I'm not so sure that's always the case.
About a month ago I agreed to go down to the police station for a video interview and photo lineup due to an incident that occurred a couple months prior. I was stressed out and in the middle of a major depressive episode. I found myself spiralling out of control and wasn't able to pause before I found myself tweeting amidst a full-on panic attack. I have some great pals on Twitter and they were all so supportive. I'm grateful to each one of them for reaching out, but what I did was not cool.
Clearly I was feeling desperate and ungrounded, and I have compassion for that, but was it really helpful to put that information out there? No, it really wasn't. Not for me or anyone else. The thread has been deleted, but how many people read it and were upset or triggered?
There is no shame in suffering, of course. It's unfortunately part of what connects us because it can't be avoided, but to what degree is it healthy to share our suffering with others? I don't have an answer, nor do I expect anyone else to, but it is a question worth considering.
I mean, how often do we throw words out there without thinking about how it impacts others and also ourselves? Does complaining about having a bad day actually improve your day? Just a thought. And, believe me, I am in no way putting myself above anyone else here. Clearly I do this too. I'm just trying to figure out how best to share experiences and feelings, especially on social media.
I'm sure you're well aware that I'm not with the positivity police. In fact, I can be a whiny curmudgeon who spends a lot of time watching true crime documentaries and reading terrifying and/or sad accounts of trauma. But I'm also the kind of person who finds humour in just about everything. It's what gets me through and makes tough times less difficult. Like, I can't stop laughing at the fact that the police have a video of me making jerkoff gestures. It's fucking hilarious and is probably the best thing I've taken away from the experience so far.
So I guess the point of sharing this is just to say that I want to lighten things up a bit and have more of a healthy balance. Obviously everything can't be sunshine lollipops and rainbows, but it doesn't hurt to try and even the scales. I want to focus on the things I enjoy a bit more. Lately I've struggled remembering what those things are, but it's worth taking the time to rediscover. So that's what I'll be focusing on for the next while. I've already been revisiting some of my favourite movies and shows, and I haven't read a book in a while, so I'll probably do that too. I'd also like to spend more time in nature and less time on my phone and work on reconnecting with myself and others.
That sounds like a lot. Now I'm feeling overwhelmed. Haha. I actually feel pretty good about this, and I've reached out to my counsellor so I will have her support again in a while. It's incredible how taking the first steps, no matter how small, can make a huge difference.
Speaking of...thanks so much for taking the time to read this. It may seem like a small thing, but it means a great deal to me.
Unfortunately, I won't be discussing Al, Peg, Bud and Kelly.
This is the Bundy we're talking about today. And if you're asking why we're still talking about him, that's a very good question. I suppose that Ted will always be talked about because we will always be horrified by him. But here's the reason I'm talking about him again.
I finally watched Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, because even though I wasn't jumping with excitement to see Zac Efron play the infamous serial killer like many, I was still a little curious.
Honestly, though, It doesn't take much convincing when it comes to true crime, especially when it involves serial killers, because I'm interested in criminal psychology and have always loved being creeped out. But the thing about this movie is, it's not that creepy. It's not scary, it's not provocative, and it doesn't really offer any insight. This movie isn't saying anything new and therefore really didn't need to be made.
The film is based on Ted's ex-girlfriend Liz Kloepfer's book, published under the name Elizabeth Kendall, The Phantom Prince: My Life with Ted Bundy. Having not read the book myself, I was hoping for an interesting glimpse into unfamiliar territory, but everything was pretty familiar. Plus, many disturbing details about their relationship weren't even in the film, so we're basically left with a mere snippet of the fucked up relationship. While I do feel bad for Liz and consider her to be one of Bundy's surviving victims, I really didn't care for her story, or at least the way it was told in the film. It was kind of boring.
Cue the music...
I wasn't a fan of the fun, upbeat music in this film, particularly during the more "romantic" (barf) scenes. I understand what they're trying to do by showing the fantasy of what Liz thought she had with Ted coupled with the catchy music of the time, but I wasn't into it. Plus, you can't hear Joe Tex's "I Gotcha" and not think of Reservoir Dogs. What were they thinking?!
Having said all that, the film really isn't all that terrible. There certainly were some redeeming qualities. I must give credit to Zac Efron, because he did a decent job portraying Ted. While he is obviously more attractive than Bundy, which I'm sure Ted would have loved, the characteristics were there. He didn't quite make my skin crawl the way I hoped, but I think that's more because I wasn't seeing anything new. I've seen the court scenes numerous times and have even watched the entire trial on a few occasions. Don't judge.
I also appreciate how this film isn't a sensationalized gross gore fest like 2003's Ted Bundy. God, the ending of that film still makes me cringe. "I'm Ted Bundy..." No you're not, so shut the fuck up. In fact, this film doesn't give us disturbing reenactments of the murders at all. Nice for a change. On the other hand, there is one scene in particular that I fucking hate. No spoilers, but it's at the end and is completely fabricated and unnecessary. It always irks me when filmmakers do that. Why add things in just because it looks cool or seems more disturbing? Do you really need to change anything to make Bundy more disturbing? I don't think so.
Wrong Turn (2003)
My bus took a wrong turn the other night, and so did I. At first.
YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG WAY, a passenger shouted, and the driver apologized. It was his first day on the job, so he had to call a supervisor to ask for instructions. None of us were that pissed, though I was slightly annoyed because I already missed a bus and was running behind schedule. I just wanted to be home. "Sorry, we just have to take a short detour," the driver said. That short detour was a short trip to hell.
The bus drove up the road and pulled into the hospital parking lot to turn around. We drove right past the B.C. Cancer Agency and my heart sank. It's a place that I was hoping to avoid, at least for a good while, if not forever. In fact, every time my bus passes by that area I turn my head away and stare out the window, because even though we don't go right by the building you can see Ben's old hospital room from the road. I even make a point of not looking at the bus stop where I often waited on my way home from visiting him.
As the bus pulled away from the building and we got back on track, I started thinking about why I've been steering clear of looking in that direction, and what else I've been avoiding in my life. Being cautious of repetition, I won't get into anything I've recently discussed here, but yes, some thoughts of Ben and what he went through came to mind, but some other things popped up and kind of blindsided me. Some stuff that I had convinced myself I was over, but I guess I'm not.
My mind took me back about five years to when I lost another friend, though he didn't die. He's off somewhere living his life with someone. Someone who didn't appreciate how close we were (we were once romantically involved and had become the best of friends) so he had to cut me off or lose her. I was sympathetic because I was once an insecure young woman myself, but the sympathy didn't remedy the pain.
At the time I responded in typical fashion and acted like I wasn't bothered, but of course I was. He was my best friend. He was crazy as hell, but in a good way and I adored him. I still care for him and often wonder how he's doing, but I have to move on. I haven't grieved the death of that friendship and I'm beginning to see what skipping that process has done. I've had a few run-ins with exes recently, and the fact that I feel basically attacked when they just try to say hello says a lot about how I process things and move on. I kinda don't.
I mean, yes of course I move on as in move forward and continue living, but I just kind of carry on without a care, and I think that I was able to convince myself that I actually didn't care and that's why I didn't need to spend time grieving. Oh, what an annoying lesson to learn and at a particularly difficult time in my life too. Ugh. Becoming emotionally mature is a fucking process, y'all! It kind of sucks. Pass me a joint and a caesar, please!
And that brings me to my Saturday night (last night) when I let my caesar chill in the fridge and left my weed in the nightstand. James went to a party with some friends and I stayed home, stayed sober, did some reading and writing and organized my socks. Does that sound as sad as it felt when I typed it? I'm not jealous of James' night or anything, as I truly value my alone time, but I actually felt sad and dare I say...lonely. God, that makes me cringe. I don't know why, but I have never felt comfortable admitting to that feeling before. I sincerely love being alone, too, but man did I crumble last night.
And I got to thinking about how James and I are best friends now and how he might meet someone soon, maybe even at this party, and that this someone may not take a liking to me or the connection I have with him, and maybe he will have to leave me in the dust too. It's totally possible, and I have to find a way to be ok with it. I have to know that I am enough on my own, without anyone, but also that it's ok to feel lonely and sad sometimes.
So yeah, I organized my socks! And I feel pretty productive. Also, I finished this blog post today and am now moving on to tackling other things on my list. Number 1: be kind to myself and do something that makes me smile.
I hope you guys are all doing the same.
Until next time, I leave you with some spooky socks and a song that my old pal once sang to me over the phone after waking me from a dead sleep. For that, and for many other things, I am grateful.
This might seem like a weird way to kick things off, but I wanted to begin with a little humour.
Last weekend I revisited one of my favourite comfort films, Terminator 2: Judgment Day (obviously) and I can't stop thinking about how funny this scene is and how perfect Arnold is. If I watched it alone, I probably would have kept the scene on loop for a while. In any case, this really has nothing to do with what I'm about to get into, but another scene from the film does.
A couple years ago, I woke from a horrific dream. I was in an elaborate library that looked like a ritzy art gallery. I was walking up an exquisite marble staircase. I remember feeling accomplished and content. Then I remember the heat and the screams. I turned around and there was straight up fire coming at me. It was like a nuclear bomb was engulfing the library. I took a cue from everyone else and turned to run up the stairs, but then I stopped. I guess I knew that I couldn't outrun the fire. I turned back around. I closed my eyes. And that was it. It may not sound like much, but it was absolutely terrifying. If I remember correctly, I was crying when I woke up. I thought of that dream last weekend, during Sarah Connor's apocalyptic vision. I hadn't thought about it in so long, but suddenly it all rushed back to me.
I know that dreams are mysterious, but I do believe that they hold some significance in terms of what we store in our minds. Maybe I just really love Terminator 2 (I do) and my mind was telling me to watch it? Or, maybe it was telling me to stop running from things. Side note: I just remembered that I was in a house fire when I was a kid. I totally forgot about it. It was one of those after school special don't play with matches moments and it was fucked up, actually. A little girl was lighting matches in my babysitter's basement. I don't remember much else, but I'm pretty sure a cat lost its life in that fire, which is so sad. I can't believe I never think about that anymore.
Isn't that weird, the way the mind works? So many things that we're able to tuck away, then suddenly they pop up and catch us by surprise.
I've been thinking about this lately, but more in the ways we hide our pain, cover it up and avoid actually processing it. Case in point, the house fire. That probably legitimately traumatized me. But how do we process trauma? There isn't a clearcut way that I'm aware of. I suppose talking about it is a good place to start, particularly with a therapist? Who knows. I do know that I've been on a marathon run away from some things and I'm desperate to stop. It's just harder than I thought.
I certainly have lost my way. I haven't felt like myself for quite some time now. Part of it is hormonal, which I may get into another time, and part of it is, well, I don't know. Trauma? Depression? Anxiety? I know that's all there, but it's hard to dig down and get to the bottom of it, especially when I smoke it away every night.
I've been using weed as my comfort blanket for several months now. It's been somewhat of a necessity in terms of physical pain, but has also allowed me to block the emotional pain.
At first I wasn't smoking every night, but it just kind of happened, especially around the time I was visiting Ben in the hospital a lot. It was scary, and I didn't want to feel it. I would come home, sit on the porch and have a few puffs just to calm my nerves and stop the tears from forming because that was some heavy shit. I still haven't come to terms with the fact that he's gone. His birthday was last week and it was extremely difficult. Not just because he is gone, but also because I forgot. For some reason I thought his birthday was this weekend, and I felt some shame and guilt about that.
It's also been tough to process everything and pick up the pieces because his mother is still staying at the house. She's been here since September, with other family members coming and going, but it was different before when Ben was still alive. She is staying downstairs in his suite, and I hear her constantly. Sometimes it's like I hear him and it's triggering. There are a lot of really gross feelings lingering: anger, resentment, guilt. I won't get into it all too much, but it hasn't exactly been easy having Ben's family around. I will take responsibility for some of the discomfort, because I didn't establish boundaries when they arrived. I guess I didn't anticipate that they would be staying this long, and also it felt awkward to have those uncomfortable conversations, especially given the circumstances. Those factors made it easier for them to take advantage, not necessarily intentionally, but it happened.
It's tough to get to know people during such a painful time and I've been trying to remind myself to have compassion, for myself and for everyone involved. What I've come to realize is that we are very different people who process things differently, and there has been some conflict. Conflict I really didn't foresee continuing on after his death, and I've been struggling with it quite a bit. His dad and brother are coming to stay here in about a week, and they are all expecting to leave at the end of the month. While I look forward to April and reclaiming my space, I also fear that it'll truly feel real once everything is packed up and they're gone. He will be gone, officially.
So, yeah, I've been smoking some weed. Haha. And the thing is, I don't think there's anything wrong with it, even every night if that's your thing. I just know that I've been doing it to avoid something that I must face. I have to grieve and I have to feel this pain, or I doubt I'll be able to carry on with much. I doubt I'll be able to accomplish the things I wish to achieve. I owe it to myself to allow the pain to come and allow it to pass. I don't know how long it takes, and I don't know if it ever fully goes away, but I think I want to find out.
As we enter another seasonal change, I know that it's time to make some other changes and time to take better care. It's time to work on myself some more. Time to work on setting boundaries, because I'm starting to see how a lack of doing so has made other areas of my life almost unbearable. It's time to cut back on the hormones (or stop altogether) and time to pull back the security blanket. It's time to allow myself to feel things, no matter how uncomfortable. It's time to turn around and face the fire.
And it's time to listen to some Dinosaur Jr.
Thanks for reading, friends. I hope you enjoy this video. It always makes me laugh.
A couple days ago I had a hardcore anxiety attack--the first one I've had in a very long time--and I think I know why it happened.
I had planned a self care day on Friday. My body and mind have been feeling so taxed, and I thought it would be nice to try some new methods of healing. I booked an appointment with an acupuncturist at the yoga/acupuncture clinic down the road. I've never had acupuncture, but I heard that it's helpful in terms of healing from trauma as well as great for physical pain and sinusitis (all of which I've been trying to manage). I had a terrible sleep the night before and was feeling extremely ungrounded. I really wasn't feeling up to it, but I convinced myself to go to my appointment because it was going to be good for me.
On the walk down to my appointment, I felt scared, exhausted and overwhelmed, but I kept on walking. It was going to be good for me.
Upon entering the studio, I was welcomed by two friendly women who worked there. One took my payment, then explained the process. She asked me to take off my boots and hang up my jacket, then she poured me a cup of herbal tea. She asked if I could roll my jeans up over my knees and I said no, so she gave me an on-loan pair of yoga pants. That immediately took me out of any comfort zone that I was attempting to develop, but I thought I would just go along with it, get changed and try to ground myself. As I sat in the waiting area, sipping my tea and reading the pamphlets about community acupuncture, I began to feel completely out of place.
I knew that there would be others in the room because I read about it on the website, but being there at the studio, seeing others walking around barefoot in yoga pants seeming at peace, made me realize how far from that I was. On top of that, I kept hearing OMMMMMMMMMMMMM from the room behind me, and it was freaking me out. I wish that I were in a place where those sounds and those people could help me find peace and open up to a new way of being, but I felt completely closed off.
I tried hard to focus on my breathing and to keep drinking my tea, but I began to have a coughing fit. Then I started to feel extremely anxious about my coughing and became paranoid about how others would perceive me, and how my energy was quite the opposite of relaxing and was likely disturbing others who were trying to heal and enjoy their space.
My heart was racing and I felt like I couldn't breathe. My throat was closing up. I knew then that I had to leave. My mind was fighting me every step of the way as I retreated into the bathroom and changed back into my jeans, but I knew that I had to listen to my body and keep myself safe.
As I exited the bathroom, I was met by the kind woman from the front desk who said "and here is your new patient" to another woman. I said "I'm sorry, I have to go." Both of the women were empathetic when I explained what was happening, and the acupuncturist even mentioned how acupuncture can help with all of those things. But I just wasn't ready. I thanked them for their time and said that it just wasn't going to work for me today. I felt embarrassed and ashamed. The woman offered a refund, and as it was processing she asked if it was something they said or did that made me feel uncomfortable. I felt awful. They were quite wonderful, really. It was me. I explained that I was working on processing some trauma, and how I thought this would help me on my road to recovery, but I just wasn't ready. At this point I could barely talk because I couldn't breathe. The woman was so kind and even said that she was glad I trusted my intuition.
As soon as I walked around the corner outside, I burst into tears. I put my umbrella up even though the rain had stopped and used it as a shield. I cried all the way home. Cried and hyperventilated. I stopped on a street nearby and worked on catching my breath. I paused at the free library you see in the image above. The message on the door rang true. I need time to step away from things for a while. I need to allow space to grieve and to rest. The healing will be a process, but right now I just need to sit and listen to what my body is trying to tell me.
There will come a time when stepping out of my comfort zone will be essential to my recovery and quite necessary in terms of working toward my goals, but right now is not the time. It's hard to accept that, because we often want to better things immediately and make those big changes that will launch us into a new chapter, but I need to accept where I am right now and know that the time will come when I will be able to do all that. I need to trust that I can and will accomplish the things I desire to do in good time. For the past several months, and especially in the past few weeks, I've felt a pressure to get things done that I've never felt before. An urgency. But I have to trust that I will have the time I need. That it will be ok.
I recently started reading The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel Van Der Kolk, and I think it's making me more aware of the messages my body is trying to send me. Trauma and painful emotions get stored in the body, and ignoring the signals will only make things worse. Clearly. I mean, I was literally just reading this book the night before my appointment, and still attempted to ignore the messages. But it's ok that I did. It's not as though I'm going to change overnight. It sure would be nice, though.
Two weeks ago I lost a true friend, and it feels much worse than I could have imagined. I thought I was prepared as I knew the day was growing near, but it turns out you just can't prepare for something like this.
Last August began with promise--Ben was going to be moving in to the suite downstairs at the end of the month, and we were all so excited for a new beginning and many pizza/movie nights in our future. But only days after he moved in, before the boxes were even unpacked, we received some startling news. He had been struggling with debilitating back pain for a while, and it reached a point where he knew it had to be looked at, so he took himself to the hospital. Ben had texted James late one night, saying that he was in emergency waiting to see a doctor. We were very concerned, but figured he would have a scan done and get some treatment, and everything would be ok. It wasn't like that at all.
The next morning, I woke up to a text from Ben, asking if James and I were awake and ready to take a phone call. He wanted to put us on speaker so we could all talk. I swear my heart stopped when I read the message, but I told him that we were ready, and we both sat on the couch, nervous as hell, waiting for my phone to ring. It happened almost immediately. He said that he had something to tell us, and that it was pretty heavy. He said that the doctor did a scan, and it showed that he had cancer. I must have blurted out something like OH MY GOD! James and I asked him what we were up against and he said "It's pretty bad, it's everywhere." I just bursted into tears as I typed that, probably because I tried so hard not to cry when he initially said it and now I feel like I have no reason not to cry. The three of us talked for a short while, and I promised that he would not go through this alone. I think I kept that promise.
Later that day, James and I went up to see him at the hospital. At that point, nothing seemed real. It was Ben, in a hospital bed, being hilarious as always, despite being in a tremendous amount of pain. It just felt like he was going to be ok. I think in the early goings, we didn't really know what was expected. We weren't sure what treatment options were available and if they were going to help him or not or to what degree. Over the course of the next 4 months, he tried everything. We watched him bravely face every goddamn thing that was thrown his way. He had radiation, immunotherapy, was on and off of the most potent painkillers available. We sat at his bedside while the nurses administered blood transfusions, we went for walks with him, watching him use all of his strength just to move down the hallway, or even just from one side of his room to another. He did not give up. And he did not stop being funny.
I remember sitting with his family and friends at various times at the hospital when Ben was completely out of it, and he would still look over at me and say something that made me laugh. He would still fist pound and give high fives, and still gave the best hugs. The nurses and doctors loved him because he was so genuine and funny and kind and grateful for everything, even when it would have been so easy to be angry about what was happening. Every time I walked into that hospital room, he would smile and say "HELLOOOOO!" I would often arrive after work around 8 at night, and even when he was exhausted his face would light up and he would be as present as possible so that we could visit. It was worth it to be at his side, as difficult as it was, because it was still Ben. Even when he didn't look the same, his spirit was fully visible and vibrant.
For a short while, the treatments were helping him. He suddenly had some energy and colour in his face, and even gained some weight back. At the time I did not know, but people with terminal cancer often get better before they get worse. Sometimes sudden improvement is a sign that the end is near. I say this because it might help others to know, should they ever be in a similar situation. Reality sure can suck balls, but it's better to be aware of the balls rather than just have them come at you out of nowhere. Having said that, here I sit alone in my house. A house that he spent a great deal of time in, and I feel like I was run over by a bus. My body hurts, my heart hurts. I knew that this was coming. I saw the balls, but I didn't know how big they were.
As I look around this space, I still see him everywhere. He probably sat in every single seat in this house. I picture him laying down on the ground, making friends with Beans, or sitting across from me when I've had too much to drink, offering a comforting smile. I can hear his laughter and it makes me sad. I know that one day it will make me happy, but I still haven't processed that fact that I am never going to see my dear friend again.
Two weeks ago Ben died in this house, downstairs in his suite, surrounded by his family who were there for him during the toughest of times. I remember months ago when things were getting worse, being afraid of the possibility of him dying in our house. I thought I couldn't handle it. I thought that it would be too hard, too painful. But in the end, I was so glad that he was here. That he was able to feel peace in his own home. A home that James and I set up for him, imagining that he would have some time to enjoy it. More time than he ended up having. The last time I saw Ben I didn't know it would be the last time. We said I love you to each other, as we always did, but I didn't know that it would be the last time I would say it. If I did know, I'm not sure that I would have done anything differently, which I guess isn't a bad thing. I just wish that I had more time.
The morning Ben left this world, James and I were preparing to go downstairs and visit him, but while we were getting ready, we received a message from his mom, saying that he was gone. I can't describe what I was feeling at that moment, but I know there was pain. And I cried. I wish that I had gone to see him the day before, which I thought about doing, but I just didn't know that I wouldn't have another opportunity. I couldn't have known that. You just never know.
As I sit here at the computer, I have a wonderful view of the tree in our front yard. We have a bird feeder on it. Feeding the birds, squirrels, rats, mice, and whatever creatures may come along has always meant so much to me. It meant a lot to Ben, too. In fact, one of his favourite things to do while approaching the end was to sit in bed and watch the birds eating the seed. James and Tia, our lovely neighbour who lives downstairs, set up some bird feeders in plain view so that Ben could see them each day and enjoy watching the creatures come to visit. He really loved it. In fact, that was one of the last things we talked about. We were looking out his window, watching James and Tia hang another bird feeder up, closer to the window. He told me that he loved watching the birds and the squirrels. It brought him joy. I remember sitting there with him, watching him blow kisses at James and Tia. Watching the smile on his face as Enya filled his room with beautiful relaxing music. He was content in that moment, and that made me happy.
The day he died, I sat in my room, looking out the window. I said "Ben, if you're out there, would you give me a sign?" Immediately after, a bird flew right by my window. I gasped, then cried. I know, some of you shitheads are thinking well, duh, it's pretty likely that a bird would fly by. Sure, you keep thinking what you want, but I took it as a sign. The universe showing me that, although I will never see him again in person, I will always feel his presence. I will always know that he's here. And how wonderful to associate my beautiful friend with birds and squirrels, because I see them and hear them every day. I will constantly be reminded of Ben. Lately, when I'm feeling overwhelmed with emotional and physical pain, I try to focus on the birds chirping. On being present. On being alive. Because, as cliche as it sounds, I don't know how long I have here, and it's time to start seeing things differently.
I promise that I will start living my life the way I want. I will do more things that I enjoy. I will spend more time with those I love, with people who are supportive and who bring a loving energy into my life. And, I promise to keep my distance from the people who are unsupportive and who bring a negative energy around, because I just cannot be bothered anymore. I don't care. I promise to start caring more about myself and to take better care of myself, because I deserve it. Ben would have wanted it that way. In fact, I'm going to start asking myself more, what would Ben do? What would Ben say about this? How would Ben feel about this? I want to honour his life through the way I live mine.
Now I will leave you with a message Ben sent me years ago, followed by one of his favourite songs. A song I've thought of often over the past 4 months or so, but haven't been able to listen to. Now I will listen, and remember.
You are awesome
I am proud of you
I believe in you
Knowing you gives me strength
You will find the answers you seek
You are like a force of nature
Once unleashed, you are unstoppable
Clear decisive action
Do not fear your awesome
Thank you for speaking from your heart with me
You have a profound effect when you express yourself
You are worthy
You are powerful
It is you at the centre
You are awesome
This was Ben's message to me, which he sent completely out of nowhere, but it was really his message to everyone. He was kind, he was gentle, he was generous, he was encouraging, he was grateful, and so much more. He was a wonderful friend, and I hope to carry his energy with me and share it with the world.
Hang in there, baby! Whoever you are, wherever you are.
I wasn't going to post anything this month, because it's been such a tough one, but then I decided that maybe that's exactly why I should. Because, as much as I'm a bit of a loner, I don't want to be alone. More importantly, I don't want you to be.
That's why I'm popping in for a short little post. To let you know that you're not alone in this. Whatever you are going through, I'm right there with you (creepy). Even when I'm not available as much, please know, dear friends, that you are in my thoughts and in my heart (barf).
There are times when I've wanted to reach out, but felt like I had nothing to give. No energy, no love, no light. And that was probably true on occasion. But I know that that stuff doesn't go away forever. Tough times don't destroy the person you are. They might cause you to disappear for awhile, which is perfectly ok, but it's important to know that everything and everyone will still be there when you're ready to emerge. That's all I've got for now. I know it's not much, and it's super cheesy, which is to be expected, but I just needed to say it.
Please remember to be kind, gentle and caring. To yourself first, always, and then to those around you.
Now I leave you with a smile and a song, and I dedicate this post to a very special friend. My good buddy, Ben, who is always kind, gentle and caring to everyone, even during the most difficult of times. Ben, you are brave and strong, and I am proud to call you my friend. Keep on truckin' ya hear?!
I know, I know.
Wow guys, it has been a loooooong time since I last posted anything on here. Shit's getting mouldy!
Some of you may be wondering where I've been or what's going on, so here's the deal. I've kind of been hiding out in a dark place. Things have been really heavy. I actually didn't realize how long my depression had a hold on me until I started writing this post and noticed when I published the last one. This may well be the longest depressive episode I've ever grappled with, and I'm still trying to figure out what brought it on, and also how I managed to survive.
The more I think about the latter, the more I feel in my heart that, once again, animals have saved my life. Don't get me wrong, I have some wonderful people in my life who have been here supporting me, making me laugh and making sure my basic needs have been met. But there have been some times when I couldn't choke back the tears, when I truly felt that I couldn't go on, and those were the times when a creature would appear. I just started crying thinking about it, because it seemed to happen right on cue, like the animal kingdom has sensed my desperation and lack of hope and have been lending a hand (or paw). It's quite remarkable, really, and I am so incredibly grateful.
Recently, I was gifted a set of Animal Spirits Knowledge Cards, and I thought it would be cool to pull out the cards that represent the animals I've been accompanied by the most during this difficult time. You might think this is cheesy, but cheesiness is a big part of my character, so I'm gonna let it rip. I actually think this stuff is fascinating, especially the First Nations symbolism, so I am listing some excerpts from the knowledge cards below, as well as my experiences with the creatures. Side note: there is no rat card, and I would have included that one if there was, because I love rodents and have seen a few rats lately, which has made me happy. I don't see rodents as often as I would like to, but when I do I squeal like a mouse and get super excited. I've had around 20 pet mice over the years and have many fond memories of them.
Butterfly: transformation, joy, lightness, rebirth. Butterflies are everywhere in the summertime, so it's not like this is such an incredible thing to see, but it's the timing that's been special. Whether I've been sitting on my front porch in tears or wandering the neighbourhood bewildered, they have fluttered into view and taken my mind to a better place.
Heron: life, feminine energy, renewal. In ancient Egypt, the heron was the first transformer of the human soul after death. It was seen in flight over the fields when the Nile began to flood and is associated with fertility and renewal of life. The blue heron is fairly common around here, as they are water birds and I live on an island, but lately I've been seeing them in flight all over the place. I'll suddenly feel prompted to look up at the sky and I will see a heron. I don't know why, but it's been a special feeling. I used to feed a blue heron and I think of him often.
Rabbit: power, abundance, heroism, seasons, cycle of life. Many Native American rabbit myths tell of the hare returning the sun to the sky and restoring warmth. Bunnies have been bouncing in and out of view often during the past few months. I usually catch them in passing, just for a second, but in that short amount of time my heart is full of warmth and joy.
Crow: renewal, transformation, magic, abundance. A First Nations legend tells of a white crow that warns the buffalo every time hunters approach, leading to his own hunger. The hunters capture the crow and throw him into a fire, but he escapes, emerging blackened by the flames. Black becomes his permanent colour. Going forward, the crow knows to focus on himself and stop warning the buffalo. There are many crows in my neighbourhood. I talk to them often, and they are not afraid to talk back. I've always thought they were a special bird, and I feel comforted seeing them when I'm on my walks.
Spider: protection, aid, wisdom. Southwest Native American peoples associate the spider with a grandmother spirit who lives underground and rises from her realm to offer advice, particularly before a dangerous undertaking. My views on these fascinating creatures have changed drastically from my mortification and disgust to intrigue and respect (I'm still scared of the big ones, though). Some of you may already know that I have a pet spider of sorts who lives in my bedroom. His name is Sweetie Petey, and we get along. We give each other space, for the most part, and I say hello and goodnight to him regularly.
Cat: independence, magic, abundance. From divinity to witchcraft, cats have symbolized just about everything, and they have always had a special place in my heart. I grew up with cats (Rebel, Priscilla and Pebbles) and currently enjoy the company of my fur baby, Beans. She jumps up on my bed when I'm feeling alone and shows me love, when she's not biting my ankles. Along with Beans, the neighbourhood cats constantly pay me visits and continue to brighten my days.
Deer: instinctual energy, independence, regeneration. Graceful, swift and elusive, the deer symbolizes nature's powers that are not easily subdued. A deer is also a symbol that summons individuals to a calling or journey. In the legend of King Arthur, a deer leads Sir Gawain into the woods to begin his adventures (shout out to all the other English majors out there). It is no secret that I adore deer. I spend a great deal of time with them, lately more so than ever. They are so majestic and gentle and I always feel at ease when I'm close to them. In times of heartache and despair they have been around and I consider them to be like family.
Ok, that was kind of a lot there, but hopefully some of you enjoyed reading about animal symbolism and how these creatures can be a powerful source of comfort when needed most. I will leave you with this image of a beautiful buck I spent time with this morning. I now know him as Jeffery, and he's a good boy.
As I work on pulling myself from the muck, I'm going to write more and post more on this blog, so hopefully you'll be hearing from me soon.
Thanks for tuning in!
It's Spring, dear readers! Things are blooming and transitioning and love is in the air! So why do I feel so fucking awkward and unsettled? I hope I'm not alone here. Actually, I hope I am because this really fucking sucks.
I'm currently in this weird state where it seems like everything's changing, yet everything stays the same. I think I may be having withdrawals from therapy. Yes, the sessions with my amazing therapist have ended as the nonprofit counselling office gives you a certain amount of sessions to help you on your way. While I am super grateful, I feel like I need more help...or do I?
Maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe I'm just too damn scared to realize that I actually have the skills to get myself through this, that I have what it takes to be ok. I can't believe that I just said that because let me tell you, my mind has been crafting another story. It's one of those boring old tales about how I'm not good enough and not strong enough and that I'm never going to be happy.
The thing is, even though I know that those nasty thoughts aren't the truth, sometimes it's almost easier to give up and just accept what's being said. At least it's something I'm used to. Change is hard. It's awkward and uncomfortable and scary as all hell, but it's necessary. I know this and yet I still want to hang the towel at the end of the hockey stick (shoutout to Roger Neilson, RIP).
But here's the thing about that towel. It became a major inspiration. I'm sure many of you know the story about Roger, then Canucks' head coach, hanging a white towel at the end of a stick to symbolize a surrender to the refs for the lopsided officiating, and the Canucks fans showing up to the next game waving white towels (yes, that's where it all began, but of course the terrible towel came first #Steelers). Long story short, the Canucks won that series against the Blackhawks and ended up reaching their first Stanley Cup Final. Sure, they got swept by the Islanders, but who's keeping score? The point is, surrender doesn't have to be a bad thing.
A statue of the late great Roger Neilson outside Roger's Arena in Vancouver
I was just getting emotional about the Canucks, then noticed Ryan Kesler's face on the flag in the image above. Haha. Bye, bitch! Anyway, back to the Canucks. There's a reason why they come to mind as I write this blog post. Earlier this month, Daniel and Henrik Sedin retired and it has me all broken up inside. I was upset when I heard the news, no question, but watching their final game was gutting. I fucking bawled. Like, ugly cried through the entire game. Snotted everywhere. I sobbed. I felt like a kid. A kid whose cat just died, and everyone is talking about how wonderful the cat was, but I'm like, COME BACK, KITTY!!!
Look at these goofy kids! I remember the day they were drafted so well. It was such a cool moment. The Sedins ended up being the best players we've ever had. I'm crying. I can't help it. I just keep crying. It's just so hard to accept but I have to accept it. I chatted with a friend and fellow Canucks fan about it, and he agreed that it was like watching a part of ourselves disintegrate before our eyes. It was quite painful, really. But it needed to happen. Watching that game and shedding those tears was like therapy in a sense. I was fully engaged with my emotions and wasn't trying to hold anything back. All of my feelings were flooding out. My fears, my heartache, my memories were running down my face with my mascara.
The Sedins' retirement was a stark reminder of the fact that things cannot stay the same. Life is fluid and we have to keep moving. People get older and their needs change as they go through the different stages of their lives, and then they die. We die. I swear I won't be so morbid in my next post. Actually, I probably will. Anyway, the day before the Sedins' last game, my friend's four year old daughter turned to me and said "Kenna, do you know that when you get really old you die?" I told her that I did know and that it's a good thing we're not really old, because that means we probably won't die anytime soon. But what I didn't tell her is that sometimes I feel really old. Like, old enough to die. But I think that's probably because I am just so run down and exhausted from fighting.
See, I'm going through a major period of transition in my life and I'm kinda stumbling around with a clunky heaviness as the whole process seems so unnatural. I feel actual physical pain from the whole thing, and I keep getting sick. I'm starting to realize something, though. Maybe these physical symptoms are rooted in my mental struggles. What if I just let go? What happens when you give in and just let whatever is be? What if I were to stop struggling altogether and surrender? That's a lot of what ifs, but maybe there's something there. Also, perhaps if we start being gentle and kind to ourselves and just let our feelings be--dare to sit with them for a while--we will begin to understand ourselves more. Maybe even love ourselves. Maybe if I treated myself with the tenderness and compassion of an inch worm on my fingernail I'd be better off.
Alright, things are getting corny over here, folks. But what if I'm right? What if I just sat here and cried a while longer? What would be the harm in that? I don't have plans tonight, anyway.
I wish you'd come back to me and sit by my side
We'd laugh and we'd play again, if only you'll try
I'm sure most of you are aware of the fact that I spend a great deal of time in cemeteries. I've always enjoyed walking around, reading books, writing in my journal and listening to music while on a cemetery bench. Or sometimes I just stroll in silence or sit and stare, often at nothing in particular. It's nice.
I am lucky enough to live about a five minute walk from one of Canada's oldest Victorian cemeteries, that happens to be right across from the ocean. Recently, I've decided to step up my cemetery game by going for a walk through Ross Bay every morning before work. It's a good way to ground myself before the work day begins, and also get some exercise. There's something about breathing in the fresh salty air while being within the grounds that makes me feel relaxed. And on those days when I'm feeling particularly alone, I always seem to discover that I'm not.
I never stop being amazed by the fact that, not only do birds, squirrels and raccoons take up residence in this wonderful place, but there's a family of deer that frequent this spot. Sometimes I'll see them eating or wandering, or resting under a tree, and on a couple occasions I've seen a doe feeding a fawn. It's quite magical, really. I swear that every time I stroll through Ross Bay I stumble upon something that fills my heart with joy. Something that keeps me going.
I used to mostly stick to the paths and walkways, but now I often find myself walking right through the graves. Not just between them, but right on them. Sometimes I stand on top and let my my feet sink in, and if the ground isn't wet, I'll sit down. For me, it's a means of getting closer. Getting to know the people who are buried here. I'm starting to learn their names and taking the time to read the inscriptions on their tombstones and plaques. My goal this year is to memorize the names of the people who rest in Ross Bay by spending time at each grave. I'm sure I could just look at a map and figure out where everyone is, but I would rather be more hands-on in my approach. I will certainly have to do some research as many of the inscriptions have not stood the test of time, but I look forward to it. It's a fun project to take on. One that means a lot to me.
Here is a snapshot from a morning in Ross Bay. Trees and shrubs used to line the edges so you couldn't see the ocean like this. I used to think that I would hate it if they were removed, but it turns out that I really like it. That seems strangely symbolic to me right now, removing what's blocking the way in order to see clearly. Alright, alright, I'll stop. Here's some King Diamond. Now go get some fresh air.
I'm finally doing it--pulling my insides out and splattering them around for all to see. Here we go!