Tag Archives: broken heart

Loved You May and Hello June


May was the most interesting month I’ve had for what seems like forever!

A new medication for sleeping has done wonders for me.  Instead of needing and getting 12 to 14 hours of sleep almost every day, I now get up after only 7 hours and feel pretty perky.  All my other meds are the same and seem to be working really well for the most part.  I think the weather helps too.  I’m not isolating 1380021_10155657943450221_190890452345083084_nmyself so much as I was a few short weeks ago.  I love my yard; the sun sucks all the dreary winter from my body and brings the summer into my soul.

We found a cute baby kitty that we were going to adopt and kept him in the house with us for a few days until we could get him to the Humane Society to have him checked out and neutered.  He got out just before one of the most weirdest storms I’ve ever been through happened.  Snow with lightning and high damaging winds.  Then he never came back.  I still grieve for him.  He was so lovable and sweet.

The end of May marked the first anniversary of the death of my dad.  I still have the image of him taking his last breath as my sister and I clutched his hands, crying, and telling him to go.  It was okay to go.  I should have left right away so I wouldn’t have had to see his empty, thin body lying there.  I can’t forget it.  I still remember my mom as she looked after her death too.  I dream of them so much.    His birthday was 2 days after his death as well.  It was hard this year as I’m sure it will be every year.  It’s funny when I dream of my dad because, in my dreams, apparently his death was all a big mistake and he isn’t really dead and is still alive.

What makes it better, though, is in between the anniversary of my dad’s death 11107728_10155729474615221_1500065792585678561_nand his birthday my youngest granddaughter had her first birthday.  I remember the joy I felt when she was born in spite of the sad, dark time of a year ago.  This year was no different, really.  She is cute as can be and I love both of my grandgirls to bits.  Such bright and wonderful children who give me so much joy.

My daughter turned 18 in March and is almost 30.  Yeah. But she’s really doing great.  Doing fantastic in school, winning 2 awards and made the honour roll!  So proud of that girl.

I also met a man.  I decided to give up on the “bad boys” after reading several articles written by nice men who never seem to get a chance.  I also read some blog posts and comments from them where women have been stuck with the bad boys just like I was. And they just didn’t get it either. So…I’m giving one a chance.  It’s only been a few weeks but holy moly…wow.  He treats me like a queen, takes me for dinners, lunches and breakfasts.  He lent me his truck for 4 days (which my kids thought was really weird).

I have had to stop him from spending so much money on me.  If he had his way he would lavish me with gifts.  He wants to find me a car. He wants to buy me clothes. I said no. I keep saying no. He really giftswants me to be happy and expects a commitment in the future.  THAT I’ve  never heard before.  It’s been all disconcerting as I have not met anyone like him.  He loves how I look.  He’s beyond eager to meet my kids.  He wants to be with me all the time and I had to tell him I needed space to breathe and learn about myself in this new role.  It was a battle at first, only because of his own insecurities I think.  I notice he really doesn’t have that many of those so far.  He lives out-of-town on a beautiful 4 acre lot with an apple orchard and all the toys near a beautiful lake.  I’ve stayed there a few times and love the privacy, the birds and the sun on beautiful days.

I had a surprise graduation party for my son, his wife and my daughter on Sunday because they are all graduating.  My son got his GED back in the fall, my 11224583_10155851597945221_3784232355226808323_ndaughter-in-law went to night school to finish her high school and, of course, my daughter graduates high school in June.  My fella paid for all the food and drove me around everywhere to find supplies and presents.  He wanted to come to the party to do the cooking but I held him off as we had only been together for such a short time.  I just felt it was too soon.

He smiles all the time. And that’s important to me. We like and love so many of the same things and every time we discover something new it’s such a surprise.  He wants to make sure I’m not stuck inside and plans outings all the time.  He missed me yesterday and drove the hour drive and showed up at 4 in the afternoon with Chinese food for supper.

To think I was fighting this.  Neither of us could really understand my imagesCA48VGCDreasoning.  I do though, of course.  All those failed relationships, all the heartache and all the work invested and lessons learned.  He doesn’t want me to lump him into the same category as those guys.  He’s assured me he’s different.  I’m starting to believe it. His health isn’t very good at this time but we both hope for improvements.

I have high hopes for this wonderful man.  If it doesn’t work out at least I know there are nice men out there.

So bring on June.  Graduations, beaches, long drives and love.  Bring it on.

Roller Coaster


Finally, I feel I have the ability to write again, both electronically and emotionally.  Well, I still don’t know about the emotional part.  Its been a very emotion-filled few weeks, with many ups and even more downs.  My laptop may overheat but I will write with breaks so it can cool down.

During these times I came to learn valuable lessons about myself:  I’m still strong, there is always something new on the horizon, and I have my pride intact.  There were lots more lessons learned but those are the big ones.

I was always waiting for something.  Exterminators because we had bedbugs.  It took the landlord 2 months to get them here so poor Carly and I would go to bed each night so the critters could feast upon our milky flesh.  All the info we read from the government and exterminator’s websites recommended you don’t sleep on the couch or they will find you.  Where. Ever. You. Go.  So I couldn’t sleep.  I would stay awake until the sun came up, killing any that crawled on me and put them in a jar of bleach and laugh manically as they dissolved before my eyes (I bet you didn’t know how sadistic I can be).  During the day I would pick though my daughter’s bed, trying to decrease her discomfort.  She would still have new bites every few days.

During this 2 month time we were banned from seeing my grandchildren as my son has an almost supersized fear of the bugs and he did not want to risk any hugstransfer from us.  Ditto for the boyfriend.  I maybe saw him 4 times in that 2 months and that was to go to movies.  I was so relieved when we were finally sprayed at the beginning of December.  My oldest granddaughter was overjoyed when I walked though their door.  The hugs!  Hugs beat the bedbug blues every time!

Unfortunately the bugs seemed to be the beginning of the end for the boyfriend. He called less and less and I saw him very infrequently. We seemed to have a plan to go to Cuba though, where I hoped some alone time would help.  Over the holidays, he just stopped calling except for a text telling me Happy New year and don’t be mad, I’m going to Cuba with my friend.  That was almost 2 weeks ago and not a word since.

I knew this was a man who has lived with a very traumatic past and this is the worst time of year for him.  It took me a while to realize that he could not be ready for a relationship.  He needs to find his own self before he could ever trust his life won’t be ripped apart again.  I, of course, have had my own traumatic past.  The difference is I have both professional and familial support.  He chooses to have a different way of handling his feelings.  I’m afraid it ended with me having a broken heart because of the silence.  Or maybe I’m giving him too much credit and he really is just a jerk.  I don’t believe that though.  I do know, really, it’s for the best because, unless there is help in his life, my heart would never heal and would keep going through these unresolved issues he carries.  I think I might be stronger in some ways.  Unfortunately, I’ve now developed some trust issues of my own.  My self-esteem is even more damaged than before.  Who would want me?  I don’t feel attractive physically or emotionally/mentally.  What a mess.

There was one day that I slept away.  22 hours.  That was when I knew I had to try to do something but everything was pretty dark for me.  For those who survive depression hopefully knows everyone feels it differently; it’s never a contest, like “I have more reasons to be depressed than you do” kind of thing.  No.  What I feel ????is physical (heavy like an elephant) and mentally (my brain is a foggy bog of poo).  It’s how to get out of it is the challenge.  Sleeping 22 hours may not seem like a healthy way to do it but that was all I could do that day.  The next day was less, more like 14 hours.  Then it was 12.  I can handle 12. I did the dishes.  I tried to go grocery shopping.  Then suddenly I had stuff to do and had to get out of bed to do them so my going to bed at 7 am was not going to work anymore.  I seem to have developed a fairly normal schedule.

How I felt is so hard to explain.  I wish I had the words to tell you how dark my world was.  My dreams were where I wanted to be.  I couldn’t wait to dream because what happened in them was so much more exciting and meaningful than what my life was.  My bi-polar dreams have always been vivid but never so much as during this time.  My awake-time flashbacks from the dreams would leave me  quite confused. Once, on the rare occasion I did go out, I was very nearly hit by a bus and leapt 3 feet in the air as the driver laid on the horn, inches from my hip, waking me from my musings.  I thought no one would care anyway.  Of course I know now that is not and never been true.  I have my peeps who love me and always will.

Before Christmas, I was on the bus after seeing my mental health worker and tearsjust broke down.  I was crying in public.  No one did anything except for the lady beside me who handed me a used tissue.  I sat there with tears streaming down my face, suffering in silence.  Which is what most people do.    All this was not necessarily because of a man.  I was on my way to my darkness partly due to the isolation I was in and the feeling of not being wanted anywhere because of the blasted bugs.  I was just so sad and lonely and alone.

I missed my Dad so much over Christmas.  His joy was like a child’s when he opened gifts.  His place was empty at the table where we would squeeze his walker in.  I did have a wonderful day with my family though.  We all felt his presence there, especially when, for no explicable reason, glassware started banana-cream-pie-004falling out of the cupboard and breaking on the ceramic floor at my sister’s.  I was making the banana cream pie at the moment, which was his favourite dessert.  I had to stir and stir the homemade pudding for at about 45 minutes so it wouldn’t burn.  Maybe Dad thought I wasn’t doing it right but I kept right on stirring during all the crashing and sweeping and didn’t burn the pudding at all.  One of the best we ever made.  He was keeping me on my toes I guess.

Carly and I got wonderful news the other day.  We now have a townhouse we’re moving to through public housing.  Instead of paying rent I cannot afford it will be covered by the benefits I receive from Disability.  This is a huge financial relief for me.

I have lots to look forward to.  I will get to purge yet again.  The crap that weighs me down.  Crap that I hang on to.  Crap I can let go.   And it ain’t just because of the packing.

If I can help it, life is going be like taking a deep breath of fresh air.

 

Where Did You Go?


I have a sister who has been absent from the family for several years.  No one has heard from her for a very long time.

My sister has schizophrenia.

Since my Dad died a month ago my family has been hoping she will show up or call.  She hasn’t made any contact and my younger sister has gone to extraordinary lengths to locate her, short of hiring a private detective.

It amazes me how someone can disappear like that.  No Manitoba Health card for over 5 years so no medical treatments in that time.  She didn’t even have a card when we know she lived here for sure.

I feel so sad.  Where could she be?  I don’t want her to hide from us, to be afraid of us.

I remember going to see her at her old apartment about 3 years ago and knocking on her door and hearing her drag furniture and boxes away from her door.  After being allowed to enter, seeing her Spartan ways overwhelmed me.  She was scared, lonely and very, very ill. She couldn’t wait for me to leave and when I did, I heard all the boxes and furniture being barricaded on the other side of the door once again.

The last place she was known to live over 2 years ago the landlord said she snuck out of her apartment in the middle of the night, not taking much with her.

The fear.  I can’t know the fear she must live with every day.  All I know is the fear I have for her.  She won’t have ID so if something should have happened to her we might never find out.  No hospital stay information or death certificates would be available because no one will be able to know who she is.

This sister has become a ghost.  I know she might not want to be found but now it’s not about estates and letting her know the news about our Dad.  Now it’s about knowing she still lives, in whatever world she might find herself and hopefully still on the same earth as me.

Mental illness…another one allowed to slip through the cracks.  I can’t blame anyone for that though.  As her family we tried.  Her illness was so frightening.  I couldn’t even let my son drive her home at one time (for which he kindly volunteered) for fear of anything she might say he did or what she might do to him.  Her actions and words struck terror in my gut many times.  The medical community did their best short of locking her up for the rest of her life to make sure she took her meds. The one time she was on meds she was our sweet sister again but it didn’t last long.  Now it must have been years since she’s even seen a doctor.

I remember her when I was a very little girl.  I was very ill for the first few years of my life and still see her lovingly mothering me; taking me for walks in the carriage, scratching my back (which calmed me very much) and giving me treats.  When kids bullied me in school later on she went out and had a T-shirt made for me that said “Marie Boomer – Superstar”.  I wore that thing until the letters fell off.  It made me feel like a superstar.

I’m trying really hard to remember the wonderful sister she could be.  She left home when I was very young though and I rarely saw her until I was an adult again and her illness had progressed so much.  It’s not easy to keep the good memories alive since there are so few of them but I will.

I just hope she knows we are still here for her.

Please come home Sue…

Getting Through the Week


This week my second grandchild was born.  My Dad died on Friday and Lexi was born on Monday , 11 days overdue.  Lexi was supposed to be a boy, according to three 3D ultrasounds but came out a beautiful, healthy girl.  She was a huge surprise.  Hopefully we can find all the receipts for the boy stuff everyone bought.

I was sure having Lexi in my life, now with a huge empty space from losing my Dad, would fill in that big gap in my heart.  She does in a way but I’ve had a cold or allergies since she was born so only saw her once. My Londynn was here, though, and kept me going for one afternoon.  She makes me tired.  🙂

I no longer have my daily visits with my Dad.  Those sure got me out of the Sage, fire, memoriesapartment.  I miss him so much.  Tonight there was a sharing circle at my sisters.  It was wonderful to hear stories about my Dad coming from people I barely knew and from family I love dearly.  I  shared some of my own stories while taking in the scent of the bonfire, the sage burning in the bowl beside it and listening to the birds singing and calling out to each other.  After I was finished I threw cedar into the fire and watched it get eaten up by the flames.  Everyone else did the same. I watched the smoke drift up to the sky.  The sky looked like it wanted to rain but it held off.  I was glad I went.

Never have I felt so alone as I have this week.  It’s been a confusing time and I thought I would have been prepared for this but I wasn’t.  I’m not.  His birthday was on Tuesday and that day was just a write off for me.  I spent that whole day in bed.  I just couldn’t get up.  The same thing happened the day after he died.

I’ve gone downhill in my mental health; feeling more isolated, sleeping so much more and feeling quite alone in my already little world.  Everyone in my family are grieving too and my sister is so busy with arrangements and such.  There are a few people who have written to ask how I’m holding up (badly) or one really nice man I know tried TWICE to get me out but I couldn’t bear to leave the apartment.  He even promised me ice cream!  I received a lot of support on Facebook from my friends.  I thank them all very much for taking the time to acknowledge my loss.

I hope to be in a better frame of mind next week.  My routine goes back to normal with volunteering and seeing Dr. G again.

Now I better check myself for wood ticks.

Ciao

Songs, Birds and Goodbyes


After an incredibly long fight my Dad finally let go in the early hours of May 23.  Every day for weeks you could see the struggle within him; wanting his aging, ailing body, mind and soul to hang on, to stay here with his family and to live another 95 years.

My Dad’s final days were spent with his family surrounding him every chance they got.  I spent a huge amount of time with him and have some very happy times I really want to share.  Little things, like when we first played bird songs on my sister’s iPad and the smile that came across his face.  He wasn’t really in the same world as we were at that point so this was really nice to see.  He spent a lot of time in this another world so any indication that he heard us or recognized something else was wonderful and so very special.

The nurses all had stories to tell and all said how much they love him, how he was a favourite there.  Dad was known for his hugs after putting up big battles whenever he had to be turned or changed as it gives him so much pain.  He would fight, kick, hit and swear at the nurses and then, when they were done, calmly ask for each of them to give him a hug.  They loved it and made it worthwhile they said.

The day before he died I was there with him and my sister.  We were playing music from his era as well as songs he used to sing to us when we were little girls, all from his era as well.  “You Beautiful Doll”, “I Did It My Way”, lots of Frankie and Bing and some Al Jolson.  Of course it was hard not to cry when we heard these songs.  We even sang them to him too.  When he could still talk he told me, very politely, to stop singing please.  So when he couldn’t talk anymore, I started singing to him again.

One song, “If You Were The Only Girl..” we played over and over because he seemed to react to it the most.  I was holding his hand when he started tugging on it, urging me to get up off my chair.  I did and his other hand was searching for my other one so I grasped our hands together.  Suddenly, he started swinging my arms to the music!  We were dancing!  It was marvelous and my sister and I were laughing so hard and he was grinning as he was trying to push me over on one side then all the way over across his bed.  Finally, his incredible strength got me to almost topple right on top of him where he had me in the most incredible bear hug and had my arms all twisted like a pretzel.  I honestly couldn’t move!  My sister was laughing so hard she finally managed to choke out, “need a little help?”  I could only squeak, “yes please” when a nurse appeared, shocked at the spectacle and he let go.  I will never forget that last dance with my Dad.

I spent a night there and would have spent many more but I was on baby alert, waiting for my grandson to arrive, which, as of this date and 10 days overdue, he has not.  But I would spend all day every day with my Dad.  Yesterday, though, my sister told me something was different and maybe I should get there quickly.  So I took the hour-long bus ride earlier than I was going to, praying that he will hold on just long enough for me to say goodbye again and arrived there in plenty of time.

I leaned over him, giving him my killer smile as I always do, and, lo and behold, he smiled back, tried to say my name and wrapped his arms around me in a huge hug.  After that though, his morphine was working and he really wasn’t conscious anymore.  More family came to say goodbye and all we did for hours was watch his chest move up and down, then nothing, then up and down again.  Fooled us many times.  With his apnea, this was expected we were told.  My sister and I were finally left alone with him for the night.  My son was getting someone else to be on baby alert.

Before he finally let go my sister and I were trying to conjure up my mom so she could come and get him since he wouldn’t leave on his own.  Not 3 hours later, I noticed his breath getting shallower and quieter.  Then I went to his mouth and nose and felt for his breath.  There were only one or two more breaths, then nothing.  Still nothing.  I checked his heartbeat and got my sister to call the nurse.  The nurse came with her stethoscope and confirmed what we already knew.   My mom found him and took him home at last.

It’s so hard to believe that this is over.  My Dad is gone.  An era is finished.  It’s very strange not climbing on the bus everyday.  It’s very strange not to hear him babble about his mom and dogs and horses and call me by his sister’s name or him thinking I’m his mom or even knowing it’s me.  It’s very strange connecting to family I haven’t seen in months or years.  It’s very strange to have the first love of my life leave this earth so quietly after arguing so much and so long with whomever is in charge of our length of time on Earth.  That’s it.  All done.

But my Mom did come and get him.  I know she did.  Thanks Mom.  Love you both so much.

Trying Out The Soapbox


There was a very hurtful comment on Facebook the other day and this would have been from one of my “friends” since those are the only posts I see.  Then I heard another, similar one from someone I know who probably didn’t realize the message I was going to get.  I think the aim might have been to give me a “kick in the ass”?  I am feeling rather on the defensive side so this will come out sounding like it.  I apologize in advance but only for sounding defensive, not for what I want to say.  I’m not one to give my opinion as I usually fear it would be “wrong” but I’m learning in many cases, there is no such thing.

Many readers know that I’ve been on medical disability (part of the Employment and Income Assistance Program) through the provincial government for the last year for bi polar disorder that has been going up and down with its hold on me over the course of several years. This time it’s so I don’t rush back into working sooner than I should as I had done in the past.  I get a very, very modest income that is supposed to cover my rent, utilities and food.  Luckily I’m also covered for my medications and I get bus tickets so I can get to my medical appointments.  I am so grateful for this income, you no idea.

I’m not “lazy” or trying to rip off the government.  I am truly not able to work and have spent the last year trying to get my life to make sense, to find the focus and strength to go on for my family so I can find my way back to some kind of work, earn money and a source of pride.  It takes so much effort just to write these words because it uses energy and organization I just don’t have yet (as a matter of fact I rewrote that last line 12 times).  I was telling my friend today about how I long for the days when I could open my mouth and out would come words and ideas filled with imagination and intelligence and people looked and listened to me with respect.  Most of what I get now are some strange looks from family and friends as I, yet again, try to convey information that proves to be false or terribly mixed up or I wonder if I’m spitting on them while I’m talking.

Yeah, I’m having a hoot spending the government’s money to live in poverty.  I don’t smoke, I don’t buy booze, I don’t do recreational drugs of any kind and I don’t have a car.  It’s been a real easy way to lose more weight; goodbye to 7 more pounds thanks to the meals of crackers or whatever was leftover from whatever I made Carly for the past several days while waiting for my child tax credit cheque.  None of it exactly nutritious, excuse me for that as well please.  But she was fed.  When the cheese gets mouldy and the milk goes sour and it’s still days away from that cheque, you make do.

I so much want to work again. No one would or could ever want to do this if one could help it.  No amount of budgeting or whatever it is people think it is that someone like me is supposed to do with “all that money” will stretch it any further than it can already go.  There are no extras.  Cough medicine when I was sick? It costs money. Toilet paper costs more than $10 for crying out loud! It’s a very good thing only one of us bleeds once a month now or I don’t know how that would work.soapbox

I challenge anyone to live on $30 a day (including rent, utilities, food and any miscellaneous payments you may have, in other words for everything) for an extended period of time and, hey, get back to me about how it goes.

What started all this besides the snide comments?  I wanted to give my daughter a great 17th birthday party.  It’s been such a tough year and she’s still doing amazing at school and gives me no cause for concern like most teenaged girls her age.  I had to drastically change our plans for her birthday because of our situation.    Oh, I know it might not be a big deal for most people if they do or birthday cakedon’t go to a nice restaurant for dinner.  This was something SHE asked for specially and she doesn’t ask for very much.  Ever.  I hated the look of disappointment on her face when I finally told her there wasn’t going to be any way I could take her now.  No matter how much planning or budgeting I do I can’t justify spending that kind of money.  It really means not eating for the rest of the month or no toilet paper or no to many things.  She, of course, being the darling daughter she is, took it fine, saying it was okay but I felt my heart break for her knowing what she wasn’t showing me.  I hope to do better by her for next year when she turns that magical 18!

So that’s enough about how poor I am.  It’s not just about me.  The Manitoba government just announced its budget for the coming year and is giving an increase to Social Assistance rent benefits of about $50 to $70 a month.  https://www.policyalternatives.ca/publications/commentary/manitoba-budget-leap-forward-poverty-reduction .  I think this is a step in the right direction and still nowhere near being close to reality in Manitoba’s housing crisis.

I hear a lot of people cry out that everyone on welfare should be drug tested.  Oh my god what a message.  The majority of people, and I’m included in that group, are doing the best they can in a, hopefully, temporary situation.  These include persons with disabilities which also include people with addictions, like it or not.  The funding for helping this unique group of persons is almost non-existent.  That circle needs to be broken.

I never, ever thought I would ever need to go to  welfare but I can tell you that if it wasn’t there, where would I be?  It wasn’t all that easy to get either.  You don’t just walk in the door and say you can’t work.  There’s criteria that blew me away and I was aghast I met them all.

So give people on Assistance, Welfare, or whatever it’s referred to where you live, a break for a little while.  No one likes being poor.  Everyone likes having support and their pride intact.  I know I do.

Be part of the solution and use your voice to make it better.  And talk louder when you do.

I’ll be listening.

Thanks.

They SUCK!


Bad things happen to really nice people and my daughter just had the worst week of her life.  Sometimes teenaged boys just suck.  I’ve been dreading this…

My sweet and unsuspecting daughter’s relationship with her boyfriend of a year and a half came to an end this week.  She had no idea it was coming and is in total shock.  There is no comprehension, no reasoning she can see.  Why can’t it make the sense it should?

I feel so much of her pain.  No mom ever wants to see her child go through this drama.  I hate it. They got along well and didn’t really fight or argue a whole lot. I knew there was a strong likelihood that the relationship would end eventually because they’re so young.    I just didn’t want it to happen NOW.  A week before Valentine’s Day.  Holy cow.cookies and creme

My strong and beautiful daughter sobs like I’ve never seen her.  I let her and cry along with her sometimes.  Our home is where it’s safe to cry.  He won’t answer her texts, he isn’t calling.  This has to be the worst time in her life so far. Her heart is broken. I want to take all the hurt away, realizing eventually that this, for both of us, is all part of growing up.

I feel I’m making a difference.  She’s talking to me about her feelings, she’s set some goals, agreed to and made up some restrictions with her phone use so she won’t call him.  She listens to my advice, which I don’t give overwhelmingly. She wakes me up early in the morning just so I can sit with her until she has to leave for school.  She trusts me.carly

Needless to say, I haven’t left her alone very much.  To the dismay of my sister, I’ve even kept her home from school for 3 days and she’s now been back for 2.  The first day was hard but the second was better.  I encouraged her to get together with some girlfriends this weekend and is at a sleepover now.

I hate these hard lessons we have to face.  My memories of the first guy to dump me were horrible and will always be, even though I learned more about myself because of it.  I would call his place at all hours of the day and night and hang upprincess phone when he answered.  I would let it ring 30, 40, 50 times if he didn’t.  Needless to say there was no caller ID then.  I was so angry and sad and resentful. He was just cruel when he broke up with me.  There was no need for that.

Carly’s boyfriend wasn’t mean at all really.  He was “sugar-coating” his reasons which she recognized right away.  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, which she recognized as well.  It’s just now, for her, that hurt is burning and alive and it stabs me through my heart.  I feel it every moment she starts to cry or I look into her big brown eyes, full of sorrow.  Her posture is no longer straight and proud.  She is feeling beaten and betrayed.  How do you fix that Mom?

Time, I tell her.

We talk every evening.  I’m so proud of her for opening up about so many things I didn’t know but glad I know now.  She says I “get it”.

And I do.  I feel like a Mom again.

How about you?  The first time is always the worst isn’t it?

Kill The Demons (or just find a way to shut them up)


On January 13, 2014 and a Monday to boot, I faced a demon I’ve had in my dreams and my life for over 5 years.

This was a spontaneous decision to go to this place on this day although I had wanted to do it for a long time.  I faced the outside of the door, more than a little apprehensive on what my reception would be.  Unannounced, with no appointment but a steeliness in my heart, my hand reached out and opened the door.  My feet crossed the threshold.

I was back in the building where I spent 15 years of my life, giving it my all and then, when I left, felt like a failure.  The first thing I noticed was the silence.  This place was always full of noise when I worked there.  The next thing I noticed was a face peering at me from the front desk; older and maybe even wiser.  It took a minute for him to register who I was.  He jumped and said my name with a bit of a shout, and had big smiles for me.  I barely remembered what we talked about. We giggled a lot.

This wasn’t what I came here to do.

I asked the lovely receptionist (who was my work-husband on and off for 20 years) to see if the Executive Director was in and would he see me.  As he made the phone call, I started to notice other things.

spirit1There were ghosts.  Everywhere.  I knew that the clients I’ve known here, loved and stuck my neck out for were mostly gone now.  Their presence was obvious, though, almost like a breeze in some cases (Hi Marie, it sure is great to see you!) to waves crashing from an ocean to a shore; strong, really loud and hard to ignore (Well, looky you! WELL THERE YOU ARE!!  I knew you would come back.  Why did you leave?  Why. Did. You. Leave. Us?)

I wasn’t sure this was a good idea anymore.  What was I expecting?  It’s been a very long time since my sudden departure.  I waited at the front and saw a former staff member, one of my favourites.  I shouted her name and she turned around peering at me too.  The smile on her face was huge, the hug she gave me was huge and my heart was huge just seeing her again.  We only had a moment to chat before the E.D. came out.

His face was all lit up, grinning from ear to ear, obviously glad to see me.  I was so  happy to see that grin.  At least he didn’t have a lawyer with him. 🙂 We made our way to his office, ghosts still clamouring for my attention.

Some of the ghosts?  There was “Bill” who came to see me everyday no matter what.  Actually there were a lot of “Bills'”. And “Tim” who nobody seemed to like and he beauty of naturescared them because he was a bit crazy but I could see who he was back then, a frightened, rejected man for most of his life.  He would visit and I tried to get him to be a bit more sociable.  Sometimes it worked and lots of times it didn’t.

All through the halls, they spoke to me.

We arrived at the E.D.’s office and I sat in the familiar seat.  He was very animated and very glad to see me which he told me over and over.  I was feeling a lump in my throat.  I had to get the words out.

I explained I was here because I needed to say something about when I left so many years ago.  I wanted him to know how bad I felt about what I put him and the staff through, especially the last 6 months I was there.  I realize now how ill I had been and that there was no choice but to leave.  I didn’t hold anything against him or the organization.  It was a huge part of my life and who I was.  Unfortunately it was too huge to bear.  I couldn’t save everyone.

I also told him how much better I felt mentally.  My life is still a bit off-balance but I am now progressing rather than going backwards or stagnant.  I also told him how often I dreamt of this place (almost every night).  He wanted to know if it was good or bad dreams and I admitted to both, mostly bad.

He was so shocked that I, or anyone for that matter, would come in and say these things.  He also said that an apology was never needed nor did he ever harbour bad feelings towards me.  He could see my strength and I could feel it too.  He thought I was brave!  HA!

He explained how it had been for him and the rest of the staff:

He told me I had been such a fixture there, the staff and clients all felt a strong connection to me and could see me struggling every day.  It was awful for all to watch and he had no idea how to explain to me what was going on and what they were seeing.  Me, who could not see anything at all wrong with the way things were and it seemed pretty hopeless to get me to understand that things were not right.  He ended up putting my health first and making me go on disability.

He didn’t know what a nightmare it was for me after I left.

Now, watching his face and laughing with him and listening to the funny voices he still did that always made me laugh so much, I knew that this part of my life has some closure.

He escorted me to the clinic where I found some more long-lost staff and we reunionhugged and told stories.  Most of the staff I knew were no longer working there but, to the people who still did, I showed off pictures of my granddaughter, my dad and my kids.  They were all so amazed at my Carly and how beautiful and grown up she has become.  I was treated like much-loved and sorely missed royalty.  They were eager to hear about what’s going on in my life and what’s in store for me next.  I felt so…special.

slamming doorFinally it was time for me to go.  Off to the lawyer to slam a door on another part of my life that has been up in the air too long.

The ghosts were following me to the door, waving goodbye.

I stood outside those front doors for a minute wondering if they would follow me.  They stayed on the other side.  But they will have a better, less guilty place in my heart.

Always.

ride upon your stallion


Have you ever heard a song that stole your heart, your mind and your very soul?  I think all of us have songs that fulfill something in our lives.  Some music may make us happy or remind us of another time or even give us hope for the future.  My experience with people during the last few years has shown me how passionate one can be about music and/or lyrics.  Styles and genre is debated all the time.  I’ve learned so much from so many about music.  I don’t ever want to stop learning.

Today I heard a song that, years ago, moved me to such an extreme it changed my life and my relationship with myself.  It may not have that effect on anyone else in the world but this is something I can own and I’m marvelling at how much it still gets to me.  It’s remarkable how much it did affect me back then and how changed I am now.  It just clicked!  I feel I’ve worked harder than I thought.

It’s a song about war and a soldier who is in battle, exhausted, weak and alone.

I first heard this Tom Cochrane song back in 1995.  My sister gave me a tape she made me for my birthday and it was the last song on the 120 minute tape so it took a while to get to it.  On this day, I plunked that tape in my trusty Walkman for my daily walk in 28C heat.  I loved to walk in the heat then.

It was an amazing time for me…just bought a house with my boyfriend who had balked about committment for 4 years, my son was the light of my life and could do no wrong, I had a job I loved, some actual girlfriends, I was in great shape for the first time in ages, my parents were healthy and I had a decent relationship with most of my siblings.  I was loved.

On this walk I was finally almost at the end of the tape when the song came on.  As I listened. I could feel the heat from the sun on my face and the sweat running down my body.  Halfway though the song my legs felt weak and I sank onto the grass nearby.  I played that song over and over, crying like my heart was broken in little pieces.

Well, it was.

Shut your eyes my darling there’s nothing you can say
the man in the moon won’t fall on you
he doesn’t live there anyway
you don’t have to be a soldier to fight in your private war
let the blood you might see rain down on me
you don’t have to fight no more

I saw pictures in my head.  I saw a very little girl with bright, curly hair and old eyes.  I saw a man on a white horse reaching down for the fragile little thing and pulling her up to sit in front of him, wrapping his cape and strong arms around her.  He dried her tears and hid her fears for a time, just to show her it can be done.  He knew that all she wanted was for someone else to take the pain from her but she couldn’t let that happen because she couldn’t wish it upon anyone.

there’s nothing you can say
there’s nothing you can send
there’s nothing that can change the facts
not all the king’s men

That little girl spoke to the strong man and told him and his horse about the fear that has filled her nights in a home where she should be safe from harm and of the fear of people she loved.

He could hear her screaming.

Have you ever cried until there were no tears left? I did that day as I listened to that song again and again.  I could see that little tiny girl grow up to go to school, filled with incredible fear and loathing.  I could see what she saw; a scarred and ugly girl in school where it was kind of hard to make friends because if you looked at her funny she would cry.  She was afraid of everything.

By fourth grade there was a new abuser to take the place of the one before.  He had taken it upon himself to torture that girl and did, until high school.  Unspeakable days and nights.  The bath was her friend; so cleansing and it was the only room with a lock on the door.

ride upon your stallion
and I’ll ride upon your mare
we’ll ride so far, ride so hard
far away from here
and when we look back upon it
it all will become so clear
and the gates will open up for us
and we wont have no more fear
there’s nothing u can say
there’s nothing u can send
there’s nothing that can change the facts
not all the kings men

I know there are a lot of little girls out there just like this one.  She’s special to me though because she lives inside me and won’t go away.  Its been rather awkward sometimes, because the more I push her away the more she’s in my face.

there’s nothing you can say
there’s nothing you can send
there’s nothing that can change the facts
not all the king’s men
look away look away

you might be tired and troubled but not today
when they come down upon you
I won’t let them get anything on you
and we’ll dream away all those fears and troubles may
look away

we both were motherless children
they sent us separate ways
the family you’d seen beat down on you
mine it was okay
I’ve come to take you back now may
save you from this fate
they won’t have any more chances
to treat you this way

I’ve been in therapy for a long time because of that kid. My love/hate for her has eaten up a lot of my life.  She has made me strong though and, no matter what, I needed her.  If only she had known about me during her time. If only she had known how strong she would be.

I was brave enough a few years ago to go to the police and press charges against my abuser because I could see him grooming another girl and this girl was one I loved too.  The Crown couldn’t take it further because of the time that had elapsed but I had done it; I went on video, told that little girl’s story and dragged up details I thought were gone.  I sat through and answered every embarrassing and difficult question perfect strangers had for me, describing things in achingly painful detail.  I managed to stop him anyway.  I think he lives in fear of me now.

I found out recently my abuser lives less than a block from where I live.

Stronger.

A survivor.  I’m no longer a victim.

there’s nothing you can say
there’s nothing you can send
there’s nothing that can change all that
not all the king’s men

Now I’m listening to “All the King’s Men” by Tom Cochrane for the first time in many years.  I have been on a journey for a very long time, which most of my readers know, and I can see that horse as I listen and look into my heart. There is someone reaching down for that little tiny girl but it’s not a man at all. Not anymore.

It’s the 51-year-old …

me.

u don’t have to be a soldier
to fight in your private war
let the blood u might see rain down on me
u don’t have to fight no more

Holding you tight.  And Our heart is whole again.

Writers Block or Biters Wok


Oh hey, yeah, it’s me.  Been awhile I know.  I haven’t written anything in months!  My brain has become mush so trying to get something down on paper has been daunting.

Mush you ask?  Or did you ask?  I’m going with, yes.  Yes you did ask. And I feel like talking.

Life has been up and down, much like the moods associated with my bi-polar.  The really big news is I have an adorable granddaughter:

My heart is so filled with her sweetness and, I swear, she has a LIGHT.  Just look at her.  My son is pretty overwhelmed with the intensity of his feelings.  I asked him if he ever, ever felt this way about anyone else in his life.  He immediately said no.  I told him he may have other children but there is always something amazing about the child who made you a parent.  We love our kids the same; just differently.  Of course he deduced that I must love him more that his sister since he is my first-born.

I’ve been working part-time or unemployed this whole time.  That meant social assistance again.  I think I will, one day, dedicate a whole post just for the Welfare system.

I do have a new job.  I start this Monday.  I’m so petrified I won’t do well.  Mostly because my brain is, well, mush.

I had met a great guy and we dated for like 9 months.  We got along great and we had so much in common.  Unfortunately I was finding myself falling into the same old habits I was only partially aware I had.   I found I needed him to make me feel good about me.  I couldn’t feel even adequate unless he said I was.  I needed constant reassurance and that is just wrong.  I am supposed to love myself and it was more obvious I did not.  This was not his fault and it was hard for me to work on myself if I was waiting by the freaking phone all the time.  I also ignored some pretty strong objectionable (to me) character traits. This all came to a head a couple of weeks ago and we parted ways.  I’m certainly not going to bash him here as the man is still so dear to me and he deserves to be happy.  I miss him every day.

Please don’t expect any dating stories for quite some time.  I’m really working on myself, looking for my worth and diminishing my dependency for, what I call, needful love.  I’m tempted to write about THAT as I think I qualify as an expert.

Yeah and I had another fucking birthday.  Yippee.  Please note there is no exclamation point after that word.  My birthdays and relationships don’t go together.  My birthdays and my BODY don’t go together either.  I have had more pain these last 6 months than I ever did in my life.  I developed arthritis in my left knee.  Did you know it ATTACKS you the first time?  Oh man.  I needed a real hero to save me.

I’ll save you! You just let me handle it, little lady. *sigh*

Then, right after that, just in time for summer, my plantar fasciitis decided to come back.  Along with unbelievable low back pain, all summer I hobbled, I lurched, I was most ungraceful and very slow.  I was an old lady.

Well, that’s it.  I don’t want to push it.  I hope this didn’t come out reading too wooden.  Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think and what you would like to see.

Hey Kim Larocque!  Thank you.

Is anybody there?