Feeling A Little More Like Myself

This weekend has flown by. We’ve finally got chairs for our dining room, a bookshelf for the living room, and a menu for our three days of holiday entertaining. All the shopping (for our families) is done and I’ve got a new pair of winter boots that don’t leak. It was non-stop yesterday and that compounded with a terrible night’s sleep means I’m a little groggy today as I finish up editing my latest Classic Start.

We went to see The Constantines on Friday night for their 10th anniversary show. We had a grand old time. I did a lot of yelling and shouting. And dancing. And singing along. There was a moment where I thought it would be a fantastically fun idea to dive into the mosh pit as if I were in my early 20s again. A moment of teasing and an insistence on crowd surfing happened, and I changed my mind. On the first week of January, it’ll have been five years since I was let go from Alliance Atlantis, and listening to the Cons made me think of that time again. I listened non-stop to Shine a Light record the summer before they “reorganized” me out of a job. I played it loud and obnoxiously at work when I was there late, frustrated by the lack of support I received, frustrated by the bad management, leaving work tired, angry and upset most days. It was no way to live. But I’m a sensitive girl, and the whole experience left its mark. It’s funny — there’s an element of karma to the fact that the woman who made all of our lives so miserable was herself out of a job a couple of years later and I’ve certainly moved on to a better place.

Perspective isn’t really something that can be taught. It’s like a simple shift in point of view in a narrative — you know that it’ll tell the story better but you’re so wrapped up in the writing you can’t separate yourself from it. I’m a goal setter but that doesn’t necessarily make me a goal getter. I’m not big at risks. I’ve always been afraid to take a leap without having something holding me up. For the most part, that’s my RRHB. He has the most reassuring shoulders. I can always find him in the crowd.

And so I’ve been contemplating what’s next. This year has been so difficult, the one year anniversary of losing my mother, the appendix nightmare, the lack of a proper vacation — it’s all taken its toll. I’m finding myself rushed and irritable, frustrated by the lack of momentum in my life, but always recognizing that every inch equals a decision. Perhaps I should have entered the mosh pit — age and tragic hip be damned. But I had just as much fun from the sidelines surrounded by friends, and remembering that even if I’m lonely most days, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me. I should be brave enough for it not to matter. I should know what’s really important.