Tidbit to Threads No. 9

Threshold Moments and Becoming the Protagonist

Threshold Moment

“A place in life where we stand with one foot in the chapter we’ve known and one foot in the chapter, we’re about to enter. The space between an ending and a beginning. Sometimes we recognize these moments as they’re happening, but more often we only see them clearly when we look back and realize they changed the direction of our story. “ Susan Stirling

It was a weekend to remember, starting with an early morning wake-up to catch the ferry from Nanaimo to North Vancouver for the International Writers Conference, an event that would become a threshold moment for me.

You may remember that in Tuesday’s Tidbits to Threads No. 8, I shared how this time last year I had just signed with TSPA to publish my book, a book about my trauma bond to prophecy and how I began reclaiming my narrative.

But before I talk about that, let’s return to the ferry ride to North Vancouver.

A ferry ride that, on its first attempt, would not make it to the other side.

A medical emergency on board caused the ferry to stop in the middle of the water. We waited. Then the announcement came that we would be returning to dock. Of course, every one of us would want that if we were the person experiencing the emergency. Yet as we set off a second time, I could sense the tension between compassion and schedules. Conversations floated around us.

“I don’t remember the ferry moving this slowly.”

Was it a timing issue? Fuel conservation? The waters? Something else?

The question lingered, but eventually we made it to the other side.

Once in North Vancouver, we map quested our way through the fastest route minus the red zones, which took us down back roads where we were met by a chorus of car horns and traffic that seemed to have found every route marked “not red.” Apparently the entire North Shore had the same idea.

Eventually, we arrived at our hotel destination at the Shipyards on the waterfront.

Whew.

Then came the rain. Sheets of rain. Sideways rain. On again. Off again.

It was Market Friday, and I wanted to see what all the talk was about. Rain or no rain. Luckily, the rain mostly stayed in the clouds while we wandered along the pier.

Then it was time to get ready for the TSPA Protagonist Event, a gathering for published authors attending the conference. The dress code was fancy. Cocktail formal. Whatever makes you feel fabulous. There would be Vanity Fair Oscar-party-style photos. The evening was designed to bring together authors, publishers, and book people on a rooftop overlooking the waterfront.

And once again, the rain came down sideways.

But somehow that only added to the adventure.

Andrew was my plus one, and as I walked into the evening, I couldn’t help but feel like I was returning to the scene of my high school graduation.

A redo.

Definitely.

The idea began playing in my mind.

Yes, I had my hair and nails done especially for this event. I had shopped with a friend and carefully chosen an outfit. But in the end, I chose feeling over style. I wore something that felt fun, feminine, and flowy. I didn’t want to spend the entire evening holding my stomach in. I’d already done that in my high school graduation photos.

Speaking of my high school graduation, it was an event I almost didn’t attend. My plus one was my boyfriend, four years older than me, who, in hindsight, was still very much a boy with pimples on his face and a belief that his workout schedule was more important than taking a shower before my prom ceremony.

We rushed to Pincher Creek for graduation photos and then rushed back to the Crowsnest Pass just in time for me to pull on my cap and gown.

And no, he never did take that shower.

The memories I have of that threshold moment are captured in only a handful of photographs. Yet every time I look at them, the same feeling rises up. A wish that I could go back and speak to my younger self. My graduation self.

And here is what I would say to my high school graduate self.

Dear High School Susan,

There are so many thoughts, feelings, questions, and unprocessed experiences stirring inside you right now. I know it feels confusing at times, like you’re trying to find your footing on shifting ground. If you would trust me, I could help you find some solid ground to stand on.

And first, I’d probably say, “Kick him to the curb!”

Not because he is the whole problem, but because you are making decisions about your future through the lens of someone else’s dreams instead of your own.

I would tell you how much life is still in front of you. More than you can possibly imagine from where you stand today. I would talk to you about some of the beliefs and messages you’ve been taught to accept without question, especially the indoctrination that has shaped how you see yourself, your worth, and what is possible for your life.

I would tell you that you have choices. Real choices.

I would talk to you about belonging. Not the kind that comes from fitting into someone else’s expectations, but the kind that comes from being fully yourself. I would tell you that belonging begins when you stop abandoning yourself to gain acceptance from others.

I would encourage you to step out of the storyline you’ve been handed and into your own.

You were never meant to be a supporting character in someone else’s life. You are meant to be the author of your own.

And if there is one piece of advice I would press into your hands and hope you carried with you, it would be this: choose your education based on what interests and excites you. Follow your curiosity. Follow your gifts. Follow your dreams. Do not choose a college because your boyfriend is going there.

Your future is too important to build around someone else’s plans.

Start there.

Trust that your voice matters. Trust that your dreams matter. Trust that the life waiting for you is far bigger, richer, and more beautiful than the one you can currently see.

And most of all, trust yourself.

With love and wisdom earned along the way,

Susan from the Future

Here I was in North Vancouver, in an environment that summoned up memories of graduation. Only this time, my plus one keeps me on time. We laugh. We play. We love.

And this time, standing at another threshold moment, it felt right to me.

I’m going back to school.

Something I wish my younger self had experienced.

This week I’ll be interviewing for a counselling program and, if it goes well and we’re a good fit for each other, I’ll begin in September.

It’s never too late.

Healing is not linear. Life doesn’t always unfold the way we imagine it will. There are twists and turns, losses and discoveries, closed doors and unexpected openings. But there are also many days ahead. And I’ve decided that I’m going to continue standing in the center of my own story. Not as a character in someone else’s narrative. Not as an observer watching my life unfold from the sidelines. As the protagonist.

And perhaps that’s why the event was called The Protagonist. The main character in a story. The person whose choices shape the journey and whose fate we care about most.

Because somewhere between last year’s conference and this year’s, between publishing a book about reclaiming my narrative and deciding to return to school, I realized something.

I finally stepped into mine.

Protagonist

/pre’tagenest/

The main or leading character in a story, play or film. They are the central figure driving the narrative forward, whose choices propel the plot and whose fate the audience is most interested in

Cambridge dictionary.

Will you join me?

Thank you for reading Tidbit to Threads: where small moments, insights and deep threads become a return to self-trust, reflection and healing.

Small moments. Deep threads. A return to self-trust.

Author of Velcro Kisses: prophecy, trauma bonds and Reclaiming narrative.