A bend in the road

I’ve spoken before about how much of a bookworm I was growing up.  One of the series I loved was the Anne of Green Gables books.  In fact, for a longer period of my life than I am willing to admit, I crushed hard on Gilbert Blythe, her childhood nemesis turned handsome doctor and husband (didn’t we all?).* I loved Anne-with-an-e’s unchecked imagination, and she often reminded me of myself with my head in the clouds and an imagination that lead to some ridiculous moments.  Over the years, there was one idea that Anne held on to that stood out to me.  She loved the unknown bends in the road, not knowing what lay ahead, but moving toward it with such hope.

“My future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don’t know what lies around the bend, but I’m going to believe that the best does.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables    

I am not like this! No, I am the person who is trying to guess the plot of every movie and figure out who dies and who survives.  My friends have patiently ignored me while I bugged them for spoilers, and in the same way, I don’t like not knowing what will happen in my life.  What I have learned over the last few years, is that my road has had many bends, and it’s rarely been fun moving through them.  It’s a stretching, aching, groaning processes, that sometimes feels like it’s hammering me into change as opposed to fine tuning, but it is always worth it.

At the moment I’m terrified (okay slightly dramatic… I’m apprehensive), because I’m staring down to a curve with some big changes.  To make it through I know I’m going to have to adjust habits that have helped define my phlegmatic self for years.  My forgetful, disorganised, she’ll-be-right nature that I have tried to curb will not get me through.  This time at least I know there are basic goals that I am working towards, for these I am pumped!  But I don’t know exactly how the final product will look both personally and for my goals, just that the process will be hard work.

I don’t shy away from hard work.  You can’t complete a 70.3 distance triathlon, or live with a toddler without expecting to sweat, and possibly swear.  In that regard I am really looking forward to the next few months of training and learning! Personal changes however,  seem to be much harder to instil.

The mantra I kept repeating to myself during the hard training sessions leading into the Sunshine Coast race is that discomfort is the catalyst for change.  Over and again I would repeat this to myself, and it’s so true.  The body is all about efficiency, it won’t change unless it is required.  I train to stress my body, and it adjust to accommodate to the new normal.  However, if I don’t increase or change the stimulus, I plateau.

I have felt for the last few months that I was in a preparation phase.  I wasn’t sure what for, but I knew I had to get ready. I really think I did prepare by applying some minimalist principles, getting rid of a lot of things, losing more weight, and spending what time I could with my girl and my family.  Now I’m entering the build.  We’re moving house into a much smaller space, and I have begun my first prac this week.  I also have really exciting things happening on the work front which I will hopefully be able to expand on soon.  But all of this combined with training and being a mum is going to be a juggle that will test me.  I’m unsure what the end result will look like, and that scares me in both a good and bad way, but I’m leaning into it.  I’m repeating the same mantra again, because to achieve (nay survive) change has to occur.  Above all though, I am excited, because like Anne, I believe that the best will be around the bend.

 

*Relationship Opening: Tall, dark and handsome doctors please apply in the comments.  Extra points if your name is Gilbert.

Running Bare

Today I feel like I did something very scary, but it seems almost insignificant to say so.  I thrust myself into the art world and attempted a watercolour painting as a gift for some dear friends and their soon to be born baby girl.  The only downside was that it was something I had never painted before, I had no idea how to do it, and I’m not a very confident painter.  All I had was an image in my mind and somehow had to transfer it to paper which I’m normally terrible at doing, ON THE MORNING OF THE SHOWER!  First thought, “Who does this?”  Second thought, “What can I find on Pinterest?”  After some rapid Pinterest research while my own bubby was napping I drew a quick very basic outline (FAR more scary than painting!) and put brush to paper.

At this point I’m sure you’re wondering when the scary part is coming.  So what if I’m not that great at art, it’s the thought that counts right?  WRONG!  It was difficult to put myself out there, even in the privacy of my own home, hoping that each new brush stroke would not destroy all the previous ones.  I have to admit that once I completed the main feature of the image, I almost didn’t complete the rest of the painting.  I was so scared to mess it up, too scared to fail.  Each step of the way I was wanting to check with all my arty friends and make sure that it was still okay.  I finally finished the painting an hour or two later after an intermission when Arya decided to wake up and wanted to play.  After fiddling for a while, I was actually really happy with it, but it’s so intimidating when you have to make yourself vulnerable in front of others and reveal a part of yourself.  This wasn’t just a pretty picture.  It really meant something that I was trying to share and I was laying myself bare in front the people I care most about.  The funniest part, is that it was only yesterday that I was listening to someone speak about being vulnerable with those precious to you, your chosen family.  I’m not that sort of person. I like to be strong, independent, and rely only (mostly) on big old me.  I’m pretty much invincible.  You can see how I struggled a little with this!

I’m really proud of myself for sitting down and attempting to create something from nothing, and I’m proud of the fact that I was willing to lay it out in front of others.  Even if it was totally awful, I still did it.  Just don’t ask me to paint it again, because I’m really not sure that I could!  It’s s step toward who I want to be and opening up to the people I have chosen to be my family (and my own family too of course!).

The image I had in my mind was of a purple bird rising up and emerging out of water, all of it purple, and all of it alive.  It is supposed to represent royalty, and new life bursting forth.  Apologies for the photo quality!

PS. A pajama singlet was sacrificed in the creative process.  I didn’t even know I had paint everywhere until Mum pointed it out.  Oh well, at least it’s water soluble, right?

Painting for Eva Faith

The Eye of the Storm

Unfortunately, the tough year did not end with my last post. A few weeks after my cousin passed away, my partner told me that a girl from university liked him. It seems silly to be worried about a teenager chasing after the man who is planning to marry you, especially when we were beyond the stage of ‘boyfriend and girlfriend’, but it is still annoying. I wasn’t too worried, but as I learned more over the weeks about how he was relying on her to deal with his own struggles and was talking to her constantly when we were supposed to be spending time together, it lead to more arguments. As things do, the arguments about the symptom lead to further arguments about the real issues. There is nothing noble or wise about trashing someone on the internet, so I won’t, but things eventually led to the point where he broke up with me. This was incredibly gut wrenching, because he was the man whom I had loved for 8 years. The man that I had planned a life with and my best friend. Breakups are hard, but I really felt like he had gone back on everything he had ever told me. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. I wanted to be hit by a truck.

However, the next day made things so much worse between us. I found out I was pregnant. This was a huge shock, and certainly not a situation that I thought I would find myself in. Our breakup seemed to shrink in comparison when I thought about the new life I was carrying. It was not a ‘zen’ moment by any means. I spent the afternoon hyperventilating and crying, not really sure how I was going to handle the situation. My emotional struggle became harder though, when my ex-partner started pushing very strongly for me to have an abortion.

I could not judge anyone else who has been faced with the decision to keep their child or not, but as daunting as it was to face the idea of being a single mum, I know I made the right decision. There was little more than 100 cells bursting with life the day I found out I was pregnant, but they seemed like the most important 100 cells that have ever been a part of me. This child was already alive and developing a brain (neural tube) and was just a week away from a detectable heartbeat. Every part of me knew that I had to protect this precious baby. For me, the choice to get an abortion would have destroyed me. To believe that there was a life that I had chosen to take away would have led me to a point in depression where life wouldn’t be worth living. On one hand, it was a hard choice to be a single mum, to not know how I was going to cope financially, how I was going to work and afford child care, or what to do with my studies. It was huge. On the other hand, it hardly took a moment, I had to care for and love and protect the baby. There was suddenly a whole new purpose to life.

I’m now 11 weeks pregnant, nearly at the 12 week sweet point where I might stop throwing up and feeling nauseous. I desperately wish that I was walking this journey as a family.  I don’t even know what a family is called when it’s just a mum and bub.  Still a family, but it seems somehow different.  In my case I am incredibly blessed to have a family who already love my little Amoeba and who are supporting me through everything and I trust that they will be the family we need.

My ex-boyfriend has also said he would be supportive and love and care for the baby when the time comes that he is able to. However, I still struggle with how to handle that relationship. Two days after we found out I was pregnant, he was in bed with the same girl we had fought about in the first place and is now in a relationship with her. I don’t know if it’s just normal heartbreak, or if it is hormones making things fun, but it has certainly brought me to the point of brokenness. I have lost a lot of trust and a lot of respect, but I still want this little Amoeba to have a dad and to look up to and love him. I know my dad is amazing. I’m 25 years old and he is still my hero, but I don’t know how to cultivate that in a broken home. I don’t even know what it looks like to have parents who aren’t together.

I have been incredibly lucky to have parents that love each other and love us unconditionally, no matter what the circumstances are at the time. I feel like I’m ill equipped for single parenthood. I have spent years helping out with my younger siblings, and I was a live-in nanny for three years, so I’m not scared to take care of a child. But being a parent is a completely different thing. I won’t have someone else to help and wake in the middle of the night when Meebs is crying. I won’t have that person to hold bub after I’ve been thrown up on so I can change into a clean shirt. I won’t have that person that I love and can rely on when I’m so tired I can’t do anything but sleep and feed Meebs. I DO have an amazing and supportive family who are going to help be that other person, and who will love and care for bub almost as much as I ever could. But when I face the journey ahead, I have never understood more clearly why it takes two people to make a child.

No Green Gables Here

I’m a huge reader. I have been all my life, which has caused me a little trouble in the past. I was home schooled for many years, and when Mum wasn’t checking up on me, I’d pull out my latest novel and be whisked away to another world. Unfortunately, I didn’t get too much school work done…
One of my favourite series growing up, was the Anne of Green Gables stories. She reminded me a little of myself, too romantic, with an idealistic view of the world and a love of stories. Anne had a particular musing though, that has really resonated with me through the years, especially now when I find myself between a rock and a hard place and I don’t really know where I’m going.  She used to talk about bends in the road, where there are changes in life and you can’t really see what’s up ahead.  She found them exciting and intriguing, and she loved the mystery that life brings.  I, on the other hand, find the concept terrifying.  I love the idea, but in practice, I’d like to know what’s happening, what the 5 year plan is, what the 10 year plan is, and have my future strongly in hand.  It never works!  No surprises there!

I’m facing my next bend in the road now, but this time I’m trying to take a hands off approach.  I’m just starting to see glimpses of what’s around the corner, but I really have no idea.  I’m still impatient, but for the first time in my life, I think I’m okay with not knowing.  I’ll get there soon enough.