On the Eve of Fifty, Everything’s Just Fine.

We have swapped pumpkins and cornucopias for holly wreaths, twinkling lights and Christmas trees and the weather has finally changed.  It is still rather mild and we have had only one snowfall  and although everything has pretty much melted, winter is officially here which means my 50th birthday is less than 2 months away. For the past two years I have blogged about the goings-on in my life as I approach this milestone.  I looked at myself, looked at the way I approach things and and the way I live my life and somewhere along the way I had this notion that I would have it (my life) all figured out with all the answers to how to “be” as a 50 year old and on the day I cross into that year, I somehow will start this next stage of life differently. Along the way it felt like I was preparing for a trip to a foreign land, learning as much as I could from my experiences so that once I reached my destination I would be free of all doubt and confusion, ready to accept the wondrous things that would come with new territory. But with barely 2 months to go, I realize there is no new start, no expectation of anything remarkable save for the fact that I have been blessed with a good and healthy life and have been able to walk this planet for 50 years and for that, I am thankful.

Lately, I have been driving a lot for work and while it can be exhausting, mostly I look forward to my road trips where I’m in the car by myself, listening to music that matters to me and basking in that glorious time of reflection and peace.  I also had the house to myself this past weekend, the boys busy with their lives out and about with their sports, leaving me to care for the elderly dog.  Having been on the road for 4 hours of my 12 hour day and coming home to the silence of a man free house, I was able to continue my thoughts on turning 50 and what I have done and where I am in my life now, decorating for Christmas all the while.

I busied myself trimming the tree and thought about what I view now as the absurdity of my teen years. Everything was way too important and ever so highly embarrassing.  God bless them, but teens are just not fit for society. They need time to flounder and they need to be allowed to sort out their unready-for-adulthood brains in their own way and in their own time with as much or as little guidance from us as they approach their 20’s.  My teenage years were no more special than any other teen’s. Not quite a woman but by no means a child, there was just no perfect place for me.  I was confused, I had occasional clarity. I was bursting with self esteem then riddled with insecurity.  I yearned to fit in, was desperate to stand out, longed to be cool yet craved to be alone and invisible. I wanted big boobs yet secretly wanted my small ones to go away because I hated that my body was changing.  I wanted to wear make up and be fashionable but I loved being in a t-shirt, shorts and running shoes. I was the graceful dancer with every hair in place pulled into a tight bun on the one hand and the sweaty, after lunch break. tennis and volleyball tomboy with hair flying everywhere or tangled like a nest on the other.  I wanted to be independent yet expected my parents to conveniently make things right, right away – which of course never happened, thank goodness.  I wanted a boyfriend, I wanted to be free, I wanted to go to parties and be allowed to do some of the things other teens were able to do but my parents were fairly strict and did not often allow me to go out late at night before I was 18.  I thought that life was great and I thought it was unfair as I drifted in and out of confidence.  In my teens, I realized that my childhood passion for the arts continued to give me great joy.  However it was a passion but I was made to understand would not yield great earnings and that I should turn them into hobbies and while I did resent my parents for this particular guidance, I know they were doing what they thought was best with the knowledge they had at that time.

As I looked back on my 20’s (which for me was a more polished extension of my teens), I smiled as I recalled how adrenalized I was about everything.  I was young and eager to make a difference clear enough for all to see.  In my 20’s the world raised me up and brought me crashing down, often on the same day and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the true meaning of everything, wondering what the underlying tone was when someone said or did anything only later figuring out that sometimes people just did or said stuff and there was nothing more to it even though I wanted there to be.  In my 20’s I was emotional.  I made myself feel everything and I mean everything, from sponsoring children in underprivileged countries, to the plight of dolphins caught in tuna nets and really getting into everything earth friendly, to listening to anyone’s sob story to worrying about my family….sigh…I went in 120%!  That was all well and good but it was a little exhausting for those closest to me because back then my emotions were pinned right on my sleeve where everyone was able to bump into and bruise them and have them spill onto everyone and everything like hot lava. I was always ready to argue or get to the bottom of everything right away because that was my agenda and I’m pretty sure even though they loved me, I had moments when my parents and sister considered me quite off putting.  Can’t say I blame them.

By the time I was 26, I sorted myself out and started being more comfortable in my own skin.  I had lived on my own for quite some time, paid my rent, my bills, took care of myself and had my job at the bank in addition to several freelance television jobs that kept me busy.  At 27 I felt that Tom and I were in a good place in our relationship and we moved in together until work took him out of Toronto for the beginning of what were the coolest years of our lives.  I made the decision to join him and leave my family behind, living for 2 to 5 years at a time in different locations around the country.  There was eventually a wedding, new jobs, followed by a baby born in the east of the country and another born in the west and adult life in the blink of an eye was in full force.

I have lived a whole lot of life that seemed to snowball right to the eve of my 50th birthday.  Having a special needs child, I have not always enjoyed a “normal” motherhood and if you are going to say “what is normal anyway”, stop right there, because normal is a life raising kids where you don’t have to have a plan A, B and C to go for a walk or for every single trip to the grocery store, or to school. Normal is booking a vacation and not having to tell everyone involved with your trip from the travel agent to the airline, to the hotel to the restaurant that you need to make special arrangements so that maybe you could have a relaxing and enjoyable vacation.  While it is better now because we put in the work, time and love, we have never been able to just get in the car and go – ever.  But even with all the trials of having Adam, I would not trade any of it because this has been and still is our journey and mothering these boys has been my purpose in life. It has made me and the life I lead, worthwhile.  I remember always struggling to figure out what I was meant to do with my life; why was I born?  My moment of clarity came New Year’s Eve, 2000 when I woke up from napping n the couch in our apartment in Montreal .  I nodded off while I was waiting on the ball to drop in Times Square while watching Dick Clark’s Rockin Eve, and I glanced over to where Tom was sitting at the computer and saw Adam’s playpen and could hear the occasional static of the baby monitor and I said to myself …”Oh yeah.  Right. I’m married with a child”.  I remember thinking life was really perfect. Too perfect and I had a feeling the other shoe was going to drop but I didn’t know how big the bomb was going to be until Adam started showing signs of autism and I realized what had been looming.

In your 30’s you start to settle into life .  You are used to working and you know how to live out your role as a member of society, an adult, a spouse, a worker and a parent.  Like most parents you look at the state of the world and you just want the best for your child and you focus on giving them a life even better than yours.  You set the example, you guide, you encourage and love and from time to time you are just scared shitless of screwing up their lives and even though it is perfectly normal to screw things up from time to time, we are hard on ourselves when we do. Most parents want to create opportunities for their kids to succeed and somehow hope to perfectly balance that with protecting them while trying not to overly shelter or smother them.  Add to that the responsibility of moving ahead in your career, always competing with yourself and others for a better salary so you can give your family a comfortable life and hopefully give yourself some kind of retirement.  Yes, your 30’s is a different kind of struggle and in our family, we were soaked by a big bucket of autism.

We became a family living with autism in 2002 and we always will be.  There have been and still are so many difficult times but I have to say there have been many more glorious times and I could not be more proud to be Adam and Logan’s mother and Tom’s wife. Throughout the years I have met many fabulously kind and generous people and very talented and unique people via my firstborn son and even more through our charity Adam’s Hope. When Adam was diagnosed, I was called to sacrifice work many times to be a wife and mother in an era when it is more acceptable to have a career than be at home raising your children, being a wife and running a household on one income.  While juggling the proverbial balls of my life, there were days when I juggled them perfectly catching them all, and other days when things would go hopelessly wrong, I would lose my grip and drop them, only able to watch them roll far away from me. You see, with autism, your bad days are the ones spent trying desperately to reach a child who may or may not connect with you when you desperately need him to so that you can do other things you can no longer ignore.  A child with autism was just one of the balls of life I found myself juggling, only when it slipped out of my hand, sometimes there was no catching it and it took the other balls (paying the bills, preparing meals, changing the soiled diaper of the screaming baby etc) tumbling down with it.  It was draining but I have had to (and to an extent still do) try and figure out what my son needed or wanted and then of course I have had to advocate for my son, and have been his voice most of his life while making an effort every day to give Logan the regular life he deserves. This was not how I imagined my life would be with constant re-adjustment and scheduling and modifications and therapy for Adam but there are days when I can honestly say I am happy I did not miss out on all it has given to me.

By the time I was done decorating our home for the holidays, my mind drifted to my 40’s.  While still quite consumed with family, work and autism, it was in my 40’s that I truly appreciated life and all that Tom and I had done and accomplished as a couple and parents and in our past and present careers. In my 40’s I could see that this marriage and this life we created for the 4 of us had the mettle to withstand the test of time.  I had learned and was continuing to learn so much more.  My outlook on life was based on a wisdom I had heard my mother and her friends speak of and I was truly grateful that I was getting older. I have never had a desire to re-live my 20’s and certainly do not miss raising babies and little children like I did in my 30’s.  My 40’s allowed me to confirm to myself that I am bat shit crazy about Daniella. I love her dearly and I am proud of her.  I have survived the grief and pain of my child’s diagnosis and I have watched both my children accomplish far more than I have ever anticipated.  Together, Tom and I have overcome many difficult times that were exacerbated by the fact we were trying to raise a child we were barely able to understand and trying not to deprive Logan of the attention he needed and deserved.  The effort we have put into raising them, the attention, love, care and independence we have given them and expectations we have placed upon them have helped them become young men of whom we are tremendously proud.  I have sacrificed my career path to raise them and I have done all that I was supposed to do to get them to this point in their lives and now, while still here for them, I get to do what I want to do and it feels great.

In my 40’s we moved our family across this country for the last time to a place I do not love but I can tolerate because I am able to leave it often and get to cities east and west of here, many times in under 2 hours.  We moved here primarily because my husband’s parents are ailing and he needs and wants to be here for them.  It is a place quiet enough to raise a family without the hectic nature of a bigger city.  It is one where I have made many acquaintances and at one point, even called some people friend, quickly learning that even in your 40’s friendship does not have the same meaning for everyone and the best thing to do is to remove those people from your life and find friendship in the places and things you know best.  In my case, it was keeping connected with my friends in the many cities and provinces in which I have lived and the group of women I was able to reconnect with thanks to a life changing 30th high school reunion and the click of mouse that bridges the distance between us.  I stood beside these women when we were just girls and being able to chat with them and keep up with their lives is a blessing and I am honoured and proud to refer to them not just as friends but as sisters. Knowing they are just a car ride or a click away has kept me in tune with my roots, what really matters in my life and who I truly am.  Having this reinforcement from them has allowed me to seek and make smarter connections with people close by who are intelligent, kind and interesting human beings with whom time is well spent.

One of the most difficult times in my 40’s was the year we lost our father.  His death allowed me to take stock of my life, get over my arrogant assumption of longevity and realize just how little time there is to spend with the ones we love and doing the things that really matter to us.  In my 40’s I began to take ownership of my actions and remove many of the things I would do for others (albeit worthwhile and necessary at the time)  from my life.  I considered how pressed for time we always were and I started to eliminate the things that consumed way too much of it. I passed on the operation of my charity to three younger and fresher mothers and cut back on volunteering my time for many things.  I realized that people often forget that we have Adam and that he needs extra guidance.  I think people forget that we can’t just commit to things the way others can because we often have to plan every minute of our day just to keep things running on even keel in our home. We should be the last people anyone asks for help yet we have stepped up and done our fair share of giving of our limited free time.  We have done a lot for charity, spending precious days when we could have been with our boys with other people and now we are done.  Now that they are teens my husband and I are are looking forward to creating new memories with our sons and spending time with dear friends and family.  I want to plan escapes where I can enjoy the performing arts and sporting events and culture with my family and go away on family vacations once a year instead of every two or three years now that we know for certain Adam can handle long periods away from the routine of school and home. With regards to work, I am will continue to mold our business into the well oiled machine it is shaping up to be and will work side by side with my husband to make it successful and unmistakably ours.

I am thrilled my 40’s allowed me to really dig in and be okay with who I am and excited about who I am going to be.  Known to be outspoken since childhood, I have learned over the years when and with whom I should share my opinion, generally doing so only with people worth the time.  I have learned over the years when to persist and when to cut and run and I have truly digested the importance of self preservation. I know who I like and whom I can live without.  I know who and what to take seriously and who and what I can ignore.  Loving oneself, protecting oneself, making one’s happiness a priority and being kind to oneself key to having success in all areas of one’s life as well as learning to accept the long hard times and the times when we fail.  In my 40’s I also learned to own my health and my faith by often connecting the two.  No longer a gym member or at mass every Sunday, I enjoy yoga, my ballet and contemporary classes and working out at home because it is in those times I am able to still my mind and speak to the Divine and truly connect and pray.  I have found that while I still enjoy the beauty and ritual of the Mass my connection with God is strongest when I am taking control of my physical and spiritual health …and it’s peaceful, simple, easy and, well … nice.

Throughout the different phases of my life I have had unfulfilled wishes and regrets and for the most part those are on me but I am thankful for them because it is from our mistakes we learn to do things better for ourselves and for others.  Throughout my life, I have done what I was supposed to do and now as I approach a new phase of my life, I am going to do what I want to do.  By the time I had my house decorated for Christmas and was admiring it from the couch while sipping my tea, it dawned on me that there really is nothing to figure out about turning 50, nor is there anything mind-blowing about it.  I know that now, because it seems I already have it all together and there is no need to spend precious time trying to figure out how to live life.  I have worked on my marriage, my family life, my career.  I have compromised and sacrificed, taught and guided. I have worked through the obstacles, have won and have lost. I know there is so much more good and bad still to come but I am armed with a great deal of life experience and no fear.  I know what I like and what I want and I don’t compromise those things anymore.  From the moment we are born, life happens and all we can do is the best we can with what we have been handed.  Until I die, I will always have to roll with the punches and I suppose the one thing getting older really changes is how we choose to roll.  I hope the people dear to me will have long and happy lives and I hope for the same for myself, my children and Tom, the love of my life.  I hope to see many places and experience many things that will fill my soul with joy and I hope to see my children grow into adults and watch them chase their dreams, achieve them and soar.  Life is hard and it can be ugly, painful and even cruel but somehow these are the ingredients so crucial for what makes life fantastic and joyful for out of the darkest nights, dawn the brightest days and we should be mindful to taste the bitterness of the bad so we can learn to appreciate the sweetness of the good … life is too short to do otherwise.



To all my SJC sisters and friends who have turned and are about to turn 50, I thank God for you and for being so blessed to have you in my life.  Your friendship crosses land and sea and I am so happy we were able to find each other again and happier still to be able to get together and celebrate with a few of you.  I wish you good health and all the sweetness life has to offer. I hope we stay connected for years to come and are able to have many more opportunities to gather together . I love you all, my 50 year old friends.  Cheers to a new phase of our lives. ~ Danie.


Eight Months to Fifty: The Significance of the Cirque Bag.


The thought provoking bag.

The thought provoking bag.

This is my bag.

I like this bag and I hate this bag.  I got it at the Cirque du Soleil store in Downtown Disney a few years ago. My Cirque bag looks like it has many compartments because the artist used zippers to create this design illusion.  It isn’t the kind of bag one would use if you need to carry a lot of things with you. With two very small and rather shallow pockets in the front, the only useful parts of the bag are the two compartments on either side of it.


back of bag

Even then, because the bag is a triangle there really is only enough room to hold a small wallet, my phone, a tube of lip gloss, a small tube of hand cream and a pen.  Looking at the bag on the outside, I guess I love it’s soft smooth texture.  I still find it quite interesting to look at and that I see something new pop out at me every time I take in the artist’s zany, whimsical use of colours and patterns.  And while it truly captures the beauty and mystique of Cirque, it can also frustrate me if I happen to have it when I go grocery shopping and have to get in and out of it to retrieve my wallet.  Those are the times the look of the bag is deceiving and I curse myself for not having the good sense to have chosen a more practical bag to take with me when I run errands.

The bag was intended as a gift for someone who was a close friend at the time.   She was house and pet sitting for us while we were on our trip because she wanted to use the time away from her “normal” to sort out some stuff in her life. Of all the cool stuff in the store, the bag stood out and I considered it a good gift for her as, like me, she enjoyed unique, artsy and funky things.  There was a blue one as well and I was going to buy it so I could have one too but (a) I didn’t want to do the “bestie” twin thing,  (b) the blue one was not as bold and (c) the bag wasn’t cheap.  You might be thinking I did a not-so-nice thing when I decided to keep the bag but as you read on you will see this bag is more than the story of me not giving a gift intended for a friend. To me, the bag is a beautiful piece of art that captures the essence of Cirque du Soleil which has a special place in my heart from the days when we lived in Montreal and they still performed there.  It is a reminder of a great family vacation, a wonderful tropical night and is a symbol of a disappointing friendship that was doomed to fail, now that I think about it. It is a reminder of hurt, forgiveness and inner peace and is a grounding reminder to always listen to that inner voice of mine.

rose kennedy Rose Kennedy once said, “It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’  I do not agree. The wounds remain.  In time, the mind, protecting it’s sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens.  But it is never gone.”

If anyone knew pain, it was Miss Rose and as an admirer of hers, I too have subscribed to her observation because let’s face it, the old adage forgive and forget  is so far from the truth because while quite difficult when someone has wronged you and hurt you deeply to forgive them, I believe that forgiveness is possible but forgetting is not only impossible but pretending to is foolish. I rather lean toward the saying “live and learn“.

So why was this woman my friend?  Fair question. When I moved from Calgary, my focus was on getting Adam’s in-home therapy underway, managing our nutrition and getting Logan into school for the first time and basically raising my family and running a household while Tom worked.  He met her at work and thought she and I would hit it off as friends.  With the headway I was making with Adam, I didn’t really want to allow anyone new in my life, let alone get close to them but my mother thought it would be nice to have a break from my daily stay-at-home-mom-and-therapist-and-teacher routine.  Taking my well-meaning family’s good intentions and against my instincts, I made a new friend and as it turned out, we did have many things in common and did enjoy spending time together.  She introduced me to running, I got her practicing yoga.  We shared a birthday and a love of the arts  but there was always something that I couldn’t really put my finger on  at first that made me question if we really were suitable as friends. As time went on, I realized it was her false sense of confidence and her inability to be comfortable in her own skin that never sat well with me. She found the silliest things “cool”  and was a self-professed “whatever” girl who was “carefree”, “kooky”, “wild” and “dark”, glorifying herself as a crazy, haphazard mess, much like one might be at age 15.  I always thought after age 24, the “cool” thing was working to get your act together as a grounded, well-rounded adult. It was frustrating watching her avoid grown-up life – basic things like being accountable for her work or standing her ground as a parent or not showing up at an event she’d committed to, not caring she was becoming notorious for backing out of things at the last second.  She would rather appear helpless than face reality and with all that my family and I dealt with on a daily basis, I was disappointed in her childishness and lost a measure of respect for her because I knew if she made an effort to be a strong independent woman, she could own her world and not have to lean on anyone. I saw her weakness and I was amazed as I was annoyed by it, because she clearly found a way around seeing things through in her life. I blame myself for not cutting the friendship to an acquaintanceship at that moment.  It was the right move to make but when I mentioned it to my mother in passing, she suggested perhaps I was being judgmental and that sometimes, though we have our own troubles and struggles, we do have room to be there for someone else.  She ended her thought the way she always does with a simple sentence that makes me think – looking at me with those ashy grey eyes she said, “It’s okay to be nice Danie.  It’s nice to have a close friend.”  So, I kept on.

Unfortunately, I discovered like my Cirque bag, my friend was lovely on the outside and often shallow on the inside.  Her sweet and at times convenient naiveté drew people to her and made them want to help her.  To be fair, she wasn’t an ogre. I mean, she could be compassionate, kind and generous and she certainly preferred to laugh than sulk even though she had a lot weighing on her soul. But instead of doing something about her life, she chose to sweep every issue, conflict, responsibility and problem under a rug and as things built up and up and up, it spilled onto her children as well.  She never cleaned up her messes because she never learned how nor did she want to learn.  That took strength and guts and hard work.  What she did learn was how to draw attention by portraying herself as a damsel in distress.  She would proverbially throw her arms in the air and I would watch in awe as people would flock to her and wrap their proverbial arms around her, giving her advice, lending her their ear (whether sincerely or not) and assisting her in any way they could in the moment because her helplessness made them want to rescue her while giving them a feeling of being superior to her at the same time. Some people tend to like the misery of others deep down inside especially when “the other” has a tinier waist, a flatter tummy and an upright, firm, albeit artificial bust line.  When “pretty people” flounder or fail, in some bizarre way it arouses a sense of comfort in some people who are less so.  When a proclaimed “goddess” is knocked off a pedestal, suddenly it’s okay for the lowly mortals to not have the prettiest face or sexiest body, allowing the little devil sitting on their left shoulder to smirk once in a while.  I was different with her. I wasn’t competing with her; wasn’t looking to have her at my side to be popular nor did I want to rescue her.  I like strong, confident and hard working and lighthearted people around me.  I wanted her to grow up and take charge.  I was taking my mom’s suggestion and trying to be a friend but I made a major mistake.  I did not accept her for who she was and when I recognized that she couldn’t take the advice she sought from me because it entailed hard work on her part; when she could not get herself to where she needed to be on her own, I needed to take a step back from the relationship we had much sooner than I did.  But much like how I would make my bag work for me; stuffing all the important things I needed in there, ditching all the unnecessary receipts, pens and junk that was taking up way too much space,  I made her ditch her habit of putting stuff off or not dealing with issues. I made her  step up and be accountable for herself and her family and for a while it worked.  But in the end, she was like my bag, nice to look at and only able to hold the bare necessities and not much more.  I was wrong in thinking she could be more.  I was wrong to think that she was going to turn into a strong independent woman, mother, worker and reliable friend.  People can try to change. They can try to turn things around, be resilient and do the very best with what they have and strive for better.  We can all dig deeper and rise higher if we want to.  Not everyone wants to. Not everyone can. In the end, I learned my friend couldn’t be something she was not and I should not have encouraged her because she failed and did not know how to try again.

In the last year as the flame slowly went out on our friendship, I watched quietly as she frantically tried to preserve her youth dabbling in this, experimenting in that.  I watched quietly as her work and things at home unravelled.  I said nothing when I heard the rumours then saw the evidence of promiscuity and her unprofessional behaviour among colleagues which included her attempts to poach work.  Who she was, that unsure, wild teenager who never grew up, rose to the surface and she was considered by many to be nothing more than a vapid, waste of time and a disappointment to the workplace. The “whatever girl”  had nothing left to grasp and in the end all she could do was attach herself to a man (whom she admitted was not her type and one whom she and I agreed was not someone to get involved with until she had her life figured out) and “get the hell out of Dodge”.

When important contents are removed from my Cirque bag, it is mostly an empty vessel.  There might be a receipt or two left in it, maybe a pen and a tube of lip gloss but nothing I would be concerned about if it were lost.  My former friend and I did share some good times and I miss having someone nearby to do stuff in town with. Many of my friends live in cities an hour or more away from me and it was nice to have company at yoga occasionally or someone to have an impromptu breakfast out with on a weekend but now, in her absence, I’m back to doing what I do when I have the opportunity.  I’m back to jumping in my car (mostly in the summer when the roads are better) and going to spend time with women who don’t need propping or fixing.  They have their shit together and are worth the drive and my time.  In a million years, I never would have thought a friend would give up her family and her friendships for a man.  It was kind of like the girl or guy in high school who separated themselves from their friends because they were going steady with someone who was the be all and end all of their lives.  There was no goodbye when she left and I have since heard that she’s been back to visit her children? or family? once? …I am not sure.  I have had people mention to me and try to show me some of her social media posts (which I politely declined to view) that to them, seem dark and sexual and more in tune with the vibe of an angst-filled 18 year old. I don’t know anything about what she is doing now and I can’t comment on what she is posting and I have no intention of reaching out to re-kindle anything with her.  The last communication we had was via text and I let her know then how I felt, that I was verbally ending our friendship and I wished her well wherever her journey would take her.  She responded that she did not know what to do or say about my text.  She admitted that she was avoiding me because, and I quote, “it’s what I do. I avoid things that are hard to deal with.  I’m just an avoider” and she didn’t know what to say to me.  Hmm… upon writing that just now, I realize the only thing I really regret is the amount of time I wasted with her. So much had taken place in the 7 or 8 years we had been close – mostly things with her because after a while, it’s apparent that all the relationships she’s had with friends were rosiest when things, ever so subtly, were about her. It makes me wonder if all the times she stayed here, ate here, cried here in my house…the amount of times I fed her children, made them get their homework done, drove them from school only to have her reciprocate a few times in comparison then distance herself and disappear…I wonder if she was my friend at all or if I was just another really convenient pit-stop for her like so many of her past friends were?  Where was she when her family and friends needed her?  This is why I did not want to open up my life to someone new. This is why I wanted to go with my gut instinct and not get close to anyone else.  I can’t blame Tom or my mom for wanting me to not be lonely in this small and boring place but the only good that came of my experience with this friendship was the affirmation that I am best following my instincts every time.   I have my friends I am happy to drive to Toronto to see and one I have recently promised to fly to a different province to see. I have my friends abroad – my SJC “sisters” I keep in touch with on line after a 30 year reunion that reminded me that everything I know to be true, everything I was, I am and am yet to be was created during my life in Trinidad and the years we spent together – years that transformed us into the incredibly admirable, strong and courageous women we all are today. I have my dear sister, my mother and my girlfriend in Trinidad with whom I am able to Skype when life here gets on my nerves.  I have my  wonderful cousins and friends from Calgary and Montreal and a few people I have come to know and enjoy in the area where I live as well.  We are not “besties” but people –  women who enjoy each other’s company.  No drama, no issues no bull shit.  That’s how it was before and how I’d like to keep it.  No more wasted time on wasteful people.

But as my mother has said to me about all this – we all have experiences in life that help us grow and remind us of who we are.  Nothing, she says is a waste of time (I ain’t so sure about that, but okay).  She told me not all of my friendship was bad and what is most important for me to remember, is even though what happened hurt and at times made me angry and frustrated, she was my friend, and I did help her and she very much knows  that.

I told my friend when I returned from my trip that I got her a box of amazing chocolates in lieu of the bag (why lie?).  Though she really liked it, we both agreed that it was the better move as it may have ended up in the trunk of her car with the zippers broken and the material stained.  I never told her this but worse yet, because of her “whatever” and “kooky” nature,  I might have found the bag strewn on the shelf at yoga just like the way  the shirt (one she really wanted) that I gave her for her birthday along with her worn underpants were left there for God know’s how many days (I shake my head thinking of the poor custodian who had to remove her nasty bits).  Hmm…birthday present you really wanted carelessly left with your underwear on a shelf…kind of like the friendship I suppose that she tossed aside and let fade.  I am aware you can always point a finger at someone but you will always have 3 pointing right back at you.  No one is perfect.  We are all hopelessly flawed and I have some blame in the failure of this friendship. As I head towards age 50, I have learned many valuable lessons from this relationship. I have gone through the anger and the bitterness where I really wanted to hear that she fell flat on her face.  But then there was the lingering of a tiny shred of hurt that has been finally been replaced by forgiveness.  When you forgive someone you can’t wish bad things upon them. I don’t want her to fail.  I didn’t want her to fail when we were friends and I don’t want her to fail now.  I truly hope her “re-do” is a success because she is entering the second half of her life and at some point, she has to make it a better one. That tiny shred of hurt has been the affirmation that the best advice for me will always come from my intuition. I have all I need and there is nothing I am seeking; no thing I want.  This experience with this former friend in the end, I suppose, simply confirms I’m good.


For my friend and “word sister” Helen ~ Reading your words about your disappointments and triumphs with regards to your own relationships with others made me realize that admitting I too have experienced the hurt of a failed friendship, doesn’t make me weak.  No matter where you are there are people who are great friends and others who are not.  Your brave candor made me realize that I’m not above having unsuccessful relationships and that I am not too tough or strong to feel that kind of pain they bring because in life it is better to open oneself to all things ( even the not so good ones) in order to truly live.~