Happy New Year

I cannot believe that this year is over. Over? Seriously? How did this happen? I feel as though I blinked and missed all of 2011. I feel like it just flew by. If this is the way that life is going to keep going..I am going to wake up next week and my life will be over.

Which makes my brain go DAGLJHADLGHALDJ.

Basically.

I wish I could sum up my thoughts on the year. But my brain is a little frazzled...so maybe I'll give it a shot in June or something.

Or maybe next week..because my brain fuzz MIGHT be because I'm already done my second glass of wine and it's not even 6pm yet.

Basically what I'm trying to say is... HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Eat lots of good food. Drink lots of good..whatever you feel like drinking..and dance. Even if it's just wiggling your bum from the comfort of your couch.

May you and yours have a healthy, happy and lovely new year.

Also. One last thing. Please be safe. Please please please do whatever you need to do to be safe.

#thatisall

A Winter Walk

Tonight I was dragging myself about trying to do a few things half heartedly while not really doing anything when I looked outside and caught a glimpse of the beauty that is outside.

So I stopped what I was doing, threw on some boots and a coat..grabbed my camera and braved the cold outside to capture a little bit of snow covered beauty as the light faded into cold Canadian winter darkness.

It was the first time that I had felt excited and inspired in such a way that I HAD! TO! DO! SOMETHING! in a REALLY long time.

Way too long.

It was cold. The not-so-mercury was reading about -15 before the windchill. My hands shook from the cold because I was a little bit of a doofus that didn't bring gloves with her. But I wrapped my hands in my sweater, and the grin on my face froze in place as I tried to capture the beauty that exists just outside of my door.

It didn't work as well as I wanted to (got back to find out that my shaky hands made for quite a few blurry blurry photos) but I was still happy in that moment. Just soaking it all in. The beauty of the sun setting. The crisp freshness of new snow. The possibilities. It just renewed my spirit for a moment and gave me hope that good and beautiful things still existed. My entire body radiated with happiness.

Well, my fingers and face aren't exactly speaking with me..but they'll get over it. Eventually. I hope.

The apple trees struck a graceful winter pose. My boots made crisp prints in the untouched woods. The forest transformed into a magical ice castle. The pine trees carried their thick winter coats of snow. The lights of home beckoned me back to warmth.

It was a beautiful walk.

It was a calming walk.

It was a damn cold walk.

..It was a lovely walk.

Tis The Season

I've been struggling this month in a few ways, but the most with having things just not feel right.

It hasn't felt like it's December to me. As though Christmas is upon us and Tis The Season...and all of that other jazz.

I don't know why, but I have not been able to get into it at all. I did my shopping, I bought people gifts...but beyond that? Eh. Just didn't WANNA. I would come up with all of these thoughts and dreams of things I'd do..and then I'd just mope about, doing nothing. Or starting a project..only to discard it moments later.

(Apathy? Nice to meet you. Please feel free to leave whenever you want.)

Today, as I exchanged gifts with my cousins..I was happy..but mostly just because I LOVE to give people gifts. I love watching them open presents that I've picked out for them, the ones I've slaved hours over putting together..or picked out the perfect gift that's just so THEM. I could do without receiving my own gifts..I don't need anything, anything I do need..I can buy myself..but I just really love giving gifts - just because.

I was happy and excited when The Babe opened his presents..when he squeeled with delight over the paper and the boxes (Oh how exciting life is when you're one) and when he opened his big present from me and found that it was a GIANT! BAG! OF! BALLS! his world almost exploded. Trust me, I have it on video - it really really did.

Then we put them in the BALL PIT and ZOMG!! Basically, that kid is never going to leave that thing. Ever again. Seriously.

Even that though? Wasn't what it should have been. It didn't feel real. It didn't feel like Christmas. It just felt...kind of..blank. It just...was. I was happy to watch him...I was happy for him..but still..I don't know.

I then had a low key Christmas Eve with my parents..good food and chats and la de da..but it still wouldn't sink in that it was really Christmas..and my body and my brain just didn't believe me. Didn't..feel right.

It wasn't until I started putting together stocking stuff that I caught a glimpse of that Christmas feeling.

You see - back when I was a wee lass..my Mom decided that we weren't having Christmas that year. We had enough stuff, and she had no time or energy to buy us presents...and told us as much. It was a bad year to begin with...and the months following would be some of the worst of my life..but still..the fear of no Christmas racked my body with anxiety. Not for me, not a big deal for me. I knew that I would get over it, I knew that it would be okay...but my little brother? I knew he wouldn't. Christmas has always been HIS holiday. He has always been the one itching to get the decorations out. Put the tree up. Drink eggnog. Open presents. Whatever it is? If it's Christmas, he has ALWAYS loved it. So when his relatively young self (he must have been around 8 or 9) told me that it was okay if Mom didn't get us any presents, because Santa would..) my heart broke. And my 12 or so year old self went out and carefully spent her life savings on Christmas presents and stocking stuffers from Santa.

That little girl then stayed awake under her blankets with a flashlight and a book until everyone was fast asleep, tip toed downstairs and played Santa.

That morning? When it should have been a fairly eh Christmas? That was one of my favourite Christmas' ever. Because not only was my brother so ridiculously happy, but my parents were baffled. My Mom had freaked out at the last minute, and tried to fill in the gaps of my Dad's frantic attempt to fill the OTHER gaps shopping..but I had filled in the gaps of the gaps...and I watched their puzzled glances back and forth as they found the things that Santa had also left for them under the tree and in their stockings.

To this day...long after my parents have retired for the night..I creep down stairs, flashlight in hand. I top up stockings and add bits and pieces to the presents that are there. I add in the things I know they love, so and so's favourite chocolate and something that is so them I can barely contain myself.

And Christmas morning when we go to open our presents, there is always a comment thrown about 'The Other Santa' - though no one has ever come right out and said anything...and my brother is completely oblivious...and no matter what - it just fills me with this sense of happiness. I'm transported back to being that 12 year old kid who makes people happy - for no reason other than she enjoys happiness.

So as much as it may not feel like Christmas. As much as it seems like it's the weirdest Christmas I've ever had in my entire life (Which is saying a lot..) creeping downstairs with a flashlight and my bags filled with specially chosen goodies for my family?

That got me excited about Christmas. If only for a moment.

I'm hoping for more glimpses of this feeling as Christmas day goes on...One can hope.

Tis the season, after all.

Sticks & Stones Might Be Easier..

I'm trying to be nicer. I'm trying to fix myself. I'm trying to find the person I use to be, the one I want to be. The one who doesn't get lost in the jumble. Who doesn't hate herself at every turn. The one who is kinder, nicer, more. It was my new years resolution last year. To be a better person..and now? Looking back? I don't think that I really accomplished that at all.

I really want the world to be a happier place, to be more kind. To be..better. But it just seems that for some reason..we can so easily lose our tempers. We as a society (myself obviously included) say things to peoples faces and behind their backs that hurt. We don't hurt each other so much with sticks and stones anymore. This is looked down upon and seen as a bad thing - which it is. But we still beat each other up with our words. All of the time.

Where am I going with this? Right. So today I got told that I was a 'lazy bitch' who was responsible for someone elses suffering, among other things.

In other words..It was not a very fun day.

I drove about aimlessly for a good while this afternoon. I sat in my fair share of parking lots, shivering as tears rolled down my face. I drove until I got somewhere, and then I sat and cried and thought about everything until I had stopped crying and could drive again. I did a lot of thinking. These words have run through my head about a million times. Replaying them over and over again. Looking at them. Examining them. Finding the truth in them. Finding the absurdity in them. And then once again finding bits and pieces of truth in them.

I was angry, and sad. I was frustrated. I was confused. I beat myself up and thoughts so horrible ran through my head that I cannot even think of mentioning them here. Which made *me* hate ME..even more.

Slippery slopes spiraling into sadness and sorrow.

(Try to say that five times fast.)

I'm trying to get my head back on straight now, but today was a blow. It just really was. It was eye opening, to see myself for a moment through someone elses eyes. To have my fears realised. Though I have often feared people thinking of me like this - to have someone come out and say it - it really shook me, even though it shouldn't have.  Even though I know that these things were said in anger..and weren't meant to be said...you can't help but wonder how deep the truth in their words run. What they really think of you.

Words? They hurt. Even if they do ring true. Especially when they ring true...so please, try to use them carefully. Even when you want to drive home a point, get someone back or slap someone in the face. Especially when you want to do those things. You have no idea what is happening in their head. In their life. In their little world. You have no idea.

Today I felt like I had been sitting on the edge of a cliff, trying to hang on for dear life..and then someone came along and pushed me over the ledge, without any effort or even knowledge that they were doing so. It took nothing to toss me aside and say things that crumpled the walls I've been working so diligently on building back up.

The bruises from sticks and stones heal, and with time are generally forgotten.

The words eating away at my soul right now?

I'll do my best to fix them...but I don't know how well these wounds will heal.

One Day At A Time..

The last few days have been emotional. 

Emotional. Emotional. Emotional.

I feel like the last...forever...has been emotional..

Ups, downs and all over the places. 

But this morning? When I woke up to the news that my aunt had rushed to hospital in the middle of the night...and then been transferred to a hospital in Toronto with a heart attack?

I kind of lost it.

I screamed and I cried and I LOST MY SHIT. 

I am so tired of my family being sick and in pain and in hospitals. 

It breaks my heart over and over again.

I really have no words. I am just BEYOND tired of it. 

I get that it happens and I get that life isn't fair and I get that it could be a lot worse..but it's just so damn draining when people you care about and love have lives that hang in the balance and all you want to do is bargain with anyone and everyone to make all of the bullshit go away. 

But as things slowly became more clear. As procedures were done and things sorted out..I'm once again grateful because it could have been worse. She's alive and is slowly but surely on the mend as far as we can tell...

But still...it's scary as hell to be reminded just how fragile life is. How cherished it should be. How fast things can change.

As much as today as thrown me for a loop...it's also reminded me that I really do need to be grateful. Among the long drives to and from Toronto. Among the days of not knowing. Of watching people go through tests. Of picking up pieces. Of doling out hugs. I need to be thankful for what I have and the people I have and the things I have. 

Because it means I have people that I love that much in my life. To care about that much. To surround myself with. 

It may not be easy, it may not always be fun. I may get stressed, overtired and emotionally drained.

But all that feeling? That means that I'm here and that there are things worth fighting, loving and living for. 

That's what I need to remind myself of. 

Before I go and try to make the world my bitch. 

..One day at a time. 

Google Needs A Disclaimer. And Less Knives.

I have contracted some sort of weird illness.

I don't even know if illness is the right word.

I have contracted some sort of pain/not feeling right/weirdness. You know...In my body.

Actually. I have no idea if I've contracted it. It could have grown there from some bizarre bacteria. Or been put there by aliens. Or maybe I decided to take up swallowing knives in my sleep so that they can stab me from the inside while I'm in a dream state.

I'm not really sure, but I'm leaning towards the last one because that's what my body feels like since last Friday.

Like I ate a whole bunch of knives and they're jabbing at me and laughing. From the inside.

The pain originally was constant...but then it changed to only being stabbing when I breathed. Now it alternates between OMG I'M GOING TO DIE RIGHT NOW and bearable. It's also mostly in my side but the last day or so the knives pain has been attacking my back too. Sometimes it only hurts when I breathe..just sort of depends on how much my body hates me at any particular moment it seems.

Anyway...so when this started on Friday I clearly did what any rational person would do. I turned to twitter. It was gas they told me, because apparently they all get STABBY GAS PAINS. I don't know what kind of food you guys eat to get stabby knife gas pains, but WHOA dudes, that's KINDA weird.

No? Just me who normally doesn't get gas pains that feels like they've eaten knives?

Moving on.

So it got better and worse and alternated between imma die right now pain and I might not die until tomorrow pain.

After complaining endlessly about how ridiculous it is to turn to Google for anything medical related because OMG IT'S GONNA TELL YOU THAT YOU'RE DYING after a slew of illnesses lately, I clearly did the responsible thing...and since twitter had failed me...I turned to Google.

Where yes, it told me that I was probably dying. Or dead.

It also told me that I might be stressed (no shit, Sherlock), that I could have an ulcer, that I could have a multitude of diseases or disorders - Or that I could have the c word. As in cancer. Which had me a little worried...until the website was sure that I had TESTICULAR CANCER.

Conclusion? Google should come with a disclaimer such as:

Using Google to determine what illness you have may lead 

you to suddenly find that not only have you swallowed 

knives in your sleep, but that you've also changed genders.

Your lack of disclaimer is not cool Google. Not cool at ALL.  

Rose Coloured Glasses

This weekend I ran into an ex best friend. Well, didn't so much "run into" as - glance out of the corner of my eye, not recognise her, and then have her stand DIRECTLY IN LINE BEHIND ME at the grocery store.

WTF, PERSON.

We haven't talked in well over a year, yet you decide that moving to stand in the line where I am purchasing some groceries is a good place to stand?

Hello awkward. Nice to meet you...haven't seen you in a while.

I had no idea what to do. Absolutely no idea. Do I say hello and ask how things are...or do I just pretend I don't see her and walk away. I had no idea. What the hell is the protocol for someone who you use spend all of your free time together, whose friendship ended with a complete cutoff of communication and a whole lotta misunderstandings and hurt feelings on both sides?

What do you do when said person has tried to add you BACK to facebook - and you took a couple of days pondering the idea. To add, or not to add. Did you really want the friendship back? Was it worth all of the drama and BS? Would it be a slippery slope to try and navigate? Was it healthy for you or for them?

And then despite so many people who knew both of you asking telling you to NOT get involved, to walk away, that it wasn't worth it, that it would just spin back into the same problems and nothing would get resolved and things would never change? You sat there desperately wanting to accept the friend request...while at the same time..worrying about all of the implications and the things that could and couldn't be done.

So you decide..what the hell...took a lot of guts for her to do that..might as well at least TRY...talk things out..hash shit out...see if there is even any point in trying..when you realise that she has taken BACK the friend request.

So. Uhhh. I see that you've matured.

Not that I could be in any way what-so-ever to be mature. And I know I'm awful at conflict. And I know I SUCK at confrontation.

But...WHAT? You can even DO that? It had been two days. Adding someone to facebook where I have just over 30 people (and some of those people only out of feelings of obligation) is not something I take lightly. You want to add me to my other account under my real name where I don't post anything EVER? Go for it. You want to add me under the account that I will check with a fair amount of relative regularity and be let into my little personal world...even if I rarely post anything or whatever?

Imma have to think about that.

It's kind of a big deal in my head.

So I stood there. With my groceries. Freaking out.

..And I did nothing. I didn't turn around. I didn't say hello. I walked away.

Because I was scared. And worried. And...totally caught off guard.

Yet every day...I pick up the phone and my fingers run over her number. I type her email address into the 'sender' box in an email and pen the emails in my head that I would write to her if I wasn't such a chicken. I drive down her street on my way somewhere and wonder what they're up to.

And I wonder what if...and I worry what if...my brain spins until it's mush.

I worry about being controlled. I worry about being manipulated. I worry about giving up the things I said I wouldn't let myself give up again. The anger and the frustration and all of those things has dulled..and now I just..am neutral.

But then I put on my rose coloured glasses and  think about all of the things I wish for her and her family. I think about all of the ridiculous things we'd talk about doing. I think about all of our inside jokes and the laughing and the just feeling..comfortable and happy.

And once again...my brain is like a spinning top that never stops twirling.

I'm back where I started...just as confused and lost as ever. 

SO! MUCH! FUN! < INSERT SARCASM HERE >

I am probably the craziest person alive...but I have to admit this.

I...don't like...massages. I like them in theory...but pretty much ends where I like them. Everything about the experience screams "OMGZZZ WHY WOULD YOU DOOOOO THAT?".

Regardless, against my better judgement...today I went for a massage. While I knew I had to because of the constant back pain I've been having thanks to the good old car into telephone pole incident. And, yanno - the chiropractor saying "Hey, you REALLY need to go and do this" - I really didn't want to.

Because it means that people are TOUCHING me.

And not even just..people. But a STRANGER. Who is touching me. While I'm basically naked. With the lights on. AND DID I MENTION THE STRANGER?

So I'm not just (practically) naked, but (practically) naked and (sort of) covered and lying face down on a table.

Which sounds great. In THEORY.

Seems like lying face down would minimize the chances of flashing everyone and their mother.

Little known fact though? Lying face down on a table when you've been blessed by the boob fairy? NOT SO GREAT. Because your boobs act like floatation devices which makes you try and keep your neck (where a great deal of the pain resides) on an upward angle (awkward) or hunched over so it's on the table too (also awkward). And while you're lying on them, they're all - hey! there is WAY too much boob here. Let's go over there. So you're there. Trying to make sure that they (The Boobs) don't pull any tricks on you and suddenly decide to have a mind of their own and flash the world if you move half a quarter of an inch. And by the world I do mean the nice innocent looking woman who had the poor task of having me as her client.

Oh - and did I mention that I'm still in pain pretty much 24/7 from said car accident?

So I'm naked and there is a stranger about to touch my sore aching body and making it hurt more (which I'm told is normal when your back is as screwed up as mine now apparently is) and the woman doing said massage (who, for the record, was very nice) says "Irony is having cold hands when you're a massage therapist" with a chuckle.

Dude. That's not irony. That's just a poor professional choice for me to be on the other end of.

So I'm lying there. Cold, (mostly) naked, and fearful of strangers touching me. I'm trying not to move lest my boobs might spill everywhere (Please don't ask. I really don't know. Some people are afraid of spiders, I'm afraid of my boobs.) (Zip it.) when my nose starts to itch. But I can't scratch it because OMG MY BOOBS REALLY MIGHT SPILL EVERYWHERE. YOU DON'T KNOW THAT THEY COULDN'T. And then Oh-Em-Gee guys...that itch became my EVEREST.

On the upside...it made me focus a little less on the OMG I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD A MUSCLE THERE pain or the NAKED! STRANGERS! AHHH! thinking...and a little more on the ITCHINESS IS THE DEVILS WORK thoughts in my head.

So I'm (practically) naked and (partially) covered with a blanket that feels like it's covering NOTHING, worried about my boobs flashing everyone and their mother if I move slightly, in pain that's non stop, itchy like a bad std on my nose, having cold stranger hands touch my already supremely insecure self when I get the cherry on top - I GET TO DO THIS EVERY WEEK FOR AT LEAST SIX WEEKS to figure out the mess that is body.

No really. What's NOT to love.