Tuesday, January 31, 2012

The accidental hug

Today I accidentally hugged a stranger. It could have happened to anyone. I was entering the front doors of the Victoria General Hospital where I work, and an older gentleman held open the first of two doors for me. "Thank you," I smiled, and held the second door open for him, saying, "I'll return the favour." He then stretched out his arm wide and smiled. "Awww, that's so sweet!" I thought, "He wants a hug." So I stretched out my arms in return and moved in. He turned sideways at the last minute and patted me on the back, saying, "Thank you, dear." It was then that I realized he was not stretching out his arm to hug me; rather to gesture that I should go ahead. It could have happened to anyone.

I was once afraid of hugs. Well, not afraid, exactly. I just felt awkward in situations that involved hugging or the potential for hugging. I don't come from a huggy family, so it always felt a bit strained and a little stiff to me. Sure, I'd lean in for the obligatory hug, but I'd make it quick - get in and get out and no one gets hurt. Knowing my own hugging issues, I used to enjoy watching other people hugging at airports. There were the true huggers - the ones who embraced others with every ounce of their being - and the reluctant huggers, who only ever hugged at airports and even then it was a quick, distant hug with a half-hearted back pat thrown in for good measure.

I always envied the true huggers and aspired to one day be among their ranks. At some point in my adult life, and I don't recall when, I decided to be a hugger. A real one. A hug-for-all-you're-worth person. An "If I love you and maybe even if I just like you, there's a chance I'm going to hug you" kind of person. As it turns out, I like hugs. No, I love hugs.

So today, I expanded my hugging repertoire to include a perfect stranger. I'm not sure what he thought of the whole thing - he seemed a bit flustered. But me? It made my day. I might hug strangers more often.


Thursday, January 12, 2012

Look at me!

When kids learn a new skill, like hopping on one foot or skipping for the first time, they shout, “Look at me! Look at me!” (and they’ll keep shouting at you until you do). I love that.

I remember as a kid learning to count to 100, and coming to the realization that if I could count to 100, I could count to 200, 300, 400 – as far as the hundreds could go – and who knows where from there (a million seemed an aspirational goal). I counted aloud to my parents so they could witness my brilliance (I’m confident this was not at all irritating for them).

Somewhere on the road to adulthood, most of us lose the “look at me” factor (sometimes it’s replaced with “please God, don’t look at me, whatever you do”). Maybe it’s because we’re taught bragging is unattractive (and anyone who’s ever been in the same space with someone who drones on about their accomplishments knows there’s more than a grain of truth in that). Maybe it’s because we realize that in many cases, other people can do the same things we can, like hop on one foot, skip, or count to 100 and beyond – sometimes even better or faster or more gracefully than we can. Somehow, we get the message, “you’re not so special” and we act as if it’s true.

As children, it’s irrelevant whether everyone else in the world or no one can hop on one foot – we couldn’t do it before and now we can. It’s cause for celebration. It’s “look at me” worthy. There’s something about sharing our success that makes it that much more exciting and rewarding.

Every one of us accomplishes things every day – big and little (Today I had three productive meetings, I learned how to position the little man on google maps to get the street view AND although I was tempted to stop on the way home and get takeout, I opted to go home and make dinner, making a healthier choice for me and my wallet). Look at me!

Ironically, I think what many of us fear about so-called failure is that people will look at us and judge. They might just do that (although that’s probably more about their own fear of failure than any innate failing in you or me). Or maybe, they’ll see someone who is willing to jump into uncertainty and try something new, knowing that before you can master the proverbial hopping on one foot, there’s a period of flailing and arm waving (maybe even falling) as you find your balance. Then one day, you just do it, and it seems odd to imagine a day you didn’t know how. When this happens, remember: There's a whole lot of joy in: "Look at me!"

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Reclaiming the title

It’s been six months since I last blogged. Surely I sit on the precipice of being a non-blogger. Perhaps I’ve already tipped over the edge. But if the latter is true, I am still hanging on by my fingertips, madly trying to swing my legs back up to retain the title.

And ultimately, it’s my title to reclaim – by blogging. I struggle with the discipline of a blog (perhaps it’s more accurate to say I struggle with the discipline of life). I see others’ blogs and note that they’re pretty religious about it – or at least committed to breathing life into it regularly (I am in the midst of doing CPR compressions to my blog as I type). Their followers check back frequently to read the latest happenings and insights, confident that there will be some.

My challenge (I’m throwing down the proverbial gauntlet at my feet) is to just do it. Some people are exceptionally skilled at setting a goal and acting on it – no procrastination, no excuses – they just move forward. Those people annoy me. And yet, I admire their drive, their stick-to-it-iveness.

For many of us, goals are a matter of five steps forward, four steps back (on a good day). In January, the smell of resolutions wafts in the winter air (and depending on which way the wind is blowing, the scent can be sweet or rank). We’ve got high hopes – of eating nothing but organic vegetables and brown rice, of never losing control of our emotions, of shedding three sizes or writing an award-winning book. Maybe we’ll do those things, maybe we won’t, but the question is: Are we setting ourselves up for success? My friend Janet Murphy (www.ordinarymom.ca) has inspired me by setting mini-resolutions for herself – small, achievable changes that will serve her and her family.

When I think about my own mini-resolutions, I know that one of them is to write – not a prescribed amount or according to a rigid schedule and not because I “should,” but because in my heart, I am a writer. Blogging is one outlet for my writing – and one I enjoy. Taking the time to write - whether through my blog or another vehicle - is a gift to myself, and you can never have too many of those.

To you, my readers, I can’t make any promises on the frequency of my posts, but I can say this: I’ve climbed my way back from the edge, and I like the view from here.