While perhaps not incredibly monumental for the rest of the world, today, for me, is monumental enough. Today, I celebrate my birthday. Can you believe that I am now 59 years old?! Where the heck did the past decade go? It seems like just a few months ago I was gearing up for my final year of being in my 40's. Now I'm gearing up for my final year in my 50's. Yikes!
A lot has happened over the past ten years. A LOT. At 49, I figured out a whole new direction for my life and then proceeded to go after it. That's what my 50's were all about … living that new life. (If wanting a re-cap on what I did in those past ten years, have a read through all my previous blogs.) But today, at 59, on the verge of the next decade, I'm wanting, yet again, to figure out a new direction for my life. What do I want to do about income? What do I want to do about my book (which still is without a publisher)? What do I want to do about travel and feeding my soul? How do I balance all that I do want to do with parents who are aging and needing more care? And then, added into that cocktail mixture of real-life realities, is the ongoing emotional battle of healing from trauma. Just when I thought I had a handle on the past, out of the blue, while chatting with a girlfriend on her couch last month, a whirlwind of insight blew my way, uprooting a specific perspective I had long held about a specific element of my former marriage. As I shared this perspective with my girlfriend, she lovingly (and in her usual direct and no-nonsense manner) told me outright that my perspective was wrong! She then kindly explained why I should re-examine everything about that perspective (and, I mean everything). You know what? My girlfriend was right. I had been looking at that situation all wrong. For years. That afternoon, my world turned upside down. Again. Even a month or so later, I’m still reeling from the emotional impact and fallout, trying to settle everything in my mind all over again. Some days I feel on the verge of an emotional meltdown, with tears just ready to stream down my face. At other times, all I can do is stare into space and try not to think about it. That’s why I planned, in advance last week, to dedicate not just my birth-day, but an additional day as well, to do for myself what I needed to do. A couple of days of self-care were just what I needed. Yesterday, on Day #1, I drove down the highway to the next town where I gave into pampering and luxury. I had a mani-pedi, took myself out for lunch and then got my hair cut. Today, after a slow, relaxed morning I’m going for my first ever ‘hot stone massage’! Next month, to top off this year's birthday celebrations, I’m checking myself into a log cabin in the Rockies for a few nights (supposedly as a self-directed writing retreat, but it might just end up being a self-imposed emotional retreat instead). However I use that time, I will be back in the Rockies, feeding my soul and breathing in the fresh mountain air that I love so much. The goal is to return home knowing exactly what I'm going to do to make 59 a cracker jack of a year! Ten years ago I knew precisely what I wanted in my life (or, back in my life). My focus was clear and resolute. This time around, I'm a bit fuzzy as to what I want, much less how I'll go about it getting or achieving those particular goals. All I know is that whatever it takes, I'll figure out. Happy Birthday, to Me.
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Yesterday was another first for me. It took just over a year for everything to come together, but last evening I read out loud, to an audience of gathered guests and advocates, a one-page story I wrote for a particular event. I suppose it could be considered an inaugural public speaking address. Shortly after arriving in Kelowna about a year and half ago, I started following Kelowna Women's Shelter's Instagram page. At some point, a post appeared asking for abuse survivors to submit a story, sharing a bit about their lived experience. I commented on the post, saying I was keen, and met with one of the organization's amazing ladies for coffee. After a couple more conversations and back and forth emails, I was asked if I would be interested in reading my story out loud. Without hesitation, I said Yes! The event was titled Stories and Art: No Longer Hidden. Each submitted story (twenty-one in total, all sent in anonymously) was then paired with a local artist who created a piece of art, in their chosen form, based on the words of that one particular woman's story. The planned event would showcase the art and the stories, with a small handful of people performing or reading. For the past couple of weeks, as the event date approached, I diligently practiced reciting my story out loud, in front of the mirror, getting comfortable with the sentences and figuring out what words to emphasize. It was like being back in school and prepping over and over again the words for a presentation or speech. I even practiced out loud while walking in the forest ('cuz trees are always such good listeners!). And then, yesterday arrived. Friday, March 8, 2024 (which just happened to also be International Women's Day). I had been sent the agenda earlier in the month and was excited (and relieved) to know I was to be the first person to come up to the microphone. When I was introduced and my name called, I walked confidently to the front (despite my shaking legs), with my reading glasses and a single piece of paper in my hand. I took a deep breath, looked out at the crowd and started speaking. "My name is Deborah, and I am a survivor of domestic abuse." At specific times throughout the reading, the audience laughed, or nodded their heads, or even cheered out loud. I most definitely had their attention! They were listening closely and my words resonated. At the end, after wrapping up with the final sentence, there was an eruption of applause. I'd obviously made a strong positive impression. A couple of people even said Thank you and patted my shoulder as I walked back to where my girlfriends stood. Today, looking back on last evening, I feel incredibly proud for standing up in front of others and offering my personal spin on what was most definitely a devastating experience. It's been a long road of healing, and taken me ten years to get to this point, but I did get to my intended destination. Even more importantly, I know deep down that my words can offer support and comfort and hope to other women in a similar circumstance. I also feel, not surprisingly, a bit wiped and emotionally drained. Kind of numb, in fact. It's time to go for a walk in the forest and hug a tree. Below is the story that I wrote for the event, followed by the stunning artwork created by the amazing Michele Rule. From The Shadows, Strength Is Found By Deborah L. Wade Who ever thought anything good could come from being a victim of abuse? Or that possibly there was a silver lining for those of us who lived through such a devastating experience? Well, I am definitely not grateful for the bumps, bruises and black eyes my abuser inflicted upon me, not to mention the lifelong psychological scarring, but every single day I stand proudly in front of the mirror, in front of my children, my parents, sister and girlfriends, in front of the whole wide world, and acknowledge the amazingly resilient and strong woman I am because I survived abuse. Over the years, bit by bit, my abuser tried to strip away everything that made me the unique individual I am. He tried for thirteen of our twenty-year marriage to banish me of Me. That’s what abusers do. They chip away at their victim’s self-image, at her self-confidence, at her sense of pride until almost nothing is left. All I had to hold onto in my darkest days was a single thread of self-identity. Delicate and fragile, yet strong enough not to break, this thread provided unwavering fortitude and reassurance that I was the good person I always knew myself to be. From this thread came the strength to endure. Each and every victim of abuse possesses this same strength because, deep down, with fierce determination, we refuse to sacrifice ourselves completely. Even though I had to take again and again what he dished out (‘cuz it never turned out well when I tried to fight back), the fact is I did take it. But, and here’s the beauty of it, I never gave up. I refused to drown in the watery abyss of oblivion. Yes, I was up against a force much more powerful than me, but I am who I am and no one, NO ONE, can take that away from me. Today, besides being happily divorced, I am a woman who knows herself inside and out and is laser-focused on what she wants (and doesn’t want) in her life. I value my self-worth and can handle just about anything life throws my way. Besides being a loving, supportive and always-available mother to my three adult children, I hope my future includes becoming a best-selling author once my memoir is published. Oh, and I don’t take anything from anyone, anymore. I am done with that. Growing up, years before the abuse, I was strong (as my high school girlfriends remind me). Today, after a lot of reflection and a lot of healing, I am stronger than ever before. I share this strength with every other woman in the world who is a victim and survivor of abuse. Let’s stand up together ladies, and give ourselves a round of applause, because we are a remarkable collection of women. What kind of person am I? Am I the kind that thinks, works, lives inside the Box of Life or am I the kind of person that pushes beyond standardized boundaries and parameters (perhaps also known as limitations)? Am I not one or other but, like most people, a combination of the two? Over the past few days, while I seriously bogged myself down with questioning thoughts about how I am currently trying to accomplish a variety of different life goals, I realized I may be a more 'out of the box' kind of person than I ever initially thought. Let me bring you up to speed on what's been going on since my last post. Two weeks ago, I interviewed for two different jobs. Both the interviews went well, with lengthy and thoughtful answers to questions and a good amount of laughter mixed in as well. Both jobs would have offered me a chance to spread my wings in new directions while effectively utilizing all the experience, talents and skills I've built up over the years. Both indicated that a final decision would be made within a couple of days. Now that an entirely new week has come and gone, I think it’s pretty obvious that I didn’t get either job. I guess there was someone else out there who was better suited than myself. And then, to top it all off, I still have yet to hear anything back from the two publishers I sent my memoir manuscript to (bad grammar, I know). I followed up, twice, with voicemails and emails. What did I get in return? Zip, zilch, nada, which baffles me as they were both so keen and enthusiastic earlier in October. I know I'm not the only author out there who is trying to secure a publisher, and they likely have lots and lots of submissions to consider, but I've spoken directly to them (face-to-face and screen-to-screen) and still all I get is absolute silence. In a need to get away, and work on my overall perspective on life, I flew over to Vancouver Island for a few days to hang out with a girlfriend. Admittedly, I was a bit of a feisty bear for the first forty-eight hours, venting my frustration and rage, along with a lot of less than lady-like curse words. Then anger gave way to deflation, with me questioning everything in my life. Why am I writing this book? Why won't interested publishers respond? Why won't a potential employer recognize the skills and talents I bring to the table? Throughout all of this, I realized, I was waiting for a response from other people. While I'm chomping at the bit to get this memoir of mine published, and get myself out there in front of people to talk about and share what I learned from my life experience (oh yes, and earn a paycheque), I'm left drumming my fingers on the desk, waiting with bated breath for someone else to initiate the next move. Although sick and tired of this particular situation, what could I actually do about it? Then, thanks to a girlfriend of the girlfriend with whom I was staying, a totally unexpected brainstorming session took place. These two ladies filled my mind to the brim (and plenty of journal pages) with all sorts of possible answers and solutions and strategies for relying less on other people and relying more upon myself. They gave me examples of how I can think outside the box and still achieve my goals (perhaps even more successfully than when thinking inside the box!). The long and short was I flew back home yesterday with renewed determination and focus, ready to take control once again of my dreams and goals, and put myself back into the driver seat of my own life. Years ago, while sailing across the Pacific, I had a t-shirt that stated boldly, but in a cute way, You Are Not The Boss Of Me! I'm happy to admit those words still ring true today. ** UPDATE ** Moments after posting this blog, I received an incredibly heart-warming telephone call from one of my interviewers. Although they did go with someone else who had more direct experience for that particular job, I was told that I made a solid impression with them and that I have a skillset that could be beneficial to the organization. They are hopeful of opportunities to work together in the future, just in a more suitable manner. So, there you go! Life is rosy once again. |
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May 2024
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