sitting in my home office, i'm patiently waiting for the telecom agent to write back to me.
i'm on a "chat hold".
from time to time,  the bottom of the chat screen reads Agent is typing.

i don't want a data plan on my phone...i'm strictly a talk and text gal, and agent sherwil is investigating and providing me with explanations. turns out the telecom giant changed my plan without my consent to a plan with a built-in data-provision.

hell no! those bastards!
thinking to lull me into using their data plan unknowingly and BAM...charge me extra fees to line their pockets...or worse, the thieves charge me the data-provisioning fee even though i don't use their data.

fuck you!

if i wanted the service, i can make my own decisions and choices thank you very much! i'm seething, but it's not agent sherwil's fault - and so i remain polite and mind my p's and q's, addressing him by name as often as i can. that's what a negotiator does right? try to make a connection to make the other person feel at ease? i accept the explanation he provides me and the reassurance that the data-provision is now blocked from my plan.

though a part of me wants to fight the $10 charge, it's really not worth my time and effort. my energies are needed elsewhere.

the emotions from this betrayal from my service provider is helping to keep me distracted from other thoughts and feelings. i want to ride this out a little longer...a mix of vindication and consumer righteousness. i found purpose and achieved it. (yeah!)

but it's all classic avoidance though from having to face the real issue at heart. earlier today, on the car ride home, i let the feelings of unworthiness, jealousy and disappointment wash over me. car rides and tears...there is something about driving alone in the car that often triggers me, and i don't know why. perhaps because being in a car alone i ironically feel safe enough to permit myself to be vulnerable, despite the potential risk of being in an accident if simple tears should turn into blinding tears and gasping sobs. 

and lets not forget, the odd looks i would get from the other drivers...cuz as humans, we're drawn to staring at things we have difficulty processing. i know i would be curious as hell and wondering from inside my car..."why she crying? what's got her down?" and for the rest of the car ride home, i'd be directing a whole hollywood storyboard and netflix production in my mind. yes ma'am...i am the showrunner of my imagination. but i digress...

it's mother's day this weekend. but i'm not a mother. i have never been a mother. i have no dependents. so on such a weekend...women like me, what are we to do? how are we to be celebrated? especially those of us who have been trying without success. where's our hallmark consideration? and how do we voice it...voice our pain of not being able to celebrate being a non-mother and still acknowledge our desire for motherhood and to love as mother's love their family.

in recent years, on social media, i've seen more and more posts acknowledging how mother's day is not easy for all women, but it hasn't gone mainstream enough. and certainly, businesses and consumer economic drivers are clueless in their role in propagating the standard messages. my own mother isn't aware of my own struggles and desires for motherhood - her longstanding position being that should i become a single mother, it would be a problem. i've long accepted her disapproval on my choices to go it alone - but neither have i shared with her my attempts at trying to get pregnant over the past year. i'll be celebrating mother's day with her, all the while, working on holding it together - because either the day i do become pregnant, or the day i stop trying - only then, would i consider letting her in on everything i've done or tried to do to become a mother.

so to the women out there without children of their own...i wish you a happy non-mother's day and may you still be celebrated and acknowledged for being a strong female presence within your family circle.

the nurse returned my call.
i have an appointment with the doctor later this month and as a result, she doesn't think it would be appropriate to pursue any treatments this month. wait and see what the doctor prescribes, she says.

my heart tightens and i close my eyes to stem the tears.
waiting...again.
stupid blunted surges. fuck!

i'm angry and frustrated. the polypectomy this past summer hasn't resolved my heavy menstrual cycle and i can feel my flow gushing freely. wearing the heavy pads and using the ultra absorbent tampons isn't stopping the blood from soaking through my pants either. lovely. just lovely.

and now, my ovulation cycles aren't firing off, though a common reality in women my age.

but, one more month? i've come this far, having taken the tests, completed the recommended surgery, selected and ordered my donor sperm...and yet, i'm still in a holding pattern. i had hoped that i would have at least had a few treatments by now, but obviously the universe thinks otherwise. 

my body is simply not in its optimal state - that's the reality. too many years of stress, emotional eating, trauma and recovery, have taken its toll and in truth, i'm a bit of a mess. and like many woman in my situation and age, the ticking clock is loud, which doesn't help our anxiety levels. patience isn't an ally in this case.

as i flip through my photo album, i find a picture that i took a few summers ago. in my parking spot, a lone plant grew from out of the pavement. despite the harsh urban setting, nature still found a way to adapt, grow and flourish. i remember, at the time, being in awe of the seed's resilience to set roots and its audacity to thrive alone in concrete.

so let's look at this from a different perspective, i tell myself. yes, the odds are against me, but it gives me one more month to continue with my commitment to do better by my body - focus on my physical health. eat cleaner, lose some weight, and lower my blood pressure. and yes, the doctor might have some other recommendations to help things along and those are all positives. 

so, what's one more month?
it's a gift in time to set the stage for adaptation.

i can do it.
i have to do it.
and i'm not afraid to do it.

because i'm a priority in my life.
for the first time in a long time, i want something badly enough to make it happen.
because i have to believe that in making this choice, miracles will happen.
and...i just want the one miracle.
.

"you must make a choice, to take the chance, or your life will never change."

"intentions can change reality."

"be a priority in your life."

"stop waiting. life moves faster than you think."

it's been raining for most of the day - a consistent and persistent rain. i imagine rain droplets as little molecular soldiers, all with a mission to land and penetrate the soil. there's a respite at the moment...the rain on pause. despite the rain, lady humidity lingers about making herself at home. lady humidity and i aren't friends...i find her presence annoying. for now, i'm willing to tolerate her presence...better her than the hoards of unwanted pollen that have been dancing about in the air for the past few weeks.

i look at my list of draft posts, debating whether to finish one of the dozen or so blogs that I've started or to start a new one. i'll be honest, i'm not feeling particularly inspired at the moment. but i do have the urge to do something...to unleash myself and feel the rawness, to be humbled, and to fall forward. i also have an urge for a coffee and cigarette.

i'm single and i struggle with depression and personal demons. on a rainy day like today, it would be so easy to fall into myself. but i look over to my wall of post-it notes and i'm reminded of the goal i set out for myself on my 40th birthday last year - to do 40 remarkable things, big and small. it's not meant to be a bucket list, but a reminder to myself that i don't live in a rut. i'm reminded of a recent The Time of My Life by cecelia ahern, where the protagonist lucy silchester has an appointment with her life and she has no choice but to meet it face to face. in the end, lucy sums it up quite nicely:

"as long as you're around, your life is too. so just as you shower love and affection on the husbands, wives, parents, children and forever friends who surround you, you have to do so equally with your life, because it's yours, it's you, and it's always there rooting for you, cheering you on, even when you feel like you can't do it. i gave up on my life for a while, but what i've learned is that even when that happens and especially when that happens, life never gives up on you. mine didn't. and we'll be there for each other until those final moments when we will look at each other and say, 'thanks for staying until the end.' and that's the truth."

i've done just that this past year - found ways to invite life back into my life - to celebrate with it. in other aspects, i removed things that no longer had purpose or were hindering my life. i didn't reach my goal of 40, but that's not important - i tried, and along the way, learned things about myself.

1. attended the rcmp musical ride - i've never been on the grounds of the rcmp stables to see the musical ride - i've toured the facilities and will often try to go out at dusk while the horses get some freedom to roam the fields. but it was impressive to see the riders in unison. bonus: my neighbour was performing as one of the riders.
2. tried a new recipe - can't remember which one prompted me to write this, but i started a pinterest board of the recipes i have tried and liked. 
3. got rid of my landline - i'm now living the cellular life. this was an exercise of letting go.
4. met my idol rebecca caine -  i fell in love with her voice as christine in phantom of the opera and cosette in les miserables. i fell in love with rebecca even more when at the concert, she performed a song that was once performed by deanna durbin, my ultimate idol. i belted out showtunes on the car ride home. 
5. said good-bye to my honda civic, welcomed a toyota yaris - another exercise of letting go. my honda civic and i had a 17 year relationship and to let her go, that was hard. 
6. finished the book "saved by a poem" by kim rosen - i had had the book for over a year and finally was able to return it to its owner. bonus: a few months later, through serendipity, i ran into its owner, my former counsellor.
7. saw spiegelworld, an adult only circus show - i've seen circus shows, hell, i even dated and slept with a clown, but this show was funny, sexy, sensual and mildly dirty. 
8. i went camping - solo car camping in fact, with hewey. i wasn't sure how hewey would do so we slept in my new toyota yaris, and as a little bonus, we car camped in a walmart parking lot too. 
9. went to the CNE - i didn't try any rides as i was there for work, but it was an experience unto itself. 
10. enrolled into a dog trainer certification program - it was an intense first semester and i still feel there is so much to learn about dog behaviour, cognition and training. unfortunately, i had to postpone the second semester to the following year. 
11. went through jury selection process - i did my civic duty and presented myself at court. i was excused as i had a business trip scheduled. i do however still wish to be part of a jury one day - as long as its not a sexual assault case. 
12. attended the scotiabank nuit blanche - from 6pm to 6am, i ran all around toronto to see the various works by artists. i'll never attend this event again. i simply wasn't impressed with the thematics nor the curation, and each year it gets worse.
13. got rid of my office shelf - another exercise in letting go, but happy that it has found a new home and used to keep all my nieces toys organized.
14. cancelled a credit card - another exercise in letting go, and a continued effort to declutter and simplify my life. 
15. held a stag beetle - it was quite remarkable to be holding such a large bettle and have it crawl up my arm. stag beetle i can handle. spiders crawling up my arms, no.
16. ate a chocolate covered cricket - the best comparison would be, it was like eating chocolate covered rice crispies, only a better protein option! i doubt i'm ready to eat slugs though *shudder*
17. submitted my cv and resume - i seek new challenges and new opportunities at work. to keep my options open, i need to keep my resume in circulation. 
18. hired as a dog trainer teaching assistant - an opportunity to work with clients and their dogs, while at the same time applying what i've learned. 
19. held a snake and i liked it! - i understand the fascination of snakes now that i've held one. it was an amazing experience to feel their muscle contractions as they moved, as well as feel the delicate flicker of their tongue on my skin. 
20. attended my first meet-up event - a friend and i challenged each other to attend 1 social gathering a month and to expand our network. so as my first meet-up, i picked an introduction meet up sessions for we are the ducklings. it snowed 50cm that night and i still made it out. 
21. signed up to be a we are the ducklings member - in a future post, i'll write about this group and why i joined. 
22. attended my first art battle - it was an amazing experience to watch artists create a painting in 20 minutes. bonus: i bought a painting!
23. volunteered with habitat for humanities - not wanting to give up using my volunteer day, i signed up with habitat for humanities - used a drill, sawed and painted walls/ceilings. all in all, a great day!
24. groomed a horse - well a pony really. i could have spent the whole afternoon brushing its mane.
25. de-boned a leg of lamb - i had watched a number of videos on how it's done, but in the end, a one-on-one tutorial with a chef is so much better. 
26. attended nature nocturne - it was an adult night at the museum with really expensive drinks, dj music and poorly lit fashion show. i doubt i'll ever attend another nature nocturne event. 
27. made cold-pressed soap - it was a group event, but now that i'm using my hand-made soap, i'd love to try it again with different essential oils. 
28. accepted a new work assignment - i've been given the chance to challenge myself, finally!
29. found a lost dog - put to use all the lessons i've learned about dog behaviour and watching dog rescue videos.
30. attended my 1st canine seminar - while much of the presentation repeated things i've learned in class and through the reactive rover classes, it was still a great opportunity to be in a room with so many other dog trainers, rescue works and pet owners. 
31. visited an organic farm - well a commercial organic farm, cuz lets face it, my parents garden is a fully organic farm as well. but they don't have a pen with 100 chicks!
32. donated blood - well, i gave a pint of my blood and still waiting to hear if my blood is usable. along the way, i got to meet and interact with network of friends.
33. attended a school of sex workshop - it was part of a we are the duckling event. as an event planner, i was disappointed. but on a personal front, it challenged me to meet and talk with other men. the resulting experience will most likely be a future blog post.
34. signed up for sex therapy workshop - the subject is on body image and it finishes with a boudoir photo shoot! Time to add some new articles of clothing to my wardrobe!

i have a bieber song in my head. it's been stuck there since the morning with the refrain "sorry" repeating itself like a broken record. i give credit to the kid - the song has a catchy tune, but i'm no bielieber. and with the mood i'm in right now, it's not improving my emotional state.

i think of poet Kim Rosen and her teachings. i suspect there's something in the lyrics that has nicked my nerves. a quick google search for the lyrics drums up hundreds of web results and i choose one, skimming over the words - literally, a fast read. i make sure not to connect with the words - i have the tune stuck in my head, i have no desire to have the lyrics "written on the bones," as Kim would say. no, i'm in no mood for either forgiveness or second chances - these being the words that pop out from the screen. i keep the veil of cynicism cloaked around me, guarding all my supressed frustrations and annoyances. it forms a slick layer of grease on my skin and it irritates me further.

it's february and the weather is fucking gorgeous. the sun shines brightly outdoors - the light bouncing off the white snow. it's a scene that is postcard perfect, and yet, i feel like it's mocking me. i imagine all the people outside soaking in their required vitamin D, and a battery symbol with the percentage of the charge level above each of their heads.

who is at full?
who is maximizing their efficiency for their charge to last?
who is running on empty?
and their charge level, is that indicative also of their level of happiness?

i want to be happy. i often pretend i'm happy - the mask goes on and i resemble someone who has their shit together. but i'm on the verge of cracking. i slip - i keep forgetting to lock my door at night. i gorge on food and smoke cigarettes. i wring my hands and clasp them tightly. i sink back into the hole in the sidewalk. i disconnect. and this all irritates the shit out of me too.


distractions - i seek them out. i'm on edge and the bieber song isn't helping me - it's like chinese water torture. i want to drown out the song - avoidance is flashing like a warning signal, its message coursing through all the neuro pathways. i pick a romantic comedy from my on-line library - happythankyoumoreplease. i have no idea what the film is about - i simply need an escape. if i get a few laughs out of it, bonus.

but then i freeze. pablo schreiber is in this film. shit.

(a little context - up to this point, i've only ever seen schreiber in Law and Order SVU, where he plays a very convincing serial rapist, william lewis. his portrayal of this character has plagued and challenged my anxieties over the years - he embodies and reminds me so vividly of my own rapist - manipulative, controlling, expressionless, a predator.)

there are clearly messages that the universe keeps leaving at my door step, and no matter how many distractions i put up as obstacles, that knock on the door isn't going away. it's schreiber's character in the film, charlie, where i gain a bit of insight:

“Did you play sports when you were a kid? D’you remember ‘walk it off’. No matter what happened right? I mean your eye-ball could be hanging out of its socket, coach would run over, scoop you up; ‘Hey you’re alright kid just walk it off.’ And I’m sure a few of those times I was legitimately hurt, but just having this concept, walk it off, as a way to, I don’t know, heal myself, it worked. I just walked that shit off.”

walk it off. it's as simple as that. it's not about running to escape, but walking it off to heal. i do just that. it feels good to get the legs moving and breathing in the crisp winter air. i have no destination in mind, so i head to the local mom and pop shop to check my lottery numbers. i don't win anything, but i buy another set for the following draw. who knows, maybe with a little thank you, more please, i might win something more.

as i continue on my walk, i sense a lightness - i seize the chance and face the yet undefined thing that is causing me distress. the blurry edges come into focus and hones in on my anxieties. ghomeshi. there's a whole media storm going on right now. i cringe when i read the onslaught of questions posed by defence counsel to the victims. the chatter around the trial is everywhere and it overwhelms me. but ultimately, i hate how defence is painting a picture of "you liked boy, you sexted with boy, you wanted boy" with a timeline detailed and outlined for all to see. i acknowledge defence counsel is doing her job, but i find it hard not to take it personally - with each question, i find myself reflecting back to my own actions or inactions. did i do/say something that could be perceived as consent to cause the outcome of my rape?

i remind myself that this isn't my trial and i'm not on any stand to be judged. the debates, the dialogue, the comments - these are needed to effectuate change, and though it may at times make me uncomfortable and vulnerable, i need not fear it. and if it does, well, i just need to buy a pair pf new runners so that i can walk that shit off.

he reminds me of james franco.
his picture has been in the newspaper for the past month.
but james franco he is not.

i met him about five years ago - deepak - not james franco. he was part of the group celebrating the birthday boy and i was a tag along.  he was very charismatic and charming with an easy smile. he had beautiful dark curly hair, hidden under a grey beanie and though it was late and we were inside, he wore these large sunglasses. deepak had his own style and he seemed at ease and comfortable with his surroundings.

he asked what i did and i explained the events i produced. he confessed that he and his cousin had taken to "ice climbing" the large ice sculptures of a boat my event had created one year. the event producer in me was shocked and angry, but i silently admired his guts and sense of adventure. the night went on with amusing stories of his wild adventures as well as some serious discussions about life.

this was the only night i encountered deepak, but he left a strong impression - he had a vibe and presence about him that endeared him to others. he was so full of energy and easily drew in and connected with people, i thought to myself, "he reminds me of a younger james franco". and with each passsing winter, i would often wondering if i would run into him again, perhaps late at night climbing another ice sculpture.


a month ago, the news reported of having found a body. i would have dismissed this as another tragic story of a drug addict and moved on, but the young man's name triggered my memory rolodex. it was deepak. it was his tragic story i was reading.

on learning of his struggles with mental illness and addictions, it jarred with my initial impression of deepak - the happy, smiling and charming young man at the bar. i grieve for this deepak, but having struggled silently with my own depressions and anxiety, i have compassion and empathy for the other deepak i never knew and his sufferings.

at this point, i'm torn. i want to honour deepak's memory...the young man so full of life and adventure...but my only memory of him is of that one night at the bar celebrating his friend - the birthday boy. i didn't know it at the time, but that night set in motion a series of poor choices on my part that would later engulf me in regret, shame and guilt. if we were to play the six degrees of separation game, the only connection between deepak and i is the birthday boy...the birthday boy would eventually become my rapist.

i don't want to remember deepak this way, not linked to my feelings and memories of my rapist.

i want to honour deepak's spirit, and his desire to live as he would have wanted to - at peace and happy. so, in february, on a clear night, next to the large ice sculpture, i'll create a candle holder with coloured ice blocks, light a little candle and imagine him climbing upwards and being free. this is how i want to remember and honour deepak.

my mother's hina matsuri display

today is march 3rd - hina matsuri - when the japanese people pray for the happiness and healthy growth of girls.

i don't really know much about the tradition, other than my mother would bring out her dolls each year and offer food. sometimes she would dress my sister or i in a kimono. we may have sung a few songs. she would sometimes take pictures to mark the occasion. and just as soon as she would put them out, the display of dolls would be gone, as if they were never there in the first place.

this year, she put them out early in February.

"why do you have them out so early this year?" i asked.

"because, i'm wishing that you'll be married soon," she says. "if i put them out earlier, i thought it might bring you better luck."

huh?

growing up, what my mother failed to tell me is the old superstition - if families don't put the dolls away by march 4th, their daughters will have difficulty finding husbands or would be late to marry. i suppose i should have taken more interest in my cultural traditions and customs but as a young girl, i had no connection to these dolls, the festival or their significance. fancy figurines of the emperor and empress, these dolls were not play dolls...i assumed they were just displays that one put out like hallowe'en or christmas decorations. of course, in japan, the hina matsuri has taken on a whole holiday marketing campaign to sell the "must-have" items for the celebration.

i had no idea my mother put so much weight on the superstitions.  if i had been more aware of the significance of the hina matsuri, would i have had a different view of myself as a girl growing up? does this tradition have an impact on how men value and treat girls?

i ask this last question because today the media is abuzz about the documentary India's Daughter by leslee udwin, which will be aired globally on march 8th to coincide with international woman's day. udwin journey's to india after the horrific gang rape of a young woman on december 16, 2012. she interviews the rapists and their lawyers to examine their values and mindset and she uncover where the true problem lies:

"these offences against women and girls are part of the story, but the full story starts with a girl not being as welcome as a boy, from birth...if a girl is accorded no value, if a girl is worthless than a boy, then it stands to reason there will be men who believe they can do what they like with them."

perhaps it's time india adopts a form of hina matsuri and accord to their daughters equal happiness and healthy growth as their sons, with men committed to ensuring that this outcome is honoured and achieved.

and on that note... i don't anticipate or expect marriage in 2015 - my mother's wish will be left unfilled again this year. sorry mom. i have no desire to set myself with those kinds of expectations - i don't feel that's how one achieves happiness. but what i can do for myself today is celebrate and honour my own personal journey to be happy and healthy. i chose to celebrate the girl that i was, all the potential she was born with and to continue to uncover the woman she is becoming...all the while celebrating the girl/woman she is today.

sending out the same hope and prayer for all young girls elsewhere as well.

kumpai!

a facebook friend request...
a short email note...
i'm hanging suspended in this emotional limbo...

but to understand my state a little, rewind the film reel...

Timeline - Jan 2015
sitting on a futon in my friend's apartment, i sat listening to her talk about the man she wanted to be with, but couldn't, the back and forth reasons, emotional outbursts, the justifications, the back story of how it came to be and not to be. classic break up emotions to which i assured her, the feelings are normal and that it was okay to grieve the end of a relationship. i also shared my own experience and views that when one breaks up with someone, you can't instantly go from boyfriend/girlfriend to become "just friends".  our minds may try to convince us of it, but our irrational emotions don't follow the same logic. my friend bemoaned how she couldn't stop texting her ex and how she hoped he wouldn't text her back.  and i listened to her recite their text exchange, i asked her if she realized that she was the one instigating the ongoing exchange, fueling the drama, and did she realize it?

for those of us who have been emotionally and psychologically bruised and abused, not being able to control a situation is something hard to accept. what started as a means to protect ourselves emotionally has become our worst self-sabotaging tool. to give oneself the space and time to heal, one must sometimes sever ties after a break-up, to gain that perspective, and to be able to let go of the emotional baggage. when enough time has a passed and the tangent connections of the past reconnect, then yes, perhaps the "friends" zone is possible.

Timeline - Feb 2015
my past reached out to reconnect. a simple message.

"I won't lie.  I do miss my Winterlude sushi. Hope you're well."

i don't know how many times i re-read that phrase, the past guilt and shame washing over me. there was also a hint of excitement. but i was now having to practice what i preached.  had enough time passed for my past and i to return and be friends again? was my self-respect, pride and self-worth intact? how many steps backward would i be taking if i did reconnect with my past?

my situation with him is one of my greatest regrets and shame.

Timeline - March 2011
we were friends and industry peers. we would text, write, talk...with jokes that often bordered on the naughty. st-patty's day, i crossed that friendship line and drove to his house. as i drove, my mind tried to reason with desire. i wanted a lasting and authentic relationship - and to do that, i knew i would have to be honest with him - no matter the consequences. but when he kissed me, i was lost and my intention to disclose my STD status before having sex with him didn't happen as i had planned.  poor timing and judgement on my part - i told him while having sex (note: condoms were used). not my proudest moment.

his reaction was, well, understandable. i stood in the room silent. utterly ashamed. and in the midst of the chaos and his tirade, he asked me a question "Why won't you love me?" i couldn't answer him. afterwards, i would write him an apology, but what we had was over and there really wasn't anything that i could do to fix things. we ended all contact. and for that, i am grateful. although at times, i feel i took the coward route by running away from the situation.

Timeline - 2013/2014
it has always bothered me how things ended that st. patty's day night. my whole behaviour and reactions, or lack there of, bothered me. that hole in my sidewalk was my solace for a long time - i stopped going out, i removed myself from the local music scene in fear of facing him. it wasn't until i was in counselling that i finally gained some perspective about what was bothering me...and it stems a lot in what was not voiced.

as a father, i respected him.
as a musician, i admired him and was proud of him.
but as a man, i loathed him.

his question then: why won't you love me?
my answer now: because when i am with you, you make me feel i'm only worth a pussy and a secret.

after a naughty text, phone calls or chats at the bar, he would end things with "just between you and me, right?" my stomach would knot. as i would replay those memories, i would later realize that whenever he would end our communication with those words, i would feel like i was 14 years old again with the family friend telling me that what he was doing to me wasn't true love but just a game, and to be kept as a secret.

i had shared this part of my past with him before. in hindsight, i don't know if he really remembers me telling him, but as my friend, i expected him to remember and put two and two together, be compassionate and considerate. but no, i was simply a secret to him too.

Present day
"well maybe sometime we can get in touch, catch up."
with the FB messages and emails, I was ready to run back, serve humble pie, and do anything to patch up our relationship. i won't lie...i also wanted the satisfaction to say all the things written above and sticking it to him.  but last night, a good friend of mine talked some sense into me.

her advice and wisdom: what will instigating a meeting up with him achieve? and what if he doesn't react the way you want him to? you already have your closure. you may WANT to tell him things, but you don't NEED to. there's a difference. don't set yourself up just for the sake of telling him things - you can't control the outcome, but if you do run into him again, just let it happen.

i'm happy he's reached out and i do hope that there is a way forward for the two of us...but i don't need to get on that roller coaster ride. my emotions and state of mind are standing on the same firm ground...and there is no plan to stray from my journey. just the simply awareness and to be able to practice what i preach is a reward in itself.

i am so deprived of sleep that i think i'm falling into madness...

my mind is ready to bolt...if i could, without waking up all my neighbours, i would take everything out of my kitchen cupboards in one full swoop...one big loud crash...i would overturn everything in this house, i would burn it all down...

this isn't me...this isn't who i want to be...this isn't where i want to be.

there is no Hell Ya feeling...

i've lost my edge. i've lost the story of who i am and what i'm capable of.

and that is sad...this journey was supposed to be about finding myself and instead, i find myself feeling more lost than ever...

i'm tired of feeling like i'm going backwards or stalled in everything i do...

i used to be a change agent...i used to love innovation and making a difference...now, i just want to snap at everyone and tell them to go fuck off...

i feel so detached and so disconnected...disengaged...disillusioned...and what infuriates me is that i've done this to myself...i've allowed it to happen as i sink into the shadows...i'm not seen, i'm not heard, i'm invisible...it's a bit of the victim mentality and i hate this about myself...

there's a milestone to be attained this year...and i desperately want a change for the better...i can't continue to live like this...with bitterness, with abject apathy...

so where do i begin?

a part of me wants to jump the path and start on a new street and not look back...

another part of me wants to stay on the street, but to remove all distractions in one full swoop...

another part of me wants to stay on the road, but invite more chaos...

and another part of me just wants to end it all and slip into darkness...this is the thought that i fear the most and what i am currently battling...i know i am fortunate, i know i have things that people dream of...and yet, i'm not living my dream...i have not attained my dream...and that bitterness is festering and maddening...

ironically, i did one of those online quizzes and my anthem song they selected for me was One Republic's I Lived...



This is what I am aiming for...to find that part of me that will take the essence of the song and chose to live...to beat the odds...to not be confined by how others define me or how i define myself...as the song says...to own every second that this world can give...

I'm no athlete. I'm uncoordinated, my reflexes are slow. And team sports, I'm certainly no champion player.

Regardless, I signed up to participate in a Sports League.  A friend encouraged me to sign up, as did my counsellor - it offers opportunities to meet new people and a chance to step outside of my comfort zone.

Each week, before the game, I am filled with dread and anxiety. Between my lack of confidence in my athletic skills and all the doubts of my old self trying to clamor and push their way back in, I struggle with the urge to stay home and hide.

Tonight was no exception. I was tested on so many fronts - physically, mentally, emotionally and socially.  As I laced up my shoes and faced the other team, I felt the anxiety within me crescendo, building momentum, drumming and pulsing louder and stronger.  I thought I was going to be sick. I felt like I was going to have a manic episode right on the volleyball court. I could feel my body begin to quiver, my hands ready to wring in the air, my heart beating, my breathing going erratic. My flight responses were cued and ready.

And then...I took a little moment. As my counsellor would say, "Slow down."

I acknowledged the anxiety.

I used my frenetic feelings and energies to my advantage by channeling it within me as needed - to my feet, my arms, my vision, my voice, my lungs. I became more focused and ironically, I also became aware of a different feeling - the sense of inhibition and freedom.  That simply acknowledgement enabled me to trigger a fight response, and for the critical mind to sit out this round on the bench and letting the body and instincts to take the lead to accomplish what needed to be accomplished.  This awareness to me symbolizes my transition from survivor mode to thriver mode. And this makes me all kinds of happy. I found myself fearlessly flying after the volleyball, I found my voice to call the ball or to ask for help and my body memory quickly came back with my old serving routine - bounce the ball three times, spin the ball in my palm three times, and then recalling my father's voice not to let my eyes leave the ball as my fist made contact for the serve.

As the cliche goes, it's easier said than done. A year ago, I would have been discouraged and frustrated with not comprehending how to process my feelings, how to overcome my anxieties, or how to move forward. With time and space, acceptance  is like a Zamboni - it clarifies and cleans the surface, making it safer and level for the self to come out and play. And once that happens, there is a greater purpose for one to jump onto the court and kick, catch, and throw your way through the process. It forces the body, mind and heart to work together as a team, to let go of what they can't control, and to trust and be in awe of the unknown.

I'm grateful I've chosen to fight my way though my anxieties because through each experience, I've gained so much more in fighting than if I had chosen to flee.

My fingers are poised over the keyboard.  My eyes closed and I'm simply listening...waiting...being...

I'm waiting for that source of inspiration to hit....but all I hear are the lyrics to John Legend's song "All of me", mixed with a bit of Hoobastank's "The Reason", my original anthem song.

My sessions with my counsellor are nearing an end...the ending of a chapter.  As in any journey, one always gets a sense when it's time to move on...that it's time to leap and move forward on your own.  In my sessions, I sensed greater positive energy, strength, courage and hope within myself so I knew...I know it's time to step out and venture on my own.

I'm feeling apprehensive and anxious. But there's that nagging feeling within me...an edge.  The whimsical me who has been hiding behind the full skirts is now tugging at the skirt, trying to get my attention and she's got her hand already on the doorknob, ready to sprint from the brick house and into the world beyond...to explore, to discover, to chase, to simply be.  But I can also see now that this girl I'm looking at isn't merely the innocent girl full of whimsy that I've been protecting and hiding - no, she's a woman with a sense of curiosity, wonder, and adventure. She's aware of the risks and obstacles she may face, but she's is bright and resourceful enough to figure things out as the situation arises. She doesn't need a cage or an armor to protect her. She is her own champion who has learned to voice and express what she wants.

Regardless...I know that I'll be here a little longer yet on this blog...this chapter may be ending, but the start of my next journey is only beginning...

It's been a fairly dreary, wet and cold summer, but now that we've reached the last week of August, Summer has finally perked up and the hot humid days and nights have returned, drinking in every last minute of what time remains of Summer.

I don't blame Summer - I'm doing the same thing.  I've been reflecting on all the adventures I've enjoyed these past few months against what I had hoped to do, what I've learned from the experiences, and what more can I do with what is left of Summer.

At the start of the summer, I created my Summer of Bliss list as a way to reconnect with my whimsical self and to embrace the present:

1. Jump off a Bridge (incomplete - a few weeks after I completed my list, the local police posted a warning - $200 fine for anyone caught jumping off the bridge into the river - need to find a new bridge).
2. SkyZone (incomplete - but activity scheduled for this week - I'm going to jump on the trampolines until I am breathless).
3. Water Park (incomplete - but I plan to attend before the park closes for the season).
4. Speeddating (completed - I committed myself to get out of my box and challenged myself to meet new people. Matches lined up and moving along my personal journey to engage my authentic self).
5. Camping (completed - it was for one night, but it was nice to be surrounded by nature, kayaking on the lake, swimming at the locks and simply slowing down).
6. Read 10 books (incomplete - I've read one book so far)
7. Attend local festivals (completed - attended the Garlic Festival, Cheese Curd Festival and the Opening of a new Park).

If I were given the chance to repeat these past 8 weeks, I wouldn't change much...it has been the most rewarding summer for me in a long time...the kind of summer I used to dream of. I loved the time I spent with myself, re-connecting to both my essensual and whimsical selves and I have author Sarah Ban Breathnach's to thank.  Her book Romancing the Ordinary: A Year of Simple Splendors has been my main source of inspiration for my Summer of Bliss.

As for not completing all that I had planned, Sarah writes:

"Plenty of time left for a summer fling."

And so that is what I plan to do - to continue and complete as much as I can before the leaves change and fall beckons me to spend time with her.

For me to make a commitment to myself, I need to take a good, hard look not only at what I value about me, but whether I value me as a person...although I value myself generally and think of myself as someone with a positive sense of self, when it comes to romantic relationships all bets are off...when it comes to work of friends, I value me for me. When it comes to romantic relationships, my self-worth flies out the window.
As a person, I channel my positive energy towards my work, friends and family.

So why can't I commit to myself? Do I think I'm more trouble than I'm worth?  I fully admit that I am my own worst enemy. I have a habit of criticizing instead of praising myself; seeing the mistakes instead of the successes. 

We were raised to believe that we should give to everyone else -- take care of everyone else -- before we take care of ourselves...at the end of the day, we have nothing left to give...but if you can't commit to give to you, to take care of you, then pretty soon you have nothing left but a broken shell of who you used to be.

Up until recently, I went for the alternative to making a commitment to myself. I made commitments to everyone else...but to commit to me? No, thank you. if you commit to yourself and rely on yourself, when who are you going to blame when things go wrong...of course, I blamed myself anyway - for my own problems and everyone else's as well. 

• Making my home a home - after 6 years of living in my condo, I believe it's time I acknowledge that I am living here and not planning on moving anytime soon.  And if I do, who cares! I want to claim this space as my own - and as I browse and research different styles and designs, I'm learning to listen and trust my gut what I want and how I want to transform this space, as well as discovering my own tastes and personality.  I've started by declutttering, buying a few furniture pieces but more importantly, I've put a nail in my wall to hang a picture - this to me has always been a representation and test of what commitment means to me.
• Shedding the pounds - I'm nearing the big 4-0, and so I've made a commitment to lose 40 lbs before my milestone birthday. I've reached 25% of my goal so far and it's been an amazing feeling to have that goal and also having the dogged determination to want it as well. I've faltered and fallen off the wagon, but I'm not going to let myself stand there as the wagon drives off into the far off distance. I'm totally capable of catching up to that wagon and jumping back on. 
• Connecting with my self - This is a category that I've grouped a number of hobbies and interests but with the main thread of connecting to my self and continuing to peel back the dead layers so that there is more room to breathe and grow - yoga as a way to connect me to my body and surrounding energies, reading to connect with my mind, writing/painting/music to connect with my creativity, wearing dresses to connect with myself as a woman, to go out at least once a week and do something without my dog so that I'm meeting new people, and so on. I'm doing this to honour a friend who has struggled but lives with such grace and had I been in her place, I don't know if I could have coped. And so for her, I use these daily practices to understand and perfect the art of imperfection, to be comfortable with my vulnerability, and to continue healing.   

• I've joined weight watchers. I've worked on creating a healthier approach to food and understanding that I am accountable with every food choice I make. The weight has started coming off and I am proud of it, even giddy when friends and colleagues mention it. It's certainly helped to get a better grip on my emotional eating.
• By understanding my relationship with Guilt and Shame, I've learned not to let my secrets hold me prisoner. I'm learning to see that my own desires, wants and needs are valid, and that I am equally accountable to nurturing them so that I can enjoy life's pleasures free of guilt and shame. 
• I've been traveling down memory lane these past few months, trying to reconnect with my lost self from a time long ago - trying to reconnect with her whimsical passions for reading, writing, the outdoors, debating, and reconnecting with my friends close, afar and from my childhood. By remembering my lost self, I'm remember what centers me and the destiny that I once longed for and realizing that there is no better time than the now to take those steps and go after that dream.

But from time to time, I am plagued with doubts and I fall back a few steps. There's a trigger and I experience a flashback. An acute attack of anxiety has me spinning and I feel out of control.  I fall back into old patterns of self-sabotage - eating until I am numb, wanting that pack of cigarettes, wanting oblivion, not wanting to do anything but sleep and never wake up.

This method doesn't always work. It's my mind's way of grasping control in anyway it can.

Being vulnerable is part of the process and acknowledging the root cause of the agitation and anxieties is a far better approach and method to moving forward. Intellectually, I understand this concept and that freedom can be achieved by surrendering to vulnerability, but it's still something that I struggle with internally and to put into daily practice. And as a rape victim, I struggle with that on a whole other level.

So for now, this is my perspective - by surrendering to one self, it dissipates the conflict and the feelings of agitation retreats until one is left wondering, what caused it in the first place?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
now...Now...NOW!
my mind tells me.
fly...Fly...FLY!
my instincts prompt me.
eat...Eat...EAT!
my body urges me.

...surrender, whispers the heart.

(Note: I've started reading poetry again and I thought I would use this medium to express myself.)

He had a fantasy.

He described in detail what he wanted...what he would do.
I told him no.

He kept pushing his fantasy.
And I pushed back - No!

He wanted his own key so that he could come and go as he pleased.
I said no.

He had come up to my door hoping that I had left it unlocked.
The red flags came up, but I ignored them.
I was in denial of the danger I was in.
I believed I could control the situation.

He would advance. I would parry. He would pry and ply me, I would dodge and counter.  But then what started off as something consensual one night quickly escalated into him fulfilling his fantasy.

I was pinned - literally - unable to make him stop.
And wondering where did it go wrong? How did I end up here?
I was left torn, broken, defeated, humiliated and shaken.

I was angry. This was never my fantasy.
He apologised - nothing short of passive-aggressive manipulation.
This cat and mouse game was over.
I severed all my connections with him.

But for the next few days, I would sleep in the spare room.
For the next few days, I would lie to my colleagues each time I winced in pain.
For the next few months, I would silently endure moments of anxiety and panic.
For the next few months, I would slowly withdraw into myself.

It's been 23 months since he last walked through my door.
I wish I could say my healing journey is nearly over...
I wish I could say that memories of that night no longer affect me...
I wish for a lot of things...

But it can't be undone...
For now, I struggle with the rising tide of emotions as I relive that night. It gnaws at my gut.
And I struggle equally to stay in the present and to keep moving forward.

Spring,

It's been a long winter and I haven't looked forward to your arrival with this much anticipation in years. Winter looked as if it would stay, and yet, you've arrived with such grace and charm that your fashionably late entrance is all but forgiven and forgotten. Ah yes, the change is nothing short of refreshing.

Needless to say, during old man winter's visit, I took a little hiatus from this blog. The endless cold didn't help my mood or disposition. There were many things I wanted to explore, but I couldn't bring myself to the task of writing. And so I avoided it, leaving myself to muddle in the hole in my sidewalk. And yet, my time in the hole wasn't without progress. Something shifted while I stewed in my little rut. Nothing seismic, but significant just the same.  I now feel a sense of purpose. I feel lighter. I feel as if I've let something go...and that makes me immensely happy.

With the arrival of a new season, I'm welcoming a new challenge. For the past three weeks, I've been committed to spring cleaning, both literally and figuratively speaking. Carpet cleaning, laundering duvets, washing baseboards by hand, dusting each book on the bookshelf, decluttering, washing windows...it has been an exhilarating feeling. But spring has also inspired me to clean house within - to declutter the mess around my authentic self, to tackle my nemeses shame and guilt, and usher in the hope that this path will lead me to self-forgiveness.

Self-forgiveness has always seemed something unattainable - it is a word I have often used, heard others speak of, but never really understood. Friends and colleagues who knew of my journey have often asked me, "Do you love yourself?  Do you feel you are worthy of love?" and I would respond without hesitation, "No". Sure, I was and am grateful for the life I have and all the people connected to it, but I struggled to know how to feel love for my self - as a person and as a woman. The talk shows and their message of "You have to forgive and love yourself" weren't effective - they were words, but not an answer. Dating and finding a long-term relationship were equally hallow attempts to move forward, but I would end up feeling humiliated when men would say, "You have to loosen up," or "I want someone who can open up and be honest."

Even more heartbreaking was when I hurt someone I cared about and he blasted, "Why can't you love me?"

Because...I don't know why.  In part, because of fear and I don't trust myself.

But that isn't really an answer either. I know I am capable of love.  But how could I fully open up, commit, and give what I didn't understand? How does one self-forgive? I struggled to find inner peace in the pursuit of happiness. My Type A personality (Miss Fix-It) would silently scream at this faceless obstacle, which was often guarded by the imposing Shame and Guilt. But even if I did, I had no key, no element, no talisman to break through the obstacle.

I don't know what prompted me to buy the book Radical Self-Forgiveness by Colin Tipping, but this has been one of my self-help books that has sat on my coffee table collecting dust for years. Back then and up to a few months ago, I believed I would "get to it, one day." Well, I finally "got to it," and I have found the resource that provides me the perspectives and exercises to help me maneouver through this maze of self-forgiveness. To start, Tipping offers this perspective in what is required in forgiveness:

The term forgiveness implies that there has to be one who forgives as well as the one being forgiven. It requires a subject (the forgiver) and an object (the forgiven)...When we are forgiving others, that condition is met...but not so with self-forgiveness. [With self-forgiveness] The one who forgives (subject) and the one being forgiven (object) are one and the same...in acting as both the forgiver and the forgiven, we are trying to be prosecutor, judge, jury, witness and defendant all in the same case!

Ah yes, our inner court system with all the personalities that run the inner working of our mind, heart and spirit. Tipping identifies three members of our internal committee:

1. The resident judge: has the loudest voice, always says you are wrong, why you feel the weight of guilt
2. The critical parent: always scolding, withholding love as punishment, shames you, self-esteem suppressor
3. The inner lover: lives in your heart, loves you, tolerant, forgiving, compassionate, mediator

In learning about the interactions of these three sub-personalities, the words about the critical parent spoke to me the most and I realized, it was the secret that I have kept from myself for a long time:

Secret Reveal #7: I don't love myself because I withhold love as a punishment.

It's such a simple thought and perspective and yet, it held the power to shoot me out of my hole in the sidewalk like a cannonball. And I've landed on my feet. I admit, throughout much of life, I have done things to seek validation and approval from others, but I've never been able to do that for my self. This awareness has provided me unravel my past beliefs and begin remapping things with this new perspective. It's like playing a video game and I've gained a "power-up" for my healing journey. Self-forgiveness and loving my self no longer seem so daunting a challenge, but something possible and attainable.

And like the arrival of spring, the arrival of this new Self is refreshing.

"A closet is a hard conversation, and although our topics may vary tremendously, the experience of being in and coming out of a closet is universal..…you may feel so very alone, but you are not...no matter what your walls are made of...there are others peering through the keyholes of their closets looking for the next brave soul to bust a door open, so be that person and show the world that we are bigger than our closets and that a closet is no place for a person to truly live."

I like to write. I don't know if I love it. Perhaps it's more that I need to write. It's a means to sort out my thoughts and feelings - deriving perspective and clarity out of the chaos that I concoct around me. Writing started as a 3rd grade assignment, and I would write about anything and everything - I took to paper like a fish to water. Thoughts, words, expressions, descriptions, plots, character, observations - I would fill out the pages of my notebooks.

Do you have your own set of commandments that you follow?