about the first time you remember being thrilled.
time was 1978, when I rushed into the cavernous government printing
shop to watch a six month project culminate in 10,000 copies
of a red/white book come rolling off the press.
|What’s the slightest thing
to have thrilled you?
|What’s the most frightening
yet thrilling thing you’ve done?
across Canada when I was 17.
why you’re not completely sensible.
|To me to
be sensible means to be dull and boring. I desire neither.
the most uninhibited thing you’ve ever done?
sex with my first husband in the same bed with his brother and
his wife who were doing the same thing.
you considered doing for pleasure but were too concerned about
out my newly found sexuality, but too afraid because of AIDS
and other diseases.
the event in one sentence (there’s time to expand later)
|In a new
job with a promotion in June 2003, was when I rediscovered myself
buried as I had been for 22 years.
a bit about yourself around this time.
depressed. I looked frumpy, fat and forlorn. I cared about no
one, not even myself.
sequence of events leading up to your thrill. Try to remember
how you felt at each stage. The smallest detail could be important
(this is your chance to expand).
just an incredible rush of emotions that at times overwhelmed
me, left me day dreaming and at times disoriented and confused
about who I was or what I wanted to do with the rest of my
It began in late May. How many 70 year olds are offered a
new job that is part of history in the making, and with a
promotion? Fellow workers half my age thought me insane to
attempt change “at my age”.
The “thrill” was not one, but a series of emotional
rushes. It began on Friday, the 13th when I walked away from
an oppressing environment of 18 years. Saturday the 14th,
I walked aimlessly through my house unable to put any of my
thoughts together. Sunday the 15th I awoke to experience every
possible emotion that lay buried all those years.
your thoughts and feelings at the precise moment of thrill?
Sunday was when I looked in the mirror and saw myself for the
first time. I was not a pretty sight. I had two choices. I could
dig another hole, or I could try and reclaim those lost 22 years.
I think on Sunday the realization of what I had not done over
the past 22 years just hit me. It was quite a shock to my system
and my very being.
you do afterwards?
help but did not know who to ask and that is when I found
it in myself. For the next month I read all I could about
the new job. The subject matter was emotionally upsetting
and at times unnerving. I began fantasizing about all the
men I saw on the street, in the shops or on the buses. At
first, I felt obsessed but over time discovered this was probably
a normal reaction.
I joined a fitness club and began working out three times
a week. In four months I lost 25 pounds and went down two
dress sizes. I bought new clothes, had my hair styled and
nails done. I wanted to be like everyone else, but I did not
want to lose my identity. I began trying to work out how to
find men to date. I had not dated in 46 years and trusted
my emotions less than a potential date’s.
I encountered some strange males - married, cross-dressers
and the 20 to 40 year-olds who just adored older women. I
dated a couple of older men and found them dull. Those for
whom I felt some attraction had been badly wounded by women
in the past and were still terribly gun shy. Those I saw once.
Widowers seemed always to have a dog given to them by a son
after a wife’s death. One said of his late wife “It
took her two years to die.” I thought it to be a remark
of either someone who died emotionally when his wife died
or who had no empathy towards women. We went on three dates
and I never saw him again.
enormous. I would become fatter, slip into my old ways of thinking
and acting and reacting negatively as I had over the years.
Or, I would lose weight, buy new clothes and then discover I
still did not like myself. Or, I would re-make myself only to
discover that everyone would think me too old and not capable
you imagine other people thought of you during and after the
that some would understand, that some would think my attempts
laughable, whereas others might be a bit jealous of me for even
trying to change.
do you think about the event, and why?
about it daily and sometimes wake up in the middle of the
night or with a start in the morning because I was dreaming
of someone making love to me only to find a cat cuddled up.
I guess in many respects I think about all the lost opportunities
and wonder if any will ever come my way again or if I can
ever figure out how to reach out. I think about it also because
a friend in the UK encouraged me to write about my life and
all the events that shaped me to date .
The writing has made me understand that it was not the world
or men that angered me, but I was angry at myself. Telling
about my life has made me understand that some of the circumstances
would have happened in any event because I had never had any
control over my life, others always had.
probably don’t understand how such a thing can thrill
you; explain it to them.
is in dressing and behaving in a manner that suits my personality
and not my age. This might frighten you because you have been
conditioned to act and react in a certain manner depending on
your age and place in the world. Society dictates to you what
you will wear, what you will eat, how you will dress, what mannerisms
are acceptable and those that are not. Society dictates the
rules and you follow them slavishly and sometimes you go to
your death angry at having followed society’s rules, without
ever being rewarded.
changes could have made the experience better, and why?
someone to talk to about how I felt because I would have felt
2. Being able to connect with people who have experienced
the same types of changes because many self doubts would have
fallen by the wayside, and
3. Living in a more modern home because my little bungalow
still needs a lot of work and I would be ashamed to bring
anything you want to add?
|I am not
sure if this is even what you want. It was very difficult for
me to write.