Liz - Lost in Translation

New Perspective

2013-09-05T03:21:00.001-04:00

New Perspective

I never know where to start with these.

My instinct is to select a topic and to start composing an essay. But I am no longer in school and this is a blog not a paper to be graded so I suppose I can just ramble off whatever nonsense I like.

I miss my home. I miss my friends and my family and the people and places that are familiar to me. Moving is fantastic and for the first little while you feel as though your entire life is a vacation filled with new experiences. Waking up each day is exciting and fulfilling and you don’t want to miss a single instant sleeping because there is so much to see and do. For an entire year that was my life. I had no interest in building social bonds or meeting people, I just wanted to experience this place on my own terms, find my own favourite hiding spots and take in everything around me without any outside influence.

More so I just wasn't ready to share my life with people anymore.

When you try and explain this to people who see you as an outgoing social butterfly it can result in some serious confusion on their part. Most people don’t understand what happened to make me want to withdraw from my social circles and focus more on my inner self.

I’m still happy and friendly these days, just much more selective about whom I let in to my life.

Up until recently, that was essentially no one.

Those who know me, know I am resolutely self-contained. I have an inability to ask for help and an equally strong inability to trust anyone offering me help. It has been this way for as long as I can remember.

For some reason, I consider asking for help in life to be equivalent to cheating. I truly believe that you are depriving yourself of a gratifying experience by copping out and letting someone do the leg work. As a result, I tend to be someone whom you ask for help rather than offer it to.

It may sound insane, but I have found that in most circumstances there really isn't anyone out there better suited to solve my problems than me.

I revel in the suffering that comes before the solution.

I don’t know if it was how I was raised or simply an ideology I developed throughout my life, however I firmly believe that suffering builds character, self-reliance builds self-esteem and self-fulfillment builds self-worth.

So for many years of my life - practically the entire thing - the act of asking someone for assistance was like torture to me. I avoided it at all costs and resented myself for days after the fact at times when I did need help.

Moving away was just an extreme extension of this. When I left, I needed a lot of help in ways that I didn't know how to ask for. I was hurt and confused and I had lost my ability to trust even my own good judgment. I had put all of my trust in one person, thinking that was a way to limit my suffering as it relates to my correlation of self-worth to self-containment. However when that trust was broken I was deeply affected by it. I felt more alone and misguided than I ever had in my life. And rather than trust anyone else with my problems, I simply ran away. I ran as far away as I could go.

I believed the solution that would follow my suffering was more self-awareness.

Thinking that solitude would bring clarity to the mess in my head, I avoided social interaction and opted to spend all of my time alone in the wilderness. For many months I suppressed my sorrows with new adventures and interesting experiences, spending hours upon hours alone, thinking that would help me come to terms with my troubles.

What I discovered when I had finally had enough of the loneliness and solitude was that I had made no actual progress in dealing with the issues I had brought with me from home.

In fact I had spent so much time alone that I felt I was even further away from being able to trust people – especially strange people I had no connection to. I struggled with the idea of dating immensely. I knew I wanted and needed a partner to share my experiences and thoughts with, but I was also acutely aware of my inability to allow someone into my life enough for them to want to stay.

I excel at keeping people at arm’s length, at changing the subject when the topic turns to me, and at deferring compliments, sentiments and niceties that are directed my way. I would pride myself on my staunch resolution to remain unaffected.

However, after reflecting upon myself for quite some time, I came to the realization that it was not inner strength at the root of my consciousness it was inner weakness. My self-isolation, and lifelong inability to trust others and ask for help did not stem from a positive place but rather was a reactionary consequence of my negative life experiences. With each negative experience came a realization of vulnerability that I saw as a potential weakness to be exploited. So like an engineer, I would analyze the constructs of my unhappiness and make a list of all I had done wrong to bring it upon myself. After I had established the cause of my pain I would resolve myself to never allow it to happen again.

A lifetime of this behavior and I found myself in place with hundreds of acquaintances. The only person who truly knew me was gone and had hurt me in ways that were preventing me from allowing myself to find anyone to fill their void.

I began to look at the people I considered to be weak – the ones who love and trust easily, who lean on their friends for support and aren't afraid to admit their deepest secrets and emotions – and recognize the strength in their openness to social bonding. I envied their ability to forgive and forget, to give second and third and fourth chances and to trust their secrets and failings to someone other than themselves.

At some point along this path of self-discovery, I made a decision to put myself into more emotionally dangerous situations. Almost immediately I was deeply hurt by someone I trusted and cared for. But instead of blaming myself and internalizing my discomfort, I did something I've never done before, I shared my thoughts and feelings with someone else, and in the process inadvertently made a friend. Unexpectedly, I found someone who I could share my experiences with who I truly believed understood them.

By talking about it with someone and listening to their advice and similar experiences I came to the realization that there are other people out there who think the same as me. Albeit not very many, but they existed!! By choosing to open myself up to pain and disappointment, I had also opened myself up to happiness and companionship. I now understood why people chose to rely on one another. The sense of comfort in having someone empathize with your insecurities and fears was something I had never really experienced.

I had found strength in vulnerability.

Did this mean I was off running around sharing my innermost thoughts and fears with every person I met? No. Did I feel comfortable enough to trust someone completely from a romantic or true friendship standpoint? Also no.

But in the years since I have left home I feel I have grown immensely in my ability to simply ask someone for advice or to burden someone with my problems when I need a reprieve from the weight of them on my shoulders.

It may be a very long time before I am ever capable of trusting someone the way I am supposed to. But I think if I spread it out, and put little bits of trust in the people I feel deserve it, then one day I will get to a point where I can find one person I trust completely. Until then, I am working towards being more open, more vulnerable and less self-compartmentalized.

Am I a healthy human being? Probably not. Am I ready to seriously share my heart with someone, not very likely. But the only way to find out is to try. I am tired of being alone and suffering to build my character. From this point forward vulnerability is my new source of strength.

I leave you with those thoughts and the following quote:

"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable."
-Joseph Addison

Today is a New Day

2013-08-20T00:54:00.001-04:00

Today is a New Day

It’s been so long since I've updated this blog that I had forgotten it even existed. At my outset, I had been eager to keep a running journal of my thoughts and my life via this page. However, I’m afraid that my desire to compose essays rather than genuine ‘journal’ pieces has kept me from setting aside the time to produce something acceptable for consumption.

Today that all changes. It’s my intention to regularly contribute my thoughts and ideas whether they be grammatically sound and edited six times or not. As my initial goal was to treat this as a cathartic outlet, I feel it is only fair I give it one more shot.

So where to begin?

The day that I composed my first post I was nervous, excited and unsure of my future. Today, I am the same. It’s funny how we believe that certain events in our lives will somehow give us more clarity on who we are and what we want. At times this holds true, but most times these events just bring us more questions and desires and goals to be answered and fulfilled.

More than two years ago, after starting this blog, I packed everything in my life that I could fit into a van and I drove away from what was familiar to me. Leaving my family and friends and the comforts of my little cottage was one of the most difficult and simultaneously exhilarating experiences of my life.

To try and detail my life abroad for the past two years in one post would be a fruitless undertaking. I thought perhaps, instead I would share some things I have learned along the way in both my lifetime and my travels.

Loneliness is what you make of it. Commonly perceived as a negative emotion – and at times truly is – loneliness is something that you quickly learn to appreciate for a variety of different reasons.

Particularly because there is a variety of different forms of loneliness to be felt.

I suppose the most obvious place to start is human contact, or simply socializing in general. I happened to be lucky enough to have my dog with me. For a very long time it was just her and I. Transitioning from a hyper social to a completely solitary life can be a tremendously difficult experience emotionally and having my dog to talk to and be somewhat ‘social’ with made an incredible amount of difference.

Nothing can replace the familiarity of your closest friends. I am an outgoing individual and I’m lucky enough to meet new people daily in my everyday life. However, it took returning home and walking into my best friend’s house to fully grasp how it feels to truly be surrounded by home.

You see, loneliness can be geographically based as well. Spending endless amounts of time in strange and new locations can be the loneliest feeling of all. Getting lost, truly and utterly lost, is one of the most humbling experiences of my life. The fear and desperation and despair that you feel at your complete inability to help yourself is indescribable.

This leads to another form of loneliness – support. Traditionally I am a relatively self sufficient person. I was raised to be responsible for myself and I rarely rely on anyone for anything based on the sheer discomfort it causes me to do so. However, the few times I have truly needed someone in my life, I’ve always been able to call my father or Travis. When you’re 5000km away from these people, you have a jarring realizing that you are truly alone.

All of these examples I have provided sound negative, I’ll admit. But if you simply look at them in a different light you can see why I began this topic with a positive tone.

Despite popular belief, you do not become bat-shit crazy after spending hours and hours and days and days alone. In fact I’d be inclined to argue the opposite. Solitude gives you the opportunity to actually stop and listen to what’s going on in your head and your heart . Once you can appreciate how much is going on in there that you distort and drown out with television, social media and other forms of crap, you learn to truly appreciate solitude.

Being new places is exciting. It also allows you to never really be mad about traffic because you have no idea how long it should take to normally get there. I will admit that sometimes it is just nice to know where you’re going and the fastest route to take. Eventually you come to terms with your geographic failings and you just accept that until you’re willing to call somewhere home, you are always going to feel a little bit lost.

Being lost and alone or having your vehicle broken into, or simply sleeping alone in a tent in an unfamiliar wilderness are all incredibly lonely experiences the first time around. Conversely, finding your way home, and waking up the next morning un-mauled by bears are some of the greatest moments that life has to offer - true independence and validation that you can do it alone. You can survive and indeed you can have a little fun doing it.

In the years since I left my home, and started this blog, I have grown and changed as a human being. I am more self aware, I can say no when I truly mean it, and I do what makes me happy, not what I feel will make others approve of me.

Moving away has brought me freedom from the pain in my past that I thought I could never escape. The distance from the places and people that made all those memories in my life so prevalent has allowed me to distance my heart from them, make sense of things that didn't make sense back home and to let go of the things that I can’t change or understand.

Albeit I am also missing out on the great things at home, my family, my friends and my past life. I feel as though when I am here, every day is a new day filled with possibility for me. I am not held back by my past life experiences, instead I am set free by the possibilities of my future.

Am I happier since I left home and started a new life? I guess it depends on what day you ask me. Overall, my life has changed for the positive. I still don’t know who I am, or where I am going in this world, but I feel like I am starting to learn finally. Being true to myself and staying strong against whatever obstacles I encounter has been my goal since leaving. I feel like I’ve stayed true to that. Would I like things to start getting easier? Sure. Am I ready to start sharing my life with people again? I think so.

Today is a new day and I welcome it with open arms.

Success, Failure and the Grey Areas In Between

2012-02-22T10:05:00.001-05:00

For as long as I can remember, I have felt immense pressure to succeed, to be successful, to be a success. And although I never really knew exactly how to do so, I gave it my best. Throughout my childhood, when life was simple and Dads are impressed by things like learning to write your name in cursive writing and getting perfect on spelling tests, success seemed to be tangible. I felt as though if I just kept doing whatever it was I was doing to make my Daddy smile, I would be on the road to a successful life.

Unfortunately, life has a way of becoming complicated on you. My Daddy still smiles at me, but here I am, at nearly 28 and I still couldn’t tell you what I believe success to be. I suppose this is my attempt to do so.

As I often do, I turned to the internet for answers to my questions. What does the world define as success? I wanted to know.

Ironically, the one source I can almost always trust to clarify the meaning of any obscure word, the dictionary, gave me less certainty about the true meaning of success than when I had begun my search. It had only been five minutes and already I felt as though I had taken on an issue I couldn't hope to understand.

suc·cess/səkˈses/

Noun:

The accomplishment of an aim or purpose.
The attainment of popularity or profit.

Perhaps I am a simple layman, but it seems to me that the word success has two very different meanings. How does one interpret this? Is success subjective – relative to the opinions of those who are judging you? Like beauty, is success in the eye of the beholder?

Rather than finding answers, a myriad of questions were flooding my mind.

In the interest of preserving my sanity, I set about analyzing this confounding definition on a more granular level.

For me, success has a very positive connotation to it. My imagination drifts to chubby cheeked highschool students embarking on their journey out of highschool on their graduation day, the expression of sheer agony mixed with pure pleasure as a marathon runner crosses the finish line, the feeling I had when I received my first real job offer after college. All of these thoughts coexist happily within the defined realms of accomplishing an aim or a purpose.

But what of those goals and aims that are negative? If you attain the goal of suicide, does that make you a success? How about if you achieve your goal of starving yourself until you are just a shade of a human being? Is that successful? Murderers, rapists, liars and thieves – all of these people achieve their goals but would society define them as successes? I would like to think not.

So, perhaps this broad definition is required. Maybe success is achieving your goals, but only if they culminate in becoming rich, famous or popular.

By these standards I hardly make the cut. I am not rich, last time I checked I wasn’t famous, and the jury is still out on my overall popularity.

It is at this point, to my dismay that my eyes scrolled down the page to read the antonym for success – failure. The words practically beam off the page at me, judging me for my lack of successful qualities.

My chances of achieving success were starting to look quite dim at this point, and feeling discouraged, I retired to a cup of tea to spend some time absorbing my realization of my utter failure in life.

Upon further consideration, I came to the pleasant conclusion that my old friend, the dictionary was wrong. I am not a failure; I’m just not rich, famous or popular.

As far as I am concerned, these requirements are too rigid. If the case were that success was achieved only by the rich famous and popular, well then that makes the rest of us big old failures. I was beginning to feel a little better about myself. This was swiftly followed by the nagging awareness that I was no closer to understanding what exactly success was.

I closed my eyes and asked myself to produce the first word that came to mind associated with success. Time and time again, my brain responded with the word ‘Happiness.’ Not, money, or fame.

Maybe I lack ambition.

Or maybe the only way I truly believe I will achieve happiness is by being successful. Regardless, my little exercise was not helping much.

For something that you either are, or you aren’t, success seems to be torturously intangible, almost to the point of being laughable. Why is it that the definition seems so clear cut and yet I am left with the feeling that something very important has been left out?

After what seemed like hours of quietly pondering (which in actuality was probably more like 30 min), from somewhere deep inside me, the answer came.

Success is measured by the soul, not by prosperity, or how many people attend your funeral. No one can judge you to be a success or a failure except yourself.

The dictionary is correct in some semblance of its explanation, but it leaves out an important aspect of what I believe to be success – fulfillment. It may mean acquiring mass amounts of wealth to one person, or being recognized by strangers to another, or perhaps renowned by peers and colleagues by someone else. For yet others, success means simply to plant a vegetable garden and reap its harvest. The underlying variable that remains the same is this – you smile in your soul. Something inside you says, “Good job, you! You have done it! I approve of you.”

Is this a vague explanation? In short, yes. And after some review, I am inclined to say my explanation looks a lot like the dictionary’s “The accomplishment of an aim or purpose.”

I submit this minor alteration for your review.

suc·cess/səkˈses/

Noun:

The accomplishment of an aim or purpose that brings an individual genuine happiness and fulfillment.

One might ask then, after all this reflection on the subject, do I consider myself successful? I wish the answer came easily. I may not have accomplished everything in my life to make myself genuinely happy and fulfilled yet, but each day I am a little closer than the last. I think a better question would be, do I consider myself a failure?

Something inside me says I’m not. J

I Am a Bird

2012-01-28T16:46:00.001-05:00

When a small and helpless gosling struggles its way into this world, and takes its first breaths of air, does it arrive with a sense of knowing that it will someday embark on a great and perilous journey across thousands of miles and vast expanses of terrain? My best judgment tells me this isn’t so.

At what point in life then, does this little being become conscious of this greater purpose? An internal clock, ticking away, counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until departure, is what I like to imagine.

Perhaps one day those who have previously completed the migration just head off, and the rest follow in an earnest effort to remain with the group.

What’s fascinating is that we just don’t know.

Today, with all the fantastic technology we have, we still cannot explain why birds, butterflies, whales and all manner of beasts, at certain periods in their lives are compelled to undertake arduous, often life threatening voyages to destinations that are incomprehensibly far away.

Whatever the explanation may be, when the call to migrate comes, it never falls upon deaf ears.

Some people will describe it as a building anticipation, an inner restlessness that cannot be ignored, then before you know it, you’ve sold nearly everything you own and you’re standing, slightly stupefied, in front of your over-packed vehicle with the realization that you’re leaving.

It all happens faster than you can logically process, and I suppose that is the beauty of migration – if a bird was able to truly comprehend the risks involved in the migratory process, I mean really sit and dwell on it, you may find that some would choose to stay, and take their chances with winter or food shortages or whatever hardship the migration is intended to avoid.

Nature is beautiful in this way; it pulls and pushes us all in one direction or another. Without our conscious awareness, we find one day we are not the same, we have grown, changed, have different goals, passions and ambitions.

For some of us, that realization is we must go. We must migrate.

Good Friends Are Hard to Come By

2011-02-22T06:00:00.001-05:00

People come in and out of your life everyday. The saying 'people come into your life for a reason a season or a lifetime,' always comes to mind when I meet someone new. For me, most people come into my life for a season. Very few have stuck around for the long haul.

When standing at the precipice of a major life change, one of the toughest things I will have to leave behind, are my friends. I don't like to think of it as leaving anything behind. The world is small in this day and age, and technology grants us the privilege of being able to communicate with loved ones even when they are thousands of kilometers, and three times zones away.

Despite this, actually contemplating the fact that you cannot email a hug, a quiet look of encouragement, or a quick glance at the right time to say 'I know exactly what you are thinking right now..' is tough.

I love my friends. I know everyone says that. But, I really do. They are my family, my confidantes. I keep a very small group of friends. I like it that way. The world moves so fast, that it is impossible to have more than a few good friends and be able to truly be interested and involved in all of their lives. If I could pack my friends, and take them with me I would. Unfortunately, I just don't have the space.

Planning, planning and more Planning!

2011-02-21T06:00:00.002-05:00

Moving across the country seems like a great idea in theory, doesn't it? Tossing your fears and inhibitions to the wind, starting out on a bold adventure. After beginning the purge of my extraneous possessions, the subject of actually planning the cross country trek has moved to the forefront of my thoughts.

Wanting to be able to take in at least a couple hours of sights each day, I have allotted myself eight days to travel from my present home, here in Deanlea to my new home in Port Moody, British Columbia . As a result of my unorthodox travel companions, I have opted to sleep in my car every night of the trip.

Before you shake your head and declare my insanity, I implore you to give me the benefit of the doubt. This is not my first long term car journey. In fact, I have driven across country (as the passenger) from Ontario to Sacramento, California, where I lived for some time. When I chose to return back to Ontario. I took a bus, alone. And last year, I drove with my boyfriend down to Mile 0 in the Florida Keys. So with over 16,000km of long distance driving under my belt, I would like to think of myself as a well-seasoned road tripper.

That being said, I have learned that the key to a successful and pleasant road trip with as few mishaps as possible is planning, planning and more planning.

Breaking it down into categories helps immensly and keeps you from overlooking important but tiny details. Because I will be relocating on this journey, and not just visiting per-se, it will require a little extra dilligence on my part. However, I am ~~completely terrified~~ completely convinced it is totally do-able.

The details of how much it will cost, as well as emergency funds have been ironed out and I have progressed to planning the actual route of my trip. A bonus is that I am a member of CAA, which gives me access to maps and travel guides for free. The also offer a service called a TripTik, which allows you to customize a map for you road trip to include whatever stops you'd like to make along the way. You can order one to be printed for free at the CAA office if you're a member. Non-members can visit the caa.ca website and builf their own TripTik to print at home. This tool is super handy and I have used it on more than one occasion. Check it out for yourself, if you'd like.

I have failed to mention that I spent a huge amount of time searching for the right place, and searching for steady employment before I even considered beginning the road trip planning.

After I plan my route, I will share some of the stops I plan to make with you.

Ciao for now...

The Value of Stuff

2011-02-20T01:38:00.002-05:00

Everything has a value. Whether it be monetary or sentimental or even practical value. On rare occasions, some items have value that falls into all three of these categories. I like to call it the 'triple threat.'

These days I have been looking at my possessions with new eyes. You see, when you live in a house, you end up with a lot of stuff. Over the years, you acquire it slowly, one knick knack and souvenir at a time. Bits and bobs you tuck away for a day when you might need them. Hidden away are a million little items that you forgot you had.

Now, all of a sudden, I notice everything. For instance, how many books I have...

THE CULL

Assessing the value of your personal belongings is hard.

Frequently when performing this exercise, I have tried to utilize the aforementioned 'triple threat' as criteria. The problems with this approach are as follows:

1) I have too much stuff
2) I can find a good reason to keep all of my stuff
3) I like my stuff

As you will know from reading my previous post, that I am planning on making quite a long distance move. And, alas, the limited space inside and on top of my 2002 Pontiac Sunfire dictates that I must trim the fat. So, every time I look at anything in my house, I try to assign some sort of a value to it.

The first thing that usually comes to mind, seeing as I am traveling thousands of kilometres away from my home, is how much room do you take up? Then, how much money can I fetch for you? How much do I need you? How much do I want you? How much do I like you?

Time after time, I come to the conclusion, that I want, and need everything. And to boot, I like it all! Please don't think of me as a terribly materialistic person, but, the stuff I have I chose carefully, I saved for, I pined for, and eventually purchased. Inevitably, the emotional or sentimental value of an object almost always outweighs its value in price for me.

But I can't bring everything. After my assessment of my stuff, I began to assess myself. How was I going to be able to do this? Clearly I am too attached to my stuff. A new approach was in order. I needed to assess 'the value of my values.' Or more precisely, the value of the criteria I am weighing each item against. The following is my (very high level, not-so-detailed) list of my criteria of value, in order, from most important to me, to least:

1) Sentimental / Emotional values
2) Practical value
3) Monetary value

It made me realize something interesting. Or rather, I suppose wonder something interesting. Do we all define our value of stuff differently? What criteria do others measure the value of something against? What is value really?

Curiously, value is fluid and changing. It can be defined simply, and at the same time, cannot be explained at all. Why do we value the things we have? I am speaking of possessions specifically in this instance, but, it is a question that can be applied to the intangible as well.

Like our fingerprints, our motives behind our value of things, people, experiences, are completely unique. In way, they define us.

Asking these questions has led me to a starting point in the monumental task of reducing the volume of my belongings to approximately 30 square feet.

^Insert Life Here ^

I will start with the things I have no emotional connection to, as it is much easier to assess the practicality of an item when I don't have a personal attachment to it.

LIST OF THINGS TO GO:
1) Dryer
2) Random old rocking chair whose origins I am unaware of
3) Giant armchair and ottoman that I stub my toe on every time I cross my living room
4)...

OK so perhaps I may have a bit of an emotional connection to some of the objects, but negative emotions don't count.

I have listed my items on kijiji.ca and as I write this blog, someone is responding to my chair. I am one more (albeit very small) step closer towards my new home in the west.


Bye Bye!

Comfort - Friend or Enemy

2011-02-19T05:52:00.002-05:00

Until recently, I had never really put any thought into the concept of comfort. Certainly, i have grasped it on occasion, when slipping into a new pair of socks, or flipping to the cold side of the pillow on a hot summer night. But that is not the comfort I am referring to.

I have often heard the phrase, 'too much of a good thing can be bad,' and like most of these pearls of wisdoms, it holds true in most circumstances. So, is it true of comfort? Can too much comfort be a bad thing?

Sitting on the couch cross legged, staring at my dog curled up, comfortably, I struggle with this question.

I am almost 27. It doesn't seem that old, but in my self-professed old age, I am beginning to re-evaluate my path in life. The first thing that came to my me, when I began this quest of self discovery, was, why even do it in the first place? I am comfortable. I went to school, got myself a good job, I have a roof over my head, a small dog to keep me company (among other critters) and for all-intensive purposes of this argument, I am pretty healthy. So, why change? What is so bad about comfort?

All through my early twenties, I hungered for this comfort, for stability, and a schedule, to know where my life was heading. Now that I am here, I am less than enthralled.

Part of me feels guilty even writing that. But the fact remains, despite the over abundance of comfort in my life, the security and safety, I still want more.

Comfort in my humble opinion is like a sweet drug that lulls us into complacency. We trade one dream or another for the warm and fuzzy embrace of our old friend comfort. All the while, we tell ourselves that it is for the best, because this was our ultimate goal wasn't it? Comfort?

Under closer observation, comfort doesn't seem like such a wonderful thing. It starts to look like a habit, and addiction even a disease or perhaps to be less harsh, a mild infection.

I am suffering from a serious case of comfort.

Case in point...exhibit A

Liz - Early 20s

Exhibit B

Liz - Late-ish 20s

Clearly, I am in serious need of an intervention...

Recently, I made a list. Tapping into my inner child, I wrote down every last thing I want or have ever wanted to do in my life, no matter how crazy, in fact, the crazier the better. After compiling said list, which included, among the mentionable items:

a - sing your heart out, in public, shamelessly (preferably on a weekly basis)
b - release a captive animal into the wild (by legal or non-legal measures...)
c - dip my toes into the oceans on either side of my beautiful country..

and so on... you can go on to imagine how many other ridiculous items appeared on my list.

Nevertheless, I examined each item as though it was my next major life decision. In the process, I wrote down every reason, I thought I couldn't achieve the goal in question, and I wrote that down too.

No more than 15 items into my list I began to see a pattern. One which eventually led me to begin this blog.

The number one reason (other than OK, I am not richie richie pants) why I felt I wouldn't succeed at most of these things was....fear of discomfort. I didn't want to give up what I had at the fear that I may not be able to get it back.

Don't get me wrong. I am not saying that all creature comforts are evil distractions waiting to pull you away from your true path in life, but after taking stock of mine, I came to the conclusion that I could stand to sacrifice a few in hopes of some adventure or some excitement, or some..what do they call it? Life!

As a result of all this taking stock, I have resolved to do something that part of me thinks is completely insane (and uncomfortable) and another part of me thinks is more exciting than anything I have ever done.

My home is a quaint cottage which has been in my family for 20+ years. I love my home, its familiarity, its smells and creaks and groans. Its comfort.

I call Ontario my home province. I always have. Ontario has never let me down and I love it too. Its comfortable (well, in the summer, spring and fall at least).

At work, my job title is mainframe systems support analyst. I love the way it sounds. I love my job. The amount of time and effort I expended to secure my position in this career could not be captured in 1000 blogs. My career is reliable, my company is secure. I have even heard the words, "I could work here for the rest of my life," come from my very own lips. My career is comfortable.

LIST OF THINGS I WANT TO DO:

...
13. Live close enough to the Rocky Mountains, that, should I want to climb them, I could.
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REASONS WHY I CAN'T

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13.

I like my home. It is comfy and familiar. What if I don't like my new home?

I like Deanlea. What if the cottage is gone if I come back and I will never be able to return here again? Deanlea is home to me, I can walk the dirt roads with my eyes closed. I don't need a flashlight in the pitch black to find my way. The beach is close enough to hear the water on a windy day. My neighbours have known me since I was knee high to a grasshopper and I would miss them. Deanlea is familiar, safe, and comfortable.

My job! What if I can't find another job? What if I don't like the new job that I do find? What if I never find I job and I end up poor and homeless and poor and uncomfortable, and POOR!
Uh reality, Liz. You can't climb a mountain.

An open letter...

Right now, comfort, you just aren't doing it for me. I'm sorry, but I think I am going to have to end this relationship. To be honest, I have met someone else. His name is adventure, and he is just so much more exhilarating than you. It sounds terrible, I know. You have been there for me through thick and thin, comfort. It will be hard to let you go, but I think it's best for the both of us. Please don't have hard feelings, I am sure we will meet again someday.

I am proud, and terrified to share that I have placed a deposit on a condo in British Columbia that I have only seen a few grainy photos of. Over the past week, I have furiously applied for as many technology jobs in the Vancouver area that I am qualified for. Much to my pleasure and surprise, the job hunt has not been fruitless, and I will not be homeless and poor when I arrive (as of yet!).

On April 22nd, I will pack up what meagre belongings I have left (after selling most of them for funds), into my little car. My dog, Te Amo and I are driving cross country together. Destination - Port Moody, BC and #13 on my life's list. On May 1^st, 2011 I will arrive and begin a new leg on my journey through life.

Comfort, you have been conquered!