Monday Musings-hiding in plain sight

Life has a way of catching up on you without you realizing. Whether you’ve been eating unhealthy, sleep deprived, or skipping out on daily workouts. All the above has happened to me I’ve been dealing with death, disillusionment, and deadlines. It started out as a way to protect my heart, my family, and just not wanting to deal with the sadness of it all. 
I found it difficult to concentrate on anything so I just kept putting my head down and plowing through life. The late night spent reading, researching, and staring at the moon and asking for answers to life’s mysteries has taken their toll. I had to take a backseat as I felt like my emotions were in the drivers seat. I had to share more than I wanted as I walked away from my business, ignored emails, and my accountability fitness group. I protected myself and put my attention  into my family and my passion and dedication to my theatre group. 

This hasn’t been the first time I put my grief on hold. There’s many times when the pain I felt as an emotional reaction and the empathic aftermath of the grief of others has sent me into a tailspin. You wouldn’t know it to look at me. I got up and got my kids off to school, folding my ever flowing laundry baskets, and made my daily phone calls to family and friends to inform them of the sad news. I had to cut of communication with a family member who’s need for greed was too much for me to bear. Yet I continued to pray that their heart and mind would change. Death doesn’t always bring out the best in people. It’s a rude awakening to see it happening right before my eyes and being powerless to change it. 
Every night for eight shows you’d seen me bright and shining on stage with my cast of our pantomime play. I only told three people how I was really feeling and then dry my tears and put my makeup on and carry on. We had boisterous sold out crowds and small appreciative ones who’s interaction with the pantomime play was as entertaining as the acting itself. 
On our final show I was backstage at intermission and everyone was running around signing each other’s programs and making efforts to keep in touch and it struck me like a thunderbolt, that this was my lifeline. These people, the script, costumes, heart to to heart chats whispering back and forth were my way of divinely grieving. I was honouring my loved one by continuing to live! I had dove headfirst into something that gave me a chance to escape and in the process I was healing my heart. I didn’t realize it until I looked around the room and saw those smiling beautiful faces. It thrilled me to have this ephiphany and I wrote something quickly in my notes so I could cherish this moment for always. Today I share it with you and I hope my words bring you some inspiration about finding your passion in life. Thank you never seems like enough to say so to exude those feelings of gratitude is even more special to me. 
  

  
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Today I link up with #Mondaymusings hosted by Richa Singh and Vidya Sury thank you for having me in your linkup today. 

Sadness

I’m so relieved I got through this day. I had two hockey games, six trips back and forth and stressful moments. I was finally home and then I went for a nice walk with my sister. We talked about life, love, and memories of our Dad.

He died six years ago today and I don’t know how that time passed. It felt like it stood still for me for a long time. I hold my breath waiting to exhale and heal from this grief. One thing I know is it takes one day at a time. And with great love comes great sorrow. I wonder who I’ll be without the grief, will I even recognize myself? All I know is I keep on living and being the best me I can be. And with that knowledge I know I honour his memory and heal my heart a little more each time.

So I’m thinking of him and enjoyed a nice dinner with my lovely sister and niece, and we toasted to him and all our wonderful memories. It’s so hard just having the memories to cherish, and not the person to hold. So many days, months, and years have passed and I found myself hanging onto precious moments. As they’re all I have now, which hurts more than having to say goodbye.

I pray I don’t forget his laughter, as he had a belly laugh that started at his toes and lifted you up in love and delight. He could curse a blue streak and smile mischievously, he could whistle a tune of anything he heard on the radio and know it by ear.

He loved with a heart as vast as the ocean and would give his shirt off his back to anyone who needed it. Even if it left him naked, and cold. He loved to be helpful and kind, and it’s from him that I learned to pay it forward regardless if there was any reciprocation. He gave with every ounce of his being and still wanted to give more! He taught me what it was to be a humanitarian and see the big picture of things instead of judgement.

I love, miss, cherish, and admire the man he was and the man he was becoming. Thinking of my Dad inspired this poem. Hugs to you in heaven Dad. I know it’s a better place up there with you in it. ❤️

This has been my submission to
https://lindaghill.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/wp_20150130_009.png for her Saturday Stream of Consciousness. The prompt was the opposite emotion. I chose the opposite of happy and wrote about sadness.

Heal

There are so many parts of me that need to heal. My heart which isn’t as broken as I thought, but cracked and held together with glue and a band aid. My mind which I’ve allowed to overpower me with negative thoughts, and guilt.

My body which hasn’t been the same since my back injury so long ago brought on by grieving for my dear Dad, and saving my son from a near drowning.

My soul which when it’s my time to meet God and enter the Kingdom of heaven, that I will have absolved all my sins and righted my wrongs. I know I was put on this earth for a great reason.

I’ve spent years trying to figure that out as I was a very introspective child. I was hear to speak, sing, and write my truth. I feel this burning passion inside me to write my book of survival, to help people discover their truth, and to make a difference in the world. Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be an entertainer.

I spent countless hours writing after school, stories, songs, poems, and plays. Literature fascinated me as I could dive into my books and get lost for hours. When my parents ended their twenty-four year marriage after raising six children, and myself being the last one I felt immense guilt over it. So why should a precious, precocious, little girl of four years old feel such a trip.

I just thought if I was better they would’ve stayed together. I didn’t sleep a lot as a child, I had visions and spirit visitors that needed to be near me. It never scared me it just was natural to me. I stayed up late a lot of nights with my Mom watching black and white movies in the dark. I thought it I could just go to sleep without anyone invading my dreams then my parents would’ve had a better marriage.

I wish I didn’t lay awake at night hearing the screaming, crying, doors slamming and the sound of a body falling to the floor. But I did I heard all of it, and I never told a soul. Well a living breathing one that is, I need to heal from this childhood trauma. It wasn’t my fault that my parents marriage ended.

They had a lot of love for each other, but over the years the respect was gone. My Dad as dear as he was to me, checked out a long time ago. He was there in body but in spirit he was on another planet.

By the time he was forty-five he had six children. He told me he always wanted a big family, being the oldest of seven he didn’t know any different. And my Mom being an only child felt lonely a lot, and prayed to find someone to love and have a big family.

And so these two star crossed lovers were destined to meet, create a family, and not last. I need to heal from their love story ending. It’s what I based my whole life upon a strong relationship, effective communication, and mutual love and respect.

They had it all at one time but unfortunately it wasn’t enough. I tried so hard to be better, and for a while there I thought I was going to heal. Then my Dad moved in with his girlfriend and took on another family. I knew that was the beginning of the end for me. I would not, could not accept that this was his new life.

So I fought furiously and bitterly and wrote story after story of becoming the heroine of my words. Saving everyone from the crashing and burning. I was only four years old so what could I do?

I need to heal from the pain, guilt, and suffering I’ve put myself through. It can never be too late to heal my inner child, treat her with kindness, and let her blossom with beauty and kindness and release her on gossamer wings to finally be free.

This has been my submission to http://Lindaghill.com Saturday Stream of consciousness. Please see what her beautiful brain wrote, and all the other talent that link up. Thank you for being here today. ❤️

Sparkle like the Star you Are

I’ve been talking, reading, and writing about breaking out of my comfort zone, spreading my wings and letting myself fly. I’m doing that for myself and for my children, to show them that they can do anything, and be anything they want to be. Whatever your mind can believe, you can achieve. I remember my oldest brother telling me that when I was 16 years old. I loved how those words rolled off his tongue and the feelings they created in me. I asked myself back then, is it possible if I just change my thoughts and abolish those negative tapes playing in my head I can achieve success?

I spent a lot of time thinking I wasn’t good enough. Not a intelligent math student or an gifted writer, or talented artist. I spent years living in others shadows because it was a safe, albeit sad place for me. I listened to those tapes playing in my head (before everything went digital) of a English teacher who told me my writing was trite, and wouldn’t amount to nothing but pulp to burn in a fire. He said this to me with his words dripping with disdain, in his Scottish accent. My heart was crushed because I really looked up to him and I was really angry as well. After that I started to write feverishly and I told my Mom and she wanted to march into the school and hurt him as much as he hurt me.

My beloved Mama could kill someone with kindbess or blister their ears with her words. So together as a team we worked on story after story writing songs and poems as well. She was my biggest fan, cheerleader, and main source of support. And then she got older, dementia set in, and she spent her final days there and died. A part of me died too when my beloved Mama left this world. And that belief I had in myself did too. I went into a grief recovery program as numb as I was. I knew I needed to in order to help myself and my children. I learned a lot while I was in that program, and solidified a friendship there that’s very special to me. And most importantly I started writing again. Pouring out my heart to my journal all the things I wanted to say to my Mom, God, and my family.

It felt so wonderful to have this release this safe place, I could come to when I was feeling sad. Which was a lot back then and through that self reflection I began to patch up my broken heart. I was living on little sleep, nutrition and raising my four year old son and his newborn baby brother. One journal led to another and I had my own little library. I read every grief book I could get my hands on and let the information absorb into to my fractured soul. I’ve always been a avid reader and writer at an early age, and I just started sharing my writing last year by starting this blog. I read tons of blogs, books, and articles and I thought maybe I could do that. I was trying to break through that negative blanket I wrapped myself in. Trying to silence my English teacher’s words. So the only dream I wished for was to believe in myself again. I’ve never shied away from a challenge in my life. I face it head on, even with a belly full of fear. Seeing my words this week appearing on the http://originalbunkerpunks.com website for the first time has filled me with so much pride and determination. I was an emotional mess I just cried and cried off and on all day. My husband took me out for a date night to celebrate and I could see the pride shining in his loving gaze. With that new found confidence I’ve been submitting my writing, and having a lot of positive feedback with it so I’m really happy. So I’ve been fortunate to be invited to do some guest blogging, and I’m returning the favour and opening up my blog this coming week to some guest bloggers. I appreciate all you dear readers being here and following along on my journey. I’ll still be here, I’m just going to take some time to work on my writing and start working on my book draft ideas. And most importantly I’ll be paying it forward to some amazing bloggers that I personally follow, adore, and I’m proud to call my friends. And with each story I share I heal a little more. I’ve begun to create this new normal in my life where the void has been. And with the love of my family, friends, and you my dear readers I’ll start to sparkle like the star I am. 🌟

Power

I’ve always had my own personal power that ability to feel comfortable in my skin, and to possess strength, and confidence. The worst thing I could’ve ever done was give my power away. It left me feeling so alone, used, and mistreated. People I thought were my friends, boyfriends that just were after a piece of ass, and adults I wanted to impress all had a piece of my power. Why did I give it up so freely you may ask? Well I was young, impressionable, and thought the rewards would mean more than the sacrifice. Wow was I ever wrong! I remember having a boyfriend give me the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech and I was pathetic and fell for it. Than he hooked up with my “friend” the next weekend. I’ve sat by the phone waiting for my “friends” to pick me up and been stood up. No phone call, no excuse, no apology, nothing. And when I saw them at school the following week it was like nothing ever happened. I felt like such a fool why did I let this happen to me? I knew it was going to but I tried to override my sense, and give people the benefit of the doubt. So many times I had thought it was my anxiety talking, but really that feeling of betrayal was screaming at me!!! It took me a long time to totally trust this sixth sense that has always been a part of me. I think it was my desire as a teenager to appear normal and fit in. I learned some really hard lessons and then I realized I had the ability to take back my power. All I had to do was pray for God’s guidance and listen to my intuition. So little by little I started to trust myself, and had my beloved Mom and Grams guidance when I slipped up. Today things are a lot different in my life I don’t give my power away, and I don’t give anyone the opportunity to take it either. The old me wanted to fit in so badly and be liked. Even allowing bullies to have my personal power and sabotaging any efforts when other people tried to help. The old stick and stones adage which I never believed because words do hurt. They become like jagged daggers tearing away at the heart until it’s bloodied and worthless. So the emotional scar tissue has built up, and I’ve grown stronger and self assured with these learning experiences. Healing has begun and my empathic nature has come shining through new me is happier, and secure and has discovered that the only thing worth giving away is my heart. To someone who’s deemed worthy and not just on a power trip.

*Image used with permission from the amazing http://simpleeserene.com*

This has been my Sunday confession with the awesome Ash at http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Check out her powerful post and all the other talent that links up. Thank you. ❤️

I’m thankful

I had been given a beautiful opportunity to guest blog yesterday from the wonderful Brain at http://howmybrainworks.weebly.com. Today I will share it with you. 😊
I’m feeling very thankful for her kindness and generosity as part of her Cherish the moment day. I’m thankful for the love of my family especially when I’m cranky and want to stab something with a plastic fork. 😉 I’m thankful for the friends I’ve made in each town I’ve lived in. I know I can call up any of them if I’m in need of advice, or a place to stay if I come to town. I’m grateful for my ability to pack up my family and set down roots with every job transfer my husband incurs. Most of all I’m thankful that I’m starting to love myself again. I’ve had a long journey back to myself through grief, stress, depression, and anxiety. I have grown up worrying and feeling responsible for events that happened in my life. As a young child feeling guilty over the break up of my parents marriage, it was a very confusing and difficult time as a little girl. Through time, heart to heart chats, and therapy I’ve learned I had played no part in the separation. The bullying I suffered in high school had sent me into an emotional turmoil, thinking somehow I deserved all the debilitating torment. And as I’ve grown and matured I have realized that these events in my life have shaped me into who I am today. I’m so thankful that I had a very special relationship with my beloved parents, for their time on earth. I wish I could’ve kept them here forever, yet I hold them in my heart and cherish my memories. They taught me to love, accept, and be myself with no apologies. When I look in the mirror I see my beloved Mama’s face smiling back at me. And I know I can love myself, even if I want to pull her out the mirror and hug her for one last time. I’m thankful my Dad taught me to be strong, independent, determined, and stubborn. I’ve carried those attributes into my daily life as I fight hard for what I love and believe in, never taking no for an answer. I’m so thankful that God blessed me with a wonderful man and our precious sons. My oldest who makes me laugh with his comedic talent, his excitement for technology, and his brilliant mind. I’m thankful for my youngest and how he sees the world with excitement and wonder, and his deep capacity to love everyone who crosses his path. I’m grateful that even though they suffer with sensory disorders and the anxiety associated with that, they know they are loved and cherished by their parents. I’m so thankful for finally being comfortable enough in my own skin, to share my writing in an online forum. It doesn’t matter how many letter degrees I don’t have after my name. I have a love and passion for the spoken and written word and I’m expressing that through my thoughts. I’m thankful for the blessings bestowed on me on my life journey. All the things I thought were catastrophes at the time, have taught me to be patient, brave, courageous, and forgiving. I believe there are no failures in life, just learning experiences. And as I learn and grow I see myself as a human being not a perfect replica of a Mom, wife, or sibling, or friend. I am imperfectly, creatively, authentically me, a human doing in this world. I am thankful that you popped in to read the ramblings of my mind. And for the beautiful Brain for letting me be a part of her Cherish the Moments. May you enjoy your today’s and tomorrow’s and see your circumstances as blessings towards a better, healthier, happier you.
Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers. ❤️

Dragon slayer of depression and anxiety.

I’ve lived with anxiety for most of my life. It started when I was 4 when my parents separated. I lived with my Mom and sister and had visitations with my Dad and his new family. I struggled to make sense of the situation and developed anxiety over it. I seen, heard, and was exposed to things that a young child shouldn’t have to witness. There was fighting, crying, drinking, and drugs. To cope I began climbing. I would climb out my bedroom window and climb on top of my house. I’d climb up onto my Mom’s piano or the porch of our home. You could find me climbing trees, buildings, and on top of vehicles. The higher up in the air I was, the better I felt. I was a happy child, I had my Mom and Dad and a family that loved me. And I also had heartbreaking, gut wrenching, debilitating anxiety. Even back then at the young and tender age, I felt lonely in a crowded room. In my elementary school years I did my best to cope and hide my anxiety. I’d be out on the playground climbing the highest structure, while the teachers would be trying to convince to come down. I made great friendships back then, but I did everything I could not to show my fears. Even in my teenage years I knew something wasn’t quite right with me and my view point on life. So I did what every other teenager did and went into therapy. I discovered things about myself that encouraged, and yes even scared me. I didn’t like large crowds so I tended to avoid that. As it was one of my triggers for running away. When I got older I survived being bullied and skipping out of school to avoid the mob mentality. I even had a teacher side with my bully, when he’d come up with a particular insult for me. In turn I threatened that teacher, that I’d get them fired if he didn’t deal with the situation. I got into fist fights and ended up in the principals office. I had been suspended and then my Mom chose to withdraw me from my nightmare. My high school years brought me to a new school. And finally I could escape the constant pain and harassment. I was glad to leave that school behind but the memories followed me and haunted me. I had a great existence in that new school. And yet I was still struggling with the depression I was in for a year. I went through the motions in life and turned to alcohol and late night partying. The stress of high school life proved to be too much for me to handle. So I found drinking as a way to cope. Plus no one knew I was anxious when I was life of the party. I could dance, sing, and do anything when I had liquid courage. My bully ended up attending the same school the following year. At first the fear of having to endure all the embarrassment and humiliation all over again, came back to me in waves. And I’d have panic attacks and frighten my poor Mom and Grandparents. A strange thing happened though I made a lot of friends and my bully never even talked to me. I’d talk to my Mom and Gram about it and they’d say he’s a small fish in a big pond. And due to my popularity I had become the whale in that ocean. In my senior years I moved to a large city and attended yet another new school. I needed to stop my partying and buckle down and take school seriously. So I chose to move in with my older sibling and his family. I lasted a year there as my depression took me into a funk that was hard to shake. I was 16 years old and I was too young to feel this sad and homesick. I dated a few guys and made some friends but I always felt like I was living some lie. What would everyone think of me if they knew what thoughts were running through my head. I never did try to self harm with cutting, I wasn’t numb from the pain. My problem was I felt it so deeply that I cried every single day. I decided to come back home for my graduation year to be with my friends. I got a second chance to make things right with my family so I took it. There was trial and tribulations as well as I went back and forth between my parents and Grandparents homes. And I ended up with my boyfriend (now husband) and he protected from life’s cruel storms. He loved me, and loving him gave me a break from my constant anxiety. I graduated and went to college and we moved into together. We started a new life in a new town which led to marriage and our amazing sons. I have to laugh though, because my first instinct was to climb when I was in labor with them! The more things change, the more they stay the same. I have survived Postpartum depression twice and the deaths of my Grandparents, parents, and step sister. I have struggled with depression, anxiety, and grief for many years and yet I’m still here. I have begun to take the steps to look after myself. I meditate, do yoga, and eat more healthy. I’m not on any medication anymore as a personal choice. And choose now to heal myself spiritually and nutritionally. I have a strong faith in God and that has carried me through the dark nights of my soul. I have a great support network and I have come to terms with the fact I’m not my past. I don’t need to go back to it because I don’t live there anymore. And most importantly I have begun to slay that dragon of depression that has taken so many years of my life, happiness, love, and self worth. If telling my story begins to open a door for communication, or help someone heal then it’s all been worth it. Keep on fighting the good fight brave and courageous souls. I know I will, because it’s not the destination that matters, it’s the journey. ❤️