Beginning Again

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Earlier this year I posted on Facebook that I was ready to get out into the workforce. Behind these words was a desire to make something my own, a homier home, a feeling of fulfillment and purpose each day. I wanted to wake up and feel that I had something to give the world (other than trying to be the most perfect mom and raise functioning children for society.) Feeling blessed to be able to stay at home with my kids I wanted more.

When I posted the desire to work on Facebook my original intention was to stay open to whatever came my way. But as friends started providing me with suggestions, I got all clammy and hid in a corner. I realized I wasn’t able to do that.
Floating in the background was Thirty-One Gifts. People new I loved the product. That I was spending a lot of money on it. Dreaming of it and how I could organize this area or another with the products. Or how I just loved the feel of a tote, its soft cotton. But I was not a sales person. I prefer to hide and let people find me. So this wasn’t for me. Yet I would go to bed thinking of Thirty-One.
Simultaneously I was taking a course called Foundations of Anthroposophy through the Rudolf Steiner Center in Toronto. One of my weekly homework assignments was to become someone else. Simply go to a store or park and watch someone’s body movements or habits. Then go to another store and act them out. This was a very nervous and anxious experience for me yet I did it every week with mixed results. But always I felt different. I felt like someone else. Taking on their walk made me create a story about them. Who they were. Sometimes I would feel more relaxed and joyful, easy going. Other times I felt confident. Each time a different emotion. My mentor taught me that all of these personality traits are in me. Until I can take them on as my own and make them mine I can walk differently, for example, to reach these traits.

“I am talking about a life driven more strongly by curiosity than by fear.”

Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert

Soon this idea started to mesh with the idea of selling Thirty-One products. Maybe I could be ‘that person’. I needed work on my image of a direct sales person and make it my own. So here I am. I decided to go for it on the 21st of July. Take on a new adventure. See if I can be another version of myself.

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Soon I found that using and dreaming of Thirty-One products was inspiring me to write again. My Muse. Writing is my soul’s life. My soul, me, feels so excited to be useful again.
I had several intentions when I joined Thirty-One. They are:

  • To learn more about business. I wish to be my own entrepreneur one day and could use some training
  • To be financially independent. Even if I can just make $500 a month I will feel like I can be more creative and make my home a home; my life my life. This will make me feel successful
  • To push myself out of my comfort zone. I have become such a quiet hermit. Sitting here eating to fulfil what is lacking in my life. I have put on 20 pounds in the last year
  • I need more things on my plate. I need more than home. The desire to connect with others and hear their stories excites me.

Here I am beginning my journey. I am so glad you are on this path with me…Stepping out of my box.

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K, how is this? Its rough.

Since 2am I have watched 1.5 hours of How I Met Your Mother episodes. All of which I have seen already. Plus, I have stuffed myself so full of food that I feel very ill right now. Here is my attempt at writing. Nervous …

I grab my shake and bags and get out of the car. I walk to the back door and pull it open. As I step inside Marina comes out of the coffee-room with a coffee and a warm smile. 

“Hey, How are you?” I ask.

“Awesome” she replies with a smile. I knew that was going to be her response. I ask just to hear her say it cause it makes me glow a bit inside. “We have an issue with the welding program.” she says. And so my day begins. I have not even finished my breakfast or taken off my coat and I am at work. 

Despite an hours drive to work, straight highway, I could not finish my breakfast because I was too afraid of wildlife while I drove in the dark. It is February. The only light I can count on is from the full moon. 

Marina and I walk to my office and continue our chat. We chat as I hang up my coat and turn on my computer. We have a possible solution and then just as we are finishing up someone else is at my door with an issue. And so goes my day. Putting out fires. 

I use my lunch hour to catch up on emails. Fires there too. Someone comes to my door and I say that if it is not due in the next 30 minutes I can’t deal with it right now. My mid afternoon I start my lunch and sneak off to the Co-op down the alley for a chocolate bar mid afternoon.  

By the time I drive home it is 5:30. I walk in the door and holler for Sherese to come up so I can take her to guitar lessons. We pile in the car and off we go. As I wait for her lesson I am on my phone responding to work emails. Then back home. 

Three hours on the road today. Exhausted. Finally we can start eating supper at 8pm. Forget it. Teela needs me. I sit and nurse her and then try to prep something for supper for tomorrow as well as clean up a bit. My family sits and watches TV. I have two laptops going and one TV on the main floor. Teela is running in circles around our bungalow. It is noisy and I am annoyed I am alone in getting everything done. I am annoyed that I have to ask for help. I am annoyed that everyone is oblivious. It took me 6 hours to eat my breakfast and 4 hours to eat my lunch. Supper wasn’t until 8pm and I didn’t even get to eat it while it was hot cause I had to nurse. Now I am the only one cleaning and cooking for tomorrow while everyone gets to relax. Oh, lets not forget that I just spent three hours driving today. 

I can’t keep this up.

K, this is rough. I don’t like it but I do feel I broke the seal. It makes me think of how I have already written this scene three years ago and which approach is better. I will regret posting this but I am going to anyway. Don’t judge me. I know I can do better.

The Hardest Part

Walking up and having thoughts in my head, not really sure what they are but I know I want to write about my childhood.  Yet I can’t pull myself out of bed.  I don’t want to get up and remember.  It feels so hard.  It feels so challenging.  Yet I can’t shake this pressure, like so many memoiries trying to get out at once.  A mob.  I can’t distinquish one from the other.

I find my note book and pen.  The trick is to write it all out as fast as I can as soon as I get out of bed.  I don’t even go to the washroom unless it is immenent.  This is what I did.  I got up and let my memory flow from my mind through my pen.  After

Listening to this energy within me I pull myself from my warm bed into the chilly morning.  It is 2:30 in the morning.  I must write.  I find my note book and pen.  The trick is to write it all out as fast as I can as soon as I get out of bed.  I don’t even go to the washroom unless it is immenent.

This is what I did.  I got up and let my memory flow from my mind through my pen.  What falls out of me is one of my worst memories.  The memory of my mom, two of my sisters and myself driving away from my Dad as he stands in our drive way.  What was the heart breaking moment in this scene of my lfe?  Well, I didn’t understand why he didn’t wave good bye to me, us.  I sat in the backseat with two of my sisters.  I really didn’t know what was going on but I knew my Dad looked different.  He wasn’t acting the way he normally does.

April 1993
Dad is 69 years old and I am 17 years.

I felt that I was going to the city for an adventure.  I was excited.  We were coming back to visit.  Why would Dad find this trip different than the others?  Oh the mind of a naive twelve year old.  When I think back on myself I imagine me as a little girl but I was twelve.  Surely I should have had more comprehension than to think this was a holiday!

“My brother came to pick us up.  The car was loaded with our stuff.  Mom and David in the front seat and Eleanor, Melinda and I in the back.

“We backed out of the driveway and sat on the road for a moment. which was customary when someone leaves.  Whenever someone left there was a fit of waving and horn honking only this time was different.  I sat in the backseat, by the window closest to my dad standing on the driveway.  I wave but he just stands there.  I am not even sure he was watching us.  He was hunched over.  I couldn’t see his face.  He was looking down or away maybe?  I waited for him to wave back but he didn’t.  He always waved.  Why not now?

“Mom yells in the front seat, waving her hands like she is holding the reins of a horse carriage, “Go!  Go! Go!”  David stops waving and drives away.”

Excerpt from my writing

“No.”

I feel as though my ambition to write has lost me.  It is 5:30 in the morning.  I am finally able to take some time for my craft and I have nothing to say.  I am blank.  Like too many marbles stuffed in a bag, now I have to wiggle to get even one out.

Maybe I am putting too much pressure on myself.  I wake myself up several times in the night hoping that it will be 5:30, my wake up time.  Only it isn’t.  It is earlier.  I don’t want to be exhausted so I fall back asleep.  I wake up  so many times that by the time my meditation bowl chime goes off at 5:30 I sleep right through it. I am so desperate for some time to write that I am defeating myself in the process.

Now I sit here with plenty of time after a week or more of struggling to find it and I have nothing to say.  I wonder how bloggers find time to blog on a regular basis?  A commitment to a schedule I presume.  A commitment they don’t let even their family intrude on.  My issue is to say “No.”  It is such a small word yet the energy it takes to say it seems to be surmountable. I am sucked into my family’s expectations or are they my expectations?

Now that I have written about not being able to write I feel as though I may have wiggled one marble out of the bag.  Perhaps other ideas will come easier now.  One marble at a time and then the ideas will flow easily.  They will pour out freely and uninhibited.