A Summer to Remember

Cheers, remember me well if it please you!

The hour when I was to leave Kansas for at least the foreseeable future was less than a week away. One might think that this time would be filled with heart-felt sentiments and carefully scrutinized interactions to ensure that the period prior to my departure was a positive occasion for everyone. Yet with stress running high due to approaching inevitable good-byes, multiple 13-hour overnights shifts and an unluckily-timed female cycle, my Mother and I had one of the most idiotic and hurtful fights since her arrival a year ago; over wet fucking dog food. I was about to head to work when I noticed that Mom had put some of Sarge's wet food in with Charlie's dry food.  Something inside me snapped and I became irrationally upset, yelling that my dog was going to get fat (a death sentence for a Corgi). Mom immediately reacted by stating that she did nothing right in my eyes, that I always blamed her for everything and all I did was yell and bitch at her.  This hurt me significantly as I had worked very hard over the last year to repair that aspect of our relationship; to hear that I had made absolutely no headway during what could be one of our last interactions was more than my emotions could handle. I left for work feeling extremely injured.

Now, I was more than willing to take my share of the responsibility for the mishap. My addiction to control was comprehensively uprooted by this interaction, which served as the basis for my discomfort and injury. I can't control what Mom feeds Charlie after I'm gone, nor if he stays at a healthy weight. Once I was at work, however, the real crux of the ordeal hit me and I realized that what upset me beyond anything was that I can not control how people remember me once I leave. The uneasiness I felt upon this epiphany was profound, and it took me all night to even begin to process those emotions.

Long contemplation, along with some treadmill therapy, led me to a harsh truth for a control addict: All I can do is stay true to myself, be the person I want to be faults and all, and accept that people will remember me in accordance with their own perception of me, independent of how I felt I acted. I'll likely be remembered in ways that I would not have anticipated; brave, spontaneous, bitchy, sad, outspoken, vulgar (Ok, I get the last two), active, lazy, kind, and many other qualities I do not often assign to myself. I cried while admitting to my dear friend and Supervisor that my greatest fear is that my Mother will remember me only as an ungrateful bitch, never thinking of how much I loved her and how much I will miss her every second of every day, never know how much living with her throughout the last year has meant to me. Additionally, it sickens me to think that many of my friends and acquaintances will remember me only as a diet/exercise obsessed basket-case who always brought salad to potlucks, and eyed desserts with a combination of longing and disgust.

Emotionally drained, I left a simple note for my Mom on the counter the next morning. It said something to the effect of "Words spoken in hast and anger do not matter. The only thing that matters is that you know I love you." To that point, during the actual farewell nothing about that trifling affair mattered, or was even remembered. The good-bye was kept brief, each pretending to be as strong as the other, but I began to cry during the second hug and kiss. While sitting at the gate waiting for my flight, fresh tears lingering in my eyes, I was left contemplating how one fits 30 years of love into one look, one hug, one kiss. It's simply impossible, my best hope is that my loved ones know how much I care about them and will remember me in whichever way brings them the most peace and joy.

Thought of the Day 01/29/2015: The Language of Ex-Patriotism

Back in the good ol' Thousand Islands! I thought it only fitting to return to where I was born and raised before departing this country (hopefully) forever. Two weeks spent with my Sister and Brother-in-Law along with their three devilishly adorable children, as well as my Dad and Mom #2, in an attempt to have a proper good-bye.

The famous Boldt Castle, the heart of the Thousand Islands.

In accordance with the one addiction I allow myself with a degree of acceptance, I immediately took to working out every morning at the Clayton Fitness Center (which interestingly used to be a restaurant called The Caddyshack, at which my eldest Sister used to work, and where my friends and I had dinner before our Senior Ball in High School). The first morning there I noticed something that made a lot of other somethings suddenly make sense, and that initial something was the Canadian radio station being broadcasted. This is extremely typical in the Thousand Islands. Here, Canadian currency is accepted at par, the Canadian flag is proudly displayed as an equal beside its American counterpart, and the radio and TV stations are largely Canadian simply because the signals are stronger and reception clearer. It never occurred to me growing up, but the line between being American and being Canadian is blurred enough to significantly dull patriotic ideation. What's more, listening to the radio that morning made me realize that I was raised with language that likely exacerbated that point.

Earlier this week the New England area was forecasted to experience a 'catastrophic' storm, the likes of which would paralyze more than one of the Northeast's critical hubs. The Canadians on the morning radio show were, understandably, poking fun at America's proclivity for over-dramatizing such events; surmising that after all this cataclysmic anticipation only a few inches would fall and they'd be left looking a bit absurd (and that's basically what happened). The DJ's went on to say "It'll be just like the other times. What was that one crazy thing they freaked out over? Y2K?" 

While I had a hardy laugh at the remembrance of Y2K, undoubtedly the most anti-climactic incident in US history, it dawned on me that this is the language with which I grew up. It had undoubtedly influenced how I came to think and fell about the country to which I pledged my allegiance. Subsequently, I assume this is why I stopped saying the pledge of allegiance around 5th grade, getting in trouble repeatedly for my diffidence. Instead of considering myself an America, I came to think of Americans as 'those' people, people who were the butt of many a Canadian farce. I'll kindly request that my readers not become agitated at this fact since Americans have done more than their share of ripping on Canada. Who hasn't laughed at the expense of curling, 'aboots' or Bryan Adams? 

Thought of the Day 01/28/2015: Now What?!

Just before I left Hospira I was talking with one of the security guards about my forthcoming adventure. They made a statement that succinctly summarized what I was doing, but also asked a question which rendered me speechless, nearly thoughtless. I was left in such a state of anxiety and contemplation, the rest of the night was a blur. What he was was this: "So, you're doing what you’ve always wanted to do; now what?"

Now what indeed! Oh shit, I'd never given it any thought. Being said that way, it felt ominously as though something in my life was coming to an end and I, uncharacteristically, hadn't made a contingency plan. Sure, there are the obvious things to deal with upon my arrival such as booking a hostel, buying a car, getting a tax ID number and applying to jobs; but what about what really matters? What are my new life goals? Other than hiking Mt. Doom, I had no immediate plans.

One afternoon, during that whimsical time before waking and sleeping just as one awakes, it came to me: Life, that's what. Everything I've done throughout the past 30 years has been necessary to get to me to this critical point in my life, the launch into the unknown. This the not the end, this is the beginning; the journey that starts my new existence abroad. My life goal will continue to be the only one worth obtaining: Happiness.

Thought of the Day 01/15/2015: What Dreams May Come

Yesterday I had my first dream about New Zealand. I had landed and gotten out of the airport. I felt completely lost and disoriented. It was dusk and I couldn't see terribly well; I felt a bit uneasy. I was walking down a sidewalk with all my luggage trying to find my way to the hostel when I tripped and fell. When I looked up I saw something like this:

I instantly began to cry; not for fear of being in an unknown land or of all the uncertainty that lay ahead, but because I felt wholly insignificant, understood that I am but a small aspect of this earth that we all share, knew I was finally where I belonged. 

Thought of the Day 01/11/2015: Just for Fun

In my opinion there are only 3 reasons to bring an adult beverage into a bathroom:

1) Suspicions that of someone will turn it into a Mickey Finn.

Mmmm, tasty!

2) Tossing it down the toilet.

3) Alcoholism.

Thought of the Day 01/07/2015: Magic 8 Ball

My primary resolution for 2015 is to coax myself out of my addiction to control, and all the nasty shit that comes along with that obsession such as excessive meal planning, calorie counting, fanatical exercise, extreme financial frugality, etc.  In short, all the petty things in my life that bring me false comfort. I've known for a long time now that I have no real control; what others say, do or feel, and whether or not a I get hit by a jet engine that feel out of the sky.  Even still, I micromanage my life to feel the relief it yields. This trivial control, however, is a double-edged sword. On a conscious level it allows me to think I'm my own master; that no one and nothing can truly affect me. On a subconscious level, this obsession drives me mad and promotes the continual release of adrenalin and other stress hormones which push me to the edge of constant panic. I'm so set on my plans that any deviation also causes stress; double whammy! The result of all this is social withdrawal, emotional and physical exhaustion and self loathing. A succinct recipe for unhappiness, and I've had enough; but how to let go of such steadfast habits?

Today my typical schedule of Workout-Dinner-Food Prep-Lunch-Clean-German Lesson-Breakfast-Mediation-Read-Snack-Bed was upset by an early afternoon Dentist appointment, and since my workout did not come first, my entire night threatened to fall to ruin. I intended to workout after Dinner, but I did not feel very enthusiastic about that and decided to take the night off. Thinking of my new resolution, I attempted to 'go with the flow' and follow my natural inclinations. I took a bath and then felt like a nap, my Mind fretting over my atypical cascade of events all the while. Fussing over when I'd take my meals, how many calories I'd eat and what I should do in between. When I woke from my nap I had an idea, an experiment that might allow me to let go of some iota of control. I felt I should go to the gym, out of sheer habit no doubt, but also felt like a night off could do just as well. Instead of dwelling over these choices and making myself loony as I usually do, I downloaded an app that mimics a Magic 8 Ball and would make the decision for me. I asked "Should I workout?" and it said "Absolutely," so I downed a protein bar and off I went for a nice jaunt on treadmill. I immediately appreciated the simplicity of giving control over to this random computer algorithm. Since I had committed to do what it said, I felt real relief when it answered and my fretting was laid to rest.

Now, I hope its clear that I'm not going to consult my phone regarding critical life choices, but yielding control of the many, many, bits of trifling shit I constantly worry about promises more reprieve than I've known for quite awhile. For example, on my short walk home from the YMCA I asked the app "Should I restrict calories?" since I thought I had perhaps eaten more than I needed yesterday (thanks ED), and it's just reply was "Not likely." I agreed with a smile on my face and solace in my Heart.

Despite my little experiment with the 8 Ball, I think it's worth saying that the only real control Humans have involve their own decisions. Make a decision, the best One can given the information at hand, and stick to it. Afterwards I, for one, resolve to take responsibility for my choice and deal with the consequences, either good or bad. I feel no regret because I made the choice with true intention and honesty. This did not happen overnight, however, like all skills it took a great deal of practice but I'm better off for this alteration in my way of thinking.

Though happiness may come from many sources, I believe one of the purist and robust originates from spontaneous joy. Those precious moments that originate from sudden decisions that are often outside of One's comfort zone. For me this occurs when I travel, which is why I'm committing my life to that endeavor. A chance meeting, a fallen branch forcing me to take a different route, a critter or flower I've never seen before, a restaurant suggestion from a stranger, missing a train; each leads to exciting adventures that could not exist when the Mind of the planner is too rigid. True, some could turn out to be disastrous, but there's a satisfaction in that as well. I've never felt more capable and proud as when I've navigated my way through a sticky situation, based on my own good common sense and ability to keep myself alive.