Archive for April, 2012

I Will Fix Me

I started this post a while ago, but honestly I was trying to write into fruition what I wasn’t really feeling.  I was trying to will myself on the way to feeling better when I wasn’t even on the trail. Until yesterday. Now the post is finally finished and grounded.


I have not blogged in a significant amount of time.  Now much of this largely relates to the fact that I was wallowing, and I have, for the most part, attempted to keep the blog as upbeat as possible.  That’s hard to do whilst wallowing.

The thing about betrayal, which by the way has a large variety of forms (lies and/or breach of trust, infidelity, emotional abandonment, or some combination therein), is that it leaves the person left in the dust with a somewhat shaken confidence level, regardless of how competent they may be to handle their new life without partner, and (to my surprise) even if they were already doing pretty much everything alone already.  (That may be the longest sentence ever). There is an endless stream of self-doubt that comes with the deal.  As a result of this, I feel broken.  Sometimes I feel almost non-existent.

But I need to move on from this.   I need to do whatever I need to do to get past this.  I need to move from wallowing to self-nurturing.  And here is my plan:


And that is where the post stopped.  I had no plan… just a plan to get a plan.  Which of course was not entirely useful or noteworthy.  Then yesterday, in the normal course of mom-duty, I went to the drama festival to watch Rainbow’s grade perform…

As I sat on the bench waiting for the doors to open for the performance,  a red haired girl descended the stairs holding the hand of a teacher.  She had challenges which were notable from her gait, slightly tiptoed, and the sway of her head.  As she got to the bottom of the stairs she smiled with her entire face, pointed her finger to the two strangers waiting beside me, and said, “You will LOVE this!”  Then she joined the rest of her classmates.

Her confidence made me smile.

The play was an anti-bullying play in a Glee-like format.  All students took turns saying a line about standing up to bullies, tolerance, acceptance, etc., and these were interspersed with musical numbers to illustrate the points.  The songs had small choreographed movements, hand gestures, steps, etc., and it was obvious a great deal of practice had gone into the production.  The little red haired girl was in the back row, at the very end.  I presumed the teacher who was holding her hand was close by in the wings.

The last two songs were Unwritten and Lean on Me.  When they got to Unwritten something must have clicked with the little red haired girl.  Maybe it was her favourite song.  Maybe she found her comfort zone.  Maybe she just couldn’t hold in her love of music any more.  But whatever the factor, this child belted it out and danced her little heart out, albeit out of key and out of sync with her cohorts.  The other students carried on harmonizing and stepping together as if it were business as usual.

And I sat there and wept witnessing the sheer unbridled joy that was in that child performing with her classmates.  Then they did it all again during Lean on Me.  The group of students would do a turn, and she, on the end, would spin with arms raised as if she were summoning the heavens to dance with her.  And I cried again.

You see, there was this person with real challenges…. someone with every reason to wallow (probably)…. and she was rejoicing in her moment on the stage…  giving completely of herself and bursting with joy just to have voice and movement.  She had not a care about differences.  It may have been one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

At the very end of her assessment the adjudicator said she would like to “give a little shout out to the lady in the back row with the sassy haircut.  She was inspirational.”  Interestingly, every adult applauded.  Every child turned to look to see who was sitting in the back row of the seats of the theatre, not realizing she was referring to one of them.

So, little red-haired girl, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  I did LOVE it.  And you, just by being you, have lifted me up when I couldn’t do it myself.  You have given me perspective and a peace in myself.  You are a gift and an inspiration.



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