No Pain No Gain?

To feel no pain. A litany lived by many. Stay safe, we think.
We might try to hide. But pain rebirths itself in every cell of our bodies from time to time. We have no choice, it decides when to enter our lives.

Portlandia, Portland Oregon

We tend to hear the word pain and feel that it is associated with loss. Rivers of tears, darkened nights, the boundless echoes of thunder. The Unknown, that scary, uncomfortable place. But what of the other kind of pain?

The one that delivers your child, the breaking of your heart with utter joy when you witness the sunshine bouncing off the new hairs after chemo, the expanding of your dinner table as a loved one introduces someone who makes them sing with delight? Pain, yes. Because behind this feeling you know you are given a gift, and that someday it could be taken away. It is the pain of recognition that changes you.

So how do we hold on to the sheer expanse of those special moments?

This “painless woman” might be brave in her surgery but would she also attempt starting a new business or leaving an abusive husband? Physical pain hurts but emotional and mental pain can destroy. Would this person who doesn't fear a fall on slippery streets or tackling a half-marathon also be brave enough to assert herself in the workplace?
Are some of us just wired to feel less pain?
But like most of us, notice as you run through your experiences of pain. Most pain we feel is because we didn't get something we wanted. Often due to love. People are known to betray us in the most hurtful ways. Then there is the pain from an accomplishment. We might sacrifice hard hours of alone time in our side hustle to find that it turns into more. And then it might lead to joy, eventually.

The Doors We Walk Through - Retirement Memories

on my retirement...

Have you ever thought about how many doors you walk through?

Doors that open to your future and doors you slam behind you. Doors that bring great promise and others best left untouched.

Tomorrow, I walk through a new door. A door that allowed me to create a safe haven when life was not going well, a door that gave me the means to build a life that I wanted.

Within those many doors, I met the most dedicated and diligent people. Folks who gave more with their patience and belief that they could inspire. Many held their lives together by threads as they too went through the unimaginable. And yet they continued to show up each day and be the best that they could be. They often offered to others what they themselves did not receive.

So it is with some bittersweet memories that I walk through my door tomorrow, as I hang up a career and hand it off to those who can be responsible to honour the promise we all made at some point to ourselves. Our futures are untold, but we can make a difference. I believe it and I hope that you do too.

Do you know that feeling of forgetting what was distinctly clear a minute ago? A word at the tip of your tongue? Something sort of important you wanted to share with a family member? Then, poof, it vanishes! They say that walking back through a doorway can help you remember.

As I face my doorway tomorrow, I have re-lived the many others I have walked through during my career. I have suddenly recalled long-forgotten incidents and heard the laughter of working late nights and eating pizza at our desks. Of fumbled new protocols and crashing websites that held us hostage for hours. Of small things that seemed so drastic then eventually waned in importance. Silly things, big changes, chilling hours, all marched along, lined up, then disappeared.

I will hold on to the smiles, the sharing, and hope that some of my words created an idea in someone. Believe in a good world but question when you doubt. Stay strong, with practice it gets easier. Work hard for your dream, you are the only one who can do it.

Make each day count.

Walking through a doorway to retirement. (Tweet This)

Each doorway you walk through brings you life. (Tweet This)

Home Ec. Lesson in Simplicity

Her name was Donna Smolak. It’s been more than 45 years so I guess it’s alright to say her name. She was my home economics teacher when I was 12, and she taught me a valuable lesson.

She didn’t believe me.

I’ve thought about her over the years, at the time of course I did not know to be offended although I did know that I had been taught a very powerful lesson in simplicity. Let’s face it, it was a Catholic school in the 60s. You didn’t question much.

My mother was a wonderful seamstress. She was particular and she had high standards. She thought it was appropriate to teach me to sew when I was about eight. When I was scheduled in Miss Smolak’s class, I had already been sitting at a sewing machine and cutting fabric for 4 years. One of my biggest accomplishments was that I could hem quite beautifully. The stitches were small, consistent and almost invisible. They did not pucker, dance lazily across the seam or break.

After completing our very own cross-stitched pastel coloured apron, we progressed to making a dress. Mine was blue, it was short-sleeved and had little multi-coloured flowers. It was so beautiful. The hand stitched hem passed my mother’s approval and I confidently took it in for marking.

Except there was one problem, Miss Smolak didn’t believe that I had hemmed it myself. Our small class all stood around the wooden table that we used. We each had a turn to speak about our dress and then it was my turn. My blue flowered dress was just so darn cute! It lay on the table as if it could take wings and dance away in a breeze.

Miss Smolak turned my dress to the other side and looked at the hem. Her eyes bore into me and she said “you didn’t do this”. It was not a question. She picked at the knot that I had been taught by my mother to hide inside the seam and she pulled. Half the hem thread was left in her hands, the other girls gasped. Then she said “do it again, now”. I was a shy little girl, but I knew that she was wrong. I picked up the perfectly matching thread from the grocery bag I had proudly carried to school that held my dress that morning. And I hemmed. Again.

I don’t remember what happened after that. I don’t remember if Miss Smolak had the courtesy to apologize. I was too young, teachers in those days did no wrong and could do anything.

What I learned that day and have been witness to many times since is this. Some people will not believe you, ever. They will not recognize or acknowledge your skills, your determination, your courage, your talents, your honesty, or your heart. You will never know why and you don't need to. Stay away from them and be your best self. You don't need to say a word. Simplicity is your strength.

If you know this Miss Smolak or you have your own, have faith. The world is full of good people, be there for each other, rely on each other, count on each other and look for each other in this busy world. Spread the good and don’t worry.

Life Lessons learned through Simplicity. (Click to Tweet)

How do you respond to someone who doesn't believe you? (Click to Tweet)