2011 is going to be Heaven (compared to the last two years!!)

So we are now into 2011, and so far so good. 

I have been thinking about my blog, and if it is turning out to be what I intended it to be.  I originally decided to start a blog so that I could write down some thoughts and feelings I was having, and also to keep a sort of record of what is happening in my life, where I am, and where I end up.  I never anticipated that it would really go in the direction it has gone, but life changed that.  I never really wanted the blog to be a forum in which to share all the negative things that have happened to me, I actually thought it would be an excellent way to watch the progression of my life and that of my families.  I also have realized that things don’t always turn out the way you think they will.  I have blogged when I felt the need, and when I had something I needed to get off my chest.  I cannot question the direction if I am open to whatever, and where ever I let it take me.

Over the course of the last few weeks several things have come to my attention, which makes me feel the need to share a bit more of my story. I feel that I need to share this, as it is just as important to who I am as anything else, even more so in some respects.  I wish this book was closed in my life, but until all the pages are turned it will never be finished.  I have some more pages to turn.

When I was a child I was abused.  You name the abuse, and I had it done to me.  When I was very young I suffered physical abuse.  As I got older it was not only physical but mental, and sexual.  Most of it happened in my own home, or in homes of family friends.  I suffered things that no child should have to suffer through, and those memories are as clear to me as they would be if they were yesterday.

Okay, so now it is out there.  You know my secret.  When I was in my twenties I began the road to recovery.  I took the steps to find help with all my demons, after being coached by a dear friend whom had just gone through a terrible attack on a train.  With her help and support I entered the scary world of therapy.  During the following two years I learned a great deal about myself, and about what had happened to me.  The overwhelming message was that none of it was my fault, I did nothing wrong, and I had no one to blame but the abusers.  This helped me with the guilt and shame that I felt.  It also allowed me to take back part of my life.  I stopped therapy when I felt I had achieved all the goals I had set, and that that was as far as I could go at the time.  During this time I spent so much of my time dealing with how others felt about my abuse.   Everyone in my life discovered what had happened to me for the first time early on in my therapy, and then I used up so much of my energy dealing with how they felt about it.  I was constantly trying to get people to see what I was going through and that it had nothing to do with them, but for some reason that is not how they saw it.  For the past 20 yrs I have continued to deal with how they feel, leaving my feeling on the shelf.  I tried so hard to explain my position, and how this all affected me, but they wanted nothing to do with that part of it.  This has lead to trying to please others, when I should have been keeping myself safe.  Now that I have my own child I see things differently.

Since having Zeb I have realized things about my abuse that I would never have realized before.  When I look at my innocent child, with endless love and affection to give, I see myself at that age.  I look at him and wonder how anyone could want to knowingly hurt him?  How could anyone want to hit him, call him names and make him suffer daily?  I look at Zeb and I see this spirit that soars into the sky.  He sees the world in wonderment, thinking everyone he meets is his friend, afraid of no one and nothing.  I see him dreaming big dreams, feeling safe from morning to night, and knowing that he is loved and is secure in that.  In so many ways I am jealous of him, he has everything I wanted when I was his age.  He has unconditional love and adoration.  He has a safe place to fall when he has had a difficult day.  He has two very adamant champions that would walk on water to defend him.  He knows he is wanted!  He wakes up in the morning to two people who will be there no matter what, and will make sure he knows it.  He goes to bed feeling safe and secure and with the knowledge that he will be watched out for during his sleep.  He is a lucky boy, a very lucky boy.

There is another side to what I have experienced since having Zeb.  I have come to realize I am not finished with what I have to learn.  I feel afraid for Zeb, everyday!  Things that most parents are comfortable with, I worry endlessly about.  Can I let Zeb go to friend’s homes without going with him?  Can I let Zeb join the cubs, knowing that I will not be there to watch his every move or being one of those mom’s who won’t let him do anything without her doing it to?  When I first put him in daycare I worried endlessly about feeling comfortable leaving him with others for such a long period, so I found one that had one way glass so that I could go and watch what was happening in the room without anyone knowing that I was there.  Sending him off to school was amazingly difficult.  He would be out of my sight for 6 hours and in a school where he would be walking the halls with 8^th graders.  Could I trust strangers to watch him the way I do.  Can I go to a friend’s home and let Zeb play in an area where I am not?  Will someone come into his life, which in a split second can change who he is forever?  These are the things that challenge me daily.  These are the remnants of childhood abuse.  These are the demons that haunt me today.

The other thing that I have learned over the past 20 yrs is that I have a very difficult time making friends and keeping them.  My entire childhood was spent trying to find a safe place to go, where I could spend a lot of time, and not share my secret or have anyone guess.  I had friends mom’s say to my friends, out of what they thought was my ear shot, “why is she here all the time”?  Or “why is no one ever home at her house”?  I was a clingy friend.  I needed to be somewhere all the time, and needed that to feel safe.  That was my security.  I never truly trusted anyone, because so many I had turned out to be abusers.  I kept my distance, not always physically, but definitely emotionally. Later I found that gaining weight kept unwanted people away.  I could go into most places and not be noticed.  I kept myself out of the spotlight as much as I could, and if there was going to be a time when that was not possible I would decline the opportunity.  I loved going to camp every summer.  I went to Forest Cliff camp.  This was a wonderful Baptist camp that through the love of God and good fellowship brought a peace to my life, at least for those two weeks.  Going away for two weeks became my salvation.  I loved every minute I spent there.  The counsellors loved you from the day you arrived, and became your closest ally during those two weeks.  I felt supported, cared for, and truly accepted.  I cried when I had to leave.  The other thing that happened when I was a kid was that I was always looking for a mother.  I would try to find one in every friend’s mothers.  I tried to find one in my pathfinder leader.  I still look for one today.  These were all coping mechanisms; however none of them work when you are 43.  Adults don’t want clingy friends; however I have no idea how to be close friends without smothering.  Adults have their own children; they are not looking for anymore. 

So now the journey begins again.  This year is turning out to be a turning point in my life.  I am going to make some significant changes in my life that may make me feel insecure a bit as it will take me out of my comfort zone, but none the less I must do.  I am going to go back into therapy and learn new coping skills where it pertains to Zeb, so that I don’t pass on my fears to him, but also so that I can cope with what he needs to do to be a well rounded person.  I am going to alter my body, and see what if feels like to not have this physical barrier to keep me safe.  I am going to learn new ways to accept myself and love myself, and how to be a good friend.  I am going to learn what it’s like to be independent of people who enjoy bringing me down, rather than lifting me up.  And I am going to learn that I don’t have to be afraid and worried so much.

I want to make this the beginning point.  In 6 months or 12 months from now I want to look back at this and see where I started.  I will need this reminder so that when I think that I haven’t changed I can see that I have.  I want to be all that I can be; I want to be who I was intended to be the day I was created.

This journey is not going to be easy, and I am afraid of it, but not enough to not do it.  I know I will have to work really hard to achieve my goals, and to see a difference.  I know that I am going to need all the support I can get.  I know that there may be times when I will need the strength of others when I can’t find it in myself.  But most of all I know I can do it, and that I am worth it, and that Zeb needs his whole mom!

I welcome you to join me on the ride.

Change can be as good as a rest.....

It’s Christmas!  Or at least it will be in a couple of days. 

This year my family will be starting what we hope will become a new tradition.  Instead of spending it with a lot of extended family, we are going to enjoy Christmas with just the three of us.  I was afraid of this at first.  I thought we will be all alone, with no family.  I thought we will be so sad.  But something amazing happened. Instead of crying, I felt this amazing weight lift from my shoulders.  I felt for the first time in my life that I was going to be alright.  I realized that I am excited about this.  Having a stress free Christmas is what is should be all about.  I love the idea of the three of us sitting around playing with Zeb’s new toys, staying in our PJ’s for days and bonding.  I love the idea of not fighting with anyone, or feeling that you have everyone else to please, and never really satisfying anyone.  I love the idea that I only have two people to worry about, and they are so easily pleased.  I hope in time we will be able to add some more to this tradition, maybe including others that might be without family during this time of year.  I hope that we can raise Zeb with the idea that this is a warm, loving time of year.  I hope that Zeb will grow up with only happy thoughts about his Christmas celebrations. 

So much has changed, and so quickly.  Once again I am faced with family that can’t recognize how they hurt others, and would rather die than admit to what they do to others.  Why is saying you’re sorry is so hard. 

I remember reading in the “Final Lecture” that there are three stages to saying you are sorry.  Imagine that, it is never as simple as just saying you are sorry!!  The first is to say you are sorry “I am sorry I pushed your child out of anger”.  The second is to take responsibly, “I am sorry I pushed your child in anger, I was tired and needed to go to bed and he didn’t deserve that from me”.  Third, try to make up to the injured party, “What can I do to make this up to you?  What can I do so that you feel safe with me around your child again”?  This three step procedure can be used with any action that you may need to apologize for.  We all do things we are sorry for, that should not have happened, or that we wish we could take back.  I know I have many times, but you know what. I am the first to say I have done wrong.  I couldn’t sleep if I had hurt someone and did not make a sincere apology to them.  I am blessed to have the people in my life, and I would never want to lose them over a mistake.

I did not get an apology for what happened to Zeb, or for what happened to me after I yelled at the person who hurt Zeb.  What I got was the responsible party telling me it didn’t happen.  I was told that I did not actually see this adult (my father) push my son so hard that he landed 3 to 4 feet away from where he was.  I was told that Zeb was not telling the truth, and that the fact of the matter is that Zeb slipped on his socks and fell.  I was also told that I owed my father an apology for writing what I did in my blog, as it was not true and that I only remember the bad.  I am not saying anymore about this, as I know any reasonable person will understand that I do not need to.

What I have realized during all of this is that I need to stop going back to those who do things like this.  I am way too old to deal with abusive people, and I for one am not interested in supporting the abuser by overlooking it.  My whole life the abuser has been defended, and the victim left out to dry.  Why is that?  Seems our society needs to find fault with those who complain or want to shake the boat.  That boat was built and driven by abusers, and we need to just shut up and take it, or get off the boat!  I have heard more than one story recently about people who have done good things and been rewarded for that with bad behaviour!

 

Oprah makes a great point about childhood sexual assault.  She says that society can’t decide if it’s wrong or right.  Seems as a society it is wrong, as long as it happens to your child by a stranger......hang him!!  If it is between your daughter and your husband, well slap his wrist cause I need him to bring home the bacon.  If it happened 30 yrs ago, and you never mentioned it until you were an adult, well let’s just forget about it, because it’s been too long.  Oh and if it happens between a brother and a sister, well I can’t choose one child over the other, so let’s forget it even happened, and if she can’t be in the same room as him, well she can just stay at home.  This is why Oprah says we can’t decide if it’s wrong or right (or at least not as bad as the victim makes it sound).  For me, someone who has been abused since I was a little girl, in so many ways, it’s all wrong.  There is no grey area, and anyone who hurts someone else should be punished.  Simple!!  I didn’t do that for myself over the past 20 yrs.  I keep going back for more, out of obligation, out of guilt.  Seeing it happen to your child changes everything.  You realize just how sick it is, and how none of it can be tolerated.

I am 43 yrs old.  I have tried for 18 yrs to try to fix me, and my family.  I have tried to get those who say they love me to actually put that word into action.  I have tried to bring us closer by acknowledging our problems, and work together to fix them.  I did not succeed.  My brother won.  He wanted my parents to himself since he was 5 yrs old (when I was born) and now he has it his way.  I don’t want to fix it anymore.  There is too much to fix.  What I want to do is fix me, to do the work to move past all the garbage and be happy.  I live with two people who love me, and put that word into action daily.  I am lucky as so many people like me go out of the frying pan and into the fire.  I was able to go from the frying pan into loving arms.

I am happy to stay here!  I am happy, soon to be healthy and for the first time in my life I feel a weight off my shoulders.  Everything happens for a reason, and although it was painful for Zeb to get pushed across the room, we are so much better off, and I am not sure I would have realized it if that didn’t happen.  Thank you!!

Merry Christmas all!!  May your days be merry and bright, and may the love in your life surround you like a blanket and keep you warm and safe!!  Squeeze those you love, and don't let go!

Women Food and God

Weight........drives me crazy!! I can't seem to get past this lifelong problem.

I was alone a lot when I was a kid. Both parents worked, and when I would come home from school I would get some food and hide out in my bedroom. That was the safest thing for me to do, I needed to stay away from Mr evil!! (Someday I will explain Mr evil, but not now).

Food became my friend and I got a really good payout.....the heavier I got the less attention came my way. Yes it meant that I might be teased, bullied or ignored, but that was so much better than the alternative. Was this a conscious choice, no, I had no idea what I was doing back then, but after years of trying to figure it all out, that is the why and how of it. Why is it that I can't stop now that I know??

Anyone with a weight problem knows this is something that picks at you everyday. It eats away parts of you, and you know this is happening but it just seems to be a cycle that goes around and around. I gain weight, I get depressed, I eat to make myself feel better, I get even more depressed and on and on and on.

Since Zeb was born I have had periods of life where I got a handle on it. I could manage to control what went in and what went out. I have watched the scale go down, and then right back up. This is the story of my life. I don't need food to keep me safe anymore, I have lots of things that make me happier than eating, yet I am still doing this to myself. I don't think I have a desire to die, but that is exactly where I am heading if I can't take control of this. I want to look and feel good, but yet the food still goes in my mouth. I don't want Zeb's friends to tease him because his Mom is fat, but yet I still feed it. I have no idea why I can't give this thing up?

I was never one of those people who could have some of something. If it was donuts, I needed two or three, if it were chocolate bars, I needed more than one. If it were cake, well I would eat until it was gone if I could. So many times my mother would buy these things, and so many times I would just keep going back until it was all gone. It would call my name, literally. I would be in my bedroom, knowing that there were donuts in the cupboard, and I would just fixate myself on them. It was my drug of choice, still is. I am always chasing my first high, and no matter how much I eat I am never satisfied.

This year I feel is the year to change things. Up until now I have always done the exact same things and expected a different outcome each time. This year that is changing. Instead of dieting I am going to figure out my triggers, what makes me eat, and why I am so fixated on it. I am going to walk down paths I have not tried, study more, learn what I can about my addiction and see if I can get a handle on why I do the things I do. Part of that process is reading the book Women Food and God.

I heard on an episode of Oprah that this book changed the way Oprah felt about food. That it gave her an understanding on why she eats what she does, and shows her how to eat to stay alive, rather for just enjoyment.

I started reading it last night, and I have hope that this just might open my eyes to why I do what I do. I am going to post about this throughout this journey and I hope you will follow it with me. Your drug of choice my not be food, but what might help me, might help you too.

Here's to the journey!!

Run for the Cure

I am in no way a really big fan of Dr. Phil. I used to watch him when he was on Oprah, but I have never actually sat through one of his own shows. Having said that I have found a couple of the things he has said in the past has made me think. One of those things is that there are five pivotal points in your life that form who you become. I have thought about that statement for several years, and I do know that he might be right. I have discovered some of those points, but I can't say for sure I have discovered all five.

One of my pivotal points happened when I was pretty young, maybe 10 or 11. I was out and about with my Grandmother, as we usually did whenever we were together. She was a very active member of the St. Marys Friendship Center. She enjoyed the people there and she spent a great deal of her time driving members to and from the center as it was full of senior citizens who didn't drive, or no longer drove. On this particular day I remember walking into the center with her for my first time. It was a big plan building that I had seen my whole life and never been in, and I was surprised at how nice it was inside. They had spent lots of time decorating and making that ugly cement building look homely and comfortable. There were places to sit with a group and play cards, there was a piano for a impromptu sing-song, there were games and couches and it all looked very welcoming. After being in the building a few minutes out came this friendly woman who had a look of busy on her face, but was eager to wrap her arms around my Grandmother in welcome. My Grandmother introduced us, and I remember thinking what a nice lady, my Grandmother knows so many really nice woman. I did not know what impact this woman was going to have on my life at the time, but this meeting would mark one of the pivotal points in my life.

A few years later, just before my Grandmother was in her accident that would take her life, a friend of mine asked if I might be interested in joining a group. She explained it was a group called Pathfinders, and that I might enjoy it. I thought why not, my Monday nights were free, and it did sound like some fun, so I agreed.

I remember the first time I went to a Pathfinder meeting, I was a little nervous but excited and was glad to be doing something fun with my friend. I remember walking into the hall at the Church where the meetings took place and seeing alot of familiar faces milling around. It was fun knowing I was going to belong to such a group and I instantly felt welcome. As I was glancing around the room I discover a face that I had seen a few years earlier, that being the woman who ran the Friendship Center. I didn't remember her name, but I recognized her. She smiled when we walked in, and quickly came towards us welcoming us. She quickly called the group to order, and introduced herself. She started by saying "My name is Elizabeth Pearson, and you may call me Elizabeth or Mrs. P, whichever you prefer." She than had us go around the table introducing ourselves. I always hate this part of any new group, as I don't really like the spotlight, but I know it's what is expected so I always go along. I introduced myself and she followed that with, "oh any relation to Edna Fulcher?" I said "yes, my Grandmother" when she quickly responded with, "oh I do hope she recovers quickly and is back to herself soon, as she is a dear friend." She then told the group what had happened to my Grandmother, and gave me their very best. The meeting went on as planned and I had a great time. A couple of weeks later, after my Grandmother died, the talk around that table was so different. Elizabeth explained to the group what my Grandmother meant to her, and how she was going to very missed by her, and the whole community. This brought tears to my eyes, as I was still getting used to the idea of never having her in my life again. But at the same time those tears came, I also felt such pride that that was my Grandmother Elizabeth was talking about, and knew I came from greatness.

Over the course of the next four years this lady was going impact my life like no one had since my Grandmother.

One Monday night we arrived at the Pathfinder's meeting and were all asked to sit at the table for a talk. The other leader was there that night alone, Elizabeth was absent. Mrs. Davis explained to us that Elizabeth had been diagnosed with breast cancer and was going to have to endure many painful weeks of chemo and radiation and since her daughter was away at University and her son was home alone with her she was going to need helpers to come in once a week and help her with the tasks that she was not going to be able to do. I immediately volunteered as well as another girl named Sheri. I knew by volunteering I was going to have to make sure I was there every week, and I also knew that this was something really scary for me, but I did it anyway. Sheri and I decided that we would go by every Thursday night after school together and work until we finished what she needed done.

At first this was scary, but after a couple of weeks things calmed down and I settled into the weekly visits. Sometimes we would arrive and she would have a list of thing for us to do. We would get busy vacuuming or ironing or whatever else she might want us to do and then we would be on our way, but other times all she wanted us to do was sit and talk. I enjoyed these nights the most. Those nights that we sat and talked were like no talks I had ever had with anyone up until that point in my life. Elizabeth was going through a great deal physically, and also mentally. It was a hard thing to look death in the eye and keep fighting. There were days I'm sure that she was not sure she was going to win, and it was those days that she needed to get some of that out in the open, just to take them off her shoulders. She would talk about how scared she was, how she was afraid of what would happen to her children, to their life, how she had had great plans and needed the time to do the things on her list, how she felt that she was running out of time. She also talked about how precious life is, and how we should never take one day for granted. How we should cherish the people in our lives and not let time go by without them knowing how we felt about them. She shared how a hug can change any situation, and a kind word could change the outcome for some people. She loved life, she was going to fight, and she was planning on having a long and very fulfilling one. She was in a great deal of pain, and felt very unsettled most of the time, but no matter how she felt she was always welcoming and glad to see us. I know it must have been difficult for her some days to even get up off the couch, but she always walked us to the door and wrapped her arms around us before we left. Each week we all became closer and closer to each other, Sheri and I even became close friends in the process. Some nights after leaving Elizabeth's home Sheri and I would talk all the way home, and stand on the street corner for another hour talking endlessly about ourselves, or dreams, our feelings. I really made two very close friends through this process.

Eventually Elizabeth got better and no longer needed those weekly visits to do work, but she wanted to continue seeing us so we all promised that we would come by often and have some tea and catch up. And we did. The years that followed were like any other years, filled with good things and bad and Elizabeth walked along with us through it all. She had become my second mother, and I valued her so much in my life. My relationship with my own mother had been a less than perfect one, something I may touch on in another entry, she and I had never been close. Elizabeth filled in the gaps for me, she gave me the encouragement I lacked, she cared for me like only a mother can do and she supported my dreams without judgement. She took a very active role in my life and would until I was well into my 20's. I don't know what I would have done without her.

I am not sure if anyone really knows fully what we bring to others, even if those speak of it often. I am not sure if Elizabeth ever knew what she was to me. Her presence in my life certainly made me a better person, I wanted to be better for her. Her words of wisdom directed me down roads I would not have likely travelled if it weren't for her guidance and support. Her positive attitude and desire to achieve made me want to do the same with my life, and her devoted, caring heart made me a better friend.

We helped each other thought the death of her son, through my college years, through the breakup of her relationship with her boyfriend of almost twenty years, through countless disappointments, celebrations, birthdays and Christmas'. I remember on her 48 birthday filling my bedroom with more than 60 balloons and in the middle of the night attaching them to her front porch. The next morning I showed up on her doorstep to all those balloons and she said, it was you that did this. I told her I had and she said "it's not a special birthday, I am only 48" and I said every birthday is special after what you have had to endure. These were the things that built the foundation of one of the most meaningful relationships I ever had or ever will have. She was my foundation.

14 yrs after being diagnosed with breast cancer, cancer came back to call her name. This time it was in the lungs, and this time it was going to be a harder battle. She tried her very best, but did not win this time. She was never alone for one minute in that battle as I was just one of hundreds of women who battled right along with her, praying daily for her to be successful, praying that she would come back to the life she loved, but that was not what was in store for her.

Her name is Elizabeth Person, but I will always call her my friend.

For all of those who ran in the Run for the Cure today, I applaud you. For all those who struggle through this terrible, unforgiving disease, my heart and prayers are with you. For those of you who have loved ones enduring this disease, I ask that you be with them, support them, and give them a hug from me and Elizabeth.

Am I crazy??

I don't understand people sometimes. Some of the things they do just drives me insane. I have to wonder where they came from, and more importantly where we are going. I am not one to complain, but I need to know if I am the only one that feels this way. I guess for you to know if you are like me, you need to know what I am talking about. Okay so here are a few things that I just have to rub my head and think, am I the only one who thinks this is crazy.

I can't understand why anyone would want to go around all the time complaining?? I don't get why you find the bad in absolutely everything?? This is not how it really is, so why is it that there are people out there that just focus on the terrible, and feel the need to pass that on your way when you are kind enough to give them time. It drives me nutty when people are on facebook everyday, and insist on complaining about everything and everyone. Is that what facebook is for? Do we need to hear how you hate the sun, the rain, the clouds, the way the cat eats, the way your spouse breaths in at night, the way your son smiles?? I don't care if that is the way you feel, I just don't know why you feel the need to share that with everyone on the news feed.

The other side of the coin is those that tell you constantly that everything in their lives is perfect! No ones life is perfect, at least no one I have ever met. I can understand that there are those who feel the need to focus on the positive and not on the negative, but the people who don't put any thought or consideration on the negatives are the ones who I don't get. For me, if you are someone I would be telling things to, I want to be real. The good the bad and everything in between are important, and if I am going to share with you you are going to get it all.

I can't stand women who for some reason decide that when they get married all of a sudden they can't make a decision about anything without checking with their husband first. It's like the minute they got married they all of a sudden stop being an independent woman, and become just a follower of her husband. I know of a woman who before she was married was a happy go lucky female with a group of friends and a willingness to have a very social life. After she got married her friends couldn't come by anymore, not without arranging it in advance and having it approved. That woman has given up everything that made her her, and is now just a reflection of her husbands face. What he likes doing is what we do, where he wants to go is where we go, if he hates it so do I, if he says no it's no. I don't understand anyone who would want to do that to themselves, but more importantly I don't know why you would marry a person because of who they are and then change everything about them so that their only purpose on the earth is to please you. Am I crazy to think that?? Maybe that's the feminist in me.

I don't understand people who go around talking about others and those that they talk to first, believe everything they are being told without giving a benefit of the doubt, and that they think that the people who talk to them about others aren't talking about them to everyone else. Gossip is a dangerous thing, and gets everyone into trouble eventually. I know this from experience. There was a time when I was drawn into a group of people who's sole purpose on earth was to talk about each other, to each other. They would get you alone, and talk all about person A and then go to person A and talk all about what you told them. It was a never ending circle. The thing about this is you sometimes get caught up in it, even when you are really not that type of person. I know I did. I know I said things to people that I should never have shared, and that I have been told things I should never have told to others, but it's like this uncontrollable force, making you go along with the crowd. I am grateful I am no longer in any sort of crowd like that, and that I have learned my lessons.

I don't understand people who go around hurting others just because they can. You know the ones, those that never out grew high school and continue to act like they did back then. I have been witness to grown women going about things like they were still in high school. They resort to lying rather than getting caught up in their passive aggressive behaviour. I had someone use my son to get back at me. She decided to put my kid in a room at daycare under the supervision of someone I said I didn't want him to be with on Valentines day, during the time the kids were opening their treat bags. My son did not have one in that room to open. This as you can imagine made my kid cry. This was told to me by the worker who's room my son was sent to, and she only told me because she said she felt bad for Zeb to have to sit there while every other child were opening up their candy and he had none. This all happened because I reacted to something that she had done a couple of weeks earlier and she didn't like my reaction. The crazy thing is that when I found out what had happened and questioned her about it, she told me that I had been told a lie by the other person and that that other person was just trying to cause problems. For one minute I believed her, but then I went and checked the attendance record and found out that it was not a lie, and the attendance record didn't lie. What shocked me the most is this was someone who I considered a good friend and that her explanation for the situation was that other worker was trying to cause problems.....when it was her that was trying to cause the problems. I have a hard time understanding people who would choose to hurt a child rather than address how they were hurt. I don't get it??? Maybe it's just me.

People who go through life thinking that they are perfect and no one else out there has any importance at all. I have come across so many people like that. The theatre world is full of people like that. They give so little care for others that they actually think that whatever they do, and whatever they say are so profound that we should all sit back and be in awe of them? Give me a break. No one is above anyone in my world, and I think going through life never giving to others will come back and bite you. Why are there so many of them??

I can't handle women who tear down other women. This seems to be so prevalent that it's scary. I am a woman who always takes the woman's side, who lifts them up, and wants women to be all that they can be. I feel that all women should encourage other woman, why wouldn't we, doesn't it affect all of us. If one of us is successful, don't we all reap the benefits of that? I don't think men are bad or evil, I just feel that men hold us down, and if we don't work together to stop this we will never be equal. I worked for a man who paid people all different amounts no matter how long you had worked for him. I saw men, who did the same job as me afford homes, raise families, and not seem to struggle at all. I on the other hand couldn't afford rent and a car payment, and forget about ever going out to dinner or to a movie with a friend. Forget about cable, or telephone. This is the way he ran his business. If you were female, which the majority were that worked there, you just would be put aside and the men made all the advancements. I didn't work there long, but still feel for those women who do. This is one of the reasons why I love unions!!

What ever happened to helping out others. I offer to help whenever I see the need arise, and there are times when I think the people I am offering it to think I'm crazy. Helping others has become so rare that we judge people who do it. There was a time when we all worked together. When it really did take a village to raise a child, now it's mind your own business and keep your distance. Neighbours don't help neighbours anymore. People just take care of their needs and don't think of others. The other thing I have noticed is that people are much more likely to help others by means of charities or giving money to causes, but if someone they know needs help they are reluctant to do it. When we hear about someone who is suffering from some major illness and they need money for treatment we are more than willing to pull out the dollars to help. When we hear about a family who have lost everything because of a fire, and they have no insurance we are eager to get stuff together to give them, along with our cash. But if you hear about a friend or family member who is having a hard time financially, we think well we are all having a hard time, and don't do anything to help. I live my life in a way that I would give my last penny if it would help someone, and have many times. I don't wait for someone to ask me for help, I offer whenever I think the need might be there. Isn't that the way it's suppose to be? I thought we were all for one, and one for all. I thought we were humans, who cared about each others survival on this earth. There was a time when families used to live together, two or three generations so that they could help each other. My father was raised in a home where his grandparents lived with them. This was so that his grandparents could receive help from their children and grandchildren, and they contributed their home so as to reduce the expenses of their kids. Some groups of people still do that. Have you ever wondered why most of the convenience stores are owned by people from the middle east or Asia, because they help each other get into it....so they all prosper. Chinese families still all live under one roof, so that there is always someone home for the children and so that the aging parents have financial security provided by their children. There are large organizations that form together to help their people, such as the Italians and Dutch. They work together for the better good of all. Look at the Amish people. They still live in a world where the village works together to raise the children and to make the money needed to farm the land and make their lives better. If a fire burns down an Amish barn, in two days a new one is built. If someone looses a child, the entire community gathers to pay their respects and provide food and hands to do chores. This is the way it used to be in all sects of society... I for one wish it was still like that.

These are just some of the things I wonder about, wish were different, and wish I could change. I can't change how others feel or behave, but I can change what I do. I will raise Zeb to offer help whenever he sees it might be needed. To open doors to those walking around him. To help someone who has fallen and could use a hand. To treat others how he wants them to treat him. And above all to be kind in every word and action. That is what I can do to change the world, how about you??

Fall

Fall is the most beautiful season, at least I think so. I love it when the morning are crisp and cool, and the sun shines down on the gradually changing leaves. It makes me feel warm, and like I'm home.

When I lived in Houston Texas there were no really distinct colour changes or marks of season's changing. The temperature began to lower as the we went from October to November to December, but sometimes that wasn't even much of a change. I missed the leaves, and the snow. I missed having that romantic feeling when Halloween came around, of hearing the leaves blowing in the wind as you walked down the dark streets. I missed the smell of burning leaves on lazy Saturday afternoons, and I missed the gradual change into winter.

Fall brings about a feeling a melancholy to me as well, I don't know why. Maybe it's the end of summer, maybe its that you see so much fading away, maybe it just me. Whatever the cause it comes every year like an old friend. I have learned to embrace it, and let it lead me.

This year I am thinking a great deal about the people in my life that I have lost. Some by death, others by situations or moves, or just plan moving apart. I wonder sometimes did I touch these people as much as they touched me? Do they think of me with fondness, as I do them, or am I just a faded memory somewhere in the recess of their minds. All the people who have come into my life have come for a reason, I know that. I have changed with every one, and learned from each. They all make up who I am today, and what I have become. I am grateful for every one of them, and I hope their names stay on my lips for the rest of my life.

A couple of years ago I had the opportunity to make a friend with someone who became one of those special friends. You know the ones where when you get to know each other it's like you already know them, like you've met before. This friend was one of those. She was one of my son's pre-school teachers.

I was nervous about putting Zeb in pre-school, but I knew it was the right thing for him. He needed socialization, and structure and was not getting either at home. I fought it all along the way, but I followed my head instead of my heart. Damie and I toured the facility several weeks before finally putting Zeb in. While we were on the tour we met a woman who was one of the teachers there. She was sitting on the floor holding a child when we walked in, and there she stayed. The director explained that this room would be one of the two possible rooms that Zeb would be enrolled into, and showed us around. It was nice in the classroom, the children seemed entertained, and the staff seemed attentive. While we were standing there the teacher on the floor said, I want him in my room. I guess she liked what she saw in Zeb...and I felt like this was the place instantly. A few weeks later he started. As the weeks went on I felt more and more comfortable with him there, and with the staff. Everyday when we went to pick him up we would have a little conversation with his teacher, and see how his day went. Soon the conversation moved to more personal things, and less about the day. After a couple of months we were not only talking each day at the school, but emailing regularly. We always seemed to have things to talk about, and it was so interesting getting to know her. I feel like we had known each other for years, and that we were kindred spirits as Anne would say, from Anne Of Green Gables.

I hadn't had any close friends for years. There were lots of reasons for that, mostly because I moved to a country where I was not a citizen of, and also I had been wrapped up in the new relationship I was in. I had some friends that had followed with me over the years, but they had grown apart as some due to life changes. This new friendship was very exciting for me. I felt like I finally belonged. When I came out of the closet I lost friends, and thought I had to give up on having regular friendships. I thought my life would revolve around the gay world and only the gay world. While living in Houston I did live completely in the gay world, and I didn't like it much. The lifestyles were not like mine, and finding people like me was impossible. Then when we had Zeb, I thought how do I create a life for him without living completely in the gay world. I didn't think it was going to be possible. And than this friendship started and I felt that we could provide a world for Zeb where he could have the best of both worlds.

Not only was this friendship important to me, but my whole family. Zeb had formed this amazing bond with her, one that surprised me in some ways. Zeb always had a way of drawing people in, but the two of them interacted in a way that I just had never witnessed before. This also made being friends with her just that much more important to me. I wanted him to have her in his life forever. Damie liked her a great deal too, and enjoyed including her in our lives. We got to know her family, and grew close to her daughter, who would become our babysitter. I was so happy with how it all was working out. We were so thrilled with this new friendship we asked if we could take them to New York with us for 4 days, as we were going to spend a few days there before heading out on a cruise. They accepted and we were so happy. The trip to New York was wonderful, we all had such a great time. Those 4 days really pulled us all together, and they seemed more like family to us than just friends. I will never forget those days. As the months went on our friendship grew closer, and more comfortable and then it started to cause problems for her at home. We had gotten too close, taken up too much of her time and it was causing a strain. I didn't see the damage it was creating, I just was in my happy world at the time. Then there came a day when it all came crashing down. To this day I have no idea really what happened, but I do know it hurt me very deeply. If felt like I had lost a sister, and Zeb lost his third mom.

A couple of years have gone by now. We don't really talk or anything anymore. She seems to need me to stay away, and I don't want to be somewhere where I will cause her trouble. I miss her terribly, and think of her all the time.

This time of year is hard, as it reminds me of her. I hope someday I will make a friend like that again. I wonder if she thinks of me with fondness, or if I am just a reminder of a friendship gone bad? I hope that when she thinks of me she smiles, as that's what happens to me when I think of her.

Family

If you have a family that is more supportive than dysfunctional, consider yourself lucky. Many of us come from families that are for the most part supportive units that when the going gets rough they come out and pitch in. Other's are not so lucky. I come from a very dysfunctional one.

Recently a member of my extended family passed. This was the only aunt on my fathers side. Although she was my god mother, we really had no relationship, and if we ever did it was when I was very small. Our families used to get together when my Grandmother was alive, as my father and his brother were the only children she had. I remember my cousins coming from Toronto a couple of times a year, for one special occasion or another, and we all seemed to interact without difficulty. This all changed when my Grandmother died.

My Grandmother was my hero. Before her death she was the closest person I had in my life. I was the only grand daughter she had out of the eight grandchildren, and this alone made me special in her eyes. She used to introduce me to her friends that way, "this is the one and only granddaughter I have, and she sure is special." This always made me feel important, and that created the bond that the two of us had. I enjoyed everything about her, everything we did together was special and I looked forward to every minute I got alone with her. She was the curator of the museum in my home town, actually one of the founders. She loved that sort of thing. Her knowledge of the past, and the history of our town was a great passion with her. This also included a passion for discovering family history. The summer between my fifth and sixth grade she decided to take a trip, along with her cousins, to Europe to research and maybe even meet some of our family. This was a trip she planned and looked forward to for months. She asked my parents if she could take me, but they declined the offer. Their reasoning was that I was too young to appreciate a trip like that, but little did they know. I would have loved going anywhere with her. I remember when she returned how excited she was to tell us all about her discoveries along with who she met and what she saw. She was so happy. Later that same year tragedy struck my family when one morning shortly before noon my grandmother was hit by a truck in the downtown core of my home town and died from those injuries three weeks later. This even crashed my world, and to this day I have not totally gotten over it. I regret not seeing her in the hospital during those three weeks, but the rules than were that no family under 16 could go into the ICU. Stupid rule if you ask me, as I know from experience that you need that time to prepare and say what you need to say. I was not given that opportunity. I don't think I ever expressed to her in words how I felt about her, but I know in my heart she knew.

The more tragic part of this story is what happened after her death.

My uncle was a man who lived a different kind of life than we did. He worked his way through University at a time when that was very difficult and had become an engineer. This made my grandmother very proud of him, and she didn't have any problem sharing that pride she had for him with others. My Uncle grew up thought the great depression, and knew what it felt to be poor, beyond poor. I think that is what lead him to achieve an education that would afford him the life he dreamt about all those years before. He married a woman who came from great wealth and together they lived a happy prosperous life in Toronto.

After my Grandmother died my Uncle forced us all to be involved in a law suit against the company that owned the truck that hit her. He wanted us to sue them for wrongful death, which at that time no one had ever been successful at in a court of law. We all had to go to court and get up on the stand and testify about the relationship we had with my Grandmother. I remember thinking, what is this going to do, but did what was asked of me anyway. That hearing lasted a couple of days, and then it was left in the hands of the court.

While all that was going on, there was a war brewing between my father and his brother. When my Grandmother was first put into the hospital after her accident my Uncle gathered her belonging from the hospital, as they wanted to make sure they were in safe keeping. Included in that was some personal item including her wedding and engagement rings that her husband had given her. My Uncle took her belonging and never spoke about it, until he was asked after her funeral. It was a known fact that those rings were to go to my mother, who would eventually give them to me as I was the only Granddaughter. As well as the rings, my Grandmother also had an antique sway oil lamp that was to go to my Uncle. We all knew this, but for some reason my Uncle decided that was not the way it was going to be. He kept the rings and when my father asked for them, and told his brother that he got his lamp so therefor we should get the rings, my Uncle mailed a similar lamp to my father. This was what he felt was fair and equal. My parents did not feel that way, but it wasn't until my Uncle came into the store my Mother owned at the time yelling and screaming that they cut all ties with my Uncle. This caused a split in our family for several years, and by the time it was mended I was grown up and not around when visits from the Toronto family took place.

Now my Aunt has died, and my Uncle is left alone. He was married to her for 60 yrs, and really can't remember life before her. It must be a sad thing to have to go through. You would think that from this he learned what it means to have your loved ones close, and to Cherish every minute. But that is not the case with my Uncle.

My Aunt, who brought great wealth into the marriage wrote her own will. Now Ontario law states that her will means nothing if she is survived by her husband, but nonetheless she did try to make her feeling known about the things she felt were hers to decide on. My Uncle will hear nothing of it, and rather than give his kids the money his wife wanted to have has gone are hired a lawyer to stop any of it from happening.

I feel sorry for people like that. Ones who feel that what they have is so much more important than who they have. I don't think God cares what toys you have or how big your bank account is when you go home. I truly believe what matters is who you were and what you left. This is a lesson my Uncle has never learned and I really don't think at 86 is going to learn anytime soon.

I don't care about material things, and I never had. My Uncle could take those rings and keep them for all I cared, what I had was so much more important and more valuable than anything she could have left me. The memories I have of her, the time we spent together, and the was she shaped me into the person I am today is what I value and no one can take that away.

I hope anyone reading this does not wait until it's too late to realize it's the people sitting in those seats that count when you reach the end. I hope that more people can learn it's not what you take from this world that makes you successful, but what you give back.

This type of behaviour I am glad to say ends with my generation. I am raising my son to respect others, and cherish the time we have. It's not what he has that's important, it's the memories we make that will last forever.