Being Brave Enough…..

My commitment for the New Year was to stretch myself and to do two things each month that made me uncomfortable. For January, I decided to would try to get dressed. Pants make me uncomfortable.

It’s simple to stay in my PJ’s.  It’s one of my many hangovers from COVID. Why get dressed when being on ZOOM just requires a head shot and a quick brush of the hair and strategic camera positioning. So much of my life in post COVID world has kept me comfortable; I have stayed in this state likely because so much about COVID was incredibly uncomfortable whether it be financial, emotional or more. My home became my one stop. I commute to the living room to work, head to the living room when I go to the gym and if I need anything else, I love Amazon and free shipping since I signed up for Prime!

But that was then. COVID has now become something that “was” and something we now learn to live with. The comfort of retreating has come to an end. It’s time to get dressed.

I opened the closet and rummaged towards the back to see what remained of my pre pandemic pants. They were all there, waiting for me except not many fit. It wasn’t just size but also style and form. A reflection that I am not who I was. Things have changed.

I am wondering what I am interested in. What hobbies might catch my attention and what routines need to be disrupted. What have I been doing in pretense that I didn’t have time to do anything new? While I vowed I wouldn’t make big changes, I did commit to small modifications. Starting to get dressed and joining the world is one step but I vowed to make other adjustments too.

In January, I did two things.  I took up playing hockey and I reached out to semi strangers and asked if they wanted to socialize.  Being on skates was hard, making new personal connections was scary.

For over twenty years, I have been an excellent hockey mom.  At the risk of bragging, I will say that my 50/50 selling skills are worthy of a resume mention.  I can cheer with the best and I have mastered the post game commentary by keeping it simple.  “I love to watch you play”.  What more could I say?  I don’t pay attention to the game, I just cheer.  However, I felt that the time had come to venture down from the stands and challenge myself. 

We have ladies hockey in our town and I had never thought that this would be a domain that I would fit.  I’ve never played.  I use to figure skate so I had some context on what it meant to stand on a slippery surface and not topple.  With figure skates, you have a longer blade and this handy thing called a “pick” that would help me stop.  On hockey skates, there were no safe guards but I persevered. 

Getting the gear was a feat.  I went to a second hand store and got what I thought I needed.  Yes, I left with lacrosse gloves and not hockey gloves but whatever.  I didn’t really understand how the gear went on so I enrolled my daughter as my personal “dresser”.  Thank God because the hockey pants that I bought were too small and I couldn’t bend over to tie my skates. 

I took to the ice and for one full hour, I was relieved that I had never been “that parent” that yelled instructions to my children on the ice because trying to stand up, hold a stick and somehow bat the damn puck is much harder in reality than what it seems as a spectator.  There was nothing glamourous about my first effort except that I did it and had the time of my life.

I can’t remember when I had so much fun.  The ladies were kind, gracious, supportive and generous with their encouragement.  It was one hour of bloody hard work and it was amazing.  I left the ice feeling immensely proud of myself for having dared to look like an amateur which is what I was and am.  This was me trying something new at 54. 

My other January challenge was to reach out to new people.  This was a stretch.

I had put out an email to a group of women who I have intersected with and suggested that we all go to a play. Culture is found 90 minutes away by car.  My invite was to get together and head in and have a night out.  The first day, there was radio silence. No reply is a reply. Ugh. And then…. three people said YES!

I offered to drive and the four of us loaded into the truck and headed into “town”.  Social settings scare me.  I struggle with small talk and tend to get too intense too quickly.  I know this about myself and was very conscious that people might feel trapped in the truck. I chose socially safe topics and focused on easy conversation starters. Weather observations took us through the first 20 km and the following 20km were easily absorbed by kids and family. It was going well.

For someone who is naturally self conscious and superbly socially awkward, this was a big deal for me and like taking up hockey, I was delighted to discover it was amazingly fun.  The play was great, and the conversation flowed.  I was also struck by the observation that each of my new traveling companions were also looking to stretch. They too were seeking new ways to connect. I wasn’t the only one learning what it was to get dressed again. Everyone was taking a chance. Connections were made and dare I say that the first seeds of new friendships started to take root.

Feeling bold, I was ready for the February challenge.  My youngest son Owen suggested backcountry skiing.  My family loves to backcountry ski.  I like apres ski.  I don’t know how to backcountry ski.  There is a ten year gap between our oldest and our youngest.  While my husband was getting our elder son and daughter accustomed to the backcountry, I stayed home and changed diapers.  That lag was large and I never got caught up.  When Owen asked for a family trip, as much as I wanted to say no, I knew I had to say yes.

On the morning of said trip, I woke up “sick”. I am pretty sure I had the flu and really felt that everyone should just go on without me. I lay there thinking how that would go down.  I was sick.  Surely Owen would understand.  Except that there was this small niggle that the flu was really just an excuse so I got up and got dressed.

Backcountry skiing is not for the faint of heart.  There is no chair lift and no nice attendant to help you get to the top.  You have to ride a snowmobile for about 10km to get to the trail head.  It’s cold.  My boots hurt.  I almost fell off and yes, I swore a great deal.

At the top, you put your skis on and you traverse the mountain.  I was sure we were lost.  On the first incline, it took me about 10 minutes to get up and I kept losing my ski.  F@ck.  This is a stupid sport.  Who does this?  Why would anyone push through heavy snow to get to the top to flop and stumble all the way down?  Ridiculous.

I didn’t love the experience but I loved being with my family and I loved watching their joy.  I loved watching how my husband effortlessly guided us through the terrain and I enjoyed the immense passion that my kids had for exploring the mountain.  I loved being together and part of something that they enjoyed.  It was a stretch but that is what I committed to doing.  I needed to get outside my living room and back to actually living out loud.

In the spirit of stretching and dressing, my second February task involved shopping. I know, many people love to shop. Not me. I would rather cut my eyeballs with a razor then go shopping. It’s the whole experience of choosing things and then trying them on and being immensely disappointed that even a mannequin is more stylish than me. Why is most of my wardrobe plain black? Because I know that everything goes well with white and can be jazzed up with a grey scarf.

Shopping is my life metaphor. I think it’s going to be amazing and then I try it on and it’s too tight or too weird or too old or too young. I really want to be that person that can make mixed patterns look super stylish. Instead, I resemble a rainbow that got caught up in the blender.

For this excursion, small modifications. I didn’t even wimp out and do on line shopping, I went into a real store and came out ten minutes later with a bag full of new stuff. Some of it even fit. I went out on a limb and bought patterned blouses and two pairs of black pleather pants that have become my new faves. Not only are they super sexy but even better…..ELASTIC WAIST!

I share all this because I have looked around and been so inspired but those that I love.  Friends who took up new hobbies when their careers came to an end or others who challenged themselves to start a new business or embark on new studies.  One friend committed to taking courses on landscape design not because they were looking for a job but because they were interested and wanted to learn more.  How fantastic.  How incredible these women around me are.  Stretching and reaching towards new challenges that would give them cause to stretch.  I want to be like them, I took their example and said, “Yes, me too”. 

There have been other small successes. Just last night I posted my first “tweet”. Social media scares me. I don’t really understand how it works. I was worried my posted comment would be on the wrong post and be out of context. I just found out that Instagram has a private message component and I have mail!

I used to be worried about making mistakes, being rejected or not being good enough.  Now I am worried that if I don’t take chances, I might be missing out on the thrill of trying new things. I am worried that life will pass me by if I continue to let fear and worry make my choices.

I am 54 years old and want life to be just a little bit more than cleaning my floors. Taking small steps towards a bigger life. I am letting go of caring about the outcome and taking pride in the effort.  If I stumble, I’m going to make it part of the dance. I have been touched by the number of people who are cheering me on and satisfied to see how others have taken up a similar challenge.  It’s ok to fall.  Just look left and I’m going to guess that someone will be there to help you stand up.

The “jump” is real.  Leaving the living room to get dressed and take up new things.  Some challenges are going to be worth it, others are going to be more like a “one and done” but I will take comfort that I gave it my best shot and take pride that I am not letting age and limiting perceptions hold me back. I am going to live larger than I gave myself credit for and continue to take inspiration by all the brave people in my life who choose to step out.

Here’s to trying new things and feeling brave enough.  No regrets.  It’s good place to be.  I’m getting dressed and finding what fits.

With love,

Shelley