Tree of Life - not a movie, an experience to savour

For the first time ever I actually stopped eating my popcorn partway through a movie. Let me explain the significance... In my first year of university as a film student, I quickly realized that watching a movie for fun and watching a movie for school could be completely different experiences, but I had a hard time disconnecting my student self. My friends made it abundantly clear that they did not appreciate an intense and intricate analysis of whatever movie we were watching. Soon enough, I learned that eating popcorn during a movie was a way to quiet the film student, because when watching movies for analysis, in class, there was no popcorn - we were too busy taking notes for that (yes, I can still kind of write in the dark). So popcorn became this signal for my brain to let go and fall into that "suspension of disbelief" state that allows one to simply experience and enjoy the movie.

But somehow, this movie engaged me at a different level, throwing me for a loop when it took a path so different from any I've ever experienced, and I got so lost in it, that there was no need for an external trigger to disconnect. And yet, my analytic side was just as active, watching how the editing worked with the music, and just enjoying the lighting and the skill it took to evoke such feeling in me.

Tree of life is not a movie for everyone - it's really not a movie at all, but a film (pronounced in two syllables: fil-uhm, please). It is not a story. There is little plot, and that is even secondary. But what an experience.

Giving up on Perfection - Big Mother in the sky

I have always been a perfectionist. When we first moved to Canada, I refused to speak a word in English (or French) until I had the pronunciation just right. When I knit, or make a piece of jewellery, I'd rather undo and re-do as many times as I need to than finish something not quite right. That's just the way I've always been.

So big surprise, right, when I became a mom, that I strove to be the elusive perfect mom, knowing full well that I could not be, because no such thing exists. I read the deeply psychological parenting books that espouse constructivist child development theories. I read almost everything Dr. Montessori wrote, and much of what people since her have written about anything related to her theories. I read about attachment theories of psychology, positive psychology, gestalt psychology. I took what I learned in my Montessori training, and applied it at home. I talked to my son's teachers, and asked a ton of questions, and sought wisdom from my mother (the local guru in such matters - seriously, everywhere I go that is Montessori related in Ontario - "I love your Mom, please tell her I said hi"). I talked to people who grew up in split households, and I talked to their parents. I talked to shrinks, and I learned from everyone and everything all I could about child development, and parenting.

And here's the thing. Nobody worth their salt will ever give you a formula for parenting. They will tell you to engage with your child, to get to know your child, to understand your child. Then they'll tell you to do the same with yourself. Understand where your parenting reactions come from. Are they the automatic knee-jerk do what was done to me? Are they age-appropriate? Are they child-appropriate? Do they come from a lack of understanding of child or situation? Are your expectations realistic? Parenting is a very complicated thing. And I wanted to be as perfect at that as I was at speaking English.

Another Sleepless Night, Another Useless Day

Very early in the morning yesterday, there was a terrific thunderstorm here in Toronto. By 5am I was wide awake listening to the booming thunder and crashing rain, and watching my bedroom periodically light up. Too heavy to move, I simply lay and bore witness. I managed to sort-of get back to sleep as the storm waned, but never really quite made it back down.

Yesterday, however, was a pretty good day. I managed my meeting, as you know if you saw my blog yesterday, I went for ice cream with my son and his Step-mom, even went to the drugstore to buy some required items. It was all topped off by a dip in the pool, and dinner and sparklers at my parents' house.

All fine and lovely. I was well-tired, but not so bad by bed time.

Being that we slept at my parents', my son decided he wanted to sleep in his hidy-hole behind the couch, and being that my Mom said ok, I saw no point in arguing. So I went to sleep.

Synchronicity in School

I am now officially handing over the reins to the Middle School, and as much as it pains me, it is good.

It is synchronicity that makes it feel good. I met the gentleman who is taking over when I was dealing with the issues of possessiveness I was feeling over the program, and he got it in the first interview. After many interviews, when he joined the staff, I started to feel better about the whole thing.

We sat down one day over coffee to start looking at what he needed to do for this coming September, and I came away from that meeting feeling like I could safely hand over my baby, and I told him so. From then on, it's been a meeting of minds in a way that is rare and special. I feel good about this.

Sociability

I've had a couple of really fantastic nights that have reminded me how important it is to be sociable, and get out of my house and share ideas with people, because you never know what will come out of it.

Friday night, my parents, son and I were invited to my good friend Danielle's house for dinner. I'm using her real name, because she leaves comments here. Danielle has been working with me for more than a couple of years, but we became close working on the Middle School these last two years. We have, however, developed a far closer relationship outside of school in part because I am now free to go out during the day, and as she works part-time, we enjoy exploring the city together (within my limits of course). So in an odd way, I owe some of our relationship to my illness. Huh.

In any case, my son was picked up by his father at her house, but not before he got to enjoy her wonderfully eclectic and fun art "collection". It was really nice to see him so intrigued by the pieces she and her husband have collected over the years. He was going from one to the other and back again, and just lapping up every moment of the colours and whimsy.

Musings on Death and Fear

Two online friends, and one of my neighbours have all recently lost their fathers.

I fear losing mine. My biggest fear at the moment is losing one or both of my parents. My next biggest fears are losing other members of my close family. After that, I fear all kinds of health-related things.

Funnily, I realized today in therapy, that the one death that does not scare me is my grandmothers - and that is the most imminent. Perhaps because she has been so full of life for so long, or because I can see it coming, or because I really have truly made my peace with her. I know it will come, I know it will hurt, for a long while, and I know I will be ok in the long run. But I don't fear mourning her. Perhaps it is because the fear I feel for my parents, sister, son, niece, nephews and so on is more about my world falling apart than the actual mourning and grief itself.

Fear is a powerful force. It makes us deny things, run away, fight like crazy, and sometimes immobilizes us completely.

Life is full of fearful things. We know fear because of past hurt. I fear grief, having gone through it so many times, as so many of us have, but having gone through it with my eyes open, my fear is so much not a run-away fear, or a fighting fear. It's a fear that comes with acknowledgment - perhaps it's not fear at all, just an understanding that when it happens (because I know it will happen again - for whatever reason) it will be unpleasant.

Self-Help Part 1 - check!

I finished my self-help course this week.

It was overall a good experience. So good in fact, that I've decided to invest another $20 in the next course. Yep. I find I can put my faith in people who are not gouging me, and not touting cures, but hard work and gradual change.

I can't remember how much I shared about the course when I first started, and it's past my bed-time (I already got my Mom's e-mail telling me to go to bed) so I'm not going to go look; my apologies if this is repetitive, but it's an interesting story.

The gentleman who created the course suffered from the same illness I do. He had it for years. Before he fell ill, he worked in hospitals, teaching people how to adapt and manage with long-term, life-threatening, and life-altering illnesses. It's called self-help, because it is aimed at helping us patients take control over our illnesses, and therefore our lives. It helps us to depend on ourselves, and to be proactive in being our own primary caregivers. Very empowering stuff.