Monday, April 20, 2015

A Lifetime of Longing - #1000Speak

I've written on here a hundred times that my mom died when I was 16. It's a topic I address a lot because it had a giant impact in who I became. I believe that one of the reasons the presence or absence of a mother greatly affects us is because (I think) we all have an innate desire to be nurtured. (I have not researched this. It's just my personal opinion.) So, I have spent most of the last 29 years longing to be nurtured.

After my mom died, I sought out some of the women in my life to be mother-figures. I yearned to be taken care of; to be a priority in another’s life like I had been in my own mother’s; to feel like I greatly mattered like I had felt with my mother.  

After my mom’s death, my aunt became my first mother-figure. Then, it was my boyfriend's mother. Later it became some of the women my father dated. I also found a mother in my sister (who is 16 ½ years older), when I lived with her for a few years. All of these women were excellent mother-figures and nurturers, yet I still carried that emptiness inside that none of them could fill.

I also longed for my boyfriend-turned-husband to nurture me as well. I remember sitting in the therapist’s office early on in our marriage, complaining that he didn’t nurture me like I needed. The therapist encouraged him to take on a more nurturing role with me. Of course, he’s always been an exemplary partner. The reason I chose him as a boyfriend/husband is because of how well he always took care of me and showed me immeasurable, unconditional love and nurturing. But again, it’s as though I had a bottomless well, that no amount of nurturing on his part could fill.

In 1999, three years after we got married, we began to try to conceive. I had always had a strong desire to be a mother. It was my number one goal in life…to be a mom. I am a caregiver by nature. In my teenage years, I was usually the “mom” of the group, looking out for my friends whenever we went out. In my 20’s, while everyone was intoxicated, I usually remained sober and in control, taking care of my drunk friends. So you see, my maternal instincts were huge from early on in life.

Friday, April 17, 2015

Serve Your Purpose, Help A Friend

Have you ever wondered what the purpose of life is? Have you ever thought about why you are here? What did you come here to do? Why did God put you on this earth? What’s this all about? What is the meaning of life?

The first time these thoughts crossed my mind was in early October 2000. I vividly remember sitting in my office at work and looking around at my desk and just thinking “What the hell am I doing here? Is this what life is about?” I had just come back to work after a week-long leave after losing my unborn baby, Gabriel. Nothing made sense to me anymore. Life didn’t make sense. And it really didn’t make sense that I was sitting in an office, managing databases, talking to clients, and awarding their sales reps with prizes for their achievements. I remember thinking “How am I making a difference? How am I making this world a better place? How does any of this matter?” I knew the answers were “You’re not and it doesn’t.”

I continued to think of every profession, business, and job…the people who manufacture little rubber parts for who knows what; the places that sell nuts and bolts; the people who make ribbons and bows; and on and on. I couldn’t stop thinking of every type of career and how silly and meaningless so much of it seemed. I wondered “Why? What are we all doing here? Is this what we’re here for? To make and sell shit? I thought of my own job. I was working as a Director in a Meeting Planning, Travel Incentive, Sales Recognition company. My job was to reward the sales people who met and exceeded their numbers with business cards, plaques, and prizes. I thought…”My baby just died and I’m supposed to care that John Smith sold 200 cars last year? This is what life is about? Really?”

I knew there had to be more to life but my quest to find the answers would wait another 12 or 13 years because I became consumed with my grief and I ended up taking another leave from work, this time for a whole month, while I tried to pick up the pieces of my life.

Since then, what I have discovered is that life is much greater than nuts and bolts and ribbons and bows. I believe we each have an individual purpose to fulfill, lessons to learn, and karmic debts to repay. But I also believe that we have a collective purpose. We are all here to serve others; to help one another; and to make a difference no matter how big or small.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Yet It Still Hurts To Say Good-Bye

Brandywine Falls, BC Canada
Photo by DanceLaughLuv

I thought I was okay, but I guess I’m not. Tomorrow I’m having gynecological surgery – an Endometrial Ablation – and today it hit me that I’m sad about it. I’m not worried or anxious about the actual procedure. My grief is more about the meaning of this surgery. I’m grieving the end of an era; the closing of a chapter in my life.

This afternoon, as I did laundry, I began to recall the numerous gynecological issues I’ve endured; the surgeries I’ve had; the familiarity of it all. I realized that my sadness is related to letting go of this wound I’ve had for so long. I’ve written before that our wounds become our friends; part of our identity. If we no longer have them, then who are we? I’ve always been the girl with the gynecological issues. So today, I wondered, who will I be now?

As I folded laundry, the surgeries of my past played out like a movie in my head while the tears spilled over onto the clothes in my hands. I recalled my emotions during each surgery…how they were always negative – full of anger, frustration, and self-pity. I always felt like “Why me?” and I suffered a lot emotionally before and after each one. 

This surgery has been different though. Two years ago, when the ob/gyn first suggested I have this procedure, I cried and told her I wasn’t ready. Because, in my eyes, this surgery is the big, fat, grand finale to my fertility struggles all those years ago. This procedure terminates any possibility of conception ever. Two years ago, I knew I would never attempt to conceive again. Today, I still know that to be true. But two years ago, I wasn’t ready to have that option taken away from me. Now I am. I made the decision to have this surgery now. I requested it because I knew it was time and I was finally ready to let go. 

Yet it still hurts to say good-bye.

Monday, April 6, 2015

Don't Be An A-Hole


Are assholes born or made? Are people born with a predisposition to assholeness?

I believe that assholes are made but I do think some people are more prone than others to become dickheads. We are all products of our environment. We all grow up believing whatever our parents led us to believe about ourselves. We all carry childhood wounds.  But all of us also possess free-will. Our wounds are not excuses to become assholes as adults. It’s up to us to decide how to live life and how to treat others.

I’ve known a lot of assholes in my life. In my older, wiser years I try to have compassion for them. I try to imagine them as children. We were all innocent, little kids at one time. We were all born with the need to be loved and nurtured. Some of us were fortunate enough to have our emotional needs met but some of us were not. So, I do try to keep that in mind when I’m dealing with an asshole. I question what made them that way? What did their childhood look like? 

Some of us were unfortunately dealt really shitty cards as kids with trauma, abuse, neglect, abandonment, loss, etc. I’ve known people from all walks of life with all sorts of childhood stories. Yet, no two are the same as adults. 

I’ve met the ones who took their adversities and turned them into blessings and became better people because of their pasts. I’ve met the ones who have remained stuck in the misery of their past and remain victims in their adult lives, expecting life to always be shitty; believing they don’t deserve any better. And I’ve met the ones who became assholes.

Whatever your past holds, leave it there. You have a choice. You really do. Choose to see the lessons. Learn from your mistakes. Atone. Show gratitude. Give love unconditionally. But more than anything, don’t be an asshole.