Living In My Own Skin

My Dad and Me - People say he looks like "that guy from ABBA"

There’s something about facing death that makes a girl realize she really has to let loose and live her dreams. And it doesn’t matter if the dream sounds crazy to other folks. It’s not about them anyhow. This dream is all hers. What good would it do to try and live someone else’s dream? There’s no fun OR satisfaction in that.

So, after a year filled with accidents and illness and near death and other people around me I love dying …..

I decided it was time. Time to just go for it. Forget the naysayers. Even if most of them are in my own head. And the ones that aren’t in my head don’t matter anyhow. When this life – my life – is over, I don’t want to stand at the edge of it and wonder what the hell I was thinking and why I didn’t go after this or that or why I allowed someone else to tell me what to do or how to do it. Or why I was too afraid to live in my own skin.

And one fantastic, all-consuming dream I’ve had was to go to Sweden. Why? Because I want to – I mean, why do I like red or green or orange? Why do I like old Rock or Jazz or Metal but not Country Western? What’s the logic behind all that?

To be fair, part of it has to do with the fact I’d been compared to my Grandpa Ericsson and how I acted like him and how he came from Sweden. I’d heard he was about the nicest man one could meet and this was coming from people in the family that didn’t like anybody. I also was told that once his wife died, he was a real ladies man – all the women were after him. I know he wouldn’t drive any car but a Saab. But that’s all I knew. And hearing those things, my fascination with Sweden grew.

But the rest – the fact I crave any little bit of information I can get about Sweden, have dreamed of learning Swedish or have been known to randomly google Sweden or Swedish things just because I wanted to “know” and see people who may look like me or find out what they were like versus Ireland where I happen to know my mom’s folks come from – this is inexplicable. And when you live in America, learning Swedish is as practical as learning how to fire walk.

But, learning Swedish and going to Sweden have been this long held dream I once thought a bit far-fetched. Yet by God, how I wanted to do it!

And so now, in a year and season of my life when I focus on getting back to what Tawnya wants, I’ve decided to go for it.

For nearly two weeks now, each night I sit in front of my computer, wearing headphones and a mic and practice Swedish.

Kvinnan dricker vatten. Flickan springer. Jag kör bil. Han kör inte bil. Hej! Pojken, Barn, Koppa, Hund, Jar lagar mat, God Morgon!

And by giving myself to this dream, I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt.

And I’m seeing the most amazing miracles occur as a result. It’s been an amazing month – an amazing few weeks – and, I can honestly say, an amazing year.

I’m looking forward to the rest of it!