Put your boobs away

Feminismradicalnotion-1Why does it seem like self-esteem for humans is at an all time low? Why is the media focus on sex and sexulizing of women and girls? Why are more women around me subservient to their men? What the hell has happened and why am I the only one who is sadden by it? Okay, I know I am not the only one, but for every 1 friend who is outraged, there are 5 more who are showing their boobs off on Facebook, sexting with men who are not their husbands and generally sell sex to be noticed and wanted.

So what I am talking about?

Women’s role in this world… and by role I do not mean subservient.

I am gobsmacked by some of the things around me.

I am watching the Jian Ghomesi circus like a train wreck gone really bad. I cannot keep my eyes off it. Likely more than most women I know, I really understand why women didn’t come forward or tell the police. What’s the point? Unless there video proof…and then there better be a man to corroborate the story, Women/Victims are just not believed. I wasn’t. I told a few people, and I was accused of exaggerating because he was ‘so nice’.

yeah… about that. He wasn’t who he said he was. He LIED. Shocking, but people who are shifty LIE. Good girls keep their mouth shut and smile, don’t do anything that may upset ‘your Man’.  This was advice from my Grandmother, she was a quintessential 50’s house wife. She also was abused but said nothing – her’s wasn’t physical as far as I could tell, just emotional – which I think is worse. Cuts and bruises heal. Emotional trauma doesn’t.

Then I read an article from the Huff on how to have more sex with your wife…. are you ready for this? Clean up Cat Puke and text her.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

If the cat pukes and you walk over it to let me clean it up…you are a dead man.

If you clean it up and text me hoping for sex, I am going to tell you right now

  1. Cat puke is not sexy
  2. Cleaning is not sexy
  3. It’s your house too, so clean up
  4. Expecting sex for a task/job/money is prostitution

There is nothing sexy about being a prostitute. Whoever wrote that article also suggested that Texting your gal that you are going to buy breakfast so sleep in will get you sex…let me explain something to you

  1. You just woke her up to tell her you are going out. You wake me up and you are a dead man
  2. Surprises are not something you let her know in advanced. IT’s not a surprise then.
  3. It’s breakfast… you can’t cook? You can’t make coffee because its usually her job?
  4. Expecting sex for task/job/money is prostitution

Again, there is nothing sexy about being a prostitute. Well…some people role play and that’s a different blog.

Lately there is a trend happening with the whole ‘sexy whore’ thing. Halloween has come and gone and I saw WAY MORE Not-A-Commodity-feminism-23195990-400-600boobs and belly buttons than I care to admit. My niece let me know that an adult female costume could not be found without sexy connotations that go with it. This was true for even for children’s costumes. There is nothing more disgusting than a 5 year old girl in a mini skirt and belly shirt. First off, DON’T BUY IT. Don’t support these insane notions that sexulizing females and female children is appropriate. Why can’t we all just like each other for our interests and smarts and humour and kindness and ideas. Why is it not common to aspire to be smart, innovative or creative. Why must we be looked at as objects?

You want to have more sex? Tell the women you are with how smart she is. Listen to what she has to say. Respect her opinion. Ask her how she feels, ask about her needs, wants and desires.

Then tell her how you feel, what your needs, wants and desires are because THAT is sexy and no tasks/jobs/money exchange hands.

One day the looks wear off and all you are left with is everything underneath. Let’s hope it is support, kindness, interesting and innovative. Sounds a lot like friendship.

Now that is something you were never told to look for in a mate.

If you did, you win.IMG_7998

Secrets

In between my crazy busy life, I take time to read. I have challenged myself to read books and genres that frightened me before. I am not talking about horror type books, because those have never been on my radar, but books that touch on mental health issues. I always have been the sensitive type that could pick up on others emotions or feelings and assimilate them into my own consciousness. Trust me, I don’t recommend this technique for developing empathy, yet here was me being able to understand a too deep of a level.

I just finished reading Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult and Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn. Mental Health is at the root of these books trying to explain why people’s action result in unspeakable crimes. The sad part is, I can understand why these events occur. For me it is like sitting up high in the rafters of a hockey game. From that vantage point you can see the play develop in the back-end, speed through the center ice with skill and finish in the other end with finesse. It all makes sense, it unfolds in a seemingly logical way.

What these types of books have done for me – other than give me nightmares about serial killers, is have me walk around and just look at people. Wondering what their secret is and why it makes them behave in such away. Some people wear their secret on their arm as if they cut it into their flesh like Camille did in Sharp Objects, Rape, Slapped, Molested, Ignored, Unloved, Stolen, Bullied, Abused, Hated. Their secret becomes who they are and effects every facit of their life. Others simply ignore their secret and over compensate for things with, I am not my Father, If I love you enough you will love me back, This happened to me so you should have it happen to you because it’s fair.

One some level it is comforting to know that there is someone out there who understands on some level my secret or your secret. It becomes part of our need to belong or feel apart of a group. I sometimes sit in my secret place and think about my secret and how I could use it to change my life. Would it help? Would it damage? We all have some secret we either share or guard close to us. Perhaps it is why Frank Warren’s Blog PostSecret has had  586,318,599 visits in 7 years. He started an art project that invited people to anonymously send him a postcard with their secret on it. Millions of people did. I have read secrets that could have been mine, secrets that could have belonged to my love and secrets that could belong to you. We will never know who the belonged to because they are secrets, but it is nice to know we aren’t alone.

Here is a PostCard from Sunday’s PostSecret blog. I found this to be particularly sad and can think of someone in my life who might belong to this secret.

whoeverlovedthatlovednotatfirstsight

The flip side of this postcard read:

Love never dies they & I am living proof of that having been married for 50 years I am in love with someone else I can’t have. Love never dies!

Here is Frank Warren’s PostSecret Project

Greatness

"Greatness"
“Greatness” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have been feeling frustrated and caged as of late. I am finding patience as I learn to do less while recovering from a respitory ailment. The lack of Oxygen has been an issue creating barrier. From loading the dishwasher to walking up stairs, breathing is difficult. Then there is the is factor of the summer is half over. I have been in the mist of enjoying 64 Days of Awesome and trying something fun every day. I have 32 days left. Not one part of my summer has gone as planned. Funny how that works out. Making plans and then you are thrown a curveball.

I have been sitting anxiously waiting for my phone to ring and all I hear is crickets… It is enough to suck me back into the dark vortex of depression again. Can’t let that happen. I do believe there is a reason for everything, I just need to let it happen as it may, I’ve done all the work I can. Now I wait and see and keep moving forward with life.

This morning feels like a day I had a very long time ago. My parents left for vacation without me. They went to Jamaica and left me with my Grandma. That summer was hot during the day and raining at night. The air was cool in the morning while we ate breakfast on the patio. My Grandpa engaged me in a conversation about career choices. He said “Robbie, you’re a smart kiddo. Pick something that will use your brains every day so you don’t have to work hard.”

I now understand that he meant physical labour. But as I reflect on what he said, I know there was more to it than those simple words. The trick is finding what you are meant to do, then attacking it with vigor using the brains I was blessed with. It becomes a mental game. Just like last summer when I completed my first half marathon. It was 90% mental and 10% muscle memory. I trained hard, my body knew what to do. If I let the focus of the goal lose power, I wouldn’t have had a hope in finishing. I used my brains to see me through to the finish. The mental power of tenacity and determination. I suspect I will need that mental toughness to get me through another year until I complete my degree. I am nearly there and want to kick it up a notch to complete the task sooner than expected. It has become obvious to me that to advance forward, I need that paper. It’s not just the paper the degree is written on. Apparently I could buy one for $500, according to DGreezRus. That does not teach me about struggle, elevating the level of my performance and facing fear.

I need to find the something people are looking for when filling a position that is entirely foreign to my work experience. Changing a career path halfway through your life is difficult. It is like looking at the brass ring that is just slightly out of reach as you spin round on the merry-go-round. I know I can do it. I know I will be great at it. I know I need to find the person who is willing to give me a chance. I promise I will not disappoint.

It is unfortunate society demands children decide their own career fate. I had no idea at the age of 18 what I wanted to be. I heard people telling me what I should do and what I would be good at. It never really was my passion. 27 years later, I think I have found my passion. It includes writing, planning, communicating and forward thinking. It requires reflection of self and job. It requires structure and deadlines, stress and laughter. It requires me to think before I act and not drift through on autopilot because it is simple and mundane.

Until that moment, I will strive to make it happen and have my everyday become what I envision. I will have my days filled with my passion so I can conquer the mundane.

And talk to Jude Law about narrating my life along the way…

Unconditional

The moment you figure it out is life changing.

Seeing yourself in your friends is normal, safe, comforting.

The moment you recognize your old pain in your friend, is heartbreaking.

Seeing yourself helpless as they struggle is torture.

The moment you realize they are about to figure it out is illuminating.

Seeing yourself cheering from the sidelines is restraining.

The moment you realize they need to struggle alone brings sorrow.

Seeing them reach out to you for help is healing.

 

I will wait for you to reach out. I will help pick up the pieces. I love you without conditions. Love yourself the same.

Learning to run because I can walk – on the Wild side

Perhaps by now I’d come far enough that I had enough guts to be afraid.

~ Cheryl Strayed

I just finished Wild by Cheryl Strayed. That girl now as it figured it out. Mo does too. Intellectually I do too.
Wild by Cheryl Strayed

I have been at this journey for well over a year. Last year it was about setting goals that were insane for me, achieving them and celebrating them. I then fell into a goal setter let down…

I couldn’t find my focus. I was tired. Not so much physically, but mentally. I let go of some serious things, serious people, toxic things and toxic people. Where does that leave me to date?

I smiled spontaneously this week for the first time in I have no idea how long. I smile a lot. I have the wrinkles and laugh lines to prove it. Smiling because you feel JOY is a whole other smile. It comes from a place of peace.

I found it. I have no idea how long it will last but I am enjoying the ride while I am on it.

Because I felt JOY, I was able to sit down and make some goals that had to do with wants. This is different than last year. Last years goals were about proving myself to people. I finally figured out that I don’t need to prove myself to others, I really needed to prove myself to me.

Things I have learned;

I am smart.

I am strong physically and mentally. I am almost strong emotionally. Baby steps.

I like me. I like spending time alone with me.

I have skills that can save my life in the wilderness, in an urban environment and in a recreation environment. How many people can say that?In an effort to find myself I tried a billion different activities and have weeded out the ones that I do not enjoy. If it is for pleasure, then do pleasurable things.

The quote at the top has deep meaning for me. I now have a healthy fear of life. I respect it. I know how to proceed with caution and not reckless abandon. This is a huge growth for me. I walked a half marathon thinking, pfffff I can do that easy. It was not easy. It was 99% mental and 1% physical. I could have and likely SHOULD have done things differently. Being the smart girl I am, I have taken what I have learned, and am applying it to my next set of goals.

In October 2010, I was in Germany. I was walking back from the camp showers late at night to the caravan. It was dark and damp. I slipped on some muddy grass and tore my MCL on my left leg. I saw stars, I howled, I cried and I needed help getting into the caravan. I hit rock bottom physically. Mentally that was about to happen much later…

My Doctor encouraged me to walk and he is the type of guy who doesn’t want to tell someone not to exercise. I was just suppose to listen to my knee and not push it. What the hell does that mean? I walked the Half a year later, I swam 1.5 hours 4 times a week and walked 40k a week….that was a lot. My knee hated me but I told it to feck off.

I started training for the Calgary half in January. my knee hated me more than anyone could possibly appreciate. I was stronger than ever. My heart and lungs could take me to new heights and I could walk fast enough to pass runners on the track. Once I hit 45 minutes, my knee said…that is IT, I HATE you and I quit.

And it did.

I had to stop walking, swimming and strenuous yoga. I felt soft and gooey. Gross…

When I went back to my Doc and walked up 3 flights of stairs without my knee weeping, I figured I could swim again. So I did. This time I took it easy. I swam 30 minutes for my short swims and 45 for my long. I was faster than before. I couldn’t belive it. I felt strong, healthy and focused.

I still felt squishy. I knew I needed weight baring exercise. I want to run like a gazelle. I see and hear stories of men who were fat and chunky running and then they became these fit Adonis’. Why can’t I do that? Truthfully, there is no reason why I cannot.

I started reading John Stanton. He is a local hero who was a chubby guy, started running then became the go to guy in Edmonton for all things running. He branched out. He is now the go to guy in Canada and owns a string of Running Room stores. I figured this guy knew what he was talking about.

This is what I know. I HATE LEARN TO RUN CLASSES. When I have a goal I turn inward. I prefer the silence and solitude to pull me through. I have an inner drive and focus that will amaze the strongest man. I get this from my dad. When I swim I use this focus. This is why I can swim for 1 1/2 hours. I only stop because I am hungry and have no energy left. Mentally I could go for days.

I did some research and discovered that I should start my learn to run classes at a 3Km. Running for 20 minutes non stop. I don’t want to be surrounded by people when I do this. Perhaps it is because I talk for a living – but I don’t want to chit chat when I run, walk or swim. I just want to go. It feels like flying when I am alone in my head.

Saturday I did my first session alone at Wildrose Park. I ran 1 minute and walked 2 minutes x6. This took me 19 minutes. I went a distance of 2.07km. My heart and lungs laughed their heads off. It was easy for me. It was EASY for me. The fat girl RAN and it was EASY. I can walk 26km.

When I got home what struck me as I walked in the house was, wow it feels good to not be so tired I want to sleep. I felt energized.

I need to repeat 1 and 2s for the rest of the week. Stanton says to do it every other day. Awesome, that is easy enough to do. I did yoga today. Tomorrow I will run 1 and 2 for a total of 19 minutes. I will then swim after work for 30 minutes. I swim to de-stress and to change eating habits of eating while stressed out. Here is my challenge for the week…

It is no secret that I am a night owl. Mornings are for the birds and the sunrise. To get my runs in this week, I will need to run in the morning before work. Holy Hell that sucks the big one.

That will be the challenge. Not the running, not the swimming – but running in the MORNING for crying out loud. I will do it. Laying out my clothes tonight will help motivate me. I can do this because this is the MENTAL challenge. I kick-ass at mental challenges. Morning run? I accept that challenge!

Besides it has me excited. I am anxious to run 3k without stopping.

I plan on doing that for my birthday. Happy birthday to me on Dead Elvis Day! August 16 incase you want to come cheer me on at Wild Rose park.

Goal #2 5k in the same fashion. I will start at the beginning and work every week until I can run 5km with out stopping. I plan to have that goal achieved by October. Then I will be a 5 k runner and do the Santa shuffle in December, run at the indoor track and perhaps outside if I can figure out the not falling on ice part.

Goal #3 will be to run the Canada Day 10Km.

Goal #4 will be the Donald Half in WDW. I want that medal so bad I can taste it. I will run the 5 k fun the day before.

Doing this slow to re-build the muscles around my knee will be the key. It is hard not to skip to the end. But that is the goal – slow and steady.

I completely get Cheryl Strayed. Her journey made perfect sense to me because in many ways it is my journey. One step in front of the other. I can’t jump ahead to the end and neither did she.

Wake up call at 6:00AM – good grief… I’ve got this.

Why do I go to work everyday?

I hate my job.

It is only Wednesday and I have more emotional overload in 2 days than most people have in a lifetime. The stuff I dealt with today alone would make well adjusted grown men cry.

Last year I hated my job too. Last year I suffered from mental stress. This year is emotional stress. What is the difference you ask?

Mental stress keeps you thinking until your brain is numb. It has you repeating yourself endlessly like a broken record to no avail. It makes you sleep for ever.

Emotional stress keeps you awake at night worrying that little ones are okay. You fear for their health and safety. You try to plan a way to keep them with you so they are safe. Your heart gets broken on a daily basis. You cry in the bath tub and in the car on the way to work. You get angry and smash your head against the wall because you think you are crazy.

I sat in the chair tonight and my daughter said, If you hate your job so much, why do you do it?

Me – Sometimes you do a job because the little souls need someone to care and love them so they won’t be alone in the world. But I did see a job posting for Assistant Manager at Dollarama and thought about it seriously for 2 seconds.

I was at my Life Coach’s office today after work. We talked about emotional intelligence. Over a year ago I wrote about wanting to be emotionally intelligent. I have achieved that goal. I wish I never did. That is not true, I wish I was surrounded by emotional intelligences. I am to some degree – no offence friends and family! – but I am also surrounded by emotional sluts. You know the kind, connect to the one you are with rather than who is right for you.

It is no secret I connect better with children than I do adults. I see it, feel it and experience it on a daily basis. Ask Liam. He is a stranger kid I met on the playground the other day. It was obvious to me that he had some special needs. Talking to him briefly I could tell he had sensory processing disorder, a cognitive delay and fluency issues. I walked past him to sit on the bench, smiled and made EYE CONTACT. He smiled back.

I forget how the exchange started but within 5 minutes I had connected with him so well, he thought I use to be his teacher and kept saying “Remember when…” I would play along because A) everyone wants to feel like someone remembers them because that means they are IMPORTANT enough to be REMEMBERED and B) none of his peers would engage him in conversation, he was a loner or more to the point, lonely.

I see him occasionally now around the school and fields and he always waves. I have made a new connection, for life I suppose if I continue to keep running into him. I can connect with every child in my classroom. Some stronger than others, but all of them just the same. Every single one of them knows they are important to me and I care. I cannot say the same for the adults in my life.

Part of it is my fault. I do not connect with adults because I protect myself. I am sick to death of being hurt. Apparently this has to do with me not forgiving myself for something in a particular relationship. Fair enough, I can see that. I connect very strongly with emotional sluts. Then they break my heart. It is a pattern I repeat because I need to feel punished. Isn’t THAT interesting? Emotional sluts, I recognize them at 50 paces. I connect with them. Have them need me. Then I need them, and because they are emotional sluts – I get left. It sucks. I pick them KNOWING it won’t last, yet I engage in the emotional exchange. I haven’t done this in a long while. I recognize it for what it is and keep a distance. That sad part is, I am still connected to those emotional sluts of my past and feel loss. They are no longer connected to me, they have moved along to the next one.

My next goal is to connect with adults who are emotionally intelligent. I know who you are, you are well adjusted, stable, goal oriented and do not rely on others to boost you into the next realm. I have quite a few of you in my life, you have just kept me at arms length while I figure this out. You are smart enough not to get caught up in the drama of an emotional slut.

Oh Edmonton Tourist, you are such a different person then you were August 15th, 2010 when you started this journey. We are getting there one step at a time.

Death by Sushi

Eye death
Eye death (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

There have been two times in my life when I welcomed death and she snubbed me.

The first time was I was in labor with my first born. I don’t recall my surroundings other than bells were going off and a ton of people suddenly appeared. I feel into my pillow and thought to myself – I’m okay with dying. Then I looked over at my husband and he was worried. Then I thought, oh hell – I can’t very well leave him alone at a time like this.

I pulled through.

The second time was yesterday. I had sushi for lunch. within 10 minutes I was sick, within two hours my joints were swollen, my breathing was comprimised and I was covered in hives. I was in so much pain I thought, I’m okay with dying.

I am no a wimp when it comes to pain and sickness. I go to work with pnemonia, I walked 7km on a broken foot, I have even had a hangnail and survived. I was totally cool with dying. This poisoning business has taken a lot out of me. I am exhausted and afraid to eat. The not eating part is good and bad. I hope to lose a gazillion pounds because of this, but I know I will never get my strength back unless I do. Fresh food has me a bit scared.

All I want is peanut butter toast. I did live on that in high school. I was a non eater in those days. Give me a snickers bar and a glass bottle of coke and I was set for days. I would pack a peanut butter sandwich and an apple. It is still one of my favorite lunches. The best part was, I didn’t starve to death. I am pretty sure I am not starving to death now. I am super dehydrated and very sleepy. I spent my day drinking water and sleeping. I watched a movie and slept some more.

What this experience has done for me was reflect on who is important to me. I contacted everyone who I thought should know. ChatterBox even came in my room to creep on me to see if I was still breathing. I had no idea. I was out. Thinking about the list of people may me think about my small circle and how important they are to me. I also realized I am not all that important in the grand scheme of things. Life will continue whether I am here or not. The thing is, I would be so ticked off if I had expired yesterday. I still have goals to meet.

I was goofing around with some cards I have and chose a single card to meditate on. I use these cards for focus during my yoga practice or quiet contemplation. Usually a card that pops up is about creativity or joy. The message is often about seeking a creative outlet for expression of self or it is telling me not to take on too much and slow down to enjoy the view. Yesterdays card was one that has never shown itself to me. The card is Victory. The message’s essence was whatever you have been working on will succeed. I was surprised to hear that message. I never thought I wouldn’t succeed. I am tenacious enough to plow through to get what I want even if I need to find it in unusual places. I seen the brass ring and my eyes don’t leave it until it is in my hand. Sure this is obsessive or overly focused, but some of the greatest success stories are not because opportunity fell into their lap. These people worked for it. I am working for it. I expect my education dream to be fulfilled in a years time. Possibly a year and a half because I need to take some time off to rejuvenate my mind and make me hungry again for learning. I am tired and resent having to write with managerial focus when the sun is shining and the farmer’s markets and parks are calling to me. I also expect to have a new career within the next two years. I hope it will be much sooner, but I am willing to wait. I am not that person who is waiting for the opportunity to fall into my lap, I am keeping a watchful eye and listen carefully to signs.

Today is a big day in my world. My ED announced her retirement and the new replacement will be introduced to the Board today. The rest of us will find out on Monday. I look at this with mix feelings. I am ready for change but hesitant to discover how the change will affect me. At any rate, I am ready. A newish friend of mine asked me yesterday what my plan was to do with my degree once the business of school and homework was done. I said I want to be Emperor of the World complete with cape, awesome silver boots and minions. If that fails, I want to be an integral part of a non-profit agency. Not front line but management. Eventually I want to run the agency. Not necessarily the one I am in, but AN agency. I figure it is a great shield to the world being an ED for non-profit when I am trying to rule the world. It is a perfect plan and no one will suspect it. I will gain the trust of loyal minions and have access to an office secret lair. My son is savvy enough to build me all the technical gadgets I would need, like sharks with lasers on their heads or a volcano that erupts with a push of a button.

So either my near death experience has made me delusional or very self-aware. Either way, I’m glad I didn’t die by sushi – it is a pitiful way for the emperor of the world to die. I’m think more along the lines of death by a Q gadget or squeezed to death by Doc Oct. Either way, I will make a splash because I am reaching for the brass ring.

I am a cry baby

cry IMG_9246
OMG I love him…I don’t know him but just look at him!!!Photo credit: migasun)

I was out visiting last night and consumed 3 shots of espresso. Probably not the smartest thing I have ever done. I was wide awake until close to two. Up again at six thirty. Am I tired? YOU BETCHA! Am I emotional? I cried openly in class today…you tell me.

Caffeine gives me energy – false energy – but I feel pumped none the less. I washed floors, I got things in order for a trip I’m taking and I checked my class assignments. My head blew off. I did very well and suddenly felt like my impending holiday would be super relaxing and fun….then I couldn’t sleep and my act fell apart. I no longer felt in control of my situation…that sucks.

The nice thing about being awake all night is I could email with my friend Bokkie in South Africa. She is taking Early Childhood Courses and that is my field so I helped out a bit. I laid in the dark letting my mind go places it shouldn’t. I was doing so great with the emotional thing…this was just a bump in the road. I needed to let it wash over me.

In the morning I needed coffee like you wouldn’t believe…yes the irony was not lost on me. My niece and favorite barista was on duty this morning and she makes a damn fine latte. It helped tremendously. I did crave chocolate all day – but resisted. I am in control except for the crying part….

I need to clarify one thing. The group of students I have this year is likely the best group I have ever had. I mean EVER! I have been doing this since 1988. 24 years of this kookiness and THIS IS THE BEST CLASS EVER! I heart them! They are 4 and 5 and will be fantastic humans. Of course they are a work in progress and are not perfect. For example, the gal I consider to be the kindest with the most potential turns out to be a playdough hoarder with a mean streak. It wasn’t pretty. I caught her at it and declared my disappointment. To her credit she felt remorse – not a usual response from 4 and 5 year olds. Then….the sobs started. She cried like I ripped her heart out of her chest with my bare hands. I am a softy when it comes to broken hearts, so I wrapped my arms around her and let her cry it out. Wr eventually moved to the couch because she was so distraught. 45 minutes later, we were finally able to reach a point where we could calmly discuss the situation, make up and be friends. Her biggest worry was she let me down. I know that feeling. Disappointing my dad was the worst! It stuck with me forever, I can still see the look in his eyes…ug… Yes I cried a bit when she told me that. Only because I was sleep deprived…I am not a baby – you are. No, YOU ARE.

Anyways…

The afternoon brought another heart braking incident. I am getting too old for this.

The final event shattered me. My favorite – yes I have a favorite. All teachers do, they just won’t admit it. Fairness above all else. Anyway, we were doing pet shop yoga poses and my favorite was touching the girl’s hair who was next to him. He doesn’t speak – ever. He has a couple of words he can use when it’s require, but he can communicate with gestures, kindness and expression. Did I mention he was my favorite? He has a HUGE crush on this little girl. She is kind and sweet and always has a smile for him. It was her turn to pick a partner, he held up his hand and she walked right by him and picked a girl. I watched his heart break right before my eyes. I think I could hear it too. The deadness in his eyes was obvious. I cried and covered my face to shield me from the naked pain on his little face. I wanted to run up to him and say, “It’s okay – I love you!!!!” Of course I know from experience that when the one you love doesn’t love you back, there is nothing more painful in the whole world. You want to die right then and there. You can actually feel your heart ripping from the inside of your chest and feel it scrape around your chest cavity and end up in your digestive track where the bile eats away at it until you bleed internally and die. Then all that is left is a soulless life form wandering around until that magical day when all is better once again. Of course you think it will never happen and you beg and plead with the love of your life to take you back in that pathetic embarrassing way that makes you cringe every time you look back on it.

I could see it all in his face. He stood in line, tried not to cry and became emotionless. Four years old and suffered his first major heart break. His soulless life form drifted to the snack table where he could not eat. Food tasted like sawdust in his mouth. The agony of the situation was SHE sat at his snack table. She was across from his little body, not talking because she too is unable to speak much – only she speaks another language – English is not easy yet for her. She communicates by smiling and lighting up the world – but HE couldn’t look at her, the pain was too raw. I didn’t blame him. I understood. The best thing I could do for him was take him away to a place he had never played before. He was able to move on and smile once again.

Obviously this was a sad and painful day. I look forward to next year with the hope that this is my last year in the classroom. I love my kids but chances are I will never have a year like this one again. With my luck it will be like last years group and that is enough for me to work at Tim Horton’s and serve donuts. Clearly the caffeine has done damage to my heart and soul. I need a proper sleep and become cold hearted again and resist the sweetness that can envelop me.

It’s days like this one when I wonder how am I going to make it? The pain is too deep to let it go. I think of that little face with the broken heart visible in his eyes and I hurt like it just happened to me. Oh to be 3 again and be self centered an unaware of others. being 4 is too complicated. Being 44 isn’t much better.

Bring on the happy place, a full nights sleep and a dole whip…and maybe Tarzan walking around in his loin cloth…its all good.

My test results are in and it doesn’t look good

I got the results of my brain scan back today and there was some surprising information given to me. I will share with you the MRI

My coworker recieved it from the Mental Health Specialist we consult with. They were kind enough to deliver it to me. I don’t remember having an MRI done, but obviously it is mine.

I have been studying the effects of brain trauma and growth in people under 25. I find Dr. Bruce Perry’s work fascinating. Never in a million years did I expect this. Lets take a closer look, shall we?

You will notice the top left of the image is called the Ptooey Gland (regulates veggie aversion and suspicion of new cheeses) It is part of the worthwhile food cortex. This explains why I am suspicious of new cheese. I look at what my mommy eats then judge it. My mom hates cheese! I didn’t even eat non-processed cheese slices until I was 21 an living on my own! This explains EVERYTHING I have come to know about my cautionary cheese life.

Moving down we come to the Phone Call Interruption Ganglia. Wow, that is in the frontal cortex! That means it is the higher functioning part of the brain. Everyone knows (and now you do too) the higher and more forward the separate parts of the brain  are, the higher functioning and less primitive or “caveman-like” the thought process is. Clearly I am a well developed communicator triggered by the use of someone else on the phone not talking to me or paying attention to me.

Then there is the all important Cartoon Addiction Lobe. Obviously it shows I love purple dinosaurs (Dino Flintstone) Blue Dogs ( Huckleberry hound) Red dogs (sure Clifford is great, but he was my son’s favorite. I prefer Hong-Kong Phooey or UnderDog because they wore red) and any colour dragon ( Pete’s Dragon and Mushu are my favorites). I had no idea this frontal lobe is so large. It does explain my love of all things animation!

Behind my ear is the Endless Repetition Stem. As a preschool teacher, this brain stem needs to be fully developed. I can sing the Wheels on the Bus for DAYS AND DAYS. I read Good Night Moon every night for 4 years and of course…say it with me… NO! There is a comfort in repetition. Something soothingly familiar. It is the reason I go to Disneyland a million times, or my constant need for Starbucks. Repetition = Good and that is why my ERBrainstem is awesome.

Then there is the largest brain lobe in my entire cranium. Muppet-Apprieciation Lobe. Clearly this explains my love of genius. Jim Henson was my hero. He created those muppet creatures that followed me my entire life from Sesame Street to Puppet Up and all the monster/froggy business in between. From them I learned my alphabet and how to count to 10. I learned about sharing and friendship. I learned that trash is only good for some people and not everyone can see a Snuffleupagus. Super Grover was a super hero like me and Mr. The Frog Played the Banjo and sang great songs. Chickens are awkward to pack and Smorgasboards are the dinner of choice. Muppets are family that arent related. That was the biggest lesson. I love them still.

Underneath that lobe is a gland called Crayola Oblongata (relays impulses to shove objects inside the nose and or vcr). Sure I blamed my nephew for jamming a dinosaur into the vcr. I confess it was me GG. Sorry. My gland is super heightened for jamming stuff, although it has been about 43 years since I jammed something up my nose…like that penny.

Whine Region – Hyper-thalamus (triggers startling adrenaline burst before bedtime. Coordinates tantrum efforts throughout the day) Hell yeah it does! This is why I drink wine, diet coke and coffee. This region is super sensitive and needs supports for regulation. I am still tweaking with quantities.

Exhibitionist Lobe – hehehehehe my favorite after the Muppet lobe. WHen I was 4 I use to run naked up and down my granny’s hallway wearing my towel cape. It was awesome! Since then? Ummmm my mom reads this and I feel the need to keep private about my exhibitionist activities that may or may not include pictures and texting.

Then there is the Scare-o-bellum (process fear of doctors, hairdressers and trolls) not to mention birds and mice…and bad smells…and expired food….public washrooms…oh and weird skin diseses. This gland is OVER ACTIVE and I need to have it removed or injected with ponies and rainbows.

As the lobes and stems go lower, we are reaching the more primitive parts of the brain. Like the Acceptable Medicine Center. This requires kissing booboos better, a love pat and 57 band-aids. Did you know a band-aid makes everything better? Even a runny nose – or so my son thought when he was 4.

Lastly the lowest functioning brain ventricle, The Hygiene Avoidance Ventricle. This becomes super active when camping and takes over my normal “Howard Hughes” ways. Shower? No it’s snowing. Kleenex? I’ll use my sleeve. Out house? Umm…behind that tree is cleaner.

So there you have it. My MRI results explain a lot about me…don’t you agree?