There are many reasons for my feeling this way, I think. Writing this blog is one of those reasons. It has been incredibly liberating to just air out every dark corner of my mind – not that I have even come close to telling all my secrets just yet. But the point is not whether or not I have said absolutely everything I want to say or whether or not anyone has even read my posts. The point is, my conscience is clear and I am at peace because I say these things out loud and accept the choices I made as the choices I made. I’m human, I have a past, I have made mistakes, I’m definitely not perfect nor do I want to be, and I have the ethics I have. I don’t care who knows it. What’s done is done.
Someone very recently told me I should protect myself more online…that they were able to find out all kinds of stuff about me online because of a nickname I used…..where I work, my Facebook page, my Linked In profile, my email address and phone number, etc. They acted like they were doing me this huge favour telling me this, as if I didn’t know what the consequences might be when I chose the nickname I did. I thanked them for telling me, but honestly, I don’t care who knows what. So you know where I work…big deal, I would have told you if you had asked anyway so where’s the harm? I'm not concerned with this deceptive thing called privacy.....what is the value of privacy anyway? Is anything ever really private or are we all just kidding ourselves that privacy exists? I can see if you’re Angelina Jolie why you might not want the public to know your phone number but for the average person, why does it matter? You know all my darkest secrets and my phone number? Congratulations…I’m not ashamed and I don't care.
I mentioned in a previous post that my parents always told me as I was growing up how “naïve” I can be….they always said I trust too easily, hope too easily, open myself up and believe in people when I shouldn’t. I know my idealism can run wild, but that’s just who I am and always have been, and really I would not want it any other way. I live on instinct.
But I’m not an idiot. This willingness to trust, hope and believe is not, and never has been, based on an unawareness of reality….far from it. I am well acquainted with the dark places of this world….I see them in myself, other people and all around me all the time. I know they’re there. No, my willingness to trust, hope and believe is based on my desire for there to be a different reality and the belief that I can somehow make that reality happen. There is, within each of us, the potential for darkness and lightness. We all make the choice each day which it will be. Most days, I choose lightness. That’s what I have control over…my own choices. I’m in touch with reality and still, I choose lightness. I WANT to believe and hope, so I do. It’s an act of rebellion, not naivety.
I know I am probably going to be disappointed most of the time, and I am not at all surprised when it happens. But this disappointment is not going to stop me from continuing to trust, hope and believe again and again and again. I just refuse to let that happen. I know these choices can be risky.……so what? Yeah I have little fears that make me hesitate sometimes, but besides death and heights, there is nothing I am REALLY afraid of, and I have complete faith in my own ability to either get out of or get through any situation. What’s the worse that can happen? If that makes me naïve, then so be it. But I don’t think of myself that way.
Another reason I’m feeling so positive has got to be the fact that I have added exercise into my life. You know, for years I've heard that exercise boosts your mood and can smooth over depressive symptoms and I guess I believed it but it wasn’t enough to get me off the couch. I was a die-hard couch potato. I was dreading the fact that in order to have the life I want to have, I was going to have to exercise. If I want to ride horses, be a roller derby girl, pole dance and have the kind of sex life I want for myself, then I need exercise….there’s no getting around that. I talked in a previous post about how hard it would be for me to be "the kind of person who exercises".
But you know, I’ve not found it difficult at all….I absolutely love what I’m doing. I joined ROC Boxing and I really love being there. Hanging out there is just fun. There are always people training in the ring on the lower level while I’m on the treadmill on the upper level, so I get a show to watch while I walk. I can pick up boxing tips, lust after all the amazingly hot men , aspire to be like some of the female boxers. Everyone – female boxers, hot men, families – is so supportive and lovely. Everyone talks to each other…there’s no feeling of segregation. From Day 1, I have felt welcomed by everyone there. I work out with my trainer, Dana, three times a week now and I try to go on my own once or twice as well, so exercise really has become a part of my lifestyle now and I can feel the results of that work. I can walk longer, faster, use heavier weights than I could when I started 3 months ago, so I feel encouraged to keep going, keep doing it. And I’m learning to box, which is so incredibly empowering. There's no other word to describe it. When I wrap my hands and put on my gloves, I feel like a warrior. I’m also picking up new interests….I started watching boxing matches on Showtime and plan to see some live matches this Summer. I actually enjoy watching them and understand the technique, the skill involved in this sport now.
It’s weird, it’s like I don’t know who this person is…except, I do. It’s me and everything I’m doing feels completely natural to me. It feels like something I will keep doing. I don’t dread doing it. I’m disappointed when my workout is over and I can’t wait for the next one.
Another reason for my feeling the way I do: Today was my last appointment with Jessica, my therapist. As planned, she discharged me. We talked for about an hour and this session was very different than all our other sessions. She asked me a lot of questions about what I had been doing in the last six weeks, what was I taking away from our 18 months of working together, what has my mood been like, and what was the turning point for me. She also asked me what would be the sign that I needed to contact her again….how would I know if I needed to seek treatment again.
I really didn’t know how to answer that so we discussed it and we agreed that my behavior would be the guide. If a month passed and I had not gone to the gym or I used food as a coping mechanism that it would be time for me to get help again.
She also talked a lot about the things she personally noticed in the last year and half that made her feel confident about my progress. For example: my writing the appeal to my insurance company for my sleeve surgery. My surgeon’s office said they would handle the appeal for me but I decided I didn’t want that to be their responsibility. I was not their only patient and I knew my own history and story better than they did so I wrote it myself, followed up and managed to get the decision overturned without any help from my surgeon’s office at all. I never really thought of things like this as accomplishments but hearing Jessica talk about them made me realize they are.
Jessica and I have always had a very professional relationship. If I cried in session, she didn’t react the way a friend would…that was not her role. She didn’t comment on my progress. She stayed at a distance while she was treating me. Today, she told me I am her poster child. She told me she was so very proud of me and asked me if she could hug me. I was so moved by this, coming from her. I walked out of her office with the most enormous smile. It feels so amazing to know I was ready to stop seeing her. It feels great to know I can go back to her if I need to, which I know I won’t. I thanked her for all she did for me. She has been such an important person in my personal growth and I will always be so grateful. I told her the design I drew for my first tattoo is based on a conversation I had with her.
Right after Jessica, I went to an intake appointment for a new Primary Care Physician. I have mentioned in the past how unhappy I am with my current PCP...there's nothing wrong with him. He's not incompetent. I just think I can find a better fit for me. Now that my sleeve surgery has happened and I’m doing well, it’s time to broaden my focus. I am going to Trillium now which used to be exclusively for HIV/AIDS patients. They now also focus on other areas such as women’s health and transgender patients. My PCOS hasn’t been treated in years so I decided to try Trillium for their expertise in women’s health.
On Saturday I changed my hair colour from blonde to dark violet red. The salon where I get my hair done is in Canada and I was an hour away from a double header roller derby bout in Hamilton, so I decided to go. I have been a super fan of roller derby since many of my friends here in Rochester joined RCRD, a league that was just starting up, 6 years ago. My friends are skaters, NSO’s, refs…they were (are) all super involved in the league and Sam and I were suicide season pass holders from the start. I always wanted to be a skater. While I lived in Canada, it was clear I couldn’t join the league….I was too far away for practices, it just wouldn’t work. When I moved to Rochester, I realized I couldn’t join because of my fitness level. I could barely walk around the block, how was I going to skate? As I got heavier and heavier, it actually started to become painful to go see bouts. I wanted to do it so badly and just could not, so I didn't even want to watch and I stopped going all together. It wasn't just roller derby I avoided. For about a year after I moved here, I really just kind of became a recluse. Other than work, I did not go out anywhere or see anyone. I just didn't want to. I hated myself way too much to do anything other than wallow in my hatred.
But that's not the case anymore and I went back to my first derby bout in about 18 months. I sat suicide with my new fabulous red hair and loved every single second of it and I didn't care that I had a 3 hour drive back to Rochester that night. Back at work on Monday, one of my co-workers told me that if you make this kind of dramatic change in hair colour, then you need a new name to go with it. So he decided that my new name is Wonder Woman Bat Girl. I like it.
In two weekends I’ll be going to New York City for my cousin’s wedding. I am super excited for this trip! I haven’t been to NYC since 2008 so that in itself is exciting, but also I’m excited for my cousin. Her fiancé seems like an awesome man and they make an adorable couple. I’ll be the only person, besides my aunt, there from my family so I’ll be representing. My aunt lives in Toronto and is going to the City early for "mother of the bride" kind of things so I’m travelling alone and staying in my own hotel room and I don’t even remember the last time I took a trip, that was not work related, by myself. I. Can’t. Wait. A year ago I could not have even thought about going to NYC…I just would not have been able to physically do it, so this is kind of like a honeymoon with myself. God that sounds weird, but seriously....four days of bliss in one of my favourite places in the world.
Something else exciting happened last Thursday night. Rick and I were talking in the parking lot by my gym. (No, that’s not the exciting part.) There was more activity on Atlantic than usual: a group of people across the street at Sticky Lips were loading up their truck, another group of people walked past talking loudly and excitedly, and the gym was closing so people were leaving. In his usual animated way, Rick was telling me a story when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a cat near the front of the gym trying to escape all the hustle and bustle. I admit, I am two seconds away from being a crazy cat lady so it’s no surprise I saw the cat, but there was something about this cat that immediately got my complete attention.
I could see the cat was freaked out. He/she quickly turned towards us. It was dark outside, we were the only ones in
the parking lot and it’s not very well-lit.
It also backs onto several backyards and a big empty industrial loading
area. The cat looked like it knew its
way around and wanted to escape to one of those areas, which would have meant he/she
would run right past us a few feet away.
Then everything started to slow-motion. Rick’s voice disappeared into the night and I
watched this cat, completely engrossed, memorizing its markings, its body, its
movement and it occurred to me that this was a tuxedo cat.
I stood there quietly, waiting for him to get as close as
possible to me. As he approached us, I
realized this cat could be Felix. Not
just in the “I wish it were true so I’m going to pretend it is” kind of way,
but realistically, this could ACTUALLY be Felix. The cat looked like him, moved like him and
we were less than a mile from my house. Cats
are territorial…they don’t generally wander, but there are a lot of outdoor
cats in our neighbourhood. It’s very
possible that when Felix got out, he got chased from our neighbourhood and
ended up here. For those of you who have been reading since I started writing this blog, you are probably sick to death of hearing about Felix. You probably think I should just get over it already. But I can’t…that’s just not me. I have seen probably 100 found tuxedo cats since last July as a result of the search for Felix……in shelters, on streets, in people’s houses – dead and alive – and there hasn’t been a trace of him anywhere. I always suspected, based on his very nervous personality, that he would not be caught by anyone, or go willingly into anyone’s house, and that he was still outside somewhere, perhaps in someone’s garage during Winter, hunting his own food. All I know for sure is he’s somewhere. A cat doesn’t just disappear into thin air and as long as I don’t know what happened to him, then in my mind, there’s a possibility I could still get him back.
All of this went through my mind as I watched this cat run towards me and so, without thinking, I called out his name, in the same tone I always called Felix at home. The cat stopped dead in his tracks and looked right at me. (This is the exciting part.) He didn’t look freaked out that the scary human noticed him and made a weird noise….he just stopped and looked. So I called him again and still, he stood there looking at me, a paw still in mid-air. Same facial markings as Felix, same socks, same body. Just as I was about to try and induce him to come to me, the driver of the Sticky Lips truck laid on the horn and the noise broke the moment. The cat stopped looking at me and took off for a hidden hole in the fence.
I almost started crying….from frustration, happiness, hope. Mostly from hope. Honestly, after the brutal Winter we had, I really had almost given up all hope that Felix was out there. Rick and I started to wander the neighbourhood with me calling Felix and Rick talking about what I could do to find him. Rick’s got a lot of experience rescuing cats off the streets and dealing with feral cats so he was excited by this too. The cat didn’t make another appearance that night so I went home, completely wound up. I could barely sleep. I just kept thinking about how I needed to print some more posters, start getting up at 4am to go out and search for him again…but at least I had a neighbourhood to focus on. I kept thinking about how I was going to catch him and how would he be different after being outside for 10 months…what would he need to feel comfortable in the house again, how I needed to get him checked out by a vet, how he’s due for his shots, how the other cats and dogs would react to him being back.
I knew I was getting myself all excited and it probably isn’t even him. But it could be him and that’s all I care about. I have to know if this cat is Felix and if it is, I will get him back and I am beyond excited about that.
I could go on…there are so many great things happening right now and I don’t know if they’re happening TO me or if I’m making them happen or both but whatever is happening, I want it to keep on happening.
Random Stuff:
·
I am a compulsive list maker. I feel lost without a list.
·
My very favourite apples are Mutsu/Crispin
apples and since I’ve moved to the States I have had a really hard time finding
them.
·
I have a love/hate relationship with the Wegmans
close to my house on East Ave. The
parking lot and traffic flow are a nightmare.
On the other hand, I can find Mutsu apples and a single serving size of
lump blue crab so sometimes I have to go there just for those things.
·
I’m not sure I’ll ever want to move back to
Canada at this point. I’m not sure how I
feel about that.
·
Lately I have been listening to a lot of The
Doors and Chris Cornell’s acoustic, live stuff.
I feel like I should be listening to something more upbeat to match my
mood. I’ve realized that the music I
find inspiring is actually not upbeat at all and that’s ok.
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