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~ When life doesn't turn out as you had hope it would – It may not be 100% factual truth-but, it is 100% me.

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Tag Archives: Divorce

I Dreamed a Dream

05 Tuesday Jul 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in Seeking Life Now, Uncategorized

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Adventure, Committment, Divorce, Dreams, Friendship, Fun, hope, life, Marriage, Reality, Romance

I had a dream last night that I had decided to leave my husband and run-off with an old flame of mine. This isn’t a unique dream for me, I have some variation of this dream every 3-4 months. 

The “object of my affection” is a guy who was my biggest crush in life, though in the dream he’s actually an almagamation of different people I’ve met into one super-human.

This dream always starts off so beautifully. My ‘dream guy’ has just professed his love for me and expressed the ultimate desire for us to be together. I’m swept-away. Swept-up in a daydream of violins, rose petals, strong arms and perfect love.
This is what I’ve been missing.

What I’ve always wanted.
My new/old beau and I spend some intimate and romantic time together. We embrace, we cry, we kiss we talk about the time we’ve missed and the dreams to come.

(At this point, I wake up because I have to pee. I go to the bathroom, pee, return to bed and fall back asleep, and am instantly brought back into the romantic reverie. My new/old beau and I have a few friends around us who are so happy that we’ve finally connected and that we have accepted the fact that we were meant to be together and I am feeling peaceful, happy and so in love).

Eventually, however, reality hits. This is the part of the dream where I start to think about how I would break the news to my husband. I begin to process how this will hurt him, and the realization starts to set-in that hurting him will hurt me as well, because his well-being was part of me. I don’t want to hurt him or see him sad.

More importantly, I don’t want to break what we’ve built together.

It hasn’t been perfect and it most definitely did not start-off in any romantic, loving, head-over-heels kind of way, but it is what it is because we’ve worked at it together. 

I never “fell in love” with my husband. We were good friends and I loved him as a friend. But, I never had romantic feelings towards him or felt attracted to him. Our romantic relationship hopped-skipped-and-jumped from friendship to ‘couple on the verge of divorce’. That is where our relationship started.

I never had the butterflies, the nervous stomach, the excitement and anticipation of being picked up for a date, or that feeling of being swept-up or falling in love. 

I have always wondered what I missed-out on. I try to tell myself that I don’t want, or need, the romance – that they are not required to be in a happy relationship, that it is unrealistic, that this idea of being “in love” with the person you marry is a fairytale, or something that only a few special (privileged) people get to experience.

I used to wake up after one of these dreams feeling resentful towards the man that was snoring beside me. Why couldn’t he be more like the man of my dreams? Why do I feel trapped and that it is impossible to leave to pursue a relationship like that of my dreams? I loved getting swept-away in this dream, a fairy tale, a plot for a Sandra Bullock or Meg Ryan movie. I used to try to live in the dream as long as possible once awake. To pretend that it was real.

But, this morning when I woke-up, I was surprised at how I was feeling. I didn’t feel resentful or sad at my lot in life, I wasn’t desperately clinging to the romance I had experienced in my dream, I wasn’t depressed by feelings of being trapped or stuck, I was relieved. I was grateful that the man snoring beside me was my husband and nobody else.

I usually wake-up during the part of the dream where I’m just starting to feel sad about the looming idea that I might not be able to go through with it. But, this morning, I dreamt for much longer than that. In my dream I went through a lot of processing and woke up after I had realized that I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to be with this other person. I wanted to be with my husband.

It was the first time that this dream didn’t leave lingering feelings of regret or sadness.

And there was no sadness there.

Only joy.

Joy and gratitude.

There are is still improvement needed and I clearly desire more excitement, romance, intimacy and adventure in our relationship, but I know that I want it in OUR relationship and not with anyone else.

I want to continue to build on what we have created. To explore and discover romance and beauty together. To continue to challenge ourselves and each other to make our lives the things of which dreams are truly made.

I love you, sweet cheeks.

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The Runaway

13 Sunday Mar 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

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Afraid, Alone, Childhood, Divorce, Fear, Happiness, Kindness, Loneliness, Marshmallows, Running Away, Sadness, Teacher, Unhappiness, Validation

*

When I was 7 or 8 I ran away from home. Not the typical I packed my suitcase and walked a little way down the street. I legitimately had run away from home.

There was a boy in my school we called ‘Chip’ and while I don’t remember a whole lot about him, or how he looked (I think he was fairly ‘boy next door’), I remember that we were very similar. We had deep, vivid imaginations and we had an entire universe of feelings/thoughts within us that we had no idea how to handle.

Chip and I decided one day that we were going to run away from it all. The problems at home, the problems at school, the constant feeling that we just didn’t fit in and seek lives better fitting our grand notions.

After school finished one day, we began our journey at the local Safeway. After all, if you are serious about running away from home, you are going to need provisions.

We were beginners at the whole running away thing, however, and perhaps, didn’t make the wisest choices of what we would need to provide adequate sustenance. We also didn’t have any money, so we shoplifted everything.

What great items, you ask, did we choose to pack to keep our nutrition up during this adventure. We started in the baking aisle because everyone knows that marshmallows are an essential item of any real runaway bag of rations. Our next stop was the cake decorating section. We picked-up two packets of candy cake toppers. I wonder if we did this because it was going to be one of our birthday’s soon and we didn’t want to completely miss-out on the festivities? At any rate, we left the store with marshmallows and candy cake toppers that read “Happy Birthday” and contained coloured balloons.

We walked for what seemed days towards ‘the edge of town’. We talked about where we would go and what we would do. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the details of that conversation now. But, I was becoming aware that my resolve in our journey seemed to be stronger than his.

Dusk was settling-in and I suggested we find a place to sleep for the night. We found a culvert that ran under the train tracks. This seemed like the perfect place to set-up camp. We made ourselves comfortable and then broke-into our rations bag. After devouring half the bag of marshmallows and all the cake toppers, we rested. Dizzy in our sugar high.

Chip said to me “what do we do now?”

I replied, “We relax and try to get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

About five minutes later, Chip says with a sigh “I’m bored. I think I’m going to go home.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. How could be abandoning our mission so soon? Where was his resolve? How could he be so gutless?

I felt blindsided.

“Are you coming?” he asked me.

“No.” I replied indignantly. “I have dreams to follow.”

And with that, he skulked out of the culvert and away from my life.

Alone, I sat inside that culvert until it was dark outside. I listened to the light trickle of some water that was running between the rocks and the sound of the world going on around me, without me.

I was starting to get cold.

I was also starting to get scared.

I was alone.

I was very, truly, all alone.

Nobody cared. Nobody would find me. This was it, I would either survive the night and become like Pippi Longstocking, or I’d die in the pursuit of freedom.

I hugged my backpack close to my chest, rested my head on the cold, metal inside of the culvert, and finally drifted off.

I was awakened by a flashing of red and blue light.

And then I heard my name being called by someone familiar, but not a family member.

It was my Grade 1 teacher.

She was an older lady who dressed a lot in purple and would chew gum wildly in her mouth while making the most amazing crackling and popping sounds.

She had arrived with the Police.

It turns-out that Chip had ratted me out. I wondered if he had confessed to our stealing the marshmallows and candy and I clung even more tightly to my backpack in hopes they weren’t going to ask to see what I had.

I pictured myself locked-up behind bars, begging the Police Officers to let me out, pleading with them that we were just trying to keep ourselves alive.

I got into the Police Car with my teacher. The policeman had talked to me, I’m sure, but I think I used my teacher as a personal shield and translator. She would protect me. I just knew she would.

I remember returning home and feeling a mixture of great disappointment and relief.

I was returning to sadness, confusion, fear and anger.

But, at least, I was warm.

I would never try to run away again. But, I often think about that night and my friend, Chip. We talked briefly the next day, but he had hurt me deeply and I couldn’t forgive him. From then on, I went on my adventures without him. Alone.

I am eternally grateful that my teacher showed me that I was worth something by coming to find me. She didn’t have to. She could have just told the police what she had heard and let them get me.

But, she wanted to be there for me. It is one of those moments in life that leaves an indelible impression and, to this day, makes me cry. She passed away years ago, but I will be grateful for as long as I live for her validation and kindness.

And, to Chip, wherever you are-I forgive you. And, I hope that you found the happiness for which you were searching.

*

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Teachers Pt. 1

11 Friday Mar 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Childhood, Divorce, Exploration, Grade 1, Kindergarten, Merryweather, School, Sinead O'Connor, Stealing, Teachers

*

I used to want to be a teacher. It was the first thing I had ever wanted to be as a child. Then it became that I wanted to be a missionary first and then a teacher.

I have always thought that teaching is one of the most noble professions along with farming, plumbing and garbage removal. All of these jobs are of utmost importance in our society, require a lot of energy, perseverance and humility. And, they can come with such little recognition, praise or appreciation.

I’ve had some pretty great and some fairly rotten teachers in my life.

I thought I would take a look back and see how many I could remember, what I remembered them for and whether, or not, they had a long-lasting, positive impact on my life.

Instead of naming names, I will use grades/subjects, etc.

Kindergarten: My teacher here was female, cheerful and rotund. In fact, she was exactly like “Merryweather” the fairy from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty. I remember nap time. I had an awesome homemade quilt that had hippopotami on it and I was always extremely proud when it came time to take it out. I also remember singing “Teddy Bear Picnic”.

Grade 1: This was a tumultuous year for me. My family had moved from our home in the country to town and my parents’ marriage was on the rocks. This was when i started to steal. I would steal things from other kids in my class. My teacher in that grade was extremely patient, kind and just. She was an older lady and very petite. I remember that she used to chew gum all the time, mouth open, rolling it around and making crackling noises. I thought it was so cool.

Grade 2: Another female teacher. She was very tall and very slender. One of my favourite teachers of all-time. She had this inner peace and strength that made me feel like everything was going to be ok. She was funny and had an awesome laugh. There always seemed to be a bit of mischief in her eyes, which was probably why I liked her so much.

Grade 3: This was around the year my parents divorced. At the very least, it was the school year leading-up to it. It’s funny, because it’s the only year of school that I can’t remember who taught me. I do remember the librarian during this year, however. Sadly, she passed away last year. But, to this day, she was one of the kindest, softest, sweetest, most pleasant and peacemaking people I have ever met.

Grade 4: My teacher this year was a man. He also happened to be a local radio DJ at night. Awesome, I know. I remember he let us dissemble computer hard drives, radios, etc. just to explore what was in them. He also let us do air-band competitions. My friends and I did “She’s Got the Look” by Roxette and the Joyrides. I played keys. This teacher always had a sweet smell about him like a fresh pad of paper and scotch tape got together and had a baby. He introduced me to Sinead O’Connor and taught me that it was ok to think outside the box and be different. You could tell he loved all the students and that he truly cared about us and was in our corner. He is now my mom’s neighbour. I recently visited his house and watched an old video he had of my class. That year, his class, was one of the most life-transforming years for me. I still refer back to the lessons he taught me when I need a little extra guidance.

And, I still listen to Sinead O’Connor.

(Teachers-Pt. 2, continuing tomorrow. And, believe me, there are some good ones coming)

*

 

 

 

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Memory Problems

03 Thursday Mar 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in My Menu, Seeking Life Now

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Tags

Childhood, Divorce, Loss, Memory, Sadness

*

Memories constantly fool us, much more than I think most people would realize or admit. Memories that we carry with us from childhood are particularly tricky because our brains were less developed and time can drastically change memories.

I have many memories from childhood and each of them I hold onto knowing that what I remember and what the reality was may be two wildly different things.

I recently had a revelation of one such memory that brought-about this approach and encouraged me to never fully trust my recollection of events, or anyone else’s for that matter.

When my parents were splitting-up I remember going to family counselling. I don’t recall how many times we attended, but to me it seemed like once. It may have been more.

As we sat in the room with its professional grey, muted tones, and uncomfortable furniture, there were a lot of words being said and as a child I struggled to fully grasp what was going on.

My world was spiraling out of control and all that I had known was crumbling around me but my little brain was not able to process it all and separate what was happening between my parents from what was happening to me.

During this meeting my Dad said something that, for over 20 years I believed he had said directly to me:

‘I will never love you like I love her.’

What I heard: “I don’t love you anymore.”

In my mind, my Dad just told me that he doesn’t love me. Or, at least, that he loved someone more, which meant I wasn’t good enough-I could never measure up.

This moment in time changed my life forever.

It’s no wonder that my relationship with my Dad has been difficult. I would struggle during our weekends with him because I had these words playing over and over in the back of my mind.

It wasn’t until the past year when I was on the phone with my Mom and she mentioned that time that my Dad had told her that he would never love her like he loved his new partner that it all became clear.

He had never said it to me. It had nothing to do with me. That wasn’t how he felt about me.

I instantly felt such a great sadness for all those years that had been lost because of a misunderstood experience as a child that evolved into a destructive and heartbreaking memory.

As I grew up, I had held onto the memory of being told I was not good enough, not lovable, not important and it has been a memory that has shaped who I am today.

That is time I can never get back.

I often wonder how different my life may have been if someone had been able to set it straight so many years ago.

I always wish I could have that time with my Dad again, to be able to go back and have a relationship with him without that destructive memory getting in the way. To be able to grow up without feeling like I needed to constantly prove myself as being worthy of love or good enough to love and being able to enjoy just being loved.

Because, I know he loves me.

Love exists despite the pain, despite the sadness, despite the sad memories and lost time.

And, from this point forward I will go through life with the words of Marcel Proust forefront in my mind:

“Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.”

And I will be a little more careful with my memories.

*

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‘The Adventures of Tom and Huck’

27 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in All Posts, Seeking Life Now

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Brothers, Childhood, Divorce, Donut, Innocence, Neglect, Summer, Trouble

*

I was between the ages of 7 and 9 when my parents were divorcing. I remember this time as a mixture of freedom and neglect. We seemed to have very little parental guidance, control or presence in our lives.

While this meant that we could pretty much do whatever we wanted, it also meant we often didn’t have anyone taking care of us. While all of this was happening I rarely saw my eldest brother, who was 8(ish) years older than me at the time, while my other brother (4ish years older) seemed to become my entire universe.

He and I used to ‘skip’ school together, steal toys and food from stores, break into places, go swimming, eat candy (we had bought with money we stole from our Mom) and bike around town getting into trouble wherever we could.

I’m not sure I felt this at the time, but when I think back on those days I always think of them as sort of ‘the adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn’ chapter of my life.

I remember the first summer after ‘the split’ being a hot one. My brother and I spent a lot of time at the lake and along the river. There were always houseboats docked along the river that were of great interest and intrigue to us. We would lay around on a nearby dock observing them until we sure it was safe, and then we would sneak on.

These weren’t expensive, fancy houseboats. They were the kind you could picture floating down the Mississippi on a humid summer day. We would imagine we were setting sail to wonderful, exotic places. And pretend that we were far away from our troubles.

We were caught twice. The first man who caught us was angry and unforgiving. He treated us like we were annoying, little, creatures (which, I guess we were) and kicked us off his boat.

The second man was much more patient. He expressed to us, in a kind but firm manner, that we were in the wrong and then showed us around his boat before kicking us off and making sure we understood that we were never to do it again.

On one of our more particular naughty days, we ‘skipped’ school and rode around town on our bikes taking air pressure caps off vehicle tires. I have no idea why we thought of doing this. We collected, what seemed like, hundreds of those little, black caps.

When our Mother found the stash she was, understandably, livid. She made us bike around and return them all. Which, of course, we didn’t do. We disposed of the ‘evidence’ and went swimming.

I remember these days as also being the days of ‘the empty fridge’. I have vivid memories of coming home from school at the end of the day, so hungry, opening the fridge and literally seeing nothing but a bottle of vodka.

But, we usually had a loaf of bread and, for some reason, a bag of icing sugar. This is when we created the first ever ‘microwave bread donut’!

Microwave Bread Donut

Recipe: slice of white bread, bag of icing sugar

Cooking Method: microwave slice of bread for 10 seconds, or until hot.

Roll hot slice of bread into a ball.

Place the ball of bread in icing sugar bag. Seal bag and shake well.

Open bag, consume ‘donut’.

This year is also the first time I remember my eldest brother, who is now an Executive Chef, cooking.

He would make us Kraft Dinner and pancakes and try to show us how to do things and get us to help. We were not very easy to manage. We would try to get the pancakes to stick to the ceiling, like we’d seen in cartoons and fling forkfuls of KD around like we were having an “Ernest Goes to Camp” kind of food fight.

I’m amazed after his experiences with his first, unruly, sous chefs that he still went ahead and pursued his cooking career. I’m pretty sure we helped him first discover his passion for the kitchen. Though, he’d probably say otherwise.

This time of life is full of fun stories, mischief, loss of innocence, pain, sadness, love and complexity.

This is only the beginning of the unraveling of my story.

*

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People Pleaser

20 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by Heather Irwin in Uncategorized

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Tags

Approval, Choice, Disappointment, Divorce, Fear, Freedom, freethinking, Invisible, Mistakes, People Pleaser

*

“If you think you can get away with it, you can.”

That’s what my brother said to me many years ago when I saw a girl wearing green camo-style khakis and a blue top and said “I’d never be able to wear that”.

I had been raised with many “to do’s” and “not to do’s” of fashion: never wear horizontal stripes, they make you look fat; white should never be worn after labor day; and, of course, “blue and green should never be seen”.

So, on this particular day when I was looking longingly at this girl who looked great, seemed comfortable and exuded confidence, his words rocked me to my core.

‘I can wear what I want?’

This question, of course, was just a shadow of the deeper struggle going on: ‘I want to be this, but I feel forced to be this .’

I grew-up as a person who wanted to please everyone – a trait that still hangs around my neck like a boulder the size of Texas. I hate letting people down. I hate not living-up to expectations. I hate making mistakes. I hate upsetting people.

So, it has been a pretty huge learning curve for me in life to learn that, no matter how much I try to avoid it, I am going to do some, or all, of it many, many, many times.

Sometimes I feel like I missed the lesson on ‘how to think for yourself’ that everyone else got in life. It’s not that I don’t have my own thoughts, I certainly do, but I only allow them out into the world if it means that it’s going to please people. If I think that it will upset people, I generally will keep it to myself.

This is a huge problem.

It leaves me feeling invisible a lot of the time. I’m afraid to be myself for fear of disappointing people.

I’m not sure when it all started. It could have been when my parent’s divorced and I began to worry that it happened because I wasn’t good enough, or if I could only be perfect maybe I’d see my Dad more often; or when adults would tell me, a child, about their struggles and I felt it was my responsibility to take care of them and make them feel better; or in school when everyone is just trying to be accepted and fit-in so you do and say what you think your peers want. Most likely it’s been a combination of all of the above and more.

Wherever it started, it exists and it sucks.

The intention is to not let it exist here.

Memories will be shared, dreams will flow, imagination will run wild and life will forge forwards as it always does.

*

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