Now and again I will watch one of those extreme makeover type shows. This particular one was called ‘Extreme Weight loss:A Year To Save My Life’ or something along those lines.

I usually watch it with a cup of tea and a biscuit. This time, I was watching it with my boys. They were so engrossed in this man’s journey. Thing is though, it looked like he managed to change his life so quickly.

In the first 10 minutes you went from the time he was chosen to be on the show, to the first set of intense training, to his first weigh in. It was a crazy amount of weight that he dropped! Then the ads began. The second 10 minutes and he gets to his 6 month weigh in. Not as much weight lost but still pretty amazing. Ad break number 2. you get the idea.

Before the 3rd break it was his 9 month weigh in. And at this point, he had a realisation. The host kept asking him throughout the show what he was afraid of. Why he got himself into the situation he was in. What, deep down, was he not admitting to himself. What made him turn to all this food.

He took a deep breath and said he was gay. Now, I’m not suddenly professing I’m gay, but the next thing he said struck me the most. He said…

I’m lonely.

There it was, my “a ha” moment. I’m lonely. I have been since the day I moved to Canada.

Lets just get things straight. I loved being in Canada. I have so many friends, so many things that I have accomplished. It was hard and it was a long road to get there though.

When we initially came over to Canada, I was leaving everything behind. I really didn’t think it would actually happen, that we would actually go. I was nervously optimistic. It was going to be a fantastic opportunity for us!

Thing is, I was a bit of a homebody.  We lived about 20 minutes from my family and sometimes that felt like it was too far. Now, we were going to be 7 hours away on a plane.

Dan started pre-hire work within about 2 weeks of us being in the country, so I was left alone. Our only real friends lived a 40 minute drive from us. I didn’t have a car. I spent my days at home watching TV, walking around the same grocery store and all the other shops without being able to spend money, and going online. (I didn’t even know about facebook at that point!) On the days when my friend didn’t come over and pick me up for the day, I would sit and eat to fill the boredom. Dan worked a 6am-6pm shift often. So, I was generally left for a long time. I’d visit him by going on the train to downtown Edmonton but that was really it.

I gained. I gained a lot. I started going to a group that was called curves. It was closeby and lasted for an hour. You would do a 30 minute circuit. I found it tedious. I had my guard up so made no friends and just stopped going. Looking Back, I was obviously a little depressed. I missed everything. I tried getting a job but nothing I applied for seemed to work out.

When I eventually did get a job. I found myself. Well, to an extent. I still missed home. And it took me a year to figure out where I needed to be.

I don’t think that sense of loneliness has ever really left me. I shouldn’t feel lonely. I’m not really sure if that’s actually what it is. Maybe that’s an excuse to the fact that I can’t be the person that I was when I was 18. Confident. Able to speak to random people and make friends with them. Becoming so close that you go round to their house and spend time with them, going out for drinks etc.

I had that in Canada. I don’t here. I’m not doing anything different, and I don’t know how to change that.

C x

I had a quote for guttering recently. I don’t know if I actually need my gutters replacing. What I do know is that it was pouring with rain when the man came to my door a few weeks prior. It was a free quote and rather than him stand at my door for 10 minutes trying to convince me why I need this quote, I thought I’d just save him the time. I could call and cancel the appointment. Meanwhile. he would get one more address to fill his quota and get out of the rain quicker. Win win.

It just so happened that I didn’t cancel the appointment.

A lovely gentleman came by. Lets call him Bob. Bob came into the house and sat on the sofa nearest the window. It was mid morning. The sun was out. Mine and the neighbours kids were in and out of the house, and the cats were jumping in and out of the window.

“So, what has made you get this quote? What do you need? Do you know about our company and what we do?”

Ummm…

I proceeded to tell Bob that it was simply due to a man coming to the door, he mentioned that my guttering-or whatever he actually said it was- might need replacing at some point and I could have a free quote with no obligation.

“Well, unless you are going to go ahead- there is no point really in me being here” Said Bob.

What? I’ve sat here waiting for you and you’re telling me it was a waste of your time?! Speak for yourself!

“So, unless you’re going to do this in the next 1-2 months, I shouldn’t have come here. It looks like you have had a lot of work done so I’m assuming you’re all spent up. Unless you’ve won the lottery?” He said this with a little grin on his face. Not condescending – I don’t think. I gave as good as I got.

” Yeah, it’s a work in progress” I say (I have had a garage conversion. My home here is now split in two. New house and old, unrenovated house) ” NO, I haven’t won the lottery. It’s a little different but I’m lucky that I can do this to my home.”

“Well, you’ve got me intrigued now.” He says.

Alright then. I proceed to tell him the reason I am able to renovate. The reason why I feel so lucky. Then he told me something. He’d also had something terrible happen to him.

Something that must have been truly terrifying.

He was kidnapped by an ex colleague. Let’s call him Ted. Bob previously owned a business and had the unfortunate job of firing Ted. The reasons why aren’t important. Ted hired a hitman, who put a gun to Bob’s head and stabbed him multiple times. He was lucky to be alive. There was a court case and a conviction. He said it took two years of therapy for him to comprehend what happened to him. Now Ted was back-free to roam in the world.

After hearing this information, I noticed that I wasn’t really shocked or numb. I felt nothing. Nothing at all. This man had gone through such a traumatic experience and he was trying his hardest not to let him define him. And I couldn’t feel..anything. Almost like I wanted to shrug my shoulders. It should have surprised me. I don’t think what he said really sunk in. Almost like he was making it up. He wasn’t. I saw the marks. I could tell he was speaking the truth. His eyes glazed over and he was clearly still troubled by this. All these years later.

” I know I can’t comprehend what happened to you,” Bob said, “but I suppose we are similar.”

Not really. It didn’t happen to me. It happened to you. I was the aftermath. Bob? Well Bob was a target. Bob had experienced something that had changed him and affected him in ways he never thought possible. That still strikes a chord with him now.

I wish I had said more. Thanked him for sharing his story. For not letting this define him.

We sat there silently for a moment. Luckily the sound of the boys fighting in the garden brought Bob back to the present.

I realised that we all have a need to share our story. Because it affected who we are today. And it will continue to do so.

C x

A couple of days ago I finally plucked up the courage to do something. Something that I now feel is important to this whole ‘moving on’ thing that we’re supposed to do. I picked out a few names- ok, quite a lot of names- and asked them to help me. Help me go back to the weeks following Dan’s death.

Why?! Why would you do that? Why bring it all back?

I think it will help me find peace. It will fill in the gaps for me. There are so.Many.Gaps. I was so busy, I have no real memory of things. A close friend mentioned the wake that we had for Dan. More of a traditional type celebration rather than the huge celebration we shared with the city and the world a few days prior. It was still a full house, but private. For the people that were in my circle.

Now I’ve been reminded of it, I remember it was a truly wonderful evening. I got insanely drunk and threw my drink all over my friends lovely white couch. Oopsies! We enjoyed memories. We cried, we laughed. We had a catering company that provided british food. The room was full of laughter. Full of those that really mattered. I have lovely memories and snippets of the evening now so often appear.

The thing that made me sad was that I had to be reminded of it. Reminded of this wonderful occasion. Something so perfect. Something that brought me so much joy and laughter. Why did I not remember this? It should have been engraved in my memory. One of those things I could look back on and smile. That’s when I realised that I needed help. Help to bring everything together. What else had I forgotten? All my days moulded into one and I was stuck. My timeline wasn’t complete. I also wanted other people’s viewpoint on things. How they managed to deal with things. How they saw me. How they saw the boys. How they saw everything being shaped around them. I’m sure it would have put a strain on these people and I was basically stuck in my own little bubble. Almost selfishly none the wiser.Their perception was different to mine and, who knows, maybe it would help me remember things I had forgotten.

Taking a deep breath I typed away. I deleted it numerous times. I had contemplated asking everyone for so long. This could go one way or another. What if they didn’t want to? What if they simply said no? What would I do then? What if they said yes then I read it and I didn’t like what I read? So many things to think about. So many more than I realised.

I set up and email account so it could be more private. As of yet, I still haven’t logged on. I will. Just not yet.

Cx

I am not tidy.

whew! That felt good! I feel like Oprah!

I am not a tidy person. Actually, that’s not quite true. I’m semi tidy. I don’t sit there in weeks worth of rubbish, but not neat and tidy. My house isn’t one of those that has a place for everything and everything in it’s place. It is lived in. NO, lived in doesn’t mean absolute mess. There are bits and bobs on the living room table. The odd cup that has been there since the night before. A bottle of water. A piece of paper, a book. General bits..Stuff. The rug has little bits of grass or lint on it or wood from the cat’s scratching the edge of the table (GRRR) and I don’t feel compelled to vacuum it up straight away. The ironing is done but never quite gets from the pile back to the drawers where it belongs before going back into the washing pile.

Right now, my home is being renovated.  There’s dust everywhere. Two bathrooms and a former garage being made into a kitchen. I have a downstairs toilet and the current kitchen sink to use for everything else. Quite simply  it’s a mess  and it’s starting to get to me.

I wish I could be like Monica Gellar. She would never do that. She thrives on these tasks that I find mundane. The things that I avoid as long as I possibly could. Love the whole idea of cleaning and seeing my hard work come to fruition with a beautiful sparkling home. Something I can say that I did myself. Nah, I want that sparkling home but I’m not all that bothered if I’m not the one that made it happen. In fact. I’d rather it not be me. Then I can tell people how amazing they are and get their business recognised.

My mum and gran will not be happy with that last paragraph. They know that I am a little bit of a tramp but they still want me to at least try.  Which I do. Just not enough I suppose.

Having two boys is a never ending battle where you constantly walk around in circles picking wrappers off the floor, clothes stuffed in a corner, socks all balled up in the laundry basket. It’s not like they have never been asked- and eventually told- to pick up after themselves. To put their clothes into the laundry basket. To put their dirty dishes in the sink. I admit, with the clothing thing, I’m not the best role model. That is my primary downfall. Everything else though, I’m set on getting them to at least try and remember to do on their own.

This then, raises another bone of contention amongst people. Should you get your children to do chores? SHould you expect them to do those kind of things that you weren’t necessarily expected to do when you were younger? I had a situation when I asked the boys to bring down their dirty clothes. I knew there was a pair of pants Gabe wanted to wear the next day. He didn’t bring them down after asking him no less than 3 times.. the next day he was mad and he had to wear something he didn’t like. Simple right? Should I have done it myself because I’m his mum or was I right? There’s no real right answer. It’s all on your personal preference.

There is very little that my boys do, so sometimes getting a little help without them letting out blood curdling screams is appreciated. I also think it helps them when they get older…

On the other side of things, the boys have actually come to me requesting a chore list and a behaviour chart as they realise what this can mean. Do as you’re asked. Life is easier. No shouting, screaming, and instant removal of electronics. Get through the lost-you’re golden.

Infact. Maybe I should have my own list. Might help me keep on track…. 😉

Cx