Why Don't You Just Come Back?

** Becky, I'm sure you already know, but this post is not about you **

I smell like smoke and tears and so much fear that even walking to my bed seems too frightening of a task to complete without perpetual self-talk. As I type these words, they seem so pathetic and I find myself shaking my head. Again. I'm not even sure why - am I shaking my head because these words won't be enough to help you comprehend how I'm feeling? Or because I'm still reeling from information overload and emotional bulimia?

3 words should give you an idea of where I'm at: I got out.

I'm here in Medicine Hat, a city of memories and disappointment and shame and unrecognized potential. My friends all have babies - beautiful lights that dance and sing and scream glorious nonsense that only a mother could understand - and I cry for them. Don't get me wrong, they are fabulous mothers and their children are loved in a way that all kids should be - but they aren't happy. They cry to me and we talk about them getting out of this city and moving to a new place where they could start over. "It's not that easy" they say, "I've got kids to think about; family to take care of".

I flashback to a conversation I had with my stepmother a week before I left this place to seek refuge under her watchful eye in Regina: "You know Jenny, you're going to have to work really hard to prove yourself now. You've made some pretty big mistakes and I'll help you fix them - but I need your word that you're ready to make a change - to put all this behind you and start again". Between sobs I manage to choke out "I'm ready - I'll do whatever it takes" and in my head I'm screaming "Please, please don't give up on me - I can't do this alone".

I sit with my friends and I want nothing more than to pack them up and drag them to my car - to take them back "home" with me and provide a better life for them. I desperately want to be for them what my Stepmom was for me. But I can't. I hold myself back because I've created something beautiful and I'm afraid to let one life bleed into the other. I'm afraid to let the colours run. I can't blur the lines between my past and my present - I can't take the chance that I'll fuck it all up again. I won't sacrifice my progress for their potential happiness.

It sounds cold, doesn't it? It's okay - I know you're thinking it. Chances are, if you're reading this you are one of my closest friends so a part of you is relieved, "Oh thank God, she's come so far - they're only going to drag her down again". And you're right, I have come so far and the odds aren't good that if I was to immerse myself in that life again, I would come out on top. Now, with that in mind, imagine you're me - sit on your friend's couch and listen to her cry about wanting a different life for herself - for her kids - see the fear in her eyes as you tell her "It's not always going to be like this - things are going to get better" and then get up, walk to your car and pull away, shivering because your voice betrayed you and her eyes exposed you - she knew as well as you did that if she didn't get out soon, things weren't going to get better.

I'm at the point where I've chosen to sacrifice the role I want to play in the lives of some of my friends, for the certainty of my own success. No matter how you spin it, it's selfish. Smart, yes. Mature, absolutely. But even in the name of self-preservation, it's heart breakingly selfish. It's not easy being that person.

Scatterlings of Africa

Meredith recently wrote about feeling like a "sell-out". I can't imagine why she would feel that way as I see her as so much more than she does. But I'm going to take this moment to write about potential. Sometimes I wonder if I'm meant to be living a grand and epic adventure. I look at the next 3 years (or so) of my life and they are pretty stable - school, work, friends, - summer, winter, fall, spring - and so on. I have a great life and if it was to continue the way it is, I would count myself even luckier than I already do. But what about all of those missed opportunities? The expanse of my future stretches before me and the plane is soft and flat - while I find that lack of threat very comforting, I squirm at the thought that I'm missing out - that I could be exhausted and excited, exploring something or somewhere that could change my life. I find myself willing a giant fucking mountain to spring up in the middle of that plane and turn my world upside down.

I don't want to miss out. I know that I have potential and I believe that I am meant for something "more" than this life I'm living now, but God help me - I want to see things. I want to be knee deep in new experiences, terrified and burdened with the knowledge that there's so much more "out there" and I don't have the time to fall in love with it all. Unbridled exploration of rivers and rainforests, people who live in trees, people who have nothing, people who have everything, the Taj Mahal, the Sistine Chapel, the Parthenon, new languages, new countries, new food - drinking myself silly in Tijuana, surfing (yes, surfing) in the Caribbean, early morning coffee in Colombia, a journey to Mecca, a journey to the mouth of an active volcano, a journey to an underwater biosphere ...

A journey to the center of everything and everyone I've ever wanted to experience. A life lived in fullness. I refuse to accept anything less.

You Are Winter

It's cold and icy and I want to lay and dream and drift in and out of the forgiveness that is sleep. With the hustle of Christmas mercifully over and the excitement of inauguration day winding down, I find myself quieting. It's nice. It happens every year. Just a couple of quiet days to balance out the hilarious mayhem that is days 1 through 363.



I've been toying with the idea of picking up writing again (also an annual occurrence). I can't help but feel under qualified - what makes my thoughts so important/interesting that I could expect someone to read them and label me a "writer"? I'm fairly typical and so is my life. The writers that I fall in love with carry an air of intelligence and humour in every word they commit to paper - I would never put myself in such a lofty category. What is it that qualifies one to do what they love? Is it the mere fact that they love it? Or is there something else - something bigger and more important that turns a blog and a diary into a novel or a sermon into a soul-stirring devotional?

I don't think I'll be able to commit to writing again until I understand what it is to truly love something while devoid of the confidence needed to pursue it. I feel like I owe writing more than my "best shot". I feel like writing deserves my heart on paper - how do I do that when I can't even wear my heart on my sleeve? Maybe that's it. Maybe writing is my heart, on my sleeve, on paper. Now I wonder what that would look like ...
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Stars and Stripes

"Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations." - Barack H. Obama

About 45 minutes ago (my time), the US made history and inaugurated the 44th President of the United States. He's unconventional, unwavering and under a lot of pressure to sort out the cluster-fuck that has become the US economy. I personally wish him all the best.

Today I wish I was American.
Today I wish I was there.
Today I wish that the kind of hope I feel for the US, could be the kind of hope I feel for Canada.

It's the beginning of his term and he's already a history-maker.

Today I prayed God would protect him and his family from the slander, scandal, violence, and defamation that tends to befall those in leadership.

And today I prayed he'd live up to the hype.
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Imagine

A conversation about John Lennon.

Me: Did you know that Mark David Chapman (*the man who shot and killed John Lennon*) still receives death threats in prison to this day?!

Loud Guy: That'd be like my Mom writing death threats - she'd be about Lennon's age.

Me: Yeah, but there's a whole new generation of Beatles fans that probably write to him now.

Loud Guy: Yeah, knowing your generation, they were gonna write a letter but they just couldn't be bothered. Instead of a letter he got an e-mail. And all that e-mail said was:

Dear Mark,

:(

Signed,
A New Generation of Beatles Fans.

**Loud guy is so rarely funny, but this tongue in cheek commentary on my generation was oddly fitting AND hilarious.
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Boy, Don't Try To Front ...

I don't like it when people who are wearing tank tops (or sleeveless shirts in general) put their arm around me. Like, OVER my shoulder. I really don't like it. It FREAKS. ME. OUT.

Either their naked, deodorized arm-pit is resting directly on my shoulder, leaving a white mark on my (probably) black shirt OR their naked, NON-DEODORIZED arm-pit is resting directly on my shoulder. Meaning their b.o. is now on my clothing. Meaning I have to burn that shirt cause that smell stays in your clothes.

It's disgusting and it really freaks me out. Hugs in the summer-time cause me to have a mini (but severe) panic attack.
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Carousel

I don't like New Year's resolutions. They put so much pressure on people to stick to unreal expectations for a 12 month period - I mean, if this change is so drastic and important that you feel guilty for not sticking to it, shouldn't it be something you vow to do regardless of the time of year? That's just how I feel. I don't make resolutions anymore - I just try to better myself. One day at a time.

One of my favourite co-workers is not in today. When I asked where he was, my boss informed me that his brother died yesterday and he obviously had things to sort out. I'm shocked - I've never met his brother but we've talked about him. They were close and getting closer as his brother had recently moved to Regina. Very few people in my life share my strange little idiosyncrasies - one in particular. I organize my M&M's into their respective colours and then organize them into lines, then eat how ever many I need to until they form a little M&M-type graph from least to greatest. I recently discovered that my grieving co-worker shares this strange habit. So, in honour of him, while organizing my M&M's today I prayed for him, his family and anyone else whose life has been touched by this tragedy. I invite you to join me in prayer if you feel moved to do so.
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Movie Love

Let's review: Sleepless in Seattle, The Notebook, Away From Her, Titanic, You've Got Mail, Pretty Woman, Penelope ... and there are hundreds more. Love stories. Epic romances that leave you breathless and hopeful that it may some day happen to you. I know some of them are more "epic" than others - you certainly can't equate Titanic with Pretty Woman, but they have the same feel don't they? Enduring, conquering love in impossible circumstances. They always make you yearn; make you wonder if it's even possible to love like that.

I love any kind of love story. I truly do. I love how uplifting and passionate they are and how they try to bring us back to a time when love used to mean something - really mean something. It wasn't just tossed around casually or used as a bribe or withdrawn as a punishment. Love used to be epic. I believe in the enduring, epic nature of love.

I believe in movie love. I believe in Love.
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Joyful and Triumphant

It's Christmas Eve Day and I'm pretty much ready for Christmas. I need to pick up a couple more things for Tina but they're little and shouldn't take too much time. Isn't it sweet how optimistic I am? How innocent? Like I'm not going to be knee deep in shotgun shell casings after trying to elbow my way through Wal-Mart at 3pm.

I can't believe the year is drawing to a close! I won't recap (re-recap) my year and how much I've enjoyed it, but it has definitely been a year of change. Merry Christmas, one and all. I leave you with a recent conversation with my boss:

Me: Did you know that Tarsiers have eyes that weigh more than their brains!?
T: Reminds me of someone I know ...
Me: You know T, there's something to be said for walking away from an easy burn every once in a while.
T: But where's the fun in that?! Speaking of which, nice hair.
Me: You don't mean that.
T: Sure I do! I hear looking like a witch is very "now".

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Let It Rain!

**
Life, 3 Words:

God: my Father
Jesus: my Prince
Holy Spirit: so near
School: 4 classes
Work: busy fun
Home: peace, joy
Car: free, loud
Tina: home, happy
Muss: far, funny
Kiki: motivator, chef
Papers: both 92%
Weather: cold, Christmas
Shopping: not done
Money: too little
Family: too far
Friends: too many
Love in abundance

'Tis the Season.
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I Think We're Alone Now

**
I've been working so much lately that I've almost forgotten what an 8 hour day feels like. With Tina being home and it being "year-end" at work, I've had next to no time to just sit and be. Man, I miss just "being".

Sometimes I miss the quiet of an uneventful life. I miss being bored on the weekends and having no one to hang out with. I live with one of my best friends - I am never bored. Please don't think I'm complaining because I'm absolutely not. I'm just tired and I want to have one of those days where I can feel free to behave like a total a-hole and it doesn't matter cause no one's around to see it.

Year-End is finally over and I'm bloody thankful. I am going to home to bed.
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Commencing Countdown, Engines On

***
I'm not sticking to the rules. I cannot be contained. I refuse to excuse or explain my excitement.

I. AM. OVERJOYED.

Tina's home. Source of all things light and lovely and perfect. These are not lofty accolades, believe me - when you're with her, you'll understand. It's not fair that I had to be without her for a whole year, it's not fair that we didn't share our birthdays or Christmas or Thanksgiving, it's not fair that she came back looking all glowy and hip and I'm always wearing yesterday's clothes. But you know what is fair? She still knows me. We've both changed and grown and evolved into better friends, sisters, daughters etc, but man, she knows me.

I love that even when everything is crazy and I'm working 14 hour days and I'm messy and spontaneous and irrational - I'm treasured by her. Because to her, all these things are familiar yet new. She's known me as messy, spontaneous and irrational all her life - but now she's experiencing them all over again. Unfortunately for her, I've preserved some of my not-so-nice qualities as well and over time she'll grow to dread them but for right now, we're enjoying getting to know each other all over again.

And you know what I'm figuring out?

Things makes sense when Tina's around. And I LOVE when things make sense.
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Yellow Bird

Today I came to the realization that I am not seeking relevance or validation. Today I came to the realization that I am not seeking love, affection or even positive reinforcement.

Today I came to the realization that I am relevant, validated, loved, affected (ha!) and reinforced.

Today I came to the realization that I am 100%, tips of my toes to the top of my head bathed in yellow sunlight, heart combustingly HAPPY. And not only happy, but satisfied. I finally feel like my life means something.

I guess ... today I came to the realization that the search is over. Call off the dogs. I know who I am.
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To The Left, To The Left.

*
I have an irrational fear of the dentist. Like, I'm the girl sitting in the waiting room quietly sobbing into a 6 month old Us Weekly. I don't know what it is. It's not THAT uncomfortable, but I cry through the entire appointment. The tears start right after giving my name to the receptionist and stop when I'm driving home. And don't even get me started on when I'm actually IN the chair. I shake uncontrollably. We're not talking a little quivering, we're talking full body SHAKING.

The last time I went, I cried and shook so much that the dentist had to leave the room for 20 minutes (read: an ETERNITY when you're about to get a needle in the gums) because he was laughing so hard. Imagine the crying and shaking and me trying to say through that terrible dental dam "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me. I know it's not going to hurt that badly. I'm so sorry" and all the dentist hears is "Ah owwy, ah ohn oh as ong eh ee ...". Just typing about that rubber trampoline they put over your mouth (read: half way down your throat so you can't swallow or breathe) makes my mouth water and my stomach churn.

In case you couldn't tell, I'm about to make my first dental appointment in 2 years. Scratch that. 3 years. Oh God ...
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That Which Is Senseless ...

I work in a machine shop. 15 boys and ME. Sometimes they say the funniest things and it really makes my day. On Monday one of the guys is having a birthday and Muss is making him an awesome cake. It's making him crazy that I won't tell him what the cake is shaped like (they're always personalized to what each guy likes) and thus, the following conversation:

Guy: Gwen! Tell me what kind of cake you're making me.
Me: No way, it's a surprise.
Guy: Why?! You told me what all the other guys were getting!
Me: Yes but I didn't tell THEM ...
Guy: Well I did! What can I say? I'm a chatty Kathy!

I lost it. SO funny.
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Stay ...

No longer lost, or wandering or scared
Chasing a fountain for wishing
Running and frantically checking
Over my shoulder, my past

Not one to find myself in another
Or allow this heart to be held
Please keep your distance, I can't let you
Touch me, keep me or change me

Shifting from one left foot to another
Tripping on best laid plans
Trying so hard to look ahead, only to find
What I'm looking forward to has already passed

Today, a new plan, a new day, a new hope
I choke on emotion as I deeply inhale
Change is laced with grace in the air
Forgiveness and freedom surround me

Welcome to this brand new place
White and breathlessly golden
Lacking in pretention and expectation
It's peaceful, it's light, it's home.
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I've Got a Friend Who Loves Me

We had a party last night. MY party. A table full of friends, super good food and I didn't pay a cent (by the way, ladies, who paid for that?!). The night ended, friends parted and I drove home warm and happy. When I got home I was greeted with half a dozen missed calls and a couple frantic voicemails. A crisis - a friend in trouble - desperation from 5 hours away. That's one of the world's worst feelings - complete helplessness. I was called to comfort a friend who was hysterically crying and wanted nothing more than to end it all so she didn't have to feel the pain anymore. "You're the only one who can talk to her, Jen" translates in my head as "You're the only one who can save her!". Welcome to my crippling Saviour complex.

My desperation to ease her distress is nothing compared to her pain. I can't relate, I can't even empathize. I want to rescue her. Everything in me is screaming "Go to her! Don't let her do anything drastic! You'll never forgive yourself if something happens to her!", but then, THANKFULLY, I hear the voice of God whispering "It's okay, you comforted, you calmed and now the rest is up to her. Rest - please. You need to rest".

I'm so lucky. I have more than most - more that anyone, really. If you're reading this, I love you. Please, please know that. I love you guys and I'll always be here. You may roll your eyes and say "I know, I know" but seriously - stop for a second (RIGHT NOW) and consider this: I LOVE YOU. I'll always love you. I can't keep you safe, I can't protect you from pain or disappointment but for fuck sakes girls - I love you. Everything in me wants everything in you to FEEL and KNOW that.

Please know that.
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Hands Open, Eyes Open

So long, 23 - move over and make room for 24! While I gleefully anticipate what this next year of my life will bring, I can’t help but feel the need to pay tribute to the past year – full of drama and confusion but SO much fill-me-up to overflowing, shiny, dandy LOVE. In the spirit of the day – enjoy:

23 Reminiscents of 23

During this past year:

1. I’ve worked 2 jobs, 17 hours a day, barely sleeping and still not making ends meet. One year ago today, I wasn’t happy.
   
2. I’ve swallowed my pride and asked for help.
   
3. I’ve quit 2 jobs and accepted one - overpaid, underworked and delighted. Every day.
   
4. I dated an amazing guy and realized through his example, that good relationships DO exist.
   
5. I’ve lived in an apartment with one of my best friends and now live in a house with one of my best friends.
   
6. While living in the aforementioned apartment, we were visited more by the police than friends/family.
   
7. Never once were the police there to see us.
   
8. I adopted a beautiful sponsor child.
   
9. I’ve started University and am an "A" student (so far).
   
10. I’m settled into a Church that I love and truly feel is my home and family.
    
11. I’ve developed even more idiosyncrasies – mostly involving the control/elimination of germs and bacteria.
    
12. I haven’t missed living in Ireland. I’ve missed the kids and the shops – but not the lifestyle. Never.
    
13. I finally launched "Every Avenue" – prayer and worship for youth. Freedom..
    
14. I’ve missed my sister ever day since she’s been living in England.
    
15. I’ve seen friends pregnant and then I’ve seen them as mothers. Watching them - I’ve been overwhelmed with pride.
    
16. I’ve found and re-connected with long lost friends and family.
    
17. I’ve been consumed with hurt, anger, bitterness and the sting of betrayal.
    
18. I’ve gotten over it.
    
19. I bought a laptop and now can’t believe I ever lived without it.
    
20. I’ve learned that it’s OKAY that I think gay people should be allowed to get married, and women should be allowed to choose what happens to their body, and I can believe those things and still love Jesus.
    
21. I’ve watched the U.S. change the course of history by electing an African American President. Hope on a podium. Hope for Darfur. Hope for my generation.
    
22. I have made new friends and been accepted into their families.
    
23. I have loved deeply and recklessly and I’ve been loved the same way.
    

Whatever Tomorrow Brings, I'll Be There

My sister is hilarious. She really is. We can make a joke about pretty much anything - this is especially easy when she's in one of "those" moods. Enjoy our most recent conversation:

Tina: I hate those girls who aren't happy unless every guy is in love with them. Some of us would be happy with ONE guy - even if he's ugly! I mean, look at you and So-and-So.

Jen: *gasp* TINA!

T: (laughing hysterically)

J: He was really nice, okay?!

T: Oh he was nice, was he?! He didn't BEAT YOU? That's nice.

J: Tina! Stop ... (laughing too)

T: Was he deep, Jen? Was he troubled, like Joaquin Phoenix? Did he have deep inner thoughts?! Was it his sense of humour? Was he smart?? Need I go on!?

J: (wheezing)

T: (wheezing)

J: I can't believe you're wheezing.

T: All I know is he's gotta have brawn. I don't even know what that IS, but he's gotta have it!

Come home, Teen. Come home and we'll rustle you up some "brawn" - whatever that is.
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I'm Having Such A Good Time, I'm Having A Ball

So, Muss blogged about why she loves her job - so allow me to blog about why I love mine. And by that I mean "why I don't entirely despise my job" because I was here until 11pm last night trying to catch up for month end and I'd be lying if I said I loved it today.

I sat in my boss' office this morning and stared straight through him until I could remember why I was there in the first place. While I was doing so, he noticeably glanced at my hair. Now, as I said - I was here late last night, got home with just enough time to chat with a very tired and disheveled Kiki, have a text-versation with Josh, wash my face and get to bed by 1am. So I'm exhausted - and, I'm not ashamed to say - not looking my best.

So here's how the conversation went:

Me: What the hell was that?
T: What was what?
Me: You looked at my hair. Don't do that. Don't look at my hair like that.
T: (laughing) I was just thinking that it looks better than it did yesterday when you had a paperclip holding back your bangs.

I'm beginning to think we've gotten too comfortable with each other.
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