The Women in my Life

After reflecting on all my ramblings and realizing I should probably change the name of my blog to “The Musings of a Crazy Woman” I realize that things in my life have happened very organically. And honestly that is something that is important to me.

I have had so many jobs, it’s become a joke in my family circle. But if there is one thread of consistancy it is this, that I want to connect with people. I need to. I need people to feel like I hear them and they me. Because, after all, what is life without authentic interactions? It’s is one of the things that gives me true satisfaction in my life.

On that note, I felt the need to address the women in my life who have heard me. Who have made me comfortable with who I am, and in doing so, have given me the confidence in following my dream.

My dream? To be a successful woman in business for herself, while cultivating a healthy and nurturing family environment. Someone who is socially conscious and who creates something that actually helps people. Looking back, after all of the challenges and near-nervous breakdowns I’ve had, I can’t help but think:  “Clearly I could’ve thought up an easier dream?” But seriously, commiting myself to winning the lottery just didn’t seem like a well thought out plan.

So how have I coped? Perservered? Maintained my focus?

The women in my life.

No disrespect to my husband, who is a constant source of love and support (you know I love you Kev).

And my dad, who is and always will be, my hero.

It’s always been the women in my life that have been a primary source of inspiration to me. Mainly because we all — especially if we have kids — can understand the daily challenges of being a mother in today’s world. The feminist movement really didn’t do anything to propel us into an easier life. We were liberated from the kitchen in the fifties, while our men were at war, only to realize when we came home from our jobs, there were still dirty dishes in the sink, and children’s waxy ears to scrub and laundry to do. I honestly feel like the feminist movement just gave us more tasks. Because as we left the kitchens nobody replaced us.

Off on a tangent, I will get back to my original point. This is not a post bashing men, simply a post that celebrates my female comrades.

First off, there is my family. The people who think the sun rises and sets with me (don’t you?). My mom, my inspiration and my touchstone. For anyone who has read my blog they know my thoughts on her. She was and is still the best mom in the world. She has her bad points, don’t get me wrong, but my little spirit couldn’t have picked a better guardian. I look forward to her calls, and often find myself irritating her through mine.

Then there is my Auntie Louise, who I often think of as another mother. I have no bigger fan. Everything I do, in her eyes, is amazing, and she absolutely can’t imagine that I may have made some bad choices. It’s simply not an option. She thinks I am the best thing sinced sliced bread and can never be swayed any other way. I love her dearly.

Next, my sister. We couldn’t be more different, and yet we are the same. We parent so differently, yet our goals are always the same. She handles a high pressured job with ease, and has always been wise beyond her years. I often feel sad about our birth order, she had so much more stress growing up than I did. I got away with more simply by learning from her mistakes. She blazed the trail so to speak. She taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, tolerated the timid little kindergarten knocks on her grade two classroom door, only to have to take her little sister by the hand to the bathroon because she didn’t know how to work the clasps on her overalls, and certainly didn’t trust a teacher to do so. And, even though she wasn’t extremely confrontational in her own circle, she would have kicked anybody’s ass if they messed with me. I was lucky to have her in my corner, where she continues to be.

I have a myriad of friends, some from highschool, some new (specifically in my women’s groups and forums). Those that seek out authentic relationships with other women while reserving judgement. Devina, Sarah, Jen and Darcie — my women’s circle that disbanded but yet managed to maintain contact, proving that when women make connections, we keep them.

My friend Jessica, who is as diligent about self-improvement as I am, who always reflects my concerns about myself in a positive way, and tells me she loves me. We read far too many self-help books, but we always have a frame of reference. She is genuine and beautiful, and I know no other person who is as real and honest and good.

And lastly but not certainly not least, my friend “M”. I will not post her full name in this blog, which is public, because she is a private person and is fiercely protective of that, given her brief appearance and subsequent dissapearance from Facebook. No, I don’t buy that you never kept up with the site. I know the internet freaks you out at times. What can I say about her? She is my “new” friend. Isn’t that funny that I still think of her that way even though I have known her since I was 17, almost half my life. I guess that’s how you feel about people you did not form friendships with in school, even though I really don’t talk to any of those friends now. Our friendship has stood the test of time, moving across the country, having children, changing jobs, marital distress, and the like. When I phone her, I am home, wherever I am. She never gets tired of my rants, she hates the people who have wronged me today and loves them when I forgive them tomorrow. She always thinks I look good, even though I’ve gained twenty pounds. She accepts me as I am. I really don’t know what I would do without her, my little touchstone from England, and I have no idea if she realizes how important she is to me. We are so different in so many ways. She has some odd habits that I won’t go into detail about, English humour I don’t understand, and a relationship to something called “Marmite”, a spread made out of onions and yeast that I will never understand nor be brave enough to try. She is also far too enamoured with Wal-Mart, something I definitely need to overlook. Her influnce has also changed me, in terms of my husband, who is an english major, and his irritation at my use of the word “advert” instead of advertisment, and the family members that have no idea what I’m talking about when I say someone has “the knock” with me or that my son had a “paddy” in the grocery store because I didn’t buy him another Hot Wheels. I’m sure she has the same reaction when she goes home and is so clearly Canadian. I was lucky enough to be there for birth of her son. Driving in the middle of the night — unknowingly pregnant myself — on Vancouver Island, with no idea where I was going, I wound up missing the turn off to the hospital and hit the next town forty minutes away. I heard something in her voice when she went into labour that lit a fire under me. She said she was OK, but her inflection said I needed to come, end of story. I know what’s going on with her, even though she, on most occasions would probably never say it, and it really doesn’t need to be said, and vice versa. We often end up calling each other at the same precise moment. She is one of the most cherished people in my life. Someone who listens to me far too much. Love you “M”. You are my best friend.

The women in my life are so important to who I am, whether they listen, prod, encourage, support, reflect or challenge.

We are such a great gender.

To all the women who have supported other women, you are a gift. One that I will continue to acknowledge on my journey to, oh let’s face it, I have no idea where.

Love you girls.

xoxox