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First blog post

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Well then…..

I’ve wanted to do this for quite some time now, have a platform where I could get out what I needed to get out.   A place where I could tell my story and the journey of everything I have been through and everything I have accomplished along the way.

As much as my journey has already been a long one, I still have a ways to go and more than ever, I need a place to work through and deal with the current issues at hand.    Originally, my diary as some may call it, started on an online forum.   Through pictures and small excerpts I documented my struggles. My successes and my failures.   My proud moments and my sad moments.  Unfortunately it morphed into something that I never intended it to be.   It started to affect me mentally and emotionally; a talk with my most trusted confidante recently exposed this and upon acknowledging it, I decided that I was ready and in the right frame of mind to give this a try.

This blog will not start from the absolute beginning and explain everything that happened up until now.   Not everything that plagued me before continues to affect me any longer.   But the big ones…. well yes, they still do.   On the days when I need to talk about them I will go into detail.   One of the things I try very hard to stop doing is looking backward and try to focus more on what’s in front of me and ahead of me.

So, today is Day 1.

Today, I am a single, 34 year old who has gone through more changes in the last 4 years than some people do in their lifetime.   I am the happiest, healthiest and most stable I have been in my entire life.   I have lived through nightmares and demons most people couldn’t handle.  I have fought every single day, to be where I am now.   And this…. is my journey of how I do it

Letter to My Mother

Dear Mom,

So many words, thoughts and feelings swirling inside of me, but I don’t know where to start.  I guess the simple and easy way would be to just be me, and get to the root of it all and expand from there.

When I was little, all through my teens and well into my 20s, I completely idolized you.  I told numerous people, that when I got old, if I could be half the woman my mother is, then I’ll be good in life.  Sometimes I wish I could go back to that feeling.   That the divide between us now, wasn’t there and that we could have the kind of relationship I dreamed of us having.   Unfortunately, things didn’t turn out that way.   As neither one of us, was our true selves during that entire time frame.   Having an abusive father, was something that I had to battle and fight through.   You had to fight through having an abusive husband.   I know that there are very likely things that I don’t know about the extent of what you went through.   I’m sorry for that.  I’m sorry that he hurt you.  I’m sorry that he hurt J and I too.   I know it’s not my apology to make, but I just wanted to tell you that.

During my therapy, when dealing with what he did to me, we didn’t just talk about him, we talked about my entire childhood.   What changed my entire perception of everything, was three questions that the therapist asked me.    1.Why didn’t your mom take you and your sister and leave, when things were bad.     2.What did your mother do, to help you with dealing with what was going on.         3.How did your mother react, when your father would treat you that way.

These questions primarily revolved around my childhood, not when I was older.   When I considered her questions and thought of answers to them, it ignited the already sizzling embers inside of me.  It was what started my looking at things from a different perspective, than what I had before.     The embers….. they were put there only a few months earlier.   I will admit, I was not the biggest fan at first of you dating R and how seemingly overnight, EVERYTHING changed.  We’ve already talked about this, but there is one part of it all, that I have not discussed with you.   At the time, I couldn’t pin point why you dating him bothered me, and I was struggling with why it did.   I know now why and have shared this with you.   During one of our talks on the phone about it, you said something and said it in a way/tone that you had never spoken to me in before.  You asked if I was jealous, because you had a boyfriend and I didn’t.   That hurt.   No, that fucking gutted me.  I understand that my issues with you and him in the beginning likely hurt you.   Maybe that was your way of returning the hurt.   I’m really not sure.   But still, that was one thing I never EVER thought that I would hear come out of your mouth.   I think I already knew then, that things were different, or at least were going to be; and they only got worse from there.

When I had my breakdown, it was quite simply just that.  I broke.   You and J had found your own ways to deal with what had happened.   I hadn’t and it affected me in ways that it didn’t affect either of you.   I don’t begrudge either of you that.   We all had to heal.  We all had to find ways to move past and move on.   It just turned out that my moving on took and continues to take a lot more work.   Before you moved west, the three of us, me, you and J, had a very in depth conversation on your deck.   Once again, three things happened in that conversation, that bothered me at that time and continue to bother me to this day.   The first, was when I did ask you why you never took J and I and left.   Your answer was, “that is my single biggest regret”.   An answer that I appreciate in theory, but rationally, didn’t actually answer my question.  The second, was when I fully opened myself up to the two of you, for what was likely the first time ever, and was brutally honest.  I told you that I had dark places inside of me.   I had voices in my head, his voice, his words, that continued to haunt me on a daily basis.   Your response to this, was to look me dead in the eye and say “I don’t understand and I can’t relate to that, I can’t help you”.   Gutted for the second time.   I didn’t need you to understand.  I didn’t need you to relate to it.   I needed you to just be there.  To listen when I needed someone to listen, to just let the shit out.  The third, was when I admitted that the reason I stayed home for so long, until I was 24, was to protect you.  To keep the bulk of his anger off you and put it on me.  You frowned and scoffed at the notion of it.  Driving home after that, I was enraged.   I was so unbelievably mad.   I actually had to pull over and calm down.   I sat in the Sobeys parking lot on Ellerslie Road and sobbed.

Compounding all of this, was your constant criticism and judgment of my looks.   I should style my hair different, I should wear wore makeup, my gut is sticking out too far, I have a double chin, I weigh more than you do.  And my personal favourite, if you look good on the outside you automatically feel good on the inside.   Those things were able to work for you.  That was how you coped, how you handled it and how you stayed sane.   I’m beyond glad that it worked for you.  Honestly and sincerely; and I in no way judge that it did work for you.   However, people are different.  People handle things differently and see things in  different ways.   That does not make one right and the other wrong.   It just makes them different.   I did not think or feel in that way.  I’m only just now, starting to appreciate getting girly and having cute hair and wearing make up and looking good on the outside.   Not because of the way other people see me.  Not because it automatically makes me feel good on the inside.   But because I fixed my insides first.   I knew that about myself.  I knew that that’s how I needed to go about it and told you that numerous times.  But you always responded with the same thing…..

Now, here I am.   On the other side of it all.  Lighter mentally, emotionally and physically.   I still have shit to work through and I continue to work on it.  It’s been 4 years and while I’m not 100% healed, I’m 75% there.  You see me for the first time in 15 months.  Better.  Happier.  Having lost 100 pounds of weight.  And you say nothing.  NOTHING.  You get out of the car, hug me and say it’s good to see you.   The first thing out of R’s mouth was, you look great, give me a hug.   And THAT meant the world to me.   But the one person, I needed to hear say it.  Wanted to hear say it, the most.   Didn’t say one fucking word about it.   But, did have the sense to ask me how much I weighed now.

I won’t deny that for basic things and assistance, you have been there.   And I do appreciate that.  And I am grateful for the help.   In all the things where I needed you the most.   Where your daughter needed her mother, unfortunately, you have not been there and it’s cut me incredibly deep.   It hurts.  It’s agonizing.   The week leading up to your arrival, I was so badly stressed and filled with anxiety over it, it made me physically ill.   I don’t know how to act, what to say, or how to be in your presence.  I feel awkward and out of place.   Equally, I know that I have hurt you and that the strain of our relationship affects you too.    I don’t know where to go from here.   I only know that I can’t keep being angry anymore.  It takes too much out of me.

As your daughter, I love you.   As a human being….. I cannot allow you to hurt me any longer.   Where we go from here and where we end up, I really don’t know.  Only time and a lot of healing will tell.   Right now, that is what I need, time.   The time to find a way to actually be your daughter again.   If that day comes, I will greet you again, with arms wide open.

 

 

Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby

Oh lawd, I’ve been wanting to post about this!!!!!   Strap in boys and girls, or strap on if you prefer.   This won’t be for the weak loined.

Have you ever heard of the 35 year itch? If you have you’re likely a woman, nodding your head profusely.  If you haven’t, allow me to educate you.   Men reach their sexual peak at age 18; and people wonder why there are so many E.D. issues.   A woman reaches her sexual peak at age 35; and people wonder why cougars be so crazy.   Now, I am currently about 2 months shy of my 35th birthday.  However, the “itch”, for me, started a little over a year ago.

I was having some problems with being low on iron.   Pure iron supplements would be too much for my battered stomach to handle, so my doctor recommended taking pre-natal vitamins, due to their high iron content.  Bit weird, but sure, I’ll give it a try.   I’m not certain if there is something in the vitamins that caused what happened to happen, or if it was all just a mental thing, but OH-MY-GOD!!!!!!   Let me paint a picture for you….  I’m sitting at my desk at work.   Jittery as fuck, leg tapping, head going side to side, knuckle cracking, insides throbbing, if I don’t get about 5 orgasms in a row I’m going to DIE!!!!  It was so bad, people at work were asking if I was having a panic attack.   Nope, just wanna fuck anything with 2 legs blind, but thanks for asking!!! Every single man I saw, made it worse.  Didn’t matter what they looked like, whether they were married, single, gay or straight.   I had to bite my lip to keep from going Tarzan on their asses.

It got to the point where I stopped taking the prenatals because I was going to lose my mind….or break my hand.   Yes, that’s right, going through this time and being single, is pure unadulterated hell.   Stopping the vitamins did assist with being able to function on a day to day basis.  But it still didn’t completely satisfy the itch.  I know what you may be thinking, “Girl.  Get your ass out there and get yourself laid.  Repeatedly!!”  Well, here’s the thing….my hoe punch card was already filled up in my early 20s.  Unfortunately, I do also now have morals and don’t want to be “that girl”.

So to my conundrum and point of this post.   What do you do, when you’re in the itch phase, single and your hoe days are behind you?  Buy stock in Duracell and Energizer?   Take out an ad:  “Wanted, man to satisfy 35 year itch on a permanent basis.  Please provide references.”  Sigh…. the struggle is real.

In the mean time, my journey continues.

Laugh, Dammit!!

I have a very unique laugh.   Some people find it annoying, others think it’s hilarious and some actually love it and enjoy it.

My general laugh sounds like an old man wheezing.  Get going a little bit more and it sounds like a soft, high pitched machine gun.   All out gut-busting laughter is a full body experience.   Head thrown back, scrunch faced, from the belly guffaw.  Throw in a well placed snort and there you have it.

Laughter is one of the most powerful things that a person has at their disposal.   Laugh in the face of death.   Laugh in the face of fear.  Laugh, laugh, laugh and the whole world laughs with you.  Laugh at your own expense.  Laugh, long and loud and clear.  Laughter is healing.  Have I made my point…

Too often we forget to just, laugh.   To see the humour in awkward or stressful situations.   A perfect example of this, is a story about my sister.   She woke up late for work one day and in a mad panic scrambled around getting ready.   Dropping things, snagging her sweater and all sorts of conundrums followed in the wake.  She finally gets to the point where she’s ready to leave, puts on her boots and coat and out the door.   While walking to her car, she felt a little off, but dismissed it when as soon as she got in her car it disappeared.   She arrives at work after battling hellacious traffic and not being able to stop for her morning coffee pick me up.   The horror!!!!  Once again as she walks to her office building she feels off.   She gets to her desk, sits and looks down.   She’s wearing one black boot with a 4 inch heel and one beige boot with a 3 inch heel.  She calls me at work in a fit of hilarity and has to explain about 5 times the story of what happened, as I could barely understand her from how hard she was laughing.  Which in turn spawned my guffaw laughter.

She could have easily let all those things ruin her day, as most would do.   Instead, she chose to see it all in a positive way, which made several other’s day.  She laughed at it.  Because let’s face it, that’s funny shit!  As a result, her stressful day, turned into an epic story that is still told with utter amusement to this day.   So the next time you have a day where one thing after another, after another just keeps piling up.   Rather than being annoyed, pissed off or frustrated, just laugh dammit!!

The Itty Bitty Shitty Committee (Part 2)

As one can probably guess, sharing this sort of information, on a relatively open platform, is not easy.    Deliberately exposing your darkest recesses and long decayed skeletons is mentally and emotionally exhausting.    Hence why this post is broken into segments.   But, this IS the reason why I started this blog…. so, on with the story.

Up until last year, I never finished or completed any goal I set out for myself.  I went back to school to earn my CPA, didn’t finish.   I had the time, means and opportunity to travel and see the world, didn’t do it.   I started more fitness programs, exercise regimens and other things of the sort than I count; never stuck to any of them. I’ve had 3 personal trainers, stopped going when it got too hard.  I’ve had the chance to experience and learn new things, meet new people, have adventures and be spontaneous.  Couldn’t leave my house.   My itty bitty shitty committee controlled my life, for close to half of it.   It’s important to note, that I do fully accept and take responsibility for the fact that I didn’t do these things.  While the voices in my head were ingrained there by others, I chose to let them rule me.  I chose to let them be the guidance system on the highway of my life.

When you are told repeatedly, how “awful of a human you are”, eventually you start to believe it.   I had no self esteem, I had no confidence.  My weight did fluctuate.  I barely wore any makeup.   I even more rarely ever did my hair.   I didn’t care.   What I looked like mirrored exactly who I believed who I was.   All the while, those little voices kept singing soprano in my head.    The saying, we are our own worst enemy….. that shit right there, is the ugly truth.  (Shoutout to Gerard Butler)  Yes, I make awkward jokes at inappropriate times, because it’s what I was taught to do.   But that’s for another post and another time.

So now to the real point of it all.   How do you turn it off?  How do you make them stop? How do you tune them out?  I haven’t gone to university for 8 years and my profession isn’t one with an “ist” on the end, so I’m likely not qualified to provide a response on an all encompassing basis.   What did I do?   I got mad.   Not just mad, Banchee screaming at the top of their lungs mad.   I talk back to them.   I tell them to get fucked.   I tell them they aren’t going to control me and that I choose how to live my life.   For whatever reason, it works.   Kit, calls it my badass work bitch mode.  She LOVES that side of me.   I’ve come to appreciate her too.   While it keeps them relatively at bay, it doesn’t completely silence them.   I have self esteem and confidence now.   But I still harshly doubt, judge and criticize myself at times.   What I’ve learned is that those voices are always going to be there.   They will never completely go away.   It’s like ying and yang.   There has to be a little bit of dark inside all of us.   The trick is to work on balancing the bad with good and apparently to get really pissed off at them.

Will I ever be perfect, HELL NO!  Will I ever see myself as perfect, likely not.   One day though, I know that I will be able to look at myself and see confidence, love and self worth radiating out of me.   For now, I’ll take the amount that I’ve gained, be damn proud that I got it back and completely rock that shit!  While my journey continues….

 

The Itty Bitty Shitty Committee

You may have heard of this before, you may not have.   I first discovered it in the book, “Goddess to the Core”, by Sierra Bender; if you’re a woman needing something to inspire and empower you like no other, read this book.     In a nut shell, The Itty Bitty Shitty Committee are those little voices in your head.  But not the good ones….. oh, no these are the ones that make you second guess, doubt and fear.  It can take years to silence them.  Some of them are never able to be silenced.  Our ability to accept or reject what they say, defines the type of person we are.     I have these voices.   Dealing with them has been the biggest ongoing struggle for me throughout my journey.   They continue to plague me.   Sometimes I can ignore them, or disregard them.  Other times, they’re too loud for me to ignore.

By reading my previous posts, you may have come to a conclusion or realization that I didn’t have the greatest of experiences growing up.   To ensure no misconception, I always had a roof over my head, clothes on my back and food in my belly.  We went on family vacations.  My schooling was paid for and supplies were purchased.   There were gifts under the tree every Christmas.  We had birthday parties.  We had toys and games. You may read this and think wow, that’s sounds pretty awesome!  On the basic level, it was.   I had everything I needed provided for me.   But that’s the thing isn’t it…. A river can look calm on the surface, but be frantic and a whirlwind underneath where the eye can’t see.   Memories of my childhood are spotty at best.   Somethings I remember clearly, but there are also years I can’t remember.   My clearest of memories are from when I was about 10 and onward.

(Inner voice talking: stop stalling and write already)  My father was….. a troubled man.   He, himself did not have a good childhood.  Him and his brother left home at 13.  He was badly injured in a freak accident, where he was struck in the head and shoulder with a beam.  He wasn’t the same after that, so I’ve been told.   His injuries left him with debilitating migraine headaches and other chronic pain.  He was given medication to handle and control the pain.   Sonetimes the pain he went through was so bad, he was unable to work and barely able to function.  The majority of his days, when like this, were spent in a medically induced haze, laying in bed in the dark.  But, a person can’t spend all their time laying around….  He became very angry.   Angry in general.   At the world, at his circumstance, at the fact that doctors couldn’t help him.   Unfortunately it’s human nature that when we get angry or frustrated or stressed we can take it out on those closest to us.  That’s exactly what he did.  The three of us; my mother, my sister and myself, were who he took it out on.   We were, stupid, fat, ugly, worthless, fucking bitches.  We were pigs.    Nothing we did was right or good enough.   If you stood up to him, you felt his full wrath.

I don’t need to go into greater detail.  I’ve illustrated what I needed to.   Those words, were my life.   Every day, I heard them or some form of them, for more than 15 years.   A feeding frenzy, for an Itty Bitty Shitty Committee…..

Part 2 to follow.

My Words

In addition to this blog, I also write poetry.  For a change of pace, I thought I would post some of the things that I have written.  I don’t plagiarize, so please be respectful and follow suit.  ☺️

 

She stands • Skin is her armour, courage is her shield, bravery is her strength • She fights • Like a lioness in the night, taking down her enemy swiftly, silently, smoothly • She loves • Put your trust in her and she will save your soul and walk beside you • She falls • She always will rise again. It’s in her blood, her breathe, her eyes • She stands •

 

When I’m with you, no having is too hard to hold.   Inside out you warm me, shelter me from the bitter cold.  Hands rough as sand, arms of the hardest stone.  Touch me like a gentle feather, send me shivers, make me moan.   Eyes so dark they shine. A smile that lights every dim corner.  Dance me over to the other side, save me from my mind.   I have waited for you, waited far too long.   Open my eyes, it’s too late, you’re already gone.

The Jerry Maguire Condition

It’s not about “Show Me the Money”, the human head weighing eight pounds, the Kwan or football.  No, it’s about something much more complex than that.  “You, complete me”.   Three little words that ultimately have more meaning behind them than the other three little words.   To fill that missing piece of someone… to make them whole, greater, better, stronger than they ever believed they could be.   Whether admitted out loud or not, I will be so bold as to say that the majority of people strive to find that.   Whether gay, straight, bi-sexual, trans-sexual or what ever your personal flair may be; people as a whole, somewhere inside them want that.   Aside from money, finding ones love/soulmate/partner in life and crime, is one of the most sought after things in today’s world.

But…… you had to know there was a but coming… How can you, or should you find or even attempt looking for the person who completes you, when you don’t even know who you are?  How can you be even sure a piece is missing, when they’re all scattered on the floor; an enormous jig saw puzzle that has to be put back together first, in order to see if one is missing.  Too quickly people jump to the conclusion that they have found the one, only to find out that not only are they not the one, they have their own pieces missing.  On the opposite side of the spectrum, there are those who don’t jump at all.   Who would rather go through life being with random pieces that they know don’t fit, out of fear that they’ll either A. Never find the right piece or B. Are afraid of being hurt by the one who is the missing piece.   That being said, I’ve happened to be one of those that fall in the middle of the spectrum.

Like most girls, when I was young, I envisioned what my life would be like.   I pictured that by the time I was 30, I would be married with at least 2 kids.   I would have the “house on the treed road, with a white picket fence and a dog”.  Instead, when I was 30, I was mentally and emotionally at absolute rock bottom.  Single.  No kids.  No house. No fence.  No dog.  At that time, it led me to think, thank freaking god I didn’t have all that while this was going on.  I couldn’t imagine what I would have done if I had a husband and children to consider, while I was literally and figuratively falling apart.  Up until that moment, I was desperate to be in a relationship or to find someone.   I was under the mis-impression that finding someone that loved me would help me and make all of the bad go away.   It’s ok, you can laugh at that, I do now.   It was then that I made the decision to stop looking and focus on me.  I put all of my time, self and energy into me; don’t get me wrong, I needed to and I’m glad I did.   In doing so, I had zero desire to even want to put any time or effort into a relationship.  This was my time.   4 years later……

Here I am, now 34, now in the best space I have ever been in my entire life.  Finally, back at the point where I know I am ready to get back into the relationship/dating pool again and continue the ensuing search for the one.   But there’s just one small problem.   There are no missing pieces.   Or at least I don’t yet see any pieces missing.  I don’t feel that I need someone to complete me at this point in time, but I do miss companionship.   I miss having someone just, there; a physical body to take up space.  I know that may sound harsh, and hope that my point is properly conveyed on the matter.  I have tried dating, to be expected they’ve all ended up being disasters with flair, as I also don’t just want to be someone’s bed bouncing buddy.  Although, I will not lie, I MISS SEX THE MOST DAMMIT!!!!!!   Hoooooo, that felt good to get out there.   So now I’m in this position, where I find myself arbitrarily, as that person on the opposite end of the spectrum.   Only not due to fear….. but more-so, lack of needing it.   Am I alone in this?   Am I possibly the only person in the world who doesn’t need that one person to complete me?   Likely not, but at times it feels that way.

My best friend (whom I have mentioned before and will likely mention again, so therefore I have decided to dub as Kit) says that one day, out of the blue, I’ll meet someone and will just know or understand that they are the missing piece, or the accessory piece to my puzzle.  Well, I guess I will wait and see if that day will come or not, but if it does, I’ll owe her $50.     And the journey continues.