I think we often give other people too much strength. We care too much what they think, we are affected by their decisions and choices. Why can't we just be? Just be happy and content with who WE are and not really be that affected by other peoples thoughts and decisions? If only it were so easy...
Not only that, but I think we let other people stress us out without even realizing it. Throughout the past year and a half, I have worked at a store downtown. For most of that time, there was a person who would come into the store to... 'help out', lets say, and this person would constantly stress us all out. I found myself with this incredibly suffocating tension around my neck and shoulders. It was brutal. When this individual was eventually let go, that tension disappeared. I did not put two and two together until yesterday when I was told that this individual would be coming in to see something today. Almost instantly that tension, that blinding pain, was back. Today as well, as we waited with uncertainty for this person to show up, the tension kept mounting and mounting... it turns out that they were unavoidably detained today *cough* and will not be coming in until tomorrow. At an hour when I am not at the store. I will not see them. All of this tension for nothing.
But why did it happen? I am one of those people who can 'talk a good talk' away from people that stress me out. I can think about what to say to them, make up scenarios and conversations in my mind as to what I would ultimately LIKE to say to them... yet given the opportunity, I back down. I am polite and sweet. Why does this happen? With a few other people in my life this happens as well. I cannot speak my mind around them. Granted, I would never do it in a malicious way. I am tactful enough to be able to speak my mind without intentionally or mistakingly hurting anyone else. Yet I cannot do this. I clam up. I cannot express my true feelings.
Why is this!? Does it stem from a lack of self esteem? Do I still believe that my opinion is not important, merely because it is mine? Of is it that underlying need for people to like me?
Whatever it is, it is starting to slowly drive me insane. I live in fear of encountering these people that I would like to speak my mind to, on one of their bad days. On one of those days when they will, undoubtedly, take a negative situation out on me. I know it will happen. I know it is coming... it is just a matter of time... and that thought petrifies me.
How do I let go of these chains? How do I stop allowing people to have so much power?
I think it comes down to my relationship with God. Am I truly depending on Him as much as I need to? Do I actually trust Him to take care of certain situations? Do I prayerfully depend on Him to help me show His love to these people? No. I don't. And I'm beginning to understand that right now, more than anything, this is something that needs to be worked on. Because I cannot keep letting these people have a power over me. I should not have a physical, painful reaction at the thought of seeing someone. This is no way to live. And I am going to try to fight for this to end. Maybe the revolution is finally here...
blessings and love
Deena
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Changes...
I wrote this on the subway today after hearing some rather... interesting and confusing news from home. Now it's starting to make sense in my mind, but this morning as I wrote, I was a wreck. I didn't understand. I felt barely sane. Completely discombobulated... these were my feelings at that time... I figured I might as well share... (I'm doing MUCH better now... sometimes you just have to get it out)
I feel like I have two constant things in my life. God and music. Everything else is constantly changing around me and inside of me...
As one of my closest friends heads back to Bible college... as I struggle to understand and comprehend difficult choices that are being made back at home and how these changes will affect my life... as I try in vain to understand new feelings and emotions that I did not know that I had... I wonder... how could I have prepared for this? For these events? Of course I realize that there is no way that I could have.
Sometimes I feel like emotions and situations sneak up behind us only to slap us in the face. A sneak attack, no warning. The death of a family member, the loss of a job, a surprise pregnancy... these awkward situations seemingly come out of nowhere and then what? What do we do? How do we deal? (Not that I am dealing with ANY of the above, they are just examples)
My brother told me last night that he thinks that I am a stronger person that I think I am... I'm really not so sure... maybe I sell myself short.
But I find myself shying away from situations instead of dealing with them. Sitting in my emotions instead of healing and moving forward. Sitting on the subway with my music blaring in order to block out the world and hopefully cloud some of the thoughts currently attacking my brain. Fefe Dobson, in one of my favorite songs, Revolutionary Song, sings that 'the deamons that stalk us will eventually turn to dust... together we can start this heeling...' but what if they remain until you try to deal with them? The demons? What if you're not sure how to even begin that process? What if... what if you're not sure how to reach out? Or feel too weak to face those demons head on?
You go through life longing for the revolution, but feel too small and insignificant to actually pick up a weapons and fight...
What if...
Blessings and love
Deena
p.s. sometimes you are so uncertain and afraid for the future that being in public is suffocating and at that moment, there is nothing more frightening.
I feel like I have two constant things in my life. God and music. Everything else is constantly changing around me and inside of me...
As one of my closest friends heads back to Bible college... as I struggle to understand and comprehend difficult choices that are being made back at home and how these changes will affect my life... as I try in vain to understand new feelings and emotions that I did not know that I had... I wonder... how could I have prepared for this? For these events? Of course I realize that there is no way that I could have.
Sometimes I feel like emotions and situations sneak up behind us only to slap us in the face. A sneak attack, no warning. The death of a family member, the loss of a job, a surprise pregnancy... these awkward situations seemingly come out of nowhere and then what? What do we do? How do we deal? (Not that I am dealing with ANY of the above, they are just examples)
My brother told me last night that he thinks that I am a stronger person that I think I am... I'm really not so sure... maybe I sell myself short.
But I find myself shying away from situations instead of dealing with them. Sitting in my emotions instead of healing and moving forward. Sitting on the subway with my music blaring in order to block out the world and hopefully cloud some of the thoughts currently attacking my brain. Fefe Dobson, in one of my favorite songs, Revolutionary Song, sings that 'the deamons that stalk us will eventually turn to dust... together we can start this heeling...' but what if they remain until you try to deal with them? The demons? What if you're not sure how to even begin that process? What if... what if you're not sure how to reach out? Or feel too weak to face those demons head on?
You go through life longing for the revolution, but feel too small and insignificant to actually pick up a weapons and fight...
What if...
Blessings and love
Deena
p.s. sometimes you are so uncertain and afraid for the future that being in public is suffocating and at that moment, there is nothing more frightening.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
feelings...
I've started carrying around a little pad of paper and a pen with me everywhere I go. I wrote this on a 45 minute subway ride yesterday to go for tea with my friend before going to ballet. Because I write slower than I type, it might not make as much sense (my thoughts fly past quickly) but here you go... this is what came out. I hope you like it...? ha.
As I struggle in vain to get over my latest crush, who is moving, I can't help but wonder where those feelings will go? Will they just simply disappear? Will they stay and just get deflected onto someone else? Do they change like water into different things made out of the same feeling? Moving into ice and gas seamlessly, into dislike and happiness?
Sometimes I think that is what happens when we break up with someone... the same feeling, that lump of emotions that saturates our entire being, changes from one thing to the next... anger, hope, pain, sorrow... and ultimately a numb, dull feeling that cannot really be labeled as much of anything. But sometimes I think that these feelings never really leave us. Sometimes I think that either initially or right after we have entered that confusing numb attack, our feelings merely hide on us. They set up camp in some dusty corner of our minds that we hardly ever use so we barely ever realize that these feelings still exist... I like to think that my feelings have camped out in the part of my brain meant for math and physics. That would explain so much.
Every so often these feelings wave their hands, which causes a memory to pop up and our heart to stir. Depending on how intense these feelings were to begin with, they may or may not be able to catch our attention. And the first time that we are able to ignore or avoid those feelings, they then disappear, move out.
Depending on initial attachment, I like to think that the feelings are forced to leave after 5 years... there is limited space... some, unfortunately cling on and will not leave.
What happens to the ones that are kicked out? Do we just completely forget that person? Or is it in that moment that we are able to finally look on the person with fondness again? Maybe that's it.
Maybe feelings are malleable. Maybe they mold and change and never really leave us, taking us on random roller coaster rides and through soft and beautiful meadows.
But can we actually change them or is it just a long process that we are forced to endure? Letting them set up camp until they are forced out of changed into fond memories by time and time only? I sometimes wish we could manipulate our feelings, control them. Sometimes, I guess, we can. But I think it's those times when we want to control our feelings the most that we are least able to do just that. That's my experience anyways. And right now... I am incredibly sad. And unfortunately, I cannot change that feeling.
Dang it.
Blessings and love,
Deena
As I struggle in vain to get over my latest crush, who is moving, I can't help but wonder where those feelings will go? Will they just simply disappear? Will they stay and just get deflected onto someone else? Do they change like water into different things made out of the same feeling? Moving into ice and gas seamlessly, into dislike and happiness?
Sometimes I think that is what happens when we break up with someone... the same feeling, that lump of emotions that saturates our entire being, changes from one thing to the next... anger, hope, pain, sorrow... and ultimately a numb, dull feeling that cannot really be labeled as much of anything. But sometimes I think that these feelings never really leave us. Sometimes I think that either initially or right after we have entered that confusing numb attack, our feelings merely hide on us. They set up camp in some dusty corner of our minds that we hardly ever use so we barely ever realize that these feelings still exist... I like to think that my feelings have camped out in the part of my brain meant for math and physics. That would explain so much.
Every so often these feelings wave their hands, which causes a memory to pop up and our heart to stir. Depending on how intense these feelings were to begin with, they may or may not be able to catch our attention. And the first time that we are able to ignore or avoid those feelings, they then disappear, move out.
Depending on initial attachment, I like to think that the feelings are forced to leave after 5 years... there is limited space... some, unfortunately cling on and will not leave.
What happens to the ones that are kicked out? Do we just completely forget that person? Or is it in that moment that we are able to finally look on the person with fondness again? Maybe that's it.
Maybe feelings are malleable. Maybe they mold and change and never really leave us, taking us on random roller coaster rides and through soft and beautiful meadows.
But can we actually change them or is it just a long process that we are forced to endure? Letting them set up camp until they are forced out of changed into fond memories by time and time only? I sometimes wish we could manipulate our feelings, control them. Sometimes, I guess, we can. But I think it's those times when we want to control our feelings the most that we are least able to do just that. That's my experience anyways. And right now... I am incredibly sad. And unfortunately, I cannot change that feeling.
Dang it.
Blessings and love,
Deena
Monday, August 24, 2009
happily ever after
I think to a large extent, Hollywood has ruined us... as I say goodbye to the current object of my affection, a guy who has no idea (or if he does, is gracefully choosing to ignore this fact which... is probably for the best) that I am into him, I realize that secretly I want to do something crazy. I want to rush to the airport before he leaves and confess my feelings, much like Ross in Friends. I want to make some grand gesture. Haha. But no, I'm not that cheesy. No, I'm not that forward. No. It will not, ever, EVER, happen. But still... a small part of me wants to. Because a small part of me believes that this is what happily ever after is made out of. Grand gestures. Because this is what Hollywood has lead me to believe.
But does happily ever after actually exist? I realize that relationships require work. That there is always some give and take to them. My last serious relationship was so flawed... so full of me trying to be perfect for the guy... that I'm not even sure what a relationship should look like. It frightens me. This is why, I think, that after over a year of knowing this guy, I didn't realize my feelings for him until now. Now, when he's leaving. Typical. Because it's safe. Because it would never happen. Because that grand gesture that Hollywood wants me to make will never happen. Lame. I'm kind of lame.
Speaking of that horrible past relationship... my ex contacted me yesterday. Why? I don't know. But it made me mad. I wish he could just leave me alone. He's long since moved on. I'm still shoveling up the pieces. I still see the sadness in my eyes at times... the sadness that somehow appeared on that Wednesday when he told me it was over. That sadness that has stayed with me until now. That encouraged me to make stupid decisions in foreign places. That has tainted every decision towards guys I have made since. Because for the second time in my life, I thought I would marry this ex. For the first time in my life, that person decided on his own that it wasn't going to happen. How do you ever deal with that? How do you ever deal with and get past the fact that you were not good enough for someone? That is a difficult reality to face.
But I try to move on. I try not to think about it, I try not to care. But in doing so, have I let myself heal? I'm not so sure anymore. Can I even be free to look for love if I have such a hard time letting go of this last love? Or will the chains that still hold me eventually fall off when some new man sweeps me off my feet? Who knows. I guess only time will tell.
So I'll move on. Past this current crush, suppressing my feelings once again, past the ex, ignoring the problem all over again, and look forward to the future. And though it is extremely naive to believe in fairy tale endings and happily ever after... a little bit of me does. A little part of me believes in the magic of movies. And for now, right now in this moment, I will cling to that. And I'll get through. And it will be ok. It always is.
Blessings and love,
Deena
But does happily ever after actually exist? I realize that relationships require work. That there is always some give and take to them. My last serious relationship was so flawed... so full of me trying to be perfect for the guy... that I'm not even sure what a relationship should look like. It frightens me. This is why, I think, that after over a year of knowing this guy, I didn't realize my feelings for him until now. Now, when he's leaving. Typical. Because it's safe. Because it would never happen. Because that grand gesture that Hollywood wants me to make will never happen. Lame. I'm kind of lame.
Speaking of that horrible past relationship... my ex contacted me yesterday. Why? I don't know. But it made me mad. I wish he could just leave me alone. He's long since moved on. I'm still shoveling up the pieces. I still see the sadness in my eyes at times... the sadness that somehow appeared on that Wednesday when he told me it was over. That sadness that has stayed with me until now. That encouraged me to make stupid decisions in foreign places. That has tainted every decision towards guys I have made since. Because for the second time in my life, I thought I would marry this ex. For the first time in my life, that person decided on his own that it wasn't going to happen. How do you ever deal with that? How do you ever deal with and get past the fact that you were not good enough for someone? That is a difficult reality to face.
But I try to move on. I try not to think about it, I try not to care. But in doing so, have I let myself heal? I'm not so sure anymore. Can I even be free to look for love if I have such a hard time letting go of this last love? Or will the chains that still hold me eventually fall off when some new man sweeps me off my feet? Who knows. I guess only time will tell.
So I'll move on. Past this current crush, suppressing my feelings once again, past the ex, ignoring the problem all over again, and look forward to the future. And though it is extremely naive to believe in fairy tale endings and happily ever after... a little bit of me does. A little part of me believes in the magic of movies. And for now, right now in this moment, I will cling to that. And I'll get through. And it will be ok. It always is.
Blessings and love,
Deena
an epic moment...
For some reason, I have always been obsessed with experiencing one of the weirdest things. My brain is like a photo album. Throughout every day, I see random snapshots of various moments of my life. I'll see my brothers wedding, a friends wedding, a hilarious moment from years ago, a recital, my graduation from college... Random. I don't control them, it just happens. Sometimes I search for a memory... I know it's in there somewhere, and it actually feels like and I can see, in my mind, myself struggling to turn the pages of this photo album to get to the memory that I intend to find.
One of these memories that comes back to me is, get ready to laugh, the beginning of the Disneyland ride, Pirates of the Caribbean. I KNOW. I told you it was weird. But at the beginning of this ride, you are taken in your watery boat through the backyards of Louisiana, from years ago. You see old grungy men sitting outside their shacks, with lanterns for their light, sometimes fishing, sometimes talking, enjoying the crickets and moonlight. For some reason, I love this.
For some reason, anytime I've seen a movie that has a scene like this, whether it be in Louisiana, circa 1889 or a more modern take like from the movie How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, when they are sitting in the back yard, laughing and talking, playing a card game, I am envious. I want this. I can't remember the last time I had something like this.
Then yesterday, I had an epic night. One that will, undoubtedly, be etched into my minds eye for years to come. One that, I am sure, has already ended up on a blank page of that never ending photo album. One that I will reach for in the future to brighten dark days and make me laugh on others.
Yesterday my friend's mom threw a birthday party for him. Though I've never met his parents, my roommate extended the invitation to me, and I to another friend who had met this one friend briefly. It was out in Oakville, so my 'plus one' came to pick me up and we headed out. The house itself was gorgeous. On a huge lot. Just stunning. Decorated in off whites, light greys and beige, candles and beautiful art work, the house had the touch of class that I hope to have in my life one day. When I own a place, I want it to look and feel like that house did. Extremely classy, yet warm and inviting at the same time.
We went, myself only knowing my roommate, my invited friend, and the birthday boy. Another dear friend showed up later, but we were basically among strangers. They invited us in with hugs and laughter and my friend and I settled in for a beautiful evening.
After giving my friend his birthday present (a childs 'yay you're 2!' card that i changed to read '21' and a gift certificate... listen, I had NO idea what to get him...), we settled in and met the people around us. Some beautiful older (I dislike that word, these people were younger at heart that I am, though in older bodies) people, who encouraged us to sing and applauded when we mockingly joined in to the beautiful c.d's playing. The soundtrack to the night was taken care of by our stunning host, and really was perfect. I think that this is what made the night so epic for me.
After a brilliant supper of home made goodness, most of the younger people left, leaving just a few of us with the older crowd. I loved it. I could listen to them talk for hours. I had a wonderful conversation about opera with our male host. As we sat around the fire on the patio, candles burning all around us, inside and outside of the house, with the soothing sounds of Josh Groban, Diana Krall, Norah Jones, Frank Sinatra, and many others cooing to us, laughter popping up in the pocket conversations all around us... I couldn't help but feel extremely blessed. Looking up at the sky to see the stars that I so often miss in Toronto, I couldn't help but feeling extremely content and happy.
These people, this family, embraced us. Hugged us and brought us in. It was one of the warmest and happiest times, tinged with little moments of sadness for a boy who will be leaving for Montreal soon that I will likely (though regrettably... and I will fight to not let this happen) lose touch with, it was a perfect evening on a perfect summers night in August.
I had my epic night. I enjoyed the brilliance and the beauty of the people all around me, lapping up their warmth and feeling recharged by the simplicity of it all.
And though I had some weird mixed emotions rolling through me, throughout the night, it really was a night to remember. One that I will not soon forget. One that will stay with me always, that I will look to often.
For those involved... thank you.
Blessings and love
Deena
One of these memories that comes back to me is, get ready to laugh, the beginning of the Disneyland ride, Pirates of the Caribbean. I KNOW. I told you it was weird. But at the beginning of this ride, you are taken in your watery boat through the backyards of Louisiana, from years ago. You see old grungy men sitting outside their shacks, with lanterns for their light, sometimes fishing, sometimes talking, enjoying the crickets and moonlight. For some reason, I love this.
For some reason, anytime I've seen a movie that has a scene like this, whether it be in Louisiana, circa 1889 or a more modern take like from the movie How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, when they are sitting in the back yard, laughing and talking, playing a card game, I am envious. I want this. I can't remember the last time I had something like this.
Then yesterday, I had an epic night. One that will, undoubtedly, be etched into my minds eye for years to come. One that, I am sure, has already ended up on a blank page of that never ending photo album. One that I will reach for in the future to brighten dark days and make me laugh on others.
Yesterday my friend's mom threw a birthday party for him. Though I've never met his parents, my roommate extended the invitation to me, and I to another friend who had met this one friend briefly. It was out in Oakville, so my 'plus one' came to pick me up and we headed out. The house itself was gorgeous. On a huge lot. Just stunning. Decorated in off whites, light greys and beige, candles and beautiful art work, the house had the touch of class that I hope to have in my life one day. When I own a place, I want it to look and feel like that house did. Extremely classy, yet warm and inviting at the same time.
We went, myself only knowing my roommate, my invited friend, and the birthday boy. Another dear friend showed up later, but we were basically among strangers. They invited us in with hugs and laughter and my friend and I settled in for a beautiful evening.
After giving my friend his birthday present (a childs 'yay you're 2!' card that i changed to read '21' and a gift certificate... listen, I had NO idea what to get him...), we settled in and met the people around us. Some beautiful older (I dislike that word, these people were younger at heart that I am, though in older bodies) people, who encouraged us to sing and applauded when we mockingly joined in to the beautiful c.d's playing. The soundtrack to the night was taken care of by our stunning host, and really was perfect. I think that this is what made the night so epic for me.
After a brilliant supper of home made goodness, most of the younger people left, leaving just a few of us with the older crowd. I loved it. I could listen to them talk for hours. I had a wonderful conversation about opera with our male host. As we sat around the fire on the patio, candles burning all around us, inside and outside of the house, with the soothing sounds of Josh Groban, Diana Krall, Norah Jones, Frank Sinatra, and many others cooing to us, laughter popping up in the pocket conversations all around us... I couldn't help but feel extremely blessed. Looking up at the sky to see the stars that I so often miss in Toronto, I couldn't help but feeling extremely content and happy.
These people, this family, embraced us. Hugged us and brought us in. It was one of the warmest and happiest times, tinged with little moments of sadness for a boy who will be leaving for Montreal soon that I will likely (though regrettably... and I will fight to not let this happen) lose touch with, it was a perfect evening on a perfect summers night in August.
I had my epic night. I enjoyed the brilliance and the beauty of the people all around me, lapping up their warmth and feeling recharged by the simplicity of it all.
And though I had some weird mixed emotions rolling through me, throughout the night, it really was a night to remember. One that I will not soon forget. One that will stay with me always, that I will look to often.
For those involved... thank you.
Blessings and love
Deena
Friday, August 21, 2009
Emotional habits
A talk with a friend last night prompted many thoughts throughout the night and this morning...
He had mentioned how it had been a difficult summer for him, how he had encountered many negative and even destructive thoughts. He then suggested that I would obviously have no idea what he was talking about or be able to understand... haha. How wrong he was.
I grew up in a small town. My school, K-12 was 600 people. My graduating class was 32, I believe. When you grow up in these conditions, there is no way to make a new, fresh start. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, the 'cool kids' in my school, right from grade 1 on, hated me. Made fun of me. Called me fat, ugly, worthless... and what do you do when you're a child being told these things by the people that you want to be like? You believe them.
I grew up with 2 battling thoughts and ideas in my head... my upbringing (and continuing belief and practice) in the Christian church lead me to believe that I was a beautiful creation, that God did not make mistakes. Yet my reality showed me that I was worthless. Ugly. Not needed. Not important. Through a series of events, I learned not to trust people. I learned to be careful. But I also learned to lie... because I didn't believe that people would like the real me. I thought that I was so pathetic, I had to make up lies and schemes in order for people to like me.
Towards the end of grade 7, a new group of friends somehow invited me in. They loved me. They laughed with me. And in the beginning, I lied to them. Constantly. I didn't believe, I didn't trust that they would care about me. Slowly, I let my guard down. And slowly they embraced me. Slowly I became a real person, instead of a shallow shell that merely existed. I started to dream. I started to live. For that, for them, I am forever grateful.
But depression runs in my family and it soon hit. Many of my years were spent with laughter on the outside and pain on the inside. In college I started seeing images of myself hanging from buildings... and one day God took that all away. The images. I still struggled, still worried that no one cared, even though anyone who knew me would tell you that I was extremely popular.
The musician Moby has made a great impact on my life. But it was not his music that first drew me to him, it was an interview I saw of him on Much Music in which one of the VJ's asked him why, in light of all of his success, he still seemed depressed, still was hard on himself. "It's hard to change the emotional habits of a lifetime" Moby responded. I was hooked. Because I agreed and could relate.
This conversation with my friend last night helped me to see something. As he told me about how he had put his music off throughout the summer, how he had no passion for it, I was reminded of the fact that when I get depressed or even just down, I barely practice. But when I start to practice again, my spirits rise.
I am never happier than when I am singing. I often forget this.
Having just done a performance a week ago, I can tell you that as I've grown up, as I've matured, as I've become more confident in my music, I have become more confident as a person. The same is in reverse. As I have become more confident as a person, stood up for myself in many instances, I have become a much more confident singer. The two, for me, go hand in hand. As I've dove head first into my dream, it has held me with gentle arms, allowing me to grow and change myself into a stronger, more passionate, more confident person. Music is my life. Music leads me back to God when I have gone astray. Music continually breaks me. Music reminds me that I am loved. Music, singing, is a part of my soul.
I still have a difficult time believing the positive about me. When people, friends, tell me that I did a good job performing, though I thank them and appreciate it, these words never penetrate my heart, I don't think that I ever truly believe them. Yet, after the performance last Friday, a gentleman that I had never met came up to me and said "You have a beautiful voice. Truly. Keep singing". And for once... for once I believed it.
I'm still learning. Still growing. Still trying to figure life out. But aren't we all?
Blessings and love
Deena
He had mentioned how it had been a difficult summer for him, how he had encountered many negative and even destructive thoughts. He then suggested that I would obviously have no idea what he was talking about or be able to understand... haha. How wrong he was.
I grew up in a small town. My school, K-12 was 600 people. My graduating class was 32, I believe. When you grow up in these conditions, there is no way to make a new, fresh start. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, the 'cool kids' in my school, right from grade 1 on, hated me. Made fun of me. Called me fat, ugly, worthless... and what do you do when you're a child being told these things by the people that you want to be like? You believe them.
I grew up with 2 battling thoughts and ideas in my head... my upbringing (and continuing belief and practice) in the Christian church lead me to believe that I was a beautiful creation, that God did not make mistakes. Yet my reality showed me that I was worthless. Ugly. Not needed. Not important. Through a series of events, I learned not to trust people. I learned to be careful. But I also learned to lie... because I didn't believe that people would like the real me. I thought that I was so pathetic, I had to make up lies and schemes in order for people to like me.
Towards the end of grade 7, a new group of friends somehow invited me in. They loved me. They laughed with me. And in the beginning, I lied to them. Constantly. I didn't believe, I didn't trust that they would care about me. Slowly, I let my guard down. And slowly they embraced me. Slowly I became a real person, instead of a shallow shell that merely existed. I started to dream. I started to live. For that, for them, I am forever grateful.
But depression runs in my family and it soon hit. Many of my years were spent with laughter on the outside and pain on the inside. In college I started seeing images of myself hanging from buildings... and one day God took that all away. The images. I still struggled, still worried that no one cared, even though anyone who knew me would tell you that I was extremely popular.
The musician Moby has made a great impact on my life. But it was not his music that first drew me to him, it was an interview I saw of him on Much Music in which one of the VJ's asked him why, in light of all of his success, he still seemed depressed, still was hard on himself. "It's hard to change the emotional habits of a lifetime" Moby responded. I was hooked. Because I agreed and could relate.
This conversation with my friend last night helped me to see something. As he told me about how he had put his music off throughout the summer, how he had no passion for it, I was reminded of the fact that when I get depressed or even just down, I barely practice. But when I start to practice again, my spirits rise.
I am never happier than when I am singing. I often forget this.
Having just done a performance a week ago, I can tell you that as I've grown up, as I've matured, as I've become more confident in my music, I have become more confident as a person. The same is in reverse. As I have become more confident as a person, stood up for myself in many instances, I have become a much more confident singer. The two, for me, go hand in hand. As I've dove head first into my dream, it has held me with gentle arms, allowing me to grow and change myself into a stronger, more passionate, more confident person. Music is my life. Music leads me back to God when I have gone astray. Music continually breaks me. Music reminds me that I am loved. Music, singing, is a part of my soul.
I still have a difficult time believing the positive about me. When people, friends, tell me that I did a good job performing, though I thank them and appreciate it, these words never penetrate my heart, I don't think that I ever truly believe them. Yet, after the performance last Friday, a gentleman that I had never met came up to me and said "You have a beautiful voice. Truly. Keep singing". And for once... for once I believed it.
I'm still learning. Still growing. Still trying to figure life out. But aren't we all?
Blessings and love
Deena
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
destruction...
It is amazing what words can do to a person. They can lift them up, they can make a day. Or they can destroy a friendship, they can ruin and end a life.
Harsh words, verbal abuse, can lead to suicide, to masked gun men massacring countless people that they don't know... can lead to eating disorders, cutting problems, low self esteem, further disruptive relationships, physical abuse... can leave a wonderful, brilliant, caring, beautiful, Godly person in a crying, trembling heap on the floor, crying out to God for healing yet continually being bombarded with words of hate ringing in their ears... leaving other people to sit back and think how in the world can we help?
I beg of you. All of you. If you are in a verbally abusive relationship, GET OUT. Or at the very least, confront the person. Communication is key... please... communication is everything. I was chatting with a friend tonight and he said that he had heard that communication is 80% physical. Can we please change that number?
I think that it is SO important to talk to people when they have hurt you, when you have cooled down enough to talk to them in a calm manner. It is very important.
Now, I'm one to talk... I'm extremely upset at someone right now, have been for weeks, but can I talk to them? Can I confront them about this? No. Though I find that my feelings are somewhat unfair, I have been upset by their actions, or lack there of, but cannot find the courage to say anything. So, instead, I walk around tense... knowing at some point I am going to explode, whether it is on that person or not. Tell me, what is the healthiest thing to do here? TALK TO THEM?! Right. Right, I should do that. If not for their sanity, but for mine.
We need to start taking care of ourselves mentally. That includes standing up for ourselves, (though I always maintain that for as long as possible, this should be done in a respectful way), not putting up with relationships that are abusive in any way, we should find the time to be with people who are up lifting to us, and steer clear of people who constantly bring us down.
Please... take care of yourselves... or someday you could end up in a terrible situation and have no idea how you have gotten there... and completely lose hope... please, don't lose hope... please... take care of yourselves...
Blessings and love
De
Harsh words, verbal abuse, can lead to suicide, to masked gun men massacring countless people that they don't know... can lead to eating disorders, cutting problems, low self esteem, further disruptive relationships, physical abuse... can leave a wonderful, brilliant, caring, beautiful, Godly person in a crying, trembling heap on the floor, crying out to God for healing yet continually being bombarded with words of hate ringing in their ears... leaving other people to sit back and think how in the world can we help?
I beg of you. All of you. If you are in a verbally abusive relationship, GET OUT. Or at the very least, confront the person. Communication is key... please... communication is everything. I was chatting with a friend tonight and he said that he had heard that communication is 80% physical. Can we please change that number?
I think that it is SO important to talk to people when they have hurt you, when you have cooled down enough to talk to them in a calm manner. It is very important.
Now, I'm one to talk... I'm extremely upset at someone right now, have been for weeks, but can I talk to them? Can I confront them about this? No. Though I find that my feelings are somewhat unfair, I have been upset by their actions, or lack there of, but cannot find the courage to say anything. So, instead, I walk around tense... knowing at some point I am going to explode, whether it is on that person or not. Tell me, what is the healthiest thing to do here? TALK TO THEM?! Right. Right, I should do that. If not for their sanity, but for mine.
We need to start taking care of ourselves mentally. That includes standing up for ourselves, (though I always maintain that for as long as possible, this should be done in a respectful way), not putting up with relationships that are abusive in any way, we should find the time to be with people who are up lifting to us, and steer clear of people who constantly bring us down.
Please... take care of yourselves... or someday you could end up in a terrible situation and have no idea how you have gotten there... and completely lose hope... please, don't lose hope... please... take care of yourselves...
Blessings and love
De
Monday, August 17, 2009
a hilarious reminder of how God takes care of us...
Throughout my life, I have been in a few situations that could possibly have ended in death. None of these situations, however, have even ended up in an accident. For that, I am eternally grateful.
I think that God gets a kick out of reminding me that I'm not supposed to die yet, that I have a great work to do here on this earth. For someone who used to be suicidal... that's an incredibly humbling and beautiful reminder.
Saturday, after a fantastic last week and performance with Opera Atelier, my friend Abby and I were off to a wedding. I didn't know the bride and groom. But Abby's friends had created excuses not to go and I became her 'plus one'. Why not. Free food? Road trip to Hamilton? Sounds like a good time. Little did I know that God was going to incredibly bless us the entire day!
Abby lives in Mississauga, but came to Toronto to pick me up. We were flipping a U-turn to go to Starbucks before hitting the road, when a couple on the street flagged us down to tell us that our back right tire was flat. Wow. If that had happened on the highway, we could have gotten into an accident, or worse. Ok, no worries.
We drove to a gas station that I knew about, filled the tire up with air, were just about to check the pressure when BAM. Right in my ear, the tire bursts. I thought it was hilarious. Abby, not so much. But after a call to her parents, and a stern 'Gods got this' from me, the tears dried and we got to work. We pulled out the spare tire and were about to start changing this sucker in our skirts when a lovely gentleman, who was clearly on his way to the office or to a wedding himself, pulled into the station and helped us. We had a nice chat. The tire was rusted on a bit and so another gentleman came over and helped him pry it off. After giving them bottles of water and much appreciation, they left and we were on our way, planning to stop off at Abby's house to change cars.
We were on the QEW, I believe, when she heard and felt something... we pulled over to the side of the road, looked out the door and bam. More tears from her, more laughter from me. Left front tire, flat, on the side of the highway. AGAIN, no accident, we were safe, we were good. As she was calling her mom, a guy from a side street beside us, came over to see if we were ok. We were, I motioned to him, and he left, to get back into a tow truck! What are the odds!? We pulled off the highway into a parking lot and got Starbucks :o) Which was fabulous.
Her mom showed up and we switched cars to her step-dads. Her mom, bless her heart, then dealt with the other car problem. 2 flat tires down... and we're on the way to the wedding.
Knowing we were going to be late, but hoping to catch at least the ending, we showed up to the location right when everyone was streaming out of the door. Opps! Oh well, we still got to go to the reception!
We had about 3 and a half hours in between, so we spent them at a Wendy's, studying out music and me teaching Abby some Italian for her junior recital.
While we were there, Abby's step dad called to inform us that the car that we now had, had a slow leak on the back left tire. No problem, we would fill it up and keep an eye on it.
Before we drove out to the reception location, we topped the tire up and were on our way.
The reception was fantastic. Even though Abby only knew one or two people there and I only knew her, the girls at our table embraced us and we had a fantastic time on the dance floor! The DJ, and 2 other guys chatted and danced with the girls from our table (us included) the whole night as well and it was a fabulous time. It really was!
We left around 10, with promises of finding some of our new friends on facebook, and headed to Dairy Queen for a little snack.
When we came out, we checked the tire again, it looked fine, and we set off.
Now, why we ended up where we did in Toronto, I'll never know. We were extremely north... and I live very south... but when Abby heard something, we were north of Finch on the 427, a 3 lane highway. We pulled over to the side of the road, and sure enough, the tire was flat. More tears, more laughter.
It is now 11:15. We're exhausted, but this is just too hilarious for me, so I'm hardly able to contain myself as we set to work to change this tire. I'm calling a few people to help us, to come get us, anything. Abby told her parents not to bother coming, that we could do this and it would be fine. Bless their hearts, they came anyways. We loosened all of the nuts and were looking for the jack when we realized... we didn't have a jack. WHAT THE HECK!?! No jack. This is when I start calling more friends... no one is answering... and the one person who does tells me that he doesn't know where we are, so he can't help us. Wow. Nice. Thanks for leaving us stranded on the side of the road because you can't look at a map... Kind of bitter about that. 2 friends DID call back however. One who was, unfortunately, extremely far from Toronto, and one, my dear, David Ross. Dave, before I was even able to tell him that I was going to need a ride home because Abby's parents were now there and were't too impressed and wouldn't want to drive me home, offered to come and get me. Bless his heart.
We sat in the other car, while Charles, Abby's step-dad, tried to get the tire off. But it wouldn't budge. Dave showed up, all knight in shining armor like, in his blue mazda, and around 1:15 in the morning, 14 hours and 3 flat tires after we left, Dave had me on my way home and Abby and her parents had taken the car to a parking lot where it would stay for the night.
Throughout the whole situation, I could see Gods fingerprints. He took care of us every step of the way. While we were stranded on the highway, NO ONE stopped that third time. Until Charles was out trying to get the tire off and Dave was on his way. One, single biker, stopped to see if he could help. That was it. Abby and I, clearly not planning on harming anyone, in skirts, dressed up, on the side of the road, trying to change a tire... and no one stopped. But you know, through it all, there was never a paniced moment for me. There was never any real fear. Because God had taken care of us so brilliantly... because Abby had noticed something wrong every time there was a problem... because there were no accidents, no broken bones, no even chance of death... I was completely calm. God was with us every single step of the way.
What a beautiful reminder that we can praise Him through it ALL. Through the most ridiculous of circumstances. When we are exhausted and at our wits end, He still is there, He is constant, He will take care of us and provide. Even though sometimes, in His incredible wisdom, He will say 'no' to us... He is always there. Constant. Providing, taking care of us. In the little things and the big things, He never gives us more than we can handle... and even when a situation seems crushing, seems like we cannot survive... with Him, we can. Anything is possible when God is in the picture.
What a fantastic day. What a fantastic reminder. What a fantastic story. What a brilliant God we serve and love :o)
Blessings and love
Deena
I think that God gets a kick out of reminding me that I'm not supposed to die yet, that I have a great work to do here on this earth. For someone who used to be suicidal... that's an incredibly humbling and beautiful reminder.
Saturday, after a fantastic last week and performance with Opera Atelier, my friend Abby and I were off to a wedding. I didn't know the bride and groom. But Abby's friends had created excuses not to go and I became her 'plus one'. Why not. Free food? Road trip to Hamilton? Sounds like a good time. Little did I know that God was going to incredibly bless us the entire day!
Abby lives in Mississauga, but came to Toronto to pick me up. We were flipping a U-turn to go to Starbucks before hitting the road, when a couple on the street flagged us down to tell us that our back right tire was flat. Wow. If that had happened on the highway, we could have gotten into an accident, or worse. Ok, no worries.
We drove to a gas station that I knew about, filled the tire up with air, were just about to check the pressure when BAM. Right in my ear, the tire bursts. I thought it was hilarious. Abby, not so much. But after a call to her parents, and a stern 'Gods got this' from me, the tears dried and we got to work. We pulled out the spare tire and were about to start changing this sucker in our skirts when a lovely gentleman, who was clearly on his way to the office or to a wedding himself, pulled into the station and helped us. We had a nice chat. The tire was rusted on a bit and so another gentleman came over and helped him pry it off. After giving them bottles of water and much appreciation, they left and we were on our way, planning to stop off at Abby's house to change cars.
We were on the QEW, I believe, when she heard and felt something... we pulled over to the side of the road, looked out the door and bam. More tears from her, more laughter from me. Left front tire, flat, on the side of the highway. AGAIN, no accident, we were safe, we were good. As she was calling her mom, a guy from a side street beside us, came over to see if we were ok. We were, I motioned to him, and he left, to get back into a tow truck! What are the odds!? We pulled off the highway into a parking lot and got Starbucks :o) Which was fabulous.
Her mom showed up and we switched cars to her step-dads. Her mom, bless her heart, then dealt with the other car problem. 2 flat tires down... and we're on the way to the wedding.
Knowing we were going to be late, but hoping to catch at least the ending, we showed up to the location right when everyone was streaming out of the door. Opps! Oh well, we still got to go to the reception!
We had about 3 and a half hours in between, so we spent them at a Wendy's, studying out music and me teaching Abby some Italian for her junior recital.
While we were there, Abby's step dad called to inform us that the car that we now had, had a slow leak on the back left tire. No problem, we would fill it up and keep an eye on it.
Before we drove out to the reception location, we topped the tire up and were on our way.
The reception was fantastic. Even though Abby only knew one or two people there and I only knew her, the girls at our table embraced us and we had a fantastic time on the dance floor! The DJ, and 2 other guys chatted and danced with the girls from our table (us included) the whole night as well and it was a fabulous time. It really was!
We left around 10, with promises of finding some of our new friends on facebook, and headed to Dairy Queen for a little snack.
When we came out, we checked the tire again, it looked fine, and we set off.
Now, why we ended up where we did in Toronto, I'll never know. We were extremely north... and I live very south... but when Abby heard something, we were north of Finch on the 427, a 3 lane highway. We pulled over to the side of the road, and sure enough, the tire was flat. More tears, more laughter.
It is now 11:15. We're exhausted, but this is just too hilarious for me, so I'm hardly able to contain myself as we set to work to change this tire. I'm calling a few people to help us, to come get us, anything. Abby told her parents not to bother coming, that we could do this and it would be fine. Bless their hearts, they came anyways. We loosened all of the nuts and were looking for the jack when we realized... we didn't have a jack. WHAT THE HECK!?! No jack. This is when I start calling more friends... no one is answering... and the one person who does tells me that he doesn't know where we are, so he can't help us. Wow. Nice. Thanks for leaving us stranded on the side of the road because you can't look at a map... Kind of bitter about that. 2 friends DID call back however. One who was, unfortunately, extremely far from Toronto, and one, my dear, David Ross. Dave, before I was even able to tell him that I was going to need a ride home because Abby's parents were now there and were't too impressed and wouldn't want to drive me home, offered to come and get me. Bless his heart.
We sat in the other car, while Charles, Abby's step-dad, tried to get the tire off. But it wouldn't budge. Dave showed up, all knight in shining armor like, in his blue mazda, and around 1:15 in the morning, 14 hours and 3 flat tires after we left, Dave had me on my way home and Abby and her parents had taken the car to a parking lot where it would stay for the night.
Throughout the whole situation, I could see Gods fingerprints. He took care of us every step of the way. While we were stranded on the highway, NO ONE stopped that third time. Until Charles was out trying to get the tire off and Dave was on his way. One, single biker, stopped to see if he could help. That was it. Abby and I, clearly not planning on harming anyone, in skirts, dressed up, on the side of the road, trying to change a tire... and no one stopped. But you know, through it all, there was never a paniced moment for me. There was never any real fear. Because God had taken care of us so brilliantly... because Abby had noticed something wrong every time there was a problem... because there were no accidents, no broken bones, no even chance of death... I was completely calm. God was with us every single step of the way.
What a beautiful reminder that we can praise Him through it ALL. Through the most ridiculous of circumstances. When we are exhausted and at our wits end, He still is there, He is constant, He will take care of us and provide. Even though sometimes, in His incredible wisdom, He will say 'no' to us... He is always there. Constant. Providing, taking care of us. In the little things and the big things, He never gives us more than we can handle... and even when a situation seems crushing, seems like we cannot survive... with Him, we can. Anything is possible when God is in the picture.
What a fantastic day. What a fantastic reminder. What a fantastic story. What a brilliant God we serve and love :o)
Blessings and love
Deena
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Jen and Jeff's Wedding
It seems extremely fitting that I would be broken at my dear friend Jen's wedding. Broken continually throughout the whole night... was not something that I was expecting on prepared for.
It was a beautiful wedding. My parents were supposed to come out, but were unable to make it, so my dear friend Dalton stepped up and was a fabulous date. He held his own in the crowds as I reconnected with friends, ended up on stage playing bongos with the band, lead the singing when the mics suddenly stopped working, got me on the dance floor, and even danced with the grooms mom! A good date! haha.
Jen is a very special friend. A very special friend that I have slowly pushed very gently out of my life these past few months... though I'm not sure why.
Bruxy, my pastor, once said that when we are going through hard times spiritually, we tend to push away our good Christian friends because we are afraid that they will judge us. Well, I KNOW Jen and there is no way she would ever judge anyone. Yet somehow my subconscious started pushing and without realizing, I let it happen.
Jen has known me longer than most of my friends. This summer is our 10th anniversary of meeting. She was 22, I was 15, when we met. She describes me as a very dark teenager, and describes the different now as a change from darkness to light. Somehow though, I think that the darkness has seeped a bit back in...
Jen has been there for me through it all... I don't know if she realizes it or not, but she is one the most important spiritual leaders in my life. I have no idea why she loves me. Yet she does. Maybe she sees the hurt that other people don't tend to see. Maybe it's because she's known me for so long. Maybe she knows that I just sometimes need a hug. Maybe.... I don't know.
Jen is the most beautiful person that I know. Hands down. Inside and out, she just exudes joy, love, laughter. I look at her and I see Jesus. Every time. It is by the grace of God alone that she found someone to share her life that is EXACTLY the same in this sense, in every way. Her new husband also shines with joy, love, laughter, life, and looks like Jesus as well. To witness these two get married today... what a treat. What a joy. To have them in my life, even if just in a small way... what an unbelievable blessing.
Jeff embraced me as well. Though I'm crazy and weird, he embraced me fully. I look at the two of them and see how a relatinoship should be. Love. Openness. Communication. Focused on Jesus. They LIVE. They don't just merely survive. These are two people filled with life. And a life that is completely, 100% centered around Christ. I long for that... I strive for that... and I feel like I fall so short...
So today, you could feel the joy. You could feel the love. And this is why it was the most amazing and touching wedding that I have ever been to. Because the love that they share, they joy that they feel, it is infectious. And you cannot help but feel it as well, when they are around.
It is extremely fitting that I was continually broken today... because Jen is an inspiration to me. She is one of my heros. In every way possible. To see her so happy... I almost cried the last time I hugged her... I don't think she knew I was choking back tears... she was probably thinking 'why does she keep hugging me?'. I felt so much overwhelming love for her... I've seen her go through bad relationships in the past. To see this love... to see that this love is REAL... it's a miracle to my eyes. It's beautiful. It makes me cry.
And so today... as I humbly struggle to sweep together the pieces of a relationship with Christ that I have somehow left by the wayside, I was broken. At my beautiful friends' wedding. And that brokenness has never felt so right...
Blessings and love
Deena
It was a beautiful wedding. My parents were supposed to come out, but were unable to make it, so my dear friend Dalton stepped up and was a fabulous date. He held his own in the crowds as I reconnected with friends, ended up on stage playing bongos with the band, lead the singing when the mics suddenly stopped working, got me on the dance floor, and even danced with the grooms mom! A good date! haha.
Jen is a very special friend. A very special friend that I have slowly pushed very gently out of my life these past few months... though I'm not sure why.
Bruxy, my pastor, once said that when we are going through hard times spiritually, we tend to push away our good Christian friends because we are afraid that they will judge us. Well, I KNOW Jen and there is no way she would ever judge anyone. Yet somehow my subconscious started pushing and without realizing, I let it happen.
Jen has known me longer than most of my friends. This summer is our 10th anniversary of meeting. She was 22, I was 15, when we met. She describes me as a very dark teenager, and describes the different now as a change from darkness to light. Somehow though, I think that the darkness has seeped a bit back in...
Jen has been there for me through it all... I don't know if she realizes it or not, but she is one the most important spiritual leaders in my life. I have no idea why she loves me. Yet she does. Maybe she sees the hurt that other people don't tend to see. Maybe it's because she's known me for so long. Maybe she knows that I just sometimes need a hug. Maybe.... I don't know.
Jen is the most beautiful person that I know. Hands down. Inside and out, she just exudes joy, love, laughter. I look at her and I see Jesus. Every time. It is by the grace of God alone that she found someone to share her life that is EXACTLY the same in this sense, in every way. Her new husband also shines with joy, love, laughter, life, and looks like Jesus as well. To witness these two get married today... what a treat. What a joy. To have them in my life, even if just in a small way... what an unbelievable blessing.
Jeff embraced me as well. Though I'm crazy and weird, he embraced me fully. I look at the two of them and see how a relatinoship should be. Love. Openness. Communication. Focused on Jesus. They LIVE. They don't just merely survive. These are two people filled with life. And a life that is completely, 100% centered around Christ. I long for that... I strive for that... and I feel like I fall so short...
So today, you could feel the joy. You could feel the love. And this is why it was the most amazing and touching wedding that I have ever been to. Because the love that they share, they joy that they feel, it is infectious. And you cannot help but feel it as well, when they are around.
It is extremely fitting that I was continually broken today... because Jen is an inspiration to me. She is one of my heros. In every way possible. To see her so happy... I almost cried the last time I hugged her... I don't think she knew I was choking back tears... she was probably thinking 'why does she keep hugging me?'. I felt so much overwhelming love for her... I've seen her go through bad relationships in the past. To see this love... to see that this love is REAL... it's a miracle to my eyes. It's beautiful. It makes me cry.
And so today... as I humbly struggle to sweep together the pieces of a relationship with Christ that I have somehow left by the wayside, I was broken. At my beautiful friends' wedding. And that brokenness has never felt so right...
Blessings and love
Deena
Monday, August 3, 2009
Disheveled.
I don't have nightmares very often. But when I do, they are of one of three things. 1. demons. 2. the most important people in my life dying. 3. tornadoes.
Ever since the Pine Lake tornado hit my camp ground what... 11 years ago?... I've been petrified. This tornado killed 13 people. I found out about it while on tour, in Barrie, Ontario. I was horrified, yet SO thankful when I found out that my family had not gone up that weekend... which... well... could only have happened by the grace of God, because they ALWAYS went camping at that point.
Ever since this happened the most re-occurring nightmares I have are of tornadoes.
Last night, my home town was hit by a tornado like storm. 120 km winds... coming out of nowhere, constant lightning, non merciful thunder pulsating it's way through the wind and the biggest hail imaginable. The damage is ridiculous. My family is safe. I haven't heard of any injuries, which I am thankful for. Yet the hail damage... is grotesque.
All day long, I have been looking at friends and families updated pictures on facebook from the aftermath of this spontaneous storm.... I look around my town... the town that I grew up in... which is always changing... and I am heart broken.
Things will be repaired. Life will go on. Insurance companies will smile with glee.
But something, a small part of you, dies when you see the place that you grew up and loved, looking so disheveled. Though always changing and growing, it still remains the one constant thing in my life... the one place I can go back to and feel safe and like I'm home...
To see it hurting... to see my town ripped up, torn apart, ancient trees pulled down by unseen giants in the night... sidding on old familiar houses now showing gashes like chicken pox all over these innocent homes... windows smashed through like missing teeth...
I am uneasy. I am grateful that everyone is ok. But a part of me is torn. I want to go back. To see this with my own eyes, first hand. To help repare what was damaged. I wish I could have been there to cower with my family in the basement in the middle of the darkest night of their lives. I wish I could just hug them all... right now... because when my world collapses... just a little bit... that's all I want. Is that reassuring hug that everything will be ok. And I know that it will be. In time.
Blessings and love
Deena
Ever since the Pine Lake tornado hit my camp ground what... 11 years ago?... I've been petrified. This tornado killed 13 people. I found out about it while on tour, in Barrie, Ontario. I was horrified, yet SO thankful when I found out that my family had not gone up that weekend... which... well... could only have happened by the grace of God, because they ALWAYS went camping at that point.
Ever since this happened the most re-occurring nightmares I have are of tornadoes.
Last night, my home town was hit by a tornado like storm. 120 km winds... coming out of nowhere, constant lightning, non merciful thunder pulsating it's way through the wind and the biggest hail imaginable. The damage is ridiculous. My family is safe. I haven't heard of any injuries, which I am thankful for. Yet the hail damage... is grotesque.
All day long, I have been looking at friends and families updated pictures on facebook from the aftermath of this spontaneous storm.... I look around my town... the town that I grew up in... which is always changing... and I am heart broken.
Things will be repaired. Life will go on. Insurance companies will smile with glee.
But something, a small part of you, dies when you see the place that you grew up and loved, looking so disheveled. Though always changing and growing, it still remains the one constant thing in my life... the one place I can go back to and feel safe and like I'm home...
To see it hurting... to see my town ripped up, torn apart, ancient trees pulled down by unseen giants in the night... sidding on old familiar houses now showing gashes like chicken pox all over these innocent homes... windows smashed through like missing teeth...
I am uneasy. I am grateful that everyone is ok. But a part of me is torn. I want to go back. To see this with my own eyes, first hand. To help repare what was damaged. I wish I could have been there to cower with my family in the basement in the middle of the darkest night of their lives. I wish I could just hug them all... right now... because when my world collapses... just a little bit... that's all I want. Is that reassuring hug that everything will be ok. And I know that it will be. In time.
Blessings and love
Deena
Judgement
There are times when I find myself laying on my bed, either too exhausted or in too much pain to move, when Java will come in and give me a look like 'Get up and do something Mum' (because she clearly would be British), and I realize in that moment that I have allowed my own cat to judge me.
Eleanor Roosevelt, in her 1937 autobiography, This Is My Story, said "no one can make you feel inferior without your consent". A brilliant quote from a brilliant lady.
A chat with roommate yesterday sparked my brain into over drive. Often at work, I find that I feel slightly ashamed. I feel as if people need to know that I'm still studying, that I'm a musician, something, because a part of me feels embarrassed to be 25 and serving tea to lawyers. I sometimes feel judged by the people that I serve, and I feel as if I need to clarify that this is not my chosen career path, that I am aiming for bigger and better things.
But wait a second... those people aren't ACTUALLY judging me are they? Nope. They really aren't. So what is my problem? I am doing a double judgment. I am judging them, thinking that they are in turn judging me. Thinking that they are too high and mighty to see myself for who I truly am. But most of the time, this is not the case.
Roommate, who studied psychology, brought up a very interesting point yesterday in the midst of our discussion. You know those beautiful girls in high school that all of us regular or not so popular girls tend to hate? We don't allow them to have any sort of feeling. They aren't allowed to be happy or sad or upset or struggle with things... we view them as being perfect and judgmental. We assume that they judge our every move, even though it's usually us that are judging them. I think that this still happens in every day life.
A attractive young lady came into work the other day and as I was making my way over to serve her, I actually thought to myself, this lady is going to suck... and yet she was nice and funny and we laughed together over lame comments we BOTH made... and I thought to myself after... what is MY problem!?
Sometimes I think that we are programed by society in many ways. Obviously, we are all aware of some of these issues, but what about this one? Where did we get the idea that beautiful people are jerks? Ok. Granted, some are. But some 'nomal' or even homely looking people (really, we're all beautiful, I'm just going with basic stereotypes here) are jerks too. So why is it that we are so easy and ready to judge the beautiful people who are snobs, who give us a dirty look, who walk all over us, who dump us? And less likely to judge the more earthy, normal, often more beautiful when you really get down to it, people who do the same?
I am a huge endorser of the thought that a personality can make you beautiful or ugly. The most beautiful person, to the eye, can have the ugliest soul. Where as the less attractive person, by the worlds standards, can have the most beautiful personality on the planet.
This huge rant kind of turned into something I wasn't planning. My main point, really, was that often when we feel judged by other people, it is often us, judging ourselves. Not them judging us.
I hope that all made sense... and we're all beautiful... :o)
Blessings and love
De
Eleanor Roosevelt, in her 1937 autobiography, This Is My Story, said "no one can make you feel inferior without your consent". A brilliant quote from a brilliant lady.
A chat with roommate yesterday sparked my brain into over drive. Often at work, I find that I feel slightly ashamed. I feel as if people need to know that I'm still studying, that I'm a musician, something, because a part of me feels embarrassed to be 25 and serving tea to lawyers. I sometimes feel judged by the people that I serve, and I feel as if I need to clarify that this is not my chosen career path, that I am aiming for bigger and better things.
But wait a second... those people aren't ACTUALLY judging me are they? Nope. They really aren't. So what is my problem? I am doing a double judgment. I am judging them, thinking that they are in turn judging me. Thinking that they are too high and mighty to see myself for who I truly am. But most of the time, this is not the case.
Roommate, who studied psychology, brought up a very interesting point yesterday in the midst of our discussion. You know those beautiful girls in high school that all of us regular or not so popular girls tend to hate? We don't allow them to have any sort of feeling. They aren't allowed to be happy or sad or upset or struggle with things... we view them as being perfect and judgmental. We assume that they judge our every move, even though it's usually us that are judging them. I think that this still happens in every day life.
A attractive young lady came into work the other day and as I was making my way over to serve her, I actually thought to myself, this lady is going to suck... and yet she was nice and funny and we laughed together over lame comments we BOTH made... and I thought to myself after... what is MY problem!?
Sometimes I think that we are programed by society in many ways. Obviously, we are all aware of some of these issues, but what about this one? Where did we get the idea that beautiful people are jerks? Ok. Granted, some are. But some 'nomal' or even homely looking people (really, we're all beautiful, I'm just going with basic stereotypes here) are jerks too. So why is it that we are so easy and ready to judge the beautiful people who are snobs, who give us a dirty look, who walk all over us, who dump us? And less likely to judge the more earthy, normal, often more beautiful when you really get down to it, people who do the same?
I am a huge endorser of the thought that a personality can make you beautiful or ugly. The most beautiful person, to the eye, can have the ugliest soul. Where as the less attractive person, by the worlds standards, can have the most beautiful personality on the planet.
This huge rant kind of turned into something I wasn't planning. My main point, really, was that often when we feel judged by other people, it is often us, judging ourselves. Not them judging us.
I hope that all made sense... and we're all beautiful... :o)
Blessings and love
De
Sunday, August 2, 2009
taylor the latte boy...
Last week I had a nice little treat. After being too exhausted to go out on Saturday night, but not wanting to be along (both of my roommate were gone), I called a dear friend who came over. We went to a local pub down the street for supper, grabbed a Starbucks, came home and cried over a movie. (Well... I cried...)
I will be the first to admit that I looked less than perfect. Frumpy... in my lulu lemons, sweatshirt, plaid hat to cover up my big hair that had air dried while I was talking to my fabulous best friend on the phone after my shower that afternoon and no make up... I looked pretty hot. :o)
We went to Starbucks and both my dear friend and I considered purchasing different portable vessels for our beverages. Her, a HUGE coffee made-from-recyclable-because-it's-fashionable traveling mug and me a red help-us-fight-Aids-Red-Campaign-because-all-of-the-famous-people-are-doing-it water jug. We loved both of them and at the time, bought neither. While we were looking, the guy behind the counter commented to us. When we ordered, they kept messing up our order, because we had kind of ordered at the same time. He put the drinks together, I said 'sorry, separate, is that ok? Sorry" and he said no worries and I laughed and mumbled something like 'you have the technology' and he laughed back. My friend handed me money, which I handed to him, and she went to pick up her drink. I went to pay for mine, and was mindlessly pulling out my debit card when he said 'you know, it's on me' and went to help the next customer. I stared at him from under my hat in disbelief and stuttered "but... but I have my plastic out!" he smiled sweetly and said 'it's ok. It’s on me. We have the technology' and he may have added in a wink there, or it could have just been my faulty memory, adding the wink just to make it more saucy. Either way, it made my night.
Well, last night, after an exhausting week for both of us, the tradition happened again. The pub for supper, Starbucks, and crying over a movie (Well... I cried...). We walked into Starbucks and my friend commented with glee that the guy was there. We were having trouble deciding. The guy asked me if he could help me decide. I answered that he probably couldn't. After coveting our water and coffee vessels (I love the word vessel) for a week, we decided to buy them. So we picked them up and made our way to the counter. It was busier that night. He asked me something about having a Starbucks card and yada yada... I barely heard it... apparently if you had one and registered it that day, your drink was free or... something? I'm not sure. Anyways, I said that yes I had one and that it was already registered. "Well... that's too bad..." he commented, ringing through my fabulous deep red look-at-me-I-support-the-Aids-Campaign new water bottle. Then he looks at me and says "...lets just pretend...' and doesn't charge me for the drink. My friend tries not to laugh. I, again, am looking less than beautiful, hat again, smudged make up I'm sure, lulu lemons, old faded pink shirt... and I glance at him and mumble thanks... and then say something along the lines of 'ummm... wow. Thanks. Do you realize that this is the second drink in a week you've given me for free?' "Really?" he says and shrugs. 'yeah so... thanks for making my day!' He doesn't charge my friend either, as he just rings in her new I-recycle-because-I'm-cool-and-really-enjoy-my-coffee-look-at-how-flipping-big-this-is coffee traveling mug. We go to pick up our drinks. The barista hands me my lactose-free-because-lactose-hates-me grande chocolate banana vivano (since when did Italy allow Starbucks to make up Italian sounding words?). I mumble something about having something slightly inappropriate to say to him, and he smiles and says that now I have to tell him. In my ridiculous cheesy voice, I say 'are YOU lactose free?' No clue why. Maybe I was just feeling a bit randy. Who knows. But he laughed and it was a decent moment. All in all... I got my second free drink in a week and I was honored.
I've begun referring to this as the 'nice face discount' (alla Seinfeld). But I realized today that this guy is Taylor the latte boy. Taylor the latte boy is a hilarious musical-esk song by 2 writers in New York. (whose names, unfortunately, I am unable to find and cannot remember. Evie? Help me out?) It is a hilarious song (my cat, Java, is named after this song).
I leave you with the lyrics... enjoy
There's a boy who works at Starbucks
Who is very inspirational.
He is very inspirational because of many things.
I come in at 8:11, and he smiles and says, "How are you?"
When he smiles and says, "How are you?"
I could swear my heart grows wings!
So today at 8:11
I decided I should meet him
I decided I should meet him
In a proper formal way.
So today at 8:11 when he smiled and said "How are you?"
I said "Fine, and my name’s Kristin"
And he softly answered, "Hey."
And I said "My name is Kristen, and thank you for the extra foam…"
And he said his name was Taylor,
Which provides the inspiration for this poem:
Taylor the latte boy,
Bring me java, bring me joy!
Oh Taylor the latte boy,
I love him, I love him, I love him…
So I’d like to get my nerve up
To recite my poem musical.
He would like the fact it’s musical
Because he plays guitar.
So today at 8:11, Taylor told me he was playing
In a band down in the village in the basement of a bar.
And he smoothly flipped the lever to prepare my double latte,
But for me he made it triple! And he didn’t think I knew
But I saw him flip the lever, and for me he made it triple,
And I knew that triple latte meant that Taylor loved me too!
I said, "What time are you playing? And thank you for the extra skim…"
He said, "Keep the $3.55," because this triple latte was on him.
Taylor the latte boy,
Bring me java, bring me joy!
Oh Taylor the latte boy,
I love him, I love him, I love him…
I used to be the kind of girl who'd run when love rushed toward her.
But finally a voice whispered "Love can be yours, if you step up to the counter, and order."
Taylor, the latte boy
Bring me java, bring me joy
Oh Taylor the latte boy
I love him, I love him, I love him.
So many years my heart has waited,
Who’d have thought that love could be so caffeinated?
Taylor, the latte boy,
I love him, I love him, I love him.
Blessings and love,
Deena
I will be the first to admit that I looked less than perfect. Frumpy... in my lulu lemons, sweatshirt, plaid hat to cover up my big hair that had air dried while I was talking to my fabulous best friend on the phone after my shower that afternoon and no make up... I looked pretty hot. :o)
We went to Starbucks and both my dear friend and I considered purchasing different portable vessels for our beverages. Her, a HUGE coffee made-from-recyclable-because-it's-fashionable traveling mug and me a red help-us-fight-Aids-Red-Campaign-because-all-of-the-famous-people-are-doing-it water jug. We loved both of them and at the time, bought neither. While we were looking, the guy behind the counter commented to us. When we ordered, they kept messing up our order, because we had kind of ordered at the same time. He put the drinks together, I said 'sorry, separate, is that ok? Sorry" and he said no worries and I laughed and mumbled something like 'you have the technology' and he laughed back. My friend handed me money, which I handed to him, and she went to pick up her drink. I went to pay for mine, and was mindlessly pulling out my debit card when he said 'you know, it's on me' and went to help the next customer. I stared at him from under my hat in disbelief and stuttered "but... but I have my plastic out!" he smiled sweetly and said 'it's ok. It’s on me. We have the technology' and he may have added in a wink there, or it could have just been my faulty memory, adding the wink just to make it more saucy. Either way, it made my night.
Well, last night, after an exhausting week for both of us, the tradition happened again. The pub for supper, Starbucks, and crying over a movie (Well... I cried...). We walked into Starbucks and my friend commented with glee that the guy was there. We were having trouble deciding. The guy asked me if he could help me decide. I answered that he probably couldn't. After coveting our water and coffee vessels (I love the word vessel) for a week, we decided to buy them. So we picked them up and made our way to the counter. It was busier that night. He asked me something about having a Starbucks card and yada yada... I barely heard it... apparently if you had one and registered it that day, your drink was free or... something? I'm not sure. Anyways, I said that yes I had one and that it was already registered. "Well... that's too bad..." he commented, ringing through my fabulous deep red look-at-me-I-support-the-Aids-Campaign new water bottle. Then he looks at me and says "...lets just pretend...' and doesn't charge me for the drink. My friend tries not to laugh. I, again, am looking less than beautiful, hat again, smudged make up I'm sure, lulu lemons, old faded pink shirt... and I glance at him and mumble thanks... and then say something along the lines of 'ummm... wow. Thanks. Do you realize that this is the second drink in a week you've given me for free?' "Really?" he says and shrugs. 'yeah so... thanks for making my day!' He doesn't charge my friend either, as he just rings in her new I-recycle-because-I'm-cool-and-really-enjoy-my-coffee-look-at-how-flipping-big-this-is coffee traveling mug. We go to pick up our drinks. The barista hands me my lactose-free-because-lactose-hates-me grande chocolate banana vivano (since when did Italy allow Starbucks to make up Italian sounding words?). I mumble something about having something slightly inappropriate to say to him, and he smiles and says that now I have to tell him. In my ridiculous cheesy voice, I say 'are YOU lactose free?' No clue why. Maybe I was just feeling a bit randy. Who knows. But he laughed and it was a decent moment. All in all... I got my second free drink in a week and I was honored.
I've begun referring to this as the 'nice face discount' (alla Seinfeld). But I realized today that this guy is Taylor the latte boy. Taylor the latte boy is a hilarious musical-esk song by 2 writers in New York. (whose names, unfortunately, I am unable to find and cannot remember. Evie? Help me out?) It is a hilarious song (my cat, Java, is named after this song).
I leave you with the lyrics... enjoy
There's a boy who works at Starbucks
Who is very inspirational.
He is very inspirational because of many things.
I come in at 8:11, and he smiles and says, "How are you?"
When he smiles and says, "How are you?"
I could swear my heart grows wings!
So today at 8:11
I decided I should meet him
I decided I should meet him
In a proper formal way.
So today at 8:11 when he smiled and said "How are you?"
I said "Fine, and my name’s Kristin"
And he softly answered, "Hey."
And I said "My name is Kristen, and thank you for the extra foam…"
And he said his name was Taylor,
Which provides the inspiration for this poem:
Taylor the latte boy,
Bring me java, bring me joy!
Oh Taylor the latte boy,
I love him, I love him, I love him…
So I’d like to get my nerve up
To recite my poem musical.
He would like the fact it’s musical
Because he plays guitar.
So today at 8:11, Taylor told me he was playing
In a band down in the village in the basement of a bar.
And he smoothly flipped the lever to prepare my double latte,
But for me he made it triple! And he didn’t think I knew
But I saw him flip the lever, and for me he made it triple,
And I knew that triple latte meant that Taylor loved me too!
I said, "What time are you playing? And thank you for the extra skim…"
He said, "Keep the $3.55," because this triple latte was on him.
Taylor the latte boy,
Bring me java, bring me joy!
Oh Taylor the latte boy,
I love him, I love him, I love him…
I used to be the kind of girl who'd run when love rushed toward her.
But finally a voice whispered "Love can be yours, if you step up to the counter, and order."
Taylor, the latte boy
Bring me java, bring me joy
Oh Taylor the latte boy
I love him, I love him, I love him.
So many years my heart has waited,
Who’d have thought that love could be so caffeinated?
Taylor, the latte boy,
I love him, I love him, I love him.
Blessings and love,
Deena
Saturday, August 1, 2009
the wrong man...
So here's an interesting scenario.
In order to get to the aforementioned bathroom at work, we go through a small corridor and it's not a big deal. Unless it is after 5 pm. After 5, we have to walk around, make a few turns, past the mail room, down another corridor until we finally are greeted with our prize: the bathroom with many stalls and the unbelievably small passageway (that always smells strangely of potpourri). But this has already been discussed.
Every so often, in the past 6 months or so, a decently handsome, slightly darker man has stopped me, looked me straight in the eye and told me that he thinks that I am beautiful and then wishes me a nice day. Well, ladies, I am not attracted to this individual, but that does not stop my heart from racing a little bit (I'm sure you know what I mean). This happened a few times until one fateful day, he stopped me, introduced himself and asked me if he could take me out sometime. I was taken back and really had to use the bathroom (i really dislike going to the bathroom. I sometimes think it's a big waste of time... so I usually wait until I have no other choice and then book it there. Healthy, I know). So I mumbled something about being in the beginning stages of something with someone (which I had assumed that I was) and hurried off. Well, nothing actually came to fruition with the guy that I told the white lie about. But I did not bother to correct myself. When I told this to the man, I had believed it to be true. He, in turn, backed off a little bit, but still would stop me and wave at me when he walked past my store. He bowed once (weird) and would stand and the doorway and yell at me (when I was at the other side of the store) to see how I was. Harmless. Kind of weird. Made for a good story. I dealt with it.
Then Thursday happened. Thursday, I was rushing to the bathroom as usual. It was almost closing time, so I was hurrying to help close up shop. I turned the corner and thought I was home free, when he came out of a different door and caught me completely off guard. He was pleasantly surprised to see me (as I grimaced to myself) and asked me how I was and if I was still 'married'. I laughed and mumbled something about how things were rocky (with a different guy now...) but whatever... and he was extremely happy about this. I made my quick get away, hoping not to see him on my way back. I came around the corner and surprise, surprise, he is standing there, seemingly waiting for me. We mumble something to each other and he comes in for a hug. Before and after the hug that I felt trapped into, which lasted way too long to be comfortable, he kissed my cheek. AWKWARD. I scurried off while he laughed at me and comment on the fact that I walk too fast. "This is how fast I walk" I smugly shot back at him. Thankfully I was able to avoid him on Friday.
So here is my question. Why is it that the ONE guy that pursues us is never the guy that we want? There is a guy in my life that I very much adore. But I have backed off a bit and now we barely talk. Nothing. And I think to myself... did I initiate the conversation before? Every time? Was it me that was keeping this 'thing' going? Call me old fashioned, but I need to be pursued. Due largely, I think, to low self-esteem, I need a guy to pursue me in order to even believe that he likes me (which I will have a difficult time believing either way, but it will be less difficult if he pursues). Why can't this man, who has said that he is into me, find the time to drop me a quick note? Call me without me dropping the hint that I would like him to? Take initiative for SOMETHING? But no. It won't happen. So I let it go. He's busy, I tell myself. Of course that's what it is. He's busy, he's going back to school, he's moving. Yeah. Ok. So? Then I look at my life. How incredibly busy I am. School, work, practice, music, rehearsals, planning a recital, trying to find time to write a book... all while dealing with fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, insomnia, and lets face it, a very mild eating disorder of sorts. Ok... so I guess I'm busy too. Yet I made time to get in touch... I was even planning on visiting...
Why is it that the one guy we want to pursue us just doesn't get it? Why does this other guy, who I have all but pushed away, keep coming back for more? Why is he insatiable for me? And why can't this other guy feel the same? It just doesn't seem fair.
But this makes me wonder one or two things... 1. is something wrong with me? This is an issue we won't address, because the answer is too simple and obvious. Yes :o) 2. Is it that we, women, are too fickle? Do we keep waiting for Mr. Right, and will he ever come along? Sometimes I feel like I'm afraid of settling for someone who's great to me... he's great, sure, but is he great enough!? Why in the world are we so fickle? Maybe it's unfair to lump all of us into the same group. Why am I so fickle?! Why do I desire the one guy that I seem to not be able to have, when this perfectly nice gentleman comes a-knocking and pursuing and I know that he would treat me right?
I don't have the greatest self-esteem. Yet I seem to be convinced that the RIGHT guy is out there. Yet what if I am too caught up in myself to see him? What if I miss him?
As a Christian, I feel kind of hypocritical asking these questions... Deep down, I do believe that God has someone for me and that He will, eventually, bring us together. Yet these fears... these doubts... have a way of seeping in. Unfortunately, I have a difficult time getting them to stop. Pray for me?
Blessings and love,
Deena
In order to get to the aforementioned bathroom at work, we go through a small corridor and it's not a big deal. Unless it is after 5 pm. After 5, we have to walk around, make a few turns, past the mail room, down another corridor until we finally are greeted with our prize: the bathroom with many stalls and the unbelievably small passageway (that always smells strangely of potpourri). But this has already been discussed.
Every so often, in the past 6 months or so, a decently handsome, slightly darker man has stopped me, looked me straight in the eye and told me that he thinks that I am beautiful and then wishes me a nice day. Well, ladies, I am not attracted to this individual, but that does not stop my heart from racing a little bit (I'm sure you know what I mean). This happened a few times until one fateful day, he stopped me, introduced himself and asked me if he could take me out sometime. I was taken back and really had to use the bathroom (i really dislike going to the bathroom. I sometimes think it's a big waste of time... so I usually wait until I have no other choice and then book it there. Healthy, I know). So I mumbled something about being in the beginning stages of something with someone (which I had assumed that I was) and hurried off. Well, nothing actually came to fruition with the guy that I told the white lie about. But I did not bother to correct myself. When I told this to the man, I had believed it to be true. He, in turn, backed off a little bit, but still would stop me and wave at me when he walked past my store. He bowed once (weird) and would stand and the doorway and yell at me (when I was at the other side of the store) to see how I was. Harmless. Kind of weird. Made for a good story. I dealt with it.
Then Thursday happened. Thursday, I was rushing to the bathroom as usual. It was almost closing time, so I was hurrying to help close up shop. I turned the corner and thought I was home free, when he came out of a different door and caught me completely off guard. He was pleasantly surprised to see me (as I grimaced to myself) and asked me how I was and if I was still 'married'. I laughed and mumbled something about how things were rocky (with a different guy now...) but whatever... and he was extremely happy about this. I made my quick get away, hoping not to see him on my way back. I came around the corner and surprise, surprise, he is standing there, seemingly waiting for me. We mumble something to each other and he comes in for a hug. Before and after the hug that I felt trapped into, which lasted way too long to be comfortable, he kissed my cheek. AWKWARD. I scurried off while he laughed at me and comment on the fact that I walk too fast. "This is how fast I walk" I smugly shot back at him. Thankfully I was able to avoid him on Friday.
So here is my question. Why is it that the ONE guy that pursues us is never the guy that we want? There is a guy in my life that I very much adore. But I have backed off a bit and now we barely talk. Nothing. And I think to myself... did I initiate the conversation before? Every time? Was it me that was keeping this 'thing' going? Call me old fashioned, but I need to be pursued. Due largely, I think, to low self-esteem, I need a guy to pursue me in order to even believe that he likes me (which I will have a difficult time believing either way, but it will be less difficult if he pursues). Why can't this man, who has said that he is into me, find the time to drop me a quick note? Call me without me dropping the hint that I would like him to? Take initiative for SOMETHING? But no. It won't happen. So I let it go. He's busy, I tell myself. Of course that's what it is. He's busy, he's going back to school, he's moving. Yeah. Ok. So? Then I look at my life. How incredibly busy I am. School, work, practice, music, rehearsals, planning a recital, trying to find time to write a book... all while dealing with fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, insomnia, and lets face it, a very mild eating disorder of sorts. Ok... so I guess I'm busy too. Yet I made time to get in touch... I was even planning on visiting...
Why is it that the one guy we want to pursue us just doesn't get it? Why does this other guy, who I have all but pushed away, keep coming back for more? Why is he insatiable for me? And why can't this other guy feel the same? It just doesn't seem fair.
But this makes me wonder one or two things... 1. is something wrong with me? This is an issue we won't address, because the answer is too simple and obvious. Yes :o) 2. Is it that we, women, are too fickle? Do we keep waiting for Mr. Right, and will he ever come along? Sometimes I feel like I'm afraid of settling for someone who's great to me... he's great, sure, but is he great enough!? Why in the world are we so fickle? Maybe it's unfair to lump all of us into the same group. Why am I so fickle?! Why do I desire the one guy that I seem to not be able to have, when this perfectly nice gentleman comes a-knocking and pursuing and I know that he would treat me right?
I don't have the greatest self-esteem. Yet I seem to be convinced that the RIGHT guy is out there. Yet what if I am too caught up in myself to see him? What if I miss him?
As a Christian, I feel kind of hypocritical asking these questions... Deep down, I do believe that God has someone for me and that He will, eventually, bring us together. Yet these fears... these doubts... have a way of seeping in. Unfortunately, I have a difficult time getting them to stop. Pray for me?
Blessings and love,
Deena
Sorry
The bathrooms in the corridor where I work are kind of ridiculous. There are a good number of stalls which are never full. To get to these stalls is a long hall, which is not a problem, but then you turn a corner and bam. There is a good 15 foot stretch where two people cannot pass comfortably. The number of times I have had to duck into a little nook to let other people pass by is not countable. Yesterday I encountered this situation with a lady. As usual, I ducked out of the way, but as she passed by on her way out, she apologized.
Why did she apologize? Why did the word 'sorry' slip from her lips? She wasn't the genius that designed this small space. I heard somewhere that Canadians are among the most polite countries in the world. A lot of my American friends would make fun of the fact that we were always apologizing for everything. As I think about it, I realize just how ridiculous it is. Only in Canada, so the joke goes, will someone apologize to the person who bumped into them. It is ridiculous but true.
At work this happens all the time. There are four of us, working in a small space to serve our customers well. We run into each other and bump each other all the time. I say sorry to my co-workers dozens of times a day. There used to be someone from the company who would come and check on us, organize a few things, etc. He would be with us, behind the counter, and would bump into us, brush past us, etc. And you know... he never once apologized. And it royally ticked us off.
We are programed to be polite to each other. Where did this come from? No idea. But everywhere I go, if someone bumps into me, I will apologize... As if it were my fault for being in their way and they were not in the wrong at all.
What does this do to us psychologically? It seems to be such a small thing, but I am beginning to think that these little apologies, though polite for sure, are slowly chipping away at our secure mental being. Though I will always apologize at work for nudging someone, is there really a reason for me to apologize to my voice teacher for singing something less than perfect? No.
This used to drive one of my voice teachers crazy. He was always telling me to stop saying I'm sorry. In that environment, in that room, I was supposed to make mistakes. He was supposed to fix them. And this is exactly what happened, but every time I would make that mistake, that fateful word, 'sorry' would slip out of my mouth.
When we apologize for no reason, I think it ends up being demeaning to ourselves. It is like we are putting ourselves down without realizing it. Slowly building up an insecure wall, without meaning to and without realizing it.
We need to be more positive. None of this negative speech. 'Sorry', when used in the proper context, when you are ACTUALLY in the wrong, is appropriate. But lets think about it a little bit... and use it a little bit less... because most of the time when you say it, I bet you anything that you are not, in fact, in the wrong.
Blessings and love
De
Why did she apologize? Why did the word 'sorry' slip from her lips? She wasn't the genius that designed this small space. I heard somewhere that Canadians are among the most polite countries in the world. A lot of my American friends would make fun of the fact that we were always apologizing for everything. As I think about it, I realize just how ridiculous it is. Only in Canada, so the joke goes, will someone apologize to the person who bumped into them. It is ridiculous but true.
At work this happens all the time. There are four of us, working in a small space to serve our customers well. We run into each other and bump each other all the time. I say sorry to my co-workers dozens of times a day. There used to be someone from the company who would come and check on us, organize a few things, etc. He would be with us, behind the counter, and would bump into us, brush past us, etc. And you know... he never once apologized. And it royally ticked us off.
We are programed to be polite to each other. Where did this come from? No idea. But everywhere I go, if someone bumps into me, I will apologize... As if it were my fault for being in their way and they were not in the wrong at all.
What does this do to us psychologically? It seems to be such a small thing, but I am beginning to think that these little apologies, though polite for sure, are slowly chipping away at our secure mental being. Though I will always apologize at work for nudging someone, is there really a reason for me to apologize to my voice teacher for singing something less than perfect? No.
This used to drive one of my voice teachers crazy. He was always telling me to stop saying I'm sorry. In that environment, in that room, I was supposed to make mistakes. He was supposed to fix them. And this is exactly what happened, but every time I would make that mistake, that fateful word, 'sorry' would slip out of my mouth.
When we apologize for no reason, I think it ends up being demeaning to ourselves. It is like we are putting ourselves down without realizing it. Slowly building up an insecure wall, without meaning to and without realizing it.
We need to be more positive. None of this negative speech. 'Sorry', when used in the proper context, when you are ACTUALLY in the wrong, is appropriate. But lets think about it a little bit... and use it a little bit less... because most of the time when you say it, I bet you anything that you are not, in fact, in the wrong.
Blessings and love
De
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