To the fresh-faced high school senior

"University is gonna suck you lifeless."

Of all the many interesting, horrifying, and amazing sentiments that I have heard about university and what my life will be like post-high school, this was probably the one that I was scared of the most. Scared of, admittedly, but also curious. I was incredibly curious about this one, wondering if it was indeed true, and it also made me wonder if university was going to turn me into a jaded, education hating zombie that would eventually be toting around  thousands of dollars in debt while working in a field completely unrelated to my studies.

They tell you so many things about university; but, isn't it so remisicent of what they told you in elementary school? "They won't hold your hand anymore," "They won't spoon feed you information," "You are responsible for your own homework," "You can't mess around anymore," ... the fear mongering is endless, and it all pops up again once high school students reach that coveted senior year and contract senioritis. They are itching to get out of the plastic chairs and high pitched warning bells to a place much cooler, much more independent, and much more adult-like.

To the fresh-faced high school senior, get ready for the shock of your life, because university is gonna suck you lifeless.

But, that's only true if you let it.

You see, I was a good kid growing up; or rather, I would like to think of myself as a good kid. I was one of those kids that never cut class (well, except that one time in senior year, to which I say I'M SO SORRY, MOM AND DAD), always got my homework done, got straight A's (at least once PE wasn't mandatory anymore), and had good relationships with teachers. I volunteered and had extra curriculars to pad my resume. I had some work experience and was making decent money (for my age) even before I got out of high school. I tossed that mortar board, shook a few hands, and walked out of that auditorium with a diploma and a few scholarships. I was so, so ready to get out of high school. push past the immature teeny-bopper drama that I had gotten myself into and start my new life as a fierce and independent university woman.

I was so freaking cocky.

Confidence is one thing that I wish for all of you to have: when you walk into a room, own it. But, beware that you don't mix up confidence with cockiness.

I knew, coming into university, that I was set - financially, grades wise, confidence wise, even potentially looks wise to find new friends. They tell you in high school in passing how much work there is in university, but what they failed to mentioned (or maybe, what I failed to listen to), was that high school work is pure peanuts compared to that of university. And probably somewhere down the line, spoiler alert, they're gonna tell you that university is SMALL PEANUTS compared to true adulting and work in the real world.

I was cocky. I thought, who needs to read this text book? Who actually spends weeks in advance doing their assignment that's due in November? Who actually, and I mean actually, plans out their essays? And really, 6 pages? No big deal. This is child's play.

And just like that, everything burst into flames and university did, indeed, suck me lifeless.

In my first semester, I got hit with my very first F in my entire life. I had barely passed a first year Statistics exam, but due to the ever life screwing-over-bell-curve, I failed. And this is a person that has never received anything lower than a B. I was devastated.

On top of that, my writing skills apparently sucked and they landed me shitty grade after shitty grade. 6 pages in my first year was apparently incredibly difficult (and, spoiler alert again, the papers get longer!), and I didn't really get first year literature. You know how we have a syntehsis portion on the English 12 provincial? I rocked that exam like it was nobody's business. But here I was at the end of first year, struggling to write a 10 page synthesis paper. I stayed up until 1 in the morning, two days before it was due, bawling my eyes out. I had no ideas, no plan, no thesis, and no paper.

To add further insult to injury, I was behind on readings for all my classes. Weekly readings averaged to around ~40-50 pages x 3 reading intensive courses resulted in me, literally drowning in words that I didn't understand. In grade 4 I was invited to take part in an accelerated writing and vocabulary class, and we worked with Wordly Wise 3000. I was a real smart ass, learning words like "dilapidated" and "pseudonym". Fast forward to me being behind on all my readings, and my vocab list wasn't as great as I once thought it was.

To the fresh-faced high school senior, please don't be like me circa first semester.

Despite my atrocious habits, I got by with some B's and even an A-, but I knew that if I had applied myself more, I would have been even better. And once I did apply myself in the following semester and year, I saw myself getting better and better.

Of course, you might shrug and say that the grades aren't the only thing you are after. And this is where I say that confidence matters. If you are looking to make great and lasting friendships, be confident and say hi to people in your classes. Coming from 20 person classes to 200 person classes can be extremely daunting. Take a bold step and say hi. Start a conversation. Join clubs and get involved in school. Volunteer and get yourself out there; who knows, your bold step might open up pathways to best friends, job opportunities, even a potential soul mate.

To the fresh-faced high school senior, enjoy the time you have in high shcool while it lasts.

Just so you know, your desk space doesn't really get any better from what you're dealing with right now; in fact, some might say that it's even worse. Enjoy the community that you have grown up in and the friends that have stuck with you for the past chapter in your life. No matter how good technology gets, unfortunately it's easier to be friends with people that are within your vicinity. I'm not saying to cut off all ties to high school and start anew with a clean slate in university. But, love the people that you're with. Smile more, say hi more. Mend broken friendships and rebuild bridges, Don't let petty drama like wearing the same dress as another girl at grad, love interests, and other things get in the way of one of the greatest parts of your life. Because let's face it: once you get out into the semi-real world that is university, your life will be turned upside down. Your study habits change, your schedule changes, your friends change; hell, you change.

Get ready for bigger and better things, my friends. As long as you apply yourself, keep your cockiness in check and really enjoy life, it'll all be alright. University will only suck you lifeless if you let it. But if you stay grounded, I've also heard it said that university is one of the best times in your life.

Make it happen.

x R

Better late than never: I'm in love with God, 20 years later

Now that I'm officially in finals mode, I made myself a list of things to do before tonight. But this post should have come much, much earlier - as in Easter weekend earlier. School just became a bit of a mess once Easter ended, so I'm so, so sorry about that.

Second, a quick shout out to my fellow friend and blogger Brenna and her most recent post about the temptation in our lives, as she has filled the gaps in my incoherence and has practically written what I was struggling to say. You can read more of her wonderful posts on her blog here.

Okay, here we go.

El and I, circa 2006. Note El rocking the knit vest.

As I draw closer to my 20th birthday, I've become more and more pensive about my life journey, particularly the past decade of my life. From the moment I turned 10 and entered the tumultuous world of the "double digits", it occurred to me in a plain fashion that this was where I was going to stay. As in, I more than likely will not see my 100th birthday, and I'm not really sure if I would really want to.

But I digress. Turning 10 was a defining year, not because of the double digits but just merely because that's when everything started changing. From my own body to the world around me, things started to move rapidly, and sometimes I felt like I was left behind. Admittedly, aside from a few critical junctures, I don't really remember anything before turning 10 years old. I would call that decade of birth to the day before turning 10 development.

"Tumultuous" really sums up my 10th birthday up until now, in one simple word.

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The word "tumultuous" is defined as "excited, confused, and disorderly." And my life was exactly that. As I grew up and things started changing around me, I felt lost in my own self and the environment that I had grown so comfortable in. In a sea of confusion, I was in a tiny boat that had no anchor for me to throw down so that I could regain my orientation.

The chapel at The Grotto, Portland

As I sat in the darkness at Easter Vigil, I thought about all of this. It was interesting, at least to me, how uncomfortable I felt with my faith even though I grew up in a Catholic school. It didn't make any sense to me, how being surrounded in the faith would push me away. But to this day, I have no resentment against my Catholic school upbringing, as it has brought me so much other joy. However, this was my challenge growing up: I didn't fully understand everything. And of course, there is no way to fully understand God's love - it is called a mystery, after all. But I guess the difference was that even though I knew I wouldn't be able to understand everything, I never made the effort to try.

My relationship with God was "tumultuous". There were periods of excitement - retreats, conferences, et cetera, et cetera - but outside of these one off experiences, there was confusion and disorder.

I went through high school religion and going in to it for the grade, and not for the grace. 

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I didn't believe that God loved me. Me, in a sea of 7 billion people. How could He possibly know me by name, all of my heart's desires, and have a plan for me? I was reminded of this day in and day out, but I never fully bought it. This lack of trust and lack of grace thrust me into a lot of trying times, time when I questioned if God's GPS for me was recalculating and just plain stuck. And with each instance - bullying, death in the family, break up with a boyfriend, drama with friends, disordered eating or self-harm - I was pushed away even more. Where was God and His love when my grandfather got dementia, and couldn't even remember any of us anymore? Where was God and His love when one of my exes forced me to have sex, and hurt me when I said no? Where was God and His love throughout any of this?

I left high school as a person who was broken, and even though I had a sense of direction with what I wanted to do, I had shattered God's compass for me.

In an unlikely turn events, as I met new people in university, a secular environment, I felt so compelled to tell people that I was Catholic. It was something so foreign to me, as I never had to explain that to anyone growing up. And through this sudden burst of honesty, I made friends and lost some. As this honesty grew, it felt like there was something inside me that was itching to get out. But something was still missing deep inside of me.

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I was invited to join Catholic Christian Outreach and I began studying with them. With each week I surrounded myself with people who were so on fire for their faith was exciting, but all the same confusing for me, as I had no idea how I too could achieve the same sense of love and faith.

When one of the missionaries asked if they could pray over me, I was a little apprehensive because I had no idea what it would entail. But as the prayers were said, I felt an unbelievable sense of calm wash over me. Suddenly, it felt as if all the doubts I had about God's love was washed away, and my eyes were opened - if only a little bit.

It was then that I began to get more active and began to help out with youth ministry at Precious Blood. But something was still missing.

I know that I am a sinner, and I know that the past 20 years have been marked by constant mistakes and failings. And despite the beautiful sacrament of reconciliation, I didn't feel like I was getting any closer to God. In fact, I was always scared of it.

The Upper Gardens at The Grotto

So this year, when time for Lenten confession came around, I was scared, again, because I didn't see how this was going to be any different from before. But God must have sensed this, because as I knelt down, another wave of honesty came over me and I was telling the priest everything. I finished by saying that I didn't believe that God has a plan just for me.

The priest contemplated everything that I said, and then he pointed behind me at the Crucifix that hung on the wall of the church. "That is how we know God has a plan for us."

When I looked back at him with confusion, he continued: “No cross is greater than the sins of mankind. And you don’t need to worry about a cross being too heavy, because Jesus already carried that cross for you. 

"Jesus could have stayed in heaven and dictated everything from above. But instead, He went about it the most difficult way possible so that we might have hope."

Wow.

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So back to Easter Vigil. My family spent Easter weekend in Portland, at The Grotto of Our Lady. I was contemplating the words that the priest had left me with during that confession, and I thought about the whole purpose of Lent, the Triduum, and the celebration of Easter. 40 day of waiting. 40 days of sacrifice and prayer. Jesus spent 40 days in the desert, choosing not to eat or drink and fending off the devil. He died on the cross for everyone, past, present, and future. To show His love for us, He went about the most difficult way possible - the ultimate sacrifice, He laid down his life for our own.

Such a simple, yet complex truth. And the greatest thing is that He doesn't want us to feel guilty for it, or to put ourselves through the same excruciating pain. What He does want for us is to to our best, return back to Him when we fall astray and remember always that His ways are not our ways.

I don't have all the answers, and I will never fully understand why God does the things that He does. I have faith that He has something bigger than I can even comprehend, and I pray for the grace to accept His plans humbly. 

With this new found confidence in my own faith journey, I look forward to what's ahead beyond my 20th birthday.

Be bold & know that He is always for us,

x R

A Man, A Boy, and Paddy Cake

I met the most wonderful guy on the bus the other day.

This isn't a prospective cute guy for myself; after all, he was with his adorable two year old son.

This morning it was pretty gloomy. It was raining after a stretch of pure sunshine, and I didn't have an umbrella. I'm waiting for the bus at about 7:30, frustrated that I had missed an earlier bus and at the fact that I had no umbrella to shield me from the rain. Suddenly this man walked up, wearing a short sleeved shirt and shorts, pushing a stroller with a bouncing blonde boy sitting in it.

It was impossible, even in my bad mood, to ignore the smiling boy. What drew me in even more was the adoring look on his face, and the infectious smile that the boy had.

The dad was playing a video on his iPhone, and the familiar strains of "patty cake" began to play over and over. As the song began to play, the dad began to sing along, with his son attempting to catch up with him. On a gloomy day, this was a shot of sunshine in my life.

I began talking to this dad, asking him about where he was taking his son at such an hour. His son had more energy than any person on the bus at that time, and despite the dad's energetic and happy demeanor, there was a look of tiredness in his eyes.

Giving his phone to his son, the dad turned to me and said that he was dropping his son off at daycare before he went to Surrey Memorial Hospital. After asking if he was a doctor, he laughed and shook his head no.

He began to tell me about how he was a single father, taking care of this boy. In an ultrasound before the birth of his son, the doctors warned them that the boy may be born with serious birth defects, and were given the opportunity to abort. That was the make or break of our relationship, he told me. I wanted to keep him, but my fiancee wanted to abort. 

Shortly after the baby was born,  healthy and normal, she still broke up with him, leaving him to raise this baby boy on his own. 6 months later, he said, he was diagnosed with cancer. He had his ups and down with the treatment, and despite his remission after his son's first birthday, his cancer returned and spread violently. At the moment, he was going to Surrey Memorial for a chemotherapy treatment. I didn't want to pry and ask what his current situation was, but noting the look in my eyes, he quietly told me that he had Stage 4 terminal cancer. He had been given one and a half to two years to live. Despite all this, he would take his son every day to day care before he went for treatment or running household errands. He would get up every morning at 5, warm his son's bottle and food, pack his son's bag (with his son's favorite yellow sweater inside), wake his son up at 6 and got him ready to catch the bus at 7:16 AM. And on the bus every day, they would watch the same video and play paddy cake.

He did that every single day.

In my silence, I reflected on my shock. All I could think of was his son - barely two year old - and what could happen to him. I thought about the dad himself, how difficult this must be for him to raise his son and potentially not be there for his son anymore.

In those moments, words don't even begin to cover the feelings or sentiments that can convey your sympathy. His quiet words, after a beat, said it all: "Am I angry? Yeah. I won't be able to coach my son on the sidelines, teach him the alphabet, help him drive and get him a girlfriend. But that doesn't mean that my whole life stops because I'm angry... he needs me. And all I can do for him is give him all of me before I don't exist."

After he said this, his stop had arrived. Slowly getting up, he pushed his son's stroller towards the door, telling him to say goodbye to me. As they got off the bus, an overwhelming feeling of sadness came over me.

Life, as I have seen, is so unpredictable. Even the most mundane tasks and routine can be taken for granted. I began to realize how discontent I have become with my 6 AM radio wake up calls, 10 minutes spent in front of an open closet and the same breakfast foods. I have become resentful of the same dinners, the same pathways to the bus and the usual ways I waste my time.

This man taught me that even something so repetitive can be an experience. I could tell that he was afraid of what was to come, but at the same time, he showed no weakness. He cherished every day and every action with his son, every last one of them, no matter how small or annoying. 

If this man could be so joyful and cheerful in the face of disease and turmoil, then I, a person in good health and good life, should be even more joyful. Yet, this man has shown me that life is short and unpredictable. There is no time to be resentful, upset or angry at small things. After all, the more time we spend being angry or holding grudges, the less time we have to enjoy the beauty and company of people and things around us.

Enjoy your life, every last bit of it. I thank this gentleman for reminding me of an obvious and yet profound truth - thank you, thank you, thank you.

x R

"Puberty? No Thanks."

On the radio at work the other day, an interesting story caught my attention and I stopped to take a listen.

A mother in Denver, Colorado publicly chastised her 13 year old daughter who had created a Facebook page, posed as a 19 year old girl and posted racy photos of herself on that page. When her mom found out about this page and the fact that she had befriended older men that were more than double her age, she took to Facebook. Posting a video of her openly reprimanding her daughter, mother Valerie Starks pointed out different things - her daughter's true age, her bed time, what she watches on TV - that would hopefully clear the air that this girl truly is 13.

I am not here to discuss whether or not Valerie Starks' chosen method of punishment is fair or not, while that is an interesting topic of discussion. What I do want to talk about is the 13 year old girl.

I have never met this 13 year old girl before. I don't know her situation, what is going through her mind and the troubles that she has been through. And some how, knowing this information may be able to help answer the question why. Why did she make this Facebook page? Why did she pose as a 19 year old girl? Why?

In a previous post I marveled at how girls seem to be maturing at double the speed that I was. When I say maturing, I mean the clothes they wear, how they talk, how they present themselves and what they do in their spare time. It is quite shocking to be scrolling through Instagram or Facebook and see girls that I have seen growing up in elementary school, and all of a sudden, they are going out to parties or spending afternoons with their friends downtown.

But the biggest thing that surprises me about this 13 year old girl and other girls of similar age is the fact that they seemed to have bypass the whole adolescence and puberty stage and went straight to being teenagers.

In a time when the world is so focused on consumerism and instant gratification, I have begun to brush shoulders with younger girls inside of H&M. I would be waiting in line at Starbucks sandwiched in between the tweens of today. They would be going to the parties that I have never gone to.

I might be a tad jealous. Just a bit. But at the same time, I feel sad for the up and coming generation.

The biggest part of life is growing up. Growing up has it's perks, but it also has its ugly sides. One of those ugly sides is the awkward stage of puberty.

I loathed puberty. The minute I turned 12 it seemed like it all went down hill from there. It was like the universe was taunting me, saying "Hey, happy birthday, here is a storm of nasty things for you to enjoy for the rest of your life." And those nasty things included angry hormones, acne, untamed eyebrows, weight gain and continually looking flat as a board.

Of course, all bad things come to an end and eventually pass as well, and the golden age of 15 seemed to be when puberty began to bite the dust inside of me. Now, I can confidently say that I look more like a girl, and I can also very confidently say that I do not miss puberty one bit.

Having said that, one can't just bypass puberty. You can't take a pass on it, say "thanks but no thanks" and pretend like it doesn't exist. Because like it or not, you are growing up and when you grow up, a lot of things change. It is a rite of passage and coming of age thing.

So seeing girls at age 12 or 13 who wear make up, have flawless skin and are wearing clothes that I wear now is disheartening. I can't blame them for their good fortune. However, the disheartening part comes from the fact that many girls have rushed through this "coming of age".

What has forced girls to grow up so much faster than they need to? Instead of complaining about not having enough books to read, more and more girls are now concerned about what selfie they should post on Instagram. All the worries that a typical teenager would have seems to be universal across all ages of walking and talking girls, and the younger ones are starting to catch on.

I'm not saying that we need to hold on to all of our young girls and shield them from the outside world or only let them go out when they turn 20. What I hope is that girls don't feel the pressure to grow up too fast. Because let's face it, even with the restrictions that some of our parents may give us when we are young children, the life of a child is not hard at all. There is little responsibility and little risk of anything harming us. Entering into a world of social media, pop culture and consumerism can be challenging to navigate and keep up with. But young girls (and I mean real 12, 13 year olds) shouldn't feel this pressure that they have to shop at Forever 21 or have Instagram accounts.

Life is beautiful, and all girls are beautiful. Life is a process, and going through it helps you to grow and prepare for what lies ahead. And truthfully, I would have loved to skip puberty altogether, but I know that without it, I would not get to where I am today. Every day  I learn something new, and throughout puberty I learned more and more about self-awareness and self confidence.

What you wear should not define you. What social media you have or don't have should not define you. Whether or not you wear make should not define you. Your age, your weight, your height - none of that should define you.

You should be defined by who you are. We need to be the generation who is comfortable in our own skin.

Whether or not this 13 year old girl posed as a 19 year old girl because she was insecure, not feeling the adolescence life or just wanted to get back at her mom does not matter. What I hope for her, and all young girls, is that they remember that you are all wonderful and beautiful people. Puberty will pass and you will survive (living example: me). You will outgrow the awkwardness and begin to look normal (another living example: me). And in retrospect, it's not all scary. In fact, it is a life changing moment when you begin to realize that you are growing up. This growing up thing happens inevitably, and when time passes, you can't get it back. Enjoy the time that you have right now, regardless of age. You will only be 13 once - embrace it!

Never be ashamed of your age - you are special, unique, and the world needs you to be that way!

     then vs. now   

Your favorite teenager (who can't actually claim that she is a teenager anymore),

x R