Wednesday 30 June 2010

The Men in My Life

As I make my journey through life I need to stop every now and then to think about and thank those people who helped shape my passage and bring me joy. I love each and every one of these men.

L – My Father. He has influenced many things I’ve done. He has guided me through tough times and given me a small portion of his vast wealth of knowledge. I learn from him every single day I spend with him. His calm and quiet demeanor is noteworthy and enviable. He sees things that many people miss. He is spiritual in ways most people will never experience. He has a peculiar ability to talk non-stop both in person and on the phone and make everyday events more exciting and humorous. He can talk to anyone anywhere and does. He is proud of his “little girl”, and I see that in his eyes.

S – My Brother. Very much like our father he is quiet and pensive. Yet he makes me laugh on a continual basis. He appears to be extremely unpredictable yet it is evident that things he does that may seem unpredictable to others have been in his thoughts for some time. I think he likes to surprise people. He is thoughtful and funny and amazingly generous. He is also modest about his abilities. He is an incredible athlete, a remarkable scholar and will be a brilliant and unforgettable teacher to his future students. Even though he is younger, I look up to him, and not just because he is taller than me.

T & S – My Sons. When I speak of two people who bring me joy these two come instantly to mind. I love them unconditionally. And as much as they may frustrate me at times, I cannot remain angry with them for long. They are part of me, and I see myself in both of them, in different manners. Through them I have learned to see and experience the world differently. I am amazed at S’s ability to pick up song lyrics after only a couple of listens, and I grin when he sings along to the radio, gazing sideways at me to see if I am watching. I try to sing along, and revel in his mock embarrassment. T has always been introspective and some of the thought-provoking questions he poses reassures me that he has an amazing future ahead of him. His sometimes annoying stubbornness to stand his ground will serve him well when defending himself. He is considerate and kind and never forgets to thank me with a hug and a kiss for doing things a mother just does. They will always own a large part of my heart. They are my little men.

C – My Soul-mate, Life partner & Best friend. After my divorce I didn’t think I would ever find someone who I’d be willing to open up my life to. I was guarded and cynical. When C initially came into my life what seems now like many years ago I was instantly attracted to his easy-going personality, unstoppable energy and uncanny ability to bring calm to a room. And unconsciously, that was what I began to look for in a companion. I never thought that we would come back full-circle and reconnect like we did. He doesn’t judge me, or expect me to live up to unreal expectations. He accepts and embraces the person I am. He loves me and tells me that every single day we are together. My heart smiles when I hear his voice on the phone or when he walks into the room. I am thankful for each and every day I have with him.

Wednesday 16 June 2010

Communicating?…give me time

The old adage goes that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, so when it came to re-learn how to function in a new relationship this old dog found herself somewhat challenged. In my past I had spent so many of my years holding things back that it was just natural to not talk about things that bothered me, and to bury them for fear they would upset or disappoint others. It turned out that the most important person it ended up bothering was me, because I held everything inside, let it fester and boil until I was feeling upset for what would have been a pretty minor thing. Still, I kept it inside until it had boiled dry and I was emotionally ready to go on.

I know deep down, that this is not how you conduct a relationship, but it was my way of coping and existing so as not to rattle the cage. I don’t know how I got to the point where I was scared of communicating, but I remember always being apprehensive about sharing my feelings, especially, and this is the crux of it all, if they were in the least bit controversial.

The first time I distinctly remember being hesitant was the time I had taken a job with a small newspaper in a remote North Western Ontario town. The editor of the paper had been kind enough to find me accommodation in the town, with a local nurse, Mary, who frequently rented out furnished rooms in her house for people who needed immediate lodging. Mary was the town social butterfly. She knew everyone and was constantly introducing me to people in town. She had a party once and I think half the townsfolk turned up. There was a parole officer living in the basement room of the house and she had also invited a bunch of her co-workers. I met one of them, we chatted a bit and he asked me out for dinner. Seizing an opportunity to get to know him better, and actually go on a date with someone who seemed kind of nice, appeared to be a good way to ease myself into the community.

The day came and we went out for dinner (which, oddly I don’t remember at all) and then drinks back at the house. It was one of those rare evenings when there was no one else home so we grabbed some wine and curled up on opposite ends of the couch to talk. That’s when things started going south. He began to ask me intensely personal and probing questions that made me feel uneasy. As I look back and in his defense, I assume he just wanted to get to know me better, but I wasn’t ready for this type of investigative assault and the wall instantly went up. The conversation fizzled and the evening was basically over at that point. I never saw him again. I can’t remember if it was because I turned him down for subsequent dates, or if he decided that I was too much work and never called me again. Regardless, opening up was difficult.

I used to open up to my diaries all the time. They were the window to my soul, and when I lost them all in a house fire I felt like my emotional past had somehow been erased. I started one journal after the fire, and it never filled up. I couldn’t bring myself to throw the same kind of emotion into it as I’d done in the past. So instead of recording it all, I kept it all inside.

Relationships followed. Again I never felt comfortable enough to really open up to many of the guys I dated. Not surprisingly, those relationships were relatively short-lived. When you cannot share your passions and dreams and worries then what can you share? As wonderful as a warm bed and a bottle of wine are shared between two people, it isn’t enough.

I think when I look back, I was never encouraged, or perhaps never really had the opportunity to challenge others’ viewpoints. As mentioned earlier throughout my married life I took the easy path, always deferring to others. During one family dinner I stepped outside my box and had an interesting “discussion” debating rural vs. urban upbringing with my brother-in-law. The discourse left me nervous and shaking inside, probably due to the exhilaration of finally being able to express myself. I’ve always underestimated my worth, and my intelligence. I think the main reason I hesitated in speaking up was an ill-founded fear of looking stupid.

As with many things in my life, the self-esteem I gained once I started running helped me begin to open up the channels I’d previously locked-down. I saw and embraced a new world outside. When I realized I wasn’t going to be shut down for expressing my views it became easier to articulate them. But I’m no means communicator-extraordinaire. It has continued to be a slow road. And I am still uneasy voicing my opinion, or even accepting that my opinion really matters in the long run. I need time to mull things over inside and formulate a response and sometimes it may take a few minutes or hours or even days. But I am getting better. This ‘old dog’ is slowly learning how to open up.