Life, it seems, is never dull.
I don’t think I’ve been bored for more than 5 minutes for all of recent history, by which I mean as much and as far back as I can remember, and most especially the past 3 years….
In the beginning of 2015, I moved out of my volunteer role at CMHA and into that of staff receptionist. December 2015 marked the end of my battles with the Ministry of Social Development and Innovation, as they were once called… Words can not describe the pain of that experience nor the relief I felt at being told that the pain was now ended. I also graduated university. But Mr T. was in bad shape and Christmas that year was a rocky one for a few surprising reasons.
In 2016, I started working full time. I went to Quebec that summer for 2 weeks to cheer for my brother, competing at Mont-Sainte-Anne. It was an amazing experience, very hot, and lots of fun. Fall was full of challenges, and a seeming truckload of isolation and stress, because I remember attending a series of counselling sessions seeking some guidance for my lost and weary soul, asking that this Christmas be better than the last. And it was.
2017, from what I can recall had snow until March, a heatwave, a fire up the street, and a crazy amount of work with CMHA on the the North Shore in transition, with myself and my team headed to our new home at the Vancouver-Fraser branch. First stop Vancouver, second stop, New West!
2018 in progress, and Today: Jury is still out on whether this year will be Thumbs Up, Thumbs Down, or Sideways 😀
I chose to move from a home I loved to keep a job I love. Stress-levels were sky high from January-June, what with moving home and office, learning new systems, meeting new people, exploring new territory and managing expectations. I feel like now, at the end of August, maybe I’ve succeeded in taking a minute for myself and am strong enough to get to where I want to be, again! Evolution is fascinating.
So, this post is really about me taking a moment to remember where I came from, where I am and where I am going. And more than anything, I want to go home. Right now I have a roof over my head, but it is not home. Not for me. I feel at home on the Coast, and I felt at home on Lonsdale. I feel at home when I go camping. Home is supposed to feel safe, bring you joy, and here that is rarely the case — I’m lucky if I can carry enough groceries through the door to make a meal, or a chance to speak anything heartfelt to anyone outside of work. And I feel like everything I do is viewed as disruptive or suspect.
I haven’t gone camping yet this year, and that is a crime. Nonetheless, there is a definite camping vibe happening here for me, in that my consumption of fun, fast and low impact foods has increased dramatically and I feel like I have to hike everywhere, and it’s a if I’m in a pup tent in the rain while the neighbours are glamping around in their vehicular monstrosities, eating steak, and watching cable, unaware of the spectacle they have become or the waste they create. Don’t get me wrong, I love tenting in the rain, just the contrasts, duration and cost is starting to really get to me. **Note also that usually my camping experiences are much more fun, and come with much more ice-cream or hot chocolate depending on the time of year 🙂
Home is a very important place. I had hoped for the best in this arrangement, and got much less. Life is harder and a lot less fun than it has been for a while and I am eager to change that. I have lost some independence, but strengthened my resolve. I have a plan and I will act on it to make sure better days are ahead.
And… seven hundred words later, this post is about to conclude. One last thing: I’m thinking about getting a tattoo.