Today’s guest post was written by Emily Wood, a blogger from Winnipeg, Manitoba. I’ve been trying to think of the right way to describe her, and about the best I can do is to say that she’s REAL. Most blogs I read bore me after about three minutes, but I can get lost in Emily’s for an hour. She’s a good writer with an honest voice and a kind heart. I’m honored to give her the platform today.
If you want to hear more from Emily, you can visit her site at http://emily-jane.net.
I first moved to Canada when I was fifteen years old, leaving behind England, the country that had raised me, enveloped me in rich culture, history, and left an insatiable appetite for all things British. My childhood was filled with visits to old cathedrals, quality time with my grandparents, and spending as much time as I possibly could outside. When I wasn’t playing football with other kids on the street, we were choreographing dances and orchestrating fundraiser talent shows for the neighbours. I remember feeling an incredible sense of pride when letters from the British Red Cross and the World Wildlife Fund arrived, thanking us for our donation which, looking back, could only have been miniscule – but we didn’t care. We were helping, and it made us feel like pretty decent kids.
Soon after I landed in Canada, I turned into a little bit of a recluse. Overwhelmed by culture shock, I retreated into a shell, worried about being judged, about being different – all the while observing just how different things were here. I’d come from a school where students were scolded for having their shirts untucked, or for wearing more than one pair of earrings. Here, kids were in designer hoodies and jeans, with highlights in their hair and fake tans, their faces masked with heaps of lip gloss and eyeliner. At the time, I remember feeling so different, so out of the social loop. Everyone was so focused on being popular and liked, and I didn’t know what to do. Every teenager wants to fit in – but I’d come from leading groups of kids where we’d spend our spare time singing, fundraising, and trying to make a difference in the world – and here I was, surrounded by people spending their parents’ money on fancy clothes and trying to look cool. Our priorities clashed, and I was overcome with a longing to fit in, but to also stay true to my beliefs. I kept quiet and observed.
I got my first job at sixteen, and like many teenagers, worked my way through a series of corporate, hierarchical retail jobs where emphasis was placed on money, and success was determined by the number of additional things you could sell to people who didn’t want or need them. It made me uncomfortable, but it paid the rent for years before I landed my first office job. It was in a little print shop, and I was the graphic designer. I was told I was to charge customers “by the minute”. Sweet old ladies would come in asking for Christmas letters to be typed, and I’d do it with a smile – but was punished if I made their couple of word changes without charging them extra. I stayed there for two years before landing my current job – at my first non-profit organization.
Where does your success lie?
I encourage you to take a moment today to really count your blessings, because despite the curveballs life throws our way, we have so much in our lives for which to be thankful. Take a moment not to think about what you’re going to have for supper tomorrow, or where you’re going to go out on Friday night – but about what you can do to make someone else’s day that little bit better, no matter how small. You never know how much of a difference it could make.
