beneficial. This is only creating divides. Opening wounds instead of building bridges. I need to learn to voice the pain and frustrations to get there.

I Will Follow You Into The Dark

Ten years. I still remember the post it. Your brother had given me a list of bands to check out one time after he cut class with me and we went to taste of chaos. It worked out because I was 16 and could drive, he was still 15. The list included spill canvas, pretty girls make graces and death can for cutie, among others.

In a mere 15 minutes I will finally be seeing death cab live. Words cannot express this. I have literally waited ten years. I have been in the wrong city so many times. I nearly saw Ben Gibbard last year on his Postal Service tour, I had even driven 14 hours for it. But alas, the band fell ill and the concert was cancelled only hours before my life was to be fulfilled. This time it is happening.

The claustrophobia hangs in the back of my mind as the crowd around me draws closer. The potent smell of marijuana lingers just moments after being offered a toke. The surroundings are so familiar. I used to be young and love for shows like this. When did I become an old lady at 26? But I am here. My lungs burn and I am standing strong. This moment will not be taken.

My husband proposed as a guitarist played I will follow you into the dark. It was again played at our first dance. Death cab also spent many nights being the background as I slept and days drifting through my yoga classes. It has defined my life, lived through my best and my worst. And now we are to be together.

Thank you for letting your brother go to that concert with me even though it was weird. He enriched my life in a way no one will know. But today thank you, for giving me this.

Eight minutes until my mind is blown.

We All Got Wooden Nails

The pieces are falling, so quickly. It feels as though my life has become a tetris game except this time the pieces are falling at me and even as I sprint I cannot make them all fit. I wish I could find the pause button. The one to slow it down. I just wanted to tell one physician, but her squealing and forehead kisses of pride turned into the shouting of a need to celebrate and a small crowd of coworkers appearing. It felt awkward, I couldnt stop it. And now I am sitting waiting to tell my employer. Thinking of the new job that embarks in October but letting it be overshadowed by my need to find my ducks and line them up for an application for my real life.Everything is happening at once. My world is changing. I am terrified with undertones of ecstasy. The emotions are crashing in like waves destroying sand castles. So much is happening in every moment. I want to pause, to slow this down. To save the sandcastles that feel important but are not. To hold everything back until I am ready to cope and process. But sometimes all of this movement is coming from my mind. I can slow my thoughts down long enough to flow through my vinyasa's or watch a trashy show as I sit in the bath, but not long enough to really gain control.

This is for real.I need to start speaking it. Living it. Allowing myself to breathe in this new life without letting the waves drown me.

I am eligible for a provisional physiotherapy license. I know there is an exam in 11 weeks and 2 days. I know I have to pass for independence and the ability to practice fully. To remove the provisions. To achieve the success I have spent 8 years fighting for. But here I am, able to actually start applying for work. Eligible to actually interview, to treat patients, to breathe. I am moving on. I am about to open the door of closure.

I have been scared to say it. To admit this is happening. Too afraid to leave my safety net that I dont even like. Scared that it is all a dream. That I cant possibly be reaching the tip of the success I have yearned for. That this is only a taste of perfection to just hook me for a bit longer. All of the time waiting has mentally drained me. The failures deflated my self esteem. But this is real, I am doing it. I was good enough. I am smart enough. I was made for this. I breathe it. I am a physiotherapist.

I can win this tetris game.

I'm Stronger Than I've Been Before

I waited so long. It felt like time didnt exist any more. As if waiting had enveloped every single thing in its wake. Then suddenly it was over. I cried before it was over. Then it was over. I screamed. I danced. My husband smiled. I showered. I felt elated. I went to bed. And it was over. 

At first I thought I would scream it. Scream from the bottom of my lungs. Let the words explode out of me. And then I didnt. I kept it. Inside, sacred, special. I quietly shared with my best friends. With my family. I moved on. Somehow my husband forgot I hadnt had a chance to share with his side. So he awkwardly told them in a story about Froyo. I felt so embarrassed as they all stared and congratulated. This part was over. It is over.

Yet, all of this build up. The continued heightening of emotions as I waited and the it was just over. It wasnt how I imagined. I expected it to change everything I suppose. I was waiting for this moment to define my life. And all it defined was the many pages that needed to be filled out. It reminded me that it was time to open the books once more. That there was only 12 more weeks left. It was such a fleeting high that maybe it has not set in. Maybe I got so used to failing that I dont know how to cope with success.

Regardless, that chapter is closed. I can finally move on to the point where I get to choose my own adventure.

Canadians from Australian Lives, in Canada

You asked how the day was. All at once I realized there were not many words to describe it, yet it was a day that was almost perfect. It reawakened so much in me that felt long gone. It reminded me of a life that existed.

It has been nineteen months. So long. An eternity. And yet I had twenty five months there. A life. I had a home, jobs, uni, friends, favourite places. A real life. How do you explain that to someone that has never been there and doesn't know any of those people or places? How can you relate that life without having tangible things to show for it? It makes it feel like it wasnt sure some times. Like I never left everything I had ever known behind and just got on a plane. But I did. I cried in the airport with Kaity when I realized what was happening. When I reached the point of no return. And then I left. Everything changed in those months. I changed. I had all of these experiences that will never quite be understood by those that were not a part of it.

So having my home girl here this week has reminded me that it is real. Night one we gossiped for hours about every person we had known there, just trying to recap where everyone was now. How all of our lives had changed. We laughed about events with our two best friends. We laughed at our own stupidity. I felt alive. Another day and some has passed and it almost doesnt feel real. The release of talking about my Australian with another Canadian that was Australian with me is incredible. The realization that in these days and moments our lives are in the exact same place seems too good to be true. To have someone else awaiting results and wishing she could move back to the sunshine of Brissy just feels like I am looking at myself. Like my emotions have created another human to express themselves to me.

These days are expressed to other people in a wordless manner. I cannot explain how the day was. It was perfect. It was like reliving my life without being back there. It was perfect.

I Want To Reinvent The Heartbeat

I am very unsettled and nervous lately. Feeling anxiety that seems so musty and familiar but also unwanted. Feeling incapable of doing anything as the paralyzing state of anxiety is continually setting in. It is like watching Rigor Mortis and knowing that it cannot be stopped, it is a process of death and sleep and must pave its path before anything new can occur. I am unsure if it is more painful for me to be aware of what is happening or feeling like I am suffocating in it. I am on edge waiting for something and nothing all together. I am moody and having trouble concentrating for no reason at all, and yet maybe it is for every reason.

I want to say I am happy with who I am. I have so much. A husband, a home, a job, a job prospect that holds most of my hopes and dreams. I am fit and spiritual. I have nearly it all. But what if the one thing that I wanted almost as much as a husband, I cant have? What if this didnt work out for the third time. I already feel embarrassed, ashamed, self deflated. I cannot handle the emotions that are tied to another failure. I cannot cope. I just need this to be my success. I need this. It is beyond wanting and hoping. It feels like I need to pass as much as I need air.  I just cannot help but feel like those two years almost never happened, that I didnt achieve a professional career because I unable to use it here. To feel like I wasted 150 grand for nothing. To feel my debt swallowing me with maniacal laughter as it knows it was for nothing and yet can ruin everything.

I need this. I want to say I can feel whole and successful without this. That there are so many other things that fulfill people. But I wont say that. I need this. I need to survive the next week and see the unexpected results. See a new page. Not the same one rewritten. My hopes are so much higher than I voice. I act nonchalant. Like I am brave. Reality is that I am terrified. That this week or so until I see words online or in the mail could really give me a breath of hope and fresh air or it could push me down the rabbit hole.

I know the truth is I will survive the emotional scarring of another failure but it would take its toll. All scars do. I could just use a win about now.

The Type of Water That is Wet

The suit was tight, tighter than I remembered and the goggles were new, so unlike the ones I found in a lost and found box and used for years before they disappeared. But I was determined. Four years ago an era ended. One where I spent the majority of my non academic time srrounded by chlorine. Five solid years of chlorine. Years where the minimum weekly swim was 500 yards. And suddenly I was struggling for a mere 25 m. I somehow had let it all go. I gave up the pool life once I fell into yoga. Yoga become my extra source of income and somehow seemed an upgrade from the lifeguard years. It was new and exciting with the pay so much higher than the ten hourly dollars I knew so well. But somehow I knew it was time to return. To push my lungs and muscles somewhere they had forgotten. As much as the first 25 seemed never ending as the km mark was reached I felt energized. I knew the adrenaline had kicked in ad that I could push further but I also knew that it was the end for the night. A successful place holder until next time.

It is so easy to forget the past in that conscious way. Releasing actions and activities that seem irrelevant. Forcing ourselves to forge a new trail. Yet for me this often means losing something I once loved. Allowing time to taint enjoyment and throwing the baby out with the bath water. Perhaps it is my lack of work life balance and finding a way to make time for everything so I forgo it all as I constantly stare at a schedule that just commitment. I think I just needed that first plunge though. To feel the water engulf me and the lanes feel as familiar as all do. The reminder that I can go back. Perhaps this is the beginning of something old.

And These Are The Words You Wish You Wrote Down

It is like a time machine. It just takes a few words and I am transformed back to those moments, those emotions. I can feel the heart ache, the questioning, the feigned hope and strength as I tried to convince myself that I was strong and ready for the world. I have never wrote for any one else. I have always wrote as a medium to express myself. To try and get out the words I can never find with my voice. To help myself grow and heal. And going back and reading words from over four years ago is transforming. 

There are moments as I re read when I just want to scream at my younger self. To plead with myself to forget about boys that forgot about me long before I wrote about them. To tell myself that things would work out and that I was strong enough. To just wait a bit longer. To know that I wasnt alone. But I cant go back there. I cant convince a 22 year old that eventually marriage would happen. Or a 24 year old that the exam would be a hurdle that wouldnt be overcome for an indefinite amount of time. I can only look back and laugh, and cry and be grateful that I put down the words I did.

I am not even really sure why I stopped blogging when I got married. I think part of it was just the transition. Marriage changes so much. You are now planning a life with another human and it takes a lot of work and organization. And I think I felt so boring. What is interesting about me cleaning and cooking? Not a lot. Other than the fact I am actually really good at cooking. So I stopped writing. And there are so many words I wish I wrote down. So let this be a lesson to myself. I will always treasure the words I wrote, even the ones that in the moment I probably didnt think were worth writing.

This is the way you wish your voice sounds, handsome and smart.

Not All Dinosaurs Were Equally Dumb

Some dinosaurs were clearly dumber. I mean look at the Stegosaurus with its tiny brain in comparison to it's body. Now look at the Trodon. Clearly a specimen to admire with it's agility, innate sense of smell for hunting and its coordination. But even with these skills that seem so far out of reach for my human self it is said that those intelligent dinosaurs really were only as smart as our modern day ostriches which in turn are correlated to our D average students. And that is not me.  Thus I must be smarter than Trodons and T-Rex's, at least in theory.

 If only this knowledge actually made me feel smarter or accomplished. The past few days everyone has been asking about the dreaded exam. And when I say everyone I actually mean it. A lady that takes my pilates class asked incessantly, a coworker, my mother, my brother. Everyone that sees me is asking! I want to punch them all in the head. What part of "6-8 weeks and I have already failed before so am trying to move on an not think about another impending, heart crushing failure", do people not understand? I hate questions like that. Prying questions that people have no business asking. I feel an urge to let them know that they are so similar to the Stegosaurus, brains that leave them equivalent to ferns. To explain that I already rake the pains of failure over my open wounds incessantly and don't need other external reminders of the struggles I can't get over. 

I wonder how the Trodon's had patience for the Stegosaurus. Did they not feel frustrated at the lack of comprehension? Or did they just kill them in one fell swoop, appreciating the easy target? I need to meet with success before I cannot control my frustration any longer and end up tearing someone apart when they just think they are being considerate asking about my life.

Not all dinosaurs were equally dumb. Not all humans are equally smart. But I think we both had struggles in our own way. Maybe I just need better perspective and to realize that perhaps the Stegosaurus was happy in its complacency. That I am not as smart as I thought I was and failure was inevitable at some point. Maybe I just need to to take some time feeling like a Stegosaurus to appreciate what I had when I lived that high life of academic success. 

This Trodon surely can regain its brains somehow.

A Little Strength to Redefine

Needed some time so I could find a little strength to redefine, what I've become, what I have done. I never asked to be the one.

There isnt really a reason for it. I just have noticed that lately things have seemed more difficult for me. Strained. Frustrations are rising. Perhaps because this isnt were I wanted to be 9 years ago, let alone today. I know there should be so much gratitude for a job close to home, that  is easy and pays well. But it was always supposed to be my in between not my forever. My fall back to pay tuition. My in for a medical profession. The first rung on  my never ending ladder. And now it feels like I have never left that rung. Like the ladder towers over me wondering why I cant climb. 

The thing is, I love climbing. This past weekend I spend far too long climbing a cherry tree picking cherries. I crave that exhilaration when you are on your tippy toes knowing the cherries are out of reach and that you should fall but still having to go for it. Willing yourself not to fall. It probably didnt hurt to watch my husband watch in horror, continually asking me to come down before I got hurt. I wasnt that high. There were more cherries. I was having fun. So many childish excuses. But I felt alive. I liked watching him worry because it reminded me of how much he loved me. 

But that isnt the ladder that gives me issues. It is the bigger one. The one that holds my aspirations. I suppose that the difficulty I feel lately is mostly from the weights I keep picking up and throwing in my bag. It's like I see something to drag myself down and there I go clasping onto it for dear life. I feel the failure hanging heavy in the air, like a brewing storm. I sense some form of urgency in everything. In moving on. In organizing our home. In having children. It is as if I have to fight time. To fight the brewing storm that only exists within myself. 

I think I am at a point where I need to free myself. To let go of so much from the past. Actually, more so to accept it. The failures, the highs, the existence of it all. Perhaps Yellowcard is right, I just need some time to find the strength to redefine. I can feel my potential within I just seem to stifle it before it has a chance to be anything. Before I can become anything above the ladder rung I have come to live on.

Something has to change within. Love needs to be found for myself. I just need to start believing in myself again. To take that reach that feels just a little too far and pull onto that ladder rung that seems so impossibly far. It is time to move on. I will be someone I respect. Someone I want to tell others about. The strength is there. I just need to dig a little deeper.

I Want This To Be, My Awakening

Cuz with the morning comes the rest of my life. Cuz with the morning I can open my eyes.

I feel like I am once again at that point where the path has faded and I am left staring at the trees. So much is ahead but so little is visible. All I know is that I have to go forward. Forward into the unknown. The ground feels unsure beneath, a reminder that I have to stand on my own two feet. That it is time to be sure of myself because there is little else to be sure of. I cannot live in the comfort zone any longer. It feels like it is pushing me out. Forcing me to make these choices. To move forward. Onward. To grow, to feel that pain of growing, only overshadowed by the fear of the unknown.

I suppose I needed this more than I thought. Needed to move on. To get out. I had a plan when I moved back. I would float through exams and start my career and feel accomplished. I never imagined that those exams would become my mountains. That the accomplished feeling of success would come from marriage. And from a job I only have because one time I made a robot video and won a contest. One robot video and 4 years later and my life is entirely different than I ever imagined.

This is what I need though. To move on. To open my eyes to the realities and to take opportunities. To let go of all the self limiting beliefs I create for myself and to just be. To breathe in life, to stress less and to actually take the time to do what I love.

Not getting everything I dreamed of just might be the be the best thing that has ever happened to me.

At least you know I still care enough to write.

And I've Been Dying to Get Out and That Might Be the Death of Me

There is a suffocating feeling when I realize this is my life. Like the walls are closing in and there is no way out. Trapped in a job that is not my career without the ability to leave because of an exam I cant seem to overcome and the pure fact that this prison like facility pays me too well for me to afford freedom. I find positions I would love but half the pay is a struggle. I don't lead a life without responsibility. I have a man. Loans. A home. I cant just follow passion and forget about the bills. As much as I wish I could. And the alternative has seemed so far out of reach the past 9 months. It was supposed to be simple. Just take an exam they said. No one ever told me what failure would feel like.

I've given up on giving up slowly, I'm blending in so You won't even know me apart from this whole world that shares my fate.

That feeling when you are treading water and your muscles are cramping and you begin to sink just enough to take in the water and remind yourself that quitting is the end always seems to come the moment before reprieve. It feels like I have been living that eternal moment for a long while. Trying to keep myself going but knowing that I am near exhaustion and frustration and that reality is close. I near found reprieve a few weeks ago when I interviewed for a position in a fitness centre that I knew I would enjoy. I felt confident and like I might have found my niche, at least until my dreams came true. And then the water pulled just a little bit harder and I felt that grasping sense of despair as I realized that the pay cut was far beyond what expenses allowed. It was just like another tease of rescue as the waves curled up a little bit further.

I gotta get outta here, I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake.

As per life, the moments when I felt like I really couldn't stay on this path much longer without some sort of light to look towards the reprieve arrived. I have finally found that passionate feeling I lost a long time ago. A sense of renewal, hope and excitement. It is as if I am giddy constantly awaiting the light of October. I have joined a program for inspiring youth through yoga, meditation and self inquiry. After a day of training and coming to see the potential of this opportunity I realized this was my lifesaver. I was finally getting out and reminding myself that life isn't meant to be suffered through. That work doesn't have to be that overwhelming burden of darkness. That passion and love can be the basis for the future. 

I'm giving up on doing this alone now. Cause I've failed and I'm ready to be shown how. 

I have those inklings of fear as I realize I have a waiting period of ten weeks before everything changes. Before I give up the familiar for the unknown. That in that time I will once again find out results that have twice been negative. That my world is about to change in a way I could have never dreamed. I may be finding a way to get out that wont be the death of me. 

Cause I'm afraid that this complacency is something I can't shake. I gotta get outta here. And I'm begging you, I'm begging you, I'm begging you to be my escape.

A Fear of Escalators

March 1, 2011. I first wrote on the overcoming escalators blog explaining the purpose of it all. I wrote of how I wanted to overcome fears. To become something more and to take hard paths when they were right. How I get anxiety when faced with a lack of stairs and how I knew being scared of escalators was something ridiculous.

Fears come from experience. At least for me.When I was young, I want to say pre grade five as I remember the cute little leather shoes I wore that day, I had my shoelace caught in an escalator. The problem was solved rapidly but the fear began. Later when I was 18 my mother and older sister convinced me to run up a down escalator. I was stubborn and adamant that this was not a good idea. Peer pressure won and up I attempted to run. This resulted in a beautifully ungraceful fall and a painful escalator trail of cuts of my legs. And thus began the real fear. Escalators become a place of pain and anxiety. I often would say I preferred the stairs for fitness reasons and not that I was actually afraid. Avoidance became my behaviour only furthering my anxiety and fear when avoidance was not an option.

Later, I once found myself in Vegas, a land of many escalators. I remember clenching the rail and focusing on my breath and the plan to step of in a fashion that would not result in injury. This continued as I allowed myself to feel controlled by my fears.

I dont know how it all began or perhaps I do. But I have come to point in my life where I no longer accept that giving control away is the only option. I have watched in myself and in my loved ones the agony that comes when we allow something external to control us. Sometimes it fear, sometimes it is a human, and sometimes it is ourself. Yet the truth of it is we are allowing ourselves to submit when we have options.

I became a child of divorce in what seems like a lifetime ago and there reached a point where I had to acknowledge that I could continue to be bitter and broken or I could take control. I could no longer allow my emotions and mental health to be a pawn in the shattering I saw. I stepped away and took control for myself. It could be viewed that I should have relationships I dont and it could be said that I am unreasonable. But my reality is that I stopped allowing my fear to define me.

I will not allow my fear of escalators inhibit my life. Just as I will not allow someone else to dictate my expression of thought again. I am stronger now. I will overcome these escalators.

Begin, Again.

I have had a lot to say for a long time. Sometimes I just have a hard time finding my voice. Or my forum. My blog was my everything. And time passed and hearts were broken and dreams were crushed my and blog changed. Twice. And I regret letting go of those beginnings,, only because the reason I let go was due to the fact that my words were being used as a tool against me. To be fair no words were lost. They were just brought from one page to another. It was the principle of it all I suppose.But I am one to let loss linger. To feel like I can save things for later. Cutting ties seems so hard. And yet so easy. I cut them quicker than I like to believe. I also feel longer than I admit.

Reagardless. Here I am. Back on a page I long ago discarded. One that I thought couldn't be reused. New beginnings of an old life. So here I am.