Posted by: sulya | 18 January 2010

Fulcrum Moments

Every once in a while there is a fulcrum moment; that single event or single utterance under specific circumstances around which hangs all manner of change.  Collections of words such as, “The beginning of the end was… ” and “No time before or since had been so…” are born of fulcrum moments.

Very occasionally we know one for what it is as we live it.  A moment that feels momentous.  Something tingles or shivers.  Some heretofore unknown part of you vibrates with a sixth sense that “this moment matters.”  More often though, I think, we don’t have a clue that these moments are upon us and it is only the clarity of hindsight that lends them their fulcrum status.

The date of my son’s surgery last summer was a fulcrum moment of the latter variety and I’ve been thinking about it a lot.  Probably because it is now highly likely that he will have another surgery and anticipating living through any part of it again conjures the last time it was lived through.  How can it not?

It has been just over six months since that surgery and the landscape of my life is so very different than it was then.  The two friendships which most bolstered and sustained me that day are, from what I can tell and it is somewhat baffling to me at this point, either on extended breaks or just plain non-existent now and the friendship that I felt most let me down that day is one I find I am missing a lot.  It was that friend alone who got a written account of all the most important things I felt and experienced that day and I reread it the other day… I am worrying something in my mind about how some people bring out new things in you, one after another for better and for worse, and how other people just bring you closer to being exactly the person you most want to be just by being who they are… So that you simply need them to be there, in your life, in order to grow into being the person you most want to be…  I dunno’…  It’s selfish probably.

Anyway – not long after the day of the surgery – and I believe that day may have urged the relationship into a higher gear – my son started to talk to me about my ex’s girlfriend.  A lot.  It’s taken some getting used to – the idea of another grown woman playing a massive, regular role in my son’s life –  but mostly what I hear is very warm and supportive of my little man and that’s all that matters to me.  That and the fact that he always feels comfortable telling me things.  All the time.  Forever if I can make that work.

Also, it was not long after the surgery that I actually started making moves on going back to school.  Moves which are still playing out (which is why I am not writing about them more openly yet) but have been, on-the-whole, very favourable, very positive.

And thinking about school and life, losing friendships, building and maintaining others and accepting that I live a lot of my life alone lead me to last night when I volunteered at a Swing Dance so I could see what it was all about without having to go pay for a ticket to a dance and walk into a room full of strangers all by myself and by the end of the night about 10-15 people had taken the time to come and introduce themselves to me.  They invited me to go out for bubble tea afterward (smile) but I passed on that.  Genuinely nice-seeming people.  I’ll be going again next weekend I think, when my ankle has healed from a dumbf–k thing I did to myself at the gym and I can actually take a lesson and dance.

But I don’t think I would have taken the chance and left my house by myself on a Saturday night after being up since 7am and teaching four classes if it hadn’t been for all the events and happenings that began to unfold after the day of my son’s surgery in July; after that fulcrum moment had done its work.

And I know with all that I am that there are people in my life now who will be there should the kidlet again have surgery just as I would be there for them.  And I know that the goal is always to live in the now, to not look forward or dwell too much in the past but it’s hard to ignore a sudden glimpse of a fulcrum moment.

It’s like seeing through time, somehow.  Again.  I dunno’…

Okay.  I’m a tired octopus now so I think I will away to bed.

Goodnight Kisses from,

The Octopus in Residence


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