Contentment

Contentment

I turn 45 this week. I’ve been thinking back to when I turned 37 and my life began to change dramatically. It’s hard to believe that 8 years have gone by since then. I read once that it takes 7 years for a new city to really feel like home and I believe that to be true. I’ve been living now as my authentic self for the last 7 years and I’m finally beginning to settle in and enjoy myself.

The biggest thing I did at the age of 37 was create boundaries. I had existed my whole life without any clear idea of where I ended and someone else began so boundaries were brand new and terrifying to me. Thankfully, my amazing counsellor Joanne explained what healthy boundaries looked like and she helped me find the courage to set them and hold them when they were tested. This process helped me take control of my time and safeguard my emotions. It saved me.

I also began to experiment with saying no when I didn’t want to do something. A few months ago I looked back over my calendars since 2011 and I felt weary just paging through the many obligations, committees, coffee dates, church activities, etc. that I used to do. Learning to say no and not stress over the other person’s reaction to my decision has liberated me and I’m incredibly grateful.

Perhaps this also falls under boundaries and saying no, but over the last few years I’ve made hard choices about the people I allow into my life and these decisions have made me so happy. At first, it was painful and isolating, but over time I could feel my soul healing as I recovered from the intense people pleasing that had been my key mode in the early years of my life. Choosing not to have negative, draining, selfish people in my inner circles has made room for so many positive, kind, generous ones to take their place and my health is better every single day as a result.

Turning 45 marks a significant point in my life. I’m working steadily in the Vancouver area as a background performer in film and TV and I feel so alive as I walk out my biggest dreams. I worked on a big show a few times this month and while waiting for the bathroom at the studio I stood outside of the writers’ room, listening to them have a story meeting. My spine tingled with the excitement of it, and the thought “one day I’ll be in a writers’ room” didn’t feel far-fetched in the slightest. Instead it seemed inevitable.

I just finished my first semester of my university creative writing class. I know it’s not polite to brag, but finishing with a mark in the mid-nineties was reassuring after so many years away from school. Right now I have the feeling that I’m in the sweet spot when it comes to decades of pursuing writing, speaking and film work. It’s coming together, in a satisfying and unforced manner, and I am so content.

It’s only recently that I’ve actually decided to enjoy my life as it is, not how I once dreamed it could be. Chasing an elusive someday stokes up discontent and sadness. Staying present to notice what’s working well and paying attention to those you love who also love you in return is worth its weight in gold.

Here’s to marking the middle of my forties with gratitude, warmth and light. Our world needs us to be operating at our healthiest and happiest capacity. As a friend posted the other day, “Water only what waters you. Let go of anything that leaves you feeling thirsty.”

A New Love for Poetry

A New Love for Poetry

I’m absolutely loving my university Creative Writing class this fall. My professor has taught me so much that I didn’t know or had never considered about writing.

Every writer has bad habits and weak areas. I knew this going in. Anyone who has had a professional editor look over their work will be familiar with the red marks on a page or Google Doc, highlighting for all the world to see the words you tend to overuse and abuse (mine are “all” – used in the previous sentence for shit’s sake – and “too” and for some unknown reason I use “tiny” way too often…sigh).

But in this class my mind has been blown wide open by imagery. I’ve knowingly underused imagery in my work, justifying it by telling anyone who would listen that “I’m interested in the inner landscape so I don’t waste time describing setting and characters.”

Such horseshit. Now I see what I’ve been missing out on. It’s like a giant puzzle piece, sliding into place, informing every area of my writing by upping my game when it comes to descriptive imagery. Particularly in poetry and the art of the short story.

From grade five through second-year university, I attended small evangelical Christian schools. It’s possible I’ve simply blocked it out, but I honestly don’t recall learning anything about poetry in my school years. I grew up with a certain disdain for poems, believing them to be inscrutable and pretentious.

And now I’m studying poetry at the ripe old age of forty-four, twenty-five years after I left university, and I’m blown away by how much I love it and how naturally it comes to me (now that I’ve been challenged to use concrete words and images instead of the abstract ones I’ve been fond of for so long). It’s like a whole new world and I wonder why I waited so long to dive in.

I’m reading poetry, and I’m writing poetry, and I’m knee-deep in the joys of juxtaposition, wordplay and double meanings. It’s fun. And with every word I write, and each new contest I enter, I’m feeling stronger and more confident as a writer.

This is where the good stuff is. It’s in the learning curve, the challenge, the messiest parts of our lives. Approaching writing as if I’m new to it has given me a fresh interpretation of the craft and the process. I feel like I’m in Oz, peeking behind the curtain, and marvelling at the nuts and bolts of building stories, worlds and emotions on the page.

I can’t wait to see what’s next. Bring it on.

Going Back to University

Going Back to University

I’m going back to university this fall to finish my undergraduate degree.

I have one and a half years of college completed, but it was A) many moons ago and B) taken in the United States so most of it won’t transfer to Canada, which essentially means that I’m going back to school to start fresh on a degree that I was partway to finishing twenty-four years ago and didn’t complete.

But it sounds better to me to say I’m going back in order to finish, as attending school part-time in my mid-forties is a daunting task. I may still get some credit from my transcripts, but even if I don’t, I’ve decided to stop waiting around to complete this life goal (or at least inch toward it).

Our biggest goals are funny entities. At times, they feel so close we can touch them, and other times they elude us and drive us mad with frustration. One day this spring I realized that I’ve been talking about going back to school for so many years and no time seemed quite right to do it.

I did return to Weekend University in Calgary in 2009 but after one course I decided to put it on hold as running a home business, working part-time at a local newspaper, writing and managing life with a 6-year-old and a 3-year-old proved too much for me. At the time I thought I’d take a break for a year or two and then return when life settled down but suddenly 8 years went by and I realized I’d done nothing to get me closer to graduating with a Bachelor of Arts.

So I’m doing it now. My writing and speaking careers are chugging along, with small, happy milestones along the way to my biggest dreams becoming realities. Ava’s acting career is moving forward and I’m busy taking her to auditions and working with her agent on submissions. I’m getting a few days work here and there as a background performer in movies and TV shows. I just formed a production company with two people and I’m screenwriting and producing short films. It’s all an incredible amount of fun and feels like the right combination of tasks for me to be doing.

Returning to university, even for one class a semester, is equal parts terrifying and exciting. When I said this to my friend Pam, she responded, “Well, Julianne, if you aren’t terrified and excited you aren’t really living life to the fullest!” This helped to encourage me, probably more than she knows.

Ava is 14 and in a few years we will be touring colleges and universities for her. I won’t be anywhere near done my degree by then but at least I’ll be plugging away at it, chipping away at this goal that fell by the wayside for a number of (mostly) valid reasons so many years ago. I want to continue to challenge myself, to prove that I can do things that are way out of my comfort zone.

I can learn. I can work hard. I can dream big. I can model what I believe through my day-to-day actions. This time around, my degree will be in Creative Writing instead of Communications. It’s been a long and winding road to find my way back to my true self and to develop the courage to grow into my biggest dreams. I’ve never been happier.

It’s time to stop talking about this particular goal and get inching toward it. Better late than never.