A couple of weeks ago I somewhat unexpectedly found myself unemployed. While it's a temporary loss of income, it's unclear how long it'll be. This left me frantic and stressed and scrambling to find work. Any work. OK, almost any work. Finding something casual and temporary has proved difficult. And while I haven't given up hope, I've realised it's more practical for me to be putting my energy into finding new work in my field, even if it means forgoing an income for a little bit.
As stressful as this has been, having this time has made me realise how badly I needed a break. It's not exactly ideal to be taking a forced, unpaid, break, but, it's made me spend some time taking stock of my life.
Some other things have happened as well, one of those being that I finally let go of a relationship that I'd held on to for too long. You see, I've got a long history of staying in relationships for longer than I should. In fact, if my life was a Country Western song it'd be called 'I should have left you long ago (but I stayed)'.
Walking away wasn't easy (or pretty). It was painful and messy and left me with some things to process. Fortunately for me, I've also got plenty of time to sit and reflect on how I got myself into that mess and why I stayed for so long.
What I realised is, the year before I met my ex was insane. There was so much big life stuff happening, and on top of that lots of ridiculous bullshit stuff that I was responsible for dealing with, that I'd just been surviving in crisis mode. There were health issues, housemate issues, housing issues, relationship issues, family issues, thesis issues, friend issues, work issues, money issues, immigration issues... At baseline my life was pretty stressful, but there was always some additional thing I also had to deal with. And every time I'd overcome whatever calamity had arisen, a new one emerged.
Things were finally starting to settle down for me when I moved into my own place. My housing issues were coming to an end, as were the housemate issues. Work was stabilizing, my income was fairly steady, my health was improving, my thesis was being examined, I had a plan of action for my immigration stuff, my family and friends were alright, and I was single and excited about getting to be single in my own place. I hadn't quite gotten the balance back into my life of focusing on myself, but it was on the horizon.
A week after moving into my new place, I met someone. I hadn't planned on it becoming a thing, I wasn't looking for it to become a thing, but it became a thing. He was handsome and charming and after what had been a very difficult year, a perfect distraction from dealing with my own life.
So I focused on him and on our relationship and for awhile, forgot about myself. It didn't last though, the distracting myself from myself. Once the magic wore off, my life was still a mess and I had the added burden of an unsupportive partner to deal with.
There were some practical reasons for why I stayed longer than I should have. But mostly it was fear. Not fear of being alone; I've been single most of my adult life and know that that's quite a comfortable and fun place for me to be. No, the fear was of having to deal with the mess my life had become. I wanted someone to hold my hand, to tell me it was going to be OK. But what that resulted in was actually me holding myself back.
I've said it before, and I suspect it's a lesson I'm going to keep re-learning for a long time: life is much easier once you let go and just face the fear.
It's been hard. It's been really hard. And it's going to continue to be hard for awhile to come. But having the chance to get back in touch with myself is worth all the hardship that's made it happen. Being forced to take a step back, I feel like I can see clearly again. It's still early days, but I've got a much better sense of what I want for myself and what I don't. I can see the parts of my life that were allowing me to grow, and the things that were holding me back. I am coming up with a plan of action for how I want to live my life now. I am thinking about ways to rebuild that will allow me to have the balance that has so sorely been lacking for far too long.
For starters, I need to get back to writing.
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Monday, March 2, 2015
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Conquering Greta
When I was a little kid, I used to ski. I was pretty good at it too, lending support to the stereotype I've come across in Australia that Canadian children are born with skis on their feet. We're not born with skis on our feet; it's just, when it's winter 8 months of the year and you live beside the mountains, skiing's what you do! You spend enough time with skis on your feet, you're bound to develop some skill.
So after a few seasons, I was pretty good. I could go off on my own on the easier trails, and I could do some of the harder ones too if I had an adult with me. I was on my way to skiing become a lifestyle when suddenly I found myself wrapped around a tree. It was so bizarre! One minute I was speeding down the slope, turning to stop at the halfway point on the hill, and win the race I was having against my Dad and Pat (who was only 5 and just learning to ski). Then next minute I was staring up at the ski, wondering why I was staring up at the ski and who was crying. Twenty years later I still don't have any memory of what happened between starting that turn and lying on the ground. I hit that tree so hard that it wiped what I assume was a couple of minutes of my life clean from my memory.
That's the kind of thing that sticks with you - not the memory of it, obviously, but the experience. It wasn't until I started learning to ride a bike that I realized just how much that experience has stuck with me; how much fear it has given me.
I never did get back into skiing after that. I remember going cross country skiing on a Girl Guide's trip one time and making some progress then. I had really enjoyed cross country skiing, and eager to get me back on track to a skiing lifestyle my Dad bought me a pair of cross country skiis for Christmas. Unfortunately, whatever progress I had made was quickly undone. While everyone else was off ice staking at McKenzie Lake, I was trying out my new skis. Everything was fine, until I found myself on top of a mid-sized hill not too far off from the frozen lake. Rationally I knew I could ski down the hill and be OK; even if I felt like I lost control, there weren't any trees and I knew all I had to do to stop was fall over. It didn't matter; I was frozen with panic at the top of that hill. I actually had to take my skis off and walk down the hill. I don't think I ever put them on again.
Since buying Greta, it's taken me awhile to actually get out and get riding. I needed someone to help me, and finding someone to do this was easier said than done. But, when my new flatmate (who I will affectionately call Coach) moved in, she was really keen to get me riding. So one sunny Friday afternoon we headed out to one of the nearby parks and my riding lessons began. Coach would hold on as I peddled, helping to correct me and running alongside me...and more than occasionally would get run into by me. Gradually I improved. She didn't need to correct me so much, or hold on quiet so much.
I remember the first time Coach let go: I had been doing pretty good with her only lightly holding on, so she let go. I knew she'd let go and I panicked. I actually froze up. And moments later came to a crashing stop. I'd had this flashback to my skiing accident, to being completely unable to control wrapping myself around a tree. I'm pretty sure that first time on Greta I very nearly wrapped myself around a fence!
That fear of losing control runs deep. So deep that I hadn't even noticed it was there. It wasn't until Coach let go and I realized I really had no idea what I was doing that the fear leapt up from its depths. And I was terrified. But I knew, I absolutely knew that I had to keep going. After a quick debriefing with Coach we agreed to try again, and that she would not let go this time out, even if I was doing really well. With that comfortably in mind, I was able to keep going and the terror subsided.
It actually took quite a long time before I was able to let Coach let go. We always negotiated if she would be letting go or not, and I always felt confident in my ability to stop the bike, or at least fall off the bike, with a minimum of injury to myself should I need to. The trust was there, both in her promise to hold on for as long as I needed and in my ability to be OK when she did let go. But even still, it was easier said than done. The next time Coach let go, she also stopped running beside me. I was riding perfectly fine, but when I realized that she wasn't right there beside me, I just froze up and crashed into the fence. Again. So we debriefed again and she agreed to continue running beside me while I got used to being on my own. Even though by this point we were both well aware that she was much better off being far, far away from me and Greta when I crashed into something!! That's friendship!
About a week after running the 10k, once I'd had my 'recovery' period, we headed out again! This time, Coach would help me get started, but then I would be riding on my own. We practiced on a paved footpath that runs beside a soccer field. Along the narrow side of the soccer field. My goal was to ride to one side and back without crashing. I was getting closer and closer; but still having a few too many close calls with the fence. Then, finally, I did it!! I made it to from one side to another without crashing!!! Now it was time for my triumphant return.
The funny thing about losing control is that if you just surrender to it, you'll be OK. Instinct takes over, and either you recover or you minimize the damage you're about to cause to yourself. I know this! I practice this! Many, many times when I've been horseback riding or walking on a slippery path, I have had that moment of realization that I have lost control, and I have just let it happen, and fallen with grace. Every time that I have surrendered to that loss of control, I've come out OK. Every.Time. And yet, sometimes when I sense I am losing control, I fight it. I fight it and I rail against it, and I make the situation a lot worse. And that is what happened upon my triumphant return.
I had almost made it to the end of the path when I started to tip over. I tried to straighten up, but then I just went too far over to the other side. Again, I tried to correct myself, and... wound up lodging Greta onto my leg. I lay on the path on my side, one leg on top of the other, with my top leg stuck between Greta's tyres. Coach had to come over and literally pry Greta off of me. Here's a picture of my bruises the morning after!
It's been 3 weeks now, and that big one on my calf is nearly gone. The others are gone, and been replaced by a few new ones. I got back on Greta after that rather spectacular stack. I had to lay on the ground in agony for a bit first, then walk it off, but I got back on and eventually did make it to one side of the field and back again.
My legs were pretty freggin' sore after that crash, so I wasn't super keen to go out riding again. But on Saturday Coach and I headed out to the park for one more round. This time I was going to work on turning and she was only going to help me with getting going. As it turned out, I didn't need her to help me at all! I hopped on Greta and took off all on my own!
I was glad to have Coach there, even if she was only there for the moral support. And to take pictures!! Which she did with aplomb. I still had a bit of trouble getting going (as in I'd nearly topple over trying to get my balance), and stopping in time was a bit dicey, and my turning left a lot to be desired. But I was riding all on my own and building up my confidence! And developing all sorts of calluses on my palms from my death grip on the handle bars.
The death grip is starting to lessen now though. Slowly, slowly. After my success on Saturday I felt confident to go out on my own. In fact, as we headed back to the apartment to enjoy our celebratory oversized beers, I decided to ride through the other park, instead of walking my bike back like I normally would. And I just took off!
Since Saturday I've been out riding on my own twice. The first time was Monday evening. There were lots of people and dogs in the park, so I was absolutely drenched in terror sweat as I tried not to run into anyone (and thereby nearly ran into everyone). There's these bridges in the park, and they just go over little dips, but going over the edge of the bridge on a bike would do some serious damage! Every time I had to go over a bridge, I panicked. One bridge in particular, for some reason, I continually crashed into and had close calls on. I don't know why. But every time, I made myself keep riding over it.
I went for another ride today, earlier in the afternoon when fewer people were around. I did great!! I didn't crash into anything. I still freaked out going over the bridges, but I was a lot calmer and therefore didn't have any close calls! I had a goal to do 3 laps of the park without crashing, and then I can go play in traffic. I did that today, but given that the park was pretty much empty, I think I need to do it again when it's busier. But it certainly won't be long before I'm actually going places! I now just need to build up my confidence to ride in a straight line...then I can go play in traffic!
So after a few seasons, I was pretty good. I could go off on my own on the easier trails, and I could do some of the harder ones too if I had an adult with me. I was on my way to skiing become a lifestyle when suddenly I found myself wrapped around a tree. It was so bizarre! One minute I was speeding down the slope, turning to stop at the halfway point on the hill, and win the race I was having against my Dad and Pat (who was only 5 and just learning to ski). Then next minute I was staring up at the ski, wondering why I was staring up at the ski and who was crying. Twenty years later I still don't have any memory of what happened between starting that turn and lying on the ground. I hit that tree so hard that it wiped what I assume was a couple of minutes of my life clean from my memory.
That's the kind of thing that sticks with you - not the memory of it, obviously, but the experience. It wasn't until I started learning to ride a bike that I realized just how much that experience has stuck with me; how much fear it has given me.
I never did get back into skiing after that. I remember going cross country skiing on a Girl Guide's trip one time and making some progress then. I had really enjoyed cross country skiing, and eager to get me back on track to a skiing lifestyle my Dad bought me a pair of cross country skiis for Christmas. Unfortunately, whatever progress I had made was quickly undone. While everyone else was off ice staking at McKenzie Lake, I was trying out my new skis. Everything was fine, until I found myself on top of a mid-sized hill not too far off from the frozen lake. Rationally I knew I could ski down the hill and be OK; even if I felt like I lost control, there weren't any trees and I knew all I had to do to stop was fall over. It didn't matter; I was frozen with panic at the top of that hill. I actually had to take my skis off and walk down the hill. I don't think I ever put them on again.
Since buying Greta, it's taken me awhile to actually get out and get riding. I needed someone to help me, and finding someone to do this was easier said than done. But, when my new flatmate (who I will affectionately call Coach) moved in, she was really keen to get me riding. So one sunny Friday afternoon we headed out to one of the nearby parks and my riding lessons began. Coach would hold on as I peddled, helping to correct me and running alongside me...and more than occasionally would get run into by me. Gradually I improved. She didn't need to correct me so much, or hold on quiet so much.
I remember the first time Coach let go: I had been doing pretty good with her only lightly holding on, so she let go. I knew she'd let go and I panicked. I actually froze up. And moments later came to a crashing stop. I'd had this flashback to my skiing accident, to being completely unable to control wrapping myself around a tree. I'm pretty sure that first time on Greta I very nearly wrapped myself around a fence!
That fear of losing control runs deep. So deep that I hadn't even noticed it was there. It wasn't until Coach let go and I realized I really had no idea what I was doing that the fear leapt up from its depths. And I was terrified. But I knew, I absolutely knew that I had to keep going. After a quick debriefing with Coach we agreed to try again, and that she would not let go this time out, even if I was doing really well. With that comfortably in mind, I was able to keep going and the terror subsided.
It actually took quite a long time before I was able to let Coach let go. We always negotiated if she would be letting go or not, and I always felt confident in my ability to stop the bike, or at least fall off the bike, with a minimum of injury to myself should I need to. The trust was there, both in her promise to hold on for as long as I needed and in my ability to be OK when she did let go. But even still, it was easier said than done. The next time Coach let go, she also stopped running beside me. I was riding perfectly fine, but when I realized that she wasn't right there beside me, I just froze up and crashed into the fence. Again. So we debriefed again and she agreed to continue running beside me while I got used to being on my own. Even though by this point we were both well aware that she was much better off being far, far away from me and Greta when I crashed into something!! That's friendship!
About a week after running the 10k, once I'd had my 'recovery' period, we headed out again! This time, Coach would help me get started, but then I would be riding on my own. We practiced on a paved footpath that runs beside a soccer field. Along the narrow side of the soccer field. My goal was to ride to one side and back without crashing. I was getting closer and closer; but still having a few too many close calls with the fence. Then, finally, I did it!! I made it to from one side to another without crashing!!! Now it was time for my triumphant return.
The funny thing about losing control is that if you just surrender to it, you'll be OK. Instinct takes over, and either you recover or you minimize the damage you're about to cause to yourself. I know this! I practice this! Many, many times when I've been horseback riding or walking on a slippery path, I have had that moment of realization that I have lost control, and I have just let it happen, and fallen with grace. Every time that I have surrendered to that loss of control, I've come out OK. Every.Time. And yet, sometimes when I sense I am losing control, I fight it. I fight it and I rail against it, and I make the situation a lot worse. And that is what happened upon my triumphant return.
I had almost made it to the end of the path when I started to tip over. I tried to straighten up, but then I just went too far over to the other side. Again, I tried to correct myself, and... wound up lodging Greta onto my leg. I lay on the path on my side, one leg on top of the other, with my top leg stuck between Greta's tyres. Coach had to come over and literally pry Greta off of me. Here's a picture of my bruises the morning after!
And a week later...
It's been 3 weeks now, and that big one on my calf is nearly gone. The others are gone, and been replaced by a few new ones. I got back on Greta after that rather spectacular stack. I had to lay on the ground in agony for a bit first, then walk it off, but I got back on and eventually did make it to one side of the field and back again.
My legs were pretty freggin' sore after that crash, so I wasn't super keen to go out riding again. But on Saturday Coach and I headed out to the park for one more round. This time I was going to work on turning and she was only going to help me with getting going. As it turned out, I didn't need her to help me at all! I hopped on Greta and took off all on my own!
I was glad to have Coach there, even if she was only there for the moral support. And to take pictures!! Which she did with aplomb. I still had a bit of trouble getting going (as in I'd nearly topple over trying to get my balance), and stopping in time was a bit dicey, and my turning left a lot to be desired. But I was riding all on my own and building up my confidence! And developing all sorts of calluses on my palms from my death grip on the handle bars.
The death grip is starting to lessen now though. Slowly, slowly. After my success on Saturday I felt confident to go out on my own. In fact, as we headed back to the apartment to enjoy our celebratory oversized beers, I decided to ride through the other park, instead of walking my bike back like I normally would. And I just took off!
Since Saturday I've been out riding on my own twice. The first time was Monday evening. There were lots of people and dogs in the park, so I was absolutely drenched in terror sweat as I tried not to run into anyone (and thereby nearly ran into everyone). There's these bridges in the park, and they just go over little dips, but going over the edge of the bridge on a bike would do some serious damage! Every time I had to go over a bridge, I panicked. One bridge in particular, for some reason, I continually crashed into and had close calls on. I don't know why. But every time, I made myself keep riding over it.
I went for another ride today, earlier in the afternoon when fewer people were around. I did great!! I didn't crash into anything. I still freaked out going over the bridges, but I was a lot calmer and therefore didn't have any close calls! I had a goal to do 3 laps of the park without crashing, and then I can go play in traffic. I did that today, but given that the park was pretty much empty, I think I need to do it again when it's busier. But it certainly won't be long before I'm actually going places! I now just need to build up my confidence to ride in a straight line...then I can go play in traffic!
Friday, January 28, 2011
Zippity Doo Dah Zippity Day
Only two more Hawaii blogs to go! Unfortunately, they're not writing themselves. Neither is my PhD. Jerks! We'll get there soon enough.
On our second last day we had an early rise before we were shipped up to the north end of the island for a bit more adventure tourism: Zip Lining! (Of Flying Fox if you prefer) As we shook the sleep from our eyes, we also got harnessed up to go swinging through the trees.
Maya didn't have any shorts that came down to her knees, so she borrowed a pair of Mary's pants. And thus she was dubbed Jane Goodall.
Once we were all geared up, we were loaded into an old military vehicle and taken on a high speed, off road adventure.
The ride was super fun, and that was just the start! We made our way into the forest and were soon at the base of the first line. Now, I should probably mention that I only had a vague idea of what I'd gotten myself into. It seemed like something that would be pretty cool, but I didn't consider the possibility that it might be, oh, say, terrifying?
The first line was just a short run, not too far off the ground, to give us a feel of what we had signed ourselves up for. It seemed simple enough: walk off the platform, sit back in the harness, hold on to the rope, and glide on over to the other side.
I don't know about you, but I don't spend a lot of time suspended in mid-air. And while I trusted in the equiptment completely, the idea of being suspended in the air definitely was a freaky one for me. But that wasn't even the worst! Stopping really freaked me out! I was going so fast down the line that ever time I came to the end, it seemed like a violent collision was the only way I was going to stop. Thankfully, every time, I was wrong. And eventually, I even started to enjoy myself.
Of course, as soon as I became comfortable with stopping, they completely changed the process. For the first four runs we started on a wooden platform and landed on a wooden platform. But after that, we were landing on a gravel path! We pretty much had to hit the ground running, and continue up the hill with the momentum of our harness. The implication of this, of course, was that we'd be facing the runway when we came in for a landing...
Up until that point, steering hadn't been something I'd needed to be particularly worried about. For the record, my bum only hit the ground for a second, and then I bounced up and was on my feet and running. Pat earned the title of Butt Dragon for his landing.
Once we had gotten the 'little runs' out of the way, it was time to stop and refuel with some snacks before we conquered the longer, higher, faster runs. There was a little picnic set up for us at the 'Mac Nut Hut', where they had an old nut cracker and fresh macadamia nuts, along with the best trail mix I have ever ate! They encouraged us to take whatever was left over, so I took the remaining 3 bags of trail mix for my flight home. I only ended up eating 2 bags, and unfortunately had to surrender the 3rd to customs upon my return. I did consider just eating it in front of them whilst they took my shoes off to be sanitized.
Our guides had quite the sense of humour and did everything they could to mess with us. So as we headed out to our next challenge after our snack break, they hid in the bushes and made boar sounds as Maya and I walked past. I seriously thought that we were about to get charged by a wild boar, and judging by how high Maya leapt, so did she!
Next up was a walk across the suspension bridge. It was quite high up, on a wire frame, and involved walking across a plank of wood.
Apparently this was the thing that freaked people out the most. But for me, this was the funnest part. I love suspension bridges! And we were harnessed onto it, so it wasn't like we would have gone very far if we'd slipped. Maybe it was that I was in control of getting myself to the other side, instead of just waiting for impact. Whatever the case, it was heaps of fun and when I got to the other end I wanted to go back and do it all again. The funniest thing was that the guides were stomping on the bridge to make it shake. I didn't realize this until I got to the very end and saw a foot stomp down on the bridge. Maya came behind me, and John was behind her. Every time our guide would stomp on the bridge, she turned around and gave John a dirty look. Sibling love, ain't it grand?
The last few runs were AMAZING! We were soaring over the tops of waterfalls and looking out to the ocean. We got to walk the plank and even jump off a cliff!!! Jumping off that cliff and soaring high through the air, I finally let go of the rope and just glided. And it really sunk in for me that if I could do that, I could do anything.
So we came to the end of the runs and were all pumped beyond belief. We hopped back into the jeep and went soaring through the mud and back into town.
On the way back our guides told us about this awesome black sand beach that was a short drive and hike away from where we were, and the four of us decided this was something we must do. But first, the parents had found a cute little tiki restaurant for us to have lunch in in town.
Now, guys! Oh my god! This was so exciting!! Guess what I found when we were exploring the town, Hawi, after lunch? THE LESBIANS! I got to give them the secret hand shake and everything, it was great! I did not let the fact that I was drenched in sweat and mud hold me back one iota.
We all had an exciting time in Hawi. The shops were actually quite good, completely aside from my multiple lesbian sightings (and they weren't even together!) and I think we all came away with some souvineers. And then we badgered the parents into taking us to this black sand beach. They protested, because that's there job. But we were relentless (because that's our job) and eventually won. As I stated before, we're all glad that's the way it played out.
The hike down was a little more intensive than we had expected, but it wasn't too bad. Mary was a total champion, doing the hike with a back injury. The trail got quite steep, rocky, and muddy in more than a couple places. It was totally worth the hike though. I mean, there's beautiful and then there's freggin' breath taking!
We all had an incredible time exploring this beach and playing in the black sand. Maya caught some tiny black crab, Pat stuck his feet in the ocean, John smiled, and I made a sand angle.
It was a day full of fun filled adventure and family bonding, just like every day of this trip. But I'm sure it's a day that we'll remember for many years to come.
On our second last day we had an early rise before we were shipped up to the north end of the island for a bit more adventure tourism: Zip Lining! (Of Flying Fox if you prefer) As we shook the sleep from our eyes, we also got harnessed up to go swinging through the trees.
Maya didn't have any shorts that came down to her knees, so she borrowed a pair of Mary's pants. And thus she was dubbed Jane Goodall.
Once we were all geared up, we were loaded into an old military vehicle and taken on a high speed, off road adventure.
The ride was super fun, and that was just the start! We made our way into the forest and were soon at the base of the first line. Now, I should probably mention that I only had a vague idea of what I'd gotten myself into. It seemed like something that would be pretty cool, but I didn't consider the possibility that it might be, oh, say, terrifying?
The first line was just a short run, not too far off the ground, to give us a feel of what we had signed ourselves up for. It seemed simple enough: walk off the platform, sit back in the harness, hold on to the rope, and glide on over to the other side.
I don't know about you, but I don't spend a lot of time suspended in mid-air. And while I trusted in the equiptment completely, the idea of being suspended in the air definitely was a freaky one for me. But that wasn't even the worst! Stopping really freaked me out! I was going so fast down the line that ever time I came to the end, it seemed like a violent collision was the only way I was going to stop. Thankfully, every time, I was wrong. And eventually, I even started to enjoy myself.
Of course, as soon as I became comfortable with stopping, they completely changed the process. For the first four runs we started on a wooden platform and landed on a wooden platform. But after that, we were landing on a gravel path! We pretty much had to hit the ground running, and continue up the hill with the momentum of our harness. The implication of this, of course, was that we'd be facing the runway when we came in for a landing...
Up until that point, steering hadn't been something I'd needed to be particularly worried about. For the record, my bum only hit the ground for a second, and then I bounced up and was on my feet and running. Pat earned the title of Butt Dragon for his landing.
Once we had gotten the 'little runs' out of the way, it was time to stop and refuel with some snacks before we conquered the longer, higher, faster runs. There was a little picnic set up for us at the 'Mac Nut Hut', where they had an old nut cracker and fresh macadamia nuts, along with the best trail mix I have ever ate! They encouraged us to take whatever was left over, so I took the remaining 3 bags of trail mix for my flight home. I only ended up eating 2 bags, and unfortunately had to surrender the 3rd to customs upon my return. I did consider just eating it in front of them whilst they took my shoes off to be sanitized.
Our guides had quite the sense of humour and did everything they could to mess with us. So as we headed out to our next challenge after our snack break, they hid in the bushes and made boar sounds as Maya and I walked past. I seriously thought that we were about to get charged by a wild boar, and judging by how high Maya leapt, so did she!
Next up was a walk across the suspension bridge. It was quite high up, on a wire frame, and involved walking across a plank of wood.
Apparently this was the thing that freaked people out the most. But for me, this was the funnest part. I love suspension bridges! And we were harnessed onto it, so it wasn't like we would have gone very far if we'd slipped. Maybe it was that I was in control of getting myself to the other side, instead of just waiting for impact. Whatever the case, it was heaps of fun and when I got to the other end I wanted to go back and do it all again. The funniest thing was that the guides were stomping on the bridge to make it shake. I didn't realize this until I got to the very end and saw a foot stomp down on the bridge. Maya came behind me, and John was behind her. Every time our guide would stomp on the bridge, she turned around and gave John a dirty look. Sibling love, ain't it grand?
The last few runs were AMAZING! We were soaring over the tops of waterfalls and looking out to the ocean. We got to walk the plank and even jump off a cliff!!! Jumping off that cliff and soaring high through the air, I finally let go of the rope and just glided. And it really sunk in for me that if I could do that, I could do anything.
So we came to the end of the runs and were all pumped beyond belief. We hopped back into the jeep and went soaring through the mud and back into town.
On the way back our guides told us about this awesome black sand beach that was a short drive and hike away from where we were, and the four of us decided this was something we must do. But first, the parents had found a cute little tiki restaurant for us to have lunch in in town.
Now, guys! Oh my god! This was so exciting!! Guess what I found when we were exploring the town, Hawi, after lunch? THE LESBIANS! I got to give them the secret hand shake and everything, it was great! I did not let the fact that I was drenched in sweat and mud hold me back one iota.
We all had an exciting time in Hawi. The shops were actually quite good, completely aside from my multiple lesbian sightings (and they weren't even together!) and I think we all came away with some souvineers. And then we badgered the parents into taking us to this black sand beach. They protested, because that's there job. But we were relentless (because that's our job) and eventually won. As I stated before, we're all glad that's the way it played out.
The hike down was a little more intensive than we had expected, but it wasn't too bad. Mary was a total champion, doing the hike with a back injury. The trail got quite steep, rocky, and muddy in more than a couple places. It was totally worth the hike though. I mean, there's beautiful and then there's freggin' breath taking!
We all had an incredible time exploring this beach and playing in the black sand. Maya caught some tiny black crab, Pat stuck his feet in the ocean, John smiled, and I made a sand angle.
It was a day full of fun filled adventure and family bonding, just like every day of this trip. But I'm sure it's a day that we'll remember for many years to come.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Something Spectacular to Start the Year
I'm not really sure what time we got back to the condo after our New Year's libations, but it was probably around 1:30am. Apparently the boys crawled into bed and fell promptly asleep. Maya and I did not do this. We stayed up talking until she passed out around 4am.
Somehow, miraculously given how jam packed our vacation schedules were, we managed to not have anything scheduled for the next morning. John and Pat were booked in to go deep sea fishing, but that wasn't until noon, so we all had a bit of recovery time. Since Maya and I didn't have to be anywhere until much later in the afternoon, we decided to spend a few hours at the beach near our condo. It was great to just lay in the sun for a bit, and stretch out in the water.
We had something pretty spectacular planned for that evening, so after the beach, a quick shower, and a snack, we packed ourselves into the van and headed back to Kona to pick up the boys. We only had a short time between picking up the boys and our next activity, so we headed to Wendy's for dinner. THANKFULLY there was a Thai place nearby where Maya and I were able to grab something of the non burger variety. Though yes, I did sneak in a Frostie from Wendy's.
What we had in store that evening was night snorkeling with Manta Rays! Yeah, I know, that's a pretty freggin' spectacular way to start off the year!
We headed back to the now very familiar docks and got geared up into our wet suits. I had never worn a wet suit before, and um, they ain't so easy to get on! Fortunately, we had THE LLAMA there to help us out. After getting into his wet suit, John got to do the rounds and zip the rest of us up. I don't remember exactly at what point of the trip Maya dubbed John the llama, but I do know it stuck. And by the end of the trip, the llama was not so happy about this.
We all boarded the boat, with the four of us kids heading right up front and centre of the boat. We got to watch the sun go down as we got geared up with snorkels and flippers and made the short trip out to out manta ray sighting spot.
On this tour there was a guy from National Geographic who was filming the manta rays for some TV program about how this was the awesomest thing to do in Hawaii. So he talked to us about the manta rays and how there was nothing to worry about with them, and not to try and touch them. He asked those of us who were taking pictures, which Pat and I were, to hold our cameras in close to us when we did so, as the electromagnetic field of the camera and of our hands reaching out could be confronting for the manta rays. And you know what he told us that probably would have saved me years of dolphin related trauma? He told us that our snorkel masks would make the manta rays look bigger than they are, and that they would likely look like they were coming straight for us. But rest assured, they are not!
Somehow, miraculously given how jam packed our vacation schedules were, we managed to not have anything scheduled for the next morning. John and Pat were booked in to go deep sea fishing, but that wasn't until noon, so we all had a bit of recovery time. Since Maya and I didn't have to be anywhere until much later in the afternoon, we decided to spend a few hours at the beach near our condo. It was great to just lay in the sun for a bit, and stretch out in the water.
We had something pretty spectacular planned for that evening, so after the beach, a quick shower, and a snack, we packed ourselves into the van and headed back to Kona to pick up the boys. We only had a short time between picking up the boys and our next activity, so we headed to Wendy's for dinner. THANKFULLY there was a Thai place nearby where Maya and I were able to grab something of the non burger variety. Though yes, I did sneak in a Frostie from Wendy's.
What we had in store that evening was night snorkeling with Manta Rays! Yeah, I know, that's a pretty freggin' spectacular way to start off the year!
We headed back to the now very familiar docks and got geared up into our wet suits. I had never worn a wet suit before, and um, they ain't so easy to get on! Fortunately, we had THE LLAMA there to help us out. After getting into his wet suit, John got to do the rounds and zip the rest of us up. I don't remember exactly at what point of the trip Maya dubbed John the llama, but I do know it stuck. And by the end of the trip, the llama was not so happy about this.
We all boarded the boat, with the four of us kids heading right up front and centre of the boat. We got to watch the sun go down as we got geared up with snorkels and flippers and made the short trip out to out manta ray sighting spot.
On this tour there was a guy from National Geographic who was filming the manta rays for some TV program about how this was the awesomest thing to do in Hawaii. So he talked to us about the manta rays and how there was nothing to worry about with them, and not to try and touch them. He asked those of us who were taking pictures, which Pat and I were, to hold our cameras in close to us when we did so, as the electromagnetic field of the camera and of our hands reaching out could be confronting for the manta rays. And you know what he told us that probably would have saved me years of dolphin related trauma? He told us that our snorkel masks would make the manta rays look bigger than they are, and that they would likely look like they were coming straight for us. But rest assured, they are not!
***
It was early 2001 and I was on vacation in Zanzibar with my family. Zanzibar remains the most spectacularly beautiful place I have ever visited, and one day I will return there. And if my life ever turns to complete shit, I am packing up and moving there to heard cattle or fish or pick fruit or whatever. But not all my memories of Zanzibar are happy ones. Maya was big into dolphins, and swimming with the dolphins was one of the things you could do through the resort we were staying at. And so we did. We were driven out to a beach about an hour from our hotel (it might not have been that far had there been actual roads) and were packed into a rickety boat, given some snorkel gear, and off we went!
We were taken out into the ocean depths until our crew spotted the very wild dolphins. "Quickly! Quickly!" We were pushed off the boat and into the water. And what should I see when I open my eyes? Six MASSIVE dolphins swimming straight at me!!! I screamed, the dolphins laughed, it was all very humiliating. And of course, them being totally wild, they had a whole ocean to swim around in. This meant when they swam off too far, we had to haul ourselves back into the rickety boat from the water while it sped after the dolphins, where we would yet again be pushed out into the wilderness to be these evil creatures play things. Oh god! The memories!
***
Our manta ray crew had come up with this rather ingenious device to prevent us from having scaring memories of our time with the manta rays. They had made this floatational device with lights rigged up to it (the lights being to attract the food for the manta rays), and we were instructed to swim out to it, grab on, and stick a pool noodle under our ankles so that we don't kick the manta rays as they swim underneath us. This device also prevented us from creating a mosh pit in the water.
Once we had been briefed it was time to get in the water! It didn't take long for the first manta ray to show up, and rest assured, it was pretty freggin' spectacular! She seemed to be in a playful mood, doing loopdy loops and swimming right up close to us. I'm pretty sure she grazed me and John's legs at one point. We saw two manta rays, one with a wing span of 6 feet, and one with a wing span of 8 feet. We also saw lots of needle fish chomping away on all the plankton floating in the water around us. Words don't really do the experience justice, so here is my only picture!
The white spotty bits are plankton, and the rest is manta ray. Her eyes are on either side of the picture, and those flappy whiteish bits are her mouth. I had my camera right up against my body when I took this picture, so yes, she's pretty darn close!
The reason this is my only picture is because shortly after taking it, my camera decided that it had seen everything it needed to see in this life time and made it's way to the big shutter in the sky. What was really weird was that Pat's very new digital camera decided to do the same thing. The family seemed pretty convinced that this was due to the mysterious electromagnetic field emitted by the manta rays, but GUYS! That's crazy! Our cameras did not die because of the beauty or the electromagnetic fields of the manta rays. They died because they got water in the bits that aren't water resistant. I have a vague sense that when, in the heat of the moment, my camera froze up, I may have popped the battery casing open to force restart it. I, I wish I could say I know better than to do something like that. But the truth is, I probably don't.
So yes, I no longer have a digital camera. Since the camera I did have was a free one I'm not too broken up about it. I'm glad that it didn't break until I got that awesome shot of the manta ray, towards the end of my vacation. I do wish that I had brought my film camera with me. I debated taking it and honestly am not too sure why I decided not to bother with it. Oh well, live and learn. Fortunately, our memory cards were both fine and compatible with the parents' camera, so we were still able to take gazillions of pictures of the rest of the trip. Which I will tell you more about soon!
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Surrender to the Sea
I think it's very telling what kind of a year 2010 was for me when the best day of it was December 30th. It was well worth the wait though. So what made this the most awesome day of the year? Big up to my brother Patrick for that! Because on this day he paid for us kids to go on an ocean kayak safari AND THEN he did the impossible, but I'll get back to that.
I've always thought that kayaking looked like heaps of fun, but been terrified to do it. Up until I started swimming, my upper body strength was pretty much non existent. It's still nowhere near where I'd like it to be, but I'm working on that. The other reasons kayaking terrified me was because my balance is like, even more non existent than my upper body strength, so I was sure I'd be flipping the kayak ever 5 minutes. And as much as I love swimming, I love doing it in a pool, far far far away from dolphins and the like.
It was two people to a kayak, so Pat and I went in one, and Maya and John went in another. John, being the athlete that he is, had their kayak off and running in no time. Him and Maya looked like they'd been kayaking all their lives, so I can't really say I blame John for disowning Pat and I...
The strongest rower was meant to sit in the back as they are responsible for steering, so our guides told me to get in the front and Pat in the back of the kayak. Which we did, for about 1 second. As soon as I got in, I tipped us over. Suddenly our guides thought I'd be better off in the back. This did nothing to appease my fear that we would capsize in the middle of the ocean.
We were instructed to row out to the buoy, then stop and wait for instructions on how to kayak. OK, sure, except... how do we get TO THE BUOY?!?!? With John yelling instructions at us, Pat and I set off on our ocean misadventure. With no concept of steering, we completely missed the buoy, nearly got ran over by a large boat, completely missed the instructions on how to kayak, and nearly gave one of our guides a coronary. The younger, more laid back guide was instructed to "get those people under control," as Pat and I headed straight for the big rocks we were meant to stay far, far away from.
With a heroic amount of over steering, we managed to avoid the death and/or serious injury we seemed so keen on finding when we first set out. The total trip was probably about 4km, but I reckon Pat and I paddled a good 6km. It was, without a doubt, the best workout of my life! My arms were pumped and I felt like there was nothing I couldn't do if I set my mind to it (except possibly open my right hand, which was claw shaped from gripping onto the oar for dear life for about a week). Kayaking has become my motivation to kick my fitness drive into high gear this year. I'm going to get myself a full gym membership and make the rowing machine my new BFF.
Now, there was some significance to the place we kayaked to, but I have no idea what it is because the scenic route didn't come with a tour guide. Something to do with a burial ground for a big Hawaiian war over women's rights. I'm sure I would have found it all very fascinating. We stopped at a rocky ledge where the kayaks were tethered together and anchored. Here we had an hour to do some snorkeling, grab a snack, jump off a cliff, and do some exploring. All that was asked was that we not swim into the big jagged rocks where the big waves were crashing in. Fortunately, outside of a kayak, I am not completely navigation impaired. When I told this to our more serious guide he cracked a smile, and I knew all was forgiven. Our guide also taught us a signal to let him know that we were OK, a signal which I'm pretty sure the four of us will use with each other for the rest of our lives.
We put on our snorkel masks and hopped out of our kayaks and checked out the fishies. The water was a lot deeper here than where Maya and I had snorkeled a couple of days before, and the water was also a lot choppier. This meant that we got pushed around with the waves a lot more, as did the fish, which were plentiful.
After a bit of snorkeling we climbed up onto the rocks, had a snack, and wandered around. Our laid back guide took us to see an eel, and then helped Maya and Pat to jump off a cliff. When landing, you were meant to have your legs straight out beneath you. Guess who mastered that and who landed ass first? I opted for not jumping off a cliff.
Then it was time to climb back into our kayaks, which, with some help, I managed to do without tipping us over. We headed back, this time with Pat and I managing to stay far away from the dangerous rocks... so far away that we were much further out than everyone else, going over massive swells, with me completely petrified that a whale would pop up beside us to say 'Hi!' We stopped at a sea cave that normally the tour goes into, but they didn't go in this time. I'm guessing because the ocean was a bit rougher than usual. It was at the sea cave that Pat and I learned how to do a U-turn, thereby making the rest of our trip much, much easier! We even managed to nail our landing, with me paddling solo.
Once we got back to shore, we dropped the parents off at Costco and headed over to Subway for lunch, where we put the 'No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem' philosophy to test. Home Depot also did not require the wearing of clothing.
That afternoon Mary took Pat, Maya and I back to Mauna Kea Beach where there were some serious waves happening! The three of us swam out into the ocean and bobbed up and down on the massive swells for awhile, until Maya got the idea that we ride in on the waves.
It took us a few tries to get it right, but soon Maya and I were body surfing some pretty decent waves into shore. It was a ridiculous amount of fun! And completely addictive. We'd make our way out to where we thought the waves would break, then watch for the biggest swells, start paddling, and enjoy the ride. Sometimes we soar high on the top of a crest, and sometimes we got sucked under into the rip. I know I did a fair few under water somersaults and was very thankful I've mastered the art of not breathing in whilst under water. Pat came in to join us, and we rode the waves until our knees bled and we were completely exhausted.
I started out our body surfing expedition with my hat and my sunnies on. But doing underwater somersaults meant having to remember not to breath in, figure out how to get my feet on the ground so I could stand up, AND hold on to my hat and sunnies. After one particularly rough somersault I managed to grab hold of my hat before it was lost to the rip, only to surface and realize I was no longer wearing my awesome new sunnies! I shuffled around in the water for a bit in hopes of finding them, and at one point I thought I had found them, but when I reached over to pick them up, I was knocked over by an incoming wave. I figured my sunnies were lost to Davey Jones' Locker, made my peace with it, and went back out. I even saw them again as I was riding in on another big wave, but the tide was too strong for that to give me much hope of finding them again.
But then, in comes Patrick, walking through the water all looking like Jesus, when what does he step on? My sunnies! There was much hugging and high fiving when he pulled them up out of the ocean, thereby christening them my miracle sunnies. I put them safely away with the rest of our stuff on the beach before surfing any more waves. Thank goodness for Pat and his ability to find things with his feet!
I've always thought that kayaking looked like heaps of fun, but been terrified to do it. Up until I started swimming, my upper body strength was pretty much non existent. It's still nowhere near where I'd like it to be, but I'm working on that. The other reasons kayaking terrified me was because my balance is like, even more non existent than my upper body strength, so I was sure I'd be flipping the kayak ever 5 minutes. And as much as I love swimming, I love doing it in a pool, far far far away from dolphins and the like.
It was two people to a kayak, so Pat and I went in one, and Maya and John went in another. John, being the athlete that he is, had their kayak off and running in no time. Him and Maya looked like they'd been kayaking all their lives, so I can't really say I blame John for disowning Pat and I...
The strongest rower was meant to sit in the back as they are responsible for steering, so our guides told me to get in the front and Pat in the back of the kayak. Which we did, for about 1 second. As soon as I got in, I tipped us over. Suddenly our guides thought I'd be better off in the back. This did nothing to appease my fear that we would capsize in the middle of the ocean.
We were instructed to row out to the buoy, then stop and wait for instructions on how to kayak. OK, sure, except... how do we get TO THE BUOY?!?!? With John yelling instructions at us, Pat and I set off on our ocean misadventure. With no concept of steering, we completely missed the buoy, nearly got ran over by a large boat, completely missed the instructions on how to kayak, and nearly gave one of our guides a coronary. The younger, more laid back guide was instructed to "get those people under control," as Pat and I headed straight for the big rocks we were meant to stay far, far away from.
With a heroic amount of over steering, we managed to avoid the death and/or serious injury we seemed so keen on finding when we first set out. The total trip was probably about 4km, but I reckon Pat and I paddled a good 6km. It was, without a doubt, the best workout of my life! My arms were pumped and I felt like there was nothing I couldn't do if I set my mind to it (except possibly open my right hand, which was claw shaped from gripping onto the oar for dear life for about a week). Kayaking has become my motivation to kick my fitness drive into high gear this year. I'm going to get myself a full gym membership and make the rowing machine my new BFF.
Now, there was some significance to the place we kayaked to, but I have no idea what it is because the scenic route didn't come with a tour guide. Something to do with a burial ground for a big Hawaiian war over women's rights. I'm sure I would have found it all very fascinating. We stopped at a rocky ledge where the kayaks were tethered together and anchored. Here we had an hour to do some snorkeling, grab a snack, jump off a cliff, and do some exploring. All that was asked was that we not swim into the big jagged rocks where the big waves were crashing in. Fortunately, outside of a kayak, I am not completely navigation impaired. When I told this to our more serious guide he cracked a smile, and I knew all was forgiven. Our guide also taught us a signal to let him know that we were OK, a signal which I'm pretty sure the four of us will use with each other for the rest of our lives.
We put on our snorkel masks and hopped out of our kayaks and checked out the fishies. The water was a lot deeper here than where Maya and I had snorkeled a couple of days before, and the water was also a lot choppier. This meant that we got pushed around with the waves a lot more, as did the fish, which were plentiful.
After a bit of snorkeling we climbed up onto the rocks, had a snack, and wandered around. Our laid back guide took us to see an eel, and then helped Maya and Pat to jump off a cliff. When landing, you were meant to have your legs straight out beneath you. Guess who mastered that and who landed ass first? I opted for not jumping off a cliff.
Then it was time to climb back into our kayaks, which, with some help, I managed to do without tipping us over. We headed back, this time with Pat and I managing to stay far away from the dangerous rocks... so far away that we were much further out than everyone else, going over massive swells, with me completely petrified that a whale would pop up beside us to say 'Hi!' We stopped at a sea cave that normally the tour goes into, but they didn't go in this time. I'm guessing because the ocean was a bit rougher than usual. It was at the sea cave that Pat and I learned how to do a U-turn, thereby making the rest of our trip much, much easier! We even managed to nail our landing, with me paddling solo.
Once we got back to shore, we dropped the parents off at Costco and headed over to Subway for lunch, where we put the 'No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem' philosophy to test. Home Depot also did not require the wearing of clothing.
That afternoon Mary took Pat, Maya and I back to Mauna Kea Beach where there were some serious waves happening! The three of us swam out into the ocean and bobbed up and down on the massive swells for awhile, until Maya got the idea that we ride in on the waves.
It took us a few tries to get it right, but soon Maya and I were body surfing some pretty decent waves into shore. It was a ridiculous amount of fun! And completely addictive. We'd make our way out to where we thought the waves would break, then watch for the biggest swells, start paddling, and enjoy the ride. Sometimes we soar high on the top of a crest, and sometimes we got sucked under into the rip. I know I did a fair few under water somersaults and was very thankful I've mastered the art of not breathing in whilst under water. Pat came in to join us, and we rode the waves until our knees bled and we were completely exhausted.
I started out our body surfing expedition with my hat and my sunnies on. But doing underwater somersaults meant having to remember not to breath in, figure out how to get my feet on the ground so I could stand up, AND hold on to my hat and sunnies. After one particularly rough somersault I managed to grab hold of my hat before it was lost to the rip, only to surface and realize I was no longer wearing my awesome new sunnies! I shuffled around in the water for a bit in hopes of finding them, and at one point I thought I had found them, but when I reached over to pick them up, I was knocked over by an incoming wave. I figured my sunnies were lost to Davey Jones' Locker, made my peace with it, and went back out. I even saw them again as I was riding in on another big wave, but the tide was too strong for that to give me much hope of finding them again.
But then, in comes Patrick, walking through the water all looking like Jesus, when what does he step on? My sunnies! There was much hugging and high fiving when he pulled them up out of the ocean, thereby christening them my miracle sunnies. I put them safely away with the rest of our stuff on the beach before surfing any more waves. Thank goodness for Pat and his ability to find things with his feet!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Moment of Silence
2010 has not been the greatest year for me, so it's not really a big surprise that as the year draws to a close, the string by which my life has been hanging suddenly reduced itself to a thread. I've been feeling like I'm falling off the edge of a massive cliff, and naturally enough, I've been fighting that feeling. But all the fighting hasn't stopped me from falling. In fact, all it's done is given me a few extra cuts and bruises as I've desperately tried to cling to the rocks on my way down.
But something shifted in me in the last couple of days, and I decided to just let myself fall. Scary though it was, I decided to let go and see what happens. And what's happened has taken me by surprise. Once I allowed myself to just go with what I was feeling and be open about my insecurities, the massive cliff didn't seem so massive anymore. In fact, it's been more like falling out of bed. Yeah, I'm a bit startled and sore, but I'm OK, oh, and hey, now that I'm down here, I've found my missing underwear!
I've been incredibly stressed out this year, and my health has suffered from it. As the summer weather finally started to make itself know in Melbourne, I found myself with a pulled neck muscle and the start of a cold that was leaving me weak, dizzy, and tired. I know I'm in shit when my stress and anxiety takes on physical form, so I was feeling extra done in for this week. That combined with a major freak out about my PhD left me looking to spend my weekend curled up under the blankets, away from the world.
But, a couple chiropractor adjustments later and my neck is feeling fine again. A talk with my supervisors about my PhD has lifted some of the anxiety, and their encouragement to give myself a bit of down time means the world, because it means I can just curl up on the couch and watch unhealthy amounts of Buffy and not feel guilty about not working on my PhD. And - OK this one is gross, I'm warning you now - I decided to actually look at what was going on in my throat that was causing me so much pain and discomfort. Well! It's no wonder I've been feeling miserable! My tonsils are basically rotting.
Strange as this may sound, realizing that's what's happening really changed everything for me. Because my tonsils are horrible! They get infected all the freggin' time. For some reason, they haven't gotten infected in my time in Australia, so that's probably why I wasn't immediately aware of what was happening. It's an easy fix: I've got a doctor's appointment on Tuesday, he'll look in my mouth and say "Hmm, well it's probably an infection. We'll take a swab to be sure, but I'll send you away with a prescription for penicillin and you can start on it now." If I was in Canada I would refuse to leave his office until we had a serious discussion about removing my tonsils, but as my health insurance stands now, I would have to pay out of pocket for the surgery and then be partially reimbursed. So I think I'll wait on having that conversation until I have a medicare card. In the meantime, I'll keep myself on a steady stream of Neurofen for the pain and inflammation.
Because I've had rather a lot of illness this year, I was quite worried about there being something serious wrong with me. Now that I know it's just my 32nd tonsil infection, I suspect all the other health problems were just to do with being extra run down this year. As I've said, it's been a rough year! So now I am feeling quite justified in putting my feet up, watching an unhealthy amount of Buffy, eating some ice cream, drinking some ginger ale, reading books that have nothing to do with my PhD, and sleeping for as many hours as I damn well want. I am not going to yoga and I am not going swimming until this infection starts to clear up (which should be pretty quick once I get on the penicillin).
I walked down to the grocery store earlier this afternoon, and for the first time in quite some time I felt like myself. I had Jay-Z pumping in my headphones, telling the world that he don't give a fuck about their rules, and I just thought, "Since when am I life's bitch?! Since when do I let things being hard stop me? Since when do I let anyone else determine what is best for me?"
Fuck you 2010, I'm taking my life back.
This is death of auto tune, moment of silence.
But something shifted in me in the last couple of days, and I decided to just let myself fall. Scary though it was, I decided to let go and see what happens. And what's happened has taken me by surprise. Once I allowed myself to just go with what I was feeling and be open about my insecurities, the massive cliff didn't seem so massive anymore. In fact, it's been more like falling out of bed. Yeah, I'm a bit startled and sore, but I'm OK, oh, and hey, now that I'm down here, I've found my missing underwear!
I've been incredibly stressed out this year, and my health has suffered from it. As the summer weather finally started to make itself know in Melbourne, I found myself with a pulled neck muscle and the start of a cold that was leaving me weak, dizzy, and tired. I know I'm in shit when my stress and anxiety takes on physical form, so I was feeling extra done in for this week. That combined with a major freak out about my PhD left me looking to spend my weekend curled up under the blankets, away from the world.
But, a couple chiropractor adjustments later and my neck is feeling fine again. A talk with my supervisors about my PhD has lifted some of the anxiety, and their encouragement to give myself a bit of down time means the world, because it means I can just curl up on the couch and watch unhealthy amounts of Buffy and not feel guilty about not working on my PhD. And - OK this one is gross, I'm warning you now - I decided to actually look at what was going on in my throat that was causing me so much pain and discomfort. Well! It's no wonder I've been feeling miserable! My tonsils are basically rotting.
Strange as this may sound, realizing that's what's happening really changed everything for me. Because my tonsils are horrible! They get infected all the freggin' time. For some reason, they haven't gotten infected in my time in Australia, so that's probably why I wasn't immediately aware of what was happening. It's an easy fix: I've got a doctor's appointment on Tuesday, he'll look in my mouth and say "Hmm, well it's probably an infection. We'll take a swab to be sure, but I'll send you away with a prescription for penicillin and you can start on it now." If I was in Canada I would refuse to leave his office until we had a serious discussion about removing my tonsils, but as my health insurance stands now, I would have to pay out of pocket for the surgery and then be partially reimbursed. So I think I'll wait on having that conversation until I have a medicare card. In the meantime, I'll keep myself on a steady stream of Neurofen for the pain and inflammation.
Because I've had rather a lot of illness this year, I was quite worried about there being something serious wrong with me. Now that I know it's just my 32nd tonsil infection, I suspect all the other health problems were just to do with being extra run down this year. As I've said, it's been a rough year! So now I am feeling quite justified in putting my feet up, watching an unhealthy amount of Buffy, eating some ice cream, drinking some ginger ale, reading books that have nothing to do with my PhD, and sleeping for as many hours as I damn well want. I am not going to yoga and I am not going swimming until this infection starts to clear up (which should be pretty quick once I get on the penicillin).
I walked down to the grocery store earlier this afternoon, and for the first time in quite some time I felt like myself. I had Jay-Z pumping in my headphones, telling the world that he don't give a fuck about their rules, and I just thought, "Since when am I life's bitch?! Since when do I let things being hard stop me? Since when do I let anyone else determine what is best for me?"
Fuck you 2010, I'm taking my life back.
This is death of auto tune, moment of silence.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Phobia
Phobias. Everyone's got 'em. An irrational fear of something. And today I came face to face with mine.
So what is it that turns your normally brave and adventurous narrator into a quivering pile of girly screaming jelly?
Death? No, I like being alive but I'm not afraid to die.
Public speaking? Makes me nervous, but that is all.
Spiders? Nah, we're cool. I've killed red backs and white tails without so much as a squeal (though disposing of the bodies is another story altogether...)
Heights? Nope, I'm not the person with the white knuckles gripping the rail.
Balloons? No, I'm quite fond of balloons.
Clowns? I never read that particular Stephen King book...
Bees. Bees scare the fuck outta me. Bees and wasps.
I don't know why these little honey makers fill me with sheer panicky terror. I'm not allergic to them (and if I was, it wouldn't be a phobia, it'd just be sensible). I've been stung enough to know its not the end of the world. Nevertheless, I am absolutely terrified of these little creatures. Over the years I've gotten a bit better with bees. I know they won't sting me unless provoked, so I can generally control myself enough to not shriek and duck for cover and wet myself. Wasps...I generally freeze, turn white, and start dripping big beads of sweat until they fly off or whoever is around me goes "Oh for fuck sake!" and gets rid of them for me.
I haven't had any close encounters with bees or wasps in quite some time. Long enough that I was starting to wonder if maybe my phobia of them is more habitual than genuine. Oh no, it's genuine!
I was walking home from the grocery store this afternoon, listening to my ipod, lost in my thoughts, when I something on my shirt caught my eye. Closer inspection revealed that A BEE was sitting on my boob! It looked happy enough, sitting there, having a rest, enjoying the breeze blowing over it's horrible furry body. Meanwhile, I was coming to terms with the fact that my worst fear was sitting on my boob and I was gonna have to deal with it on my own.
My first instinct, I shit you not, was to just get the fuck outta my shirt and run like hell. Not run like hell because I would then be standing on my street in the middle of the afternoon in my bra, but run like hell to get away from the shirt, which I would never, ever, ever come back for. But I had my headphones in and if I pulled my shirt off, it would've got stuck in them. So, with my shirt halfway off my back, I changed strategies.
I tried to shake it off my shirt, praying that this wouldn't result in it flying up into my face as then I would have burst into tears and started pleading with God to spare my life (again, not allergic to bees). The bee, for it's part, sought out less shaky ground and started crawling it's way up my shirt, towards my face. Again, my shirt almost came off, and I started pleading, out loud, with the bee to please, please just get off of me.
The thoughts rushed through my head: "Why did this have to happen to me when I'm all by myself? Lady Cop is meant to be protecting me from this very fate! Damn her for not being here! Look, it wouldn't be the end of the world to just leave the shirt and the groceries and whatever else behind to get away from this bee. Who cares who sees me?"
I had about 5 seconds to get the bee off my shirt before I said "fuck it" and got the shirt off of me. I grabbed a stick off the ground and bent down so I was close to the ground, gave the bee a flick, and resumed breathing. It was off. And with any luck, it was too confused about what had just happened to be angry with me. I grabbed my groceries and headed home, shaking like a leaf and hyperventilating. Seriously, I didn't shake that much when I got mugged.
Do I feel braver for having successfully confronted my biggest fear? HELL NO! It was AWFUL and I can assure you I will be just as big of a panic stricken baby if it ever happens again. All I can say is thank goodness I live in Australia where any passers by would likely assume I had a rather deadly spider on my shirt and that my reaction was quite sensible.
So what is it that turns your normally brave and adventurous narrator into a quivering pile of girly screaming jelly?
Death? No, I like being alive but I'm not afraid to die.
Public speaking? Makes me nervous, but that is all.
Spiders? Nah, we're cool. I've killed red backs and white tails without so much as a squeal (though disposing of the bodies is another story altogether...)
Heights? Nope, I'm not the person with the white knuckles gripping the rail.
Balloons? No, I'm quite fond of balloons.
Clowns? I never read that particular Stephen King book...
Bees. Bees scare the fuck outta me. Bees and wasps.
I don't know why these little honey makers fill me with sheer panicky terror. I'm not allergic to them (and if I was, it wouldn't be a phobia, it'd just be sensible). I've been stung enough to know its not the end of the world. Nevertheless, I am absolutely terrified of these little creatures. Over the years I've gotten a bit better with bees. I know they won't sting me unless provoked, so I can generally control myself enough to not shriek and duck for cover and wet myself. Wasps...I generally freeze, turn white, and start dripping big beads of sweat until they fly off or whoever is around me goes "Oh for fuck sake!" and gets rid of them for me.
I haven't had any close encounters with bees or wasps in quite some time. Long enough that I was starting to wonder if maybe my phobia of them is more habitual than genuine. Oh no, it's genuine!
I was walking home from the grocery store this afternoon, listening to my ipod, lost in my thoughts, when I something on my shirt caught my eye. Closer inspection revealed that A BEE was sitting on my boob! It looked happy enough, sitting there, having a rest, enjoying the breeze blowing over it's horrible furry body. Meanwhile, I was coming to terms with the fact that my worst fear was sitting on my boob and I was gonna have to deal with it on my own.
My first instinct, I shit you not, was to just get the fuck outta my shirt and run like hell. Not run like hell because I would then be standing on my street in the middle of the afternoon in my bra, but run like hell to get away from the shirt, which I would never, ever, ever come back for. But I had my headphones in and if I pulled my shirt off, it would've got stuck in them. So, with my shirt halfway off my back, I changed strategies.
I tried to shake it off my shirt, praying that this wouldn't result in it flying up into my face as then I would have burst into tears and started pleading with God to spare my life (again, not allergic to bees). The bee, for it's part, sought out less shaky ground and started crawling it's way up my shirt, towards my face. Again, my shirt almost came off, and I started pleading, out loud, with the bee to please, please just get off of me.
The thoughts rushed through my head: "Why did this have to happen to me when I'm all by myself? Lady Cop is meant to be protecting me from this very fate! Damn her for not being here! Look, it wouldn't be the end of the world to just leave the shirt and the groceries and whatever else behind to get away from this bee. Who cares who sees me?"
I had about 5 seconds to get the bee off my shirt before I said "fuck it" and got the shirt off of me. I grabbed a stick off the ground and bent down so I was close to the ground, gave the bee a flick, and resumed breathing. It was off. And with any luck, it was too confused about what had just happened to be angry with me. I grabbed my groceries and headed home, shaking like a leaf and hyperventilating. Seriously, I didn't shake that much when I got mugged.
Do I feel braver for having successfully confronted my biggest fear? HELL NO! It was AWFUL and I can assure you I will be just as big of a panic stricken baby if it ever happens again. All I can say is thank goodness I live in Australia where any passers by would likely assume I had a rather deadly spider on my shirt and that my reaction was quite sensible.
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