Letting Go...

I used to be a pack rat – saving, hoarding, and accumulating ‘things’. It didn’t seem to matter what those things were, I just didn’t like to throw stuff away. My bedroom in my parents’ home was lined with shelves of stuffed animals, some I’d had since I was a child, rows of cassette tapes – many of which I never even listened to, and my closet was packed with clothes that were too small (I might fit them again one day) too big (what if I have a ‘fat’ day?), or out of date (they may come back in style). I could not bring myself to get rid of anything.

Then something earth-shattering happened…we had a house fire.

Before the fire spread too far, I managed to throw some precious items out the window, including irreplaceable photographs, but by the time the fire had burnt its course, the vast majority of my ‘stuff’ was gone. Walking through the debris the next day was sobering. “This is what is left of my life”, I thought. What my parents and I had been able to save barely came to the top of the back of a half ton truck.

That was the beginning.

From that point on I vowed not to let myself get caught up in material items. Stuff bought is stuff that can be replaced. The real losses to me were the piles and piles of notebooks, poetry I had written and journals I had kept for years. You begin to put into perspective the things that mean the most to you, and what was important in this case was that no one died and no one got hurt.

Suddenly things become irrelevant.

Every six months I perform a ritual expunging – I choose one room and put on my ruthless hat. If I cannot leave the room without a garbage bag full of unnecessary items, then I have failed in my mission. To date, I have never failed. I do make deals with myself though. If there are items that I can’t bring myself to throw or give away, the deal is this: if I have gone another 6 months and not used the item, or referred to it, or even thought of it, it is to be released during the next “abolishment”.

But what about letting go of other elements? We tend to hang on to things that have outlived their purpose, people included. Friends come and go in our lives, but we still try to hang on to years old friendships that are no longer beneficial to either party, and instead, tend to act as excess baggage, dragging along like a weight behind you. How do you ‘discard’ friends? I tend to think in terms of reciprocation. If I have made a conscious effort to contact a person, and I receive no response, then I just let the person fall slowly off the radar. Because at that point, I consider it a mutual decision and I cannot be solely blamed for dropping the ball.

Letting go of guilt, worries, inhibitions, and fear becomes a little more complicated; these emotions are rooted in our inner core and difficult to leave behind – they are such a part of us that they become entangled and knotted in the fabric of our being. For some of us, they define who we are as humans. To perform an emotional purging takes a bit more courage. You have to be prepared to open yourself to scrutiny, and then discount it.

For me it is a daily and conscious effort. Up until recently, guilt had taken up a large part of my regular existence. By eventually realizing that this self-induced culpability was only injuring my own psyche, I was able to slowly chip away at it until it filled my mental refuse bin. I am doing similar things with worry, and fear. Inhibition is a little easier to leave behind, and the new-found freedom has opened up new avenues in both my personal life and my writing. I am able to say what I mean, without veiling my words with what I want others to hear.

My lesson learned (and continually learning) is that letting go can be mentally and physically liberating; kind of a weight loss of emotional proportions.

Missed Opportunities

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.

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...

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…

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.