Entries from November 2009 ↓

He said four little words that weren’t that tiny and I tripped over my tongue while pressing the phone closer to my ear. My ears got hot, and I could feel my cheeks flush, but my eyes were still opened and unaverted and I was breathing a little lighter in a good way.

Four words, that I didn’t argue or indemnify against. I could have been cured, right there.

I’m dying.

Well, we all are. Negating the weird thing I have growing on my arm (can you say having a lot of moles is a recipe for WIN?) and the lump that’s been in my right breast for nearly two years, or the smoking, or the personal and family history of suicides, or the family history of cancer, I’d love to be able to think that it will be later, than sooner.

I don’t have a will. There’s no point of one at this fork of the road since a) the only assets I have are in my bank account and Zoë’s the beneficiary of that and b) I share guardianship with her dad, so if I die, he gets her – and all of her inheritables. Sure, I could get life insurance, but frankly, I’m not prepared at this juncture to make sure that my getting hit by a bus means he can afford a great bender – while he has full custody of our daughter.

Call me heartless. Or practical. Whatevs.

Outside of that issue, I’m comfortable with the thought of dying. As long as I know she’s taken care of, I’m not all “ooh, I’m scared” and I don’t feel morbid thinking about those things. But for some reason, I’ve never been able to sit still, mentally, long enough to make a bucket list.

It seems too final. It’s like, a recipe for prognosticating my death – once everything’s checked off, the reaper will come out of nowhere. Then there’s the thought that if I don’t check everything off and Speed 4 is made, a herd of camels that can’t run slower than 50kms an hour through downtown Vancouver or they will over-salivate and flood the city will take me out, and I will have been deemed a failure.

Basically, a bucket list has, to this point, be one of the biggest taboos to my brains.

But I’m not getting any younger and the thing on my arm is getting angrier and every month, my boob hurts more when that bitch Aunt Flo comes to visit, and I haven’t stopped smoking and my family history isn’t rewriting itself. So maybe it’s time to put metaphorical pen to metaphorical paper and decide what I need to do before those camels come a-runnin’.

1. Earn a PhD
2. Write a novel
3. Live in France
4. Fall in love
5. Meet someone that I think I want to spend the rest of my life with, even if I don’t
6. Look in the mirror and see something positive and not question it or feel bad for feeling positive
7. Become a mother again
8. Be part of a project that had a positive impact on the drug/homelessness/mental health issue in Vancouver
9. Speak at a major conference regarding technology, social media and mental health
10. Learn to bake an amazing pie, from scratch
11. Create a gluten and dairy free eggnog cheesecake recipe that is practically impossible to tell the difference about
12. Learn to knit, proficiently
13. Study interior design, working part time as a consultant
14. Make a full-time income as a freelance writer
15. Be 100% financial independent, without sacrificing my daughter’s childhood for it
16. Sing Amazing Grace in a way that makes someone cry
17. Teach Zoë to play piano
18. Forgive my father
19. Take Zoë for her first tattoo, if she ever wants one
20. See Phantom of the Opera, dressed to the nines, in the really good seats
21. Live in a place that I love, completely, that feels like home
22. Own a vacation home somewhere peaceful
23. Write a journal of letters to Zoë, that she can read when I’ve died, that makes her feel loved
24. Forgive my mother
25. Find a peaceful place, where I’m not always wondering what I’m missing out on, what I did wrong, who or what I’ve sacrificed and how I or others will hurt because of it
26. Read all of these recommended books
27. Cultivate a relationship with my siblings that makes them want to come to my house for Christmas, every year
28. Hear someone tell me they think I’m beautiful and not question what they really mean or want
29. Go at least a year sober, clean and without cigarettes
30. Practice yoga on a warm, sunny beach, without feeling self-conscious
31. Drink tea on a porch while watching the sun rise with someone I love
32. Forgive myself
33. Become an expert at something
34. Edited to add that I forgot: Rebuild this car, from the ground up, including nitro, with a shiny silvery blue paint job.
35. And: learn how to drive stick.
36. As well as: getting a drivers’ license.