~Creative Lunacy~

loveday

2010-12-27T09:28:00.004-05:00

It's my birthday today...
a time when I still embody the excited 10yr old girl
who wants the day to be all about her...

...except when you have a child of your own
then it's an ordinary day of what they need first...

...except when you were in a marriage for 7 yrs
and he lovingly still made the day about you...

...except that it's just my daughter & I now
so that 10yr is pouting and stomping and feeling a deep sadness...

So I sit and hug my 10yr old and let her know that I know it's a momentous day today because it's the day 44 yrs ago that the unique light of her spirit birthed into being. I explain to her that this is another occasion where we have to be gentle with ourself because it's the first. I bring her onto my lap, look into her pain-filled eyes and tell her that we're going to learn together to love ourselves...

...especially today...because starting right now it's our loveday.

pain's boombox

2010-11-23T12:13:00.002-05:00

Feel the fear and do it anyway.
that's how a sense of success and
self-worth are re-ignited
in the pit of despair.

Trust someone else's Trust
when your own is smothered by
doubt and hopelessness

Be gentle with yourself.
honor where you are in 'the process'
while you await the waves of pain to pass

Come out of the darkness and feel grateful
that there are beacons of light holding vigil
until you can hold your own

I know them all, today I just don't feel them...
my heartache is louder

Wishcasting Wednesday ~ Celebrate

2010-11-18T08:39:00.014-05:00

pulling away the debris
of self-doubt
fear & hopelessness
to discover
inextinguishable embers of
tenacity... courage...joy

Gratitude fuels my inner-fire to
fertilize and grow myself...
again

ode to grief

2010-11-07T16:42:00.008-05:00

Grief is grief.
It's a hurt deep within us
that suffocates our breath and grips our hearts
with searing pain...

I didn't loose anyone to death,
Yet I am mourning something that was taken away from me
with swift cruelty and agonizing betrayl of trust

Feels like death to me...

So please don't say it's okay, lots of other people go through this
don't tell me that I'm better off
or there's plenty of fish in the sea

Don't tell me that I shouldn't be missing what I lost
I have memories that tell me, despite the end,
the beginning and middle are worth crying over

I'm grieving what was and what is
I'm grieving her loss of family and daddy-time
I'm grieving through anger and pain
that's also washing over her face too

I'll grieve as long as I need to without feeling ashamed or judged...
So will she.

And when we want to talk about it, or stomp or bang because
we're too mad to use our words or too full of sorrow
hold a quiet and tender place for us to come back to
in your arms and in your heart

We need friends who know how to be friends
now, next month & possibly in three years...
and so does our grief.

*Inspired by Terri's post

re-remembering

2010-11-01T16:40:00.005-04:00

I'm trying to figure out my worth.
I know I have one...it's here
somewhere inside the darkness, hanging on a hook
with my confidence & power.

You see, I moved into a black cavernous abyss
and have grown quite small...not intentionally
it just happened when the pain became too much
and the lies numerous and the betrayl a knife
that cut into every moment of the day.

i look at my daughter and I wonder what am i to her?
if i could ask her my value to her 5 yr old heart, what would she answer?
the friends that i lean on more these past few months
if i could ask them what do i bring to their days anymore, what would they say?
and my aging parents, i wonder if it feels like taking care of a child again
if i could ask them what is it they see in me that is their daughter what woud they say?

and i know that this questioning is because someone i trusted
with my precious, tender self showed me his worth for me
by trampling over it instead of handing it back to me with respect.

i don't ask and so i don't know their answers and i don't know my own
but I remember being tenacious and strong
I remember having my own sense of personal value and worth
and that I matter...
it's just going to take crawling out of this gaping crack to take it back

post edit: I wrote this a couple of days back while I snuggled into my daughter during the night. I cried into her hair, hoping that by feeling her close, I would feel the answers. I didn't that night, and I still don't...but I'm fighting for them, and that's have the battle.

handle with gentleness

2010-10-28T11:22:00.006-04:00

the man who's hands once held me, and then pushed me into the blackend burnt soil of our forest fire
handed me a yellow package today
handle with care, first class mail...i knew the place of love it came from
the irony being that the messenger of pain had delivered it.

it's a book full of the deep knowing of loss and darkness
it's a gift of gentleness from deep south to up north
from one woman to another to me...an unsure soul trying to find my footing again

we sit here, my friend and i crying stirred by her prose...experiences of suffering bring us together past through black ink
some i can't hear right now, they are too bright for my dark heart
some force open my cracks and gently sooth the pain away with loving kindness

one woman's words can move another's pain just enough to know that it's going to be okay

survival and triumph squash the fear. knowing i am not alone fosters hope.

good stuff we keep saying as we turn the pages...my heart soaks up the ones near the end

i know my end is somewhere out there

one day i will meet Sorrow face to face and and thank her for the grace of her love over the ether and through the canadian post. And Terri...well we already met in the dark.

I am Mamma Bear, hear me roar

2010-09-20T12:49:00.003-04:00

I stare at my proverbial glass everyday...and depending on the day, I get my answer.

These days I spend more upright in seeing a future develop then hunched over with the burden of pain & grief. 3 weeks now my daughter & I have lived in our new home with our two friends, 5 cats and one Rose, the male beta fish. 3 weeks of cuddled-down chats awash in pink light from her flowered lamp camped in between the computer and the TV. 3 weeks of feeling like a single parent, the sudden shock of it all, and the realization that, while this isn't how I wanted my life, this is how it is.

I focus on my blessings to get me through the bad times. And when I can't do that for myself, I do it for my daughter.

I am Mama Bear now...

the bullshit we tell oursleves

2010-08-01T19:33:00.013-04:00

The height of my anger matches the depths of my pain and sadness.

I said this to him yesterday, one of many phrases I have used to indicate to him that he is not seeing what he's doing. "How can he?" my friends corrects, "He's drunk on his addiction!" She is his addiction, the cunt for all his passions and exclamations and discoveries and ecstasy.

His delusions include though...still...US. It makes me shake my head in amazement that he still believes that there is an opportunity for the soot of our relationship to be clued together through therapy and hope. He denies that there are any consequences of the still existing affair, that "I'm trying to extricate myself from it", "I'm working on it..." are hollow words loaded with false promises and stall tactics.

...he's bullshitting me again...

...and I've kept listening because I deluded myself that some thing, ONE thing he'd say would be enough to finally sooth away what's he's caused...

...I'm bullshitting msyelf....again...

Then I look to my 5yr old daughter and I realize that I don't want her to grow up knowing anything less than what's she's known in the last few years...her mom and dad loving her, loving each other and tackling life's challenges in our togetherness...

...and I realize that this now has to change...that her and I will form the togetherness, that he can choose to stand alone or with someone else to face his demons of infidelity sobriety (or not)...

...but not us, not her, people whom he says he loves while he cuts us down with his disregard for the truth and moral respect our relationship deserves.

And, that, finally is not bullshit...it's the bare, raw and saving truth.

Please Goddess, let me finally find peace and re-remember that I am worthy of pure love.

the moment of choice

2010-06-04T08:25:00.008-04:00

To my friends that have come and are cheering me on either by commenting or not commenting:

I am surviving...or not, in any given moment of my life these days. In one moment I see something that I haven't seen before...a space for the miracle of forgiveness and compassion to scream through my pain.

In the next, the betrayal and deceit still mock me just when I think I may turn the corner from them for good.

Worry not though, from the grace of an unseen (but not unfelt) Source, I am still standing. Tenacity runs strong through my veins (thank you Goddess and Mom and Sorrow) and in the moment that I feel like I want to plunge into darkness, I stay afloat. I don't know how, I just do.

I am aware, constantly, that each moment is a chance to simply see. The euphonism for it is AFGO (another fucking growth opportunity). "Take it or leave it, WRO." I hear Her say, and each moment then becomes a choice.

Our lives never stop being about the choice to see moments for what they really are. While I want the rollercoaster to stop (NOW!), I always want to have a choice.

I never want it taken away from me again. Ever.

Love is a verb

2010-05-19T07:38:00.005-04:00

I knew this was coming...I could feel it, the voices of changing winds close by.

This wasn't going to be a seasonal re-birth like spring, it felt more of a permanent, no-going-back-to-your-old-self death.

I should have felt the threat too. And yet, I did feel it. I knew that something was not quite right...I felt unsettled and saw things that I thought weren't actually there...but they were. I was drawn into the rythm of my life and denied my Inner voice warning me to pay attention to the secrets and lies forming around me. If ever there was a time to listen to Her, this would be it.

The destructive event (of which I've yet to come up with a term comfortable enough for me to utter) has been likened by one of my good friends as a "forest fire" ~ the burning away of the existing to make room for the new. That perspective feels right...but oh the fucking pain while my world burned to the ground. I raged in anger at the smithereens of my life. I didn't ask "Why me?" but instead "How could you? How did we get here? Where do we go?"

I watched the devistation obliterate my life in a flash, and in the days that followed while engulfed in grief and disbelief, I saw that this could be an opportunity too, a new beginning if I let there be one...an emergence of something unknown, fertilized by blackend and familiar soil.

Love is a verb, she wrote on the rock and placed it in our garden...our community garden that has become about healing and growing and triumphanting over betrayal, chaos and fear.

freedom from fear

2010-03-04T08:56:00.013-05:00

my heart cracked open some months ago, i didn't even realize she was closed.
i lie on bolsters and blocks in a gentle encouraging way, breathing, urging...fearing (oh the fear)
the rawness of what's inside peeks around the corner of the crack
wondering what it feels like...out there...

still breathing, still sighing...still reading, sometimes writing....
still thinking, sometimes feeling stillness...

I don't know where I am most days...
but I feel more connected and aware than I ever have
but, oh the fear...

wisdom on my mat

2010-02-17T06:38:00.011-05:00

"what is my true heart's desire?"

That was the question we were prompted to ask ourselves last night in Tara's meditation class. But I couldn't stay connected long enough to my heart to see anything beyond colors, a question we were asked previously. I was distracted by the discomfort in my back from sitting upright, dudes downstairs in the bar cheering on Canada through a 52inch tv screen, and just the need to get back to my mug of chamomile tea nearby.

Instead of sitting in frustration and dissappointment with myself, I simply held the image of my heart and it's colors, envisioning instead, how it would look painted on my dreamboard...and if it's message would be revealed then. Anticipation can be joy itself.

This is the third meditation class I've participated in, and I'm always reminded by Tara's gentle, nurturing voice that this isn't about how long I stay in the "watching-my-thoughts-go-by-instead-of-being-engaged-by-them-hoping-for-nirvana" state, but rather, when I do feel glimpses of that connectedness, what is revealed...

As I've sat on my mat during these past few months, and especially during our latest 30-day challenge, I'm constantly reminded by our teachers, and yes, now even my own inner teacher, that judging myself about what I'm not achieving is blinding me from what I am ~ acceptance of what is, letting go of what isn't, and knowing that that all might change tomorrow, next week, or even in my next breath.

open mike for my heart

2010-02-10T08:31:00.008-05:00

I want to write about yoga, or more specifically, my yoga....

I want to write the most accurate words that capture what this particular modality of "exercise" does for me.

So I search within my heart, and I scramble through my brain, and I seek out other blog neighbors that write about it, and I even ('cause I roll this way), look up the definition...

yoga: [yoh-guh]
–noun 1. a school of Hindu philosophy advocating and prescribing a course of physical and mental disciplines for attaining liberation from the material world and union of the self with the Supreme Being or ultimate principle.
2. any of the methods or disciplines prescribed, esp. a series of postures and breathing exercises practiced to achieve control of the body and mind, tranquillity, etc.
3. union of the self with the Supreme Being or ultimate principle.

...and none of these are what MY practice is quite about.

Ten years ago, when I bing-practised yoga, it was for how it would make my body look (sleek and slightly muscular), it was a passive way for me to "get healthy", and it was the thing to do living in downtown Toronto. Six months ago, when I started up again, my reasons had changed. I came to my mat to get away from the stressors in my life, to disconnect from the world and my place in it, to escape into something that was just solely mine. It was a safe, quiet place that could help me become invisible for a short time until I had to face the world again an hour later.

And while I felt relaxed in a quiet place within myself during the sessions, stepping back into my reality quiet often scared the crap outta me, and I found myself back in the same anxious mental state I was before my practise.

During the first couple of months of my practise, I emoted quite a bit on my mat. My towel soaked up more than my sweat, and often, child's pose lent me the privacy I needed to let all the pain release through my tears. Apparently this happens...it's not uncommon to feel a cracking of our hearts as they are gently opened with the postures and held tenderly to allow for release of trauma.

Today, my practise is the blending of both of my beliefs of what yoga has shown me. I know that the physical benefits will happen as I practise, but I don't actively focus on this aspect anymore. And I know that my practise helps me to react more positively to my outside stressors, but I don't use it to hide anymore, and I don't go to my mat dreading the moment I have to get off, because...well, I'm beginning to live my practise off my mat. I'm becoming more quiet within myself, and that means more quiet outwardly too. I don't freak out as much as I used to during any chaos of my day. I'm better able to explain my anger, or frustration instead of venting it to my loved ones, and...this is huge...I've become more compassionate and empathetic. During my insomniac moments (which translates into quiet moments), I find I have insights into what others might be feeling or experiencing. I can put myself into another's shoes and feel life through their heart. These "Aha!" moments are unique and magnificent, and as a healer, this insight adds depth to my ability to help people heal themselves.

I don't see any of this defined through dictionary.com, and I don't remember being told ten years ago that this is what yoga can do. But now I get it, I realize that yoga is unique for everyone. We may share similar reasons why we are hooked (because most yogis are hands-down hooked), but we all have different reasons why we stay.

I've just joined my stuido's 30 Day Challenge, and I'm excited to see what will continue to be revealed to me from my heart during the next few weeks of living yoga on and off my mat. It's my heart that leading me this time...and she apparently has profound things to say...

cloth vs. paper napkins ~ Tree Huggin' Tuesday

2010-01-27T07:04:00.004-05:00

I have a dozen beautiful red cloth napkins in my hutch drawer. I have 300+ paper napkins stored under my side board. I am proud of one, ashamed of the other...

With six of us at the table (most under the age of 13), it's hard for the kids to remember to use them unless the napkins are placed under their cutlery AND they are told to keep them after they are finished eating. There's already enough to remind them of at the table...and when I'm even sick of hearing my own nagging voice, well...*sigh*...I've become defeated and succumbed to using them too.

No more thanks to Hip Mountain Mama and her Tree Huggin' Tuesday post today! She has resurrected my determination to get everyone on board, again, to using cloth napkins instead of paper! Let me emphasise my enthusiasm with more exclamation points ~ !!!!!!!!!

Six napkins washed every few days with the reds and pinks (which we have alot of being a 3 girl family) doesn't take up that much room or use that much more water in the washer that it's going to tip my water bill to an exurbanite amount. We save ourselves money and stop using trees for one more self-serving thing. Having felt unsupported in my efforts, I sent my partner the link to Hip Mama's post this morning (and linked it through my twitter account ~ hi my love!) in hopes that he'll read it and realize that the bigger picture is more important than the convenience of (stupid) paper napkins.

I am on a crusade today...to hide the paper napkins (HA!!)...and put out pretty cloth ones instead ( I like the idea of having a basket of them instead of in the hutch). If their hands are that dirty they'll either wash them, or "Oh! Look! I can use this red thing..."

Go on, make the switch, feel the softness of cloth vs paper, look for pretty colors and patterns to reflect your mood or cuisine, notice the savings on your grocery bill! It's not just for fancy schmancy dinners anymore, and somewhere, a tree is thanking you.

A Dollop more of Happy ~ Week 1

2010-01-22T14:46:00.010-05:00

I'm sitting here having just visited Jamie's new on-line book club which I'm a participant of (The Next Chapter ~ The Happy Book ~ TNCTHB). This week The GLEE circle's book is somewhere between Toronto and Alberta, on it's way to Nadia so that she can bask in it's creative prompts to add more HAPPY into her life in some way.

I'm also sitting here trying to think of all the things I purposely did this week to bring more HAPPY into my little world...and I can't for the life of me think of anything I went out of my way to do! How disappointing...how forgetful....and how enlightening! Instead of berating myself and making myself feel all shitty I'd rather focus on the positive side:

I forgot, big deal. Did I do things that made me happy this week ~ yes! Were they extraordinary and full of intention to add rainbows to my life? Noooo...but they were daily tasks that I did for me...and more ME time = HAPPY-happy, joy-JOY!

Thanks to visiting TNCTHB, I'm reminded of giving my days (or at least once a week) that extra dollop of purposeful HAPPY.

...and although this wasn't solely ME time, this snapshot of our playtime together does make me giggle...

the awesomness of rawness

2010-01-21T10:45:00.007-05:00

I've decided to incorporate more raw foods into my eating. I've been craving raw foods for the past couple of winters, but I couldn't imagine going through our frosty Canadian winters without comfy soups and chillis, so I denied what my body was it trying to tell me (yo! send in more plant ensymes!) and sufferd the consequences.

It was a silly "all or nothing" way of thinking until I read Boho Girl's blog where she shared her honest self going through a master cleanse. Something about the way she spoke about how the cleanse made her not only feel physically lighter but also emotionally, inspired me to revisit my desire for the awesomness of rawness. I didn't have to go from hot, straight to raw foods, I could introduce them slowing into my diet through side dishes...heck maybe even my family would get into it too.

Then Boho Girl wrote about a friend of hers that eats primarily raw foods (and lives part time in an RV with her family) and I popped over to Sara's site to take the next leap of my rawness journey ~ gathering recipes. I'm still going through her wonderful site, and I'm learning that it's so simple and encouraging to see how one person's lifestyle can help full my own step towards this major change. I'm barely a meat eater anymore thanks to my tummy reminding me with chronic indigestion, so it only makes sense that I explore more healthy sources through grains, vegetables, fruit and greens (kale chips anyone??).

I am feeling confident about this step for the betterment of my health...and I'm looking forward to discovering new ways to "cook" for myself and my family.

***

Most mornings we have "breakfast #2" around 10:30ish...and we've definitely gone the smoothie route during the summer months because of it's cooling affect, but today we tried one of Sara's recommendation for a variety of the chocolate kind. I love that it's sweetness comes from frozen ripe bananas and stevia. My 5yr. old daughter enyoys being recorded lately, and she wanted to give her two cents about it (and tell you about her favorite colours too). Allow the slurping to entice you...

Chocolate Smoothie Delight from WRO on Vimeo.

Chocolate Shake
Raw Food Real World by Sarma Melngailis & Matthew Kenny

3 cups frozen bananas (I used 4 whole frozen ones, slightly thawed in the microwave)
2 cups almond milk (or whatever milk you have on hand)
2 T raw carob powder or cocoa powder (adjust to taste, cocoa powder tends to have a stronger flavour than carob ~ I used 2)
1 t vanilla
1/4 cup of agave nectar or 2 packets of sugar (try not to use any refined white/brown sugar or honey)
pinch of salt
pinch of cinnamon (if you want some pep in your step)

Blend well, pour in pretty glasses, add your favorite straw and prepare to have a culinary orgasm. As you can see our family gave it 2 thumbs up! Thanks Sara for sharing...

Let the happiness in...

2010-01-15T13:56:00.009-05:00

As I did for 2009, I've chosen a word to symbolize my touchstone for 2010. It was harder this time narrowing the word...I had it down to "JOY" & "PLAYFULLNESS"....but it wasn't until I was flipping through magazines for my dream board images that I realized JOY was speaking to be heard more. Here's the top of the canvas that I plan to turn into my new header:

In keeping with the JOY theme, I've joined "The Next Chapter: The Happy Book" offered by Jamie Ridler, our guru of on-line inspirational book clubs and all around creative coach. I just received the email confirmation today that I'm 23rd out of 27 in my group (the Glee Circle), and while the suspense is going to drive me batty, I can't wait until I receive the book, it's going to be busting with all version of happiness from everyone else before me (it's a mail-around group, go check out the link for more information)! And by then I hope to have a firm grasp on how playing = joy in my life!

All these versions of JOY are very serendipitous on my journey this year...I feel my heart open more and more with it all.

In keeping with the theme, here is one of my fave musicians singing about his version of happy (listen to the song, forget the video):

Wishcasting Wednesday ~ Shine

2010-01-06T14:48:00.009-05:00

I decide whether or not to participate in Jamie's WW by how long her questions stick with me during the day or how long it takes for her question to prompt a response from my heart. Today was immediate...

"How do you wish to shine?"

I have spoken many times over the past couple of years about passing on hope to women who struggle with postpartum depression (PPD). Except for psychosis, I experienced every debilitating and real symptom of the illness. There were many, many days that I didn't know if I was going to survive it...or if I even wanted to...and what got me through were my family, friends and medical care givers and their gifts of hope through their words, their touch and their conviction that I would one day be back to my normal self. They shone like bright beacons of life and hope in the abyss of my darkness.

And that's how I wish to shine...I wish to shine HOPE for women who are suffocating in the depths of PPD so that they too know they can make it.

I'm already doing it here and there...and it makes my heart swell with gratitude for the insight into how to triumph this illness...but...I want to shine bigger and brighter and farther because I know it's needed beyond my immediate community.

Yes, I have big dreams for shinning HOPE...

Remembering your Light during the darkness

2009-12-22T09:02:00.004-05:00

Celebrating the Winter Solstice is by far my favorite holiday (next to Christmas). Yesterday for the first time I explained what we celebrate on this momentous day to my 4 1/2 yr old in terms that she could understand, while lighting all the candles for the turning hour (around noon EST). Here's a peek at what we are remembering...click to view large.

And to you dear reader, may the turning of the days remind you that the Light of the winter months now resides within you to replenish and nurture with coziness and contemplation.

Love & Peace to you, Wild Roaming One

Wishcasting Wednesday ~ Winter Wishing

2009-12-02T08:44:00.008-05:00

More than all the other seasons, Winter brings out the most of my inner child. While I love the heat of summer, hanging at the beach with my little one, watching her embrace her inner mermaid.....there's something about Winter that moves my spirit more and motivates my body to jump into the piles of snow, make forts, slide down dangerous hills and gracefully glide along the ice. I can't stand the cold...but bring on a winter wonderland any day for me!

This year though I feel ominous about the upcoming Winter. Mainly because my time horsing around outside with my daughter is cut in half as she now goes to school half days. The adventures that we would get into, our appetite for "more mommy, more!" is now curtailed by someone else's timeline...and I'm fearful that the darkness of the season will swoop in while she's gone (ok, I'm also going through a bit of 'empty nest' thingy.)

It's been on my mind, so with Jamie's prompt today of "What is your Winter wish?", I've decided to create an intention for the upcoming months:

Dear Winter,

We have been close friends for a long time. I love how you turn the greyness of the sleeping trees into white lace, and the yellow grass into a playground of fluffy marshmellowness. I'm grateful that my daughter now also adores you...and she wakes up each morning these days anticipating your arrival. She won't be around as much to play with you this year though. There's this thing called "learning" in another place called "school" that she also interested in...and well, she's going to be sharing her time between it, you, and me.

It sucks the big one.

Here's what I'm thinking though Winter...could you maybe dump lots and lots of snow this year...enough to ensure a record number of "snow days" from school? That way she'd get to stay home and we'd have all day to chillax together...and you my friend, would forever remain my hero.

Barring that (sheesh), we could just find another way to be with each other I suppose. What else are you good at? I've heard some folks say that they like to hunker down during your staycation and turn inward to reflect on what's stirring within them...something about nurturing oneself in the seasonal darkness to prepare for the light and renewed life of Spring . Sounds hokey to me...but I'm willing to give it a go if it means that I'll get through this with my sanity intact. I do have some creative projects that have been waiting to come to life when I had more time. Is that the key to our new relationship Winter...do you magically provide extra hours to do stuff for ME? Could your existence be not only about snow and hot chocolate and tobogganing, but also about an opportunity to spend more time with myself and just myself?

I'm not saying I'm interested in any of that...not at all, but so as not to hurt your feelings and end our relationship, I'll give it a go. Bring it on Winter...all your glorious quiet time and new-found hours, all your billowy flakes to brighten up my creative space with your Light, and your occasional, extra snow days.

Wishcasting Wednesday ~ Daring myself

2009-11-11T09:21:00.006-05:00

My friends didn't enjoy playing "truth or dare" with me in high school because more often than not it was easier for me to tell my truth than look ridiculous in some act of dare. Even back then, I was the strong, serious type...

So when Jamie asked us to dare something into our lives today, I knew I had to choose humour.

It's scary for me to put myself out there in a silly kinda way...what if I'm not funny and look like I'm desperate to be the centre of attention instead.
There's too much to deal with day to day that needs a serious mindset to tackle and overcome...if I don't take life seriously and do it all with focus, who will?

The need for more humour in my life has been calling me for years now...it was a toss up for my 2009 word in fact (Tenacity won), and as I notice myself sighing more through the days lately, as I notice a tightening in my chest when chaos ensues (or my perception of it), and when I can't even appreciate the beautiful & bountiful way my partner laughs through the shit anymore...well, it's time to call in the big guns...to ask Goddess and the Universe to lay it on me, baby.

Today I wish to open myself up to the dare of funniness in lieu of seriousness. Comicalness, smack me upside the head with your play-full banter and clowning, your gay-full gags and your jesting, your lightness all over my darkness. Lift me up with buckets of whimsy and buffoonery...

Go ahead, I dare you.

*

Edited: In the few minutes it took to write this...I feel lighter, I feel more open...I feel my wish already manifesting...

True of False ~ in trying to create a life of bliss

2009-11-05T08:36:00.011-05:00

One of my favorite bloggers, Christine of BlissChick has decided to challenge us readers to answer a monthly question or topic of her choice and respond to her via email with the goal of expanding the community of Bliss Embracers. In my recent decision to experience more blisses in my life, I silently agree and read on to the bottom of her post:

What is the main difficulty you have encountered in trying to craft a life of bliss? What have you tried to do about this?

We have until Nov. 23rd. to submit our response, and I've decided to work through it here on my blog, allowing a stream of subconscious writing to uncover the truths and falseness of how I approach life. It's going to get crappy I suspect, it's going to be all over the map and hell, down right confusing (it may even get grammatically incorrect) and it's not supposed to make any sense to anyone but me. However if there is anyone still reading this blog and IF anything I write resonates with you, I'd really like to know I'm not alone in my scramble to figure it out.

*

Ever visit a crystal clear pond, only to discover upon looking deeper that it's really mucky and murky near the bottom. That's what it feels like as I try to put together my coherent response.

True ~ I've submerged under the goop of my fear of achieving success.

Hold on...does bliss equal success for me?

In watching a show last night, the mom character stated that every parent wants success for their kids, and I thought, um, I don't know if I want that for my own. but of course I do...right now I celebrate her success of writing her name and learning the alphabet...but the bigger success deemed by society and the the capitalistic society we live in...no, I'd rather celebrate what brings her bliss in her adult life as I do in her childhood rather than financial success.

False ~ having money means I am bliss-full and success-full.

Why do I think like this? I've had money in the past, was I blissed out? And when I was, did success influence the hugeness of the blissness?

breaking it down ~ how do I define a bliss-full life for myself?

(I wish I had hrs and days and weeks to explore this...but like the typical parent, I'm in demand 24/7...so it's going to take time to sort this out...)

looking straight ahead...

2009-10-26T09:36:00.004-04:00

Dear blog neighbours and friends... I feel a shift within me...I feel that the glumb of the past couples of weeks has lifted enough for me to enjoy living again. It's a scary place to be; on the edge of falling down that deep abyss of depression, and I'm am humbly grateful for every ounce of love and support that was sent my way here and within my tribe. Our situation is still precarious...but today, I feel I am capable of coping with what's coming our way.

So, in honor of my recent plunge and (thank Goddess!) emergence, here's one of my favorite songs that helps me soar.

Peace from my heart to your heart,
WRO

Wishcasting Wednesday ~ YES!

2009-10-21T07:24:00.005-04:00

Jamie asks us this week to say "Yes!" to something(s) in our life...

I spent all of last week remaining in the Light of positivity and possibilities. I didn't let my thoughts or spirit go down a negative road...I kept on going with hope and support offered by those I shared our situation with, and by reading all of your comments to last week's wish of letting go. I am grateful to everything and everyone that helped me...and to my Self for tenaciously making the week.

On Monday though, I did crash, and have been crashing ever since. My body and mind is in a state of anxiety, I can't sleep a consistent 6hrs, let alone the recommended 8. I have plodded through taking care of this and that, but deep down remain in a state of hopelessness and despair even though our situation hasn't gotten any worse, but it hasn't gotten any better either.

So, today I wish to say yes! to receiving joy again. I am going to spend a couple of hours with my Inner Warrioress and ask her to help me combat this darkness I feel suffocated by. She's already whispering that by sitting in the shit with my true emotions (forever the Super mom/wife/friend you know) I can allow myself to fully expereince it, to move through it with a good cleasning cry, some mint tea, a lavender bath...and then I can experience whatever happens after the storm. I don't know what that is yet...but it already feels better than hiding the way I feel now.

Wishcasting Wednesday ~ Letting Go

2009-10-14T07:08:00.007-04:00

Before I begin to send out my wish today, I'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time to support my wishes with encouraging words and insights. I didn't know it would be like this when I started...I was just following a deep need to get it out to the Universe, and I am grateful for you all, this community and Jamie's gift of bringing us together.

"What do you wish to let go?" Jamie asks today...

My family and I are going through the most stressful time we have ever experienced, and I'm losing the faith that we will make it (even typing these words feels like tempting fate).

Yesterday, my husband, who knows where I go during a crisis (usually into a puddle of tears and fear), pleaded with me to hold it together. To support his efforts not to also freak out by not freaking out myself. To still function normally as if we're okay.

In essence, to remain positive that we will find a solution together.

And through my fear and tears (which happened anway), what I understand is if I focus on the bad stuff that is happening, then all that negativity could create a thick wall of resistance surounding our situation instead of remaining open to all possibilites...and solutions.

So although my gut is in knots and my head is spinning with worry, I slept all night (despite persistent insomnia lately), I went to my yoga class to increase my vibations upwardly (opening to more positivity) and I find myself open to little nuggets of love and support from the Universe.

Today (and from hereon forward), I wish to let go of the doubt-full what-ifs and hows and instead be open to the possible why-nots.

Wishcasting Wednesday ~ Completion

2009-10-07T08:21:00.003-04:00

What do you want to complete, Jamie asks this week...

I've a list a mile long in my head of all the things that need to get done for life to run smoother, but if I ask my heart instead...it's to complete my Holistic Health Practitioner certification.

Just the other week, I finally took all my books, remedies, oils and incomplete case studies and packed them up in a box. We needed the room in the filing cabinet (I told myself), but what came next really made me realize that I wasn't ready to finally accept that I hadn't completed my certification. I looked at that sealed box and it glared back: one more thing that you've not fully stepped up to the plate to see through. I buried myself under my bed covers, asked my husband through sobs to hide the box in the basement and I fell into darkness.

*sigh*

You see, three quarters the way through my school year, I became pregnant and as my tummy grew larger, as my energy shifted into helping my wee one blossom to life, I used that to mask my fear of now having to go out and offer my healing abilities to my community.

Six...SIX!...years later, I was still holding onto the hope that I could call the school up, let them know I wanted to complete the course and finish my practicum case studies. There's so many fears that come up when I think about making that call...the what-ifs...

...and then two weeks ago I bump into a fellow classmate I haven't seen in three years, and she's thinking about calling up the school too because she never finished either. Except she's doing it with less fear of their possible rejection and more determination to find out one way or the other.

So today... *deep breath* I'm going to find out if I can complete my certification. I don't know what they'll say...I don't know if I can even fit it into my schedule...but damn it, I've got to find out!

How you doin?

2009-10-01T13:50:00.002-04:00

Straighjacket by Madame Morissette ~ enough said.

Wishcasting Wednesday ~ Sharing

2009-09-30T11:49:00.002-04:00

This week, Jamie ask's us "what do you wish to share?"...

The first thing that pops into my mind is my experience with postpartum depression. I received a ton of support from the medical community when I was going through it, but the most helpful was from other women who had come through the other side. I needed to know their survival stories because at times I didn't think I would make it...or didn't want to even try.

So, I wish to share my journey in and out of the darkness of depression and anxiety so that other women and families going through it don't feel so alone and misunderstood. I want to share all the details of the battles and courage, the real facts that sometimes don't get spoken to obliterate any shame and guilt to make way for their healing.

School of Life 101

2009-09-12T12:13:00.005-04:00

So many changes, so many transitions, so many sleepless nights.

I've been focusing on the last month in preparing my daughter for her first year of school. Telling her all about what "school" will look like, how much fun it will be to learn more letters and numbers, and when I asked her what she was looking forward to, she said in a confident voice "meeting new friends!" She's turning out to be a social butterfly.

I've looked into her eyes and assured her that I'm proud of her bravery for trying to go to school the first day, and that it was ok to just make it into the hallway, and for putting her shoes and family picture into her cubby. I ask her if she's proud of herself, and I tell her that I love her no matter what.

It's the encouraging words for myself that are scarce. "This is going to be so good for you, you just both have to get through the first few day, or weeks, whatever it takes." Of course I can get through this too. I know that this is necessary for her sense of being, and mine as well...but I wasn't as confident in preparing myself as I was her that first day and both our tears flowed freely. But how to get through it...it's a popular topic amongst my mom-friends who are experiencing the same thing...and we've no answers, only lots of knowing nods and encouraging love for one another. My heart swells with it all...

I now get that we're both expereiencing our own rites of passage. She's venturing to a new place, an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces and routine, and she's doing it with tenacity. I have more time to do other things, for myself and others, and none of the two and half hrs include doing anything for her. It's weird, and wonderful and scary...and I feel like a toddler walking on new found limbs, intuitively following a need and desire to move in a different way, without direction, just conviction and exhilaration.

"Readiness isn't a matter of knowing what's going to happen. It's a matter of daring to find out." I read this the other night knew it was something that I've been doing all along through this particular school journey, and something that my daughter is learning as well.

courage, acknowledgement, permission and support

2009-08-01T07:15:00.012-04:00

I knew as soon as I felt I had triumphed postpartum depression (PPD), that I wanted to share my story with other women in crisis with the illness. Here I am two yrs. later and I am in full swing of offering my physical presence as support, but my "story" remains, largely, unwritten. I WANT to write it all out. I want to give women, not the glossed over version, but details of the darkness and the shafts of light that finally shattered through it. I don't care if it's poetic, I don't care if it's not something that any publisher would approve and distribute in massive quantities...I simply want it to be authentic enough to offer hope to someone else who is lost.

It's more than lack of courage that stops me though. It's the pain of re-living that time of my life, and it's the possibility that it won't make a difference, and what a waste it all will be, and I'm not a writer anyway, I'm just a...well, whatever I am, I'm not all that.

I think in the wee part of my story that I have written, I have been unable to step back from the experience so that other women and their families can step in instead. It's for their healing that I write...or at least that's what I tell myself.

Today, I read this..."the courage to tell it like it is" by Jen Lee, and I see an opportunity to just write it for me. That right now, it's not for them. Just tell it like it happened, in a saner state of mind, experience it all over again, and say adios to the pain, but not the memories.

Really...can it be that simple and still that scary?

Jen asks, "Are we solidifying idealistic expectations for the next generation that bear little resemblance to the reality they will find?" PPD may be a scary part of motherhood, but it exists for some nonetheless. And I wish that I had known the truth, the real truth before I slipped into it, so I knew better the signs to look out for. And therein lies my motivation...but still not the source of my courage.

I can see now that I have to go back into it. I'm going to need more than just tapping into my inate tenacity, I need to fortify myself in the present, so that I don't slip backwards. And maybe, just write it here and there for awhile. To fully immerse myself into that past would be harmful right now, but to offer bits feels like it could be okay.

Thank you Jen for saying that telling it like it is is not always easy... it's given me the opportunity to add...it needs to be done anyway.

* * *

From my blog "there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets through". It's temporarily closed while I write bits and pieces here...

"I don't want to be a mom anymore!" I sobbed into his consoling, non-judgemental embrace four days after our daughter was born.

What I wanted was a team of experts to stampede into my room and whisk her, and all her encroaching necessities, out of my house and life so that I could sleep for a month and then resume my life pre-pregnancy style. What happened instead was the beginning of an unimaginable two year struggle to climb out of an abyss of self-loathing and unbearable hopelessness.

Of course I was familiar with the term "post-partum depression", all the pregnancy books wrote about it and it was something my mid-wife and I briefly covered during one of our visits. I knew the symptoms, what I didn't recognize was how they felt and how they could happen to me, someone who was having a text-book pregnancy. Never mind that the word I exclaimed when I found out I was pregnant only included four letters. Never mind that I couldn't bear the thought of shopping for diapers or sleepers...and definitely never mind that throughout the nine months of supposed glowing bliss, I frequently questioned my decision to have our baby. Ambivalence was putting it mildly.

At first I thought I just had the baby blues ~ extreme fatigue, foggy brain, easy to cry etc. I should have been tipped off by the unusual symptoms such as - not liking "that baby smell" and dreading spending the day caring for my daughter. I didn't know how to gauge what was normal and what wasn't because I didn't have any other mom friends I felt I could confide in. Even while under the guidance of my mid-wife six weeks post-partum, neither one of us had a clue.

I don't know how I faked it for two months. I suppose I thought that dread and anxiety were normal emotions associated with motherhood. At least daily I looked out our front window, watching people drive by, and thinking how so very lucky they were to not be stuck in the house with an infant, how fortunate they were to be free.

One particular day while out walking with a couple of fellow moms, one of them exclaimed with pride that, despite the fatigue and uncertainty of this new role, we loved our jobs! I thought about how effortless it sounded, how she smiled with assurance and that I would have choked on those words if I had to say them. I didn't love my job! Yes, there were moments that I was able to appreciate my role, but I was basically going through the motions of feeding, holding and playing with her. I could say with the same assurance that I hated my job! I'm not sure which was more crippling - my shame at admitting this, or keeping it a secret from everyone else.

After putting my daughter down for a nap one day (I vividly remember it was a Friday), I lay down myself, sighing with relief that I was not going to have to fake it at least for anther hour, when not 10 minutes later I woke with a start. Every nerve in my body was frozen with tension and my mind wouldn't stop racing with thoughts that I didn't want this role anymore...I didn't love my job! I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other, just far enough to walk into Tom's home office and ask what a nervous breakdown felt like, because surely I was having one. I was terrified, I didn't know what was happening to my body and I felt as if I'd lost control of my mind. I knew that I couldn't keep it all inside me anymore, someone had to know, someone had to do something about it and someone had to take it (whatever it was) away, now!

Twenty-four hours later I was officially diagnosed with PPD and harboring a bottle of anti-depressants in my purse. I finally knew I was sick...I knew that I was desperate enough to take the medication and I even reconciled, although barely, that I would have to give up breastfeeding my daughter for my own betterment. But what happens next? Take the drugs and hope for the best? Stay hidden under my bedclothes until my daughter turns eighteen and moves out?? Was I going to spend the rest of my life denying that I was her mother?? What about my vision of being the perfect "earth mother"? How was I going to live up to society's expectations, let alone my own.

I would answer these excruciating questions over many months of counseling and under the supervision of expert hospital staff. I would learn that my own shame of feeling everything that was completely opposite to a loving mother was minimal compared to society's stamp of shame on this and all other mental illnesses. I would finally know my own "rock bottom"...and I would learn to climb out of it with the help of everyone else's faith but my own.

* * *

I went back just now and re-read the comments left by those acknowledging my courage to write this. And so I'm changing the title to this post to add "support", because their words lifted me, just as I want to lift others.

Who says?

2009-06-29T21:03:00.005-04:00

With the many changes that are occurring in regards to my role within my family and community, inevitably the gremlins are bombarding me again.

I sat listening to their many voices today for 15 minutes while driving home. It was like being ambushed in a dark room by unknown faces, but familiar voices. I tried to argue with them, I tried to reason with them...I even sought out the perfect song on the radio to drown them out.

And you know what finally worked? Tenacious whispers above all their berating cacophony: "Who says ya gotta listen to them?" "Who says that what they are saying is the truth?" "Who says that just because they're trying to sabotage your transformation, they'll succeed?!" "WHO SAYS??!!"

It was clear that the part of me that usually abandons ship before it may sink was not giving up this time. It was clear that the current dreams I was working so hard to realize were louder than I knew. It was clear that the door was jammed open instead of nailed shut.

And suddenly, the anxiety and oppression I was feeling, quickly evaporated. I was able to rationalize with my thoughts...and all of a sudden I was taking ownership of the gremlins, rather than feeling I was being controlled by them. What they were warning me about was taking on too much too soon. While my enthusiasm is all fine and well, realistically I couldn't ignore that I'm still healing emotionally from my depression. Right now, just putting all my ducks in a row is exhausting, albeit exhilarating. I can't ignore that and if I push myself beyond my capacity, I will risk my own mentally health and not be good to anyone, most of all my family.

So I've made peace with my gremlins for now. I know their heart is in the right place, even if they can't keep their mouths shut.

I'm not quite sure who keeps handing me these nuggets of wisdom. That's not true, I do know...She's Wise and Loud and Sure of Herself and where She's going...about damn time too.

Wreck This Journal ~ KABLOOEY

2009-06-08T20:16:00.007-04:00

The Next Chapter: An on-line book blogging club ~ Wreck This Journal

A while back, when I first purchased this book, I lay in bed one night skimming the book and gasping at all the unthinkable things we were requested to do. My partner laughed beside me, clearly I wasn't thinking outside the box or recklessly enough at that moment. Thank god for Jamie's support...this wasn't going to be an easy ride.

Since then however, I have completely embraced the idea of "going along" with Keri's suggestions while keeping my shock and repulsion hidden. Wouldn't you know it though, the first page that I randomly crack it open to, I am instructed to give the page to someone else and have them do something destructive to it. I was warned, "Don't look."

He took three painstakingly slow days to plan his destruction. And on the fateful night, he asked questions like "is it okay to run the lawn mower over it?", "do you care if it smells?", all to which I cringed and gave strict instructions not to get that crazy over destroying the page. At one point, he was loudly farting in the other room (my book mysteriously absent from my view) and I yelled "you're not farting in my book, are you??!!?" Obviously I was having a problem giving over the control of being reckless with my book. And do you know what his heartless response was to every idea I nixed? He smiled a grinch-like smile (only with dimples) and laughed demonically. This was the person I was trusting with to wreck my first page of this precious and pristine page.

As instructed, I didn't watch. But I did see him creep outside with my book, camera, tripod...and a firecracker...

I am thrilled that he had so much fun. I'm grateful for his video capabilities...and I am envious that he could quite easily lived on the edge of his creativity with the book. He sets a fine example for me as I continue on my journey of pushing the boundaries of my own creative explorations.

Thank god he only blew up one page.

when wishes are heard

2009-05-21T05:40:00.000-04:00

A while back I participated in Jamie's Wishcast Wednesday. In this particular well, we tossed in our wish to change something in our life...and my own was to change my attitude with accepting help.

Most of us have challenges asking for help. It doesn't fit with our need (or ego) to do it alone, to demonstrate our physical, mental and emotional prowess to ourselves and others that we are "strong" enough. While part of that feels true at times, there's just so many other times that we're simply being too proud or stubborn to admit to ourselves that "alone" is not always possible.

My theory is that while we've all moved into single dwelling homes and independent lives from our families (vs., you know, hundred's of years ago) we've also moved away from our ability to remember that, even though we live independent of our family (and by family I mean our tribe, in whatever form that is), we are not alone in our efforts and endeavors to live fully and comepletely this particular earth walk.

And yes, I'm one of the ones who has trouble asking for help. However since becoming a mom, my time is split even more into various roles and I've gladly, if not at first reluctantly, accepted help along the way these past four years. One of my friends, whom we have regular play dates with, will often dig into the sink full of dirty dishes, or offer to chop this or that to ease the workload for me. I do the same when I'm over at her place, it's now become a common gesture of "I know that this needs done, so here, let me help."

Help has varying degrees, I've discovered. In any degree, it's valuable and a relief and appreciated. No gesture of support is too small. Lightening someone else's load is almost effortless...that it's reciprocated is priceless.

But there's a kind of support offered to us throughout our life that allows us the space and opportunity to pursue deeply important things such as our life work. Allowing people in our tribe to help means that we can begin to aspire towards what we're meant to do as a contributing being on Mother Earth.

And making that one, single wish back in March seems to have not only aligned other's selfless acts to help with my life work, but it's also offerd me a very much needed space to say "yes, I DO need help, thank you in whatever way you are offering it."

I'm discovering a sense of freedom and elation that comes with admitting that I can't pursue my life's work without help and support from others. Family, friends and a newly expanding tribe, who are nourishing me with their efforts, also know it too.

And it all began with a much needed wish to open my heart to help that was already waiting. Goddess, bless their encouraging souls. I am forever grateful...

In which ways do you make you wishes known to your tribe? How can those around you help you to help yourself? Do you value your heart's wishes enough to let them be heard...

Scared as Wreck!

2009-05-12T08:21:00.001-04:00

While I didn't abandon "12 Secrets of Highly Creative Women", I did stop writing about it here. The experience became very personal, and I fought many gremlins throughout the book (and the library who wanted their book back), but I plodded through regardless. What an amazing book! That book reinforced to me that I am indeed a creative person who needs to create like I need to breathe and eat. It also reinforced to me that I need to make time in my crazy stay-at-home-mom schedule for that creative spark to be heard. I may not get to the whole creating part per say, but if I can jot down my thoughts and visions, then my dreams and goals weren't dying in darkness. What a big revelation for me...what a relief too. For Mother's day I asked for my "creative corner" to be organized and put together (we're still unpacking from our move) and this weekend I hope to complete with my partners muscles and support.

I've taken on the next book club challenge to participate in the tasking/wrecking of "Wreck this Journal". Let me tell you, I'm scared about this one. It takes me a helluva long time to create something when I set out to do it. It's a painstaking process of the desire to create and to fight the gremlins that are shouting at me to do something useful and practical and for my family instead of just me. And now I want to join a bunch of creative crazies (no insult intended, that's my gremlins talking) and at the end of the exhausting and exhilarating book, destroy it??! *rolls my eyes towards the heavens* Goddess save me...

Apparently though, I'm still leaping...

who's my momma

2009-04-28T08:52:00.001-04:00

thank you dear ones for holding me and my family in your thoughts while we go through this passing of my grandmother...she finally crossed over on saturday afternoon. there's lots of dialogue occurring, acknowledging of hurt between my mother's siblings...acknowledging of time passed without one another's love bonded by memories and blood. it's a great thing to hear...there may be hope yet.

during all of this i have tried my best to open my heart and arms wider offering comfort and a deeper listening to those who need it. i have tried to mother many people these past few weeks so that they can land softer in their anger, or hurt, or frustration.

and, while feeling capable of doing so in the moment, afterwards, i feel my own emotions go unchecked and unravel even further...and i wonder who mothers me? i have spent days and weeks thinking about this, not coming to any conclusion, just feeling a depth of disappointment and loneliness that i haven't felt in years. tom and my family reciprocate as much as they can, but it's not quite what i need...

i have been doing lots of doings...and what i now need is to sit still and rest and not do or think or be anything other than just what i am feeling...and accept that whatever comes up, comes up to work through, to let go of so that i can feel like myself again...so that i feel capable of mothering again.

thx to brandi for this inspiration...sitting sounds like the perfect pose to relieve my exhaustion and bring me back to myself.

2009-04-24T07:58:00.001-04:00

the matriarch of my family is dying.

she leaves behind a legacy of many things (none of which i can recall right now) all overshadowed by her spitefullness. and still, on her deathbead, she continues to stir up the bullshit...

despite having not spoken to her in almost ten years, she asks for me...where am i? why am i not there? how am i and my daughter, her great-grandchild? now she wants answers? now when it's too late, now when there is no opportunity for accountability and the possibility of forgiveness? as if that would erase the abuse and hurt she, with full awareness, caused...

i grieve only for my mother and sister because they feel the pain of her passing...

metta ~ it's a hindu word meaning loving kindness...something my grandmother never taught me. she did things for me out of responsibility and duty. once upon a time, i saw her and our time together through a child's rose-colored glasses, then i grew up and learned the truth.

i think about the line of women i came from...i know almost nothing about them. i only know my own mother...who she is now, who she chose to be once she rose above through the shit. that's where the loving kindness began, in her heart, to mine and now to my daughter's.

i've no doubt that i will see my grandmother one day...when we are both enlightened souls and recognize one another for whom we truly are. until then she remains a women i would not have chosen to befriend, let alone be related to. and yet, i don't wish her the same pain she's caused as she crosses over....i hope she finally finds peace.

i keep my family in my thoughts and prayers these days...and i also pray that with the passing of my grandmother, all the ugliness will die with her, allowing three generations of perpetuated wounds to finally heal.

home is where we are

2009-04-14T09:30:00.001-04:00

My life has become about "the move" to our new digs. This Saturday it finally happened, and while we're all exhausted and living amongst boxes, we are really happy in our new home.

Our moving team kicked ass too...all of our friends worked for 8hrs straight hauling boxes up and down stairs, lugging furniture into a tightly packed truck while grandparents pitched in to take the kids for awhile. We are grateful for everyone's committment to help make this happen for us and when we are all settled in, we're going to crack open the bottle of champaign (thx neighbor!) with our team on a warm evening in our new back yard.

And through it all, in between trips to the truck, Tom and I would catch each other's eye, and smile, knowing that all this effort was going to be worth it for our family. It's said that moving is the third most stressful time in a person's life (wedding and divorce ranking #1 and 2), but those private glimpses pulled us through the day until we could sprawl onto our freshly made bed, beat up and bruised, but relieved that it was over, and that our sanity and relationship remain intact. While there's still so much to unpack and organize (and get rid of), we're here, we're happy and we're home.

Wishcasting Wednesday ~ Change

2009-03-11T13:08:00.001-04:00

I've just heard about this dreamy thing that happens over at Jamie's blog...where you throw your wish in her virtual well while being supported and offering support to other wishers. How incredible is that??

My wish ~ to change my attitude about accepting help.

I know I need help, even though I want to say no, and even though I don't think I deserve it. I will be grateful if this type of help comes along, and I will not be my own judge nor will I feel guilty.

Thank you Jamie for the opportunity to believe...

Touched by love....again

2009-01-29T15:22:00.001-05:00

I had a meltdown yesterday morning. You know the one...where nothing but a good cry will help. But first I needed to let the negativity come out...and no amount of banging around the dishes helped.

"...i just want Skippy peanut butter and i want it to be soft and sugary and i want it to spread nicely on my toast and not rip it! i'm sick of the healthy stuff and why do we always have to eat healthy crap...?"

(more whining ensues)

...and then it all disappears because the man I love...the man who loves me equally and right back and no-matter-what, who tolerates me puddling in self-pity...walks over to fridge and writes..."S.k.i.p.p.y p.e.a.n.u.t b.u.t.t.e.r." on the grocery list.

Secret #2a ~ Honoring My Honesty

2009-01-20T18:51:00.001-05:00

Dear Creative Sisters,
You have all taught me, in such a short time, that being honest here on my journey (and yours) is best. More than anything else, that is what I am holding in my heart.

My $#@% gremlins are still viving for my attention...but your words are piercing; they are protesting so voraciously because they feel threatened, and while they serve me in other times, NOT TODAY!

I haven't visited anyone else's blog...I have felt like I have had nothing to give back to you in the way of support or insight. However all of your words...all of you Love, I accept humbly and gratefully:

Into The Dawn ~ taking a step at a time...like writing all this, instead of avoiding one more day. Thank you for believing in me and support my progress!

Kavindra ~ I went and read my comment on your blog...somehow my words to you couldn't comfort me, and yet, your words...like a salve. I am a creative goddess! Thank you...

Sheila ~flicking...but with your help, thank you!

Belle ~ I like the image you've created of my gremlins shriveling up....I'm holding that firmly too, thank you!

Christine ~ I love the optimism too and "there simply is not room for giving up"...that's going up somewhere I can see it, thank you~

LisaPN ~ I have a book by two well know psychotherapists about dialoguing with our inner voices/archetypes (the name escapes me right now). It's powerful stuff...and what you've suggested is along the lines of what they suggest too in order to calm my "inner critic" (whom I've met and "seen" before) by chatting with her compassionately but firmly and establishing safe boundaries on my new journey. Thank you for the reminder. ps. long posts like yours are full of compassion, namaste!

Pen ~ you've reminded me (as I now realize all have) that I took on the intent of living 2009 with persistent determination...thank you!

You have ALL reminded me that if I continue to listen to my sabotaging gremlin, the tenacity I resurrected within myself upon the new year will disappear...and I WILL NOT LET THAT HAPPEN, NOT AGAIN!

I don't know how to say thank you...other than THANK YOU, for you, on this (delicate) creative journey...I feel more buoyant.

Still leaping,
Lil

Honoring my Inspirations ~ Secret #2

2009-01-18T15:30:00.001-05:00

sabotaging gremlin: ha! how are you going to make 15 mins. to listen for your muses a day?
me: but i can make time.
sg: no you can't! and you can't make a space for creativity to flow through you because there's no space for that anywhere, in your day, in your attitude and in your small house!
me: i'm not listening to you! this is so typical, i get enthusiastic about something and then you come along and burst my bubble. I WANT THIS DAMMIT!
sg: so what. you've wanted other things in your life; your holistic career, to help other women suffering from post-partum depression...and you've let all that slip away because you just don't have what it takes to be successful in anything.
me: i do have what it takes, you're wrong! but i get easily swayed by your brutal disregard for my dreams because...well i don't know why....but i don't want to listen to you anymore.

***
i want another voice. my inner creative self cant' get through for all my gremlin's yelling..

i want to quit...chapter 2 and i want to quit because i feel i can't make the time or space to meet the challenges laid out in this chapter. and if i can't make time for these things, at chapter 2 (!!), how the hell am i going to make time for the rest of the challenges? i've tried to be quiet...to listen... a couple of times...but nothing.
pathetic...

sg: let's just forget about it! let's go back to pushing down your "creative spark" (what a joke) and focusing on whatever else. there are alot of other people that don't get to do what they want to do, why should you be any different?

***
this time i want it to be different. this time i need it to be different. this feels like my last-chance saloon.

Acknowledging my Creative Self ~ Chapter 1

2009-01-09T16:50:00.001-05:00

"You are an original; therefore, your inspirations are original as well."

This jolted me outta my comfortable yet self-sabotaging belief of nothing-I-think-about-creating-is-that-unique-that-someone-more-creative-than-me-hasn't-already-thought-about. Hold on a freaking second. Let's say for a minute that I am unique (rinse, lather, repeat for us non-believers), it's reasonable to assume that so are my creations...is that what Gail McMeekin is saying? If that's so, than I better plaster those words just about everywhere in my home because that is the number one reason I do not pursue my creative spark.

(there I said it)

Somewhere along the way, amongst the moments of comparing myself to my fellow classmates in art class, I began to believe that any little sparks of ideas that popped into my head were not worth pursuing because someone else probably would or already has. That's a whole lotta self-doubt for a young girl. And while I'd like to go back to the exact moment that that belief soaked into my cells so that I can eradicate it, really, I'm better off just re-recording something my inner-self said to me just now:

Where has this belief gotten you? What beauty have you denied yourself and those around you because you don't think you're uniquely creative? What would need to happen so that you really see yourself as you are ~ a creative woman who's only acknowledgement that matters is your own? You don't need validation from anyone else.

Leap my love...with the tenacity that you've re-ignited this year.

Oh she's a sly cookie that Self...She knows the kind of pep talk I need to believe that I can do this. That I can, finally and fully, allow my creative soul to emerge and plant itself into the fertile soil of my accepting heart.

And my partner, when I mentioned to him that today was the first day of the creative book club, he matter-of-factly told me I was creative. That creeping self-doubt voice quivered a "Really?" as tears started to roll down my face...because if he sees it, (I haven't shared with him about my doubting gremlins), and I keep getting magical hints from the Universe that I am...well then maybe, just maybe...

...I am.

(there I said it)

What color is best to knit a safety net in?

Inspiration from the get-go

2009-01-06T15:04:00.001-05:00

Ever since I decided to join this month's creative group, I've been chomping at the bit to get started. So last night after wandering the small section of my fave bookstore, drooling at too expensive journals, my partner-in-crime and fellow drooler gifted me with this one. It says,

"That's the way it is with your dreams. They scratch at your door. You see them through the peep hole: A stray dream looking for a home. You think it might go away if you ignore it. Wrong. It's still there when you open the door, smiling. Wagging it's tail."

I giggled when I saw this one, (the other four companion journals were just as moving), of course dreams don't go away, they just wait forever it feels like. I'm opening the door, no longer looking at them through it, but rather standing in their presence and wondering what to do next. Which is where I've been for years now with my dreams...where to go, how to bring them into fruition, and do I need others to believe in them or is it enough that I do? Deep down I know the answers, but they sometimes get stuck behind the chaos of day to day life you know? I'm determined to come to this space, to read the book and fully participate, because in the end, I can't deny my dreams any longer.

And inside my journal it further encourages me with this:

"This is a space for dream words, love words, made up words, flying words, fall down and get up words. Get to know the sound of your own inner voice. Be creative. Be generous. Be bold."

Alrighty then, here I go...

Touched by Love

2008-12-18T09:28:00.001-05:00

I was your typical kid....I loved the christmas season because it meant I got presents. And two days later I got more presents because it was my birthday.

Eventually I got the concept of giving instead of just receiving...and realized that giving something felt just as wonderful as getting. I remember my sister and I buying the most gorgeous faux pearl and diamond earrings for my mother's birthday one year. Her faced beamed with love as she unwrapped them...she even wore them...but eventually I realized that they were really tacky and what kept that smile permanent was our gift of love from us to her. As a mother I now get that even more...

Children naturally give...sit in front of a child just learning to feed themselves, open your mouth, and see if a soggy cherrio doesn't get popped onto your tongue. They intuitively recognize the feeling of sharing and giving in their heart...and that abstract concept becomes more tangible as they grow more into themselves and realize what a gooey glued piece of craft paper does to you when least expected. They feel their love reciprocated...and that inturn begins an amazing cycle of love and gratidude handed back and forth in hugs, words, songs, a ceramic painted mug...or a pair of socks.

For as much as we north american folks live in more material wealth than some dream of...we all live in abundance of gestures of Love since we first understood that glow in our heart when we began to love outside of ourselves.

My blogneighbor Sorrow loves outside of herself constantly...and it's innate within her family. I gladly offer dear readers, her gesture of Love to you. It's a beautiful thing to witness, this giving that her family and now other blogneighbors are pouring out to anyone who wants to be touched by Love. Participating is even better....

2009 in One Word

2008-12-10T16:54:00.001-05:00

Deliberate Intention is the new New Years Resolution according to Christine.

I wrote down seven words from her suggested list and read the comments submitted by folks that all found their word through contemplation. I was skeptical of the whole thing at first, it still sounded like a condensed version of the monumental resolutions task of reforming oneself to do this, gain that, in 365 days or less. And if I took on this task when exactly would I find the time to make room in my day, let alone my head, to contemplate what my word would be?!

"Bah!" My inner-sceptic declared. It wasn't going to happen, although the idea began to appeal to me within a couple of days of reading her post. And hell, hadn't I already made the the time to pull seven words from a thirty-something list?

Subconsciously I was on board...and isn't that where all magic usually begins...

I had narrowed it down to laughter and integrity, both of which had been whispering in my ears previously to reading about this, but neither one were zinging me. As I stood washing dishes this morning, seduce by the melodic task of sudsing, scrubbing and rinsing, I rolled the words around in my heart. Were they the ones (my first clue should of been that I had to even ask), when suddenly they leaped off their foamy cliff and tumbled to a conclusion. What if I decided to accept this word thing? What if I chose to open myself up to a word that would set in motion an intent to create a sacred space for it's meaning and value to blossom within myself and my life?

What would it take for that to happen?

TENACITY.

Who said that?

TENACITY. It will take persistent determination for you to find the balls to make the changes you want to make for yourself. Thing is sweetheart, you have it in you, it's not going to be a huge leap, but rather one of faith in yourself and your path to do it.

It felt like someone had just sucker punched me.

No! Not that one, not that ginormous word! You know what precious memories that word holds for me! You know it's power on me! I can teach my daughter all about courage and perseverance and fearlessness but don't ask me to be an example of that too, because I can't!

You can. Why is it that since the day she was born, you've been singing to her about it? Why is it that throughout those debilitating dark days, in and out of the hospitals, you kept you eye on surviving even while contemplating exiting? I told you once that your greatest strength is your love ~ love for him, for her and for yourself. And I'm telling you that while you think you can't do it, you are, you can, you have been. TENACITY is your word. And you need to resurrect it.

By now tears are welled up and I'm trying to ignore that voice that won't shut up.

TENACITY is your word! It's your word damn it! Here it is all lit up in giant letters like some personal billboard on the strip of Las Vegas. You know your word, and now you can't deny it.

Fricken fracken.

Crap on a cracker.

F.U.C.K.

I can just pretend I never heard it. I can pretend that it's too esoteric of a concept to actually apply it to my day to day chaotic-wonderful-to-be-home-with-my-daughter-but-I'm-not-fulfilled-as-a-woman life. I can imagine that I fabricated the whole conversation and that tomorrow I'll come up with a less challenging word to embark into 2009 with. Or I can forget the whole thing and go back to doing the dishes.

But then I'd have to reason away why suddenly I can't get that damn song out of my head. The one that I began singing to my daughter days upon her arrival, not realizing that I was premonitiously singing about my own trudging crawl through post-partum depression. I would be the tenacious one, pulling myself out of an emotional abyss towards the bright love of my family.

the itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the water spout
down came the rain and washed the spider out
out came the sun and dried up all the rain
and the itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the spout again.
"Why?", I'd add to the end of the song, gazing into her newborn eyes...
"Because she had TENACITY."

I. AM. TENACIOUS. AND I WON'T FORGET IT THIS TIME.

it's such a sweet sensation

2008-12-08T16:38:00.001-05:00

"What if the cops come?" I ask, sticking my head out the window and peering into the darkness of the lot peppered with other cars and a boat. We've got beer in the car. And chocolate. It could be dicey.
"Why would a cop come here?" She asks sincerely.
"Uh, it's a parking lot, it's nighttime..." I reply flippantly.
"I'll tin him!" She replies gallantly.
"Tin him? What the hell does that mean?" It's cop lingo I know, but I'm a layman so I'm perplexed about this language.
"I show him my badge, he disappears."

I'm grateful for her company tonight. Not because she's a cop and we won't get busted for having drunk one bottle of beer, but because we are kindred spirits ~ we're mothers, and women who love our families and want what's best for them, and more for us. We've a past of similar painful fissures, and when our stories tumble from our hearts, we understand each other's tears and miraculously it feels like the perfect salve.

Tonight George Michael seduces us down the yellow brick road of our youth, Ah Ha takes us on, Markie Mark sings us into good vibrations (you feel it baby? i can too) then Soul II Soul joins the party. Feet dangling, air drumming, electric piano and microphone. Laughter filling the air above the bass boom from the car speakers.

These days, this is my kinda parking.

*

I miss writing. I miss commenting. I miss this place...and not sure what prevents me from filling up myself here as I used to do. I scrolled through my drafts, trying to find inspiration...and this one seemed just right. It reminds me how it feels to not be so depleted of energy and to gracioulsy accept what Love sends my way and use it's momentum to obliterate the dark.

my direct line to destiny

2008-10-09T16:49:00.001-04:00

Daily OM
October 9, 2008
Answering The Call
Taking Responsibility For Your Destiny

There are those of us who believe that our lives are predestined and that we should resign ourselves to our lots in life. Yet the truth is that it is up to each one of us to decide what that destiny will be. While each of us is born with a life purpose, it is up to us whether or not we will say yes to fulfilling it. And just like when we choose what to eat, who to keep company with, and whether to turn right or left when we leave our home everyday, choosing to say yes to your destiny is a decision that can only be realized when you take action to make that choice a reality.

Whether you believe it is your destiny to be a parent, an adventurer, an artist, a pioneer, or a spiritual guru, saying yes to your destiny is only the first step. While manifesting your destiny starts with knowing what you want and believing you can attain your goals, there are then the actions that must be taken and the decisions to be made before your destiny can truly happen. When you take responsibility for fulfilling your destiny and begin acting with the intention of doing so, you not only take fate into your own hands, but also you become the hands of your own fate. Doorways inevitably open for you to step through, and every choice you make can be a creative act toward realizing your goals and dreams. You begin to follow your instincts and intuition, recognize opportunities when they are presented to you, and seize those golden moments. You also begin to recognize the decisions that may not serve this greater picture and can more easily push them aside.

Remembering that the decision to fulfill your destiny is always a choice can be empowering. Knowing you are fulfilling your destiny because you want to, rather than because you have to, can make a huge difference. When you are freed from obligation, obstacles in your way become challenges to be overcome, and the journey becomes an adventure rather than the obligatory steps you are being forced to take. Your destiny may be waiting for you, but whether or not you meet your destiny is up to you. Your fate is in your hands.

...and i did just that today before reading my daily encouragement from DailyOM. even though the mood clinic i've been asked to work with hasn't returned my last seven calls, i called them again today and left a message with someone different this time. someone who seemed to think my kind of peer support for PPD could very well add to their own counseling services. someone who runs a 'speaking out' program to those well on their way to recovering from depression, but i decided i wanted to work in the trenches instead. someone hopefully who still believes that my survival story can also make a difference to other women.

i am not giving up, damn it...i refuse to accept that NO ONE needs another advocate for getting through PPD, that one mother's story isn't of the same quality of healing as professional, medical guidance. i'm persisting because i believe i'm destined to help other women make it to the other side, and hello, i'm answering the call and not letting it go into the grave of unfulfilled dreams!

hugs and other ways to seek comfort

2008-08-30T10:41:00.001-04:00

I've been struggling for a couple of weeks to begin "officially" writing about my personal experience with PPD. I'm contributing my story to a site that is intending to dispell myths about a plethera of topics, and this in particular happens to be one of my speciality. ha. Still, I feel the pressure to come up with the first sentence or two to draw the reader in, to say to her/him that this is not a pamplet on the signs of PPD but rather a very raw and real story of survival of a woman and her family. I've started the post about 37 times...all in my head, in the middle of the night, and not a pen or paper in sight. Thank gawd I'm only contributing once a month!

*

I visit Nicole's "Bellies & Babies" blog about once a week. Which translates to me either fuming about some idiot taking away another mother's choice of natural birth based on the stupid hospital tight timelines or I'm getting all teary as I watch a fellow mom birth her child the way she wanted to. And that makes me think about my own daughter's birth...and how it didn't go the way we had planned, and that I haven't stopped grieving about it, and that I really need to get it out and write about it.

But the other day I was having a "I wish I could either relive my daughter's infancy (because I was so shattered by my PPD) or have another one and become the blissed-out mother I had envisioned I would be" moment and I crawled into the only safe place I know to go when I'm feeling like this:

he doesn't ask
he doesn't hesitate
he just opens his arms and heart and wraps himself wholly around me
he doesn't ask
he just waits
i can tell him why tears fall from my eyes
why my heart is cracked
or i don't have to
his hug is always just there for me to walk into

*

I'm loving summer's last ditch efforts of heat and humidity. Aria and I have already had two more full-day adventureous play dates, and I can't seem to pack away my sarongs. Our tomatoe plants (whose only steroid was sun kisses and good nitrates) is still sprouting delicious red nuggets that all our kids can't get enough of.

*

I'm tackling another bout of indigestion. My pregnancy brought on this discomfort but for the last 3 yrs it's resurrected itself whenever it damn well felt like it, or so it seemed. Tom's noticed that last 3 months that's it's coincided with my ovulation/mid cycle and I'm now on herbs to restore my liver to a healthier state (dandelion, artechoke and milk thistle) as well as my adrenals glands (licorice root). Of course I'm researching all other sorts of holistic reasons this is reoccurring and it's interesting some of the finds I'm coming up with ~ inability to "digest" the goings on of my life is a major one, but not one I'm fully exploring at the moment.

*

Play-dates are awesome. Meeting new moms and finding out that it's because of our children that we were initially drawn, but now something more is blossoming between us is utterly divine.

*

This post has taken about a week to write...so, I've written that PPD post (and posted it on my other blog), my indigestion is under control and my family once more breathes a sigh of sympathetic relief...and I'm into our fall projects of sprucing up the furniture with paint. NOt sure how much time I"ll spend in my own blog...but I'll be around to ya'll regardless.

One love,
Lil xo

Color You & Me Friday*

2008-08-15T09:34:00.001-04:00

Mud is our friend. So is weeds, a pail, a shovel and Mommy's unending encouragement to have fun. We're happiest when we're dirty (and not worried about getting the stains out)!

*Thanks to Brandi for the inspiration!

Lauren, your interview is next...

wordless wednesday

2008-08-06T08:49:00.001-04:00

the truth will set me and her free

2008-08-01T00:32:00.000-04:00

i'm 3
and someone i love very much just left me.
and i don't feel their love anymore.
and it's left this gaping hole in my heart but i don't know how to do anything else other than cry all the time.
i don't if or when this person will be back.
it hurts, it hurts so much i want to rip at my chest to stop stop my pain.
why did they leave? why dont they love me anymore?

why can't i go with her? why is she leaving us here. come back mommy, you can't leave us, you're our mommy and she's not and you're hurting me and stop it, stop it, stopitstopitstopit

***

i don't know how to buffer this pain 40 years later as it crashes into me tonight.
but i'm thankful my body is remembering and letting go.
i don't know what to say to my 3yr old self...i know why my mother put us into foster care, and her reasons were noble and self-sacrificing, because it hurt her too...but how to comfort this sobbing self.
remind her that she came back and that she never left us again. and that that wicked witch who was supposed to love us can't hurt me or my sister again, and when i find those fucking pictures of my 'foster family', i'm going to burn them to nothing and hope that my memories burn too.

***

in the thick of my post-partum depression, i seriously contemplated foster care for my own infant daughter. of course that would never have happened, my family let alone my partner would have stepped in and pursued legal action. but still, it soothed me in my dark hell, knowing that she would be better off without me, knowing that some other family, some other mother could love her like she was supposed to be, this blue-eyed, dimpled cherub. knowing that the burden (because that's what it felt like through the thick haze) of being this all-knowing, always-loving, ever-patient mommy could be passed over to someone else and i could disappear into self-loathing for failing myself and her.

***

i'm so fucking grateful that i'm not ashamed to cry.
not ashamed that i can relive the thoughts i had during my depression knowing that they weren't mine to control (if you've never been depressed this sounds like a cop-out, but it is what it is).
not ashamed of the fucking hell i lived through for a year so that my mother could gather herself and be the mother she knew she could be.
not ashamed to write about this...letting the 8inch steel wall open on my wounds so that it doesn't eventually kill me.

wisened wolf women

2008-07-22T16:45:00.001-04:00

I saw this image and couldn't help but think of the words of wisdom I've finally begun to resonate with in "Women Who Run With the Wolves". I had purchased the book years before upon recommendation from a dear friend whom I admired (and looked like she had her shit together), but just didn't understand it's message then. I'm grateful now that I am ready...that I'm beginning to listen to my intuitive self, to trust it's voice and it's deep, knowing growls. Becoming a momma wolf has helped immensely in my letting go of the world's expectations of what a woman should be, and ultimately, because I'm allowing my wiser wolf to come forth, I'll nurture the same within my daughter. While this book and it's message is not "consecrated" per say, it's hallowed to me.

"A healthy woman is much like a wolf: robust, chock-full, strong life force, life-giving, territorially aware, inventive, loyal, roving. Yet separation from the wildish nature causes a woman's personality to become meager, thin, ghosty, spectral. We are not meant to be puny with frail hair and inability to leap up, inability to give chase, to birth, to create a life. When women's lives are in stasis, ennui, it is always time for the wildish woman to emerge; it is time for the creating function of the psyche to flood the delta...It means to establish territory, to find one's pack, to be in one's body with certainty and pride regardless of the body's gifts and limitations, to speak and act in one's behalf, to be aware, alert, to draw on the innate feminine powers of intuition and sensing, to come into one's cycles, to find what one belongs to, to rise with dignity, to retain as much consciousness as we can."

Eat your peas!

2008-07-21T09:07:00.001-04:00

Hello blog neighbors! By now I've stopped by most of your blogs to let you know that I am around but just not feeling the urge to write. Of course that never lasts too long with us writers, and this week, during my self-imposed "no TV" ban I plan on getting some creative things done that I've been putting off for pathetic re-runs, and it includes writing here.

Until then, here are a couple of photos of our current snow-pea harvest! We're some proud suburbia-organic farmers I tell ya...

give up being safe

2008-05-16T19:17:00.001-04:00

i am doing it again.

i am giving up on succeeding, by not even attempting to succeed, and ensuring self-disappointment and more importantly failure.

fuck.

sitting with tom after dinner, confessing to him that today was the day that i was supposed to call the mood-disorder clinic to begin working with them to help draw in women in need to their organization.

i didn't call.

confessing that this is such a familiar, hateful pattern within myself. confessing that while i can feel impassioned about something at the starting gate, i'm more likely to give up before i reach the end then to finish at all and see the (pathetic) results. i say pathetic, because that is what i have seem to always know how it ends for me. and yet, in a quick review, my life is not full of failures and bad things, it's filled with things that happened at just the right moment, when i needed it the most, even if i knew it or not.

and then, searching for inspiration, something to re-ignite my courage and drown my self-doubt, i come across this:

"the first thing i tell my clients or group members when they wish to develop their third chakras is to give up the attachment of being safe. this involves giving up wanting everything assured ahead of time and accepting that there might be criticism, challenge, misunderstanding, rejection or a possibility of failure" (how do i survive failing??). "while safety may be important for survival issues and for developing emotions, it is no challenge to our power if everything we do is already removed from any real risk." fuck

"we need to face the fact that the world is not safe. if we limit our selves to what is predictably comfortable, we may as well not get out of bed in the morning." but i like predictability, i makes me feel safe!! "in clinging to safety and security, we remain as children - powerless and wanting the world to be shaped for us. the challenge of power is to mature, accept responsibility, and carve the shape of our future through our ow proactivity. our power increases through meeting challenges and resolving them successfully." AHA!! "we must be willing to take risks, venture into the unknown, and escape the gravity of the familiar in order to expand upward and outward in the journey across the rainbow bridge (our dreams)." excerpt from eastern body, western mind ~ anodea judith.

well if i was looking for courage, here it is, served to me, via my muse (whom i've been cursing all day to leave me the hell alone) and her sister serendipity.

you bet i won't be able to shut her up now.

fuck.

the scent of some people

2007-08-21T20:14:00.001-04:00

"All I'm asking is that they take a bath."

I was shocked! I couldn't believe that I had just heard this mom say something so blatantly mean about the mother that had just walked away after her toddler. I turned away without saying anything...but I had to hold my breath a moment or two until the urge passed to enlighten this woman with her nose scrunged in disgust and racial bias about the many reasons why the scent of perspiration could possibly exist. "They" insinuated people from India, clearly, because this woman was wearing a sari. I had visited this particular play centre for months now, had come to know the indian mother...she was friendly, helpful and liked to socialize with the other moms and children. The deep need to defend her welled up inside of me like exploding lava, but I swallowed my voice because I was ashamed of witnessing this woman's prejudice...ashamed that she felt safe enough to share her judgement with me, as if I may agree with her.

Hours later, her comment is still haunting me...the rancidness of her cruelty rings in my ears. Given a second chance, I would have looked directly into her hifalutin eyes and told her that some people do takes baths, regularily, and still emitted a personal odor because of varying reasons, the most being that they made a conscientious decision not to wear a toxic anti-persperant, thereby letting their bodies breath and even *gasp* sweat. That I was one of them. That some people didn't have time to scrub themselves completely odorless every day, especially mothers who scrambled after two little ones, who might feel blessed with just enough time to brush their teeth and dawn a fresh pair of underwear. That I was one of these mothers too. That freely expressing her intolerant opinion was more offensive than BO.

Goddess forgive me for my own intolerance, it's well intended.

got them small blog blues ~ part I

2007-08-01T16:57:00.001-04:00

I am really struggling to write this particular post...because it's supposed to be about staying true to one's authenticity and uniqueness in the big blog pond (inspired by Magpie Girl, Jen Lemen and Krystyn Heide at BlogHer'07)...and I'm having a hard time reaching beyond my layers to do so. How's that for irony?

*shrug*

So inspired by Cate over at Beyon d the Fields We Know, I'm declaring it "Wordless Wednesday" here too. It's something that I've wanted to do for a couple of weeks now and it seems as good a time as any to show myself through my photos.

Mama Says Om ~ Honesty

2007-07-15T09:41:00.001-04:00

because of you, i grew up to be a practical dreamer and a fierce warrior of the heart.

because of you, i still cringe when i hear a man raise his voice in anger and wonder if the next thing he'll raise is his hand.

because of you, i feel the freedom to express myself any which way, knowing that you will still listen and accept me for who i am.

because of you, i know that i will never spend another second being degraded.

because of you, i learned to stand dignified in my truth instead of dishonorable in my falseness.

because of you, i do not live my life thinking that i'm a martyr or a victim of my circumstances.

because of you i now remember the joy of discovering a bug in the backyard.

because of you i learned that i wasn't the square peg i thought i always was.

because of you, i learned that the use of my body felt safer then a glimpse into my soul.

because of you i learned that my soul is far more beautiful than my body.

because of you i will always remember "to each his own"...which applied to everyone else but me.

because of you i finally behold Mother Earth for what She is...a living, breathing part of myself.

because of you, i learned to appreciate well written literature, detest plain, boiled potatoes and recognize that a consoling hug from my mother beats all other methods of comfort.

because of you, i was inspired to write this...

8 of randomness

2007-07-05T22:36:00.001-04:00

Before I go there though, let me say, once again, thank you for your support...all you "privatiers"! Chani, I've searched and there isn't a way to deem one post public and the other private...it's okay, I've come 'round to the idea that this particular blog of mine will only be open to a select few who (hopefully) cherish what I share with you. AND, I've got my other blog now, which I will infuse with myself as well, I'll just keep all the good stuff here exclusively! ;-) Den, header problem?? Not sure what you are referring to, however I do have a question for you ~ see my header above, well the jpeg isn't that blurry, it's sharper and it annoys me to no end that it looks less so here - any suggestions??

On with the randomness....

~ I used to drink cow's milk everyday...I felt lacking if I didn't. Then I read "Fit for Life" and drinking some other animal's milk didn't sit well with me after that. Not that soya is the way to go with all the hormone controversy, but it feels better. Calcium? I get it elsewhere, especially since I've discovered quinoa.
~ I toy with the idea of getting my nose reshaped. I waffle year to year about it...it doesn't strike me until I see a profile of myself...it doesn't seem to belong to the rest of my face. Friends and family argue with me that's it's not too big, it's just right...but like I said, I waffle. If I had the money...and if my morals about accepting myself as I was created weren't so damn important.
~ I like the punctuation "..." (as if you haven't noticed!) Those three dots express exactly how I speak...with contemplative pauses. My apologies to the grammar police! :-)
~ I would like to own a leather biker bra, tassles and all.
~ I have lusted over a handfull of women, but never been in a relationship with one. Had I been braver and not ashamed of my desire due to my upbringing, I would have went for it. Woulda, coulda, shoulda.
~ I have "greek" feet. Apparently that means that my second two is taller than my big one. Hmpfh, my toe rings look nicer on a sleeker toe anyway.
~ I instantly rejected my daughter when my midwife finished my pelvic exam and declared I would give birth to her by the weekend (this was on a Thursday). I didn't know it then...I just thought that panic was a natural reaction when you're about to give birth to another human being. Thus began my PPD.
~ I've been programmed to crave dessert after meals, especially after supper. You just can't have tea without something to sip it with.

Funny that I struggle to write about my life, and yet each one of these things could easily become a post in itself.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Weekend was great...not long enough, and at times, too long to be away from my daughter, but I'll be writing more about that later. And I have written about my uncle....but just can't bring myself to post it yet.

i lack his determination to fight

2007-06-09T20:45:00.001-04:00

death blows
unless you're suffering, and then I know first hand that death is a blessing

except for those left behind

6 hours before i was going to visit him in the hospital, my uncle died
at first they gave him 3 to 6 months
then, thursday, it was a matter of days or weeks
8am today the tollman came, wiped the pain from my uncles brow and led him away

it's no comfort that i know he's near...his spirit...because i didn't get to say goodbye
i can't remember what i said to him back in february on my father's 65th birthday
but i remember the first time i met him 30+ years ago

i feel the irresistable urge to spend the next few hours being reckless
oblivious to responsibilites and confinement of an adult life
loosing myself in a warehouse of strangers and ear-splitting base music

but i'm nothing close to reckless

i flirt with the idea of getting polluted

but tomorrow will still come
the memorial still to attend
hugs and tears to bestow on others grieving too

so i think and write and implore the day to end

2007-06-05T19:11:00.001-04:00

I'm almost done customizing my blog...

...the image embodies the route my life has taken since my Monkey was born. Oddily enough, I accept myself and my body more now on this leg of my earthwalk then any other time....

Bear with me while I finish, then I'll be back reading and writing like I'm craving to do.

parks are supposed to be fun

2007-05-25T21:18:00.001-04:00

"a ha bun a par."
"honey, take the bottle out of you mouth, I can't understand what you're saying."
"I had fun at park!"
"I know, I had fun too!"
"climb, climb...slide....swing....sand!"
LOL! "I'm glad you had fun little one..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jen, Helena, Chani, Den & Anne...I wish I could see that little boy again...and boldy go up to him and say what I really wanted to say...but the grey pallor that hung around both of them was too much...my gut told me all was not right with them...and how does a stranger say what's really in her heart in such circumstances? So I poured out my tears and heartache here...but if I ever see him again, I swear to myself to do something...anything...to encourage vitality to return to his wee eyes.

helpless

2007-05-20T11:03:00.001-04:00

Dear boy in the park,

I wanted to walk up to you and ask you if you wanted to play with me and my family (what I really wanted to do was ask you if you were okay...were you safe?)

I wanted to help you out of your jacket, turn down the one side of your shirt collar and let you know that it was a warm May day (what I really wanted to do was ask you if you were wearing all the clothes you owned.)

I wanted to extend my hand as an encouragement to pull you out of the cool shade and into the warming sunlight (what I really wanted to do was wrap my arms around you and smother the vacant look in your eyes with my mother-love.)

I wanted to walk over and push you on that swing. I wanted to see a smile crack your gloom-washed face (what I really wanted to do was ask your male-companion why he was just sitting there like a ragdoll, spreading his lifelessness all over you.)

I wanted to kneel in front of you, look into your eyes and offer you a glimpse of the happiness that a nine year old boy could have if he wasn't as lost as he looked.

And when your male companion walked out of the park, abandoning you to wander alone, I wanted to run to you and tell you that now was your chance...your chance to tell a mother with too much love in her heart for just her own child...that your mother had died (not left you), and that your companion was your grieving father (not your abusive uncle) and that you were both here, escaping out of your small apartment to get some fresh air (not looking for scraps of food in the back alley of the local restaurants.)

Whatever was suffocating the spark of life that I knew a young boy should shine with, I wanted to rip it off...I wanted to oliterate the yearning for the burden-free life I saw in your eyes with kite-flying and movie nights and campfire songs.

Instead I was rooted with overwhelming anguish and sadness as I stood in the middle of the playground watching my husband and daughter awash in their boundless love...while you and your companion walked out of the sun-dappled park and disappeared.

unstoppable

2007-05-15T17:25:00.001-04:00

Enough with the dirty laundry hanging on my blog line.

I'm sick of our stalkHer's crap in my head and home, and the last place I want it to poison is my blog. I am done with it.

Instead I am adopting a stance of disengagement. I am changing the way that I handle the avenging, phychic malice bombarding our home. I am no longer expelling precious time and mental energy on the situation. I am cleansing our home (and blog), encasing us once again in the light of Love and Peace that we used to inhaled daily...I refuse to engage in the "art of war" any longer.

My apologies if my laundry flung dirt your way...and thank you all again for your support and understanding.

I browsed through my postings in 2006 - the year I started to write here. While that part of my life had moments of feeling disconnected from myself, it seems I regained balance and calmness so much easier than I do now. It could be because I've finally weaned myself of the medication for my PPD (post-partum depression)...or it could be that our life has become more stressful somehow...but I suspect it's because I've neglected to remember that it takes effort and time to maintain balance in my life. Negativity has seeped in to my life...but not taken over.

I'm back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

NakedJen posted this a couple days back...it accompanies her friend's signature and it spoke to me of that hope I harbor in the midst of seemingly world despair:

"Stop thinking this is all there is.

Realize that for every ongoing war & religious outrage & environmental devastation, there are a thousand counterbalancing acts of staggering generosity & humanity & art & beauty happening all over this world right now on a breathtaking scale.

Resist the temptation to drown in fatalism, to shake your head & sigh & just throw in the karmic towel.

Realize that this is the perfect moment to change the energy of the world, to step right up & crank your personal volume: right when it seems dark and bitter & offensive & acrimonious & conflicted, there is your opening.
Remember magic.

And finally, believe you are a part of a groundswell, a resistance, a seemingly small but actually very, very large impending karmic overhaul, a great shift, the beginning of something important, potent & unstoppable."
- this quote was transcribed from the wall of a place of worship

It's a sad day when...

2007-05-09T21:26:00.001-04:00

What kind of parent uses their children to seemingly hurt the other parent and not see that it's hurting the children instead?

What kind of parent maliciously coaches their children to believe that their other parent has less than the children best interest at heart?

What kind of parent tells their children that their father walked out and left THEM despite the fact that their father has told them the TRUTH...he left their mother and the marriage only.

What kind of parent continues to not only lie to themselves but their children so that they can continue to fester in their own world of VICTIMHOOD?

What kind of person shows their children their wedding video and tells them that those are the promises their father broke...ones that he continues to break while living (in sin) with his girlfriend and baby out of wedlock?

Whate kind of parent puts themselve first?

A kind of parent that can't acknowledge that love, truth and goodwill always prevails over retribution and selfishness?

Disco Sunday & blog etiquette...

2007-05-06T10:41:00.001-04:00

It's another kid-free Sunday here and I've got disco funk (courtesy of iTunes) streaming through Tom's super 'puter stereo...."Woman, take me arms...rock me Baby!" *pause long enough to pump n' grind in my chair* It's an even more beautiful day because I'm allll alone! There's no one here but me...which means I get to embrace the day however I see fit...and seeing as it's 10:48 already, and the sun is calling, I'm going to stay inside long enough just to post this...

Blog etiquette....I've tried to respond to you who leave comments by either emailing you or responding back in the comments section, but I never know if you see/get it, so I hereby declare that I will respond more often than not in another post. It's easier for you to access my responses, and it allows me to share with everyone else...

So....my previous post "Budding"...the image is of a plaque that a friend gave his girlfriend years ago. She took it up to her parents place near Kilaloo, ON and settled it next to their wood shed where flowers and other plant life soon welcomed it into it's new home. I fell in love with it as soon as I strolled past it...and it beckoned to be captured (and photoshoped). The exact image you now see also hangs on my friend's wall, a christmas gift from Tom and I. The two figurines seemed to express the sensuality I was trying to capture in my wee poem...

(stop....sway to the boppy "Oooh, I love to love....")

The photo "Day 5 etc" that I posted on Mama Says Om last a couple of weeks back for their theme "Sex" was taken back in 2006 by me...well actually by the self-timer on our camera, but it was MY idea. Tom and I were just laying in the sun streaming through our window and it felt like a "kodak moment"...so we set up said camera on tripod and voila! It's definitely one of my favorites and I really struggle with exactly where to hang it in our home...

The new look...yes, I like it too! I'm learning alot about html coding thanks to Beta Blogger for Dummies and working on totally revamping my blog all by myself! Um...well Tom help's decipher the language (like what the hell a widget is)...and I curse alot...but it's slowly coming together. I've been wanting to do this since my birthday back in December but Tom has been so freaking busy with work (which is a good thing don't get me wrong) and has pushed me to find another solution (read: stumble upon said website, praise the gods).

And finally...going private. I am finding it really challenging to go ahead with my decision! Other than your everyday, run-o-the-mill health privacy issues, I am, by nature, not all that private with my day to day life. I don't rush to close the curtains when night falls and the neighbrs can see into our lit rooms...I don't ensure our yard shrubbery grows high enough to block our adjoing neighbors view of our activities...hell I don't even have a fence on the east side...and clearly if I was private, would I have a public blog, a flickr account etc.? I don't see another solution though...Olga's obsession hasn't subsided (from what I've been told, her nerosis is ingrained), and I'm sure that every post only fuels it even more. I'll keep you posted blog neighbors...

Oh, one other thing. I can't for the life of me get my blogs to show up in my profile. I have tried all tips that Blogger offers and it still won't work. So if I sign off on my comments with my blog address, you'll understand it's because it ensures you find your way back here and not just my (lengthy yet enticing) profile.

I'm off to play under the blue skies...but not before reminicing with Spandau Ballet "I know thiiiis muuuuch is truuuuueeeee"...

Skipping in my bare feet,
Lil

Budding

2007-04-23T22:03:00.001-04:00

Can you taste it?

Allow your mouth to fall open
and inhale Her scent into your being

Her sole thoughts...
burst through the winter debris
feel the sun's kisses

Let Her tenacity fuel yours...
Feel your own opening...

2007-04-19T07:52:00.001-04:00

I do not watch the news nor do I read the newspaper. This may seem odd to some, even naive...to live in a world that is now so permiated with variations of media and a plethera ways to access it...however, it's the way I choose to live.

When Babe heard about Virginia's tradgedy on Monday, he purposely didn't bring up the subject, he knows how I feel about the constant bombardment of doom and gloom that the media perpetuates. Instead, it was first in the blogworld that I heard about the masacre whereupon I purposely avoided all aspects of the coverage thereafter.

Sound selfish? No, it's self-protection. My heart is maxed out on the amount of sorrow it can hold inside. That doesn't mean that I'm not compassionate about the suffering that happens on the planet that I live on (or about the masacre), it simply means that I cannot and will not subject myself to any more agony, treachery and corruption...in my view, it's pure poison. I'd rather spend the energy and choose to focus and surround myself with goodness, kind-heartedness and ethicality.

Avoiding anything having to do with the masacre proved harder than I thought as not only was it covered by every form of media, but also it was all abuzz in the blogworld. I came upon this...NakedJen posted a lovely prayer that her husband received from The Mankind Project...and I agree with Jen, I think this prayer could apply to mankind instead of just men...

My friends,
Pray for men.
Pray for boys in men's bodies.
Pray for the boys that they were.
I am in pain this morning, grieving the tragedy in
Virginia, the tragedy in Dafur, the tragedy in Iraq
- the thousands of tragedies that are happening right now
that none of us know about.
Men are picking up guns and getting ready to kill.
Men are mistaking their deep fear and bottomless grief for rage and righteousness.
Men are believing that they are ALONE when they are only lonely and disconnected.
Men are covering themselves in impenetrable armor to protect their soft cores.
This is the crisis of masculinity.
90 gun deaths every day in America.
90% committed by men and boys.
1 in 4 women assaulted or raped before the age of 18 - by a man - usually a man they know. These are our mothers, sisters and daughters.
This tragedy in Virginia started with male violence against a woman.
(like so many others)This is the crisis of masculinity.
So here is our challenge as NEW WARRIORS.
To rewire our reactivity.
To feel the fear and grief and help others feel it.
To protect our communities from OURSELVES.
These men out there are us.
These are the living shadows that we have looked at in ourselves.
The answer is not to get tougher.
I must get softly PRESENT, I must get gently AWARE.
I must share this AWARENESS, this SENSE OF BEING with other men and boys
- to allow them to FEEL and to take conscious action in the world.
To respond to their worlds rather than react.
We have to move through the ANGER and FEAR, we have to FEEL IT - unprotected, vulnerable, safe.
This is what we are inviting men to step into.
I bless the work you are doing today as a New Warrior.
I bless the fear and sadness.I bless the quiet center of your being - that is ready to take conscious action. Write letters today.
Call Congress (202-224-3121).Pull your family close and share yourself with them.
I'm in, with sadness and hope.

2007-04-15T17:36:00.001-04:00

I have put this off for too long...

I've decided to change my blog to "private". If you want to continue to read my writing then I need to put you on a "viewer's list"...simply email me your email address and I'll add you on.

You're probably wondering why I'm doing this? Well it's not about my blog neighbors at all...I'm grateful to have met each and every one of you...and I consider you all a part of my blog neighborhood, you enhance my experience here without question. And it's not that I even mind that my blog is public...I don't care that people lurk out of mere curiosity.

But when my blog is read with the intent to fuel someone's obsession...when I consider those actions and others to be of a stalker nature, then I have to make a decision for the betterment of my family.

Olya, your malicious behaviour may have been appropriate in the initial stages of grieving for the loss of your relationship with Tom...but four years later, it's clearly become neurotic.

Drive-bys, skulking our Flickr accounts and sneaking around here and wherever else Tom and I venture in the real and virtual world is a clear indication that you are hanging onto the past. Other "enemies" in your life may tolerate your acts of spiteful neurosis, but you are mistaken if you think you can continue to do so to me.

In other words...STAY OUT OF MY BUSINESS AND GET YOUR OWN LIFE.

Loving Your Body Monday's according to Deb

2007-03-18T09:20:00.001-04:00

I am so DOWN with Deb's new venture....and I will be participating wholeheartedly! In fact I've created a Meme, I just have to give it another once over.

And yes I know...I'm still working on the post about why I've been scarce here and on other blogs...it's coming...

For now though, go check out Deb's posts (there's two)...you'll either be inspired and up for the challenge or you'll run in the other direction (which is a telltale sign in itself)!

Now, which part of my body to embrace first....?

LOL and blush

2007-03-05T19:05:00.001-05:00

Aw, thank you all for appreciating my last post!

The verses I quoted is from one of the family favorite "sing along" songs at our gatherings and it came to me one night as an answer to a challenging question I've been battling with (you'll find out exactly what in the next post). I know I've been a woman of few words lately, and that will also be addressed very soon.

Until then, here's another image of me taken when I was just beginning my second trimester with Monkey-Moo...Babe just posted it up on his Flickr account, and I must say he made me look as sexy as I felt! Thank you my love!

Side by Side

2007-02-27T08:30:00.001-05:00

Through all kinds of weather

Babe and I have faced many challenges in our relationship. And with each one, it's our togetherness...our bond...that gets us through, because we've been through our own personal hells alone...and we've realized that we survive and surpass so much more with one another.

What if the sky should fall?

We're solid...and fluid...and passionate about living our life abundant with love, good will, peace of spirit and copius amounts of always seeing the silver lining. We walk through the adversity holding hands, knowing that we can pass through it only if we're knitted together.

Just as long as we're together
It doesn't really matter at all!

Oh, we ain't got a barrell of money
Maybe we're ragged and funny

But we travel along, singing our song
Side by Side!

I can't imagine existing in this world without him.

Jumping our jiggles

2007-02-16T11:51:00.001-05:00

Jumping is one of the kids favorite things to do on a cold day...naked is best!

Mama Says Om: Song

2007-01-28T10:10:00.001-05:00

Then put your little hand in mine
There ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb

(Babe by Sonny & Cher)

Nothing soothed Monkey more than hearing Mommy sing this song...

Out of site but not out of mind

2007-01-04T06:26:00.001-05:00

My blog was supposed to be a place where I could come to think about the BIG thoughts. A place where I could freely investigate my Self and all the hats that I wear as a woman. It was going to be a place where I could come to at the end of the day and reflect about whatever stirred my soul...and while there were glimpses of that, inevitably it began to feel oligatory...and complicated...and I lost sight of why I began my on-line journal in the first place.

I had to let something go in the past month, or I was going to let go myself! So I temporarily left my blogging...but I still visited my blog neighbors and was moved and inspired for my own future postings.

And I did more of this...

I'm about ready to return...I've got a couple of entries waiting on the sidelines...and then I'd like to get caught up with reading other's blogs...all the while keeping the balance.

Lil

So many gifts, so much joy to bath in!

2006-12-08T18:42:00.001-05:00

I'm emerging from my fortress of solitude to give two important gifts to three important women. First though, I owe some thank you's to a few friends that visited me while I was down in the dumps...

Jo, I felt your hug every time I read it (and I read it many times) ...and I sank into it...it's so healing...thank you. And isn't it funny that it's easier to heal someone else with love than heal yourself??

Penny, I hope this isn't my PPD comming back...because it almost cost me my life the first time 'round. This transition is triggering me...it feels just like when my daughter arrived on the scene, and four days later I had had enough with motherhood and wanted my own bed, my own time-schedule and my own self back the way it was before. I continue to be flabbergasted about how much time, inner-strength and energy it takes to nurture her...how single parents do it (like my mother), I'll never know. I've learned two things during my two min-breakdowns though (and therein lies the blessing): It does indeed take a village to raise a child and that if I'm depleted and out-of-touch with my Self, then I'm useless to all who depend on me...medication or not. Thank you for your kind words and support.

Deb, my sister healer...you have already given me so much help with your words and your aura reading. I'm still digesting it all. As for the 'accepting it' part, girlfriend, I've heard that message twice now...if one more person says it to me I'm gonna scream - no offence intended! But, how do I accept it...how do I sit with the sadness when I'm a warrioress?? How do I ask her to step aside so that my inner child can stumble through the muck known as my life right now?? Thank you for your promise - I'm holding you to it!

Jen, thank you for your peace and love...and if I still had your phone number I would have called you trust me! Although it sounds like you've got a full plate right now, what with the wedding and all, who needs a wet blanket in the middle of such a happy-happy, joy-joy occassion?! *wink*

Crazymumma, I've thought about talking to "someone". I had to do 25hrs of personal councelling for my certification in holistic health, and that helped me heal from alot of trauma in my past. While we get through the holidays (and the drain on our wallet!), I'm doing what I can. Thank you for your encouragement.

*************************************************************************

Enough about me....onto the gifts!

Jen & Mad, a little birdie told me that you're tying the social justice knot! I've read all about your courtship...and you are both some smooth talkers, not to mention all the bridesmaids! Like the rest of your attendees, I've put alot of thought into my gift, but you'll just have to wait to unwrap it...um, because it's not wrapped yet! It'll be the one wrapped in enviro-friendly canadian newspaper discussing the tradgedies of drunk driving.

And I'm volunteering to bring the cake - I mean what is a wedding without a ten-tier cake to squash into each other's faces hmmm?! Let me know what flavour you prefer asap please 'cause at this rate I'll be up all day and night frosting the damn thing to have it ready for Sunday...better up my meds!

Jo...it sounds like you need my hug right now, so I'll be right over. I don't know if it'll help...I'm not even sure if I can say the right things to ease your pain just a little....but you've been in my corner throughout my shit, and I'm in yours through yours.

******************************************************************************

I'm heading back into my fortress (after I wrap said gift) so that I can get enough peace to bake, make a dress and gear myself up for some girl (brain) on girl (brain) partying! See you there!

my own "dark night of the soul"

2006-12-03T22:18:00.001-05:00

I'm not here. I don't know where I am, but it's not in this body. I can't feel my heart... I feel lost and unrooted...and barren...and so desparetely weary of trying to find my way back.

I've given myself Reiki every night while I lay in bed, asking Dr. Usui for his healing light to enter my body and shattered the scabs of ache and pain in my muscles and joints. I've been consuming (for the most part) copius amounts of herbal teas to encourage my body to let go of the frustration and flailing so that I can descend back into my Self once more. Lavender essential oil is my bedside companion, and it's sedating aroma my security blanket.

Babe urges me on with his love and compassion...but even now I don't feel that I deserve him and his exceptional soul.

It's all very familiar to me...it was this and so much more when I was in the dark pit of my post-partum depression. I can feel, somewhere, an ember of my former self left...still glowing with life and power...and hope...ready to be restored and resurrected...but it's buried under a crust of self-loathing and shame.

Somehow...someway, I need to find the energy to continue this battle.

Peek-a-boo...I don't see you!

2006-11-29T22:33:00.001-05:00

Ok...I can type a post, but I can't see my actualy blog!! How freaking crazy is that??!! And to boot...I've lost my links because I'm changing my template...

So for all you "Lil" fans....I'll be back....and I'll get your links up soon....and I'll be back to visiting your blog too!

I know I'ved prayed to be invisible some days, but this is ridiculous!!

What a boob!

2006-11-25T17:29:00.001-05:00

By now I'm sure you've heard about the woman who was escorted of a Delta Airlines plane because she refused to cover her breasfeeding-self up when a stewardess offered her a blanket.

I've read many comments of the issue but this has got to be the stupidest:

The issue is with breast-feeding in public. Breasts arouse sexual feelings in men and sometimes other women, and THAT is why there ought to be discretion. A pro-breast-feeder is going out of bounds when she purposely breast-feeds in a public place while it is made known to her that some people are uncomfortable about it.

Really?? If breasts are so darn arousing then why is it acceptable that men walk around shirtless?? Does anyone see women (or men) swarming these bare-busters?! Does anyone actually put up a public protest about this as they do about public breastfeeding?? DOES ANYONE CARE?? The answer is a resounding NO...but you don't hear it because you'e all too busy oogling the WOMAN's breast...obstructed by the baby's head by the way!

...and this one:

Also her child was almost 2 years old a bit old for breastfeeding in my eyes (written by a woman)

Can you show me the rule book that dictates the appropriate age a child is supposed to stop breastfeeding? See I thought it was up to the individual...

I am absolutely appalled at how outrageous this has become! Breastfeeding has been happening for centuries...it's not going away, so when exactly are the public going to get used to it?? IT'S WHAT WOMAN'S BREAST ARE FOR PEOPLE!!

I'm stopping now...and going some place where they are not talking about this...like another planet.

So you understand...

2006-11-23T18:24:00.001-05:00

I've made some changes since my last post and am happy to report that I am back on track with balancing my life.

First though, I wanted to say a public THANK YOU to all the people who understood and offered support during my little breakdown! I honestly didn't know that swinging so out of whack could happen...I thought it was my post-partum depression rising up again, and that scared the crap out of me!

So after reading and re-reading...and re-reading your comments, inhaling Lavender essential oil and spending the day with my mother to help out with Moneky-Moo, I feel sooo much better...my world has light in it again. I'm re-energized, I am committing to making time for myself, and leaving Monkey-Moo home with Babe in the evenings, and dragging out my mat for much needed yoga breathing and postures. And I'm talking to God/dess again...something I haven't done in months because I've been too damn tired when my head hits the pillow...and it brings me so much comfort to open up my communication line with Her again.

Well my step-children are here for a three day weekend...so I'm off to Chapters, or the mall...or someplace else that gets me out of the increase noise level until I adjust to it! Happy Thanksgiving to my friends across the border...hope you enjoy your three day weekend too!

Lil

Letting my soul breathe

2006-11-15T22:09:00.001-05:00

Inspired by someone else's journal, I am stepping out of my writing "just the right thing" garb, and letting my fingers do the talking...

Monkey-Moo and I have spent all day, every day together since the end of August when we pulled her out of daycare. My enthusiasm to fully participate and contribute as much fun and growth in her life has recently waned, and up until last Sunday I had no idea why...I merely chalked it up to lack of sleep.

On that Sunday, I had an emotional release...when my soul sent a clear message to my too-active-to-listen-until-now brain that if I didn't admit the truth to myself, I was going to loose more than my enthusiasm for being Monkey-Moo's playmate...I was going to loose my will to live my life, and hop onto the next passing train and start another one somewhere else.

Her message was brief but crystal clear: I can't keep it all together anymore!

I honestly had no idea this is how I was feeling...and what exactly was I trying to "keep together"??!

And then the other night, while watching a TV series of all things, it dawned on me...I have been trying to keep myself together, literally. I have bound my emotions and true Self up so tightly in duct tape that I allow nothing to leak out. Not my frustrastration with the lack of ME time...nor the anger that rises up when I can't take one more whiney-plea-from-my-kid-and-Babe-still-sits-in-his-office-even-though-it's-past-5pm-and-dinner-isn't-started-and-clearly-my-kid-is-heading-for-a-meltdown-due-to-hunger moment...nor the fact that all I really want to do sink into a hot bath, deep below the surface to muffle out everything else but my own heartbeat...on a deserted island.

I have been walking through my days all chipper, ensuring that everyone only sees that I am thrilled being a mom and a partner, instead of a drowning,suffocating woman...just a woman who isn't coping with any of the roles that she had slid so easily into once upon a time.

Clearly ignoring my Self's plea for to be heard will be detrimental...so I won't...but I am unsure where to go from here. I'm talking to Babe about all of this...no more self-editing...and of course leaving the communication lines open between me and my soul.

Where pain goes to heal...

2006-11-11T14:09:00.001-05:00

Have you ever read something that triggers a painful memory from your past? I did... and those memories are no longer hiding in my closet and are screaming to be let out. fricken fracken...

I wanted to write about my pain...I wanted to look back on those terrifying times in my life when my inner warrior was helpless and remember that I survived them despite the odds.

What I've heard through the din of my memories though, is that others also have similar scars...some that have healed, some that haven't. And somehow it's comforting to know that I am not alone in my sorrow...woud others find it just as comforting?

And so "the only way out is through" is born. Jen and I have collaborated on created a space where you and I can write about our scars...for better or for worse. You can be as public or as anonymous as you'd like when you email your story, because this place is not about who you are but what you have to share.

Lil

You were saying??

2006-11-10T23:49:00.001-05:00

Yes, I'm still alive. No I haven't stopped posting...but doing it every freaking day to keep up with NaBloPoMo members is just too much for this ol' gal.

Yes, I'm exhausted. No I still can't seem to find the time or energy to post anything this week...but I'm getting the "itch" back despite all that...

Soon dear reader...soon....

Oh, and for those of you who commented...clearly I should post more semi-nudes of Babe and I! Crazymumma, John & Yoko - too funny!

Day 5: Getting my priorities straight

2006-11-05T20:20:00.001-05:00

I had a whole wack of things to do on my list for this kid-free day...

but none of them got done. 'Nuff said.

Day 4: Sticker nose

2006-11-04T20:06:00.001-05:00

...when you're too young for a nose piercing like mommy's...

Day 3 - Assume the postion

2006-11-03T21:20:00.001-05:00

This is how Monkey-Moo likes her morning bottle...and how Babe snatches 10 more minutes of sleep.

Day 2 - Lullabyes are so old school, yo!

2006-11-02T22:20:00.001-05:00

Like most children, Monkey-Moo loves music, and especially singing. In our family, that means that she mostly listens to adult-type music, with a good measure of kid-friendly songs to ward off CAS being called on our butts.

It also means yours truly gets to sing her to sleep. At first, it was to Annie Lennox, Sarah McLaughlin and Babe (as in Sony & Cher). Then as she grew that much older, I began to introduce songs that were supposed to be more to her liking and more to her age group (between you and me, she prefers our music). For the most part, I enjoy singing to her at bed time...I know the day will come all too soon when I'll barely get a good night from her as she whisks by, trying to conceal the odor of alcohol on her 16 year old breath. *sniff* They grow up so fast...

I sing the typical songs...Twinkle, Twinkle, Ba Ba Black Sheep, blah blah blah and Goddess bless her, she'll prompt me with a slurred, bottle-muffled "more!" which translates to "next song, pwease!" I'm happy to oblige past the kiddy songs seeing as I've now thrown in a few of my own child-hood favorites to add to the mix so as not to fall asleep from the mindnumbing, repedative drone :

Lean On Me ~ The Temptations (original by Bill WIthers)
I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing ~ Lea Salonga
Sing a Song ~ ?
Oh Little Playmate ~ a hand-clapping game
Turn Around - Kenny Logins

So tell me, what songs do your children enjoy listening and singing along with? Do you have any personal favorites that you're passing on? Will your child one day hear Prince's "Delirious" and remember a Saturday night rock-out fest when she was two?? Oh wait, that's my kid...

Mommy knows how to whine too!

2006-11-01T16:38:00.001-05:00

I would like to know where all the mommy bloggers find the time to blog?? Because unless the powers that be change the cylce of a day to 27 hours instead of 24, I don't...I don't have time to write!!! And it's driving me FREAKING CRAZY....because this is my outlet, my oasis...my sacred place to come to to be alone with my thoughts (um, alone and with you) and not, I repeat, NOT be interrupted!!

But every freaking time I sit down, which is after a long day with Monkey-Moo, and a time when I'm supposed to be able to leave her with her father, her satellite ears perk up from 30 feet, two walls and one door away as she hears the clicking of the keyboard. On my side of the walls, I hear the soft thudding of her feet as she comes running towards the office to assault her "mooo?? MOOO???" demands on me. Those dreaded sounds means she wants to watch mooooovies....short clip videos of our day to day life. I can't go anywhere near this thing unless she is out of earshot...which means either out of the house or in bed. And I'll be honest, in each case, you'll find me flaked out on the couch, trying to catch my breath or falling asleep...

I want to join the NaBloPoMo but don't see how I can committ to writing everyday without falling alseep on my keyboard or being nagged by my attached-at-the-hip toddler. And I owe so many "thank you's" and "hollas" to so many neighbors...and when I'm awake during the night with my damn insomnia, I've got a ton to write about, but now...it's all fading away like my will to remain vertical!

Can you hear it...the shrill whine of my voice rising 10 octaves with each sentence???? Fricken' fracken' I'm even driving my own self crazy! I'm going to stop now...I'm loosing my voice with all this complain' and my sanctum of linens beckons....6am comes way to bloody early these days.

I gotta know....how or where the frigg do you find time write in your blog?? Is there a secret ripple in time that you have access to that you could pull me over to??

Spreading the luv in the 'hood!

2006-10-25T23:31:00.001-04:00

I began writing this blog because...well I can't remember right now, but I vowed back then that I would write it for me...for my own musings...and not to win a popularity contest with other bloggers and not to rack up comments and blog luv.

But I can see how one can be so easily swayed to write for others when there is so much blog luvin' goin' down! Who knew ( I didn't!) that entering the bogworld would feel like moving into a new neighborhood and, while out walking the dog (or in my case my daughter) you are greeted by folks who've never met you but like the look of you anyway! They smile and wave...you smile and wave. On the next walk, a wave turns into a hello, then a hello and a how are you...and before you know it you're having full-on conversations and on a first name basis!

Well that's how it is in the "bloghood" if you're lucky enough to meet the neighbors that I have. And I am...lucky that is...to meet them, and share with them little tidbits here and there about myself, my life and what keeps me from driving off the next cliff.

So you know what...while I write for my own sanity (read: to prevent the crazy-ass thoughts from colliding and causing a nuclear explosion in my brain), I also write with the purpose of sharing my life with my neighbors. I mean c'omon, who doesn't like to meet their neighbors...and how do they turn into friends unless you're willing to share...

I can't choose though....sorry Mrs. Chicky...I just can't choose one blog neighbor to honor in your luvfest 'cause I love them all, I really, really do! But I am going to let each and every one know why I luv them...so I thank you for reminding me that blog neighbors are special and don't come around every day...or in every 'hood.

Lil

a distant Light

2006-10-19T17:15:00.001-04:00

This is not what I expected...

I didn`t expect to witness the joys of my life through my wall of despair and hopelessness...
I didn`t expect to feel their loving light pierce my darkness and leave me thirsting for more...
The weeping child huddled against the wall is not my Truth...these two are...

Let go of your sorrows little one and join your Warrioress to dance in their dappling light...

As soon as I was diagnosed with post-partum depression, I moved in with my parents...I couldn't cope with the depression, let alone be responsible for a 2 month old baby. My parents lived an hour away and Babe needed to continue to work (from home), so he drove down to see us when he could. Being apart from him was terrifying...he was my life line...so I inhaled every moment I could when he was near. Life felt saner.

Mama Says OM: LIFE

2006-10-18T22:20:00.001-04:00

I don't know who wrote this, but they had my kind of living in mind when they did...

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WooHoo, what a ride!"

I have this posted on my front hall closet...and everyone, including the pizza delivery guy like it as much as we do.

Babe has the right idea...

Bloggers ban together to screw Bitacle

2006-10-17T12:14:00.001-04:00

Thanks to Mary for posting this...I don't qualify for their pilfering, but I know others that come to my blog do.

Go get the bastards bloggers!

My heart's tears

2006-10-15T21:15:00.001-04:00

I cried last night.

I cried because I was sharing with Babe crazymumma and one plus two's posts.

I cried becase after reading them, I began to recall every moment I've ever been or had let myself be sexually abused.

I cried because I finally told Babe about some of those moments.

I cried because finally the heartache of those memories began to wash over me.

I cried because...I have never allowed those memories to make me cry before.

I cried because it's time...

It's time to heal...

It's time to write.

It will continue...

2006-10-13T22:02:00.001-04:00

I have been gently encouraged to write more about my experience with post-partum depression from fellow readers.

I have been travelling around the blogworld, reading about other women's experience with the illness...and with each one I am heartened to know that there is so much openness surrounding it.

As I've already admitted, I'm not the most poetic writer...quite amateur in fact...and I feel I need to be, in order to document my experience with accuracy...and the same intensity in which I lived through it.

I will write more...I have been longing to...it's just going to take time...

Mama Says Om theme: Fall

2006-10-07T03:14:00.001-04:00

The first crack ripped into my path February 4, 2005...the day my daughter was born.

I easily side-stepped it, floated over in fact...for the first 4 days.

And then, other tears began to appear. They seemed to multiply and spread every day, cleaving into my seemingly solid direction...severing me from my baby and my existence. It was getting harder and harder to weave my way through...

When Monkey-Moo was just shy of being 2 months old, my world gave way from under me. I fell. I reached out to grasp at the vitality above, and held on tightly to stop my descend.

My grip lessened every day...until I felt it slipping out of my hands, and I began to plummet again.

I didn't struggle to hold on any longer...I welcomed the approaching darkness...I didn't have the strength or will to persevere. I pleaded for the chasms to close up around me...let Life continue on without me...

And thus began my battle with post-partum depression.

I just wanted to say...

2006-10-02T22:38:00.001-04:00

...thank you dear readers! I've only been blogging for just over a month, and one of my post actually reached 8...EIGHT...comments!! Of course, I've still to reply to them....but I wanted you all...the commenters...to know that I'm grateful....grateful for your words, your appreciation, and *blush* putting me on your blog list.

Blessing to you all,
Lil *hug*

She emerges once more...

2006-09-25T21:11:00.001-04:00

Every other weekend, Monkey-Moo spends time with her Nana and Gaggpa. That means that Babe & I have a whole 24 hours to ourselves! It goes without saying that first and foremost we sleep in...as late as possible. We then enjoy a tete a tete breakfast...and thereafter go about our day doing whatever it is our child-less hearts desires!

However this past Sunday, we were inspired by the early morning sun to take a quick trip to The Beach area in Toronto, get a breakfast to-go and commune with Mother Earth down at the lake. Ok, I communed...Babe captured families, and kites and dark ominus clouds...and me on film.

These free weekends have been gifted to us for several months and every time they arrive, I flip through a mental-list of all the things that need to get done around our home. Once in awhile though, I stop myself...just in time...to realise that I need these times to myself...I need to recapture me, not mother, partner, miss fix-it, friend, daughter, neighbor...I need to become grounded once more within my own Self.

And this day...I did just that by tossing my shoes off, sinking my toes into the warm sand and stretching into the Sun Salutation pose...all the while inhaling the lake breeze and welcoming the sun's kisses on my skin. Time stood still...and there I stayed...in that timeless place...until I felt my toes once more tap the earth.

Those toes belong now to a transformed woman than those that touched the sand 36 hours ago...a woman who accepts that, although she slips into many shoes throughout her day, there is nothing like the awareness of her bare toes.

We're a dust-bunny reserve

2006-09-20T16:16:00.001-04:00

Earlier this afternoon, Monkey-Moo and I were upstairs playing in our master bedroom (read: she was playing on the floor and I was lying on the bed). I opened one eye in time to see her pull her foot out from under the bed, untwine a dust-bunny from her toes...and promptly put it back!

I, of course, closed my eye quickly...just in case she pulled out a dust-rhino.

I'm no Annie Leibovitz!

2006-09-16T22:14:00.001-04:00

I realized today, afte blog surfing, that it can get pretty boring simply reading blogs without the aided assistance of photos. Since I'm partnered to a photographer, and dabble in it myself, I'm going to start accompanying my posts with related photos.

Now all I gotta do is figure out how to download 'em to my blog! Stay tuned...whomever you are!

Mama Says Om theme: Beauty

2006-09-15T13:31:00.001-04:00

Beauty is...

...tucking Monkey Moo into her bed for an afternoon nap...a 2 hour nap...

...ignoring the housework & laundry, and tucking myself in for a nap...

...waking up after an hour, hearing soft, rythmic breathing coming from her room, and realizing I still have another hour all to myself...

...rolling over to watch the rain trickle off the luscious green leaves of a nearby maple tree...

...and drifting off again...

Another time and place

2006-09-11T23:00:00.001-04:00

I can't let this day end without acknowledging a couple of events that happened 5 years ago that changed my life, as it did many others.

I arrived at work that day, 9:10am, unaware of what had happened to the World Trade Centres in New York City. That's what happens when you don't listen to the news or radio. I spent the next couple of hours in shock with the rest of my workmates, until we were told to go home and be with our families. I had no family in the city, they lived an hour away, so I called them instead. Then I called someone that I had been putting off meeting for seventeen days...

...that's when I met Babe for the first time. We went for lunch at my favorite thai food restaurant and talked about what had happened that morning, what was still happening...and how we were glad to steal away and forget about the rest of the world for awhile...

As I said that was 5 years ago...while the rest of the world remembers the tradgedy of 3000 people dying at the hands of terrorists, I will always remember this day as being a dichotomy of deep sadness for my fellow brothers and sisters...and elation for finally finding the other half of my soul.

*~*Creative Lunacy*~*