I Can't Change

One of the hardest things ever in healing is the fear of “what if they don’t like the new me”. What if I am no longer funny healed, what if I have nothing in common with anyone anymore. What if….. I get it. I not only dealt with all those fears in healing but also after the brain aneurysm that rocked my world at the age of 17. I was terrified to change. To be different. To embrace who I was. What came out of it? Once I learned that the new me was pretty awesome? There were people out there willing to love me just as I was. They loved the healed me. The new quirky me. Am I saying it is easy? NO. Did I lose a lot of friends and people over it? Yes. But it was 100% worth it. Here is an excerpt from my book to give you an idea of some changes that happened. Want to read more?

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“Loss of Identity - the aneurysm happened at 17 almost 18.  The time when we are figuring out who we are.  I truly believe I was robbed of that.  Have you ever seen Runaway Bride the movie? The one with Julia Roberts? There is a scene in that movie where Richard Were is making her try different kinds of eggs “you are so lost you don’t even know what kind of eggs you like!  Yes. Yes. Yes.  With the priest you wanted scrambled.  With the deadhead it was fried.  With the bug guy it was poached.  Now it’s like “Oh, egg whites only.  Thank you very much” That is called changing your mind.  “No.  That’s called not having a mind of your own”  You're so lost, you don't even know what kind of eggs you like.  That line haunted me after.  I remember watching it and seeing her trying all those kinds of eggs and realizing I was her.  Let me explain.  After the aneurysm, anything and I mean anything that was even remotely not what my family was used to was chalked up to being an issue.  It was all “oh no.  Something is wrong with her”. 

I realized very quick that for everyone around me, they needed me to stay as same as possible.  I know that this wasn’t done in malice or ill intent.  But for me? It felt like I was caged.  At a time where I should be experimenting with hair or colours or clothes or what I liked and didn’t like, I was constantly having it thrown in my face.  It was only after my mom passed away (just wait! That chapter is coming!!) That I remember watching that movie again and sobbing to myself.  I had spent so many years trying to be what everyone needed me to be and it wasn’t working.  So what if I wanted to wear makeup! Who cares! Maybe I want to have crazy hair! I hid it from everyone.  I actually wore different clothes and makeup and hair styles around my family.  I was so scared to change for them.  My personality was different for them as well.  My niece was living with us this year for a bit and made the comment that no one really knows me.  She felt she was in on a little secret.  What she doesn’t know was how hard that was for me.  To actually allow a family member into my inner sanctuary in that way.  She saw the real me.  She learned who I am.  I often think that if I were to die today, there would be 2 different groups at my funeral.  The ones that know me now? And the ones that know me from prior to 2009.  I struggle to integrate both of those groups in my life.  I often have almost a bi-polar sense in my head.  I have to switch on someone different depending on who I am with.  On top of that, SHIT KEEPS CHANGING!!!! My hair will not stay the same color.  It is 100% natural and I get asked weekly if it is died.  It is this crazy gray/white/blonde/brown thing and I have no idea what it will do next.  My eyes have gone from DARK brown to light brown to green to hazel.  Good grief, give me a few years.  Maybe I will get blue too! That would be fun.  That is oddly one of the harder ones for me to deal with.  I often will stand and look at my eyes in a mirror and be oddly scared.  I don’t recognize myself.  Due to all of these changes, it took till only a few years ago before I was not scared if I saw my reflection in a mirror in the middle of the night.  I used to actually scream.  Now? I realized that this year? I am finally dreaming in my new body.  For 20 years the vision in my head and what people see are two VERY different things.  I always have this discomfort with it.  I have no idea how much it will continue to change but I have determined that if I don’t learn to enjoy the word and meaning of “fluid” I will struggle forever.  Throw in all the hormone changes and stuff is just nuts around here! I will get to that more in future chapters.

Other losses - the one that makes me cry.  Music.  I spent my entire life focused on music.  It was my saving grace more times than I care to admit.  I had taken singing lessons for years and now my voice was changing.  I lost my ability to sing the way I had.  I had also taken piano lessons for years.  I didn’t have the hand eye coordination after to play.  My memory was so short, I could not look at a page and see the notes and then play them.  By the time I looked back up? I would have forgotten what I had seen.  The hardest one though? The French horn.  In grade 5 or 6 we had to go around and try all the musical instruments if we wanted to play in band.  Maybe it was even before that! I tried them all and when I tried the French horn, I was hooked.  There was something about it.  I hated the size but the sound was incredible.  I signed up right away and much to my parents dismay chose one of the most expensive instruments you can play.  I didn’t care.  I was hooked.  I played in band for a few years before I hit grade 8 and that is when it moved to a place of even more importance for me.  I had the most amazing band teacher.  His name was Mr Wen.  He was a French horn player and the quirkiest man you have ever met but was so crazy passionate about music.  I started private lessons and things kept growing.  I had found my safe space.  I practiced as much as I could, showed up for every practice and my focus became music.  In grade 10, I was asked to do a French horn solo in the music festival.  I played that year as part of a brass quintet that I started with a few friends, I was in jazz band pretending to be a trombone as they needed an extra one, in regular concert band (forgive me while I geek out for a minute), private lessons and more.  At the music festival, I not only played a solo with our main band and then got invited to go to Nationals, but in the French horn quartet I was also a part of I was called out to play with the adjudicators. 

This was unheard of and I was so excited and proud of myself!!! I was finally not failing at something and I loved every second of it.  That summer I was sponsored by an adjudicator (judge) to go to band camp. *interesting fact.  The camp was held at Pamela Andersons high school and the security guard was obsessed with that fact and would show up pictures and tell stories non stop.  While there, I got the work with the number one French horn player in the world at that time.  I do not remember his name but he was a drunk old German man.  He even composed a piece of music for me to play on my own at the final concert.  It was amazing and life could not get better in that area.  My parents had a deal with us that they would pay for half of whatever instrument we wanted.  Needless to say, they were not impressed when I saved my half for a $7500 French horn! Custom from Germany with a detachable bell.  I loved that thing.  I had so much of my identity in music and when I came out of the hospital I was so excited to play.  The first time I tried, I landed in the emergency room.  My head hurt so bad I thought I was having a second brain aneurysm.  What I didn’t know was that the pressure of how you have to blow into a French horn to make music was too much.  I also could not handle the loud sound or the hollow base tone that it had.  The thing that had made me fall in love with it was to be the nemesis of my life forever after. 

To this day, if I want to listen to loud music? I either have to turn off the base almost completely or choose to have the worst headache for days.  My band teacher by this point was NOT the nicest man and he made me sit through band each day even if I couldn’t play.  He had no idea the torture that it was.  To sit there listening to the instruments around me and not be able to play was the worst kind of torture for me.  To this day, I don’t cry when I talk about the aneurysm but the loss of the music breaks my heart.  That is a sure fire way to bring tears.  Years later when I finally sold it, I felt my heart break.  It shattered into pieces and I am still hesitant to learn a new instrument.  I know that it will not be the same.  I will not have it taken away but the fear is there.  I avoided all instrumental music for years.  I remember the first time I went to the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra where I live.  Husband took me for a Christmas present to Handels Messiah and with tears streaming down my face I allowed my heart to heal a little bit.  He also laughed at me.  The entire concert, I was playing parts of songs and still moving my hands for the notes.  Yes I can still remember way too many notes and what finger combos I need.  Want to hear something crazy? When I write? I listen to orchestra music.  It makes me crazy emotional and helps me get my words out.  This loss was a big one.  It is also one that I plan to tackle next year.

Friends - how is an 18 year old supposed to deal with almost losing a friend? What about one who is super sick and has no idea how to live after? I am not sure the aneurysm could have come at a worse time for friends.  EVERYONE minus MD bailed on me.  And while it hurt like hell a the time? I can’t blame them.  Their friend was gone.  I was not the same person after and who wants to deal with that at 18? I truly believe that everyone was just that busy.  They were going away to school, moving away, growing up and didn’t know how to deal with me.  I also did not ask them to.  I had my boyfriend and my MD and that was all I knew how to deal with at that point.  It was odd though.  Looking back and seeing all those people who I thought were so close to me and realizing that we completely lost connection at that point.  I really do not have much for hard feelings around this but this has not ended.  It is hard to be my friend.  My life is not simple.  It is not always easy.  There is a lot there and I am a lot to handle for a lot of people.  Part of it is that I don’t share a lot.  In my mind that is.  I am sure to others around me, I overshare but I always feel like I am one big walking secret. 

I am pretty sure when people read this book, if I put it out there to sell!! That people will be shocked at what they read.  I have lived with an overwhelming feeling of “I am too much for you” my entire life.  I just have an intensity about me that is hard for people to handle.  This is not all good or bad.  It just means that in order to get close? You have to fight a little harder than the average person.  I was laughing with my assistant tonight that I realized recently that I really like and love her.  That she got through and she laughed so hard! “Mission accomplished!!! CRUSHED IT” Like I said.  There are a lot of layers to this old girl.  It is one of the hardest parts of this book.  To open up and share all of this in this way is a crazy vulnerability that I never thought I would have the guts to do.  My friends that get close though? I LOVE them hard.

So how do I deal with all this on a daily basis? I laugh a lot.  I have a lot of grace for myself. I  remind myself that I am a miracle and it is insane that I am even alive.  And then I laugh a little more.  I have days where I get SO MAD and where I cry and scream and get overly angry at my body/head etc. and then I put on my big girl panties (actually they are super hero underwear) and pretend that I am iron man and no one can hurt me and I go through my day.  I allow myself to change my clothes lots.  I allow my nerves to hurt.  I see more specialists.  I count to 60 sometimes, realize I survived a minute, and start again.  The one thing that I consistently do though is to fight for myself.  I never give up.  I give myself time to be mad and then I keep going.  I google for new options one more time.  I see one more doctor.  I try one more diet.  I search out one more new friend.  I go to sleep one more time a little earlier than I think is normal.  I don’t ever stop fighting for my health and my life because dammit! I am worth it.”

And this is a small part of what all changed. Keep fighting for yourself. I promise you are worth it 💕