.SOMETIMES RAW.

This woman I know is strong. This woman you want does not exist. Despite agreeing to split two appetizers with you and seeming, in your eyes, charmingly overwhelmed by the menu’s options, her favorite time of the day is not having dinner with you at all. Her favorite time of day is when the waiter starts coming around putting little votive candles on the tables.

However, she picked this restaurant for its big booths because they make her feel like she is falling into a giant comfortable pillow; sinking into a hug trying to seek comfort. Hugs from furniture don’t mislead her; like a cushion safely placed on her stomach and held tight that acts like a soft fender for her gut. This woman also accepts hugs from the weight of a dentist’s X-ray apron. Or from Canada Goose Jackets, nicely stacked next to each other on a rack, inviting her to fold herself into them. From going to the movie theaters by herself in the day. From resting her face against cold marble surface. From stepping into the sunlight and closing her eyes. From listening to the neighbor’s dog sigh.

Yet, she is not harsh, standoffish, unwilling and up to something. She is not narcissistic, a snob, a spy or some suspect. She is not haughty, selfish, plenty vain, but she is proud and affected of what she has achieved so far. She is looking at her own reflections in the mirror that is behind you at the restaurant. Despite your grievances, she is not withholding. She will simply not tell you anymore about the things she takes an interest in, because what she does not want is this: that you procure them from her. Why? Because you yearn for her vulnerability. Which you believe comes complimentary, like pretzels on a flight; two small bags and a smile.

Vulnerability, however, she refuses to give you because she is, after all these years, gaining back control and custody of herself which feels amazing to her. She realized that somewhere, all the way down, most things lost will eventually be found. For her, it is an everyday process of retrieval moving at the speed of someone gathering dirty laundry from the floor – silently regretting this one cardigan she bought and only wore once but she remembered when and where she bought it. She also gets distracted by the labels on the back of her T-shirts that is annoyingly so she just tears it off -most of the time leaving no hole. That’s the speed she moves at. She doesn’t like to accomplish things fast. Good things take time. She is too sensitive but got sucked in and convinced to move too quickly. She loves and is fine with that many times, her thought just come up like goop squeezed out of a tube.

Your obsession is your obsession. What absorbs you though is merely her. You believe that your fascinations, ideas, and projects have manifested her. However, she is an iceberg you have mistaken for an island – discoverable in your eyes. She is open in ways that do not attract attention, in the same manner, she attracts attention. There is a difference but neither requires your sanction. She knows what she needs – you do not have to tell her. You do not have to fix her life. Rather fix your own. Do you know when she sits somewhere and extends her neck, sits up straight and communicates her posture? She is self-confident. Are you?

This woman likes completeness, security, honesty, and this feeling that she can be herself and say whatever she wants. Lies destroy things, she never wants lies. She wishes she had an understanding for small talk, cheating or arbitrary tone when airing something considered. Also, for soft-boiling an egg. Why is this always a challenge? While she sat at a library the other day, almost uninterrupted for one hour, she readjusted her posture various times. She got distracted by the Peanut M&M’s in the vending machine. The day progressed. The library’s quiet time came to be its own noise; like artificial silence forged from real silence. Is everybody playing pretend-silence? This is one of the places she is happy. Here, she can think, read and write. She was tired of reading after one hour and thought if this is how cheating must feel. Sentences begin to float off the page and the focus becomes unfaithful, and then the book starts to flop like a fainted body. Off to the next one?

This woman finishes the chapter and looks up from her page and then down at the library’s carpet beneath her feet. There is a cord close to her desk, lengths of it, looping all over the place. The janitor has started vacuuming. The library will soon close for the night. It is time to pack her things and say goodnight.

Some choose to live a valueless, pleasure-driven and self-absorbed life. All they care about is sustaining the high a little longer to avoid the inevitable failures of their life, to pretend the suffering away. Others believe they are special and unique. They exaggerate their achievements and talents. They may take advantage of others and their behavior is arrogant. They lack empathy even though they pretend to have it. They have frequent mood swings,  are impulsive and have an unstable and fluctuating self-image. But most importantly they lack self-confidence and are insecure.

When I think of forgiveness it usually has to do with seeing blame or guilt in someone else. With great effort, I say that I forgive them. I proudly tell myself and others that I don’t have an issue with that person anymore as I have forgiven him for whatever it was I believed was an affront against myself or someone close to me. If there are cases when I then still feel uncomfortable seeing them or encounter certain situations I still have work to do. Then I have forgotten to forgive myself. What? He did X, Y, and Z to me so why should I forgive myself? Am I crazy?

When I find myself drawn into the emotion of guilt or blame (myself or others) I ask myself to go back, in my mind, to the earliest time I can remember when I experienced similar emotions. Doing so helps me realize that I had actually made a decision to believe an untruth. I chose to feel abandoned or rejected which further lead me to the mistaken belief that I was not good enough and not worthy of being loved. This emotion will inevitably come back in time and again and again until it is confronted and healed. This can be accomplished by forgiving everyone involved especially myself for choosing the erroneous belief in the first place.

I accept that I made mistakes and that it’s OKAY to forgive and to remember who I am. We are all born pure, innocent and deserve being loved. With tender persistence and loving forgiveness, we can heal spiritually, emotionally, mentally and even physically (holding on to guilt and blame will take its toll). My forgiveness is imperative. It is liberating to realize we can heal ourselves by dispelling these toxic delusions. Practicing forgiveness opens myself to receiving the love I was born to experience. Forgiveness is when I truly and lovingly release myself and others of ours and their mistaken beliefs or errors absorbed in my consciousness.

Lately, I have been curious about what makes someone great. I would define greatness as being happy and living my truth. I am curious about what separates people who are happy and those who are not. I recently read a book on happiness and was reminded that all everyone wants is to be happy. I find out more and more that our happiness is largely connected to “connection” with the “right” people. The people who, when I think about them, give me the most joy, happiness and whom I can connect with. In some sense, certain connections in my life give meaning and purpose to my life.

Whenever I put myself out there through my words and pictures, I am opening the door for potential criticism and judgment. I may also expose myself to answers and opposing views which is indeed a lot more fulfilling than stagnating in the comfort of what I already know. One important aspect is, however, to stay true to myself. I am always inspired by people who love to dream, who go beyond their fears and stand up for something they believe in. Surrounding myself with them helps me stay in a headspace that is conducive to me achieving my dreams. I have been quite vulnerable in the last couple of weeks but I received help me to connect deeper, feel less alone, be happier, more content and I have been reminded that there are always solutions when I just keep perspective. Opening up and letting people see who I truly am makes me vulnerable, however, sharing certain parts is so freeing. Asking for help is okay.

These days, I found my life to be incredibly freeing and awesome. I have been given a chance to explore different possibilities, see, experience, learn, grow, and discover new ways and criteria for fulfillment. There are so many new ways and opportunities to be happy.  I have been reminded that I am enough, that I am loved and most importantly that I love and forgive myself.

Every year I have mixed feelings about my birthday. Maybe because this number is changing so quickly and a 4 is in near sight. Or because my son asked me the other day, “Mommy how old are you going to be on Thursday?” Me, “37, Joel”. Joel, “Wow, this is very old, mommy. Like dinosaur-old”. Crickets and silence on my end. Then again, it is just a number. It dawned on me however that I spend a ridiculous amount of energy every year to decide whether I am comfortable with my approaching non-problematic birthday or not.

Is birthday anxiety a thing? Kind of how I don’t like Valentine’s Day? Or how I don’t really care about New Year’s Eve? Deep inside, the optimist in me believes that each and every birthday is going to be a memorable event. Yet, the misanthrope in me thinks that is it silly to place any type of significance on it at all since it is just a day like any other. Just a day on the calendar. Or is it the best day of the year? This is when I was born, on a Sunday at 11.30am, 37 years ago. Some birthdays in the past I do remember clearly while others are simply hazy memories. But maybe this year will be different? Am I trapped in a contradictory hoop of insanity, cynicism or hope? I am an analyst so I thought I give this birthday mystery a little bit of a stirrup by giving my birthday a little neurotic psychological spin by asking the questions, “Does my birthday make me sad?”

Three months out: “Awesome, it is my sister’s birthday on April 4th which means it is exactly 100 days until it’s my big day. Whoohoo. Maybe I should start planning something special like a one-week trip just by myself. Without my son. Maybe a retreat. Or travel somewhere with someone special?”

Two months out: “Okay, maybe this trip idea was a bit crazy. I mean, going somewhere over the weekend, maybe. It would also be cool to get my closest friends together for dinner and drinks.”

One month out: “I don’t even care about my birthday at all. Maybe I just don’t do anything. It is just another day. Maybe nobody remembers. Let me take my birthday date off on Facebook.”

Three weeks out: “Okay, I am just going to chill. Birthdays are completely overrated. I don’t care about mine. Whatever happens, happens.”

Two weeks out: ” Maybe someone is secretly planning a party or something special for me. That would be so sweet. Maybe they are just not telling me about it.  Then again, I hate surprises. ”

Nine days out: “Okay, obviously nobody dropped any hints about a secret birthday party. Just my son who asked if I invite him to my birthday party. Duh. To fully skip my birthday makes me feel weird, too. I will just plan a nice dinner with one or two friends.”

One week out: “Okay, a small dinner sounds kind of sad. Maybe I just invite a bunch of people to a big birthday dinner celebration. Whoever wants to come can come. And maybe we can all go out after? I get a babysitter. Maybe we can do it on Friday since my birthday is actually on a Thursday this year?”

Five days out: (putting the Facebook birthday notification back on. I am pathetic) “Formally asking people to celebrate with me makes me feel kind of weird. Also, most of my friends here have kids, so they won’t have time anyway. Babysitters are so expensive after all. And then how would they get along since many of them are from different backgrounds.”

Four days out: “Okay, do I even have friends? Like real friends? Maybe five really good ones. Okay, maybe just two. Or I invite everybody over to my new place/house occupied by Carleton University professors only,  to help me move furniture and decorate all night long. Maybe not a good idea. But we could spy on Erik Karlsson. Maybe also not a good idea.”

Three days out: “It is ridiculous at this point. F*** it. I am literally not doing anything on my birthday. It is on a Thursday, so nobody wants to hang out anyway. Also not on Friday.”

Two days out: “Shit, I think I actually do care about my birthday. Nobody will remember it. I have no friends.”

One day out: “I don’t know what is sadder: Not even mentioning my birthday at all, telling everyone or doing something awkward. Option number one. This is the best. Then I will enjoy a glass of red wine by myself tomorrow night.”

Actual BIRTHDAY: “It is my birthday, bitches. The world is my oyster. I tell everyone and everybody is supposed to treat me like a queen. Birthdays are so awesome. Awesome dinner, awesome conversations, and cheesecake with the ones who are very close! My psychology professor would be very proud of me.”

Let’s see what will happen within in the next year but some awesome things are already lined up. I am not setting unreachable targets and goals and just share some things I want to focus on. Firstly, I will start with things that are actually achievable or doable.

I will get into more detail but my book is in its final stages. About one or two more months before it gets published. It was a lot of work, editing, and public relations issues to deal with but I am very proud of myself.

My life is great these days even though the last couple of months were rough. I am not living in the past anymore. The past is over and I am moving on pretty nicely.  I stopped comparing myself to others and enjoy what I am doing.  I will look back at all this and think about what I have learned from that experience. Most importantly, however, I will treat myself with kindness and focus on my health. Welcome, 37!