Starting your life over: the encore

Each month a handful of you Google, “How to start your life over”, which directs you to this post, bringing you to my blog. I’m absolutely fascinated by this. Who are you? And why are you starting your life over?

Were you like me, brokenhearted and pushed into a solo journey without a map? Or, are you sitting alone at your computer right now in the still night while close-by an unsuspecting lover peacefully sleeps?

Either way, I think it says a lot about us. That all of us are looking for a connection, a story of how the ones before us tackled this seemingly gigantic feat. When I started my life over, I found myself at every bookstore and library within a 5 mile radius looking for answers. Crouched on the ground, surrounded by self-help books, irritated browsers were forced to step over me and hopscotch their way through the book littered aisles.

The thing about starting your life over is that you get to (and maybe for the first time) be the architect of your own life. You’ll have the chance to knock down old decrepit buildings that no longer seem big enough to house you. You’ll have the power to create a quiet temple for when you need to be alone. Extravagant fortresses will go up in a flash, housing all of the people you care about the most. You’ll be able to repay them back for when they helped you sift through the charcoal remains of your old life and then later sat around for months holding your hand while you drafted up working drawings for your new one.

No matter how big of a feat it may seem, starting your life over is totally possible. Know that there will be times in the beginning when you will question whether or not you have made the right decision. You will crumble to the ground in a heap of your new plans – for days, weeks even. But somehow you’ll always get back up.

There will also be times when you’ll be walking alone down the street or perhaps sitting quietly in a coffee shop observing the outside world and everything around you will seem illuminated from within. Anything and everything will seem entirely possible; goosebumps will spread, your pulse will quicken and you’ll be reminded of why you set out to redo your life in the first place.

This second chance, this gift you have given yourself, could quite possibly become the most courageous thing you will ever do – and that is so exciting.

Good luck and safe travels.

S.

It’s OK to be sad.

“I actually attack the concept of happiness. The idea that – I don’t mind people being happy – but the idea that everything we do is part of the pursuit of happiness seems to me a really dangerous idea and has led to a contemporary disease in Western society, which is fear of sadness. It’s a really odd thing that we’re now seeing people saying “write down 3 things that made you happy today before you go to sleep”, and “cheer up” and “happiness is our birthright” and so on. We’re kind of teaching our kids that happiness is the default position – it’s rubbish. Wholeness is what we ought to be striving for and part of that is sadness, disappointment, frustration, failure; all of those things which make us who we are. Happiness and victory and fulfillment are nice little things that also happen to us, but they don’t teach us much. Everyone says we grow through pain and then as soon as they experience pain they say “Quick! Move on! Cheer up!” I’d like just for a year to have a moratorium on the word “happiness” and to replace it with the word “wholeness”. Ask yourself “is this contributing to my wholeness?” and if you’re having a bad day, it is.”-Hugh Mackay

t.g.i.f.

To say it was a rough week is an understatement. This weekend, all I want to do is lie in bed, eat pierogies, read books, write, catch up on Mad Men and heal my heart.

Have a good weekend everyone!

S.

Good-bye, “Monk”

 (Oz and I on Saturday morning, having a silent chat)

Just over eight years ago, I volunteered to foster 5 homeless kittens through Toronto Cat Rescue. If I can remember correctly, it was during the summer going into 4th year university and most of my roommates had gone home. It was a wild couple of weeks watching 5 kittens run rampant through our 3 level townhouse while I, a clean freak, chased after them, picking up everything in their wake.

The kittens good-natured looks lead to quick homes, all except for one: the defiant little devil who orchestrated all the kitty escapes. The big eared, large-footed, ugly duckling – whom I promised my parents I wouldn’t keep because, “What will you do when you come home for Christmas, Stephanie? Your father has allergies!”

But when someone did come to adopt him a month later, a bond was formed and I just couldn’t give him up. (My father agreed to take an allergy pill. Thanks Dad).

It’s true what they say, you do learn a lot about yourself when you have a pet. You become more lenient in your day-to-day life; I mean cat hair isn’t the end of the world – those lint rollers are fabulous little inventions.  You become a caretaker to a little creature who depends on you and in return they give you unconditional love.

Everyone thinks their animal is the best animal on planet earth. I too thought I had won the pet lottery. I mean, how many bad-ass cats do you know that can speak? Oz would literally say, “hello” when he was looking for me. Come when you call their name? Is soothed and put to sleep in a bumpy car ride to the sound of Paul McCarthy’s voice? Or, put their arms up in the air and demand for you to carry them around on your shoulder like a little prince? I would say, not too many.

So when I found out last Thursday that Oz had a fatal liver disease, I had an emotional breakdown in the washroom at work, whimpered on the bus, and then let the flood gates open on the subway ride home (crying in public has become a devastating  flaw). When my tear ducts had been thoroughly exhausted, I dried my swollen eyes and told myself that we were going to fight this.

The two of us spent our weekend listening to The Beatles, reading stories (he loved being read to), sitting outside in the sunshine, and any opportunity that came, I played with, and took pictures of, his little paws. But in the early hours of Monday morning, I got up to put the coffee on and grab his food syringes when he walked into the kitchen and let out his famous bellowing bark and I just knew that he was too sick to continue.

Over the years, we’ve been to many different vets and every time I went to pick him up, it was always the same line, “We’ve seen and dealt with a lot of cats, Miss Payne, but we’ve never met such a strong cat as Mr. Oz”. I would then put on a big smile and wait for what came next,

“He drew blood”, “He attacked my assistant” or, (this one was the best) “Your kitty looks quite different from when you last saw him. Last night Oz bashed his face so hard against his cage that he removed most of the hair from his face!”

The two of us would always leave with our tails between our legs. Him, terribly embarrassed by his bad behaviour and I, embarrassed too, but proud. Proud that I had a cat that would fight like hell.

While the two of us waited alone in the back room at the vets office on Monday night, a woman entered the office with a kitten, and the two of us sat in silence listening to that kitten’s dainty little meow flood that dark and lonely hallway. I laughed through the tears because Oz’s meow was so very different. So distinct. Commanding, booming and brawny.  As I held him in my arms with a pounding heart, I had a flashback of that first night when the last of his siblings was taken away and how he ran around my room, distraught and crying out for their return. I distinctly remember drawing his little kitten self into my bed and promising him that I would always take care of him.

We had a good little life together, Oz and I. Our connection at times bordered on a deep psychic level that left me forever changed, and for that I will always be thankful.

When I said my final goodbye to him in that back room last night, I gave him a final kiss, scratched him behind the ears and with a heavy heart, I snuck in a final tickle of those big feet.

Good-bye, “Monk”.

Xo.

S.

Depressed

This photo pretty much sums up how I feel right now (I just realized something: that lady in the photo appears to have no pants on). My cat Oz isn’t doing so hot. I found out yesterday that he has developed a “fatty” liver and if he doesn’t start eating very soon, I’m going to have to put him down. Losing an animal is an extremely hard thing to go through. I have a very special bond with that damn cat and I’m not ready to give him up just yet.

Keeping a focus on my work has proven to be a challenge and trying to keep the sniffles under wraps at the office is a tough one (gotta keep it professional, you know?). Have you ever had a deeper-than-human bond with a furry friend? Or lost a beloved pet? How did you cope?

God, I hope things turn around quickly.

S.

Keep me in your heart

WARREN ZEVON
“Keep Me In Your Heart”

Shadows are falling and I’m running out of breath
Keep me in your heart for awhile

If I leave you it doesn’t mean I love you any less
Keep me in your heart for awhile

When you get up in the morning and you see that crazy sun
Keep me in your heart for awhile

There’s a train leaving nightly called when all is said and done
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sometimes when you’re doing simple things
around the house
Maybe you’ll think of me and smile

You know I’m tied to you like the buttons on
your blouse
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Hold me in your thoughts, take me to your dreams
Touch me as I fall into view
When the winter comes keep the fires lit
And I will be right next to you

Engine driver’s headed north to Pleasant Stream
Keep me in your heart for awhile

These wheels keep turning but they’re running out
of steam
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la-li-li-lo
Keep me in your heart for awhile

Keep me in your heart for awhile

Trampire

Will Ferrell can always make me laugh, even when he’s talking about heartbreak.

S.

Paul Simon: Graceland

And she said losing love 
Is like a window in your heart 
Everybody sees you’re blown apart 
Everybody sees the wind blow

Starting your life over

Have you ever started your life over? Have you ever rewritten your life plan? Moved across the world by yourself, lost a spouse or partner, or packed your bags in the middle of the night to embark on a solo journey into the unknown?

Exactly a year ago, I started my entire life over. The only thing that remained constant was my family, and even my relationship with them was altered. I was suddenly single, I moved out on my own,  got a new job and started a new career, stumbled into awe-inspiring strangers, met lifelong friends, explored new relationships, and discovered things about myself that I never knew before.

For the first time in my entire life I was all alone.

It almost felt like someone pressed the reset button on my life, or shook a gigantic Etch A Sketch, that at the time was my solid and well thought out life plan. I was recently talking to a close friend who commented that some people would give anything to start all over again, to get a clean slate.

At the time the whole thing was quite overwhelming and terrifying. I felt like a little fish in a big dark ocean, discombobulated, disoriented and without a map. For once in my life I was walking around blind without a plan; the thought that anything was possible or that self discovery was mandatory wasn’t just scary, it was debilitating and soul crushing.

But somewhere along the way, I found an inner strength that I never knew I had, a partial map appeared, and courage showed up to gently raise my head, and suddenly I was nudged forward to start anew.

If you’re thinking about starting your life over, I commend you! Or, if you’re like me, and in a flash your entire world is turned upside down, know that I’m rooting for you. In time you’ll find your footing.

Remember to keep your head up and don’t worry too much about that damn map — it rarely leads you in the right direction anyways.

S.