Well, here I am again at another one of those cross roads in my life. I was laid off from my job of 4 years a couple of weeks ago and it has driven me into a funk. I was feeling sorry for myself, not knowing which way to go, what to do. Yesterday I went to church for the first time in a LONG time. I went to the Anglican Church because it was what was familiar, it was so dull and boring. It just didn't lift my spirits at all. So I will have to explore my options to see if I can find something that will meet my needs.
I went into the city to do some Christmas shopping, and I took myself out for lunch. I went to the Olive Garden and thought of Pat. Man would she ever be annoyed with me and the pity party that I have been on. I know that I need to redefine who I am and what I want to do with the rest of my life. When I think of Pat and all that she went through, I have nothing to really complain about do I? Thing of her and the boys living in that tiny basement apartment and being so happy. I have the man of my dreams, my health, a fabulous family. So much to bring me joy and happiness.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Thursday, October 6, 2011
The Roaming Girl....tolerated.
It's so strange to wake up one day and just feel different. More alive, like something has just clicked. I'm not sure if it's the blogging, but what ever it is I am truly thankful about it. I had been slipping into a pit, the fingers of depression were reaching out to me. I was fighting against the hold that they can get over a person. SO what ever it is that is happening, I am happy about it.
The little girl roaming, looking for something, wanting to be noticed. I started to talk about that yesterday. How I felt about my home life. Being far removed from my siblings because of age and general differences. My sister was just grumpy, and well my brothers were boys. My older brother tolerated me, I know that he loved me, but I was an aggravation. My younger brother was just that, younger, I became the one that tolerated him.Sometimes that is how I feel, that I am tolerated. That I have been tolerated.
I have memories of my early childhood, but I am not sure if they are resident memories, or ones that have developed as a result of the retelling of stories about me and/or that time in my life, or are they based on things pieced together from stolen moments from the old 8mm home movies. I do know that I had an Aunt and Uncle that loved me dearly and spoiled me rotten, until they had a child of their own, which was when I was six.
A thought just hit me, that in my minds eye I see myself as a person of little or no consequence.
The little girl roaming, looking for something, wanting to be noticed. I started to talk about that yesterday. How I felt about my home life. Being far removed from my siblings because of age and general differences. My sister was just grumpy, and well my brothers were boys. My older brother tolerated me, I know that he loved me, but I was an aggravation. My younger brother was just that, younger, I became the one that tolerated him.Sometimes that is how I feel, that I am tolerated. That I have been tolerated.
I have memories of my early childhood, but I am not sure if they are resident memories, or ones that have developed as a result of the retelling of stories about me and/or that time in my life, or are they based on things pieced together from stolen moments from the old 8mm home movies. I do know that I had an Aunt and Uncle that loved me dearly and spoiled me rotten, until they had a child of their own, which was when I was six.
A thought just hit me, that in my minds eye I see myself as a person of little or no consequence.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
The Roaming Girl, moves along
Just how do you know when you've said enough on a blog post? Are there rules that one is supposed to abide by? Oh well, the chances of anyone ever reading this are so slim that I guess that it doesn't really matter. I'm not trying to be negative about this, but seeing how I don't really plan on telling people I know where to find the blog, it will only be random people that stumble upon it and may they will be intrigued by the ramblings of a middle aged woman and read this and possibly post a comment. Maybe someone will recognise themselves and their struggles or joys in what I have written. One will have to wait and see. I know that it is "working" for me, I am finding a certain amount of peace in capturing my thoughts, feelings and memories here.
I was just going to say "I digress...." not writing about the roaming girl, but I am writing about her, for she is me! Always with me. That little girl so full of life and questions, talking her way through life. Talking with friends, family and strangers alike.
Words, spoken and written are the thread that continues to piece my life together.I just want to write and write and write. So much to say, so many feelings to try and capture. This is not so much different than that little girl, visiting ,wanting the company of others, always feeling alone. Feeling so disconnected from family, having a sister that was 9 yrs older wasn't such a great thing. We were always separated,not only by age but by our personalities I know that she loved me, but we had little more than genes in common. I was blond and outgoing, interacting with people easily, while she was dark haired, dark complexion and had inherited my paternal grandmother's dour personality. it's strange because according to my mother she started out in life a lot like me, outgoing and inquisitive. We shared a room and I think she felt a bit put out about the whole thing. Because of sharing the room I really believe in sleep learning. I know all the words of the popular songs of the 60's.
It's really strange when I think of her when we were growing up. I always admired her, thought that she was so popular, so with the "in" crowd. There were always lots of her friends over, she did all the right things. Listened to the popular bands, did her hair, had lots of boyfriends.I don't remember the sour side of her, my mother says that it was there for most of her life and cost her many relationships. I only remember her ever getting really mad at me once before she got married. Weird isn't it?
Then when I was a teenager I so wanted the life that she had had, not the mixed up convoluted life I led.Where did she come from, that crazy teenager? That Little Roaming Girl... that's where. The little girl looking for a place to belong, to be important, to be noticed. The little girl who loved her Dad, and couldn't understand his coldness. I never doubted that he loved me, he just couldnt' give me the attention that I desired, that I craved. The little girl who wanted her Mother to notice.
I was just going to say "I digress...." not writing about the roaming girl, but I am writing about her, for she is me! Always with me. That little girl so full of life and questions, talking her way through life. Talking with friends, family and strangers alike.
Words, spoken and written are the thread that continues to piece my life together.I just want to write and write and write. So much to say, so many feelings to try and capture. This is not so much different than that little girl, visiting ,wanting the company of others, always feeling alone. Feeling so disconnected from family, having a sister that was 9 yrs older wasn't such a great thing. We were always separated,not only by age but by our personalities I know that she loved me, but we had little more than genes in common. I was blond and outgoing, interacting with people easily, while she was dark haired, dark complexion and had inherited my paternal grandmother's dour personality. it's strange because according to my mother she started out in life a lot like me, outgoing and inquisitive. We shared a room and I think she felt a bit put out about the whole thing. Because of sharing the room I really believe in sleep learning. I know all the words of the popular songs of the 60's.
It's really strange when I think of her when we were growing up. I always admired her, thought that she was so popular, so with the "in" crowd. There were always lots of her friends over, she did all the right things. Listened to the popular bands, did her hair, had lots of boyfriends.I don't remember the sour side of her, my mother says that it was there for most of her life and cost her many relationships. I only remember her ever getting really mad at me once before she got married. Weird isn't it?
Then when I was a teenager I so wanted the life that she had had, not the mixed up convoluted life I led.Where did she come from, that crazy teenager? That Little Roaming Girl... that's where. The little girl looking for a place to belong, to be important, to be noticed. The little girl who loved her Dad, and couldn't understand his coldness. I never doubted that he loved me, he just couldnt' give me the attention that I desired, that I craved. The little girl who wanted her Mother to notice.
The Roaming Girl, early on.
The Roaming Girl.
I was talking yesterday about the ability that I had as a young girl to just roam about the town I lived in and visit with people. I've been thinking a lot about this and how this shaped me and has had a lasting effect on me. Some of it good and some of it bad.
One of the positive impacts this has had on my life is that I can just walk up to just about anyone and enter into a conversation with them. I have been a talker ever since I learned the spoken word. Questions, I was always asking questions of everyone that I met. A favourite Aunt tells the story of me and my Godfather who was an electrician. He came to do some work at my Aunts house and I was staying with her. I began asking questions about what he was doing... intelligent questions that quite impressed him, but it was question after question! My Aunt told him that he better get used to it as I would have 50 different questions to ask by the time I arrived back home after school. Always questions but not always answers, certainly not enough to quite my inquisitive mind.
Always roaming looking for company other than my own. I grew up in a very different household. One of 4 children, a sister who was 9 yrs older than me, a brother 6 yrs older and a brother who was 6 yrs younger. A father who was a great provider, a man who didn't drink or run around on my mother, who was always home, but never really there. He didn't interact with us kids at all. A mother who was/is extraordinary, very involved and sometimes larger than life. She is the type of Mother that many girls wished that had, she was always there for all the other girls from the girls organizations and church camp, but never really there for any of us. This created strange family dynamics.
Of course when you are in the midst of this stuff, when you are a kid, you don't see it or really know how much it affects you. As an adult you can look back with such clear vision, and see how your childhood and all of it's experiences can really define who you have become.
I talked then, I still talk. It is one of my strongest characteristics. The thing that endears me to so many people. The thing that at times I hate the most about myself. I've always been the loud one, the life of the party. The one that has embarrassed herself so many times, carried the conversation when no one else was talking, never knowing when to shut up. Shut up.... I can handle many things, but never being told to "Shut-Up" or being told that I talk too much. It can evoke so many bad memories. Always seeing that on my report card, "..... is too chatty", "...... monopolizes the conversation", and sometimes, actually most times just being told out right " YOU talk too much!" The extrovert always wanting to be the introvert.
People say that I am good at telling stories, that I am interesting, that I can relate the mundane of everyday life in such a way that it is entertaining. Many people say over and over that I should write a book.... I'm hoping that this will be the start of it.
I was talking yesterday about the ability that I had as a young girl to just roam about the town I lived in and visit with people. I've been thinking a lot about this and how this shaped me and has had a lasting effect on me. Some of it good and some of it bad.
One of the positive impacts this has had on my life is that I can just walk up to just about anyone and enter into a conversation with them. I have been a talker ever since I learned the spoken word. Questions, I was always asking questions of everyone that I met. A favourite Aunt tells the story of me and my Godfather who was an electrician. He came to do some work at my Aunts house and I was staying with her. I began asking questions about what he was doing... intelligent questions that quite impressed him, but it was question after question! My Aunt told him that he better get used to it as I would have 50 different questions to ask by the time I arrived back home after school. Always questions but not always answers, certainly not enough to quite my inquisitive mind.
Always roaming looking for company other than my own. I grew up in a very different household. One of 4 children, a sister who was 9 yrs older than me, a brother 6 yrs older and a brother who was 6 yrs younger. A father who was a great provider, a man who didn't drink or run around on my mother, who was always home, but never really there. He didn't interact with us kids at all. A mother who was/is extraordinary, very involved and sometimes larger than life. She is the type of Mother that many girls wished that had, she was always there for all the other girls from the girls organizations and church camp, but never really there for any of us. This created strange family dynamics.
Of course when you are in the midst of this stuff, when you are a kid, you don't see it or really know how much it affects you. As an adult you can look back with such clear vision, and see how your childhood and all of it's experiences can really define who you have become.
I talked then, I still talk. It is one of my strongest characteristics. The thing that endears me to so many people. The thing that at times I hate the most about myself. I've always been the loud one, the life of the party. The one that has embarrassed herself so many times, carried the conversation when no one else was talking, never knowing when to shut up. Shut up.... I can handle many things, but never being told to "Shut-Up" or being told that I talk too much. It can evoke so many bad memories. Always seeing that on my report card, "..... is too chatty", "...... monopolizes the conversation", and sometimes, actually most times just being told out right " YOU talk too much!" The extrovert always wanting to be the introvert.
People say that I am good at telling stories, that I am interesting, that I can relate the mundane of everyday life in such a way that it is entertaining. Many people say over and over that I should write a book.... I'm hoping that this will be the start of it.
Monday, October 3, 2011
This is me....
I'm just an Ordinary Woman living a very interesting life.
I've decided that I should blog... I could say "My Husband made me do it" and that could be partly true. He has encouraged me to write for as long as we have known each other. Having said that, if you knew me, you would know that no one could ever make me do something that I didn't want to do. So for anyone out there that cares, I'm doing this for me!
I don't know if this is an exercise in futility, if anyoine will ever want to read my ramblings, but it's my story and I want to capture it while I can still remember.
Long ago in a town far far away.....
I had a pretty normal life for a kid growing up in the 60's. I lived in a smallish town, where I knew a lot of people, a better way to put it would be that a lot of people knew me and had the freedom to just kind of roam. One of my favorite past times was to go visiting. This would entail me walking anywhere from 2 to 20 blocks to knock on the door of some unsuspecting person and going in for a visit. Sometimes these would be people who were my age, but more than likely they would be friends of my mother's or part of the very large church community that I belonged to. It's wild when you think of it isn't it? I was like 8 or 9 just wandering around, I would just tell my mother that I was going visiting and she would say be home in time for lunch or supper and away I would go.
I'm getting tired right now so I think that it's time for bed
I've decided that I should blog... I could say "My Husband made me do it" and that could be partly true. He has encouraged me to write for as long as we have known each other. Having said that, if you knew me, you would know that no one could ever make me do something that I didn't want to do. So for anyone out there that cares, I'm doing this for me!
I don't know if this is an exercise in futility, if anyoine will ever want to read my ramblings, but it's my story and I want to capture it while I can still remember.
Long ago in a town far far away.....
I had a pretty normal life for a kid growing up in the 60's. I lived in a smallish town, where I knew a lot of people, a better way to put it would be that a lot of people knew me and had the freedom to just kind of roam. One of my favorite past times was to go visiting. This would entail me walking anywhere from 2 to 20 blocks to knock on the door of some unsuspecting person and going in for a visit. Sometimes these would be people who were my age, but more than likely they would be friends of my mother's or part of the very large church community that I belonged to. It's wild when you think of it isn't it? I was like 8 or 9 just wandering around, I would just tell my mother that I was going visiting and she would say be home in time for lunch or supper and away I would go.
I'm getting tired right now so I think that it's time for bed
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