Thank You

I have a friend here in Zurich that I do not spend so much time with simply because communication is a problem.  His English is good, but he usually misses the meaning of what I am saying.  My German is rocky as heck so I avoid speaking it out of embarrassment.  And to make matter worse for me, he insists that I speak German only to him - therefore I have an abundance of excuses whenever he suggests we catch up.

Until today. And his text.  It read "it is time to speak German Dawn."  

It is relatively easy to live without German here in Zurich. However, I didn't really notice how limiting it was until last night.  I was at an expat sort of Christmas party, and there were many people that I knew which was very cool.  Being surrounded by familiar language and people is comforting.  But I am in Switzerland. 

As I left the party last night, I couldn't help but feel it was just a repeat of another day a week or two before.  My friends also seemed a bit bored with the whole scene.  Even though the expat community here is huge and dynamic, it is also only a small part of what is here.  I don't plan to turn my back on what I have here, but it is time to make my world a bit bigger. 

Sometimes it takes one thing to shake things up enough and make you realize that perhaps you are heading in the wrong direction. And that happened for me.  I had to say bye to my best friend here.  I knew it was coming, but I guess I sort of hoped that fate would intervene and I could keep them close.    I threw myself into anything that would keep me busy - hoping to find something or someone else to fill the void. I know it sounds silly, but you can't imagine how incredibly important friends are when everything and everyone familiar is afar.  

Tonight I cancelled my regular plans.  My friend is right - it is time.  Not just to learn German, but for a bit of a change.

So, to the familiar faces and places, thank you for making it so easy for me here - but it is time for me to disappear for a while.  

Another Canadian tune...

Okay isn't Good

I remember one day coming home from school upset and at the end of my teary recap declaring emphatically “its not fair!” to my mother. This moment will forever remain ingrained in my mind, as it was then that mother shared one of the most important life facts with me. As she gave me a hug to help sooth away my bad day she said “life isn’t fair.”

This was a fact that I also shared with my son when he made a similar declaration.

And its not. Life beats us up, knocks us down and leaves us battered and bruised. It also provides us with moments of pleasure, joy and kindness. No matter what we do, life is a mixed bag of cards and we simply do not know what is being dealt.

Today when speaking with a friend he shared with me that his life was “okay” – not particularly good, just okay. He soon followed up his comment with “but that’s life I think, its normal.”

I found his comment upsetting and was openly frustrated. How horrible to exist in a state of “okay?” I will never pretend to have all the answers or profess to know how to live a life best – but what I can say is that I try. Like most people, I have had to make some difficult decisions. Some faced resistance, disappointment and at times displeasure from the ones I cared for most. Whether or not each decision I made was right or wrong, is irrelevant. But what was most important to me was the fact that I was making a decision to move forward with my life.

And that takes me back to life and how remarkably unfair it can be at times. We learn that devastating fact very young and keep having it reinforced all through life. It can make us scared, uncertain and angry. Not to mention accepting. Its tough to see the unfairness of life strip and eat away at a person's passion for life and replace it with an acceptance of mediocrity.

Its something that I hope my son never does.

Life is unfair. Tough. Demanding. Heartbreaking. It is also filled with incredible joy and happiness – if we are open to it. All in all being happy is hard work. And it takes courage. It means sometimes doing what terrifies you most and making unpopular decisions.

I suppose it all comes down to what sort of life you want - and okay simply isn’t good enough for me.

You Don't Need to Understand

“But what about your son,” asks nearly everyone.

That is a loaded question, and not an easy one to hear. Its guilt inducing and does not help ease the pang I already feel for my decision.

But it wasn’t entirely my decision. This was a question that I put forth to my friends, family and most importantly my son. Of everyone, it was my son who told me to do what I wanted. It was not easy for him to say this, but I knew he wanted me to be happy, just as I did, and do, him.

I remember when as a “tween” he went through what we affectionately refer to as the “orange” phase. What ever he could wear that was orange he would. So many times I had to bite my tongue as he proudly came to me with his carefully selected attire. For in his effort was his independence. He knew that he was dressed differently from the other kids, but he dressed only to please himself – no one else. The orange phase was followed by many others, and while he exercised his creativity I watched how free he was in spirit. He always looked great, but what was most important is that he constantly took a chance and tried new things. Sometimes it didn’t work but sometimes it did. Through it all he was happy, and soon learned to not be afraid to make a decision, even an unpopular one with his peers – and at times, me.

Like my son, I too went through my phases. There was the tofu, garlic and juicing one. I remember the year I bought the most ridiculous sun gear known to mankind. To make life even more interesting, I published a regular column that transcribed the humour and drama of our everyday life. It was read by his teachers, some of his friends and parents. Not once did he ask me not to write something.

I won’t lie, there were moments that it took everything for me not to ask my son to change, and I know he took a few taunts over my columns, but at the end of the day he was as proud of me as I was him. We both knew that we were doing what we needed to do.

We’ve both learned that there is more to life when you colour outside of the lines. And we also know that geography doesn’t make a bond stronger; it simply makes it more convenient.

I guess where I am going with this is that no one else needs to understand my reasoning – just as long as we do.