The Healing Process (Part Two)

My list of things that have been assisting me in the healing process:

1. Books: I highly recommend "Broken Open," by Elizabeth Lesser. In this book Lesser bravely explores the "Phoenix Process," or positive life change that can emerge from very difficult life events. I also would recommend "I Could Do Anything If I Only Knew What it Was," by Barbara Sher. In this less intimidating version of What Color is Your Parachute, Sher reveals how to "recapture long lost goals, overcome the blocks that inhibit your success, decide what you want to be, and live your dreams." It is the perfect book for anyone trying to make a fresh start in any area of their life and needs inspiration to do so. 

2. Intuitive Healer: Last May, my friend Kacey Goodman Siskind suggested I go see an intuitive healer named Tara Antler. She rents space out of Spynga, a yoga and cycling studio in Toronto run by Sari Nisker and Casey Soer. The session consists of a healing massage where she reads your energy and instills light and guidance in you. Every time I go to her I come out feeling like a million bucks, with restored faith and a great energy. 

3. Fish Oil and 5HTP: Before two weeks ago I was popping a mixture of atavan and chlonazapan in the same way one would devour a large layered butter popcorn at the movies. My panic and anxiety have been so out of control the past few months that those were my only saving graces. However, after a conversation with my wonderful naturopathic doctor, Dr. Regan Tessis, she suggested I try a mixture of fish oil and a supplement called 5HTP. Both help to combat anxiety and have dozens of other health benefits to them. I am proud to say I am now two weeks drug free of my anxiety meds, and am definitely noticing a change with these supplements. I do suggest you go and see a naturopath doctor before starting on any supplements, to make sure you get the right ones for your body. 

4. Exercise: I mean it's a no-brainer right? As Reese Witherspoon said in Legally Blonde "Exercise gives you endorphins-- endorphins make you happy and happy people just don't shoot their husbands...they just don't." Everyone has their own thing they like to do. Mine happens to be swimming and most recently yoga. I try to do both as much as possible, but here is a tip....if you are suffering from anxiety, do NOT do Hot yoga. I made this mistake when I went to a class with my good friend Elise. I ended up puking my guts out after. The two do not mix well, unless you are also looking for a get-skinny-quick regime. 

5. Talk to the Right People: In other words choose a few people that a) you feel comfortable talking to about whatever has happened and/or  b) people who have gone through what you are going through.  For the latter, these are the people that  understand. They can assure you everything will be okay and  share their own experiences and give advice. Let's face it, there's never the right thing to say and always the wrong thing. Since my Dad died, I have heard it all from...."It must be extra hard to be going through this when you don't even have a husband." to.....(freaking out) "OH MY GOD, I CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE IT HAPPENING TO ME." ....um, yeah, so when you have come to the fork in your road, try and stick with people who can sort of keep it together and offer a stable shoulder to cry on.

6. The Russel Hill Chiropractic Clinic: When I hurt my lower back while skating, back during the Christmas Break, I was referred to Dr. Michelle Fagen, an old friend of mine who owns The Russel Hill Chiropractic Clinic.  I have always been skeptical about doing icky things like having my back cracked, but I can assure you that I have barely felt pain since my series of sessions with Michelle. I highly recommend her. After telling her about what has been going on in my life, she referred me to Lisa Quaning for accupuncture, who also works at the clinic. The few sessions I have had with Lisa have been very therapeutic and if you have a fear of needles, take note that you can barely feel them. Go see Michelle and Lisa. Run!  

7. Pets: Robert Bault once said "The difference between friends and pets is that friends we allow into our company, pets we allow into our solitude." If you've been following along with my previous blogs, you will have learned I'm an animal lover. Dogs happen to be the pet of my choice, however, cats, snakes, birds, fish...whatever pets you may have, seek comfort from them during hard times. Sometimes they are all we need to get out of bed in the mornings.

8. Kids: No matter their age, they always know what to say because they are so in touch with their feelings. They name their emotion. If they are happy, they say they are happy. When they are sad, they say they are sad. Adults don't do this. Due to my job, I happen to know a lot of kids of all ages. Nothing touched me more than when the little girl I was tutoring on "Happy Town," Sophia Ewaniuk, didn't want me to drive home from St. Catherines one morning after we finished filming because I wasn't feeling well. She told me that "You need to listen to what your heart is telling you to do, and not your head." I ended up staying over in a hotel and going home later on that day because I didn't want her to worry. There is also the little boy who lives on my street, named Victor, that made me something at school because he knew I was "sad" when my Dad died. You can read that story here. 

9. LA: Everyone has their get-away of choice where they seek solace. Mine happens to be with my LA family. These are friends that I have accumulated over the years starting with one of my best friends Jonathan Bennett, who I met on the set of Mean Girls six years ago. LA has been a great escape for me over the past few years. Whether I am lounging by the pool at Sky Bar, managed by my beautiful friend Ali, spending a day in Venice with my talented friend Liz, tearing up the town with one of my favorite partners in crime Sarah, or begging the hottest Jewish guy I know, Jesse, to propose to me, I am guaranteed happiness whenever I am there. I highly recommend a vacation to help you de-stress from whatever you may be going through.

10. Time: Last but not least, as cliche as it may seem, "Time heals all wounds." These were the words of a friend that had emailed me when my Dad died. His own Dad had died when were were in High School, so I know those words of advice must ring true. It becomes a waiting game, this time thing, but I've learned now that as I'm waiting for it to pass the most important thing I can do is try and become stronger so that next time I'm knocked down, it will be a little easier for me to get up. Last night, as I got weepy when I bumped into my friend Leah at a play, she reminded me that "this too shall pass." They are words to cling to throughout this healing process and perhaps will continue to guide me in finding these silver linings, as well.

Please feel free to share your own thoughts or experiences in the comments section.

Love and Silver linings

 Andrea Dana

The Healing Process (Part One)

    

    I was in LA last weekend to write an exam for obtaining my California High School teaching credential. I will be honest; I didn’t think I was going to be able to get on the plane. I have suffered so much anxiety and panic since last March, and my father’s recent passing really put me over the edge. The fear of flying was almost too much for me to handle. Here's my year in review.

   Exactly one year ago, on March 9^th, my grandmother, Tillie Leslie in her 96^th year, passed away. It was the day after my Birthday and was the first of many life-changing events that would occur for me in 2009/2010. At the time I was blogging for sweetspot and had written a tribute to my Grandmother. It is still posted online here: http://www.sweetspot.ca/SweetLife/andrea_dana/7704/one_sweet_life/.

   A few weeks later I began tutoring on a TV pilot called “Happy Town,” which will be airing April 28^th on ABC. Due to the late night/early morning shoots, in the cold weather, I ended up getting sick. By the time we wrapped in early April, I was having really bad chest pains and respiratory issues that lasted for months. I continued to suffer from these health problems while filming “Scott Pilgrim vs. The World.” While I was on set one day, tutoring the greatest stunt boy of all time, Riley Jones, I started reading a book called “Skinny Bitch,” which is a guide to becoming a vegetarian and all the health benefits one can achieve by doing so. I was so desperate to try anything that might help, that right then and there I cut out all meat from my diet, minus fish. In no time I was feeling a lot better. My chest pains went away, I could breathe better, and I had more energy than I had in years. It was obviously a very positive life change. Emotionally, I was still trying to heal from the loss of my grandmother who had been one of best friends and greatest supporters. 

    In June, as I was starting to feel a little better about it, I was stunned by an accusation made by the LifeSucker about something I clearly didn’t do. He then went on to try and slander my name around town and make me look like a “crazy, psycho.”  Months later, and after filing for slander and liability (just in case), I found out that not only had he been pulling similar stunts with other girls for years, but he had in fact made the whole accusation up in order to save a “meal ticket.”  Obviously, my name wasn’t too tarnished around town and I wasn't too concerned after hearing other people's stories.

     Things were pretty quiet for me after that, up until I found out I no longer had a job teaching piano. How did I find this information out? A kid I know happened to be at the music store and heard someone on the phone talking about me, refusing the caller piano lessons with me because I no longer work there, The guy said he had no idea how to get in contact with me, which was sort of classic considering I had bumped into him a day earlier outside of Second Cup. However, since I was already back on set working full time on “Happy Town" series, I wasn’t too disheartened by that one. Plus, that meant I could teach piano privately and make more money doing so. 

     A week later I had bigger fish to fry, when a German shepherd attacked me at the top of my parents street. Two of my three dogs were injured, with my dog Lucy barely making it out alive. You can read about that here: http://andreadanasilverlining.blogspot.com/2010/02/dog-attack.html

    After that, I was granted two months to recover, and then got knocked right back down again with the death of my dad at the beginning of the New Year. I’d like to say that was the icing on the cake, but a few weeks later it was topped off by my great uncle, Moishe Appleby, dying. This meant the end of a generation for my dad’s side of the family and so much more sadness was endured due to it.

   So now here I am, still standing after all the crap and trying to heal as best as I can. Tomorrow I will give you my extensive list of things I have been doing that have been helpful for me and enabled me to get on that plane last Thursday. I hope that if you are going through a rough time, or have suffered any type of loss in your life you will find my list helpful. There are also a lot of things that are NOT helpful which I will write about too, so stay tuned J

It is inevitable that everyone at some point is going to suffer, and it is so important to have those tools in place for when that time comes. I’ve learned the hard way that you never know when the bad times are going hit. 

The Attack (Part Two)

     I didn't sleep a wink that night as I lay in bed with Molly by my side. Thankfully, after being thoroughly examined, Molly had been lucky enough to get away with some minor punctures on her back. I thought about that question that had been repeated to me over and over by anyone I had spoken to within those hours, "How did you not get hurt as well?" I had no answer. I had no explanation to how after kicking and screaming, and pulling my dogs out of that German Shepherd's mouth, that it did not make a nice Jewish meal out of me. To be honest, I had such an adrenaline rush to save my dogs, that it never even occurred to me that I could get hurt too. Maybe I had a guardian angel protecting me. I'm not sure.
     The next morning, while suffering through the wait of Lucy's surgery, I called Toronto Animal Services and told them about what had happened. They said they would send someone in a few days. I tried to describe the urgency of this situation, and they told me they were backed up and would get here as soon as they could. So the sit around and wait game began again. Luckily I work in film, so it's a game I've gotten to know very well.
   A few hours later Dr. Miller, the vet at the VEC, called to say Lucy's surgery had been successful and explained that even though they had to put all her organs back into place, they were expecting her to make a full recovery. Except, as my mother was on the phone with the Dr., he suddenly had to go because Lucy went into cardiac arrest. My body froze with fear as I waited for him to call back.  He finally did and told us that they had revived Lucy and she was now stable. I cried tears of relief and was told to wait another 24 hours before I came down to visit her. Every time we called to check in, she was still stable and doing ok.
   I needed to find out why that dog had been outside without his owner. The woman who had witnessed the attack had thought that the dog jumped off the second story balcony because she had seen it jump before. My dad went to the building after work that night and spoke to the superintendent, who was already aware what had happened. She gave my dad the owner's name and apartment number. When he got to the owner's door there was a big "Beware of Dog" sign on it. No one was home when he knocked, but he could hear the dog on the inside, which was good, because I was nervous the guy would flee before we got to him.

     The next morning I was able to go visit Lucy in the intensive care unit at the VEC. When I saw my poor dog hooked up to the IV, with an oxygen tube in and most of her little body shaved and bandaged, the tears came pouring out. She woke up when she sensed me there and dragged herself over to me. She put her head down in my lap and sighed. She was also making a whimpering sound and the vet technicians told me that the pain killers she was on were probably making her a little loopy. I sat on the floor of her cubicle patting her, crying, and apologizing over and over that this had happened to her. The vet tech told me how lucky I was to have such a strong dog. She said that they had all been saying what a miracle it was that a 14.5 year old dog could survive both the attack and the surgery.
"She's a really special dog," I said, mimicking the same words that Joanne the breeder, had uttered to me nearly fifteen years ago when I had gotten her.
     On my way home from visiting Lucy, I happened to see the superintendent outside the building where we got attacked. She was standing with her small son as they loaded up the recycling bin. I got out of my car and went to go speak to her. She didn't speak English very well, but I explained to her who I was and wanted to know what had happened. I asked her if the dog had jumped off the balcony. She laughed that off and said, "No, no. He had taken the dog to the park and the dog wouldn't come when he called so he left it there and went home."
Those words knocked me down harder than the German Shepherd had. Was she kidding me? He left his German Shepherd in the park to find his way home himself? This woman would have been better off telling me the dog jumped off the balcony. What kind of negligent jerk was he? I asked her if she understood how serious this was. What if it had been her little boy? I asked, pointing to her son who was playing in the same grass where my dogs were attacked. "No, no. That dog likes people. He just doesn't like other dogs. I'm not afraid." 
I went home furious. It then took Animal Services a week to show up at my house. Lucy was already home from the hospital by the time they finally did come by. When the woman saw her she freaked out at how awful the attack was.
"Yes," I said. "This is why I have been trying to stress that it was an emergency situation for the past week." The woman examined Lucy, looking for the puncture wounds. She said she couldn't see any.
"It's been a week," I said, completely agitated. "They have healed. you can see the scabs."  She apologized for how long it had taken for them to get out to see me and assured us that they would take action. The first thing she would do is issue a muzzle order for the dog, then they would press charges and yadda, yadda, yadda.
It has now been four months since the attack and the dog is still running around Earl Bales Park without a muzzle on and any small dog he comes across he lunges at. Needless to say, I am not impressed with Animal Services, nor do I feel any safer. Thankfully, as far as I know, there have been no other attacks. Everyone on my street and in the area knows to keep a careful watch out for the dog and his owner, who is just as vicious.
    Lucy is doing better than ever. She has even more energy and is more alert than she was before the attack. She races up and down the hall of my parents house and has a comparable energy and zest, that she had as a puppy.  Her recovery was quick and her hair grew back within a month. She is a survivor. She is a miracle.

  It has taken me a long time to find a silver lining from this situation. I mean, for months I had not been able to understand why this careless incident happened to us. However, even though I still do not have that answer, I do know why Lucy and Molly were meant to survive, when all odds would not have been in their favor. You see, since my Dad died last month, these dogs have not left my side. They have been so much comfort to me and sometimes the only reason I have had to leave the house, or  just to get up in the morning. In a way, as cheesy as it may sound to a non-animal loving person, I feel they are saving me every day and keeping me strong.
This week I will meet with my lawyer, and I will do all that I can to not only get the 10K that it cost for Lucy's surgery, but in hopes of preventing this from happening to anyone else. I will fight, just like Lucy did, and I will win, just like Lucy did.

The Attack (Part One)

It's just the most amazing thing to love a dog, isn't it? It makes our relationships with people seem as boring as a bowl of oatmeal."— John Grogan (Marley & Me)

           Last week I received an email from a personal injury lawyer that I had met at a party a few months ago. He wanted to find out if I was ready to make a decision about the “dog attack” case. Did I want to proceed with pressing charges against the owner, or did I want to let it go because of everything I have going on in my life right now? Without any hesitation I emailed him back immediately. “I am ready to fight. You’re hired.”

 It was a warm autumn evening, this past October of 09 and I had just returned home from another day tutoring on the set of a great television series called “Happy Town.”  I was also in a fabulous mood because after a year of unfortunate distractions, I had finally completed the manuscript for my second novel, and had sent it off to be edited. Around 11:00 pm, I got my two out of my three dogs ready to take out for their evening walk. Charlie, my oldest, who you’ve already learned about, was now suffering from arthritis in his back legs and wasn’t walking so well anymore. He, sadly, was no longer able to join us for our evening walk. Lucy, my 14.5 year-old, had also been having some health issues lately. She was almost deaf and I’d noticed she’d become a bit lethargic over the past few months. However, she was still mobile and loved being outside. I attached the leash to my 6 year-old, Molly and she immediately grabbed on to Lucy’s, pulling her along as if she was walking her. Lucy’s leash is attached to a harness that goes around her body so that her neck doesn’t get pulled while she’s walking.

I drove up to the top of the street like I always do, in hope of avoiding the wild animals that had been plaguing my parent’s street lately because of the ravine there. I had seen way too many raccoons lately and I knew there was also a fox lurking around. I let my dogs out of the car and we began our walk. I barely made it ten steps, when I suddenly saw a huge German Shepherd off leash heading towards us. I had seen this dog many times before and it belonged to a man who had no control over it, even when it was on a leash. Tonight I did not see the owner anywhere. Within the five seconds I had before being pounced on, I grabbed Molly who was already jumping on me in fear. Lucy, who obviously could not hear or sense the dog coming, didn’t even know what hit her when the German Shepherd grabbed her. I lost my balance as I tried pulling her out of his mouth. He seemed to have her by the neck and was shaking her around as she cried out. Luckily my own cries were loud enough for someone in the apartment building to come out, and she immediately screamed for her husband to go get the dog’s owner, who was in his own apartment. I kicked and screamed at the dog and he finally threw Lucy off to the side, but as I ran for her Molly squirmed out of my arms and the German Shepherd grabbed her. Molly, got shaken a few times, but was fast enough to wriggle away and I finally had both dogs in my arms. The German Shepherd stood there just staring at me, as if I had just ruined his game. I was panting and crying and there was blood everywhere. I felt paralyzed over what to do next. The woman on the balcony was trying to coach me from above.

“Get your babies to the car!” She was screaming.  The German Shepherd watched me as I ran for the car and managing to get my two dogs into the front seat of the passenger side and slamming the door.  It ran over and blocked my side of the car, pacing back and forth in front of it. I begged it to go away. It just stared. Not once through this whole incident did it occur to me that I could get hurt too.

Finally the owner of the dog came running out and ran after it. I screamed a few profanities at him as I jumped into my car. Why had this dog been outside at night without the owner around? I didn’t have time to think of an answer to that, because I needed to get to the emergency vet as soon as possible. I screamed to the woman on the balcony that I had to rush the dogs to the vet. She said not to worry and they would be there for me for whatever I needed. I drove to the vet, crying to my parents on my cell phone about what happened. I told them that Lucy was really hurt and my mom said she would meet me there. When I got to the vet, they rushed Lucy in while I sat and waited with Molly. I called the police, who wouldn’t come take a statement because I hadn’t gotten hurt. Instead, they directed me to Toronto Animal Services, who of course were closed at that hour. I sat helpless staring at my blood stained clothes. The vet came out and told me that Lucy was going to need surgery. He sent us down to the VEC at Yonge and Bloor, where they had an anesthesiologist on call. Since Lucy was an older dog it was very risky to put her under. The vet at the VEC told us that Lucy’s insides were basically a mess. From all the shaking her intestines and other organs were now out of whack. He told us that we can try surgery to put her back together but it’s risky and expensive. He told us that considering her age she might not even make it through the surgery. I thought back to when I first got Lucy. The breeder, Joanne, was very hesitant to give her up. She wanted to keep her for herself because she knew she was a very special dog.

“I don’t know why,” she had said. “She’s just really special. I really feel strongly about it.”

That night I remember turning to my mom with tears in my eyes and telling her that I was not letting Lucy die like this. She deserved a chance. My mom agreed.

“Lucy is going to fight!” I told the vet. “Please do everything you can to save her.”

The surgery was scheduled for the morning when the anesthesiologist would be there as well as the head surgeon, Dr. Miller. We just had to hope she would make it through the night. To be continued….

Good Things Come in Small Packages

         

"I've seen and met angels wearing the disguise of ordinary people leading ordinary lives."- Tracy Chapman

                                                 

     The street I grew up on has always been considered a hidden gem in my parent’s neighborhood. It’s sort of off the beaten path and concealed amongst a huge park and ravine. Over the years my brother, sister, and I have rescued so many lost dogs out of both the ravine and the park that it’s become second nature to us. I will never forget a particular rescue about ten years ago when we saved two large dogs out of the ravine at the back of our house. It was a Sunday, and outside the rain was coming down hard. We could hear barking coming from the backyard and when I looked out through the large living room window of our house, I could see a black Lab and a Golden Retriever in the ravine on the other side of the hill. They seemed to be stuck and in distress. Without even thinking, my brother and I ran outside and soaking us through the rain and mud, managed to get a hold of the dogs. They had gotten stuck amongst fallen trees and were scared. My brother and I got them safe back to our house, and immediately called the phone numbers on their tags. They were soon reunited with their owners who lived a few streets south of us. At the time, I would have named that as the number one dog save that I had done in my life; however, since then there have been a plethora of others that have been just as heroic.

Last Saturday as I was coming out of the house on my way to meet a friend for brunch, I saw a little white dog that lives on the street running by. His name is Rico and he belongs to our neighbors a few doors down. His owners were nowhere in sight and I figured he must have gotten loose on his own. To my horror, I watched as a car swerved by him without stopping. I immediately ran into the street and called his name a few times. He stopped and looked at me, with his tail wagging with excitement. Then he came over to me. I picked him up and headed up the street towards his house. As I approached his driveway, Rico’s owner came running down it waving her arms frantically.

“Oh my god, Oh my god!” she screamed. She told me she was helping her daughter put her boots on, and Rico must have escaped through the open door. I told her he had been heading up towards Bathurst Street when I caught him. She thanked me over and over with tears in her eyes. I told her it was just perfect timing that I happened to come out of the house at that second. We said goodbye and I headed back home, but a few seconds later she was calling me back.

“Andrea, I completely forgot, my son made something for you in school,” she said. I was confused. “Really?” I asked. She grabbed my arm and said, "Yes, yes! Wait here. I’ll go get him.” She went into the house and a few moments later returned with her eight-year-old son, Victor.  He handed me a little doll made out of yarn with googley eyes, that he had made.

“It’s called a Waggle,” Victor said. “It’s supposed to make you happy. My teacher told us that we should give it to someone that we know who is feeling very very sad. I wanted to give it to you because I know that you’re sad because you’re dad died. I think it will cheer you up.”

I was stunned. I had only met Victor three or four times since his young family had moved onto the street a year ago. I was so touched that he had thought of me. I leaned over, and with tears in my eyes gave him a hug.

“Thank you for saving my dog,” he called out, as I began my short journey home. I turned back and smiled.

“Thank you for saving me,” I responded. 

Holding My Breath Underwater

Ever since I was a kid I’ve loved swimming. I am that person who can stay in the water for hours on end, while my skin gets wrinkled and my lips turn blue, before I even consider getting out. While some kids were great at the front crawl or standing on their hands, my talent was the number of seconds I could hold my breath for underwater. I always bugged anyone who was around to count for me, but usually it was my Dad that would do it without a complaint. Sometimes he’d count really fast and make it seem like I had been under for half an hour, and other times he’d challenge me by counting the “Mississippi” way.

When I was in my early twenties I took an amazing job working at Club Med, Huatulco, for six months. Although I mostly worked in the mini club with the kids, I sometimes helped out a friend at the snorkeling shack as well. Even though I would teach the guests how to snorkel wearing all the equipment, I never used the actual snorkel for breathing when we went out into the ocean. I didn’t need to because of how long I could hold my breath for. Even when I took a few scuba diving lessons during employment in Club Med Ixtapa a year later, I was having trouble with the tank, because I was so uncomfortable with excess air coming at me. I tried to assure the instructors that I didn’t need to use the oxygen tank, and that I could go down to the bottom of the sea holding my breath for ages, but they didn’t want to take that chance on me.

So here I was finally figuring out how to breathe easy on land, as I blogged about 2009 being one of the most difficult years of my life, and trying to find the silver linings amongst all the heartache I had already encountered. Then what happens to me within the first week of 2010? My dad dies! It’s as if the forces of the universe were like “Hey, we keep trying to knock her down and she keeps getting back up. Let’s give her the biggest whack that we possibly can.” So they did, and I have never fallen so hard in my life. Will I be able to get up after this one? I’m not sure yet. Only time will tell.

There have been a few strange issues surrounding my Dad’s death. First being, we still don’t know what caused his death. My parents had been on a three week cruise, and they docked in San Diego on January 3rd, preparing to come back to Toronto the next day. That night, my dad was having trouble breathing and my mom called an ambulance right away. In that small pocket of time between getting off the ship and coming home to Toronto, my dad passed away of congestive heart failure due to an unknown reason. We are still waiting on the blood work. At the moment, all I can do to get through this right now is to understand that it was his time and not an accident. The guy went on a three-week vacation, had the best time of his life and then died with my Mom, the love of his life of 47 years by his side. If we could choose our own death plans, I’d say sign me up for that one, because the way my Dad died is a hell of a lot better than some of the other alternatives.

In the hours that followed my father’s death, I found myself trying to hold my breath a lot, which is much harder for me to do when I’m not in water. I had to make some of the most heartbreaking phone calls of my life to people who loved my dad and needed to be consoled. One was to my Aunt Lois, my dad’s sister, who was on a cruise ship that was ironically headed towards Haiti, right before the earthquake. She got off in Puerto Rico and flew home. It’s uncertain what her fate would have been had she not had to come home right away.

It’s now been exactly two weeks since I received that phone call from my Mom, and after making it through the funeral, where I gave the eulogy, and the shiva, where hundreds of people were coming through our house every day. I am somehow still standing.

To be honest, I was going to throw in the towel on this blog. I just felt so destroyed and didn’t think I could continue writing about things, that in hindsight, don’t seem as important anymore. However, an old friend/camp counselor of mine emailed me when she heard the news about my Dad, and encouraged me to continue to try and find the silver linings within all the unfortunate circumstances that I have been hit with over the past year. She believes in my theory that the silver linings are always there, even if it takes a while to find them. So although this has completely thrown me for a loop, and I can’t even be sure that I am making sense anymore, with time I will try to find the silver lining as best as I can.

I will tell you this, I miss my Dad more than I ever thought possible. It is the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life, and it saddens me that I am going to have to find someone new to count the seconds for me, while I continue to hold my breath underwater.

What's This All For?

     Happy New Year! Okay, so it’s 2010 and I am still living in the past. I had originally wanted to start “My Silver Lining,” back in October, but due to unfortunate circumstances, it was not possible. I then thought I would be able to rush through December, getting everything that happened to me in 2009 written up before the year ended, except I landed a job on a movie set that was filming in Hamilton. Since the commute back and forth for three weeks drained me, I was still unable to get it done. So instead of sweeping 2009 under the rug, I’ve decided to just keep on going with my stories. I believe that one of the great things about life is that at any moment you can start fresh, meaning that my new year can start happening whenever I’m finished figuring out the old one. It doesn’t have to begin on January 1^st. Before I continue writing blog entries about the happenings of what is now last year, I wanted to write about some eye opening movies I watched over the holidays.

     When I logged onto Facebook this morning I came across 5-10 statuses that read something like this: “Mary Jo Sue says: 2010 is MY year.” To these people I shake my head and say, stop jinxing yourself because you never know what is waiting for you around the corner. On day one of a new year, no matter how positive you'd like to be, you can't really assume it will be your best one yet. Instead, get off your narcissistic asses and get moving. Make it the year that you will take action and find meaning, rather than another year where you think you deserve everything to come to YOU. Otherwise, trust me, it’s probably not your year.

     My Baba had a Yiddish phrase that she used to say anytime ludicrous things would happen in this world. Whether it was in the news, like a murder or a plane crash, or in her own personal life, like a friend or family member’s sudden death. My Baba would turn to me, or whoever happened to be around and say, “Pusterade?” (I apologize if the English spelling is totally off). The translation of this is, “What’s it all about?” or “What’s this all for?” A deeper meaning could be, “All that work, and this is what you get for it? Yikes!” The past year, when it was so hard to stay positive, I was constantly thinking “Pusterade?” I mean, why bother to try so hard when I kept getting shot down anyways. I happened to watch three movies over the Christmas break, that shed some light for me, and put a few things into perspective. I realized that, although I had fallen victim to some unfortunate circumstances, it didn’t mean my whole life’s path was wrong    

     My friend Erin, who I have known for over twenty-five years, bbm’d me on Christmas eve, telling me to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life.” I am almost embarrassed to admit that I had never seen this classic movie before. I turned it on and instantly fell in love with the protagonist, George Bailey, a man whose imminent suicide on Christmas Eve brought about the intervention of his guardian angel, Clarence Odbody. George Bailey had lived his whole life for other people. When his father died, he gave up his dreams of going out into the world, to stay in town and take over the family business. However, when the Great Depression hits, George loses everything. His whole life’s work goes down the drain, and bringing that dulling question to his mind: Was it worth it? (Pusterade?). Luckily for George, Clarence shows him all the lives he had touched and the contributions he had made to his community throughout his life. When it’s all said and done, George Bailey looks at his wife and his kids and realizes how much love he has in his life. He sees that life did give him back what he put in. To me, George Bailey is the perfect example of the saying Blossom where you are planted. There are so many circumstances in life that prevent us from being where we dream of, but if along the way we can still find meaning to where we have been placed, then in the end it will have been worth it. Just like George Bailey, sometimes we need people to help us see what we can’t see on our own.

     The next movie, also a recommendation from Erin, was “Last Holiday,” starring Queen Latifah. In this movie Queen Latifah plays Georgia Byrd, a woman who lives a very rigid life, never stepping out of her bubble, until she is diagnosed with a very rare disease. With only three weeks left to live, Georgia cashes out her life and takes a last vacation in Europe. She stays in a four star hotel, and trades in her crummy clothes for haute couture. Georgia really whoops it up, experiencing a type of joy she had never known even existed. As her vacation comes to an end, Georgia stops in front of a mirror, all glammed up, and looks at her reflection. She smiles as she sees her happy self, and says, “Next time...we will laugh more, we'll love more; we just won't be so afraid.” I thought this was an amazing message and a great recipe for life. The truth is, you never really know when that plug will be pulled on you, so it is important to find ways to make yourself happy. Having friends that died when I was a teenager, made me understand how short life can be. I have never wanted to have any regrets about not trying things because I was afraid to. The great thing about Georgia Byrd was that although she may have come to that awareness too late, at least she recognized what it was like to live happy. Many people never do.

     The third movie I watched over the holidays was “Gray Gardens.”  This was a movie that I actually worked on, when it filmed in Toronto two years ago. It was a very memorable set for me to be on, due to my rival teacher in the city trying to sabotage me on it. It was also probably one of the only shows where I never had a chance to read the script. I was only there on the days the kids were, which happened to be during the filming of the earlier scenes. I got to watch the fun stuff being filmed, like when Jessica Lange, who is probably one of the classiest and nicest “stars” I have met, sang and danced “Tea For Two,” at the party. When I finally sat down to watch it, last week, I’m sure I was just as horrified as anyone else who has seen this movie. I even had to question if that was really Jessica Lange, as Edie in her later years (great job, makeup department!). I was most intrigued by Little Edie, played by Drew Barrymore. This poor woman was so stuck under the control of her mother, who made Joan Crawford seem like Angelina Jolie. However, Little Edie’s spirit was amazing. Despite the emotional abuse she had to endure, she never gave up hope of being a famous actress. There were so many moments while watching this, where I looked at this pathetic woman, wearing her headscarves, and thought, “Pusterade, Little Edie, Pusterade?” But afterwards, thinking about it, I realized how many people feel stuck doing what they thought they had to do? We grew up in a society that believed that we needed to follow in the footsteps of our parents and grandparents, so that we can move in a circle. At this moment, I can only think of a handful of people that are living outside the box. People that resisted the voices in their heads, that had tried to prevent them from stepping over that line and taking action. I know that I have been teetering back and forth on that line for years.

     I remember reading an article in a magazine a few years back, saying that if you want to be happy in your life, you should be doing whatever it was you dreamed of doing when you were a child. It goes back to that question that adults always ask kids. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” If you actually managed to follow your childhood dreams and are in that place you hoped you would be, I applaud you, and I hold you in the highest respect. If you are not, then I suggest you blossom where you were planted. But, if none of this has sunk in at all, then I suggest you keep your facebook status and answer this one question for me: “Pusterade?”