...Not with a Bang but a Whimper

Have you ever built up an event in your head; trying to imagine how it will go. Envisioning it, playing it out over and working yourself up into a state until the day of the event and it happens – the event just happens.

There is no trauma, no drama, just the event - more like a non-event compared to the one you have imagined, ad nausea, in your head.

Never experienced that? Ok, just me then?

Actually, it has happened to me twice this month.

The first time being the GWN event at the beginning of the month and the second being the anniversary of Beau's passing.

Don't get me wrong, for the latter, I got up, had a little cry and got on with my day, it wasn't until I was happily enjoying the evening in the company of a friend of mine when all of a sudden I was gripped with what I must imagine to be "survivors guilt".

I was having fun on the anniversary of the worst day of my life; I felt guilty, fought back the urge to get weepy and then reminisced with my friend, who just happened to be the awesome person who took the day off work on the day I had to have Beau put down. We joked about re-watching the horrible movie we went to the afternoon after Beau's passing. And then we moved on with our evening. Fitting, since I have, to some degree, moved on with my life.

I don't know why I build up events in my head, working myself into a fit well before the day of the event. Why I feel it necessary to fill certain event with such black forethought and dread

Ah, yes, so much for Promoting Positivity.

But it’s not just potentially negative situations I build up in my head. I saw a musical last night that everyone in my acquaintance, that had seen it, raved about how good it was; so naturally by the time I went to see it, I had great expectations of a fabulous show and, once again, it was less than what I had imagined.

Once again, the Universe is busy trying to teach me something I seem, as yet, unwilling to learn. Stop getting so attached to outcomes, just let things happen.

As a famous character in a famous play once said – “Ay, there’s the rub”!

Haunted By Deams, Again and Still

I dreamt of Beau last night.

Sound familiar?

I've blogged about dreaming about Beau before.

I have dreamt about Beau since blogging about dreaming about Beau but, as the one year anniversary of his passing draws near, I feel compelled to blog about dreaming about Beau again.

I dreamt he was playing and wanting me to play with him. I knew it was a dream, I said as much and then decided, dream or not, playing with Beau was a fantastic idea - and so we played.

I don't remember how the dream ended, like I find with most dreams, it didn't end as much as faded away. I awoke and remembered - last night I played with Beau - now I am alone.

The pain is still palpable, but for better or for worse, less profound.

I suspect the dream is my subconscious' way of reminding me what my conscious mind keeps telling me not to remember - but telling yourself not to remember is like telling someone “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain” - immediately they look at the man.

I am trying not to think of the 21st of July as anything other than next Tuesday, so I keep telling myself; "Don't think of the 21st as the day Beau died" - yes, that will work, noooooo problem.

So here it is, now in print, the anniversary of Beau's death is less than a week away.

It is yet another first I must endure. A little more significant that most, I suppose, but still, like the first time I went on vacation since... or the first time my parents visited since... or the first Canada Day since... I guess it too shall pass but still it is different. It is the anniversary of the day I made the hardest decision of my life. It was the day my heart broke completely in two.

The tears are flowing quite readily now... I had thought that I had gotten over the spontaneous water-works that accompanied thinking about Beau, apparently not.

I was hoping this blog would provide me with some profound solace; some deep life lesson that I could use as a growth-medium. But nothing so profound is found.

The bottom line is: I still miss him, I still think about him, I still cry for him.

I still think he was an awesome dog - I still think he was irreplaceable.

So I am still without a four-footed companion; still haunted by him, slowly learning how to embrace playing with the phantom; still learning how to find comfort in his absence.

Positivity

When he said the word - Positivity - I didn't think it was actually a word. He countered with "Negativity is a word, so..."

I suppose it would stand to reason that positivity would be negativity's antonym. How telling is it that I only recognise negativity as a word and not positivity?

This was a few weeks ago now, and I didn't really think much more about it, until about a week ago when a work colleague told me a story of how she locked her keys in her car at the gas station that morning. She was almost laughing as she told it. Her reaction; call someone to come unlock it and go get a hot tea and relax.

I thought of what my reaction would most likely have been; something akin to an emotional train wreck (a complete emotional meltdown followed by lingering embarrassment for getting so worked up over it); so in other words; a typical response for me - unfortunately.

I think KT Tunstall got me pegged: “Miniature disasters and minor catastrophes / Bring me to my knees / Well I must be my own master / Or a miniature disaster will be / It will be the death of me”

I have known for years that I need to remove the Aura of Negativity that I have established and that now follows me around like Pigpen’s dirt cloud, the issue has always been – HOW?

I wonder if it is partially the need for me to make a paradigm shift and instead of trying to rid myself of my negative aura, if I should, instead be trying to establish an Aura of Positivity.

I need to try and learn from those around me that seem unphased by small setbacks, miniature disasters and minor catastrophes.

I guess the trick will be to work at fostering Positivity and in doing so, with any luck, it will displace the Negativity.

Oh great, that makes me think of another song (by Harold Arlen & Jonny Mercer) “You've got to accentuate the positive / Eliminate the negative / Latch on to the affirmative / Don't mess with Mister In-Between”

It might be a bit trite, I know it’s not going to be that easy; but I suppose it makes more sense to attempt to focus on what you want, instead of focusing on what you want to get rid of.

So, Producing Positivity – my new objective!

#53, You Amaze Me!

Early in the ride, I saw her, out in front of me. She stood out for two reasons; firstly, she was on a pink bike, secondly (and I am partially ashamed to admit this) she was a reasonably heavy-set woman in amongst a myriad of more athletically-built individuals. I admit it, I judged her.

We had just completed a two kilometre swim and were in the early stages of a 90 kilometre ride that preceded a 21 kilometre run which made up the third part of the event known as The Great White North Triathlon (GWN). Still shedding lake water we had swapped paddling for pedalling and were working our legs like pistons as we made our way along the highway. My initial thought was, "gee, she beat me out of the water" (ah, Ego - thanks for coming along - the event wouldn't be the same without you).

I had her in my sights and began to gain ground on her. As I got closer I could see her race number - #53. I caught up to her and passed her, egotistically thinking to myself; “Well, at least I can pass one person on the bike.” Not being as strong a cyclist as I’d like to be, I generally get passed, on the bike leg, by what seems to me like half the entrants of the GWN, so I took extra perverse delight in passing at least SOMEONE on the bike portion.

The delight was short-lived however, as about 5k later, #53 passed me. And so it began, the pedal-powered leap-frogging; I pass #53, #53 passes me, back and forth, back and forth. At one point she cheerily declared how much fun she was having passing me and having me pass her. I grumbled that I was not enjoying it as much (my Ego was taking it as a personal affront).

To bolster itself up, my Ego began saying things like – “once we get to Heartbreak Hill, we’ll leave her behind. She weights about 60 lbs more than you do, physics must be on your side; you must be able to climb more easily than she can. Once we turn into the head wind, you’ll be faster than she’ll be.”

Though I did beat her up the hill (after she flew past me down the hill – physics proving right for once on the ride) she did manage to pass me while we rode into the headwind; thus, pummelling my Ego into little bits leaving it broken and bloody somewhere around the 75k mark; the Universe once again attempting to teach me the danger of hubris.

So with my legs and Ego smarting, I kept pumping the pedals towards the ever closer end of the bike leg while watching the ever shrinking form of #53. It occurred to me that though her ability to beat me annoyed me, I had to admire her. She was considerably heavier than the average competitor and yet, there she was, working hard and enjoying herself. When I weighed by heaviest about 7 years ago (about 40 pounds more than I do now) I wouldn’t have considered taking on a Half-Iron Triathlon – heck I wouldn’t consider putting on a bathing suit.

She became both my nemesis and my inspiration. She was awesome.

I passed her, for the last time, soon after I started the run. I saw her a couple of times during the run (as the run course doubles back on itself three times) and cheered her on; “Way to be 53!”

I had a reasonable run, and in the end I had had a respectable race despite the fact that my training had been as focused as a racoon in a room full of shiny objects (in other words – all over the place – sporadic and undisciplined).

I waited around for #53 to finish; for some reason I wanted to cheer her across the finish line. When she had finished, we hugged and went our separate ways.

I was both humbled and bolstered by meeting #53. No doubt she had to work harder than I did, not only on race day but also with all the sweat equity she put into her training. She didn’t let her size be any sort of limiter on what she could accomplish. For that reason, and because she kicked my butt during the ride, I just have to say: #53, you amaze me!