the more people let me into their lives, the more i'm aware of the paralysis that often comes with a broken heart.

life is full of disappointment. that person who promised to never leave you, leaves you. the one you thought was 'the one' had a few other 'ones' on the side. you didn't get that job you were banking on. the word you feared when you got your test results back came out of your doctor's mouth. and the list goes on.

i'm not trying to be depressing here, just realistic. life can be painful and unfair sometimes. just watch the news, or, if you want to be more current, more '2013', scroll through your facebook newsfeed. people are crying out for help.

so what do we do? what can we do?

i don't know about you, but my words come up short in times like these. i sit and listen to what my friends are saying [and not saying], and my immediate reaction is to try and say something so wise that their problems wash away.

i've learned something valuable along the way, though. being there for someone - like actually being physically present - can speak more comfort to a broken heart than any word we try and come up with in the process.

sometimes it's best just to ... show up.

1) tomorrow is not guaranteed.

one of the 'clients' at a women's recovery home i used to work in passed away this week. i can't help but think about her and how much of a fighter she was. naturally, i can't help but think about death either, and how important life is. we never really know how much time we have to impact another life. make today count.

2) progress.

a situation happened in my life recently that was extremely similar to one that happened months back, only this time i responded differently. last time, i responded emotionally. this time, rationally. i took a deep breath, processed it, and acted accordingly. i'm constantly striving to be better, and do better, so it's encouraging to see some growth.

3) the critics.

“it is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” [theodore roosevelt]

there will always be critics. but they don't count ... unless we let them.

love changes people.

i was walking to the elevator the other night at 3:30a.m as i often do after work. to my surprise, a young girl approached me and asked me if i had a smoke. i looked up, noticed her mascara stained cheeks and tear washed eyes, and asked if she was okay. "i just want to go home", she said. my heart sank. i asked if i could hug her, she said yes, and clung to me as if she hadn't been hugged in a very long time. and with that, she said, God bless", and skipped down the hallway. love changes dispositions. love changes people.

there seems to be quite the disconnect between my head and my heart these days, causing me to feel trapped in this frustrating place i like to call the 'process pathway'.

my heart tells me that many people love me, but my head tells me otherwise. and quite honestly, so does circumstance sometimes.

really though, how is it that i have dedicated my life to investing in people, and yet, when it comes down to it, i have no one to bring me ginger ale when i'm stuck in my room for three days with the flu, and/or heat stroke and dehydration?

i get it. people are busy with work and their own families. but what's the point in investing everything i have into people [which comes with sacrifice at times], when i don't have anyone to take care of me when i need taken care of?

even a phone call would have sufficed, or a simple, 'how are you feeling, paula? can i do anything?'.

i sit here battling many things as i type this. do i keep investing in others to the degree that i do without expecting anything in return? you know - 'be the change that i wish to see in the world'? - or do i shrink back and stop investing in people to the degree that i do in order to protect my already calloused heart?

now before you get all spiritual on me, christian folk, i'm fully aware that jesus invested in people without expecting anything in return, as i'm equally aware that he willingly invested in people he knew would betray him and turn on him in an instant, which blows me away every time i think about it. but i'm not jesus, and neither are you. [it was not my intent to offend anyone here].

truth be told, i bet if you were honest with yourself, you could admit that you, too, expect some kind of return for your relational investments, and feel 'jipped' if your investment isn't reciprocated to some degree, no?

i don't know. maybe i'm way out in left field here. [hopefully the same left field that rajai davis is in].

better keep processing.

please note: this blog wasn't written with anyone specific in mind.

i've been sitting here trying to pound out a blog that could adequately describe how i've been feeling these past days, but my words have come up short. instead, i choose to kind of re-post [and by kind of i mean change it a bit] a blog i wrote back in december.

i, paula isabella, struggle with a disease called 'premenstrual dysphoric disorder', and wish more than anything that i didn't. [sorry, fellas, i promise not to get graphic].

in grade eight, i had my first bout of depression. i had no idea where it came from either. i was in the running for female athlete of the year [at 32, i still 'got game'] and an english award, i had friends, good grades, you name it; but all of a sudden, this 'thing' hit me. i went from feeling happy to hopeless, and though i didn't know it at the time, deeply depressed, which seemed to be a monthly battle from there on in.

fast forward to my 27th year. i was living in edmonton at the time and hit my deepest bout of depression yet. after spending four very long days in bed [and 15 years battling this demon], i decided that i needed to get some help. days later, i began tracking my moods on a calendar.

if i had a good day, i drew a happy face. a normal day, a normal [?] one, and when i felt depressed, i drew a sad face. it didn't take me very long to realize that these episodes were surrounding my bless-ed period. [again, sorry, fellas].

so i did what any one of us would do: i googled it [which i don't highly recommend as it usually leads you to a hypochondriac who convinces you that you have some form of cancer]. i very quickly came across a disease called 'premenstrual dysphoric disorder', and within minutes, had the answer to the question i was asking myself all of these years: "what the heck is wrong with me?"

i took my findings to my doctor, was diagnosed with PMDD almost immediately, and put on a mild anti-depressant for six months to help me cope.

in addition to this, i started seeing a counselor and began looking at ways in which i could combat this battle of mine every month.

six months later, as mentioned above, i was taken off of the anti-depressants and began fighting this demon with the tools i had been given through counseling. i had good days and bad days. i lost some friends, and quality of life, but i finally came to a point years later where i could function during these two weeks each month, even though my emotions were still too intense for me at times.

thankfully, my last bout of depression was august 2010 [right before i moved to ottawa]. I WAS FINALLY FREE AND HAD NEVER FELT BETTER. i felt content. happy. fulfilled even.

then my dad passes away. add that to the fact that i was working for an unhealthy organization, and BOOM - all of a sudden my emotions become even more amplified and i no longer [feel like i] know how to cope with life. and soon after, the depression episodes reappeared.

i withdrew. cried myself to sleep more often than not. felt hopeless. suicidal even. i tried everything. praying. reading my bible. all the things people in the church have told me i need to do in times like this. only nothing seemed to be working. life just kept getting darker and darker.

i went on meds for a bit, but soon came off of them once my pharamicist informed me that the dose i was taking would take a 'very long time to work, if at all'. i tried counseling again, only to end up counseling my counselor. [no joke]. so i sit here feeling lost again.

it's an odd feeling knowing in your heart that you have so much to be grateful for [and i do], but having your mind constantly tell you the complete opposite. for the past few days i've had this lingering voice telling me that i'm unloveable/not good enough/a failure, and truthfully, i don't have much fight left in me today to tell it otherwise.

but i get out of bed and fight any ways, hoping that i'm just a few short days away from feeling like myself again.

i constantly wrestle with the gap between expectation and reality.

some of you know what i'm talking about. your expectations are high [or sometimes even realistic], but reality doesn't match up, leaving you lingering in this huge gap of disappointment and frustration. i find myself here more often than not when it comes to a few areas of my life, and truthfully, i`m unsure how to break free from it.

as a server, i expect to be tipped.

at the risk of sounding overly confident, i am good at what i do. i genuinely care about the guests that walk in, i'm energetic, attentive, and, as a little girl said to her dad most recently as i walked away from the table, "so nice".

i work hard for my money.

but the reality is, for whatever reason, some people just don't tip, and instead of walking away proud of myself for the way in which i served, i walk away angry and frustrated, say my piece to whoever will listen, and move on to the next table.

i reached my maximum 'blow up' point the other night when i received three non tipping tables in a row, followed by a 14 cent tip on a $60.00 bill and a $3.00 tip on an $80. i walked away questioning why i do what i do, and seriously contemplated quitting. [please note: i usually only serve once a week and manage the rest, so i rely heavily on my tips to get me through certain weeks].

i expect people to tell the truth.

i've always been a straight shooter [with more tact nowadays, thankfully] so i've never understood lying. in fact, i lied once in 2007 and still think about it to this day. no joke.

i was standing with a group of my friends in college one day when one of them turns to me and says lous enough for everyone to hear, "paula, do you have any gum?"

of course i had gum - i always did - but i, knowing that i only had two pieces left, said, "no, sorry, i don't".

that was it. that was the lie that haunts me to this day, and will more than likely go to the grave with me.

does it really matter if someone lies about gum? meh, there are worse things in life. but what if someone you love and trust gets caught in a more serious one? i can't help but take it personally, and if i'm honest with myself, i don't know how not to.

i expect to lose weight.

ever since my dad passed away from a heart attack just over a year a go, i've been on this huge health kick. i started motivating myself using vi shakes, which worked wonders, and slowly started to change my eating habits since. most recently, i started going back to the gym and on monday i start kickboxing. aside from my cheat day each week, which i think we're all entitled to, i am quite disciplined with what goes into my mouth. and i have never felt more proud of myself.

but then i put the same pants on every day [well, not the exact same pair lol] and ... nothing. no progress whatsoever. it's as if i've hit this plateau; this grueling, frustrating plateau.

and lastly, i expect way too much from myself.

this probably doesn't surprise you after reading my 'i don't have any gum' story, but i'm way too hard on myself. even as i sit here and type out this vulnerable post, i see that. truthfully, my biggest frustration isn't the fact that people let me down [as i, too, let others down]; my biggest frustration lies in the fact that i let myself get so worked up about such petty things and take things way too personally.

people don't leave me crappy [or non existent] tips because i suck, nor do people lie to me for the same reason. people are simply human, and i`m just as human.

i so desperately want to be known as one who extends grace. to others, yes, but also to myself ... even, and especially, when i find myself stuck in the frustrating gap between expectation and reality.

“man is a great wall builder
the berlin wall
the wailing wall of jerusalem
but the wall most impregnable
has a moat
flowing with fright
around his heart
a wall without windows for the spirit to breeze through
without a door for love to walk in.”
- oswald mtshali

it's scary how introverted i have become in the past little while. i've always treasured alone time, but lately i've been craving it way more than usual. maybe it's because my heart is surrounded by walls like the above poem states, or maybe, just maybe, i'm in need of a recharge. either way, holla for PAULAday. and PAULAtime. and PAULA.

but if i'm completely honest with myself, i have lonely moments, too. moments where i wish i could call up a friend and grab a coffee, or talk, or just show up at a friend's house like we did back in the day before the cell phones we heavily rely on existed.

it's a catch 22, really. i build walls up around my heart to prevent myself from getting hurt, and yet i'm dying for someone - anyone - to break them down.