Treat others the way you want to be treated...

Kris Doubledee, Winnipeg Free Press Photo

All week I have been inspired by Kris Doubledee, the Winnipeg Transit driver who stopped his bus in the middle of his shift, got off, and gave the shoes off his own feet to a barefoot man in downtown Winnipeg.

"I had to help him, anyone would have done it," he said in an interview with the Free Press.

Wow. Such a simple, yet heroic act of kindness.

I keep wondering if I would do something like this? I mean, I would like to say that this is something I would do without hesitation, but honestly I'm not sure that it is. In fact, as bad as this sounds, looking at the shoes on my feet right now, I know that I would have a hard time giving them to someone else, no matter what the circumstance. (I would lend them, perhaps. But I love these shoes...)

I know this sounds awful; it's a true testament to my character and to Doubledee's character. It's also a wake up call for me.

This omission and self-realization is enough to make me want to change things about myself. It should be a no-brainer that if I have the ability to help someone, whether it means outwardly giving them something tangible or giving them something intrinsic, I should. (This includes parting with my beloved shoes if I ever found myself in the same kind of situation as Doubledee.)

It seems to have become so easy to overlook other people in need, whether they are friends or strangers. But that's not the person I want to be. Am I desensitized? Am I bad person? Am I just selfish?

Last week I taught my four-year-old niece what the word 'respect' means. Since she just started nursery school, I wanted to make sure that she knew how to treat other people in a kind and compassionate way. I know I'm one of her role models and I know that she listens to me whole heartily.

"Treat others as you want to be treated." I told her.

Like the little sponge of knowledge that she is, she absorbed the message and we made a video. (We always make videos. We're both camera hams and it's our thing...)


 

Flash forward to today, and my selfish omission that I probably wouldn't give the shoes off my feet to someone in need, I feel like an absolute heel. (Pun intended.) That certainly isn't treating someone the way I would want to be treated. I'm teaching the kid values that I don't necessarily follow myself all of the time.

It's simple: Treat others as you want to be treated.

A four-year-old gets it, and so should I.

The funny thing about life, and people like Doubledee is that his good deed not only helped a man who was down and out, it also helped someone like me. I may never be in a situation where I will give someone the shoes off my feet, but I am sure that many opportunities to help people will be presented, and perhaps I will be a little more apt to recognize and respond to them.

PHOTO SOURCE: Winnipeg Free Press

The single gal's thoughts on boys and spaghetti...

I was making myself some spaghetti for dinner tonight; something I don’t do very often, as I’m usually the extra place-setting at somebody else’s dinner table, or if I’m not, I usually eat toast and anything not rotten and easy in my fridge. (Usually that is wine, diet Pepsi and maybe some kind of fruit...) 

So, back to the story: I was making spaghetti, and I pulled out this big pot that I never use. (Seriously, I don’t cook.) Instantly it reminded me of the guy I dated before the last guy; probably because he was the last person to actually use that big pot (three plus years ago) when he would cook us dinner.

I started to get all wistful and think of the short, immature relationship that ex-boyfriend (We’ll call him The DJ for the sake of not using real names...) and I had. 

“Awwwe, I miss The DJ, I wonder what he’s doing?” I thought to myself as I poured spaghetti sauce into the big pot. 

I came up with the bright idea that I should send him a message on Facebook or something, just to see what he’s up to, but quickly realized what I was doing: I don’t really miss The DJ. (No offence DJ, you’re cool, and I actually like you.) But, the only reason I even thought about The DJ is because I’m single, and I’m cooking myself a giant batch of spaghetti that I’ll never finish whilst imagining how great a night everyone else in the world, including The DJ, is having.

It’s a good thing I don’t have internet. Message aborted.

I got to thinking about the life of a single gal, and how hilarious it can be. -- I mean, don’t get me wrong, I hesitated putting this online for fear the the most recent ex will stumble upon it and laugh at me (or worse, feel sorry for me) for how much of a “train wreck” my life seems to be right now, considering that he’s happier than happy with the replacement. But, meh, it’s funny and I don’t really care (that much) what that guy thinks of me. 

Being single is funny. It can be awesome and pathetic all in the span of five minutes. While cooking for one, or trying to find something to do can be a challenge at times, the thoughts and experiences of that single gal life is hilarious.

“It’s Sunday night, who wants to drink a bottle of wine? Anyone? Hello?...”

My single girlfriends can probably attest to these awkward single gal moments when you Facebook creep the ex-boyfriends that don’t really have an emotional hold on you anymore, or when you think it would be a good idea to reach out, and establish contact. 

“What’s a little poke between former lovers? Maybe a text, just to see how he’s doing?!”

For the record, this is mostly never a good idea. The past is the past. 

I ate my spaghetti and laughed at myself for even thinking about messaging The DJ. (He’s the guy who told me he didn’t believe in love about six months into our relationship. I kinda figured, at that point, it wasn’t going to work...) I can only imagine that he is happy and wouldn’t even know how to respond (if at all) to an out of the blue message from me. 

Um, awkward. 

Ah well, There’s no real moral to the story. Rather, it’s just a glimpse into the way we (single girls) think sometimes. Most of us would never admit this to anyone, except maybe the girls over a couple glasses of wine, while we’re all taking turns one-upping each other on our most pathetic and humbling moments. (It’s a girl thing) But, this is the stuff that most of us pretend we’re better then. We’re not, we all do it. It’s funny. Own it.

Our little girl is growing up...

My little girl started school today.

OK, she's not mine per se; she's my niece, but we're close and I think of her as my own. I've never loved anyone (aside from her sister) as much as I love her. -- I know, I know, I'm not her mom. I don't pretend to be either. You'd be surprised how many parents seem to be offended when I make that statement. Often I am met with the: "It's not the same [kind of love]. When you have your own children you'll understand." OK, fine. I love Kennedy and Mia almost as much as you guys love your kids. Almost.

Sorry for the rant.

Anyway, the kid started nursery school this afternoon, and I got to be there, along with her mom and dad and Mia, as we walked her to school. It was probably one of my proudest moments as an auntie; seeing Kennedy enter into this new "big kid" chapter of her life.

I got to their place early, because I didn't want to accidentally miss anything. I helped Heather and Jay get the girls ready, and took lots of pictures of this milestone day. It was so nice to see how excited she was; she couldn't wait to finally get to school.

My oh my, how time flies.

I remember the night Kennedy was born; she was this little bean with the high-pitched cry, big pouty lips and blond hair. I couldn't believe how quickly I fell in love with her; here's this tiny little human, brand new to the world, and already she made me love her more than I'd ever loved anybody in my entire life. It was an incredible feeling. I was the first one (aside from my sister and Jay and the hospital staff) to hold her, and I knew that she was going to be auntie's little girl.

I've enjoyed every second of being Kennedy's auntie, even the trying times. Having her in my life, the way that Heather and Jay have allowed me to has been one of the greatest gifts anyone can ask for. She is such a special little girl; clever, kind, sensitive and very imaginative. It's hard to imagine what life was like before she was born. Honestly.

Today she starts nursery school, tomorrow it will be something else. Her world is only beginning to open up, and quite honestly she has the ideals and potential to do whatever she wants with her life. She's a kid which means that she's eager and willing to learn new things. As she grows, I hope she always holds onto that.

I love being an auntie, I'm really good at it. At this stage of my life, I'm not sure if I will ever have kids, it's all a matter of love and opportunity I guess-- If I met the right person at the right time of my life I would like to, but if I don't, it's not meant to be. I'm happy and feel extremely lucky to already have the two best little girls around. (Like I said, I feel like they're mine anyway...)

Kennedy: I'm proud of you kid, I can't wait to watch you through more milestones in your life.

Love,

Auntie S.

The Bon Jovi 'Always' moment...

So I've spent a great deal of summer hoping to have my  Bon Jovi 'Always' moment. You know the one; Jack Noseworthy (the hot blond guy in the video) realizes how badly he fucked up with Carla Gugino, and he's so messed up about it that he's sitting alone, tortured and shirtless, in his meager Spanish villa looking at old pictures of her. Memories of their relationship and his betrayal play over and over again in his head like a tragic love story, and after all that he sees a mirage of her at the foot of his bed that he tries to embrace, but she disappears and he is alone. Yeah. I was kind of hoping that was going to happen to the guy who burned me.

No really, don't judge me, I was really hoping that said fella was going to have some kind of grand epiphany about how much he loved and needed me, because that's the kind of "love" I thought we had. No really.

Now, like anyone who goes through a breakup, I was a disaster. Verbal diarrhea about him and us spewed from my mouth at every opportunity my friends would give me to talk. I tried my hardest not to make my breakup and feelings evident on social media. (I mean hey, I kept the relationship on the down-low, I should be able to do the same with the breakup, right? No. Thanks to a good friend who called one morning to ask about it, I realized just how obvious I was.) And I tried to just be OK, even when I wasn't. I'm human, I was heart-broken.

I spent the first few weeks of my breakup hoping he would leave an "I'm sorry, you're the only one I've ever loved and I'll die without you" note on my car; or that he'd be waiting outside my apartment door with flowers and an apology-- Maybe even wearing a tuxedo, with a crumpled, tear-soaked picture of me in his inside pocket that he'd spent the entire breakup gazing at, feeling empty. He'd probably even be gently crying because he felt so bad about hurting me...

Delusional, yes. But I only kind of believed (and have believed with every single breakup I've ever had) that something like that might happen. I mean really, you guys don't understand; this relationship was different...He was different...We had all these plans...He'll regret it... No? Shit.

That, my friends, is a cocktail of deep seeded emotion mixed with desperation and denial. It happens to the best of us, don't judge me.

After the initial shock, hurt and drastic life change of not having him in my life anymore became the new norm, things started to change. Life started to get good, and my mindset and feelings changed dramatically. As they say, time really does heal all wounds. My love and sadness have been replaced with indifference and a new sense of humor about the guy and the entire relationship. It's made for some fantastic and hilarious wine night conversations with the girls, and forced me to change things about myself that I didn't like.

Hey,if you can't laugh at yourself with your friends, then your life isn't very fun. (Hence the blog post: It's funny, and maybe a little awkward. Things in hindsight are often funny and worth writing about.)

As they say: If you love someone let them go, if they come back to you run away and hide. 

Life is short, be kind to yourself. Go on dates, do some cardio, dance and drink wine with your friends, and for God sakes buy yourself some new shoes and panties. You may never get the Bon Jovi 'Always' moment, but that is probably for the best. 

Cheers.

Pink for Gabi: The inspiring story of Gabi's fight and friends.

I got a text from a former co-worker of mine last week; he said that he and his friends were planning a special pink-themed tailgate party outside the Bomber Stadium before last Thursday’s game for their friend Gabi, a fellow die-hard Bomber fan who is battling breast cancer. (Or, as my friend explained:  “Is kicking cancer’s ass.”)

“She had to give up her season tickets,” he explained of Gabi, who had poured years of her life into cheering on the boys in blue and gold both at home and in other stadiums in Canada. “We just want to show her that we’re supporting her.”

Now I don’t know Gabi, I’ve never even met her, but the story of this group of friends rallying around their friend in her time of need was inspiring.

Even though she couldn’t be at the game with them that night, they went out of their way to make sure that her presence was felt. And boy did they do a good job of that.

At just before 5 p.m. a core group of friends parked themselves on the East side of the stadium and began to set up a sort of shrine to Gabi. They decorated their Royal LePage RV with pink streamers and balloons. They all wore pink bandanas, jerseys, hats, t-shirts, beads, leis, boas, you name it, if it was pink they wore it… And they set up a banner on the side of the RV for people to sign, as a get well card to Gabi. The friends even bought extra pink leis and beads to give to passer-bys, so that other people in the stadium would be we supporting Gabi in her fight.

There they were, this group of friends, sending the ultimate shout out to someone they cared about.

Strangers walked by, some stopping to sign the card or leave some money to make a donation to Cancer Care in Gabi’s name. More than $130 was donated from people who were inspired by Gabi, her fight and her wonderful friends. Bomber President and CEO, Garth Butchko even checked in and gladly accepted the pink lei that was bestowed upon him. He posed for a picture (which I feel lucky enough to have been invited into) and introduced himself to the group.

The entire tailgate party and the thought that went into it was something to be in awe of. Beyond the time and money they spent on the ‘Pink for Gabi’ theme, the outpouring of love and support from Gabi’s friends and the strangers who passed by was incredible.

I wish Gabi a strong and speedy recovery in her journey.

It's called a Breakup...

I'm reading 'It's Called a Breakup Because It's Broken' by Greg Behrendt and Amiira Ruotola-Behrendt. (Greg also co-authored 'He's Just Not That Into You.')

Before you start judging me, I must confess that the had been sitting on my book shelf, dusty and unread for a long time. Ironically I bought it during my last relationship, while things were good. A sign of the inevitable perhaps, or maybe I just liked the cover design. Either way, it was a well invested $3.99. (Thanks Goodwill Store!)

The book is hilarious. It's not the standard "self-help book" that reaffirms one's sense of "I am good enough, strong enough...blah, blah, blah." Nope. The book is a  compilation of different breakup scenarios combined with well experienced advice from the authors. It's funny, and makes the whole lonely process universal.

What, you mean I'm not the only person that ever thought Mr. Guy was going to hit a wall and realize how much he loved me and that I am the one and only he ever wanted? I'm not the only one who has battled with my un-ringing phone, dying on the inside because he wasn't calling or texting me? ...I'm not the only one who has ever believed that all those love songs (i.e. Buckcherry's 'Sorry' or Bon Jovi's 'I'll Be There For You') were the soundtrack the the way he was going to feel one day? So you're telling me he actually likes the other girl, even though she's not me!? Oh. OK.

You get my point.

Over and over I see pieces of myself in every breakup I've ever had; from the guys I knew were never going to last in my life, to the one I thought was "it," the book covers the gamete of breakup woes and emotional instability. It's comforting and amusing.

I remember one breakup, probably the worst one I've ever been through when I was in my 20s, I thought I was literally going to die. (I know we all get that feeling when we get dumped, but this particular process of getting over him took FOREVER!) I remember planting myself on my couch, or in my bed for days, and just crying. Yep, that's all I did; cry. I didn't shower, I didn't wear makeup, and I didn't eat. I called in sick to work, because this breakup was like a terminal disease, and I had my friends over to talk about my heartache. Hell, I even burned some of the things he gave me one night over drinks while my friends cheered me on, probably hoping this pain would also go up in smoke. Sadly for them, that was only the beginning of the healing process.

Don't judge me, I was emotional and young.

In the years and relationships/breakups following, the process was always similar, but never quite the same. Each time my heart was broken, the same heavy emptiness washed over me, but unlike the time before I was a different person. In my most recent breakup, the process hurt just as badly as all the other times, but the confidence I never had in other of my other relationships seemed to be my saving grace. Once I finally learned the truth of the situation and of him, it became clear that he was the wrong one for me and that life would be fine, great even, without him.

(Note: That said, I will admit that I think poorly of some of the people I've dated, including the last guy. Some, including him, probably think poorly of me too. Doesn't matter really, that's the past.)

The bottom line is that if you want a good read, or are going through a breakup of your own, you should invest in this book. (Hell, if you're my friend or if we actually know each other, send me a message and I'll lend it to you.)

If you don't want to invest in this book, but are going through a rough time, I just have a couple of tidbits of advice for you:

1) Adele is awesome, but after a three day Adele bender (when you first breakup) turn that stuff off. She's so tormented in her music that even happy people in relationships feel her pain and anguish, you don't need anymore of that in your state. Stick to upbeat, happy tunes.

2) Friends who listen are the best therapists. Don't call or text the one who broke your heart. Lean on your friends, and make new ones. It's always surprising and heartwarming to see who steps up in your time of need. Appreciate it, because (in a different way) your breakup is hard on them too. They don't like to see you hurt, and they're trying really hard to make it better.

3) It'll take time to get over it, but that being said, you still need to go out and enjoy life (even if you don't enjoy anything at first.) The sad truth is that he is enjoying his life without you, so you need to do the same.

4) If he wronged you and you need to hate him, hate him. You need to go through those motions. However, even though you're probably thinking like an emotional maniac, make it your goal to move past the hate to indifference. Someone who hurts you isn't worth that type of emotion or thought process from you. Hate, revenge, regret, or holding onto someone who doesn't want you isn't in your best interest. Life is short.

5) Beware of airing your dirty laundry on social media sites, everyone you've ever met in your entire life doesn't need to know what's going on. It's awkward. (Hell, we've all done it. If you have, don't beat yourself up, just stop now.) Once you're over it you will probably feel silly for doing it. Your future self respect and dignity depend on this! The people who care already know everything anyway.

You'll be ok heartbroken warriors. Love yourself and you'll be surprised how quickly you bounce back. I'll leave you with a quote a friend of mine texted to me when I was entrapped in breakup-ville.



Love,

Shelley C. xo

Mom, meet the Elephant. Elephant, meet mom.

I'm always astounded by my mom's deep knowledge and understanding of her children. I'd say that my mom and I are close, but there are things that I haven't and won't share with her. That being said, I believe she knows me better than I sometimes know myself.

I had been keeping a secret from my mom for a long time. It wasn't something overly secretive to my friends; it was just something that was a part of my life that I didn't think my mom needed to know.

My "secret" is something I don't deem necessary to share on the internet, as I like to keep some aspects of my life personal. However, in blogging about it, I want to tell the part of the story that isn't too personal to share: How much my mom knows and loves me.

Today I finally introduced my mother to the Elephant in the room. The introduction was an unexpected and unplanned Saturday afternoon telephone conversation.

Things started off normally enough: "How are you? What are you doing today? How's work?..." The small-talk kind of stuff that my mom and I routinely chat about. "I'm fine," I told her. "How are you?"

As usual, my mom caught me up with the happenings of her life; she talked a little bit about her trip to Kamloops, my nieces, and what she had done that morning. It was the same old small talk, and then she asked again how I was doing.

"Fine," I relented. "I'm not going to give you details, but I'm going through kind of a hard time right now," is what I told her.

"I know," she said.

"You know?" I asked.

"Yeah, I know," she said.

"What exactly do you know?" I asked.

And she told me exactly what she knew.

"Who told you?" I asked.

"Nobody, I'm your mother." She said.

I sat there on my floor, phone pressed to my ear and Elephant beside me. I didn't expect this exchange to ever happen, yet it was happening, and she left it up to me how the conversation was going to go. Understanding and maintaining an impassive attitude, she offered the details she knew, without asking for any in return.

(Mom, this is the Elephant. Elephant, mom. "Oh hello Elephant in the room, it's nice to finally formally meet you.")

In the grand scheme of things, the "secret" is nothing important. (Anyone reading this is probably coming up with all sorts of salacious scenarios about me, but trust me, it's nothing near as juicy or exciting as you are probably thinking.) In fact, I know I could have told my mom at any time, I just didn't feel I wanted or needed to.

I respect my mom immensely for the way she conducted herself. Here I was, shutting her out of a piece of my life, and she waited outside the metaphorical door for when (or if) I was ready to ever let her in. She never tried to barge in, or make me introduce her to my Elephant. In fact, she was very hospitable to the Elephant, welcoming the shy, invisible stranger into her life and waiting for me to introduce the two if I saw fit. She watched me from afar, keeping an eye on me the whole time, like any mother does.

There are many times in my life that I've kept secrets from my mom. I'm her daughter, that's what daughters do. Yet, I know (and probably even knew before this) that she knows me far greater than I think she does. It's comforting.

Thanks mom.

Kamloops

I'm in Kamloops right now, sitting on CJ's balcony, Listening to the birds chirp, and looking at the cloud-covered mountains. It sounds cheesy, but I feel like I'm in a postcard.

Feels good to be away from Winnipeg. Though I love it there, this vacation feeling of not knowing anybody and getting hopelessly lost on twisty mountain roads kind of gives me butterflies. It always makes me remember how big the world is, and how much there is to see. (Ironic, since I'm in a city a lot smaller than Winnipeg...)

I arrived here a few days ago. After two plane rides, and a hell of a lot of anxiety riddled thoughts of every terrible plane incident I've ever heard of, CJ picked me up from the airport with a bunch of rainbow balloons and a box of Rocky Mountain chocolates. I was exhausted, and confused about the time difference. It's surprising how much of a difference two hours can make on your system.

I didn't really know what to expect of Kamloops. I think I imagined this city to be smaller than it actually is. I pictured Portage la Prairie with mountains, when in fact, there is nothing in Manitoba that is similar to Kamloops. The mountains surround the city. There are so many curvy roads and highways that make your ears pop and make you lose all sense of direction. Thank God for GPS.

Being here, in BC with CJ, makes me realize how much of a life she has out here. Obviously I know she's got a life away from Winnipeg, but it's so different to see her BC life over Facebook or to hear about it on the phone, then it is to actually be here. I don't know if I am even making sense, but it's good to see how well my little sister is doing. She's got a nice apartment, a good job. She has friends, and has amassed a whole bunch of 'stuff' from living out west for six years. When she left home, she did it with her whole life packed into two suitcases! You'd never know that now, looking around her apartment. She fits in; a girl with a Winnipeg soul and a BC heart.

I'm proud of my sister, and so excited to be with her for a week in her home. I'm admittedly a little envious of her, for living in such a beautiful place, and for having the balls to venture so far away from home. I know I'll never move too far from Winnipeg, but I guess the lucky thing for me is that I have a sister who did.

Time to meet her for lunch...