Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Happy New Year

Deep Exhale. That is about all I have to say about 2007. That and damn good riddance. It was not a good year, not a fun year, not an easy year. If only it could just be not a year. Never mind. It is behind me now, time for new things, new hopes, new dreams...

And at the end of each year I like to take a look at the significant events of that year, kind of in summary, so I can put the year into the box of my past so to speak. Today my mother suggested that maybe I could do that "live", here on my blog (she has become one of my biggest writing champions of late, just what I need), and so even more profoundly lay it to rest. So here goes:

Obviously the most significant and impactful event was losing my aunt Disa to cancer early in the year. It coloured the whole year, and put a bit of a dark cloud over things. Much as I did what I do best, which is just get on with things, it actually became a form of denial for me (which it occasionally does, where I kick into overdrive in an effort to speed past the unpleasantness and pain that life sometimes has to dole out). So much so that it led to possibly the second most significant event of my year, taking some time off from my work at UBC. I did it because I needed to find my equilibrium again. I needed to slow down. I needed to soften. I needed to let myself sink into the deep pit of my feelings. Not something I wanted to do, something I had to do because I couldn't find myself in the morning when I looked in the mirror anymore. I had been waking up at odd hours in the morning with panic attacks. I had even considered taking anti-depressants, which would have been a very radical act for me. But I was just considering taking them because they could have helped me keep my feelings on the shelf and "keep on functioning" like a good little human lab rat. Fortunately I came to my senses again and instead of putting things into my body, I let things out. I cried, I ranted, I felt sorry for myself. I did it until there was no crying or ranting or feeling sorry for myself as yet unexpressed. And coming to the end... I came out the other side. I love it when that happens.

I also started to expand my view and ideas and options this year. I started considering different ways to do my coaching, to work and to make money. I got creative with financial investing, who knew there was so much money to be made out there?!? I hired a professional organizer. I hired a sacred intimate. I decided that if a relationship is not in the cards, well then I would just have to become a Single Mother by Choice. And why not? I have the resources and the love and the drive. I have the support and the community. Yes it will be hard, but so will not having my dream. And well you might ask "why did I put off doing this for so long"? Well, I wanted to be the ever so important 5 years out from cancer. And ideally I wanted to do it with a life partner, but since there are none of those in site, well, why wait? Apparently my aunt had been saying for years that I should do this. I know she would be so proud, and excited.

I got published and became a regular contributor to the Globe and Mail. I got my business cards done, and if I do say so myself they look fabulous! I bought a new car. I started playing squash again. I started working with the psychometric tool of Emotional Intelligence. I partnered up with a friend, Ariane, to be accountability buddies, so we help hold each others feet to the fire on things we really want to get done. I went on some interesting dates, with some very interesting people. I expanded my friends list. I led a bunch of workshops, and changed a bunch of lives. I bought a new computer and an ITouch. You know, life.

And for all that I am still damn glad that that year is over, and I have a whole new shiny, clean one spread out before me, to do with as I wish. And it is the Year of the Rat, very auspicious for me. Or, as I have been telling friends and family, the Year of the Baby. We shall see what life has in store as we co-create 2008, a beginnings year.


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