I'm leaving for a family cottage tomorrow, and I'm SO excited. I haven't been there in 5 years, and I can't wait to get back there and see the place and see what has changed and what is still exactly the way I remember. And this will be my baby niece's first trip to the beach, so it should be fun to have her there. We will be "celebrating" her 1/2 birthday while we're there... I'm not sure we'll celebrate so much as acknowledge it on the day, but I can't believe that six months have passed so quickly! And on that note, my little nephew started junior kindergarten this year, and my other niece is in 2nd grade! I feel old.
My wrist is still giving me a lot of trouble and pain... as much as before surgery, which my surgeon says is not good, so we have to look into infection inside my wrist. Ugh. I got my blue cast off, and we found a pretty bad infection hiding out on the skin... so that's finally cleared up. I had to take the worst tasting/smelling antibiotics ever! I think it had sulfur in it or something. And no one is quite sure if this was caused from those antibiotics, but 48 hours after I started taking them, both my legs swelled up to twice their normal size! And my toes started bruising. It was most bizarre. But I've finished the meds and the swelling seems to have gone down. Just in time for the beach, too!
Anyway, I apologize for this being such a short post, but I really wanted to update my blog... but it's now after 10pm and I still have some cleaning and packing to do before tomorrow. I have quartet practice in the morning before we leave, so I really must finish everything tonight.
I hope you are all doing well, and I promise to write again soon!
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Wait, What?...
There are many many things in life that confuse me. I could probably write for hours about all the things that I don't understand in life... but I think for now, I'll stick with the top 10. And in no particular order, they are:
- "Some nights, I wish that my lips could build a castle, some nights, I wish they'd just fall off." - Lyrics from Fun's Some Nights. What on Earth is he trying to say? Why would you want your lips to build a castle? How would you even think that that could be possible? And why, oh why, would you wish for your lips to fall off? I don't understand.
- Water Polo. I watched the women's competition for this year's Olympics and I still have no idea why the referee kept blowing that whistle, and why none of the girls seemed to stop what they were doing when he did. I thought whistle blowing meant that you had to stop because you did something wrong... but they just kept going!
- Switching from TV to DVD (and vice versa) on someone else's television. Why don't they just save everyone the trouble and make all TVs the same? It should be a simple equation of a button or two... and it should be the same button or two on every single system!
- Why more than one guy has sent me a picture of his genitalia. Why would you do that? Here's the thing all guys need to know: It's not an attractive piece of anatomy. Period. Do not send a girl a photo of it.. especially a girl that you're not currently being intimate with... and ask her opinion. Gross.
- Jersey Shore. There's a song by YouTube star NicePeter that has the line: "I'm so tired of terrible people being admired for being terrible people." That pretty well sums up Jersey Shore for me. It has an entire cast of people who should not be on television. Except maybe on Cops.
- Celebrities who shoplift. People like Winona Ryder, Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears and Farrah Fawcett have all been accused of shoplifting at some point. I don't understand. They have enough money to buy out the entire store... and yet they steal?
- The Great Gatsby. The novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald has got to be, in my opinion, the most terrible, slow-moving, boring book ever, and yet it's considered one of the great classics. I don't get it.
- Fast Food. We all know how bad it is for us, and yet we continue to eat it. What is wrong with us?
- Not being an animal person. How heartless can you be? They're so sweet and cute. I don't see how anyone could look at a picture of a little koala bear or baby penguin or something and not melt!
- Job experience. You can't get the experience without getting the job, but you can't get the job without having experience. You can't win!
Monday, August 13, 2012
A Happy Heart...
Just a few pictures taken around the yard on a warm, sunny afternoon
I hope you're having a lovely day too! :)
I hope you're having a lovely day too! :)
Friday, August 10, 2012
Almost 1 Year Later... Warning: Some Photos May Be Graphic!
Since it's getting somewhat close to the one year "anniversary" of my wrist accident, I thought I would dedicate this post to a recap of what I've been through (and still continue to today).
As you probably already know, last September (2011) I had a customer at work knock a pile of lumber on me, severing the scaphoid lunate ligament. That following November, I had my first surgery to repair the ligament with a synthetic one. I went into the surgery looking like this:
After the doctor came in and described the surgery and planned out with me each step, I looked like this:
After surgery, I woke up looking like this:
Surgery was successful. In December I got my first cast. Pretty, huh?:
The cast came with a special window that housed a temporary pin. The pin was to hold up my scaphoid bone while the synthetic ligament healed:
I've got another 3 weeks in this cast, and then if there are no complications, I'll be starting physio again, and hopefully that's the end of all this madness!! Enough is enough already!
So now you're all caught up :)
As you probably already know, last September (2011) I had a customer at work knock a pile of lumber on me, severing the scaphoid lunate ligament. That following November, I had my first surgery to repair the ligament with a synthetic one. I went into the surgery looking like this:
Surgery was successful. In December I got my first cast. Pretty, huh?:
The cast came with a special window that housed a temporary pin. The pin was to hold up my scaphoid bone while the synthetic ligament healed:
In January 2012, I developed an infection around the pin. One day, I accidentally bashed my wrist on the car door, pushing the pin in 3/4 of an inch, and causing the infection to become septic. On January 10th, I was admitted to the hospital and had my first surgery to clean out the infection. It ended up taking a second surgery (or third if we're counting) on the 12th before the infection was finally out of my system.
However, during that surgery on the 12th, I bit the intibation tube during general anesthesia. This caused me to suffer flash pulmonary edema during recovery.
I was in the hospital for the total of one week. After my surgeries, I was very stiff and couldn't open my hand:
For the next five days, I worked on healing and getting my hand to work properly. Eventually I was able to straighten my fingers:
After that, I got out of the hospital and started physiotherapy. I went 5 days/week, and was able to return to work.
Then one day in April I was at work, and signed my name on a few forms. Apparently that was too much, because my wrist seized and I had to leave work, rush to my physiotherapist, and get her to manipulate my wrist so that it would move. It took 48 hours before my wrist finally relaxed. I went to my surgeon the following week, where we determined that I had re-ruptured the ligament that he had fixed back in November.
At that point, the scars were finally starting to heal nicely, though the one on the side was quite the eyesore because it had been stitched instead of stapled like the one on the back.
After a very long and painful wait, I finally had my 4th surgery on July 23rd to reconstruct the ligament. This time, instead of a synthetic ligament, I opted to have a metal screw drilled through to hold everything in place. Surgery was successful, although while fighting his way through all the scar tissue, the surgeon did accidentally clip and sever a tendon. He was able to suture it up in surgery, and while it means I might have a slightly longer than expected recovery, he is hopeful that everything should end up normal. Also, he was nice enough to staple both incision sites this time, to clear up the ugly scar.
I had the staples removed last week, and got a new cast put on. A waterproof one this time!
I've got another 3 weeks in this cast, and then if there are no complications, I'll be starting physio again, and hopefully that's the end of all this madness!! Enough is enough already!
So now you're all caught up :)
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Home Away From Home...
Everybody needs a place to go to get away from their daily troubles and stress. Whether it be a cottage, a trip, or even just a week without the kids, having somewhere to escape helps us cope with the realities of home. For me, that place has always been at a secluded little lake in Barry's Bay, Ontario.
There, nestled in the pine trees and set in front of the shimmering waters, where the loons cry and the stars are never brighter, lies a small Polish camp, that for two weeks of the year is home to Chilawee Trails.
Chilawee is an all-girls, Catholic based, summer camp, and my favourite place in the world. I started attending as a camper when I was 10 years old. At the time, the camp itself was only 1 years old. It was my first time away from home, and I went on a school bus out of Toronto that was packed full of excited girls. I only knew one or two, but that was all I needed to feel secure.
After a long 5 hour trip, we finally arrived at the oasis. We were late for dinner, so those of us who had taken the bus ate together, while the rest of the camp had their campfire and activities. My counsellor-in-training (CIT) introduced me to the other girl from the bus who would be in the same cabin as myself. That girl and I became fast friends. I am proud to say that even now, 15 years later, we are close friends.
There is something magical about Chilawee Trails; an almost palpable spirit of friendship and positive energy that consumes the camp. There is no such thing as cliques or popularity, no judgement from others, and no sense of exclusion. Friendship, fun, teamwork and encouragement are really the cornerstones. There is always music playing (usually 90's or oldies if I'm involved), singing, dancing, funny outfits and hairstyles, and a lot of laughter going on.
Of all the things I love about camp, there are two things that I think are my favourites. One is the campfires. Even today, if I catch a hint of bug spray, I am immediately taken back to those nights. The entire camp attends, and everyone stands around the fire and sings together. When I became staff, I was quick to be the one to lead the songs. There is no greater high for me than to get up in front of all of my friends and encourage them to join me in a song. There are a number of must-sings, and sometimes someone will be brave enough to teach a new song, which we quickly add to our repertoire for the next summer. The night ends with the staff singing a goodnight song, and then the campers are lead back to their cabins by flashlight.
The other thing that tops my list may seem a little unorthodox. However, I am nothing if not unorthodox, so here it is. One of my absolute favourite parts of camp is... washing supper dishes. I know how strange that seems, but it's something that has to be experienced to truly understand. A group of 4-5 of us will get together after supper, while the rest of the camp is busy with another activity, and divide up the task. Usually two people wash, I always opt to load and run the sanitizer, and then someone dries and puts away. The reason that this is fun for us is because we play music while we work. Often it's the Backstreet Boys, the Grease soundtrack, 60's music, the Spice Girls, or something equally as fun. We crank up the volume, and sing and dance while we clean. Many a dance choreography has been created during that time. Then there are the inevitable water fights. It almost always starts because someone put too much soap in the sink, and we need to get rid of some of the suds (Someone else's face is always a good place...). Sometimes the instigator isn't even in the kitchen. Outside, there is a hose hooked up to the building, and someone (often one of the directors), will hear us singing and laughing, and they'll turn the hose on the open window. Of course, we are forced to retaliate, though we always end up being the ones who are completely soaked.
There are other wonderful parts to the camp as well. There are hikes, canoe trips, sports, crafts, swimming, talent shows, skits, mealtime games, tuck shops, a type of secret-santa, bedtime stories, olympics, theme days, and so much more. The entire camp is an experience like no other.
I attended that camp for 13 years straight. By my last year, I was one of the directors. Unfortunately, life has gotten in the way, and I have not been able to attend in a few years. I do, however, hope that my time has not completely ended there. I think it is essential for some of the staff who fully understand, and can keep alive, the spirit of the camp, to return and pass on the traditions and see that each new camper has the same amazing experience that they themselves had.
I hope that everyone has the opportunity to be exposed to something that is as positively life-altering as Chilawee Trails in their lifetime. I credit that camp for the person that I am today.
To end off, here are some things I have learned from Chilawee:
Accept and encourage others.
Always be a good role model, because you never know who is watching.
Be the first to be friendly and welcoming to those who are shy or unsure.
Fashion, trends, and outer beauty are the least important things in life.
Things that isolate you, such as headphones, magazines, and cell phones should be avoided in all social situations because you never know the fun you could be having, or the people that you could be excluding.
Take a lot of pictures of the good times.
Be the first to keep in touch. Some people aren't the best at it, so always be the one to instigate it.
Embarrassment is the silliest thing in the world. It's okay to let loose.
Music brings people together, and makes work a lot more fun.
Thanks for reading :)
There, nestled in the pine trees and set in front of the shimmering waters, where the loons cry and the stars are never brighter, lies a small Polish camp, that for two weeks of the year is home to Chilawee Trails.
Chilawee is an all-girls, Catholic based, summer camp, and my favourite place in the world. I started attending as a camper when I was 10 years old. At the time, the camp itself was only 1 years old. It was my first time away from home, and I went on a school bus out of Toronto that was packed full of excited girls. I only knew one or two, but that was all I needed to feel secure.
After a long 5 hour trip, we finally arrived at the oasis. We were late for dinner, so those of us who had taken the bus ate together, while the rest of the camp had their campfire and activities. My counsellor-in-training (CIT) introduced me to the other girl from the bus who would be in the same cabin as myself. That girl and I became fast friends. I am proud to say that even now, 15 years later, we are close friends.
There is something magical about Chilawee Trails; an almost palpable spirit of friendship and positive energy that consumes the camp. There is no such thing as cliques or popularity, no judgement from others, and no sense of exclusion. Friendship, fun, teamwork and encouragement are really the cornerstones. There is always music playing (usually 90's or oldies if I'm involved), singing, dancing, funny outfits and hairstyles, and a lot of laughter going on.
Of all the things I love about camp, there are two things that I think are my favourites. One is the campfires. Even today, if I catch a hint of bug spray, I am immediately taken back to those nights. The entire camp attends, and everyone stands around the fire and sings together. When I became staff, I was quick to be the one to lead the songs. There is no greater high for me than to get up in front of all of my friends and encourage them to join me in a song. There are a number of must-sings, and sometimes someone will be brave enough to teach a new song, which we quickly add to our repertoire for the next summer. The night ends with the staff singing a goodnight song, and then the campers are lead back to their cabins by flashlight.
The other thing that tops my list may seem a little unorthodox. However, I am nothing if not unorthodox, so here it is. One of my absolute favourite parts of camp is... washing supper dishes. I know how strange that seems, but it's something that has to be experienced to truly understand. A group of 4-5 of us will get together after supper, while the rest of the camp is busy with another activity, and divide up the task. Usually two people wash, I always opt to load and run the sanitizer, and then someone dries and puts away. The reason that this is fun for us is because we play music while we work. Often it's the Backstreet Boys, the Grease soundtrack, 60's music, the Spice Girls, or something equally as fun. We crank up the volume, and sing and dance while we clean. Many a dance choreography has been created during that time. Then there are the inevitable water fights. It almost always starts because someone put too much soap in the sink, and we need to get rid of some of the suds (Someone else's face is always a good place...). Sometimes the instigator isn't even in the kitchen. Outside, there is a hose hooked up to the building, and someone (often one of the directors), will hear us singing and laughing, and they'll turn the hose on the open window. Of course, we are forced to retaliate, though we always end up being the ones who are completely soaked.
There are other wonderful parts to the camp as well. There are hikes, canoe trips, sports, crafts, swimming, talent shows, skits, mealtime games, tuck shops, a type of secret-santa, bedtime stories, olympics, theme days, and so much more. The entire camp is an experience like no other.
I attended that camp for 13 years straight. By my last year, I was one of the directors. Unfortunately, life has gotten in the way, and I have not been able to attend in a few years. I do, however, hope that my time has not completely ended there. I think it is essential for some of the staff who fully understand, and can keep alive, the spirit of the camp, to return and pass on the traditions and see that each new camper has the same amazing experience that they themselves had.
I hope that everyone has the opportunity to be exposed to something that is as positively life-altering as Chilawee Trails in their lifetime. I credit that camp for the person that I am today.
To end off, here are some things I have learned from Chilawee:
Accept and encourage others.
Always be a good role model, because you never know who is watching.
Be the first to be friendly and welcoming to those who are shy or unsure.
Fashion, trends, and outer beauty are the least important things in life.
Things that isolate you, such as headphones, magazines, and cell phones should be avoided in all social situations because you never know the fun you could be having, or the people that you could be excluding.
Take a lot of pictures of the good times.
Be the first to keep in touch. Some people aren't the best at it, so always be the one to instigate it.
Embarrassment is the silliest thing in the world. It's okay to let loose.
Music brings people together, and makes work a lot more fun.
Thanks for reading :)
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Hello Again...
I've really been neglecting this blog, and for that I apologize. It's hard to think of something to say when every day is the same, and they all overlap in my mind.
I've been doing physiotherapy for quite awhile now, and it's great. I have two therapists that I see, and they are awesome and not too mean to my poor wrist. I'm definitely seeing results in my flexibility and range. Though I hurt my wrist about a week ago when I signed my name at work. I moved a bone in my wrist, and had to leave and go back to physio to get them to help me. Now they want me to go back and see my surgeon to see if the synthetic ligament has stretched. If it has, I will need to begin surgery all over again. And that would mean having a ligament harvested from my forearm to put in my wrist! But, I don't speak to my surgeon for another two weeks... so we're just not going to think about that until then.
Did you notice the part about me being back at work? Yes, I am working again. If you can call it that. I have strict instructions from my physiotherapists that I can work with "Absolutely No Use Of Right Hand" ... which means I can stand at the door, greeting customers and handing out flyers. For four hours at a time. It is the definition of not fun. I feel every single minute as it passes, and most customers don't want a flyer and are annoyed that I am there, standing between them and their shopping.
But at least it's getting me out of the house. I have somewhere to be, something to do, and I'm out dealing with people. After all that time of being a sickly hermit in the house, it's definitely a good thing.
The only other new thing in my life is my new baby niece, born in March. She's a sweetheart. Very smiley, and dramatic, which I love. My other niece and nephew are 6 and 4, respectively, so it's been a lot of fun having a baby around again.
That's all I have right now. I promise I will update again soon. Until then! xoxo
I've been doing physiotherapy for quite awhile now, and it's great. I have two therapists that I see, and they are awesome and not too mean to my poor wrist. I'm definitely seeing results in my flexibility and range. Though I hurt my wrist about a week ago when I signed my name at work. I moved a bone in my wrist, and had to leave and go back to physio to get them to help me. Now they want me to go back and see my surgeon to see if the synthetic ligament has stretched. If it has, I will need to begin surgery all over again. And that would mean having a ligament harvested from my forearm to put in my wrist! But, I don't speak to my surgeon for another two weeks... so we're just not going to think about that until then.
Did you notice the part about me being back at work? Yes, I am working again. If you can call it that. I have strict instructions from my physiotherapists that I can work with "Absolutely No Use Of Right Hand" ... which means I can stand at the door, greeting customers and handing out flyers. For four hours at a time. It is the definition of not fun. I feel every single minute as it passes, and most customers don't want a flyer and are annoyed that I am there, standing between them and their shopping.
But at least it's getting me out of the house. I have somewhere to be, something to do, and I'm out dealing with people. After all that time of being a sickly hermit in the house, it's definitely a good thing.
The only other new thing in my life is my new baby niece, born in March. She's a sweetheart. Very smiley, and dramatic, which I love. My other niece and nephew are 6 and 4, respectively, so it's been a lot of fun having a baby around again.
That's all I have right now. I promise I will update again soon. Until then! xoxo
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Bullies...
I know there's a lot of trending topics about bullying these days, and maybe its getting old, but I can't help but jump on the "bandwagon" because I have first-hand experiences. I was never the bully. I was, on occasion, an accomplice to bullying. Whether it was helping spread gossip, or standing nearby and laughing when someone else was being tormented. Probably out of relief that the gossip was not about me, and that the bullies were focusing on someone else instead of me. Maybe that makes me a bully too. I don't like to think of it that way, but okay, you know what... maybe I was a bully. They say bullies are made from people who were bullied themselves.
I was certainly bullied. It started when I was in grade six. I was home schooled from grades 1-5, so I never had a ton of social experiences where I learned to fit in with other kids. And while part of me regrets missing out on those experiences, the other side of me is glad that I was never forced to become a lemming or a sheep, and that I had to figure out who I was on my own. But whichever perspective I chose to focus on, I didn't fit it. I didn't know brand names, I didn't listen to the same music, I didn't watch the same TV shows or movies, and I didn't understand all the terms and jokes about sex that everyone else did.
I was just starting to get a hint about hormones and boys and all those fun changes during puberty. I wasn't interested in "dating". In fact, I remember my first week of regular school, when a boy announced to the entire class that he had a crush on me. I was terrified. A few girls in my class tried to literally push me to slow dance with him at a school dance. I said no and ran away. Why? Because I had no idea how to slow dance! And because I didn't know what him liking me meant, or what I would be expected to do or how to act if I let things head in that direction.
Okay, back to the topic at hand.
Bullying began in grade six. I wasn't like the other girls, and they made sure I knew it. I can recall being out at recess and everyone was going to play basketball. Captains were chosen, and teams were picked. Except me. No one picked me, even though I was standing right there, waiting and hoping to play. I spent a lot of recesses sitting by the door, waiting for the bell to ring, and hoping I was invisible. Sometimes I would even go and play with the kindergartners because at least they treated me like I was somebody. When I got to grade eight, I learned to make friends with the teachers. Having older siblings meant that I communicated easier with adults than I did with my peers. The teachers never wanted to encourage me to avoid the confrontation of my classmates, but sometimes they relented and allowed me to stay in to help decorate their classroom, or they would chat with me and not usher me out the door when the bell rang.
I was hoping that high school would be chance to have a fresh start to make some real friends or even reinvent myself. In the end, the opposite happened. I started trying to make myself more like everyone else.
P.S. It didn't work.
Trying to make myself more like everyone else only succeeded in making me more self-conscious and lowered my feelings of self-worth. And then, because I was so vulnerable, both inwardly and externally, I became a target. I've been told since those days that I was my own worst enemy for being bullied and that I always offered reasons for others to pick on me. I'm sorry, but I really hate that. What qualifies as a legitimate excuse to humiliate someone or to put them down?
I remember walking home from school in grade nine and having a carload of senior students stop, get out, and encircle me, "moo-ing" and telling me I was a cow. And it was almost a daily occurrence to have the bus students throw food at me as they went by.
I can also remember walking in the hallway and having people, for who knows what reason, take my picture and laugh hysterically. Thankfully, Facebook hadn't been invented yet, so I didn't have to worry about them being posted for the entire world to see.
The only real satisfaction that I felt in high school was when I started grade 12. Nothing had changed, except the realization that once June arrived, I never had to see any of those people ever again. That was a powerful moment for me, because it took the meaning and truth out of the terrible things that were said to me. I never had to see those people ever again. And since then, I haven't. I have one or two good friends from high school, but those are people whom I have chosen to continue a relationship with.
Once I got out of high school, and took a year off to rediscover myself, and then went to college. It was then that I stopped allowing myself to be bullied. Not to say that I didn't have bullies to deal with or that I didn't have people who could bring me down, but I learned to love myself and to no longer take what people said to heart.
I'm still too trusting, and people disappoint me in life, but I've learned to keep a cushion under me. I don't hit rock bottom every time my feelings get hurt, anymore. Instead, I might fall down, but I am not permanently bruised and I can get right back up and move on.
I was certainly bullied. It started when I was in grade six. I was home schooled from grades 1-5, so I never had a ton of social experiences where I learned to fit in with other kids. And while part of me regrets missing out on those experiences, the other side of me is glad that I was never forced to become a lemming or a sheep, and that I had to figure out who I was on my own. But whichever perspective I chose to focus on, I didn't fit it. I didn't know brand names, I didn't listen to the same music, I didn't watch the same TV shows or movies, and I didn't understand all the terms and jokes about sex that everyone else did.
I was just starting to get a hint about hormones and boys and all those fun changes during puberty. I wasn't interested in "dating". In fact, I remember my first week of regular school, when a boy announced to the entire class that he had a crush on me. I was terrified. A few girls in my class tried to literally push me to slow dance with him at a school dance. I said no and ran away. Why? Because I had no idea how to slow dance! And because I didn't know what him liking me meant, or what I would be expected to do or how to act if I let things head in that direction.
Okay, back to the topic at hand.
Bullying began in grade six. I wasn't like the other girls, and they made sure I knew it. I can recall being out at recess and everyone was going to play basketball. Captains were chosen, and teams were picked. Except me. No one picked me, even though I was standing right there, waiting and hoping to play. I spent a lot of recesses sitting by the door, waiting for the bell to ring, and hoping I was invisible. Sometimes I would even go and play with the kindergartners because at least they treated me like I was somebody. When I got to grade eight, I learned to make friends with the teachers. Having older siblings meant that I communicated easier with adults than I did with my peers. The teachers never wanted to encourage me to avoid the confrontation of my classmates, but sometimes they relented and allowed me to stay in to help decorate their classroom, or they would chat with me and not usher me out the door when the bell rang.
I was hoping that high school would be chance to have a fresh start to make some real friends or even reinvent myself. In the end, the opposite happened. I started trying to make myself more like everyone else.
P.S. It didn't work.
Trying to make myself more like everyone else only succeeded in making me more self-conscious and lowered my feelings of self-worth. And then, because I was so vulnerable, both inwardly and externally, I became a target. I've been told since those days that I was my own worst enemy for being bullied and that I always offered reasons for others to pick on me. I'm sorry, but I really hate that. What qualifies as a legitimate excuse to humiliate someone or to put them down?
I remember walking home from school in grade nine and having a carload of senior students stop, get out, and encircle me, "moo-ing" and telling me I was a cow. And it was almost a daily occurrence to have the bus students throw food at me as they went by.
I can also remember walking in the hallway and having people, for who knows what reason, take my picture and laugh hysterically. Thankfully, Facebook hadn't been invented yet, so I didn't have to worry about them being posted for the entire world to see.
The only real satisfaction that I felt in high school was when I started grade 12. Nothing had changed, except the realization that once June arrived, I never had to see any of those people ever again. That was a powerful moment for me, because it took the meaning and truth out of the terrible things that were said to me. I never had to see those people ever again. And since then, I haven't. I have one or two good friends from high school, but those are people whom I have chosen to continue a relationship with.
Once I got out of high school, and took a year off to rediscover myself, and then went to college. It was then that I stopped allowing myself to be bullied. Not to say that I didn't have bullies to deal with or that I didn't have people who could bring me down, but I learned to love myself and to no longer take what people said to heart.
I'm still too trusting, and people disappoint me in life, but I've learned to keep a cushion under me. I don't hit rock bottom every time my feelings get hurt, anymore. Instead, I might fall down, but I am not permanently bruised and I can get right back up and move on.
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