I was hit by a car recently. I'm badly bruised (and when I say badly, I mean that I look as though someone took a baseball bat to my legs below the knees) - but otherwise basically unharmed. Definitely a blessing, all things considered. I don't want to harp on the injuries, or the pain. That's not my point...but suffice it to say that the pain was pretty brutal the first few days, and I'm still limping almost two weeks later. Pure frustration for someone who enjoys 5-10k runs at least twice a week.
It's the moral dilemma, though, that's plaguing me more. In this money-starved, self-protecting, individualistic society, it would be ridiculously easy to file a personal injury claim and walk away with several thousand dollars. According to the financiers I work with, that number is actually probably closer to several tens of thousands of dollars. The accident was, after all, very much the fault of the driver. She has a careless driving charge against her that includes a court date for which I have been summoned to testify. I have horrific bruises, which I have made sure to document every few days as they blossom from black and blue to hues of lilac, lavender, olive and chartreuse. Literally. My legs are multi-coloured. As the firefighter so aptly put it when examining my legs at the scene: "Thank goodness it isn't summer...because believe me, these legs are not going to be pretty for a while."
There's the part of me that agonizes, "justice, Julia? or mercy?" I can't help but think of the poor woman and her scream of terror as my face hit her windshield. I firmly believe that she never saw me until that moment. So. Isn't that image, the image of my bloody face, enough? Do I need to drag her through civil court in order to feel that justice has been served? Do I really need money from her (or the insurance company)? Isn't that egomaniacally self-seeking? Even as I've contemplated this over the last few days, one of my best friends related how she'd heard the story of a woman who'd hit someone with her car. Weeks later, the woman was still traumatized and wracked by feelings of guilt.
My point exactly.
On the other hand, I haven't slept well since it happened - if I'm not seeing a car coming at me whenever I close my eyes, I'm tossing and turning for hours because I'm used to being far more physically active on a daily basis than I'm able to be right now. A double layer of tensor bandages still adorn my lower legs ("you sure you don't want shin guards?" asked another friend's gym teacher father) and add to that the comment made by one of my incredibly well-meaning co-workers: "Julia. How badly do you want to move to London?" (is that even fair?). I'm confused.
What should I do?
I've been forgiven of more
Than I could ever be angry for
Instead of judgement I choose mercy
Mercy,
Laura Woodley Osman
Friday, February 27, 2009
Friday, February 06, 2009
loss
Not a whole lot to say, other than it's over. It's over. Finally.
Now, if only my heart can realize it the way my head has.
Loss
this ache
catches me unaware: a flash
of blue
roses, hung
upside down
in my stomach, lumps
in my throat, tears
I swallow hard
against bile, rising
retching dreams: nothing left now
to spit out.
empty.
do I believe, again: can I
hope? tell me
how.
Julia Hendrik
January 8, 2009
Now, if only my heart can realize it the way my head has.
Loss
this ache
catches me unaware: a flash
of blue
roses, hung
upside down
in my stomach, lumps
in my throat, tears
I swallow hard
against bile, rising
retching dreams: nothing left now
to spit out.
empty.
do I believe, again: can I
hope? tell me
how.
Julia Hendrik
January 8, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
the merits and pitfalls of introversion
So I've discovered something. Officially. No physical exercise and no musical outlet make this lady one very, very unhappy person. I guess I discovered some of that before, but it's been reinforced time and time again over the last couple of years. Especially now. Living on my own, I have perhaps felt the need to socially overbook myself in order to make sure that I maintain contact with people: otherwise, I would be sorely tempted to become a reclusive hermit who lives curled up with a book, candles and an ever-replenishing mug of hot tea.
Instead, I have found myself not even having enough time to go to the gym for a week at a time...not having enough time to journal, to write, to sing, to play violin, to take the stretch class that will prevent the migraine headache, to go for the run that will effectively exercise the mental angst. But wait. It is not that I don't have enough time. It's that I am not making the time. My own need to be perceived as a constantly busy social butterfly has never been more tangible than it is now (read: just look at how well Julia is coping!) - yet I get burnt out, exhausted, irritable, when I don't get alone time.
But I am not an extrovert.
I repeat: I am not an extrovert.
I'll clarify. To the dictionary.
extroversion
(noun)
the act, state, or habit of being predominantly concerned with and obtaining gratification from what is outside the self
introversion
(noun)
1 : the act of directing one's attention toward or getting gratification from one's own interests, thoughts, and feelings
2 : the state or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one's own mental life
(from Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary)
At the risk of sounding completely self-centred, I'll elaborate. I'll attempt to explain my justification for why I am so completely an introvert. I like people. I really do. But I don't get my energy, my joie de vivre, so to speak, from being around people. In fact, very often, I find it exhausting. As in, somebody-hand-me-my-book-and-my-mug-of-tea-so-that-I-can-relax-by-myself-for-an-entire-day kind of exhausting. Don't talk to me, please don't touch me, and basically leave me alone. However. I don't really think it's egomaniacal self-absorption and/or self-gratification that has me spending time with "one's own interests, thoughts, and feelings"...or that I'm "wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in" myself alone. It's that I need my time to myself to recharge before I can be ready to handle interaction with other people, as dearly as I may love them.
And there's something else I've realized, too. There's only so much being busy and hard-assed I can handle before it hits me that I'm not even being real with myself any more. Spending time on my own is, more than anything else, a reality check that tells me just how good I am at pretending. I can bury myself under mountains and molehills of my own making: constantly busy days, glossed-over demonstrations of my own competency and capability, showcases of my ability to handle anything and everything...but...then reality bites. I get bogged down by pretenses of my own construction, and the world threatens to overwhelm yet again. Ever-resilient, emotionally-detached Julia suddenly is a force of feeling to be reckoned with - and I can't say that the feeling is always positive. More often than not, the assumed apathetic complacency disintegrates into a vortex of cynicism and regret.
Songs, both the lyrics and the music, are often what do me in. Hence the song lyrics that have inspired and culminated every posting I've written thus far. So, here's another.
He is jealous for me
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy
When all of a sudden
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
And I realize just how beautiful you are
And how great your affections are for me
We are His portion and He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean we're all sinking
So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way
That he loves us
How He Loves,
John Mark McMillan
Instead, I have found myself not even having enough time to go to the gym for a week at a time...not having enough time to journal, to write, to sing, to play violin, to take the stretch class that will prevent the migraine headache, to go for the run that will effectively exercise the mental angst. But wait. It is not that I don't have enough time. It's that I am not making the time. My own need to be perceived as a constantly busy social butterfly has never been more tangible than it is now (read: just look at how well Julia is coping!) - yet I get burnt out, exhausted, irritable, when I don't get alone time.
But I am not an extrovert.
I repeat: I am not an extrovert.
I'll clarify. To the dictionary.
extroversion
(noun)
the act, state, or habit of being predominantly concerned with and obtaining gratification from what is outside the self
introversion
(noun)
1 : the act of directing one's attention toward or getting gratification from one's own interests, thoughts, and feelings
2 : the state or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one's own mental life
(from Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary)
At the risk of sounding completely self-centred, I'll elaborate. I'll attempt to explain my justification for why I am so completely an introvert. I like people. I really do. But I don't get my energy, my joie de vivre, so to speak, from being around people. In fact, very often, I find it exhausting. As in, somebody-hand-me-my-book-and-my-mug-of-tea-so-that-I-can-relax-by-myself-for-an-entire-day kind of exhausting. Don't talk to me, please don't touch me, and basically leave me alone. However. I don't really think it's egomaniacal self-absorption and/or self-gratification that has me spending time with "one's own interests, thoughts, and feelings"...or that I'm "wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in" myself alone. It's that I need my time to myself to recharge before I can be ready to handle interaction with other people, as dearly as I may love them.
And there's something else I've realized, too. There's only so much being busy and hard-assed I can handle before it hits me that I'm not even being real with myself any more. Spending time on my own is, more than anything else, a reality check that tells me just how good I am at pretending. I can bury myself under mountains and molehills of my own making: constantly busy days, glossed-over demonstrations of my own competency and capability, showcases of my ability to handle anything and everything...but...then reality bites. I get bogged down by pretenses of my own construction, and the world threatens to overwhelm yet again. Ever-resilient, emotionally-detached Julia suddenly is a force of feeling to be reckoned with - and I can't say that the feeling is always positive. More often than not, the assumed apathetic complacency disintegrates into a vortex of cynicism and regret.
Songs, both the lyrics and the music, are often what do me in. Hence the song lyrics that have inspired and culminated every posting I've written thus far. So, here's another.
He is jealous for me
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy
When all of a sudden
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
And I realize just how beautiful you are
And how great your affections are for me
We are His portion and He is our prize
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean we're all sinking
So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets
When I think about the way
That he loves us
How He Loves,
John Mark McMillan
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
bittersweet symphony
Photography, Jessica Balfour, Kelowna, BC
Source: http://www.jessicabalfour.com/
"Imagine if these moments could last forever."
bittersweet
(noun)
something that is bittersweet ; especially :
pleasure alloyed with pain
(adjective)
being at once bitter and sweet ; especially : pleasant but
including or marked by elements of suffering or regret
symphony
(noun)
consonance of sounds... a musical composition... consonance of colour (as in a painting)...
something that in its harmonious complexity or variety suggests a symphonic composition
(from Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary)
If there is a word more appropriate than bittersweet to describe how I feel about looking at the home page of this website, I don't know what it could possibly be. Just look at me...
Beautifully innocent.
Blissfully naive.
An exquisite mixture of moments weave the tapestry of life.
It is a symphony of memories, both bitter and sweet, in which I find myself drowning these days; yet, it is through this cacophonous, dissonant array of melodies that I will learn to hope once again.
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life
Bittersweet Symphony,
The Verve
Source: http://www.jessicabalfour.com/
"Imagine if these moments could last forever."
bittersweet
(noun)
something that is bittersweet ; especially :
pleasure alloyed with pain
(adjective)
being at once bitter and sweet ; especially : pleasant but
including or marked by elements of suffering or regret
symphony
(noun)
consonance of sounds... a musical composition... consonance of colour (as in a painting)...
something that in its harmonious complexity or variety suggests a symphonic composition
(from Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary)
If there is a word more appropriate than bittersweet to describe how I feel about looking at the home page of this website, I don't know what it could possibly be. Just look at me...
Beautifully innocent.
Blissfully naive.
An exquisite mixture of moments weave the tapestry of life.
It is a symphony of memories, both bitter and sweet, in which I find myself drowning these days; yet, it is through this cacophonous, dissonant array of melodies that I will learn to hope once again.
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony this life
Bittersweet Symphony,
The Verve
Monday, December 29, 2008
horseshoes in the street
Yesterday was the annual Christmas gathering of the girls with whom I've been friends the longest. How amazing, how refreshing, to get together over chicken pad thai and Christmas cupcakes (and the Dashwood sisters of Sense and Sensibility) and laugh.
And laugh. And laugh...
I won't pretend that Christmas was the easiest this year, or that I didn't have my moments of grief and regret...but I can say that the company of good friends has been and will continue to be a source of joy and strength. It's easy to forget how many memories we've shared: last night, watching a candid video taken last year, I realized just how many of those moments we've had over the years. Unforgettable, genuine moments that serve as the best reminder of how incredible true friendship really is...from horseshoes in the street to clutch purses and brick fireplaces and noses on faces and so many other inside jokes that there are too many even to recall.
This year has been about friendship. I am lucky to have such incredible people around me...and while perhaps that list of people is not endlessly long, the relationships I have cultivated have grown increasingly deep and meaningful. What a blessing it is to have people who know me inside and out, who laugh with me and cry with me, who mourn the loss of what was before and hope with me for whatever may come next.
Thank you.
Lean on me when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on
Lean on Me,
Bill Withers
And laugh. And laugh...
I won't pretend that Christmas was the easiest this year, or that I didn't have my moments of grief and regret...but I can say that the company of good friends has been and will continue to be a source of joy and strength. It's easy to forget how many memories we've shared: last night, watching a candid video taken last year, I realized just how many of those moments we've had over the years. Unforgettable, genuine moments that serve as the best reminder of how incredible true friendship really is...from horseshoes in the street to clutch purses and brick fireplaces and noses on faces and so many other inside jokes that there are too many even to recall.
This year has been about friendship. I am lucky to have such incredible people around me...and while perhaps that list of people is not endlessly long, the relationships I have cultivated have grown increasingly deep and meaningful. What a blessing it is to have people who know me inside and out, who laugh with me and cry with me, who mourn the loss of what was before and hope with me for whatever may come next.
Thank you.
Lean on me when you're not strong
And I'll be your friend
I'll help you carry on
For it won't be long
'Til I'm gonna need
Somebody to lean on
Lean on Me,
Bill Withers
Thursday, December 11, 2008
departure (all that will be left behind)
For every new beginning, there is an ending...a door closing, a chapter concluding. This has certainly been the case in my life of late, as seasons change and this year rapidly draws to a close.
Thank the Lord. I cannot even begin to express the sense of relief and liberation I feel, the tangibility of limitless possibility for my future. Yet even as the year ahead brings with it fresh outlook, perspective and hope, the end of this year is, for me, a time to grieve the things that were...the things that are no more...the things that will be left behind.
Perhaps this says it best.
It’s over now
It’s come full circle
The end is near
The end is here
But I am okay
I am all right
I have shed tears enough to soak the desert
Cried enough to wake the dead
You have slumbered on in stubborn silence
Lying in your still dry bed
Your heart of stone
Your brittle bones will break yet
They will break yet
But I am okay
I am all right
You made your choice
Left me no voice
But I am screaming now
I am screaming out loud
You can’t hurt me any more
You won’t hurt me any more
You can’t hurt me
You won’t hurt me
But you’ll hurt
Your heart of stone
Your brittle bones will break yet
They will break yet
But I am okay
I am all right
It’s over now
It’s come full circle
The end is here
The end is near
It’s over now
Bones,
Julia Hendrik
Thank the Lord. I cannot even begin to express the sense of relief and liberation I feel, the tangibility of limitless possibility for my future. Yet even as the year ahead brings with it fresh outlook, perspective and hope, the end of this year is, for me, a time to grieve the things that were...the things that are no more...the things that will be left behind.
Perhaps this says it best.
It’s over now
It’s come full circle
The end is near
The end is here
But I am okay
I am all right
I have shed tears enough to soak the desert
Cried enough to wake the dead
You have slumbered on in stubborn silence
Lying in your still dry bed
Your heart of stone
Your brittle bones will break yet
They will break yet
But I am okay
I am all right
You made your choice
Left me no voice
But I am screaming now
I am screaming out loud
You can’t hurt me any more
You won’t hurt me any more
You can’t hurt me
You won’t hurt me
But you’ll hurt
Your heart of stone
Your brittle bones will break yet
They will break yet
But I am okay
I am all right
It’s over now
It’s come full circle
The end is here
The end is near
It’s over now
Bones,
Julia Hendrik
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
arrival
After years of discussion and deliberation, I have finally arrived in this previously daunting world of blog. It's rather a propos, at this time particularly, to be vulnerable, naked, exposed: to have my honest reflection (or, at times, tortured introspection) be readily available for virtually uncensored comment and critique.
How terrifyingly, dreadfully exciting.
What an excruciatingly long season of painful struggle, heartbreak and reformation it has been. Yet I am beginning to rise from the ashes of this purging fire through which I have walked (and sometimes crawled)...slowly, surely, I am emerging, having found strength I could never have imagined, peace I had never known.
I'm getting there.
Beauty for ashes
Strength for fear
Gladness for mourning
Peace for despair
Beauty for Ashes,
Crystal Lewis
How terrifyingly, dreadfully exciting.
What an excruciatingly long season of painful struggle, heartbreak and reformation it has been. Yet I am beginning to rise from the ashes of this purging fire through which I have walked (and sometimes crawled)...slowly, surely, I am emerging, having found strength I could never have imagined, peace I had never known.
I'm getting there.
Beauty for ashes
Strength for fear
Gladness for mourning
Peace for despair
Beauty for Ashes,
Crystal Lewis
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