What does Grit and Company even mean? (I’m so glad you asked!)

I like words. A name is the sort of thing I could easily spend years in my head over, but I couldn’t justify not starting a blog based on not coming up with the perfect name. Besides, I don’t even know what this thing is yet. If I have to think too many steps ahead, or have to know now, it robs the joy of the adventure. The future is a place where anxiety and fear live so staying present and dealing with today and maybe next week are good places to be when possible. Creative endeavors are practices in being present with myself so having said all that, here is what Grit and Company means to me now.

On Grit

If you have ever stood beside me, you may have noticed I’m “short” or as the French say more politely, “petite”, as in I have always rounded up to the nearest half inch. I am 5 foot, 2 inches AND A HALF (last I checked which if anything has changed I’d be comfortable not knowing). As a kid I thought of my smallness as being a gift in games of hide-and-seek or my love of gymnastics, but as I grew older it felt like a deficit. Probably to do with this crazy culture of supermodel beauty in the form of long legs, but by the time I was a teenager I could see my frame wasn’t built for runways and held the knowing that my future husband would have to settle for less.

Logic could not predict that in Junior High I would learn that I loved playing basketball. I loved the running, the shooting but also standing my ground and owning the space I took up. What I lacked in height I made up for in feistiness, at times like an annoying mosquito to girls whose arms could reach much higher than mine. I loved catching them being sloppy, having wrongly assumed I was no threat. I loved grabbing the ball away from the other team, and if I ended up thrown on the ground arms hugging the ball as if my very life depended on it, it was likely I was keeping it.

I’m pretty sure it was grade 10, when I had Mr. Reimer (which may or may not be his real name) as a coach. He was student teaching at the time and I remember him telling us his dream was to get (pretend) angry at the ref and throw his clipboard on the ground. A couple years ago now, a teacher-friend of mine took a course with him and somehow they connected both knowing me, as he had become principle at the school my kids were attending. His observations about me way back then, were something like that I had “grit mixed with a helping of humour”. I didn’t mind this take on me one bit and it’s probably the nicest thing ever said about me behind my back! He had this memory of a game where some girl offended me (quite possibly by knocking me over) and for the remainder of the game he said I wasn’t even playing basketball anymore, but had moved on to working out justice for myself on that girl.

The word “grit” landed on me with a reverence for my young self amidst an otherwise amusing story. He had seen something in me then that I wouldn’t know for 20 years or so how much I would need that part of me to hold out. Not the part of holding a grudge in a basketball game but having fight in me to get back up and keep going. Of course he had no way of knowing what turns my life had taken since adolescent basketball but I felt reconnected to my young self and thankful for the reminder that I have been me for a long time.

When I think of the word “Grit”, I think of resilience and tenacity and I can’t pretend life hasn’t required these things from me. I am beyond thankful be to still standing and upright. But I’d be lying if I said it was me and my grit that gets me through because that’s only a piece of what is true in my story.

On Company

There are times I want to hide and disconnect. It usually happens suddenly and around suppertime when I notice the gas in my tank doesn’t match the distance left to the next pit stop. I know the feeling of needing a reprieve from exposed lightbulbs whose light offends me like a request from a migraine to take hold. I like one sound at a time for the most part. Also, one person talking to me at a time is best, and preferably not over television. While I’m on the topic of television I will say that it being on with no one watching is as wasteful to me leaving a tap running for the way it drains my personal energy resources. I don’t know why. Sometimes I wish I could turn my “noticer” down as my senses seem bent on bringing in as much information in as possible at all times. Sometimes less is a pathway to more peace, and I’m still learning how to do this well in ways that don’t involve me disappearing from the dinner table with my plate – which I think I have done only once in real life.

But still….actually it is almost always true that it is connection to other people that gives life to me. When I am feeling overwhelmed and frayed I don’t need to be alone, I just need to be pulled in – to a person – and this is where I most often find my own heartbeat again. My favourite relationships are the ones where laughter and tears both flow and sometimes together. This is rarely pretty, but it is always beautiful. I think because I find meaning in being real and acceptance in being true, I’m not very good at small talk. It’s like going to the beach but not being able to take your socks off. Talking about the weather is pretty boring to me, unless of course the weather reminds you of an argument you had with your mother, or makes you wistful for the optimism of childhood or something like that – then I could concede weather is an interesting topic. Also, I suppose farmers probably find weather interesting and I get that. Look, I’m not saying the weather is not important. It probably is, but forgive me if my mind wanders.

I do better connected to others, being known feels like love to me and being trusted is a gift I don’t receive lightly. I have learned to be a better version of myself because of the company I keep. Friends who inspire me with their lives and challenge me to do better, or reflect back to me places not yet healed, or point me to Faith…I consider this all beauty. Surviving pain while well surrounded is the best outcome we can hope for when life goes that way, and it does, and it will.

This journey would be so lonely without others to mark the path with to say, “look how far we’ve come! I bet we can get over that next bit after a rest and some coffee and cake!” (depending on who is eating sugar that week). I like to think we all carry different pieces of the map and it seems best we travel together. Especially I was never meant to travel alone as I am particularly terrible with navigation and the sort of person prone to getting lost. And if we make each other mad or sad because the bright lights made us do it, or the noise in the background made us fearful and anxious we apologize (if we are the sort of company we should be keeping)…and then we get back to the good stuff of company.

Thanks for stopping by!

And don’t worry, I’m sure I won’t be publishing posts this often normally. I’m just getting started. I’m not that ridiculous. For the most part.