I was trying to think about what to write for this scheduled blog post. And as I was doing that, I remembered a walk that I took with my dog–amazingly enough, exactly five years ago. It was spring time and I needed to take pictures for my thesis in college, which involved studying the watershed of a reservoir because of flooding problems at a certain bridge. Or so I convinced everyone who would listen; I just actually wanted to take lots of hikes and take pictures with my dog.
I remember this walk for a few things.
First, because I was right in the thick of sending out resumes (I was graduating…*waits for laughter to die down*…okay, fine, most of my courses would be finished by the next month. I had failed two courses and needed to make them up next term). I was prepping up for a couple of interviews and was mentally going over my answers in my head.
I have severe social anxiety. I do a fair job of pretending I don’t, but it’s bad enough that any time I have to face something like this, it takes over my whole life. I can’t not think about it. I wake up, eat, sleep, all while worrying about this social interaction that probably isn’t going to end up as awful as I thought it would. It’s so bad that I go out of my way to avoid social interactions I don’t have to do. I knew there was something wrong with me when I realized I was taking the long way around to avoid saying hi to a friendly neighbour, or would rather go hungry than order food and interact with a cashier.
So, yeah. Interviews…not optional. We were broke at that time. I had a 2-year-old. My husband was just starting a new job with a 10% pay cut because he got fired from his last one. He also had to work 6 days a week for 12 hours each day just so we could pay the bills (we lived in a trailer back then). I needed work–bad.
So I was thinking about all these things while my cocky, self-assured bastard of a dog trotted ahead of me, dragging me through the woods. It had been raining, so the air was cold and humid, which meant not a lot of people were on the trail. Just thinking about all the shit I had to do was scaring me. Liam was a welcome distraction…there was always something about his haphazard, give-no-fucks attitude that I found comforting.
We walked. I took pictures. I tried to figure my shit out.
I‘ve done a lot of weathering through in my life, I think. That past year had some of the worst: my husband losing his job, me still in college, a daughter to feed. We would wake up at 4 am everyday just to make the drive back to Vancouver so I could drop my kid off at my parents’ and then be at school by 6 am. We would stumble back home by about 8 pm, and I would try to fix dinner and numb myself by watching through episodes of The Big Bang Theory.
So there was something extremely important about that springtime walk. A signal of rebirth, of the light at the end of the tunnel. I didn’t actually think I would pass my courses, looking back at it. I’m not proud of how badly I’ve struggled with civil engineering. I enjoy the concepts and theories–but I’m bad at Math. And to do that shit full-time while trying to raise a family is something I wouldn’t even wish on my worst enemy.
But there, that walk. There were flowers. Winter was over. I would, eventually, get a job through one of those interviews (the other one sounded like a scam).
Three years later, I would lose Liam on an April. And we had to go through that shit all over again.
But the memory persists, the reminder of what life could look like if you just waited long enough for the natural order of things. Plant the seeds and stuff will grow. April always has that bittersweet quality for me, for that reason. I think that’s why I chose April to launch my first self-published books. A reminder, and a promise.
Van Gogh’s words, “La tristesse durera toujours,”…the sadness will last forever…that’s a lie. He’s said a lot of things worth listening to, but that one is a lie.
