Unglued

If you have ever done Preschool Crafts with me or Scrapbooked with me long into the night, you are well aware that I have issues when it comes to adhesives. This one time I was a scrap night with my pals and it was long past midnight. I was so frustrated with some letters I was using. I had applied double sided tape to the letters, and after hours of cutting I had lost the letter I needed most. Could not find it anywhere. Looked under the table, cleaned up my spot, went through the trash…nothing. My friend looked at me with that expression you save for someone who tried hard but never quite gets it. You know what I mean – that awkward kid who just wants to be cool but never will. She had sad eyes and a sympathetic smile as she reached over and peeled an alphabet letter from my hair.

It had become stuck in my curls – forever lost had it not been for the keen eagle eyes of my friend.

I have been known to glue things together that needed to be separate, this list includes my fingers, left nostril and a lock of hair to my eyelid.

I am adhesive challenged.

Ironic.

It’s Ironic because I am typically the glue that holds things together.

My friend had made this comment to me the other day. He said reading some of my stuff is scary because he knows I am holding everything together like glue.

True.

I am the Krazy Glue in most situations waiting or rather wanting to be rescued.

The thing is, I fancy myself as Princess Elizabeth. The Great Robert Munsch Heroine, The Paper Bag Princess who rescues the prince and then dumps him because he is a jerk and she lives happily every after.

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Hmmm.

I have been doing a lot of rescuing lately. When I say lately I mean the past year.

I sat back and took stock of the gluing I had been doing and how well it was working. Typical me fashion, it was holding well, but not in the correct placement. I was feeling the stress of a situation that I didn’t really like, didn’t ask for, nor did I particularly care if this situation continued. So why was I keeping it glued together?

Great question. I asked myself the same thing.

I held this together to see if I could do it. Did I accomplish it? Yes.

I held this together to see if I liked it. Did I? No – it clashed with my values.

I held it together to ease the strain of others. Did it help? Yes.

Do I regret it? No. I learned a ton about myself, others and realized I have a set of beliefs that cannot be swept aside for cash.

I like that about me.

I unglued myself today. It felt like the right thing to do. It was hard doing it, admitting to ungluing. But it was done in such away that bridges are not burning down around me and respect was gained. In the end I did it for me and I know I did the right thing.

I am going to sleep well for the first time in 6 months. Why? Because I rescued myself.

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Trust the Journey

AC366 Back

I have been drifting lately.

I went for my annual MRI and lots of ‘stuff’ surfaces while I am alone with my thoughts for two hours. Perhaps I should do that more often….be alone with the thoughts. My busy life prevents me from dwelling too much, then suddenly I need to stop and think and it leaves me in an unsettled state of mind.

When I go in for my MRI, they need to get a clear picture of my brain and my acoustic neuroma. To do that, they place a cage over my head and attach it firmly to the bed while they roll me into the tube. I’m not going to lie, it isn’t at all pleasant. I suffer from claustrophobia and tried to keep myself calm enough to not have an anxiety attack. My mind was reeling between thoughts – none of them were positive in the way that made me feel great about my journey. In fact, some thoughts were actually harmful to my psyche.

I had spoken in great length to an incredible friend earlier in the week. We talked about my frustration with people constantly telling me I will be fine.

Dear People: YOU DON’T KNOW THAT. Telling me I am fine makes me feel like my feelings are inconsequential. My feelings just are. I cannot control them, they exist in a way that cannot be altered. I don’t like it, but I have learned to accept my feelings for what they are and not numb them. I know you mean well, and are trying to reassure me, but it just makes me angry.

There is a group of cancer survivors that come to my place of work every Monday night. They are part of a run/walk group that support each other and understand their situations in ways people around them just don’t. i have learned plenty from them. One gal in particular talked about not sharing details about her cancer because she didn’t want to alarm anyone, instead, it made things worse. People worried more about her.

I struggle with how much to share. I grew up with people telling me to stop being so mellow dramatic.

Ouch.

So how much is too much?

I cry on my own a lot. I blame other situations to ease the fear of the one I am facing.

So what exactly am I facing and why does it scare the crap out of me?

Well, here we go.

My Fear for all to see, judge and dissect.

  1. I fear my bran being altered in a huge way. I notice changes already, like not being able to recall nouns. Descriptors are fine, I can do that. Its like the door in my brain that holds all the nouns is locked. I can see it picture, word, image, but I cannot speak it. it evades me. Not every time, but enough that is scares me.
  2. I fear my intelligence vanishing. This part may be mellow dramatic, but it is a real fear. I never felt smart. Ever. I have learned and read studies that the more intelligent you are, the less you think you are. Which is why there are shows like JackAss. Those people are not bright, but are POSITIVE they are. With intelligence comes a humbling notation that you do not know everything, sure I tell everyone I do, but I don’t. Going back to University really proved a lot to me. I am smart, capable and understand a whole lot more than I give myself credit for. It scares me that I will lose this. Although sometimes, it might be nice to be dumb enough not to worry about things. It sounds peaceful.
  3. I fear my personality changing.  I like who I am. Whether its a real fear or not, I don’t want to be different unless I make those changes. I like being in control of who and what I am, the thought of a tumour being in control makes me angry.
  4. I fear I will look like an old person. I am 47 years old. There is a real possibility of me losing the strength in my face, making me look like I had a stroke. Apparently I am vain. I have never felt pretty, or desired…ever. But what I have I embrace. A lot of damage has been done to me over the course of my lifetime. I let men make judgements, and them believed them. I am at the point in my life right now where I am not over it entirely, but over it enough to say I look damn good for someone pushing 50. Please don’t make me look different until I am ready.
  5. I fear I will not be available for my children. My work has taken me away from them. This upsets me more than the tumour making me unavailable. But a real truth is all four fear reasons I listed above could make become emotionally unavailable or worse, physically unavailable. Death isn’t so much a reality, but vegetablism is. If that happens, please unplug me.  I trust my surgeon but anyone can have a bad day. Brain surgery is a big deal and I am not ready for it…now or likely ever. Thankfully I am not in the position to have it…yet.

 

Over the past 5 years, I am not going lie, my life has been difficult. I recognize other people’s lives haven’t been a cakewalk  either. Everyone has their own struggles. I do know this, I am not the same person I was 5 years ago. If you told me I would be standing here with the circumstances that surround me, I would never have believed it.

Yet here I am.

There is one thing I know when everything else seems so lost to me.

Trust the Journey.

It all seems to work out in the end.

I’m just not at the end yet.

 

 

It’s all for charity…

The Edmonton Tourist:

I am incredibly proud to have been a co-founder of this foundation! We aren’t your typical board tho, we lean to the side of the rediculous. Which is likely why we act before thinking. This is our next great adventure! Please consider donation and have your name entered for a pair of running shoes. New ones of course, unless you call dibs on my old ones. -Robyn

Originally posted on Running Down a Dream 23's Blog:

Last week someone (Matthew Thomas) over at Team DAWS, the charity dedicated to ridding the planet of the horrible genetic disease known as Spinal Muscular Atrophy or SMA for short, came up with the crazy idea of challenging myself and a friend of mine (Mitch Brannen) to a little fundraiser for DAWS to raise some cash for a good cause.

The Challenge:

This is a very simple event.

Assuming a certain threshold of fundraising is met Mitch and I will dress up and run as Anna and Elsa (From Frozen…but you knew that) during the Walt Disney World Marathon weekend if people donated money.

After the fundraising goals are met, we will be dressed in full costumes that are being designed including a matching tutu or skirt. But who could forget complimenting makeup and a full wig to ensure authenticity…jeesh.

Donate money today and see us run around…

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MY NAME IS: yeah…not very popular

I lamented about Coke not ever putting my name on their can. I got over it.

Well, I pretended to. I went on holidays to Disneyland and searched high and low for my name spelled correctly on a SOMETHING…no luck.

I get home, check the mail, and I have a surprise package in the mail!

WOOOHOOO! I love surprises, except when I don’t and that is another story.  But this surprise came from New York via Ireland.

My running/book pal Tammy from Jibber Jabber went to Ireland and discovered a name plate with my name spelled the proper way! Here is proof:

 

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So mom…where ever you are, I am happy the Europeans – well – Irish folk, think my name is worthy of printing it and selling it.

I forgive you mom.

 

Thanks Tammy – you DO win :)

I see Susie and Bobby and Timmy and Mary…. but never Robyn

I am invisible.

I grew up with a name that no one ever had and people often told me they hated my name…Thanks?

My mom read Angel Unaware by Dale Evens before I was born. She loved the book and named me after the baby Robin.

In the 60’s, there sure weren’t a lot of girls named Robyn. I watched Romper Room every day hopping Miss Susan would look in the mirror and see me. I would sit up close to the TV and say Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease say my name.

It never happened. Not once. Ever.

Thus began my years of hating my name.

My first Husband, whom I fondly refer to as Idiot Stick, told me he hated my name.  Nice….Jerk. But the good thing is I have met plenty of other Jerks since him so he seems normal now.

My point being….Romper Room broke my heart.

Now Coke is doing it to me.

 

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Ouch.

My Pal Tammy from over at Jibber Jabber Happenstance  is in Ireland and posted this on Facebook.

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Orla gets a coke and so does Eweline but ROBYN DOESN”T?????

How is this even fair?

I could never get a key chain, or a mug. Never was there a pencil with my name on it. Now Coke is mocking me.  Ewelina is a regular name? Nice Coke…just nice.

My life sucked enough as a kid,  because of this now I need to take matters into my own hands.

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When I was 4, I became Danger Girl. I know that speaks to my sense of self. I was not Batgirl or Spiderman, I created my OWN Super Hero Name. I was the hero in my own life. I took control and I lead my friends to adventure and mishaps. I still rock that confidence today with some minor exceptions. Girls bring me down.

I hated the girls who got the boys. HATE them. I never played into that game of whatever it is they did that made a boy’s head turn. I was that gal who talked hockey smack, smoked cigars and played double dog dare. It still hurts a bit today. I always used my sense of self to pull up my boots (wellies) don the terry towel and safety pin and have an adventure of a life time. I was Ellie from Up. The fun kid. Lonely, but fun. Perfectly fine in my imagination and preferred it because people were nice and never hurt me.

I never had that inseparable other person who was my other half. The person who gets me. Does everyone get one of those or is it just a myth?

At any rate, SCREW YOU COKE and ROMPER ROOM. I have my imaginary side kick who loves me unconditionally. Who would move mountains for me. Who likes popsicles and will play Double Dog Dare. I don’t need you to call my name.

I am Danger Girl.

Hear me Roar.

And payback is sweet.

Here is Mom’s Coke can:

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Hey Universe! Thanks for the love!

IMG_3066

IMG_3066There is a lot of crud and crappiness going on in the lives of my friends and other people who surround me.

Me included.

I have been knee deep in a pity party for two this week and before that, I was alone in pitiness. No running is hard for me and makes me cranky.
I miss the morning long run quiet through the ravine. I haven’t been alone with my thoughts for quite some time and it is beginning to show.

I am an introvert by nature. Meaning I need alone time to recharge my batteries. Introvertedness does not mean shy. I am a looooooooooong way from shy. I have enough brainy confidence to run a country – I may suck at it but who cares? I have the balls to do it.

I lack in confidence when it comes to sense of physical self. Running was fixing that. It firmed and toned and cleared the head. IT made me feel sexy and fit. Any woman knows that feeling sexy makes you sexy. I have come a long way from the massive me. Yesterday an old chum popped into the store and I hadn’t seen her for about 5 years – long before my transformation began. She couldn’t  believe how much I changed. I have changed…. A LOT! I have gone through a self depreciating time because of my lack of thinness. We all know thinness = hot and sexy right? Wrong.

WEll….. due to a pity party I was having, I was not feeling all to great about self. I think this streak began April 2011. The beginning of the darkest time in my life. Heart broken, pathetic, and depressed. This was me:

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I take a long time to heal.

I pick at a scab and examine it over and over.

Running was getting me through the bad bits. Okay….so was medication. But I was getting through it. I had reached a point where it really didn’t matter if I felt like crap because I could go for a run and feel fantastic.

I have run MAYBE 15 times all year.

One of them was the Calgary Half Marathon. It’s cool for me to run a half without a lot of training and still PR. That boosted the sense of self BIG TIME. Now I am anxious to run AND train to see how great I can do.

I am proud of my progress dammit! I have lost the size of a 16 year old girl. Imagine a 16 year old girl glued to your backside. Yep….I lost that.

I am not finished.

But I am missing the sexy mojo running brings. My girlfriends tell me I look great. The Hubs does too. But hearing it and feeling it are two different things. I have been slammed down by fake friends. These very same fake friends who feel crappy about themselves and used me to make themselves feel better. These women disgust me to my core. I am not judging them for their actions, I pity them. I am disgusted with myself for letting ME feel crappy about me so they could feel better.

It’s been a really long time since I woke up and felt great.

Well… It happened today.

I woke up.

My hair was awesome.

My skin is all soft and shiny – less wrinkles than other women my age.

My girls are perky and SMALL WOOOT!!!

I felt fab! It showed from head to toe. Rockin a smaller size jean. My toes still look great from my summer pedi, so the sandals were fab! I was smiling from the inside out.

Then it happened.

I looked down in the alley and found a Tim Card. I decided to treat myself to breakfast. I pull up to Timmy’s and order breakfast and a coffee. $5.09 was the total. I handed the gal my new card. $5.09 on the card. THANK YOU UNIVERSE! THIS MADE MY DAY!!!

It was like someone felt sorry for me and decided to treat me to a bit of kindness. I really needed it after the last few days.

Then it happened AGAIN!

I won $100 Future shop card! WOOT!

I went and bought a new keyboard for my Mac – a proper size one, not the mini one you get with the Computer. And blew the rest on iTunes cards.

I was smiling big by this time.

Then it HAPPENED AGAIN!

I got a Starbucks card from a friend who thanked me for something I did. I went and bought me and Chatterbox a coffee. The EXACT AMOUNT that was on the card.

Seriously, I know these are just ‘things’ but sometimes its the little things that can turn around a feel or even the whole day.

So here is to those fake friends who fish for information. Who hurt others while only thinking of themselves. Your life will still be sad while mine is awesome. I have just decided to turn you off.

Thank you Universe for sending some love my way!! New Day, New Life, Better Choices.

It’s all good.

 

 

 

It’s a HOT ONE

I have a little Santana playing in the background. For the record, the sexy piece of music out there. Meanwhile Edmonton is roasting hot. Feels like 40C because of humidity. Seriously? I’ll take it because I am homesick for my Hawaiian vacation. My family went off to celebrate the last of the great adventures with the kiddos ( I doubt it but it IS the last time I am footing the bill). We celebrated graduations and life progressing. Surviving difficult moments and escaped from Edmonton’s frigid weather of 30C. At Ko Olina on Oahu, temps reached +40C. It was fabulous with the trade winds blowing. I never wanted to leave, but my family dragged me kicking and screaming on the plane. I am still not speaking to them.

Everything about this vacation was charmed, from running into my brides made at the WestJet counter (resulted in being upgraded to PLUS) to being upgrade to a villa at Aulani (where we stayed on the Island).

Of course we stayed at a Disney Resort…hello – its me!

Disney has a special way with details and customer service. At night time the trees twinkle with fairy dust (a magic trick by hanging crystals in trees and focusing spotlights on them) The sidewalks light up like EPCOT, the theme music in the background is always perfect but the best thing they could contrail was this:

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Every night that was the view from the beach.

I discovered I am impervious to sunscreen. With the sun directly overhead, this alabaster Canuck found the intensity too much. That didn’t stop me from sitting on the beach – in the shade – covered in 90 spf – under a towel. yet I still looked like this:

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Most of all this trip was filled with Volcano climbing, snorkelling, and site seeing with the occasional indulgent into racing and character greetings.

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I had the chance to experience things I had not done before, like wade into the ocean. I had always feared the sea, the waves being so powerful and overwhelming. I concurred that feeling this time and wished I could full on swim. Sadly, my surgery prevented me from full submersion.

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I went waist deep…not just ankle deep.

The draw back of this vacation, and perhaps it’s just me, but I found the food terrible. I have no idea why people rave about the food, perhaps dry tasteless food is awesome for them. But I couldn’t argue with the spectacular view nor the beverages.

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The highlight for me was being there with my ohana, a close second was doing NOTHING and tell ohana to ‘take off eh’ when they would ask things of me. I was selfish and self indulgent. This was the first mom trip for me where I behaved like this. I didn’t care who ate, when they ate, what they did or whether there were entertained. I still don’t know if they had a great time because I didn’t ask. Perhaps this me letting them grow up or perhaps its me taking responsibility of my self. Either way, BEST VACATION EVER.

My Mom is a Jerk

not really…

I am just sad.

I suppose I should explain how I came to this conclusion.

My mom has always held onto the dream of living in Europe. This year, my mom and dad sold up the house, ditched all their belongings and ran away to Europe. Now I suppose it isn’t unusual for retired folk to sell their home and live in a RV and travel North America. But you see, my parents aren’t really camping people. Mom is more of a rent a flat and assimilate with the culture kind of gal. Her idea of 5 star living is packing her electric frying pan and cooking eggs in the hotel.

She loves to cook.

She hates paying someone for delicious food.

I am not jealous of my parents, in fact I am so happy for them! So much so that I have started a travel blog to record their amazing 5 year adventure. Mom sends me photos and travel entries and I post them here:

Postcards From Everywhere

Feel free to follow the journey. Their life is somewhat of a comedy adventure. It never fails that something strange and odd will happen. Their very first day – it began…but I will let you read for yourself.

As I said, I am not jealous, I am sad for me. For the past 14 years I lived less than 2 blocks away from my mom. My kids would pop by when ever they missed her (daily). They would stop by to drink milkshakes with grandpa. Eat food at grandma’s that mom wouldn’t buy at home. Use the basement as a clubhouse or hangout with all their cousins. Walking over Christmas eve with the snow falling over head, or running past in the morning and smelling coffee coming from the kitchen. Even my dog Cap loved to visit and get a super duper belly scratch from his grandpa.

I will miss all of that.

When they left last week, I cried like they died. My kids were worried about me. My son asked if I was okay? No I am not okay! My mommy just ran away!!

I can only imagine the tears when Chatterbox decides to move to Vancouver in 2 years, or boy heading off for JPL in California one  day. Just shoot me now and get it over with.

I was sad for a long while then I got this in my email:

The Brandenburg Gate

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So I sent her MY view:

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Did I mention that my mom is a jerk?

 

 

 

That day I became became my own hero

Originally posted on Me and Mo:

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I did some things in the last 30 days that really amazed me.

  1. I took over the primary spot of managing at work, although temporary, I never excepted to be in this position. I have learned more about myself in a few shorts weeks than I thought possible. University was right, I am capable of so much more than I believed. It is a wonderful feeling to have the complete faith of those around you. I never had that in a work situation before. I like it.
  2. I fitness level is at a level that I didn’t believe to be possible and STILL carry around this kind of weight. I didn’t really train for the Calgary Half Marathon. The Trusty Steed tried to talk me out of running the half. saying I need to be careful, I might injure myself, I really need to evaluate the effects of recovery….blah, blah…

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I have a dog now

True Story.

Hef the Wonder Dog

 

It has been over 20 years since I have lived with a dog. I didn’t think I could after my beloved Sparky, but a couple of years ago…I started having ‘puppy pangs’

Kinda like when your biological clock starts ticking only different, obviously.

Last night My Chatterbox and I sat over dinner and discussed dog names.

We went through the gambit…funny, we only really picked boy names.

  1. Walter
  2. Watson
  3. The Captain – Cap
  4. The Doctor – Doc
  5. Mark Messier
  6. George Clooney
  7. Weasly if it was a ginger
  8. Prince – over MY DEAD BODY
  9. Cappuccino – Cap for short
  10. Capaletti – Cap for short
  11. Stormageddon Dark Lord of All
  12. Amelia Pond if it was a female – Pond for short as in “Come along Pond”

Watson won.

The next morning I had THE TALK with the hubs and asked why he was against the idea.

Apparently his biggest fears are :

  1. It will die one day and that sucks
  2. The hubs will do all the work
  3. Where will we put it when we go on holidays

All lame.

I think the biggest fear he had was falling in love and having his heart broken.

That is the problem with dogs. They are awesome.

I texted Chatterbox this morning – she was in bed. I do this to she if she is awake. The conversation went like this:

Me: You up?

CB: No

Me: Come downstairs, we need to talk.

CB: #$@%NGJ%M! fine

Then she came down stairs.

CB: What did I do, how much trouble am I in?

(I love that she assumes she is in trouble…so proud!)

Me: we are going to the SCARS adoption event today to pick out a dog to keep.

CB: SERIOUSLY? When are we leaving?

Me: 11:30

She vanished.

 

If you know my Chattbox, then you know that she is never on time for anything. This time she was ready and waiting.

We went to the adoption event and were interviewed. I filled out an application with questions like “if your pet was sitting on the sofa and you wanted him off, what would you do?” There was a lot of ‘What if” questions.

Having aRescue Dog was important to me. I like to rescue animals and humans. This guy was likely a an outside dog that fought for his own food. He acts like he isn’t allowed inside and positions himself as Alpha around other dogs. He is confident and affectionate with humans.

When we walked into the place, I saw him across the room. He looked me in the eye and wagged his tail. He was mine.

I talked to the host and she asked us what our lifestyle is like, then she introduced us to my dog.

Fate.

The Dog picks the Family.

He was on TV earlier that morning and lots of people wanted him. They picked us. ChatterBox took him outside with the Foster Mom. She picked us too. Then she cried because

  1. She will miss him
  2. He found a good fit

We were granted a sleep-over. Apparently this rarely happens. The Foster Mom will come tomorrow to finalize the adoption process if she approves of the conditions.

His Name is Hefner. He won’t entertain the idea of Watson, but will come to Hef.

He likes to sit in my son’s spot.

This might be a problem, my kid is Sheldon and that’s his spot. There may be some Alpha stuff going on when my boy gets home from his trip.

Oh ya son, we got a dog.