The Penalty of Standing Out

I hate the way the world works sometimes. I hate seeing people in pain. I hate watching people getting picked on or bullied. I hate sin and wrong-doings in this world.

When I was going through my university years, completing my education degree, I had a desire to work with special needs children. It wasn’t because I looked forward to the extra work that often comes with special needs children, but because I wanted to make a difference. I knew special needs children were often put down and sometimes stared at as if the were a circus sideshow. I knew I could step up and be the voice of those children, and I knew that I could help those children feel as important as they are. But that’s not what happened.

At first I ended up teaching at a Native School. It took me awhile to learn the different dynamics needed to teach students who come from a history of anger. It was a definite learning curve in understanding the culture, the behaviours, and the thoughts about different things. But one of the things I found is that my classroom was often their safe place. My classroom was the one place they could count on someone being there to love them. I was a safe place for these kids.

Now as much as I loved being in that position, time would have me change again. This time, to a place where I wasn’t such a safe place. These kids did not need me (or at least felt like they didn’t). The attitudes were indifferent, the gratitude was gone. I really struggled at first to see how in the world I could make a difference when my students were convinced they had everything the needed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t my first year that I figured it out. It was my second and my third that really opened my heart. I realized that maybe I wouldn’t be able to reach all students, even though I try. But there is at least one in each class who needs someone they can trust; someone they can break down their barriers and let them truly see the inside that they keep.

It broke my heart when the first student really let me in their life. The amount of background some of these kids hide is disheartening. It sometimes makes you wonder how they even function. It’s no wonder some of them put up a tough-front at school. Some of them are simply caught in that worldly struggle: the one where they are fighting between being good and doing what they know is right, and doing what the world expects and wants them to do. Absolutely the struggle gets worse as the generations get older. It’s sad in the very least, but it does, unfortunately, exist.

I witnessed something that brought this whole thing up in my mind. A situation that brought up a whole slew of memories.

One of my students is running for class rep in the upcoming school year. She’s an awesome student, wonderful in both academics and her Christianity. Unfortunately, she is one in very few that does not struggle with desires to be popular. She will not swear because others are doing it. She does not talk about inappropriate things because she has no interest. She knows what she believes and she sticks to it. She knows what is right, and that is what she does. And it has made her unpopular in her class.

Today, the vote was completed. And though she almost perfectly fits the description of the position she is running for, more votes were left blank than were voted in favour. My heart sank and my blood boiled a little. If there were legitimately good reasons for not letting her have the position, then I would accept that. But I know it’s because they are upset the one person they wanted to run wasn’t able due to his grades. Whether it’s an expression of bitterness or anger, is it right to decline someone that not only wants the position, but is ready, willing and capable of doing it well?

I don’t know what the right solution is. After all, voting is an expression of your opinion. But my heart aches in knowing that the reasons behind the reactions are wrong. And that bothers me. Someone who perfectly is capable of doing something so well, being held back by unpopularity, is wrong. It takes me right back to my whole philosophy of teaching, and that is that students are capable of more than they are doing, and standing up for those who don’t have as much of a voice.

I grew up in public schools where situations are much worse than I have ever experienced in my years of private school. I have seen “losers” beat up for simply not being good enough for others. I have seen the separation and isolation of those who needed the extra pull-out help and did not think like the others. I have seen students dragged from classrooms because they were acting out in anger about their situations. It’s not pretty.

One year, we did a fundraiser where the boys provided a lunch, and we bid on these “anonymous lunches”. When the bidding was done and every girl had her lunch, then the boys would reveal themselves and we would share lunch with them. I just happened to get one of those classmates that was always taken out for extra help, and who had problems with his anger, reacting from the situations he was in and the way he was treated.

I will forever regret the way I treated him.

I didn’t say anything mean, but that’s simply because I didn’t say anything at all. I was silent the whole time. And now I cannot even go back and apologize for being “snobby” because he was killed in a car accident several years ago (I think I was still in high school). That’s guilt that I have to live with, and guilt that started to change the way I reacted to people.

The one girl that was dragged from our classroom was probably the lowest person in our class. She didn’t always take showers, and she didn’t come from the most well-off family. In fact, I actually don’t know how she was treated at home. But what I do know is that people didn’t like her and daily made fun of her. I will never forget the one day she came up to me and told me that I was her role-model. I didn’t try to be anyone’s role-model, I just tried to talk to her and be nice when others wouldn’t. And look at the difference that made on her life. The simplest of acts I could have done, and it literally changed her world.

Now I’d like to say others followed, but they didn’t. I’d like to say her life changed for the best, but it didn’t. I did manage to get in contact with her again during university, sadly to find out she was pregnant and the baby’s father wanted nothing to do with her as soon as she became pregnant. As a matter of fact, he ran out with another girl and married her very shortly afterwards. And to make matters worse, he called social services claiming she was an unfit mother and had her baby taken away. In no way did her life get better.

I’m sad to say I’ve lost contact with her. My only method of contact no longer seems to work. I do pray for her, that things work out and she’s able to have her baby back in her life. I know she was fighting hard for him. But I pray God’s love surrounds her and God-willing, I will be able to connect with her again.

I truly, truly do hate the world treats people that are different – people that stand out from everybody else. I had the position of popularity and I misused it once. But I promise to do my best to never misuse it again. When a situation arises where someone needs a voice, I wish to be that voice for them, to stand up on their behalf. Just because you don’t think the same as everyone else or do the same things everyone else does is not a reason to be treated so badly. Stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. Make a difference in someone’s life. Even if it’s just one person you’ve helped, you’ve literally just changed a person’s entire world. Do what you can and don’t delay. You never know the good you can leave behind.

When I Realized My Grandfather Really Wasn’t Coming Back

Something happened today that really jarred my memory and brought me to write this post. I saw the following picture on Facebook and it got me thinking about my grandfather.

It took me right back to the moments where I can remember thinking about him and instantly started crying. Even now writing this, I can feel the water filling up in my eyes. I know many of you will say that you have/had an awesome grandfather to, but I’d like to take a minute to tell you about mine, and how special he truly was.

I guess it starts when my mother became pregnant with me. My parents were not married. I guess my grandfather liked my dad, but he was very upset about the whole situation and didn’t talk to my mother for days. However, being the man that he was, he still bought her a crib and everything she would need for me, even though he wasn’t talking to her. He was always that way, taking care of things even when he was upset.

Of course, as soon as I was born, he was completely smitten. My mother is a child of two, but lived very much a single child’s life. She never met her brother as he died on a surgery table a few months after he was born. That meant, I was the first and only grandchild.

My parents didn’t stay together very long. They did get married after I was born, but separated when I was about 4, officially divorcing when I was around 5. Where do you think we went back to? My grandparents. In fact, their home was very much “home base” my entire life.

My grandfather always spoiled me (and later my other siblings). I have pictures where my toys barely fit in the picture with me. My father told me that I would get tired of opening gifts because there were simply so many. I had this 6″+ man wrapped around my tiny finger. There’s no denying he loved me.

My grandfather was a used car salesman. In fact, it was my mother’s company that he worked for her since she dropped out of college to be home with me. The company was even named after my sister and I. But eventually he took over the company and changed its name since he did become the only one running the business.

I used to love visiting him at his office. My grandmother and I would get lunches for him, he would let me sit in his office chair, I would be called his “Number 1 Dudette”, and I loved the fact that everywhere we went, people always knew and respected my grandfather, and thus treated me as if I was a special person. I had never met anyone who didn’t know or like my grandfather.

If you could imagine the biggest realistic playground in the world, that would be my grandfather’s car lot. He gave me access to all the keys and vehicles in his lot. I can still remember the amount of fun we had pretending to drive the cars, and especially in exploring the only RV I remember him having. Only once did he ask me to backup a truck into a corner spot. My mother sat in the passenger seat with me, and I remember learning really quick to use my mirrors. I was so scared I would mess up his vehicles in this tight spot. But I did it! I still can’t believe he trusted me…

If I could compare him to anything, it would very much be the godfather. I’m not joking when I say that everyone seemed to know who he was. He was an amazing man when he was happy, but he was always a man you feared when he was unhappy. I don’t remember him every getting mad at me, but it was a general rule that when he came home, the remote control to the television had to be in the right spot for him to lay on the couch and watch what he wanted. He became upset if the remote went missing. There were just certain things you knew not to do.

Sometimes, my grandmother and him would fight. I’m sure there’s not a couple in the world who has not at least had one argument. Sometimes, or maybe more than sometimes, this meant he would stay at his office for the night. It was a conveniently built, small building that contained 3 rooms and a tiny hallway. One room was “the office”. The second room was of course a washroom. And the third room was his bedroom. It contained only a tv, a bed, and a mini fridge. It pretty much had everything he needed if he needed a night away. So it was a fairly normal occurrence for him not to come home sometimes.

The best thing about my grandfather was that he was always there for us. There was a time when we didn’t have the most money, and work was slow. My grandfather always provided what we needed, and then some. Most of you know that I have moved like 20 times with my family, not including on my own. The one person who was always there, regardless of where we were, was my grandfather. He never missed an opportunity to come and stay with us. (Of course I should say my grandmother always came with him as well, but I will dedicate a post to her another day.) He was honestly one of the biggest constants in my life.

When my family made the official decision to move from the east coast to the west coast, my grandparents offered to bring my sister and I out at the end of summer so that we could spend the extra time with our father. It was a fair bit of a long drive, but even then my grandfather trusted me with reading the map (before GPS systems). I almost think his belief in me helped me grow to the independent woman I am today. I have a lot to credit him for.

They stayed with us at our new place for a few days. Early in the morning, him and I would get up and drive to a hotel or another homey restaurant to eat. He was not a chain-restaurant type of person. Even back in the town he worked, he had one particular restaurant he preferred to eat at, and everybody knew his specials and what he enjoyed eating. He always preferred the homestyle cooking. In fact, he met my grandmother while she was waitressing at such a type of restaurant. My family and I have visited that restaurant a few times and imagined what it must have been like. They still have the juke boxes and the old stools. Sometimes it’s nice to preserve history rather than to embrace change.

We then took a trip to the “big city” so my grandparents could see it before they left. We had a lot of fun. At one point, we lost my grandfather in the big mall. I’ll never forget him driving around on those motorized scooters for people who can’t walk well. He had even gotten an orange smoothie and I guess spilled it all over the machine. If you knew my grandfather like I did, you would picture him using colourful language for the time he was mad, then acting like nothing ever happened.

I don’t remember how we ever found him, but I can tell you it was one of the hardest good-byes of my life.This wasn’t just moving a few hours away, this was a four day drive across the country. Of course they would come visit again, but the visits would never be as frequent as before. What I didn’t know was that my tears would get worse before they ever got better.

Literally two or three days after we returned to our new home, I got a call from my grandmother. It sounded like her for sure, but something was a little different. She asked to speak to my mom pretty much right away, so I gave my mom the phone and sat on the landing of the stairs. My mother took the phone into her room which was at the top of the stairs. The next words I heard told me pretty much everything I didn’t want to hear. She said, as she began crying, “Oh Mom!”.

My grandparents had been involved in a car accident on their journey home. An impatient driver went in their lane to pass a semi-truck and didn’t see my grandparents van coming at them. My grandmother was in the hospital, a little bruised but otherwise ok (she would later need nose surgery to correct the alignment). My grandparents’ friend who was helping them drive home had so many broken bones, including ribs and shoulder, and would also need counselling for what happened (he was driving at the time – completely not his fault). But my grandfather didn’t make it.The speed they were traveling on the highway, and the impact of a completely head-on hit left the vehicle in shambles and took my grandfather with it.

Immediately, we packed and drove back to the city. I thankfully had a great aunt and uncle who lived just outside the limits and welcomingly invited us in until we could all make arrangements to fly home. My mother was able to fly right away to be with my grandmother, but there were 4 more of us to fly, and we had to wait for a cheaper ticket to afford it.

It was so strange when I got home. Being in my grandparents house seemed so normal. I mean, I was only at my “new home” for less than a week. I had no attachments to it and didn’t even have to act like it was supposed to be my new home. I had come home and it felt like life should be normal again.

I know I cried a few times, but I remember just having the attitude and thoughts of “My grandfather is just at his office, staying the night like he usually does. Sometime he’ll come home.”

I still remember it as clear as yesterday: My mother and I were sitting in the living room, on separate couches, not talking much as we didn’t for a while, and her saying the exact same thing that I felt – that Grampy was just at his office and sometime he would come home. And it hit us right then that we had to realize it was wasn’t true, that Grampy really wasn’t coming back. I broke down (just like I am again now) because he was always there, for everything! How could he not come back this time! How could the one stable thing in my life not come back! It was so hard to accept.

Sitting in his house, seeing all of his old stuff, going to his office, it was all so hard to do when you realize the person who has always been there for you, the person who has loved you your whole life was suddenly gone. My nickname would never be used again, except when telling stories of him. My promise from him of giving me my first car would never come true. My life was drastically left with an empty hole that I’m not sure was ever filled again. Nobody could take his place, and I could never have been prepared for that instant change in time.

Life is not fair, and it never will be. The devil is waiting for any opportunity to attack and make a mess of things. He knows which strings to pull and he knows how to make things hurt you more than anyone else. He knows he can damage us and take away everything that means the world to us, which is why it’s so important to turn to God when you’re hurting, to let Him hold you and tell you that everything is going to be ok, because one day, it will. One day, when Jesus returns and we are taken to Heaven with Him, there will not be anymore pain, there will not be anymore death, there will not be anymore tears. I don’t know what my grandfather’s relationship with Christ was like. I know he sort of had a falling out at one point, but he insisted my mom make sure she took us to church. So I only hope and pray that he had a good relationship with God, because it would be so nice to run into those loving arms I miss so dearly, the loving arms that were missing during both of my graduations and my wedding, the loving arms that were taken away from me way too soon.

I miss this man more than anything, and truly just thinking of how much I miss him brings me to tears almost instantly. Hold your loved ones close and make sure you let them know how important they are to you. You never know which instant will take them away.

Day 11 – Weight Check-In

I haven’t mentioned anything about weight so far because I wanted to see what would happen. After all, I’m used to counting calories, believing in a “Calories-in, calories-out” deficit system which I have not been doing at all. I’ve simply been trying to eat raw until 4, and everything vegan. I eat until I’m full, and that’s about it.

Well, I’m happy to announce that I’m officially 11 pounds under my heaviest (a couple months ago), I don’t have 5 pound variations from day-to-day, and I feel so much better! How exciting is it that I don’t have to feel like I’m starving, and yet I’m losing weight! I have more energy (compared to calorie restricting), and I just all around feel better. It’s amazing. I really don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner.

Upon waking, I had a long drink of water. It’s time to get the body hydrated.

For breakfast, I had a deliciously juicy organic cantaloupe. It was SO good! I also had an organic honeydew that was the juiciest, sweetest honeydew melon I have ever had. Thank you Organic Box!

For lunch yesterday, I had another fresh beet, carrot and apple juice with a veggie wrap. My fail was that I ate a doughnut right before, and regretted eating it while I ate it. I also ate a little too close to my workout and thus felt too full while exercising, but stills was able to punch out a good workout. I did lunges, toe-touch jacks (a new favourite), side planks, push-ups and overhead squats. It was an excellent circuit and built up a good sweat. And where would I be without doing my chiropractor’s exercises. She has bumped me up to another level which are essentially harder versions of the ones I have been doing, so I’m working on conquering those.

After I finished my workout, I laid down to take a nap, after drinking some water of course. I slept for quite awhile. After sundown, my husband and I talked for a very long time, too long in fact. We got ourselves to the point of starving. It’s a known fact when you feel like you’re starving, you make bad choices. And that’s exactly what we did. We ordered in.

I didn’t do as well as last time. In fact, I did awful. I had veggie pizza (with cheese), I had jalapeño poppers and brownies. I felt so unbelievably greasy and yucky. I can’t believe I did this! Ugh.. Need to never do this again!

Day 1 in Review

Hello everyone!

As promised, I will tell you what my days are like, and what I may struggle with.

I have gotten quite a few ideas from different vegans, however, today I decided to go with Freelee’s sample meal plan in a way that I could do it.

For breakfast, I’m having pulpy orange juice. That way I’m still getting in some of the fibre, and filling up on some yummy oranges. She suggests drinking 2L just for breakfast! I would have loved this as a kid, and still enjoy it today! I don’t think this is something I will do everyday, simply because I know it is important to get the full fibre in of a full fruit, but every once in awhile, it’s a nice, healthy “treat”!

For supplements with my breakfast (I’ll quit taking them as soon as I run out though…), I’m taking 2 probiotics (to make sure my digestion doesn’t do anything funny on the switch in diet), biotin (for hair and nail growth), and vitamin D (it just snowed again today!). I am planning on taking vitamin D still on days that I don’t get outside in the sun much, and also planning on taking B12 which apparently is difficult to get enough of on many different diets, not just vegan. Aside from those two, I will not continue the others once I am done with them, unless I need to. I also took two green chews (using to help me adjust until I’m eating a sufficient amount of greens each day), and some multivitamins (which I will also stop taking once they are done).

For a snack, I again took Freelee’s suggestion and drank some more pulpy orange juice. Like I said, it’s amazing! But I don’t think I would do this more than once or twice a week. It’s good to get a variety of fruits and veggies in too!

In total, I drank approximately 2.63L of pulpy orange juice. I did not even feel hungry at lunch! I’m in love.

Now, I was little worried that because I was drinking so much orange juice, and no water, that my urine would show up as dehydrated (darker yellow). After all, as a kid, you grow up thinking this is the case, usually because it’s not pure orange juice you were drinking. But nope! It was really clear. I was very hydrated! That’s the power of real things (no additives).

I got really busy at work (teaching, of course), and did not get a chance to eat anything else throughout the afternoon. I thought I had a deadline for certain files to be in my students’ records. Although I was done getting them to do their part, I wanted to grade them quickly before I sent them to their files. So I was grading like a mad-woman! When I was done with one stack, and about to tackle the next (after school), I took the one stack to our special needs coordinator. She was so excited I was done with them and was the first one. I looked at her and asked her why I was the first one when the deadline was tomorrow. She then proceeded to tell me the deadline was a week from tomorrow. I had the date completely wrong! Ugh… Oh well, I’d rather have things done earlier than later. I didn’t mark the second stack though. I went home.

I was so hungry when I came home, and so excited at the same time. I had just subscribed to a service called The Organic Box. They deliver fresh, organic produce to you once a week. You’re able to customize that you want, and it’s just amazing. So I got my first box today, and was so excited as I brought it in the house and was taking everything out. In fact, it inspired my supper.

For supper, I had a big salad with 50/50 mixed greens from Organic Girl, berries from my Organic Box (blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, strawberries), rainbow carrots from my Organic Box, field cucumber from my Organic Box, some sunflower seeds and soya nuts that I had, and topped with a mixture I made of avocado, salsa, lemon and a touch of vegan cream cheese. Oh it was so delicious and fresh tasting. Absolutely loved it!

Unplanned, but when we got to the gym, they have a Booster Juice and my husband wanted one of their smoothies. They have these vegetarian wraps that are super tasty, so I got one of those. I’m not sure this was vegan… That was my mistake. I will have to check another time.

My workout went well. I did a 10 minute warm-up on the treadmill, did some push-ups, some kettebell and 10-lb plate squats (hold the plate straight out in front of you), planks, foam rolling, shoulder rolls, standing alternating toe touches, my chiropractor exercises, and a 20 minute brisk walk on the treadmill.

Usually when I do cardio, I take it as my chance to read. I’ve conquered quite a few books this way because I have so much going on the rest of the time. Right now, I’m reading a book called “Skinny B***h”. I don’t swear, ever, so I will not type it out, sorry. But it is a super good book so far (minus some swearing/harsh language), but the information is awesome. The two ladies that wrote it are actually vegan and they explain why they’ve made this choice and why people should make that choice throughout the first chapters of the book. Love it.

After we came home, I took some mini, organic sweet potatoes that I had and cooked them up. One had gone mouldy in the bag, but didn’t seem to effect the others. I was so deceived. I cooked up about four of them, took them out of the peel and mashed them together, had a couple good bites, then took a bite that was potently terrible. In fact I had to spit it back out, clean my mouth out, gargle and the works. Oh that was so terrible. I didn’t go on eating anything more last night. That had ruined my appetite.

Following this, I went to bed.

My New Experiment: Fruit

I think it’s time for a little background:

I grew up a hunter’s daughter. My father grew up a lumberjack’s son. He learned quickly in life that there was not a ton of money, and so my grandmother grew a vegetable garden, and whatever my grandfather was able to hunt was the meat they served (rabbits, deer, moose, partridge, etc…).

Thus, I grew up a heavy meat eater. In fact, stews or beans with biscuits, and the typical “meat and potatoes” were quite frequently a supper meal. Of course with the younger generations and slightly more money, pizzas and junk foods made their way in the diet as well. But it would not be uncommon for me as a child to sit down and eat a pound of bacon myself. That’s just the way it was.

I remember when I met my first vegetarians. They were like celebrities to me because the only people I ever knew of that would even think of not eating meat were celebrities. Nobody in the “real world” would ever think to live without eating meat. It must surely be a way to die!

However, seeing these people live, and healthily, gave me a spark that continued to grow. One morning, in my teenage years, I simply woke up, and told my mother never to make meat for me again.

Did I exactly know what I was getting into? Absolutely not. In fact, eating some vegetarian junk food without learning the proper way to eat healthily vegetarian landed me with intensive stomach pains and a visit to the hospital where the doctor informed me of some key staples I should be eating to be healthy. Oops. Learned that lesson the hard way.

And so it began. A somewhat healthier 10-11 years of being a vegetarian. Cold turkey. No going back.

It wasn’t until I met my husband, and found out he had grown up vegetarian that I went back to eating meat. Sounds weird, I know. But he met my family at my university graduation weekend, and my stepfather is notoriously known for his bbqing skills. My brother convinced him to try a “real” burger, and he was hooked. Of course, eventually it got to me, and I began eating meat again.

Of course, since I had been studying the Bible more and learning about healthier ways of eating, I still did not eat pork or animals considered “unclean”. I stuck with the basics of chicken, turkey, beef, and some fish. I am an Atlantic girl, and fish (specifically Atlantic Salmon) has always been a favourite.

Now recently, I’ve been reading and studying more into health. I’ve been looking at vegan diets, raw vegan diets, the details of what is going on with the meat that is served to us these days, the packaging, the handling, the processing, all of these things that are completely vital for us to know truly what we are putting in our bodies. And I’ve come to a conclusion: I need to get rid of the meat and animal products.

I could go on forever and ever about the toxins, poisons, and everything that is being put into animal products. I could tell you all about the fact that the majority of the meat we buy in stores has already gone bad and we don’t even know it. I could go on and on about how safety inspections are unrealistic, and how really, at the end of it all, we can only do the best we can with what we’re given. A hot topic, especially for someone who works out is of course how you get in enough protein.

But I’ve decided, the only true way to convince people is not a lecture, but to simply be a living example. And that is what I’m going to do.

Now, my husband is not quite on board with me on this, and I have promised to never ask him to change. If my life leads a perfect example, I figure that should be proof in and of itself. But little by little, he seems to be a little more supportive, though maintaining zero interest in it for himself, which is totally fine.

My plan is to still workout, to still continue researching how to eat properly, and to still continue on with everything else the same, except for how I eat. One difference. I’m getting the junk out of my system!

If you’re interested in this topic and wanting to know more yourself, the following are some of the links that I refer to frequently:

1. http://thebananagirl.com (she has other links from this site as well)

2. http://veganbodybuilding.com (some athletes even provide examples of their daily meals in their profiles)

3. http://www.thefrankmedrano.com (a man who chose to become vegan)

There are many more, but those are just a few to get started. I will keep you posted on how this goes!

#onajourneybacktoEden