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. 

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.

From Jennifer to Lauren

Around this time, 40 some odd years ago, a series of events occurred that chose the path my life would take.

My Mom was out of town helping my Dad's sister, who had just had baby #3. My parents had been married a little over five years and were seriously challenged in the reproductive department. My Mom loved children and wanted nothing more than to start a family but it didn't look like it was in the cards for them. I know this had their relationship at a significant crossroads as they struggled with the pressure and disappointment of not being able to conceive.

Family legend has it that my maternal Grandma mentioned my mother's fertility issues in passing to her family doctor during a routine checkup around this time (my Grandma can be quite chatty so the story probably checks out). The story goes on to say that within the next couple of days, that same doctor was golfing (?) with a colleague, an OBGYN who happened to bring up the fact he had a patient who was looking for a family to privately adopt her soon-to-be-born child. Dr. OBGYN asked if Family Doctor knew anyone who might like to adopt. Family Doctor thought of my Grandma's story about my Mom and he made a call.

Within a day or so, my Mother got a call at my Aunt's house, from my Grandma, asking if she wanted to adopt a baby that was due any day. My Mother didn't know what to think - at first she thought it couldn't be real - adoption wasn't really even on their radar and this was coming out of nowhere (in some versions of this story my mother hangs up dramatically on my Grandma, thinking she is playing a mean joke). But it was their chance to have a family. So she packed up and returned home to get ready for the possible arrival of a new baby. They had nothing a baby would need and scrambled to get the basics together.

Meeting my other Grandma
for the first time (not the chatty one)

A few weeks later, on a Monday afternoon, the phone rang. A little girl had been born. Adoption laws at the time stated that infants could not be placed with their adoptive families until they were at least seven days old. The doctor kept me "for observation" in hospital for that first week so that I wouldn't have to go into foster care (something that was important to my Birthmom). The nurse apparently were more than okay with this, because they had a baby that they could snuggle, hug and feed. It was always thought that they had named me (Jennifer) although I now know that my Birthmom did that.

When the week was up, on an unseasonably warm late October day, a "neutral third party" (the adoption lawyer's wife) picked me up from the hospital and brought me back to their home, where my parents were anxiously waiting. From that day forward, I became Lauren to all who knew me, although I wasn't officially adopted until June of the following year. On that day, the judge asked to hold me. He then stood up, addressed the court and said "I'd like to introduce you all to Lauren Elizabeth Herschel".

I always knew I was adopted. I don't remember being told. My Mom said when she was later pregnant with my brother (surprise!) and I was less than a year old, she'd tell me that while I didn't grow in her tummy, I was just as much hers as he was. I was always told that my Birthmom had made a choice to have me and that she took very good care of herself so I would be born healthy.  Adoption for me was always framed in a very positive way - that my Birthmom had wanted me to have the best life possible and that my adoptive parents really wanted me as well. I always had the sense that not only was I in a very loving adoptive family, there was also a Birthmom (and family) out there who cared deeply for me, hoping I was doing well and thriving. Sometimes when you tell people you are adopted, they initially look uncomfortable, uncertain if it is a good thing or not. I always thought I was lucky I was adopted and that I was truly loved and wanted by a lot of people, before I was even born.

My Dad was never okay with me looking for my birth family - he said the family I grew up with was my family and that's all I should need to know. My Mom always seemed to understand my curiosity a little more, and she knew that someday I might want to know more about where I came from. All I knew growing up was that my Birthmom had been in her early 20s, was a student and had nothing significant in her family medical history. That's not a lot to go on but in the 1970s, there weren't many rules around what information had to be collected in a private adoption.

After my Dad died, I decided to look, if for nothing else, updated medical history (watching a parent go through cancer makes you reflect on that kind of thing). In my mid 20s with the help of the Ontario government, I was reconnected with my Birthmom. It was pretty interesting to find out what we had in common (quite a lot) and see pictures of someone I look like. After a few months of letters and emails, we met. The following day, I was introduced to a slew of other amazing family members and family friends. They are all wonderful, kind people and I feel pretty fortunate to have a whole "other" family come into my life. They have always made me feel like I belong, like a long lost relative that just was away for 24 or so years.

I know not every adopted person's story is as sunshine and lollipops as mine. It's always been something I've had a deep appreciation for. Being adopted and all my experiences around it has definitely shaped who I am today, for the better. I was given a great start by a selfless, caring woman, and raised by a pretty awesome family. It doesn't get much greater than that.

P.S. Here is a letter the lawyer's wife wrote years later to my mother, after my dad died, remembering the day she picked me up from the hospital and brought me to them. I guess it was a special day for her too.

Progress Report: The List

The big 4-0 is a mere 21 days away. I thought it would be a good time to update "the list" and see where I am at (although I do have another year to complete these things). It's funny how life gets in the way of somethings and not others. A lot has changed for me in the last year and there have certainly been some big ups and big downs that have contributed to where I am on these goals.

Here is what I've accomplished:

• Buy a new bicycle. Done! 
• Do at least one random act of kindness every month. I've done this consistently. Yay!
• Read a book a month. I've been doing this!
• Plant a veggie garden. Done!
• Do a public speaking gig.  Done!
• Take a trip to Vancouver. Done!
• Start a wine collection. Done! Although I drank a lot of it.
• Find a new volunteer gig. Done! 
• Become a mentor in a mentoring program. Signed up for this with IABC. Hopefully a mentee picks me
• Finish my company website (the company I own, not the one I work for). Done

Here's where I'm on my way or it is reasonable I haven't started yet because there hasn't been the opportunity:

The run I'll be doing October 25

• Go back to school. Still no news here.
• Run a 5KM 10km  5km run event. Booked for October 25! And re the 10km - I was probably drinking when I thought up that one.
• Travel to Ireland. Still on the list....
• See Montreal. 
• Go to Italy. 
• Visit Boston.
• Explore Chicago.
• See San Francisco.
• Take a culinary class.
• Hit 25 blood donations. I am set to hit 25 on October 24!
• Walk the dogs more often, even Cricket. I've been better with this but still have room to improve
• Lose 10lbs. Found my scale. It's broken. Need new scale. I think I have lost the weight though. Maybe.
• Pay off all debt (not including my house and maybe not my car). Partly there: Student loans are done!
• (#40 - mystery item)I'm not saying what this one is. Working on this ;)
• Learn Spanish. At least in a basic conversational way.
• Sing one song by myself in Karaoke.

Here's things I've "failed" on because I've had the opportunity but haven't completed the task.

• Write everyday week (blog!) This has been a fail, although I've made three posts in the last week.
• Go to Vegas. Had two trips booked and both got cancelled. Awesome.
• Mail a letter a week just because. #stillfail. I haven't done this at all. I have however bought stamps. Which if you know me, is a miracle in itself. 
• Take golf lessons. I didn't even golf this year
• Visit Napa Valley. I had hoped to do this for my birthday but it doesn't look like that's going to happen
• Buy a wine fridge.
• Learn more about wine.
• Learn to hang a picture. Properly.
• Learn how to put air in my tires
• Learn how to change a tire.
• Go for at least one hike in the mountains (June-September - I am not crazy). No excuse for this. #fail
• Take a public speaking course.
• Make fresh pasta.
• Learn to ride a motorcycle (even a little bit). I am not even sure I still want to do this one - I go back and forth on the idea.

It's nice to review things and see where I am - I think I am further ahead than I thought I would be. I've always enjoyed setting big goals and going after them every few years. Hopefully I'll be able to keep at these and get them all done. 

Oh and if anyone wants to teach me how to hang a picture, that would be great.

Favourite Birthdays

We all have birthdays - that's certainly not unique. However for most people, their "favourite" birthday(s) are a little more individual. For those of you thinking "I don't have a favourite" - you probably do have a few if you give it some thought.

What makes a particular birthday a favourite? A lot of personal factors probably go into that. What happened that year, was there a fun celebration or activity, was it a particular milestone? Did turning a certain age have a specific meaning in the outside world? Did people remember?

For me, my top three birthdays were my 10th, 18th and 30th birthdays. No particular order.

My 10th was exciting because I was double digits (finally) and got every single thing I wanted, right down to the "grandpa hat", a sleepover party with about 7 friends (my poor parents) and a chocolate chip Snackin' Cake.

My 30th was awesome because I was so full of hope and excitement about a new "first number" meaning a better, more interesting life. I was desperately trying to flee the ups and downs of my 20s. In the year leading up to my 30th, I had really made some changes in my life and had a much better understanding of who I was, and was anxious to apply these new learnings to a whole new decade of living. At the time, I was also unemployed and really wanted to move forward in my career and life in a more meaningful way. At about 4:30 on the afternoon of my 30th, I received a call offering me a new regional marketing manager role with a food service contractor. That position would give me the opportunity to move to Calgary less than a year later - which was one of the smartest, rewarding decisions I've made which setting off a chain of events I never could have envisioned.

That leaves my 18th birthday. What made that exciting? Not only was I eligible to finally vote but the federal government had taken it one step further and called its 35th general election (just for my benefit I'm sure) for a mere five days after my birthday. I had followed politics in the newspaper since the Canadian Constitution Act in 1982 (yes, I was 7 when I started getting interested). I was intrigued not only by the issues and debates, but how riled up seemingly normal people got about the people running our country. I was fascinated by our political system and some of the more well known figures and characters who had made careers and names for themselves in this field. I was also turning 18, full of ideas as to what needed to be changed and upheld in our world and how I might make a difference with my one, single vote. I had a deep appreciation (thanks, high school history classes!) of how having the ability to vote was not something everyone else had in the world. It was something that people fought for their whole lives, and of course in some cases died over - because it was that important to have that right. So I was thrilled that I could celebrate my 18th birthday by exercising my right to vote. When I gleefully showed up five days later at the polling station, one of the ladies there pointed out to my (bewildered) mother that she had never seen someone so excited to vote as I was. Incidentally, my election pick won (although my selection criteria was not very conventional).

When I was in high school, part of my master plan and life timeline was to become Prime Minister at 40. While it's fairly likely that is not going to happen (I think there is some kind of rule where you have to be on the ballot), it somewhat amuses me that another federal election is looming, with an Election Day set for the day before my birthday. It's definitely handy because I wont have to calculate how many months - weeks - days away my birthday is. The media will essentially be (constantly) doing that for me. Fantastic. While I'm far less gleeful and idealistic this time around about voting, I absolutely will be sure to cast my ballot. That said, will the election contribute to whether or not my 40th becomes a favourite?

Probably not. Ha.

Changes

If nothing else, this "40th year" has been full of the unexpected. Some bad thing, some good things. While I've always been pretty resilient, I have to admit that I would love if the curve balls could stop for awhile.

In the Spring, my writing and a lot of other things I love slowed down, and in a lot of cases became non-existent in my life. I was busy - or let's be honest, overwhelmed - with the unexpected. I was also in a high pressure professional role that was taking more than I (or likely anyone) could give. I was on the proverbial train headed towards a bridge that was no longer there and I couldn't seem to get off. The crappy part is that I have been on the same train before. So I felt like I should have done a better job and either hopped off sooner, or maybe avoided the getting on train altogether.

I once did a speech to new communications grads from U of C, SAIT and Mount Royal University about the Top 5 Life Lessons I had learned thus far (to be clear, they invited me to speak because I was a Top 40 Under 40, not necessarily because I was some kind of life expert). One of the pieces of professional advice I offered was to "know when to leave the party". In other words - know when you've spent enough time in a particular role, with a particular company and move on. There is no hard and fast rule as to what the best time for this is. I used to work with a lady who swore by the 2-3 year rule. In my experience however, I've had some great professional experiences that have been both longer and shorter than that. You have to rely on your instincts and do what feels right for you.

I used an additional analogy in that part of my speech  - "the favourite pair of jeans". When you buy new jeans they look and feel fabulous. Over time though, styles change (for example, thank goodness acid wash died - although I think it might be returning?!?).
You might change. You might get a little more of a booty or you might lose weight. Your tastes (tight vs. baggy) might change too, for a variety of reasons.
The jeans might also change. They may become a little rough looking from wear and tear. Or fade over time in the wash. And so eventually, for all or any of these reasons, the once "greatest pair of jeans" may not be the best option for you anymore. It's not to say they weren't awesome jeans in the beginning - but their time is up. It's simply time for new ones.

Despite my infinite wisdom (insert eye roll here) when speaking to 20-somethings excitedly looking at getting out into the world, I failed to follow my own advice for quite some time with my most recent job. I let things get to a point where my 8am to 5pm role was not an environment where I was learning, growing or having fun anymore. For me, there was a lot of stress and little reward. Things had changed. I had changed. And things didn't fit quite as well as they once did. I tried to make it work but it just wasn't going to happen. So in early June, we parted ways.

It has taken some time for me to figure out what I want now and down the road. Perhaps more importantly I've taken a lot of time to figure out what I don't want in my life anymore and the steps I need to take to make that a reality.

This upcoming week I start a new job in a different industry in a role that is unlike any other I have had before (more to come on that!). It's not completely outside of my toolbox as it will use many of my passions and existing skill sets, while still giving me the opportunity to learn. I'm excited, hopeful and optimistic. I made the same kind of career change just after I turned 20 and again at 30 - those experiences in hindsight were major life turning points for me that lead to some pretty amazing things, both professionally and personally. I can't help but wonder if these recent changes will have a similar outcome as I approach 40.

I'm also excited to be back in a place where I have time, energy and interest in things that had fallen by the wayside earlier this year. I'm looking forward to seeing the good and return to a more balanced life that will no doubt result from these latest changes.

What Makes You Happy?

 This is the year quite a few of my friends are also rolling the odometer into the 40s. Most seem to be handling it pretty well (at least on the surface anyway) and are looking forward to what lies ahead in this new, uncharted era of our lives.

I do share that optimism - really. And I'm not overly concerned about the physical aging. Sure, my boobs could be a little more perky and every once in awhile I notice tiny wrinkles that are attempting to set up residence on my face. Otherwise though I think I'm doing relatively well from a physical perspective.

A good friend of mine (who just a couple of weeks ago hit 40) and I have spent a lot of time in the last six months worrying more about turning the big 4-0 in relation to the "happy factor". Are we making the best life choices? Are we doing what we love, or at least something that makes us happy. I think the fact that we are still having this conversation probably indicates that the answer is "no" to all of those questions. We seem to keep looking around wondering "Where am I and how the heck did I get here?"

It's not to say that we are dreadfully unhappy in our lives. We do okay, we have careers that other people look at and think "Well they are doing alright." We have places to live, cars to drive and other nice material things. We have people that we care about and they care about us. We are relatively healthy. But something is missing. Or several things are (maybe). My aforementioned friend summed it up well recently when he said: "I didn't think things would be this hard. But they really are."

I think our (my) problem is that we have lots sight of what makes us happy. Not content, but happy; that excited, passionate, heal-clicking kind of glee. The really good happy stuff that drives you to dream and believe anything is possible. Where you feel like you are contributing and really doing something that matters. I need to find that again. I've had rare, fleeting glimpses in the last few weeks so I think I'm hopefully on the right path to getting there. I need to re-discover what I'm good at, what I love and what I need. And then figure out how to not lose it again.

Is this what a mid-life crisis looks like? I have no idea - I'm new at this.

My Champion

I had no idea when I first got the idea to do this blog late last summer, that this year was going to be as much of a roller coaster as its been. In my naive "everything goes relatively okay for me" way of looking at things, I was going to write a list of things I wanted to do, some frivolous and some with a lot deeper meaning, and I was going to do everything on the list. And that life as I knew it would be life as I knew it, with maybe a few list driven twists.

Instead, there have been a heck of a lot of ups and downs. And by ups and downs I mean mostly downs. I've taken a lot of deep breaths, re-adjusted the plan and forged ahead.

One of the "downs" has been weighing on my mind a lot, for quite awhile. Probably because there isn't anything I can adjust or do to make it better. It is what it is. And its really tough for me to wrap my head around. My 90-almost-91-year-old biggest fan, my grandma, is starting to fail. Among other things, she's having some memory issues and is beginning to have difficulties caring for herself without a lot of assistance, which is a big change for her.

Most people who know me even in the slightest know how awesome I think my grandma is. And I have so many reasons why I think that.

Grandma, know to other humans as Vera, was a young and fun 51 years old when I randomly appeared in the family via private adoption. Legend has it that she essentially (somewhat accidentally) started the ball rolling on the matchmaking process between my birthmother, her doctor and my adoptive parents in the two weeks leading up to my birth. I was the second grandchild and the first girl. From my earliest memories, she has always been my champion, excited and happy to spend time with me. She's delighted in my accomplishments, no matter how small, and has encouraged me endlessly when I haven't been sure I could do something.

There is an affectionate eye roll I get from my other cousins when Grandma (or anyone else for that matter) tries to suggest that she doesn't have a favourite. I know she loves all of her 8 grandkids very much - but she and I have always had a really strong connection. She always seemed to get me, and saw things in me I couldn't even see yet. She made me feel like I was extra-special and still does. I think everyone needs that in their life.

When I was seven or eight, she gave me an old typewriter she had. For those of you in the under 30 crowd, it's what people used before computers came along to write correspondence, or in my case, short stories, commercials for my tape recorder radio show, newspaper stories for my imaginary newspaper and poems. I had always liked making up stories, fictional or otherwise, but this typewriter put my love for writing in a whole new realm. I would sit for hours, clacking away at the keys, dreaming up character, expressing my feelings and writing dozens of first-pages of what would (never) be the greatest novel ever. Whenever she saw me, she'd ask to see what I had written. I often hid my written ramblings from other people, embarrassed and unsure of what they'd think. But I always showed her. And she always loved every word. I really think she helped me see the value in this love of writing I had/have, and she helped me gain confidence in the talent that I had. I've always felt safe with her.

Being the adopted kid in the family, while I felt completely accepted as one of the gang, I didn't look like anyone, which sometimes made me feel awkward. On more than one occasion, throughout my childhood and well into my adult years, I'd be out with my grandma and we'd inevitably run into one of her many friends or acquaintances in her community. She'd proudly introduce me as her granddaughter and sometimes her friends would comment how much we looked alike. Without missing a beat, she'd wink at me, agree with them and would say something about the good-looking family genes.

When we were kids, she was the cool grandma. She'd go on the bumper boats at Ontario Place with me and would take me for picnics. She'd have me for sleepovers and take me to see grown-up plays at the Royal Alex. Grandma talked to me about current events from politics to religion to the news and helped me how to critically think about issues in the world while respecting other peoples beliefs and values. As we got older and the Internet came along, she learned how to use it to better stay in touch with her grandkids. She even coordinated a Sunday brunch with most of the adult grandkids, using MSN Messenger. No phones required.

When I decided to move across the country to Calgary and everyone I knew thought I was crazy, she was in my corner. She wasn't naive about the challenges I might face - she herself had flown from England to Canada two years after World War II ended to reunite with my Canadian grandfather who had mailed her an engagement ring. He had been in England briefly as part of the Canadian Firefighters Brigade and they had met and fallen in love. She knew that taking a chance like that can be life-changing and it could pay-off. It had for her. And as it turns out, it really did for me.

My graduation message from Grandma

Grandma has always made me feel okay with who I am - no easy feat when you are the awkward, shy smart kid She has always had an unwavering confidence in my decisions and has never hesitated to express how proud she is of me. She has always encouraged me to be brave, try knew things and appreciate what I have to offer the world. She is quick to promote me and my accomplishments to anyone who will listen (I think her entire retirement village and possibly half of Etobicoke knows about the kidney thing).

It's hard for me to imagine a world that she's no longer in. I get it, she's old and she's had a long, pretty good life. She's not going to be with us forever (in person anyway), and as the recent months have shown us, she is going to face challenges as she enters the "end of life" stage (as my mother calls it). While I can accept on some levels that that's the way life goes, it's scary to think about losing her.

I know I'm lucky. A lot of people don't have their grandparents around as long as I have (hello! I'm almost 40!). Many people don't get to have the relationships with their grandparents I've been able to have with her. She knows how I feel about her, and the impact and influence she's had on who I am. And I will continue to tell her for as long as I can what she means to me.

The Ghost of Girlfriends Past

For the past year and a half I've been dating, after the demise of a six year relationship. Dating in your almost-40's is a way different beast than dating in your late 20's, early 30's. We are of an age where we all have significant relationships in our past and a lot of the things (kids, divorce, bad break ups, good breakups) that go with it.

It is what it is and I've always believed our pasts make us who we are today - they make us stronger, wiser and hopefully more self aware. We have all made mistakes that we've move on from, we have learned about ourselves - what is important, what isn't, and for many of us in the dating world, we have found our priorities are maybe a bit different than they one were. For example, I feel like dating at this age is less about finding the person you are going to marry (and procreate with if thats your thing) than it is about finding someone you can spend your off time with. Some one you can watch a movie or try new restaurants with. Go on trips together. It's not that people aren't looking for a commitment, its just the end game seems different somehow.

The other big thing I've noticed this time around is that you aren't just meeting/dating the person in front of you, you are often also dating their past. So many of the men I've gone out with in the last year - whether it be for a couple of dates or a few months, judge you and your behaviours based on exes they have dated before (even if you are very different people). For example, one gentleman, who frequently positioned himself as being very open minded, was very negative about anyone who wanted to have more than two boozy drinks in an evening. This was because his a previous partner had consumed too much alcohol overtime she went out. I appreciate that would have been difficult to deal with, however three drinks in one evening does not an alcoholic make. For the record it was okay for him to have more than three.

Months later I met another guy. Our first date was coffee. He was lovely - normal, funny, kind. All the right things. A week or so later we went out for dinner. Again, he was considerate, warm and sweet. The next day in fact we met again for coffee. I was feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time that there might be something growing between us. We set tentative plans for the following weekend. Over the next few days he grew very distant and wouldn't respond to texts (I only sent a couple with no response -I am not crazy). At the end of the wrk week, he finally responds that he didn't want to see me again because I hadn't deleted my profile from a dating site and that I was always active on the site (I wasn't - I have a job and am actually quite busy). He said a previous girl he had dated for a month or so had lied to him and said she wasn't dating anyone else but actually had been. Again, crappy for him but it seemed like he was pre-emptively getting rid of me because he was sure I'd do the same. And for the record, he never asked me if I was seeing others nor was there any talk of exclusivity after our there dates. His assumptions about me were completely based on actions of some other woman.

These are just two examples of many. I understand - getting hurt is not fun. Having people lie to you or make irresponsible decisions repeatedly that affects you is terrible. And it can be hard to get over. But no two people are alike. Having a drink doesn't make me a boozer. Having a male friend wouldn't make me a cheater. Having a credit card doesn't make me financial irresponsible. That's not how it works.

I am an individual. I am not your ex-girlfriend. I might not be perfect (far from it actually) - but I'd much prefer to be judged on my own flaws and merits rather than those of other people you used to know. It kind of makes sense, no?

Back to blogging

I haven't written in awhile. I'd like to say its because I've been galavanting all over the world with Prince Charming, but alas its more like things are crazy at work and outside of work there has been just enough chaos that things have seemed a little overwhelming. I don't write when I'm really overwhelmed - it's like the ultimate writer's block.

I thought its time to rearrange some priorities in my world and at the very least get back into updating this list. My life balance has been getting a little out of whack and I need to fix that. Not that that is a list item though :)

I haven't looked at the list in awhile and was curious to see how I'm doing with it. Turns out I have made some headway. Who knew? See below in pink!

1. Write everyday week (blog!) Okay, I need to work on this. Not because I said I would but because its something I love to do (writing) and I always feel better after I do.
2. Buy a new bicycle. Maybe in the Spring
3. Go back to school. No news here although I've given it a lot more thought and a smidgen of research.
4. Run a 5KM 10km run event
5. Do at least one random act of kindness every month. In January, I did random anonymous cards for people at work - even some people I didn't know well that just told them they were awesome. One lady went around the office telling people she thought she had a stalker and it was creepy. There is also a homeless guy that sits a block away from the office everyday. He always gives everyone a big smile and seems pretty nice. I gave him 5 dollars - I rarely have cash (like three times a year?) so it was nice to have something to give him.
6. Mail a letter a week just because. #fail. I haven't done this at all. I haven't even bought stamps
7. Read a book a month. This I'm sort of on track for. I seem to read a lot one week then nothing for a few more. Much like writing, its something I feel so good about when I do it, so I should make more time for it.
8. Take golf lessons. Hopefully this summer.
9. Plant a veggie garden.
10. Do a public speaking gig.  Done!
11. Visit Napa Valley. 
12. Go to Vegas. Booked! Might be going twice actually.
13. Travel to Ireland. 
14. Take a trip to Vancouver. Booked! Going in early March
15. See Montreal. 
16. Go to Italy. 
17. Visit Boston.
18. Explore Chicago.
19. See San Francisco.
20. Take a culinary class.
21. Start a wine collection. I've ordered a few batches through my wine club. In about four months I'll start receiving the selections. I guess I should start thinking about that wine fridge.
22. Buy a wine fridge.
23. Learn more about wine.
24. Learn to hang a picture. Properly.
25. Find a new volunteer gig. I have one tentatively - although i missed the first meeting because of a headache
26. Learn how to put air in my tires
27. Learn how to change a tire.
28. Hit 25 blood donations (I was at 20 in October). This is on hold. I might be able to squeeze one more in though
29. Sing one song by myself in Karaoke.
30. Become a mentor in a mentoring program.
31. Go for at least one hike in the mountains a month (June-September - I am not crazy).
32. Learn Spanish. At least in a basic conversational way.
33. Finish my company website (the company I own, not the one I work for). 
34. Take a public speaking course.
35. Make fresh pasta.
36. Learn to ride a motorcycle (even a little bit).
37. Walk the dogs more often, even Cricket. I'm working on this. Winter makes it tricky.
38. Lose 10lbs. I should find my scale.
39. Pay off all debt (not including my house and maybe not my car).
40. I'm not saying what this one is. Working on this ;)

It's nice to see I've made some progress even when I feel like I'm just getting by everyday.

More to come...