‘Tis the Season

When I was about 15, I received a tiny pink sweatshirt with Mickey Mouse on it.  It looked like it was made for a 9-year-old.  I also bagged a hot pink and gold encrusted lockable diary, and a packet of that generic makeup stores always breakout around the holidays.  Again- hot pink was the featured colour.

Mind when I was three, in ballet I insisted I be allowed to wear a black unitard instead of the standard pink, and apparently caused such a fuss they almost booted me from class.  However, there is a photo of a triumphant me in black, my sister next to me posing in traditional pink. 

Basically, if you’ve met me, you know I’m not a girly-type-girl.  Not that there’s anything wrong with liking pink, but I had so vehemently defined myself out of the starting gate as a tomboy and anti-pink, that receiving not just one, but many gift with the offending hue made me wonder if anyone paid any attention to me.  Not an unusual feeling for a young shy kid from a huge extended family.

A real eye-opener came when I was complaining about my “gifts” and word came one of my mother’s friends home had caught fire.  They lost everything just before Christmas.  They happen to have had a nine-year-old daughter, so all of my gifts were re-wrapped, and passed on.  I heard she loved them. 

I’m glad it worked out, and they got back in their feet, but that feeling has always stayed with me.  Me me me- and then tragedy strikes and reminds you what really matters.  Sure, it makes you feel small for a time, but I think it helps keep things in perspective.

My uncle passed away last Sunday.  The holidays are approaching, and I know things are going to be hard for his family.  I wish I could do more.  I wish I had a gift that could make everything better.

Awkward Post is Awkward

Last night I was part of an awkward group hug.  I’m also the one who made it awkward, I realize, but it’s hard not to when the guy you like hugs you, and you know you can’t be with him.  I even said, “Awkward acknowledgement of hug” in case there was any question. I felt more awkward after I said it.  Awesome.

It’s almost been a month, but I’ve been missing him texting me all the time, and updating me on his life.  There was a few times when we hung out in a group, but it’s different than when we would sit together in his car, him sharing a song with me, or just talking.  I need to not dwell on that, but when you’ve almost resigned yourself to never meeting someone and then you meet a fantastic person who feels like your match, it’s crushing that they’re taken.  So I’m trying to get over it.  Trying.

A major reason why I haven’t seen him much, other than I think he’s trying to distance himself from me (which I understand), is things have been pretty hectic, family wise.   My uncle is in the hospital for the past three weeks, almost a month.  He was a fire fighter for twenty-five years who travelled all over North America coordinating large scale fire battles (is that what they’re called? If not, they should be.).  As a result he has two types of lung disease, Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder (COPD), and Interstitial Lung Disease (ILD). It’s common amongst fire fighters to develop these conditions.  And it doesn’t look good. 

So my aunt was staying with me in my tiny apartment for two weeks, and then over another week my cousins joined too, so there were four of us in my tiny one-bedroomed apartment.  I spent a good deal of that time on a camping cot in my living room, and driving them to and from the hospital on my way to and from work, and spending my evenings at the hospital.  I had previously considered med school and thus had taken a medical terminology class, and volunteered in a paediatrics ward when I was in high school, so I have a basic grasp of medical language.  Thus, I’ve been liaising a bit with the doctors and nurses on behalf of my aunt and uncle so they understand what’s going on and can make the best decisions in a terrible situation.

It’s been a tough time.  Last week we got them into a lodge (apartment building, really), across from the hospital, so that’s good.  They can walk over whenever they want, and I have my space back.  Man, have I missed my bed.  Not that I regret helping out.  I have a fairly large family, but so many of them are selfish or I just never connected with.  This uncle is one of the good ones, and I’ve always really gotten along with his wife.  So this has been rough.  My mum thanked me the other day for keeping her and the other aunts updated, and all I could respond was they would do the same for us. 

I’ve been trying very hard to stay strong.  For them.  For me.  But it also strikes me as weird that when tragedy strikes, I somehow become a robot who deals with the unpleasant side of things.  When my cousin died last year, that was me again, dealing with the police, doctors, coroner...  Now my uncle is in the hospital, and I had to explain to him and his wife that when they transfer him off life support to a BiPAP oxygen mask, things could go wrong so they needed to make some tough decisions.  It was the first time my aunt broke down crying in front of me because I couldn’t sugar coat that he could die right then and there. 

Nothing makes you feel shittier than destroying someone’s sense of hope.  But they had to be prepared.  Thank goodness it was a best case scenario where he’s doing much better on the BiPAP.  Maybe as a pessimist I insulate myself to the shit, but the upside is sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised.  It’s somewhat short-lived though, as his condition is so severe he doesn’t have much more time, but another day or two or week makes all the difference for my giving and loving aunt.  It’s been amazing seeing their love and dedication to each other through all of this.  Love exists.  I would have never fucking believed it, but there it is.

On top of all of this (But wait! There's more!), my dance troupe has a show this weekend, so I’ve been burning the candle at both ends.  Work.  Hospital.  Prep for show. Drive errands.   Rehearse.  Make sure my aunt eats.  Make sure I eat.  Updating my cousins on their dad’s condition because they don’t want to see him on life support. I find when I’m stressed my natural inclination is to push down feelings, and drink.  Those are usually opposing factors, so I’m feeling drained.  After this show, Imma sleep forever maybe.  Like being dead without the commitment, as I once read.

One of the strangest things that has come out of this, is that I found myself staring at my uncle as he was resting one night.  I had sent my aunt to get herself some dinner.  She doesn’t want to go to a real restaurant so she can be close to him.  I found myself wondering if someone would ever love me that way.  I found myself wishing, just for a moment, that I could take his place so they could have more time with each other.

Maybe that’s why I help in these situations.  It makes me feel something.  I can’t handle the emotions on one level, so I channel it into busy work.  To distance myself so I don’t really feel it, I throw myself in head first.

Awkward acknowledgement of feelings.

One week.

A week has passed since my friend died, and I’ve awkwardly stumbled my way through the emotions. I’ve discovered that when serious situations strike, I need to be kept busy. Maybe so it doesn’t make me think as much.

I met Young Engineer through my friend, the Overanalyzer about 5 years ago. Hard to believe it was so long ago. He was still a teenager, and I in my mid-20’s at that point, but we got along swimmingly. He was incredibly intelligent, cute and quirky. He and my friend dated for over 3 years. When they broke up it practically broke O. I cannot imagine what his death did. I didn’t know what to do but apparently decided that food was the answer. I guess now when death occurs I turn into an Italian grandmother or something. I insist on cooking and feeding people.

I bought a severe amount of groceries and went over to O’s after I returned from Vancouver. I wanted to spend time with him, but needed a project. I hate sitting around when someone is sad. So we made pizza from scratch, and stuffed some peppers, and tested out a pasta salad. Considering I am just learning how to cook, it all came out fantastic, but the best part was O’s mum saying how happy she was O was eating something. I guess seeing food made over a few hours builds an appetite.

We talked about Young sporadically while making the dough and stuffing the peppers. Young and I had talked about depression a few times in the past. I struggle with it, and had a bad bout when I was 15. I told him what it took for me to get a hold of myself and move on, and he told me how he felt. We both criticized the methods of current drug prescribing practices, and what it took us to keep going. I mentioned that a big turning point for me was the old saying, “I would die for you.” I used to use that a lot at my worst. But then, I would die for just about any reason back then. It wasn’t until I thought of my mum (after I had been institutionalized) that it occurred to me that it meant more to live for someone. I felt I could die for anyone? Big deal. Living for someone was a hell of a lot harder, and I set that as my new goal. If for a while I could at least live for my mum, then maybe one day I could live for myself. I am mostly there now.

It hurts me that Young couldn’t do that for himself. It hurts me that there was more we could have talked about. It hurts me that we lost touch this past year and that he made the choice he made. But he doesn’t have to live with it, we do. O does. His friends and family do. I can’t blame him though, he’s already blamed himself enough. But, I miss all the things we talked about. It’s funny how death stains life so much. We used to sit at my place, with our friend Butler making us waffles while we watched cartoons. When I saw waffles the other day I started crying. Stupid, really. But I did. I am again.

So I made pizza because I didn’t know what to do. We ate, and later on I went home. And I thought about who and what I would live for. Does an event like this make you cherish life more? Or do we instead focus so much on the hollow, gaping holes in life that we lose ourselves? I’ve felt without purpose for a while now, but have been making a life for myself, slowly. Yet this makes me feel more awash at sea. No land in sight. And it’s night. But there is something peaceful about that to me. On a boat. The moon shining down. And I am alone. Then there is peace. I have chosen the boat instead of the sea. And for now, that is enough.

Rest.

highs and lows...

This past weekend was... messed up. Seriously surreal. To be honest, I am still a bit in shock over the series of events.

First off, I was experiencing a bit of a low. I am part of a dance troupe and we were going to Vancouver to perform at a festival. Should be a highlight (we were looking forward to it all year), and while indeed it was a coup, I was also kind of frustrated that because we had overbooked the show and then found out we had far less time than originally thought, my part got severely cut. The troupe leader asked me how I felt about it before we left, and I had to admit that considering how we had booked everyone else my part was the logical part to cut. But yes, it still bugged me. I wanted to go and wow those people, and instead I was reduced to sound clips. But again, it was my call, too. We could have cut our guest dancer, but she helped organize the festival, and I didn't want to be "that chick".

So we went, and we had an awesome motel! High! And I really get along with my dance troupe, so that was fun! And the area was filled with interesting restaurants! Chic shops! The festival itself was a blast! So many great shows and fantastic performers! Super high! I was really enjoying myself and looking forward to meeting everyone, and thought, 'Hey! Maybe I'll meet a guy!'

A few other girls in the troupe were single like me a while back, but have since met great men they are now dating. I was happy that they found someone, but a little frustrated that I don't seem to have that ease at meeting men. So was it selfish that I was kind of glad that one of my friend's who is now going through a divorce would be single in Vancouver with me? She even told me how much she was looking forward to having Girl's Nights Out. I was stoked.

Then she met a guy. Yep. The first night out. He wound up hanging out with us every night we were there. He was one of the lighting techs, so had access to all the same parties we did, which really helped with his hooking up with my friend. Good for them. Bitter for me. I know I should be glad she was able to have a fling of sorts, and get 'back into that game', but I can't help but feel I was once again the third wheel.

I tried to put it out of my mind and focus on having a good time. I decided I would try and flirt with someone. Another troupe had a really funny emcee, and in my mind funny = sexy, so I got up the nerve (translation = had a few drinks to get the nerve) to talk to him . Proud of me? Don't be. He barely even looked at me. My friend's kind of laughed it off for me, saying, "Wow, Friday. You tried talking to a guy who is even shyer than you around the opposite sex!" Shy? Or just not at all interested? Well, crap. Can I pick 'em or what?

So finally I decided that was it. Just enjoy the festival for what it was, and take in all the dance, all the glitter, and all the energy. Suddenly my phone went off. It was a friend back home asking if she could call me. Was it a good time? I found a quiet area and took the call. A very good friend of ours had just committed suicide.

I was in shock. I don't remember much else. I was pretty robotic the rest of the night, and for the rest of the trip. The memorial was yesterday, and I didn't go. I couldn’t go. I didn’t know how to feel, how to act…. it's still not real to me. I'm rather on autopilot, except now I keep looking back at my weekend before the phone call, and think how stupid I was being. But then my friend pops back into my mind, and I know he had a lot of the same problems as I did. Problems expressing myself, problems with relationships. And then I feel a tiny crack in my heart. I feel something try and leak out, and it's like it stains outwards, across my chest. And then I freeze again. And I feel stupid that I think my problems are so trivial. And again I remember how much we had in common, and it starts all over again, the crack getting bigger, the stain spreading.

I'm glad my friend met someone. We all need to have someone in our lives. Even if it's just for a while.