I’ve completely abandoned this one. Come check out my new space: angelaunsworth.ca
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I’ve completely abandoned this one. Come check out my new space: angelaunsworth.ca
Like it, follow it, read all about it!
“I stood staring at the bath, then she told me to get naked and get in it, so I did.”
If I hadn’t already wondered if this meetup I chose to attend was a bit on the weird side, this guy’s story convinced me.
What meetup? Well, let me tell you!
When I first moved to Victoria, I knew one person who lived in the vicinity and had just made some new friends with my coworkers at my new job. I have a pretty diverse range of interests (who doesn’t?), and I wanted to build a larger social network around them, so I could have touchpoints everywhere. My solution? I joined meetup.com, a resource that lets you find local groups based on your interests to meet like-minded people.
I was off to see the wizard
The closest upcoming meeting that piqued my interest was for a witchcraft group. I had an idea in mind about how this group would look; I imagined people my own age who were maybe dressed like Stevie Nicks, or like Brad Pitt in Interview with the Vampire, so I signed up. I’m always full of realistic expectations.
The meetup was going to be held at a fairly public coffee shop, and I made the decision to, at the very least, walk by and see what the group looked like. If everything looked okay, I’d go in. I’m not sure what wouldn’t be okay, but I’ll leave that up to your imagination.
Peeking through the window a few minutes before the event was set to start, I saw a group of four people whose ages ranged from 45 to 90 years old. They seemed harmless, so I took a deep breath and went inside.
I wandered in and acted like I owned the place (a new tactic I’ve taken to pull myself out of any social anxiety I might feel – act like you’re way more comfortable than you are and then others assume you are fine and don’t feel additional pressure to try to include you), smiled at everyone and asked if they were part of the witchcraft meet up. They all smiled, welcomed me and invited me to sit down and join them. I grabbed a tea and settled in to make some new friends.
The facilitator of the group was a woman in her early 40s, curly brown hair, warm smile, the type of person you immediately feel comfortable around. She started the conversation by asking us what drew us to the group and what our experience was with witchcraft.
We went around the room, beginning with a woman beside me who reminded me a lot of Katey Sagal as Gemma in Sons of Anarchy (I was immediately inclined to like her), and then to a white-haired woman whose age I couldn’t guess. Both of them had standard answers (as standard as you can get for discussions around magic), describing how they got involved, and created rituals for themselves that included meditation and interests in energy practices like Reiki. Next, the facilitator moved to a man who looked to be in his late 80s or early 90s.
Let the good times roll
He shared his story about discovering witchcraft in England, in the late 50s, at a time when it was still considered underground and people didn’t really talk about it. It was difficult to find any covens, and then harder still to be involved with them. He managed to do so, meeting a man around his same age at the time who said he would help him get connected.
It started with an initiation, which involved being picked up in the dead of night by a car full of men. They drove him to a house in an unfamiliar part of town and dropped him off, telling him to go to the door. He was left alone there, so he went up to the house and knocked on the door, which was answered by a woman wearing an ankle-length robe. She led him towards a bathroom where she directed him to take off his clothes and get in the bath.
As an aside, he mentioned that a bath in the 50s, with the way plumbing was behind the times in England, were usually a “fill up the tub once” type of affair, and that other people had already bathed in this particular bath during the course of the day.
After the bath, he was given a robe to put on, then was blindfolded and led into the basement.
At this point in the story, the woman facilitating the group stopped him and continued to ask the group why they were interested in joining. The only person who hadn’t responded yet, was me.
After this story, the reason why I was there seemed quite…lame in comparison. I responded, “I’ve always been interested in tarot, crystals, divination and magic and am new to town. I thought it would be good to connect with others with similar interests.”
No blindfolded, shared bathtub experiences for me.
I stayed for a bit longer, enough to hear the Katey Sagal lookalike next to me say in annoyance, “Men are stupid. If they weren’t, they would be here to meet women like us.”
Not willing to go into some weird male-bashing conversation, I chose this moment to say goodbye.
Although it was interesting tale-telling fodder at work the next week, I chose to not go to any more meetups with that group.
Contrary to what you might think based on my actions (moving once a year), I actually hate moving. It sucks.
If you’ve been following along with my posts, then you know that recently I made a decision to move back to Calgary and my move date is quickly approaching.
My coworkers, a.k.a friends, a.k.a island family, held a going away for me today and it was highly emotional for me…and so has this entire process of making the decision, accepting the job and then planning the logistics of the move.
For someone who has been educated in how to communicate about complex emotions, I find it ridiculous and frustrating that I am still often (99 per cent of the time) unable to share how I feel.
I forget that I’m not good at it until an off hand comment like, “oh she does have feelings guys,” said in light-hearted jest as I bawl my eyes out in front of a room full of people after receiving the sweetest card and gift, makes me realize that I need to do better.
I struggle to express deep emotions like the heartrending grief I feel at leaving Victoria and the people who made this place feel like home for me. I feel like I don’t have the right to it, because I’m choosing to go.
I don’t know if what I’m doing is right. I’m terrified I’m making the wrong decision. I was terrified when I left Calgary too. None of this is easy. I just get up and keep moving forward because the choice is made and that is how I operate. I can’t spend my life wondering what if. And so, I just do.
But, emotionally, it’s not easy.
I am beyond grateful to everyone who befriended me, who invited me in to their homes, their families, and made me feel like I immediately belonged. That is not something that just happens. These people made an effort for me.
I have no words that can fully express my gratitude. This is usually the point where I just can’t tell people how deeply I feel, and so, I say nothing.
But, in an attempt to suck less at communicating my feelings, I’ll try:
To everyone who took me in and became part of my life here in Victoria, thank you. I hold immeasurable love for you.
Vancouver Island Adventure Series: Ammonite Falls
Unsurprisingly, the weather is different all over the island. On the Ammonite Falls adventure day, it was sunny in Victoria, but clouds had gathered and rain started to clean my car as I drove towards Nanaimo. Coming from Calgary though, rain is preferable to snow and ice in the winter, so I happily made my way into the wilds of Vancouver Island. Also, I was intending to find waterfalls which are usually made better by mass amounts of rain, so I gleefully called it down.
Knowing my tendency to get lost, I spent the day before scouring resources online to make sure I knew where the trail was and how to navigate to the falls.
I found the right parking lot, so I was already one up on the Salt Spring Island adventure. I also got started on the right trail. Under the cover of the trees, the rain wasn’t coming down as hard, but I kept my hood up for most of the hike anyway. It’s about five kilometres, so about 45-60 minutes of walking that even with some droplets of rain could result in being soaked through. Also, even though I had read up on the trail, I wasn’t overly confident that I wouldn’t get lost and spend extra time backtracking and working my way out.
That lack of confidence in my navigation skills turned out to be right.
There was one part of the trail guide I had devoured that said to follow the trail down a steep slope. I looked at a slightly worn path off to the right of the more well-worn trail, and saw that it was a steep slope, and so off I went “walking” down it. I put walking in quotations because with all the rain, and it not actually being a path, the walking turned into slipping down a mudslide. It was SO MUCH FUN! Or, it was fun until I landed at the edge of a cliff. I could hear the falls to the right, but I couldn’t see them. I also couldn’t see how to get down, or where to go from there.
I figured that I had gone the wrong way, because…well, it’s me, and so I started climbing, sliding, scrambling back up the mud hill. Even though it was a pain to get up, it was still a lot of fun. I got to the top, covered in mud and soaked and just took my hood off, because at this point I was already a wet rat. I might as well revel in it. And so, I did.
Once at the top of the wrong steep slope, I kept following along the trail and managed to get myself to the correct steep slope, which had the added benefit of a rope to help guide hikers down.
And then I made it to the falls! Which were not impressive. Summer on the island is remarkably dry, and I hadn’t waited long enough in the rainy season to let the water accumulate before checking out the falls. They were fairly dry. The benefit of this dryness, while underwhelming to look at, meant that not many other hikers were in the area and I got to enjoy having the space to myself for a long while.
I hung out for a bit, enjoyed nature, and then made my way back to the car.
It’s a nice little jaunt that I’d recommend.
“Certain chemical compounds can be toxic, but people cannot be toxic. Your thoughts cause your feelings. Other people don’t cause your feelings. A toxic person is just someone you aren’t managing your mind around.” – Kara Loewentheil, podcaster for Unf*ck Your Brain.
Did you know the word toxic was the most used word in 2018? A question I wish I would have asked myself a few years ago is, how can I apply a word like that to a person? To suggest that a person…a human being…is poison to me? I am so ashamed. Admitting that makes me so uncomfortable.
I’m an avid listener of podcasts and after absorbing all the episodes of the current shows I subscribe to, I search out new ones to fill my brain while I run, walk or cook.
The most recent podcast I’ve been listening to, Unf*ck Your Brain by Kara Loewentheil, is blowing my mind. The episode that initially caught my attention was one about Imposter Syndrome (maybe I’ll write a blog post about why that interests me, maybe not – either way, that’s not what this post is about). I went through the list of topics and found two that really spoke to me, Drama and Toxic People, and Boundaries.
When I left Calgary in early 2017, I felt drained and emotionally exhausted. I attributed these feelings to what I thought were toxic people that surrounded me, and leaving Calgary was a bit of a way to deal with that. There were so many reasons for me to move to Victoria at the time, including the dream of wanting to be amongst the trees and mist for over 10 years, but the “toxic people” issue was like a final push to take the leap. I needed a breath of fresh air and I couldn’t figure out how else to get it.
I told people that I felt so much better here since I left the “toxic people” behind. Saying that, and believing it made me feel like shit, like the only power I had was to leave or run. I felt like I just couldn’t handle challenging people in my life, and as someone who has a tendency to think negative thoughts often, I also wondered if I was trying to leave myself behind.
You bet I was.
Side note: Whatever my reasons were for moving to the island, I’ve met so many amazing people out here. Every one of them will be so hard to leave. The reasons I’m moving back home have absolutely nothing to do with leaving people here. I’m not trying to avoid anything and that’s how I know my decision to go back is right. I’m not running.
It’s the thought that counts
This podcast and many conversations I’ve had over the past two years, have helped me shift my perspective in a way that I sorely needed. I needed to hear that my own thoughts were causing my problems. Fundamentally, I knew this, but sometimes we take the wrong path and get a bit lost in our heads. Since I get lost everywhere else, why not do so in my own mind? It’s okay to get lost. At some point in time though, you need a little kick in the pants, like someone telling you that it’s your own thoughts that are toxic. Do you know how empowering that is? To know that you can control many situations that have caused drama in your life by exploring how you are framing it?
Fuck. Yes. Own your thoughts, own your life.
One important note: There is such a thing as abusive people. There is a line between putting time and effort in to work through issues in relationships and taking abuse. You have every right to cut abusive people out of your life.
As a sign off, I’m going to reiterate a post I shared on Twitter here because I think it sums up what I’m trying to do in my life:
“There’s something that’s been bothering me for a few years, and it’s about letting go of people when they make life hard for you. This is a mistake. It’s important to recognize your ability to cope and to set boundaries when presented with difficult situations or people.
In a world of instant gratification, it’s easy to have shallow connections. But that’s not what life is about. You need hard times to appreciate good times. My challenge to you (and myself), is to nurture relationships and set healthy boundaries, rather than shut people out.”
Adventurer, writer, aspiring hunter and avid life liver
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