Surprise!!! It's me, Jan!

I've been thinking about you folks for some time now; I miss the moments we've shared in the past. In previous posts, I imparted my faith perspective using somewhat unusual and perhaps questionable metaphors such as my colonoscopy, menopause, and shopping at Ikea. Whether or not you chose to agree with my points of view, if I made you think and put a smile on your face my mission was accomplished.

There's lots to catch up on, but for now, let's talk about the economy.  It's a tad broken.

When I was a young'n, my concept of economy was the purchasing power of my allowance, 25 cents - paltry by today's standards,  but back then, I had serious purchasing power.  The world was my oyster on Saturdays: I could buy 5 popsicles, or 75 black balls, or a box of Pink Elephant Popcorn/a bottle of coke/and 20 jujubes; yes sir, I was rolling in it!

Along with supporting Mr. Secret's Candy Store, I also contributed to the health and well being of my family dentist, and family doctor; not to mention the economy of the school playground where candy was king and favours could be bought for a candy cigarette and a jujube.

I was also an entrepreneur.  My first foray into business was a small catering company. There was lots of housing going up in our neighbourhood and it was the hottest summer on record. There were lots of thirsty and hungry construction workers and no coffee truck in sight.  So, with my trusty red wagon, a jug of lemonade and a sack of oranges, I made the rounds and sold out before I reached the end of the  block.  My profit margin was 100 percent, thanks to my mom who unknowingly supplied the lemons, sugar, and assorted citrus fruit. I would have made a boat load of money that summer if it weren't for that nosey Mrs. Jones ratting me out to my mom. My business was shut down and I went from the Ivanka Trump of Jackson Crescent to closing down the operation in one afternoon. But I got a taste of the business bug and have never looked back.

So this is usually the point in my blog were cometh the lesson. For the sake of keeping you on your toes and guessing what I'm going to come up next, I'm changing things up a bit. Today, I'm going to give a nod to one person who is doing her part to fix our broken economy by starting a small business which I think is going places.

Meet Lyubov G., proud co-owner of PhotoCoasters, a cool company with a new and innovative product that allows you to display your digital photographs in a more visible way. PhotoCoasters are the solution to the showcasing the best of the best of your copious quantities of digital photographs into elegant and artistic coasters. They provide the much needed visibility and move your photographs from the realm of digital and into the realm of the everyday life. Luba and her partner are in the process of raising funds through a KickStarter campaign in order to launch their business and they need your help. 

So here, finally, cometh the lesson.  It's people like Luba and her partner who have the ability to fix our economy by starting  innovative businesses that meet a need and offer solutions to our problems. Small business owners hire the majority of the workforce in Canada, so supporting start up businesses gives us all a chance to fix a broken economy.  Take a quick moment and check out PhotoCoasters website: http://www.photocoaster.com, and help them to raise the necessary funds to expand their online presence and establish a marketing campaign. This is the solution to fixing a broken economy:  empowering individuals to offer their craft and skills in a business venture by offering up a small contribution along with others and supporting the launch of small businesses.  Small business which will no doubt grow and create job opportunities which in turn make our lagging economy grow. Think of every great thing anyone ever did for you, and pay it forward by joining a KickStarter campaign today. You'll get a good feeling, someone else will build a business and someday someone else will get a good job, who will in turn start their own business and so on. And every time that happens, an angel gets her wings.

So, I'm back, better than ever, with some new and interesting stories to tell.  Stay tuned.

It's me, Jan

I'm not crazy... I'm just a little unwell, uh huh...

So,  It's been 9 months since my last post. Actually longer than that, because my last post was just a reprint of a poem I wrote in 2011. I've been off the grid since last fall; and if truth be told, I have been off the rails as well.

So, in a nut shell, here's an update.  September 2012, I went back to work as a job placement specialist with a rather large company in the GTA.  (11 branches plus a head office). It promised to be a nice gig, located in a small town about 45 minutes from my home - a short commute by GTA standards - and all country driving which was OK by me.  I did well.  Great in fact.  So great that I was transferred to another branch, a big city about 1.5 hours from my house. I moved into a "dark office" containing a cabinet of messy files and a back log of work that urgently needed attention.  Urgent does not even come close to describing the task I faced.  So, I hit the ground running, threw my body on top of the pile,  took on the whole mess and by the end of March, 2013, I had put all things to right. A hero? Na, not really.  T'wernt nothin, mam. Didn't hardly hurt a bit... just cost me my sanity.

In April, I had a chance to finally catch my breath, only to realize that I was exhausted; physically, mentally and emotionally.  I came to the realization that I was definitely IN THE WRONG JOB, in the wrong location and in an increasingly bad frame of mind. Everything that I learned about myself last summer had flown out the window, and I found my self on the highway to hell (literally on some days - it is Toronto after all) and heading to Anxiety Town, Panicville, with lengthy stop-overs at Depression Junction and closing in on Breakdown Valley. Perhaps a tad dramatic, but truly not by much.

Truth be told, I have NOT forgotten everything I learned last summer.  Actually, those lessons, plus my faith in God and my loving relationship with Jesus Christ is the glue that is holding me together. Without that, I would have shattered into a million pieces this time.  I say "this time" because I have been down this road before... several times in fact.  So, I am going to say something out loud to all of you and partially to myself for the first time.  I, Jan C, am a tad "crazy".  

Why does it not surprise me that those of you who are closest to me are rolling your eyes and saying "Noooooo.... really Jan???????????"  Maybe it was not that big of a secret.

Am I crazy?  Not sure want crazy actually is.  Let's consult the dictionary:

Adjective:  mentally deranged, esp. as manifested in a wild or aggressive way: " Jan went crazy and assaulted a the driver of a dump truck that could not drive more than 5 km/hr up a steep hill." (If fantasizing about doing that counts than, yes, I am crazy.)

Noun:  a mentally deranged person. (If working 12 hour days, ignoring the need to eat, use the bathroom or even pray for mercy means I am mentally deranged, then yes, I am crazy)

Synonyms: mad - insane - demented - daft - lunatic - nutty... well, with the possible and hopeful exception of demented and lunatic, I am pretty sure most of you have ascribed some of these synonyms to me at some point.

On the other hand,  The Free Dictionary by Farlex defines crazy this way:

2. Informal Departing from proportion or moderation, especially:

a. Possessed by enthusiasm or excitement: yup, definitely me  to a fault;

b. Immoderately fond; infatuated: "Jan is crazy about jewelry"..., guilty as charged;

c. Intensely involved or preoccupied about being excellent at everything, ya, that too.

d. Foolish or impractical; senseless: a crazy scheme for hitting the quarterly target... that  is me at my best (or worst, depending on the scheme, the outcome and the toll it takes on me).

So, am I crazy?  Let's cogitate on this a while and see where it takes me. Fasten your seat belts people; it's going to be a bumpy ride!

But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be

Yeah, how I used to be
How I used to be
Well, I'm just a little unwell
How I used to be
How I used to be
I'm just a little unwell

                                    ~ Matchbox 20 Lyrics

I Will

Today is Dec. 6, 2012 - Day of National Action on Violence Against Women.  Marc Lépine entered the École Polytechnique de Montréal, on the afternoon of December 6, 1989. He had long complained about women working in non-traditional jobs, and after separating men and women in a classroom, he shot the women, claiming that he was fighting feminism. He then moved into other parts of the building, targeting women as he went, before killing himself.

I am shocked and disappointed that today, I did not hear one thing on the radio or television marking this day or the memory of the 13 women he killed.  Let's take a few moments to reflect on how we all must take responsibility bring and end to violence against women. 

I wrote this last year for an event that I attended.  Please read and take some time to reflect. 

I Will

I saw you on the street yesterday, pushed up against that wall,

cowering from the man who was in your face.

I caught your eye and at that moment, even though we could not speak, you pleaded with me to 

mind my business, that stepping in would only make things worse.

God it hurt to see you like that.

And I walked away, hating myself for feeling so powerless. 

And I vowed… never again!

I heard your screams through the wall, as he knocked you about. You begged, he yelled and the 
baby cried. So I called the police and they came. Took your man away.

The next day, you told me to mind my business.

Mind my business?  Sister, you are my business. Whether you like it or not.

You told me about the threats, the lies and the verbal abuse. You made excuses… and then 

more excuses and then then, you ran out of words.

One day , you came to an epiphany and finally got a clue.

You asked:

Who will listen without judgement or blaming and just let me cry it out?

And I said:  “I will”

You asked:

Who will tell me the truth, when I kid myself  into believing that he won’t do it again?

And I said:  “I will”

Who will remind me that I am worthy of love, respect and happiness?

And I said “I will”

Who will remind me that the abuse is not my fault and it not going to get better or go away on its own?

And I said:  “I will”

Who will take me and the baby in when I need a safe place to be?

And I said:  “I will”

Who will promise not to give up on me when I just can’t stay away from him.

And I said: “I will”

Who will steer me to the helpers, the protectors and the resources that can get me out of this mess?

And I said: “I will”

And I did. I made you my business. And I’m glad.

I saw you the other day, looking beautiful, bright, laughing and strong!  And I thought,

 “Man, she’s got it together at last.”

I caught your eye and at that moment, even though we could not speak,

you pleaded with me to reach out and ask for your help, but I was too ashamed to admit my 

secret.

God it hurt to see you doing so well,

when all I could do was walk away, hating myself for being so powerless.

You heard my  screams through the wall, as he knocked me about.

The kids were crying and things were flying.

You called the police and they came.  Took my man away. 

I tried to tell you, “Mind your business!”

And you said:

Mind my business?  Sister, you are my business. Whether you like it or not.

You reminded me about the threats, the lies and the verbal abuse.

How someone reached out and told you the truth:

 No Woman Has to Live Like This!

That was my  epiphany and I finally got a clue.

And I reached out and asked for your help.

 I asked:

Who will listen without judgement and just let me cry it out?

And you said:  “I will”

Who will tell me the truth, when I kid myself  into believing that he won’t do it again?

And you said: “I will”

Who will remind me that the abuse is not my fault and it not going to get better or go away on its own?

And you  said:  “I will”

Who will remind me that I am worthy of love, respect and happiness?

And you  said:  “I will”

Who will promise not to give up on me when I just can’t stay away from him.

And you said: “I will”

Who will take me and the kids in when I need a safe place to be?

And you said: “I will”

Who will steer me to the helpers, the protectors and the resources that can get me out of this mess?

And you said: “I will”

And you did and I love you.

Sisters, thanks for making me your business.

Ways to help a friend who you know is being abused.

1. Talk to your friend about healthy relationships, about how abuse is not normal and about the type of relationships she deserves. Emphasize that the abuse is not her fault and that it is not going to get better or go away on its own.
2. Listen as your friend confides in you about her abuse. Let her know that you care about her and that you want to help. Never judge your friend or try to place blame, according to the National Domestic Violence Hotline, and never stick up for her abuser. Understand that you cannot solve her problems for her, but you can support her.
3. Encourage your friend to talk to a domestic violence outreach worker or counsellor. Offer to help her find someone to talk to and to come along if she chooses. Professional domestic violence workers are likely to have access to resources and tools that you don't and can provide tips to keep everyone safe.
4. Be a part of your friend's safety plan. Encourage her to pack her most important belongings in a suitcase and leave it at your house so she's ready to leave whenever she has to. HelpGuide.org recommends she have clothing, money, important documents and emergency contacts in her safety kit.
5. Don't withdrawal your support if your friend makes a decision you don't like or decides to go back to her abuser. Abuse takes a toll mentally, physically and emotionally on women and she may make several attempts before she is able to leave. Her abuser also may be threatening her or her family, so she may decide to take some time and regroup or rethink her strategy. Support her during those times as well.
6. Call the police immediately if you witness abuse or if she calls you to tell you that her partner's currently abusing her. Don't hesitate and don't try to go to her house to break things up. It is never a good idea to confront her abuser because he could harm you or take his anger out on her, because you got involved.

Even When I Crash The Car

It's Thanksgiving day; a day when we hit the pause button on our self-absorbed lives and give thanks and acknowledgement to God for the many blessings and abundance we have in our lives... at least, that's the official party line. In theory, it seems like a good idea to mark our calendars on the 2nd Monday of October as the day when we "remember" to be grateful. Just like we "remember" to give to the poor at Christmas time or "remember" the sacrifice made by our veterans on Remembrance Day.

It is not my intention to come off as sanctimonious here. My first thoughts on this morn of Thanksgiving, as I drift back back into consciousness from my turkey-tryptophan-roasted potatoes and gravy-cranberry sauce-pumpkin cheesecake induced coma,  is to be thankful that I get to stay home today and recover from 24 hours of cooking and baking and the 60 minutes it took to chow down on the resulting mountain of food. My body is still in shock from the sheer volume of calories, grams of sugar, and fat that I consumed in one sitting.  I'm hung over from abundance and my biggest challenge today is figuring out how 2 people are going to use up leftovers that would feed a family of 5.  And it slowly dawns on me that, except for saying Grace last night, I left God out of the equation - again - and simply used this statutory holiday as an excuse to gorge myself and have a paid day off.  Every Thanksgiving of my entire adult life has been the same. Sad but true.

This morning, despite my bloated belly and calorie saturated brain, I still managed to curl up on the couch for my daily devotions. As Thanksgiving was the theme, I entered into a stilted prayer of thanksgiving, with the intention to acknowledge God for His many blessings. Somehow it all seemed so hollow and pretentious.  As I searched for the words to give thanks, I suddenly felt convicted and was reminded that as undeserving of Grace that I am, His love for me is everlasting. God loves me no matter what, even when I crash the car.

I am an insecure person, who fears rejection and lives in constant worry that I am going to disappoint people. However, I have come to learn that in God, I need not fear disappointment or disapproval. He made me, warts and all, and is never surprised or ashamed of my thoughts, actions or behaviours. What a strange experience it must be from above, watching me navigate myself throughout each day, zigging and zagging, bumping into problems, getting stuck in corners and side swiped by past, present and future worries that chase me throughout my waking hours and into my dream life. It would be like watching bumper cars at a carnival - me in the little blue car, under the illusion that I  have full control with no need of help, and consequently getting slammed into, cornered and every once in a while making a break for it, only to hit a brick wall. Yet, He patiently waits for me to come back to Him, admitting that I've done it again; admitting to my willfulness, and asking for forgiveness. He, in His infinite loving grace and mercy, gets me through another day. I can't earn His grace, and I don't deserve His mercy, but He gives it freely, because I acknowledge Him as my saviour.

I mess up and fall everyday; and on most days, I begin and end my day thanking God for all the things I do not deserve but received (His grace) and all the punishments I do deserve but did not receive (His mercy). Thanksgiving is meant to be an expression of gratitude to God and that means, that everyday is a thanksgiving day...I'm just glad that we don't have to celebrate it with a turkey dinner.

God loves me, even when I crash the car.

It's me,

Jan

My Body and I

I am into recycling so this is an old post from a few years ago.  It is a Ode to my aging body.

I celebrate my breath and sing my breath and what I hope you willl do if I have no breath is restart my heart with electric shock as the treadmill whirs and hums a song of ironic demise

For every moment belonging to me is as good as gone if you tarry too long with concerns of liability and litigation.

I loaf and invite a bowl of greasy chips to pass my lips as I ignore my heart's pleading "No more!"

Oh body thou has betrayed my trust. A sniff of cake increases my bust an inch or more and gravity drags them towards the floor.

Laughter lines and wrinkles appear out of thin air in concert with my graying hair and my jaw slowly dissolves into jowls; so unjust are you, my aging body.

But all is not as it appears to be. Below the surface of my sagging skin there are forces to be reckoned with that will soon begin to show their might.

Muscles forming, tightness, uprightness, righteous strength! My heart grows stronger, my resolve grows stronger and I grow stronger bit by bit.

Age reversing, start rehearsing for the next chorus, give myself a hand.

It ain't over 'til the fat lady thins.

An Adjective by Any Other Name...

It seems that my body must now be described with all sorts of new adjectives. Some parts (such as my derriere)  have expanded.  According to the nice lady at Additionelle   ~[full figure fashion store] ~ my booty has a new adjective: awsomely delicious. A little confusing and a tad uncomfortable, yes, but compared to my own assessment of my largest asset, a very positive adjective indeed.

Other areas of my body have started to succumb to the earth's gravitational pull, so adjectives such as saggy and droopy have attached themselves (literally) to my boobs, tummy, eyelids and even my awesomely delicious derriere.  It makes a girl want to cry.

I just spent the past 2 weekends assembling a new wardrobe in preparation for a return to work.  Thankfully, I have not moved up a size, but disappointingly, clothing just does not fit the way it used to.  I yearn for the days of yore when I was reasonably fit and did not have to wear any clothing size followed with an X or worse yet, multiple X's.  What does that X stand for anyway, Xena, Warrior Princess?

You know, that is not such a bad idea.  The next time I go shopping for underwear, I'm going to ask the store clerk to lead me over to the Xena Princess Warrior underwear rack. "I'm looking for a size double XPW please." And when she gives me that "Who do you think you're kidding? " look, I'll whip out my sword and lop off her head.

My worst shopping experience so far has been at the shoe store.  God blessed me with a big heart, a tender soul, and big, wide flat feet.  The shoe industry does not make a shoe that fits a size 8.5, DDD Extra Wide in the front and narrow in the heel foot.  Why me God, why me?

And don't get me started on my calves.  Buying winter boots is a hideous chore for me, as well as Eric (who chauffeurs me from store to store, listening to my rants about conspiracy theories and the fashion industry), and the poor shoe sales person who has to risk their life as they kneel at my feet and try to zip a pair leather boots around my "massive" calves.  Yes, I said "massive" calves.  This is the actual adjective that a young man used as he rammed my feet into a pair of tall leather boots.  I used a few adjectives of my own as I explained why his lapse of judgement had cost him a sale.

So, what is the point of this blog, besides lamenting my ongoing fight with fashion. I'm sure there was a spiritual moral somewhere, but failing that, I want to share some adjectives from another blog that I used to write called My Little Black Dress:

Sunday, March 1, 2009

I will not succumb to the tyranny of the measuring tape

I am amazing. I am awesome. I am beautiful. I am bright. I am creative. I am corny. I am delightful. I am determined. I am edgy. I am eating healthy. I am friendly. I AM FINE. I am grateful. I am gorgeous! I am healthier. I am happy. I am idealistic. I am I. I am Jan (duh!) I am jolly (not just 'cause I'm fat). I am kind. I am kind of cool. I am lovely. I am lucky (to have you as my friend). I am mommy, ma, mother and ma ma. I am MAD!!!(in that British kind of way). I am nice. I am naughty. I am open-minded. I am Oh sooo cool! I am polite. I am plumpy. I am Quite MAD (in a pi**ed off sort of way). I am Qute (made that one up.) I am Reaching past my toes which means I am flexible) I am Really Really determined to go the distance. I am Sista to my friends and Sister to my Sista's. I am a Silly-billy (for caring about the scale and measuring tape). I am terrific! I am tired of being fat. I am understanding. I am un-defeated! I am voluptuous. I am Very Very MAD!!! (in that British, pi**ed off kind of way) I am WOMAN!!!  I am Xcited that this diatribe is almost done. I am eXcellent. I am young at heart. I am yawning. I am ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

That's all from this chique, classy, cool, chick.

It's me, Jan

Give God the Blueprint to Your Heart.

Give God the Blueprint to Your Heart.

According to Dictionary.com the heart is defined as a hollow, pump like organ of blood circulation, composed mainly of rhythmically contractile smooth muscle, located in the chest between the lungs and slightly to the left and consisting of four chambers…

In metaphorical terms, we can define the term “heart” as that part of the human existence where beliefs, memories, feelings, dreams, and life experiences converge into a physical/spiritual/emotional phenomenon that affects the way we interact and react to the rest of the world. There is no scientific evidence that connects the heart as a body organ to emotions. However, we all experience a physical sensation in our heart when our emotions are shaken up in either a good way, (i.e. falling in love, being promoted, winning the lottery) or not so great, (losing a loved one, being fired, or going broke.) When we are rocked emotionally, our hearts vibrate, our breathing quickens, our souls ache and the blood (pumped by our heart) rushes to our brain, busting open the floodgates of thoughts, visions, fears, cheers and other such mayhem.

My heart is breaking… have you no heart?... She has a stone cold heart… My heart got out to you… I just don’t have the heart to go on… IYyou…

While our human heart has four chambers, our “heart” – that place where we store our core beliefs – has many rooms. Each room contains a conviction derived from an interpretation of a life event, which in turn feeds our self-esteem and influences our outward behaviour. From moment to moment, as we encounter external stimuli, one room or another of our “heart” is breached, and the floodgate of memories, feelings and beliefs bust open into either a pleasurable or a painful moment. We, the unwitting participants of this phenomenon, have to ride out the physical and emotional sensations, and depending on the positive or negative impact, will go to great lengths to prolong or bring about an immediate end to the experience.

“Heart” is where our love lives; not our minds. When we send valentines, they are heart-shaped, not brain-shaped. Our heart goes all aflutter and seems to swell with that warm, wonderfully swooshy, smooshy sensation that makes the rest of our body go on full alert, pupils dilating, hair standing up and skin tingling. We draw hearts on our note pads, and sing smarmy love songs that also reference the “heart”.

“Heart” is where our pain lives. When life in general or a person in particular does us wrong, we claim to have a broken heart. If someone hurts our feelings, we don’t cover our ears to protect ourselves from the pain; instead, we press our hands over our heart in an effort to contain the hemorrhage of hurt, because the pain is coming from a room in our heart where a locked door has been kicked open and our pain exposed.

“Heart” is where we store core beliefs – those foundational constructs that guide our behaviours, influence our choices, and hopefully cause us to be a blessing to our fellow human beings. “I believe with all my heart…”.  “She puts her heart in to everything she does…”. This being the case, it would do our hearts good to air out those rooms once in a while, and perhaps toss out some trash, especially when we discover that a core-belief no longer holds true. Problem is, we innately hoard these ideals because they appear to define us, and if our belief system is shaken to the core, then we are forced to question everything we ever believed to be true. This kind of inventory cannot be undertaken alone.

Therefore my friends, I am suggesting that we all handover the blueprint of our heart to God, allowing Him to enter each room, and shine His light into those that contain the pain, anger, misunderstanding and negative self-concepts that so limit our lives. He can reveal the truth behind each door, and gently help us face that for the last time and finally put the junk that no longer serves us out on the curb. Garbage in…garbage out. 

Our glorious God will not stop at clearing out the clutter; He will replace that mess with the truth – a magnificent new vision of who you really are, a new understanding of how He has masterfully designed you to make a positive impact on planet earth and all its inhabitants. 

Give God the blueprint to your heart and allow Him to create a wide-open space for His Holy Spirit to reside. Life will get less complicated, peace will seep into every cell of your body, and no matter what life brings you, His grace will be sufficient to see your through.   

I Y U

It’s me... Jan