CSI: Genie

Sometimes I get too caught up in my inner space, intent on solving it like a crime scene. I become an investigator, trying to piece together the remnants and fragments of past hurts, trying to find clues that have lead me here. I become a medical examiner, deconstructing the body I carry around, disconnected to who I was and who I am. I become a prosecutor, condemning myself for all my faults and many mistakes. I become a forensic specialist, taking the jack hammer to the hard shell that encases my heart to find what hurt it so.

There is much to investigate, but I'm not a crime scene. I'm a person. Speckled, imperfect and alive. I don't have all the answers, but I am responsible for the life I am leading right now. I can let it slip by while I swim in a murky pool of whys and wherefore. Or. I can get on it.

So that is what I choose to do. Get on with my life. I can't promise myself that every day will be as perfect as today with the sun streaming in through the windows, the smell of Murphy's oil rising from my freshly washed floor, and the smell of mowed grass wafting in from outside; but I can promise myself that today is a new day. A fresh start. A slate of possibilities.

Over the next few weeks I will be chronicling the changes I will be making, and the steps I will be taking in pursuit of a more authentic life. A more productive one. I need to tackle my procrastination and see at least one vision to its fruition. So many started projects have been left by the wayside while I moan about the way things suck in my life. Moaning doesn't get anything accomplished. Action does.

I have been considering deleting all my posts on this blog and starting fresh here too, but that would be as inauthentic as buying a rug to cover the scratched floor. There's no reason to delete anything. This blog chronicles my ups and downs, my joys and losses and it is part of me. Its the forensic evidence of who I am. Speckled, imperfect and real.

Manifesto of Change

Here's the thing. I can write about my problems until my fingers fall off; it's therapeutic. However, I don't want to get stuck chasing my own tail of issues. To the outsider, I might be bitching too much, or focusing on my losses too much, or stuck in a holding pattern of regret.

Regret is a waste of time.

Things change even in infinitesimal amounts. This weekend my almost 20 year old indoor cat decided he had enough, taking off to explore the world as his last hoorah.  He's been out before, but never for four days; and I am left to struggle between sadness and hope. Sadness because I didn't get the chance to say goodbye, and hope because I know the courage his little soul has in taking on the world at his age. He has become my new hero who has delivered a powerful message to me. It's time for me to do the same.

I have decided to sell my house.

It's time to acknowledge that the reasons for buying a house have been miscalculated. I felt that in a house I would feel more of a sense of community, but I have not done so in either houses I have owned. Neighbours in reality, I have discovered, bear no resemblance to neighbours in the media. Sure, there are the waves and quick hellos as I walk to my car or water my garden or shovel the insane amounts of snow that fall, but there have been no block parties, or casserole dishes or friendly cups of tea. In a house, as in an apartment, I have been left pretty much to my own devices.

In a big city, everyone tends to their own, and good luck to you if you don't have a family or a group of friends that you've grown up with. You have to struggle to make and keep connections, otherwise you're a floating buoy in a sea of nuclear families and couplings. I thought purchasing a house would have given me a sense of belonging, instead, it's given me bills, and chores and headaches.

So it's time to call it a failed experiment and go back to compartmentalized living. I need an open concept unit with windows, in an area that's mixed residential and commercial. I want to be able to walk around, window shop, go for a coffee, get to know my neighbourhood. I need to be in a environment that's not solely occupied by families, couples and retirees. I'm looking for the right lifestyle, not just a place to live. I'll leave the gardening, snow shoveling and remodeling to those who love it.

It's time.

It's time to focus on the things I love like painting, jewelry-making, writing, dancing and photography.  It's time to look forward not backwards. It's time to heal from past wrongs, mistakes and abuses. It's time for my manifesto of change. Rather than go home to read or watch TV or putter around, I am putting together an interesting cocktail of classes for me to take during week nights. It's time to learn more about and participate in the things I have always wanted to do. It's time to act rather than wish things would change in my life. Now that I understand why I'm so screwed up, it's time to get over it, and just live the best life I can in a new environment with renewed interest.

It's time to follow in my beloved cat's footsteps. Meow.

~~~~~~~~~~

As I browsed through my favorite bloggers, I found that, yet again, Jamie Ridler has worked her magic. 

In her Wishcasting Wednesdays Jamie asks, "What do you wish to transform?"

 And there it is, perfectly aligned with my post. 

I wish to transform my life. 

Please join the Wishcasters as we weave some dreams into reality.

The Winter of My Discontent

This winter, I have been transported to a wintry tundra. Outside my windows, I see mounds of hardened snow everywhere. Yards are buried. Houses are cocooned. Cars are perched precariously on floes of snow and ice. People are bundled within an inch of their lives.

And I'm at home thinking. Thinking that I'm done with solitude. Though I enjoy my own company, I would like to live in someone else's. Hermetic life is indeed uncomplicated. I don't have to check with anyone what he wants for dinner or what they want to watch on TV. I can come home, take a shower, get into fresh, cotton jams and do some surfing while eating a bowl of soup, or watch my favorite trash TV and a chow down on a  salad. Or, if I feel like it, I can wear something silky, make a nice meal, have a glass of wine and get lost in a good book. Better yet, if the mood strikes me, I can blast some music and bust some dance moves.

It sounds ideal to those who are surrounded by others 24/7, but sometimes, the silence echoes with; "Surely this isn't it? Surely there's more to life than this?" I want to prepare a meal with someone, for someone, and wear something other than pajamas at night. I want to have a conversation about some silliness in the news or the nutty events that happened during the day. I want to hear myself laugh out loud.

Make no mistake, I do socialize with friends, but it's not the same. I can fill my nights with plans no problem, and it will take the edge off the solitude, but it won't change the day to day reality. When I come home, my cat will greet me; and though I love my four legged son, he can't fill the human need for intimate companionship. Holding hands, sharing a smile, discussing politics.

It makes no sense to want one thing and actively do nothing about it. I can't find someone or be found if I' m hiding away... The truth is I'm stumped as to what to do. It's not like you can grab a rod and some bait and find someone. Well, not someone lasting. I've tried online dating, bars, meet up groups, etc. It's resulted in a feeling of deflation. I want to kick whoever came up with the adage: there's someone for everyone. Good luck finding him, should be added to that.

Sometimes I like to watch television as a backdrop to my thoughts. Oddly, on occasion, the characters on a show mirror my thoughts. "You can't make any friends," a TV mother counsels her son, " if you don't go anywhere. You got to get out there and meet people." Wise words, that startle me into thinking she's talking to me. Of course, the problem is that wise words or not, it's a fictional situation. The son doesn't go anywhere but a kid who just moved in to the apartment downstairs  pops up on the fire escape and they become friends. Way to contradict yourself person who's writing these things!

So I'm making a Valentine's resolution. I will make red paper hearts, write messages of love on them and scatter them around the city. It's not a practical or efficient way of finding love, but it's a great way of spreading some of it. And who knows, maybe someone great will pop up on my metaphorical fire escape. :)

The Mighty R

Sometimes, I have the urge to retreat inside myself because the world is too much to handle. In the past, this would be accompanied by a sense of guilt because I felt like I was being antisocial or a recluse. However, when I'm feeling that my social interactions are taking chunks out of me, this is the wisest move. I have learned to leave the quilt outside the door with the rest of the world clamoring to dump its various agendas and needs at my feet.

In those times, I need to regroup myself and find the core of my being. In crisis mode, the panic sets in and I cannot think clearly. I need to focus on my breath and listen to the meaning in the pauses. I often judge myself and my life by other people's standards; and it is at that time that I most need to find the core meaning in my life, the way it is, not the way I wish it to be.

In consequence, when I find my center, and have stopped beating up myself over things I truly cannot change, I move on to rethink my next steps. I form a plan of action that makes sense for me, not anyone else. I compile a list of must haves, cannot haves, will not do withouts, and will not accept. I place them in perfect little piles pondering on each and every one. Saying goodbye.

The crucial next step is to release all expectations imposed on me by others, expectations that I have adopted as my own, expectations that have grafted themselves onto my soul and burdened it with their impossibility. I watch them as they burn or float into the air, my breath getting easier with the disappearance of each one.

Feeling lighter, I can revive myself, recharged with the new center, uncluttered by guilt and failure and loss.

That's when I can re-enter the world,
my true self,
without the layers of crud,
detoxified
and ready to meet the world again.