Losing a List Item

I think if you know me at all, you know I haven't exactly been fond of the way some areas of my life have been over the last while (okay, mostly all of them). But I do have some good news - I've lost 10 pounds!

I believe this was list item #38 at some point anyway. Which I kind of forgot about until last week when I knew I was approaching the 10 lbs mark. So yay for a list item being done!

Now before you start to worry about the weight loss being stress related - it isn't. I've been working hard at it. I didn't think I was overweight, although I thought losing a little couldn't hurt. More importantly, I was getting into a bit of fitness rut (along with all my other ruts - ha!) I wanted to change things up so I did two things - I got a FitBit to track steps and I joined a gym.

The FitBit (which I got through Airmiles for 'free') allows me to track my daily steps, set goals and even compete against my friends for most steps. It allows you to also set sleep goals, track food intake and exercise. Oh and water intake. Which I am terrible at. Still.

I've had it about a month. I've already had several people, including a very old friend as well as a brand new one suggest that it may not be the best thing for me as it seems to bring out an OCD streak in me. That's partially true (can you be partially OCD?) but right now I think it's still in the healthy range. It motivates me to walk at lunch at work, walk the dogs at night and make sure I get my workouts in. When you live alone (or with a Zoo), no one holds you accountable for anything (except kibble in their dishes). Having this helps me stay focused and aware of my fitness goals and plans.

As mentioned, I also joined a gym. There will likely soon be a post about the gym practices itself and some questionable customer service I've experienced there. However long story short, I am enjoying having a place to go to use different equipment and try different things, even if their staff have some questionable human interaction and sales skills.

How did I get here? About 5 years ago right around now I was in the final stages of being tested to be a kidney donor. While I knew I wasn't overly fit, I didn't think I was way out of shape. I met one doctor on the team of evaluators that suggested I might want to "do what I can" to be in the best health I can be going into surgery, should I be approved. In hindsight, she was referring to my weight. I wasn't over the top weight they'd take, but I was pretty close. I remember being weighed for one of the appointments. They weigh you in kilograms and that is fairly meaningless to me. I Googled what my weight was in pounds when the appointment was over. OMG. I was pretty darn close to 200 lbs. I was mortified. I wasn't sure how I had let me weight creep up like that. I was embarrassed and disgusted with myself. Shortly thereafter, I bought a Groupon for a bootcamp being held in a community centre across the city. Even though I was nervous (terrified) of starting a new program with new people, I tried it. And I kept going back. At first just once a week, up to eventually three times. After I donated a couple of months later, I started going again around 5 weeks (being careful about what I did as to not hurt the surgery site). I lost about 10-15 pounds but didn't do the best job of  keeping it all off (although I kept some of it off).

In February 2013 I developed a blood clot somewhere (they still are confused about the where) and some of it went to my lung, which can be fatal.  It was 2am on Valentine's Day morning when they got the scan results. I remember being afraid initially that my poor mom was going to have to possibly lose someone else on Valentines Day (my dad died on Valentine's Day in 1996) or at the very least be worried about that. I was lucky though and walked out of the hospital on a boatload of blood thinners. What I took from that moment is that there is so much we can't control about our bodies; I needed to control what I could and make some changes, starting with my weight (that had nothing to do with the clot for the record - but it was an obvious change I could make).

Over the next few months I started exercising 3-5 days a week. I joined Weight Watchers. I gradually lost 30 lbs. And I have kept 20-25 of that off for the past three years. However this last 6 months I know I haven't been doing my best to stay healthy. Or at least its felt that way. While I had still been exercising at home, I needed something new to push me harder, stop me from backsliding and drop my weight a little more. So here we are.

I've set a goal of 20 lbs total, for now. I've actually lost 11 so I have 9 to go. I will be rewarding myself with a new sweatshirt/jacket I've wanted awhile that is overpriced but will last me a long time and replace on I have that is on its last legs. I will likely need to save awhile to get it or sell one of the dogs (lol) but it's a good thing for me to shoot for. When I hit the goal I'll weigh 15 lbs more than I did when I was 19/20. I don't want to get that low because I wasn't particularly healthy then - my nutrition was not good and I worked out too much doing the wrong things. I think my new goal is realistic and attainable and most importantly, healthy.

There is a lot in my life right now I can't control and it is driving me crazy. But my fitness, nutrition and weight I can. Working out also lowers my stress and provides hours of people watching entertainment (like the girl FaceTiming on the elliptical this afternoon, or the man with arms so overdeveloped he couldn't really operate the water fountain). It feels good to be able to focus and see results - the more I try, the better I do. And right now I really need that.

Happy

So far, 2016 has been pretty good. Decent. Alright. There have been quite a few positives, and I'm cautiously optimistic about most thing. I'm doing okay. I repeat: I am doing okay.

I've had several people ask me if I'm happy. The more its asked, the harder it seems to answer. The short answer is no. But I can't say 'No' out loud because that leads to a whole other set of conversations where I spend a lot of time and energy explaining thing and reassuring people that they don't need to worry or look at me with what I've nicknamed "The Pity Face".

I'm content. I'm not unhappy. I'm keeping my head up. I have a job I like with really super people that is bringing in most of what I need and a side company I'm building up to hopefully make up the rest. I'm marketable and resilient and I have options. A lot of people in Calgary and beyond are not as lucky and I remind myself of that everyday. I have a place to live. I joined a gym and am enjoying that a lot. My pets are healthy and so am I (blood pressure is remarkably low at around 110/60, despite the stress I've had over the last, say two years).

The last few months (especially) have made me question just about every area of my life and then some. Relationships, friendships, dating, career, belief systems, values, my strengths and weaknesses, family - you name it, I've reflected on it. I've noticed what's important to me in almost all these areas has shifted pretty dramatically as has what I will and will not tolerate anymore. I'm different. The past couple of years have really changes a lot about me. It's not good or bad change - it is just different. And I don't think the changing and reflecting is quite over yet. I, along with a lot of people around me, are still in the middle of a big storm. And I'm not sure what things will look like when its all over. Except I'm fairly confident I'll still be in one piece with the Zoo in tow.

Why not "happy'? To me there is a carefree, effortless bliss about happiness. Like feeling the sun on your face on a warm spring day. It's an excitable feeling along with elements of joy and calm. Being happy is also about feeling safe, secure and comfortable.

Right now, there is a lot of uncertainty for me, as well as the people and city around me. It's like a fog. To manage, I am constantly trying to figure out how much I can pack in a day, fight being tired and take care of everything (including the hounds and a major change in schedule and routine for them). I am running numbers in my head all the time and being anally careful about everything I eat, use, spend money and time on etc. I'm trying to pack in as much as I can into every minute of everyday. I'm like Dustin Hoffman in "Rain Man", always calculating something - time, space, numbers, money (although I don't watch Wheel of Fortune). While I am not "on the edge" of the cliff anymore, I know it hasn't moved that far away from where I am standing. I need to keep at things and stay ahead of the game so that I can avoid going back to the edge, if at all possible.

I think people sometimes are baffled when you can't tell them you are "happy" and that things are simply okay or average. It can make some people feel like they need to fix something for you, and others perhaps aren't comfortable because it's a bit messy, less easy. In my youth I probably would have catered to their discomfort a bit more and would choose language that would make them feel more okay ("Things are great, I am great"). Now I'm more of a realist. And I can tell that makes some people unsettled. But whatever - I don't have the time or energy to deal with that.

I do have moments of excitement. I have days where I gleefully turn up a good song in the car and sing my heart out. I am sleeping well - a noted difference from this time last year. I am learning I can get by with a lot less than I thought, and I have definitely learned that my mental health and well being is not worth trading for a high salary, free lunch or anything else. Lately I have found I am more able to "live in the moment", something I've struggled with most of my life. So while I can't rubber stamp "happy" on my life right now, things are better in someways than they've been in awhile. Knock on wood.

20 Years

Dear Dad;

Today marks 20 years since you left. It seems like a lifetime ago in some ways. I'm 40 now - not much younger than you were when you died. I think about that a lot. I remember vividly you and the rest of the neighbourhood parents turning 40. You had no idea that less than a decade later you'd be gone. I try to be mindful of that and appreciate every day, because it's true - we really don't know how long we have to do all the things we want to do.

You've shown up in my dreams a lot lately. That hasn't happened for years. The dreams are always present day and it always seems like you are just stopping by to see how things are. It's funny how I can't picture your voice when I'm awake but in dreams it's as clear as anything.

There is a day sometime this upcoming June where I will have officially lived longer without you than with you. I regret not getting to know you as an adult although I am sure we would have had some challenges and my life would be very, very different. I wish you had seen me emerge out of the awkward, self-centred clueless teen years. I'm not perfect but I think I've done a lot more of "living up to my potential" than I did (of didn't at all, lol) as a kid.

We're all doing okay. Jamie (who prefers James now) is smart, successful and has made a great life for himself in Texas. Sometimes in certain pictures he looks just like you, other times he's more of a blend. I think he got a lot of his drive and determination (stubbornness?) from you. He's good at figuring things out from a technical perspective and he's handy - other things for sure he got from you as well as both his grandfathers. I think you'd be super proud of how he turned out.

Mom is pretty good too. She's happy. She found love again which is important and I've always been glad it was with someone who was like a second dad to me, someone you liked and respected.

Of course there is the cancer situation. I hate the fact that Mom's had to fight cancer too. I think it was probably that much scarier for her having already watched you go through it. I can tell you I could have done without having to have the "I have cancer" conversation with both my parents but that's life I guess. It doesn't seem fait but I guess that's also how life works. I'm hopeful she'll be okay. She's really positive about things and I know that makes a huge difference - we saw that with you. Had you not fought so hard we probably wouldn't have had the three years we had after you were first diagnosed. So in some small way I think you've helped her with this battle by setting an example. Thank you.

And then there is me. I've done some cool stuff. Like moving to Calgary and the kidney thing. You wouldn't have approved of the kidney thing (out loud anyway, mostly out of worry and fear) but I think it would have been one of those things you'd secretly have been proud of. You know, hiding newspaper clippings etc. in your desk drawer or your car like you did with some of my school projects or stories/letters I wrote. We found some of those after you got sick. It showed me a different side of you I didn't really get to know. You weren't great at showing or talking about how you felt, and I feel like maybe that would have evolved if you had gotten to know the grown-up me. These are the things I think about. Sometimes, especially in the last couple of years when things have been tough, I've "talked thing out" with you. Pretty one-sided conversation (lol) but in my head, especially around some of the career stuff, it made sense. And it helped.

The fact that its been 20 years seems like some kind of a turning point. As though I'm moving into some kind of new era, moving on, moving further away from that part of my life and leaving it behind. I'm such a different person than I was when you last knew me. Part of that comes with age, I know. But I also know for certain that had you not died when you did, at that point in my life,  I would have taken a completely different, unrecognizable path. And that despite not being around anymore, you have influenced and shaped many decisions I have made as an adult - professionally, in relationships and in general.

We never know how things are going to turn out. I do absolutely wish I had the chance to know you longer in life. At the same time though, going through the loss of a parent at 20 taught me some valuable lessons that have made me a better, more appreciative person. A stronger, more compassionate person.  Everything does NOT happen for a reason, but life events do shape how you evolve and grow as a person. And even the worst events give you fresh perspective.

Happy Valentine's Day, Dad.

Bye Bye 2015

I've been trying to write this all day. I've started. I've stopped. I've started again. I sat and reflected on the year. I cried. Then I laughed. And I got angry. I worried. That my friends, sums up this year in a nutshell. 2015 has been unlike any year I've encountered. I'm so done with it.

There were some good moments - it certainly wasn't all bad. My Mom completed her cancer treatments and so far is in the clear a little over a year after her diagnosis and surgery. That's a huge win and a relief. I also had some random moments of pure happiness. Like staying at a friend's house and while lying in bed, hearing a train in the distance as I listened to the rain on the roof (some of my favourite things and places all happening at once). Or laughing uncontrollably until my sides hurt at a malfunctioning parking door at a Banff hotel. It wasn't that funny. But oh did we laugh. I made a couple of great new friends and reconnected with an old one. I was also on the receiving end of a couple of acts of kindness that seemed to come at just the right time. These and the other highlights of the year (hey I turned 40!) have really helped me get through things.

But for the most part, this year was really tough. Loss was the biggest theme for me in 2015. Sadly and frustratingly, I managed to cover this off in a lot of life’s categories. Some losses were major. Some minor. Put all together it just felt like I was constantly being hit with stuff and couldn’t stop to catch my breath, or really seek shelter. One thing after another. Death (a person and a pet). Major home expenses. Loss of friendships. Job Loss. Twice. Family illness. More than a few encounters with people who completely lacked compassion and kindness when it mattered most. Disappointment. Misunderstanding. Bad dates. Financial stress. A lot of uncertainty. In short, it was an asshole of a year.

People keep telling me next year will be my year. I hope so because quite frankly I'm tired. It actually doesn't have to be "my year". I'd be happy with a moderately better year. I am probably one of the most positive, resilient people out there and 2015 has tested me more than any other. While I do have some good people in my world rooting for me, I'm carrying most of this on my own. And sometimes it's kind of heavy.

I'm excited about 2016. I'm also a little scared. I feel like I'm going into some kind of uncharted territory, a new adventure. I think I'm ready, I know I am capable, but I also know enough to know you are never completely prepared for what comes along the way. I have put my big girl pants on, I have a plan and I'm charging forward. But not before I give 2015 one last kick in the shins for good measure on its way out. 

Where's Lauren?

*waves*

I'm over here.

I've been absent awhile. I know. I have about 3-4 blog posts on a range of topics half written, waiting for me to be inspired to finish them. That inspiration has been buried under an avalanche of curveballs that seem to continue to be sent my way. I have high hopes for 2016 because I am SO done with this year.

I recently have gone through my second job loss this year, and this time around Calgary's economy is further in the toilet than it was in June, by a long shot. In fact I think in many regards, someone has flushed the toilet and closed the lid. It's both terrifying and motivating depending on the day or even time of day you ask me.

I'm looking for work: something that is the right fit and gets me excited. At the same time, I'm also working to build up my business, Write.Brand.Image. I'm fortunate that I already have a few small projects to work on, although I know I will need to increase that a lot more to be able to stay afloat. I've thought about relocation but I am just not sure I am ready for that yet. For now I'm going to concentrate on growing my business and considering all the options out there.

There are a lot of people here out of work. Thousands and thousands of workers (120,000 ish?) at all levels, across the province. Suicide is up 30% this year. Engineers, project managers, administrative assistants, oilfield workers, trades. I made the mistake of reading "the comments" on a few articles on the subject of layoffs and our economy. There is a sentiment out there that Calgarians somehow deserved this; that so many of us "oil workers" have not planned for a rainy day and have been living beyond our means (so not true on many levels). Many of the unemployed aren't even oil and gas workers (me!) but the trickle down effect is already well underway.

There is also this comment section notion that many of the unemployed should go and work in retail or fast food jut to have some money coming in. From what I've heard though, the service industry isn't wanting to hirer many of those out of work 'office types" because they know many won't stay in those roles. It's true. Frustrating for all, but true. In the office world, there are a fair number of really junior roles being posted for probably half or a third of what people were making a year ago. Even those with extensive experience willing to work at reduced rates are not getting hired, probably for the same reason they can't get the service industry jobs. It's no wonder people are feeling less than positive.

In my case, I've been a bit overwhelmed by the generosity and kind, motivating and constructively helpful words several people have sent my way over the last few weeks. I had a couple of pretty low points but because of these caring folks, I've rallied back and feel I'm in the best position to move forward and kick some butt in 2016.

As a public service announcement, if you know people who are struggling with job loss or looming job loss, reach out and say hello to them. Listen. Don't try to fix their problems because you probably can't. Avoid the cliches like "everything happens for a reason..." and "this will make you so much stronger" or "at least xxxx hasn't happened to you" or "lots of other people are unemployed too". Encourage but don't over cheerlead. Buy them a coffee. Offer them a brief distraction. Invite them for dinner. Do things that give them hope and help them see real options. Offer specific help like watching their kids or pets or giving them a ride somewhere because they probably won't want to ask for help. Let them know you are thinking about them. And, again, listen.

What would the ten year old you think of your life?

When I was ten, sitting in my mom's car while she ran into my aunt's house to get something during a snowstorm, a song was playing on the radio. I decided at that moment that it would be the song I'd dance to for the first dance of my wedding. The song? Chicago's "You're the inspiration". It gave me chills and was the most romantic thing I had ever heard.

I was driving home the other night, listening to the radio and that song came on. I smiled as I felt the nostalgia creep in. It still kind of gives me goosebumps and stirs the romantic in me. I thought about ten year old me, in love with being in love, believing in romance and dreaming about someday getting married. I felt a little sad; I wondered for a moment if I had let her down by not getting married. And it got me thinking - what would the ten year old me, think of the almost forty year old me?

Being ten is a cool age. You aren't a little kid anymore, but for most ten year olds, you have no idea about the angst-filled, possibly awkward years just around the corner. Ten year olds start to want a healthy distance from parents and family and gravitate towards their friends - and greater independence, but it is still pretty balanced. You have some pretty solid ideas and dreams about the future based on what you see in the world around you.

When I was ten, I knew for sure I as a grown-up I was going to be a journalist with a weekly column where I'd write about my life and anything I found interesting. It was going to be a funny column, similar to what syndicated columnist Dave Barry did (which I read religiously). I was also going to be married although the groom was undetermined and changed frequently, alternating between Toronto Blue Jays, actors and the occasional boy in my school (I had a phase where I loved any boy name Troy, followed by a similar phase where I loved any boy named Kevin).

Shannon a.k.a Shanny

As a ten year old, I loved animals. We lost our family dog that year, at the ripe old age of 15. I vowed to one day have many pets that I would love with all my heart and soul. I was definitely a kid who loved a lot of things deeply and felt a strong need to protect the things that I cared about, to make sure they were always okay. I had strong opinions about fairness, justice and people doing the right thing, being good to each other. I often shared my passionate opinions on current events with my mother and grandparents which frequently lead to my mother remarking that I had such a strong sense of right and wrong and views on justice and she wasn't entirely sure where those came from.

Nothing made me happier at ten than to be reading. If my mom told me to go play outside, I'd often bring a book and read outside instead (probably not what she had in mind). I devoured books, magazines and newsletters. I read books about serial killers (my mom was a little concerned), studied the criminal code of Canada (my mom was a little relieved) and read every Saturday Star from cover to cover. I loved politics, law, medical and lifestyle stories. I also enjoyed fiction and became quite emotionally involved with the characters.

A close second pastime to reading was riding my bike. I had an awesome sparkly blue ten-speed that I'd cruise around the neighbourhood on. I especially liked doing it after swimming as my hair, in the wind created by my super fast bike riding skills, would poof to epic, lion's mane proportions. Which I thought was super cool.

So what would this ten year old kid think of me and my life now?

Well she'd be bummed about the marriage thing. Although she wouldn't have wanted to be divorced either so she'd probably think a good thing I didn't marry any of my previous long term partners. That said, I think she'd be confused as to why I'm not "better" at love and relationships, given how much I care about the people in my life and how deep my feelings often are. She wouldn't want me to settle though, and she'd want me to keep looking for a person who loved me exactly as I am. Because ten year olds are both cheesy and wise.

She'd be over the moon about The Zoo. She's think two cats and two dogs are awesome and that I am very lucky to have them to love. Ten year olds have a knack for overlooking litter boxes, chewed things and would probably like the idea of getting a dog paw in the head at 7 am like I did this morning.

Ten year old Lauren would love the fact that I've lived downtown in a couple of cities. I know when I was a kid I always pictured being that independent career woman living in the city, working in an office building. She wouldn't understand my job, although with some explanation she'd approve given the writing element and the chance to "be in charge" and lead people. As a-super-ultra-mega shy kid, I always admired those who had the confidence to lead and be outspoken and I hoped someday I'd get over my shyness to do the same, as I knew I had it in me.



Other things she'd like? She'd think social media is awesome. And the Internet. I remember being in a music store mid 80s, the era of the mixed tape and thinking, why can there be a machine in the store that lets you buy all the songs you like off of albums and put them onto one or two cassettes. You know, instead of trying to make badly recorded compilations at home. I know; I could have been rich if I got that idea to market first. But I digress.

I think generally, ten year old Lauren would be okay with forty year old me. She'd think I'm really old, but that aside, she'd judge me a lot less harshly than I judge forty year old Lauren. When we were ten, we were more okay with mistakes and failure. Actually, while I knew what the word meant, I am not sure I really knew what failure felt like at ten. Making a mistake was more acceptable, because we were supposed to be learning and we weren't supposed to know everything about everything. We focused on that learning rather than dwelling on the errors.

When we were ten, we did things because they were fun, because we were interested in them and sometimes because our parents said you have to. We loved unconditionally. We had lofty dreams. We were excited about the future. We trusted. We thought going for ice cream was a fun night out. We were also a hell of a lot better at living in the moment and appreciating what we did have, rather than what we didn't. I'm not sure at what age we change the rules on ourselves or why, but it's kind of too bad that we do.

I think I'm going to make more of an effort to try to view some of life's ups and downs from the perspective of 10 year old Lauren. She might teach forty year old Lauren a thing or two.

Calgary

Nine years ago today was one of the biggest days of my life. I got on a plane with two suitcases and a heavy carry-on in tow and left Toronto for the final time as a "resident". (Note: do not try to accidentally take a wrench through security at an airport. They don't like that and the moving excuse doesn't help). My furniture had left three days earlier, and would eventually (and I mean eventually) make it's way west as well.

I often get asked the question "Was it a job or a man?" that made me move out here. It wasn't either. Sure, my employer at the time was looking to fill a position out here and they had asked several times if I would consider moving, but it wasn't ever something they were going to make me do. In fact, I had said no a good solid six weeks in a row to the suggestion. Why would anyone want to move to Calgary? I had never been west of Windsor and will admit I was the typical Ontarian, believing the world revolved around Toronto and its placement in the Centre of the Universe. (Most Ontarians don't realize they look at the world this way until they go and live somewhere else). I had no interest in moving, let alone to Calgary. All I knew about Calgary was that they had cows there (or nearby) and had hosted the Olympics in 1988.

Then I started to give it more thought. All of my friends were coupled and/or getting married, moving to the suburbs and talking about having kids. I wasn't there yet at all. I was a couple of years into being single after two serious relationships. My few remaining single friends seemed to be busy all the time with other things and I felt like my social circle was really shrinking. I was starting to feel like I was in a bit of a rut, and wondered if maybe a change of scenery might help. I recognized that it would push me well outside my comfort zone, but it also could be an adventure. Still, Calgary was far and I didn't know anyone.

It was summer and I had the routine of occasionally packing my laundry up in my car and driving out to my Mom's house to do it. This was mostly because I could sit by the pool on a nice day and swim while the laundering was in process. It was also because I could "shop" for things in her house like paper towels, toilet paper and bottles of wine (sorry, Mom). She was rarely there in the summer, and it was a pretty quiet, relaxing way to spend an afternoon. One particular weekend in early August I had such a 'Laundry Day". As I sat by the pool, my thoughts drifted to the whole idea of Calgary again. That particular weekend I was pretty fed up with a few people in my life for canceling plans. I sat and contemplated what life in a new city would be like. I still wasn't sure if the move made sense or if I was up to the challenge. At some point in the afternoon I got a little bored and decided to go through this box of memorabilia and documents my Mom has. I had been through it a million times before - it had things like my adoption certificate, her marriage license, my Dad's death certificate. It also had things like our old family dog Shannon's hairbrush and small keepsakes my brother and I had received as infants. As I rummaged, I noticed a small white box I had never seen before with my name on it. Weird. I was nosy enough I thought I had seen everything. Inside the white cardboard box there was a velvet box. I opened that up. And in that box I found a coin - a commemorative coin from 1975 that someone had given my parents to mark my arrival. Here's the kicker. The coin was commemorating Calgary's centennial.The following Monday I went into work and sent my boss an email: "Let's talk about this Calgary thing.".

Days later, they had me on a plane to visit Calgary for the first time, to help get a new food service account set up (SAIT, which is where years later, I am now working in a different capacity for the actual institution). My first trip out, my plane touched down on a runway with cows along one side of it. Yep, they indeed had a lot of cows in this city (I don't think they have them by the airport anymore though). I made several trips back and forth between Calgary and Toronto for a couple of months while planning the move, which officially happened the Tuesday after Thanksgiving.

And here we are, nine years later. So much has happened. I can honestly say I would not be half the person I am today had I not made the move here. To say (as I did earlier) that the move would push me outside of my comfort zone was a huge understatement. I had to find my way in a new city, make new friends and establish a new life. I gained a confidence and knowledge that far exceeded my expectations. I knew I'd be better for making the move. I didn't realize how much better. Career wise, there is no way I'd be doing as well in Toronto for a variety of reasons. The move also lead me down the path to becoming a kidney donor, which was another life changing, confidence boosting, learning experience of an event. So much has happened in the last nine years, from people to changes to accomplishments. I'm very proud of myself for taking a chance, for believing that this was something I could do, and do well. For believing in myself.

I'm not sure I believe that everything happens for a reason, in some arbitrary, fate driven way, but I do think that sometimes the least expected path has the greatest rewards.