I’ve often thought the worst thing imaginable would be to go to my grave with regrets. Being human we will always have some doubts in our life, “I wish I would have said”, or “if only I had done…”… Regrets are funny things – they can perpetually haunt us, taunt us, or make us want things that have been deemed unreachable.
We have only one go around at this thing called life. I had purposely put myself on the sidelines for too many years already. It was time to start doing the things I’d always wished I had done. To begin, I started telling my parents that I loved them. Looking back, I’m not exactly sure when that stopped. Likely in the early years of teenage angst, when I felt tortured and insecure, and awkward in my own body. I remember times when I would not walk with my parents into a store for fear of being labeled (what?) by my friends. Or times when I missed out on amazing possibilities because I feared failure, or embarrassment. That is guilt I live with. The years I rebelled, blatantly ignoring wise and sage advice because of course, I was right. The egocentrism inherent in the teenage brain is baffling to those gazing at it from the outside. It is akin to wearing blinders in a snowstorm – seeing nothing beside you and even less in front. I forged sightlessly ahead because I was too self-absorbed to even consider the cost. Yet at the time, I can’t help but wonder, would I have regretted not following my adolescent nature…?
I think with age comes not only maturity but the realization that life is not infinite. When you are young, it is easy to fall into the trap of believing that you are invincible. Days have no end and actions have no immediate consequences. But once that proverbial brick hits you in the head, you start to become conscious of your mortality and begin questioning each choice you make. Is it the right one for me, right now? Each time I make a decision, I stop, and take a deeper look at what I am resolving to do. If I pass up this opportunity, will there be another chance? It is said that for every door that closes, another one opens, but there is no guarantee that the same prize lies behind both.
I would like to be able to say that I did all I could to live my life without compunction. For the most part, I know I have tried hard, and moreso as I grow older; but there have been times when the choice has been taken from me. These are the most difficult to swallow because those helpless “what ifs” remain harbored inside. I tuck them away knowing I will be left wondering for the rest of my life, but perhaps now they have become someone else’s regrets.
Wednesday 28 March 2007
Friday 16 March 2007
On being a fake…
I have been a computer programmer for 5 years, a runner for 8, and a mother for 10. When people ask me what I do or to describe myself, I tell them, but a small part of me feels guilty, because I am a fake. I have been fooling my employer all this time, I really don’t know what I am doing when I tie up my shoes, and for some reason beyond my comprehension at the time, I was errantly allowed to bring a newborn baby home from the hospital.
Of course none of this is true; the SQL I run returns accurate results and the programs I code don’t crash, I have run a Boston Qualifying marathon, and I have managed to raise two well-behaved, intelligent and polite children; so why do I feel this way?
Perhaps it stems from the disparity in how our mind ages compared to our body. We have no control over how quickly our body grows old – it is purely nature driven and, regardless of how good our genes are, we all eventually get old. We will fight this until the bitter end with miracle herbs and magic age-defying lotions but the truth remains that most of us will not see our 90th birthday.
Our minds, however, are a different story. How many times have you seen a middle aged man, after a failed attempt to complete some physical exploit, doubled over in pain whilst clutching an injured body part, mumbling, “I guess I’m not 25 anymore!”? Our psyches are easily swayed. Youth seems to have a powerful allure that we hungrily track down like bloodhounds. Many adults are just plain scared of growing up – the obligations that come with experience are daunting, and it is easy to shelter yourself underneath the pretext of immaturity. We have all exploited youthful ignorance as an excuse at one time or another.
So while I am 43 on the outside, my inner self clings to the insecure and vulnerable person I was at 19; the person who was just starting to test the unfathomable waters of maturity. No matter how much I have changed, it refuses to let go of her, and it chastises her for trying to be something that she is not. I have spent countless years confronting these inner demons, and arguing against my own perceived beliefs. Unfortunately, to win this battle also means to succumb to the truth that I am no longer 19 without responsibility, but fully accountable for my actions. So I harbour this secret, and find myself periodically casting doubt on my abilities.
In the end it is preferable for me to have this occasional dubiousness rather than appear too confident. Believing I am intermittently fraudulent keeps me from being too presumptuous, and compels me to constantly strive for personal betterment. Its acceptable to believe I’m fake now and then, and I’m okay with that...
Of course none of this is true; the SQL I run returns accurate results and the programs I code don’t crash, I have run a Boston Qualifying marathon, and I have managed to raise two well-behaved, intelligent and polite children; so why do I feel this way?
Perhaps it stems from the disparity in how our mind ages compared to our body. We have no control over how quickly our body grows old – it is purely nature driven and, regardless of how good our genes are, we all eventually get old. We will fight this until the bitter end with miracle herbs and magic age-defying lotions but the truth remains that most of us will not see our 90th birthday.
Our minds, however, are a different story. How many times have you seen a middle aged man, after a failed attempt to complete some physical exploit, doubled over in pain whilst clutching an injured body part, mumbling, “I guess I’m not 25 anymore!”? Our psyches are easily swayed. Youth seems to have a powerful allure that we hungrily track down like bloodhounds. Many adults are just plain scared of growing up – the obligations that come with experience are daunting, and it is easy to shelter yourself underneath the pretext of immaturity. We have all exploited youthful ignorance as an excuse at one time or another.
So while I am 43 on the outside, my inner self clings to the insecure and vulnerable person I was at 19; the person who was just starting to test the unfathomable waters of maturity. No matter how much I have changed, it refuses to let go of her, and it chastises her for trying to be something that she is not. I have spent countless years confronting these inner demons, and arguing against my own perceived beliefs. Unfortunately, to win this battle also means to succumb to the truth that I am no longer 19 without responsibility, but fully accountable for my actions. So I harbour this secret, and find myself periodically casting doubt on my abilities.
In the end it is preferable for me to have this occasional dubiousness rather than appear too confident. Believing I am intermittently fraudulent keeps me from being too presumptuous, and compels me to constantly strive for personal betterment. Its acceptable to believe I’m fake now and then, and I’m okay with that...
Thursday 8 March 2007
To Feel…
Recently I have gone through many changes in my life, and although there have been difficult choices to make; the ultimate payout has definitely been worth the pain. The biggest change seems to be the surge of emotions and feelings, a welcome change from the cold detachment I had been experiencing for so long.
“To Feel” separates us from all other creatures on this earth. Should it matter what we feel, as long as we are feeling something? To most people, it does matter. However, the very essence of being human dictates that we must have all emotions, and not just the pleasant ones. There must be a purpose to emotions, otherwise why would they be ingrained in us from birth? Perhaps the purpose of sadness is to put happiness in perspective, and vice versa. Without the opposing emotion, all feelings would be completely out of context. How can we fully acknowledge the power of forgiveness without the anger that precedes it? Or the clarity that comes after confusion? Even the euphoria of love necessitates the balancing pain of heartbreak for the owner to appreciate what he had. And to argue the unfairness of this condition, only solidifies our emotional indignation. We cannot avoid feeling, although we can suppress it. But as hard as we may try to bury it, it will always be a part of our human makeup, and until the day we die, we will feel, something.
I still marvel at what triggered this sudden deluge of my own emotions, and perhaps I will never fully understand. But I discovered an added benefit to hiding underneath a mask. The moment I became unveiled, the emotions that had remained dormant for so long, were sweeter than ever. Happiness, gratitude, contentment, and even anger, appeared to take on a life of their own, with seemingly their own colours and reactions. It felt like I was emerging from a complete and utter darkness to watch fireworks in a clear night sky – each blast inimitable, each explosion beautiful in its uniqueness. For me, anything is preferable than emotional disconnect, and I will take the good with the bad, because I am feeling…
“To Feel” separates us from all other creatures on this earth. Should it matter what we feel, as long as we are feeling something? To most people, it does matter. However, the very essence of being human dictates that we must have all emotions, and not just the pleasant ones. There must be a purpose to emotions, otherwise why would they be ingrained in us from birth? Perhaps the purpose of sadness is to put happiness in perspective, and vice versa. Without the opposing emotion, all feelings would be completely out of context. How can we fully acknowledge the power of forgiveness without the anger that precedes it? Or the clarity that comes after confusion? Even the euphoria of love necessitates the balancing pain of heartbreak for the owner to appreciate what he had. And to argue the unfairness of this condition, only solidifies our emotional indignation. We cannot avoid feeling, although we can suppress it. But as hard as we may try to bury it, it will always be a part of our human makeup, and until the day we die, we will feel, something.
I still marvel at what triggered this sudden deluge of my own emotions, and perhaps I will never fully understand. But I discovered an added benefit to hiding underneath a mask. The moment I became unveiled, the emotions that had remained dormant for so long, were sweeter than ever. Happiness, gratitude, contentment, and even anger, appeared to take on a life of their own, with seemingly their own colours and reactions. It felt like I was emerging from a complete and utter darkness to watch fireworks in a clear night sky – each blast inimitable, each explosion beautiful in its uniqueness. For me, anything is preferable than emotional disconnect, and I will take the good with the bad, because I am feeling…
Tuesday 6 March 2007
What's Next She Asks Herself?
Well, A1A Fort Lauderdale Marathon is over...and frankly, I am a little taken aback. My goal for 2007 was to run a Boston qualifying marathon and then hopefully go to Boston in 2008. I achieved that goal on February 18th of this year. So now what?!?!
Don't get me wrong, I am not disappointed. I am just now left with a blank slate for the coming year, with so many options staring at me that I'm not sure where to begin. There are some smaller races between now and June, when I plan to run the Manitoba Marathon, but after that I'm still not sure. The pressure is definitely off me now, and a part of me is leaping around like a kid on Christmas.
I plan to explore my race options, training, and maybe some travel in my future. You never know what will take flight over the next 12 months.
Don't get me wrong, I am not disappointed. I am just now left with a blank slate for the coming year, with so many options staring at me that I'm not sure where to begin. There are some smaller races between now and June, when I plan to run the Manitoba Marathon, but after that I'm still not sure. The pressure is definitely off me now, and a part of me is leaping around like a kid on Christmas.
I plan to explore my race options, training, and maybe some travel in my future. You never know what will take flight over the next 12 months.
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