Friday, October 06, 2006
With Thanksgiving
My heart is filled to bursting.
I am in this amazing, raw, beautiful place. It all seems so perfect and so sweetly tragic. Life. Love. Loving someone so much that you feel certain you would give your life for them. Not being loved back. Or, worse yet, being loved back, but it still not being enough. Losing ourselves. Finding ourselves. My 404 gang - this haphazard family of women who wrapped themselves around my broken self in the spring and held on tight. The slash of the couch strewn across my living room, bereft of hope, a deserted island in a suddenly empty space. Staining furniture when I first moved in - an independent woman in her first one bedroom apartment. Crushing on Kevin who barely noticed me. Talking to Brent David in the dark of my resort office. I was so empowered as I walked the shores of the Okanagan. The birth of an idea...this website...and its creation. Knowing for the first time I could have a baby and a partner and a magic cottage and STILL be me. Ah, to go back to Saskatchewan where all these doors gape wide open, but still know that I will end up here. Letting go. Hot showers in the woods on Pender Island and hiding in my office late at night to eat walnuts and watch One Tree Hill. Seeing SJ and I emerge from our Dark Days and wondering again, like I have before, If I am not just a little bit in love with that woman. My inexplicable connection to a man with a blog who has vanished and left me with only a magical walk to remember. The bedbugs. God. Those horrible little creatures...outpicturing all that was eating at me. Repainting this apartment with my mom, tears and paint and paint and tears. The innocence of my nieces and the hard fought wisdom of my brother. Driving in my car down the number one with the radio blasting and no idea what will come next. The pain of leaving Vancouver and the relief of not having to sit here all fall job hunting. Imagine if I do end up traveling the world?
It has all been so hard. So overwhelming. So uncomfortable. The feeling of growth, I guess. It has all been so sticky and messy and real and worth it. I am so glad that I moved to Vancouver. I am so glad that I did Real Estate for awhile. I am so glad that I loved Jordan even when we he admitted that he wasn't sure he loved me anymore. I am so glad that I no longer hate him for that. I am so glad that I took Ptarmigan and sang with TWT. I am so glad that my brother and nieces are safe. I am so glad for a mother who just keeps on believing in me, no matter how many times I screw up and screw up and screw up. I am so glad that I moved all these women into my building and I am so glad that I live my life out loud, even when It pisses people off. I am glad for my friendship with god/spirit/that which encompasses all and I am glad for my faith that there is only one thing happening here despite how many names we all decide to give It. I am glad that I spent my childhood in a dance studio. I am glad that my mother had the bravery to leave my father that fateful night and teach me that even when we are most deeply afraid we can find courage.
With Thanksgiving I enter this long weekend.
I am in this amazing, raw, beautiful place. It all seems so perfect and so sweetly tragic. Life. Love. Loving someone so much that you feel certain you would give your life for them. Not being loved back. Or, worse yet, being loved back, but it still not being enough. Losing ourselves. Finding ourselves. My 404 gang - this haphazard family of women who wrapped themselves around my broken self in the spring and held on tight. The slash of the couch strewn across my living room, bereft of hope, a deserted island in a suddenly empty space. Staining furniture when I first moved in - an independent woman in her first one bedroom apartment. Crushing on Kevin who barely noticed me. Talking to Brent David in the dark of my resort office. I was so empowered as I walked the shores of the Okanagan. The birth of an idea...this website...and its creation. Knowing for the first time I could have a baby and a partner and a magic cottage and STILL be me. Ah, to go back to Saskatchewan where all these doors gape wide open, but still know that I will end up here. Letting go. Hot showers in the woods on Pender Island and hiding in my office late at night to eat walnuts and watch One Tree Hill. Seeing SJ and I emerge from our Dark Days and wondering again, like I have before, If I am not just a little bit in love with that woman. My inexplicable connection to a man with a blog who has vanished and left me with only a magical walk to remember. The bedbugs. God. Those horrible little creatures...outpicturing all that was eating at me. Repainting this apartment with my mom, tears and paint and paint and tears. The innocence of my nieces and the hard fought wisdom of my brother. Driving in my car down the number one with the radio blasting and no idea what will come next. The pain of leaving Vancouver and the relief of not having to sit here all fall job hunting. Imagine if I do end up traveling the world?
It has all been so hard. So overwhelming. So uncomfortable. The feeling of growth, I guess. It has all been so sticky and messy and real and worth it. I am so glad that I moved to Vancouver. I am so glad that I did Real Estate for awhile. I am so glad that I loved Jordan even when we he admitted that he wasn't sure he loved me anymore. I am so glad that I no longer hate him for that. I am so glad that I took Ptarmigan and sang with TWT. I am so glad that my brother and nieces are safe. I am so glad for a mother who just keeps on believing in me, no matter how many times I screw up and screw up and screw up. I am so glad that I moved all these women into my building and I am so glad that I live my life out loud, even when It pisses people off. I am glad for my friendship with god/spirit/that which encompasses all and I am glad for my faith that there is only one thing happening here despite how many names we all decide to give It. I am glad that I spent my childhood in a dance studio. I am glad that my mother had the bravery to leave my father that fateful night and teach me that even when we are most deeply afraid we can find courage.
With Thanksgiving I enter this long weekend.
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