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Ramblings by Category

Ramblings by Year

missing: me, myself, and I

T Swift Lyric

Sometimes a lyric deeply resonates with you. You hear it and your entire world stops. The only thing you know is, “This. This is exactly what I feel but I couldn’t put words to it.”

And it’s amazing how much can change in a decade. And it’s strange what dates we cling to as we keep track of time. Some people have said I should let go of these dates, but I can’t. I don’t want to. They are a reminder of how much of the battle I have fought, and not lost.


Ten years ago today, I was 30. I had just been offered a new job a couple of days prior. Our apartment burned down in the evening.

Ten years ago. So much has happened since then. So many changes. I’m still in the same job I had just been offered. I’m now 40. I own a house.

We didn’t lose anything important in the fire. Shawn was home when the flat above us went up in flames. He was able to get out with the dogs. I came home early from work. We watched firefighters battle the blaze for over 4 hours. We didn’t know where we’d live.

But it worked out. We survived. We got stronger.


Three years ago today, the sky came crashing down.  It has taken me a long time to realize that my trauma from this event isn’t just seeing a life end in front of me, in one of the most gruesome ways I can imagine, but also that it was because I could have died. Had I not stopped suddenly, that man would have landed on top of me, and I would not have walked away from this at all. Therapy helped me realize, and begin to deal with this.

My life did not end that morning, three years ago. I might have flash backs and panic attacks, and think I can feel something on me that I need to desperately clean off, but I survived.

The past three years have not been easy. I think a person can only be so strong. And I think experiencing something like this changes a person. Not always right away, and it can be subtle, but there’s change in a person.

There is change in me. I am not the same person I was before 8am on March 27, 2013. I am not. What wide-eyed innocence I still had within me, I think is gone.  I don’t trust the world. I don’t trust the city.

Sometimes I worry I have lost my ability to trust ever again.

And mostly, I don’t know where my old self went. I’m not saying I wish I could always stay the same, because that’s not what I want. I want back the parts of me that scattered when the sky fell. I want the parts of me that still believed in whimsy, and magic, and innocence to come back.

I am no longer enjoying things I used to enjoy with my entire being. I hardly read anymore. I don’t seem to be able to find joy in much of anything. I am acting out of character in many ways, and I’m so very tired of…well, almost everything.

I have done so much work within myself, and I know there’s more to do. But I am tired. I am an expert on all things ME. I know myself inside, and out. I am so in tune with my entire being that I can’t tune it out.

I have come such a long way in ten years. I have come even further in the past three years. But somewhere since 2013 I lost parts of myself that I don’t think I will ever get back, and my heart breaks over that loss. Because I was finally starting to like ME. I was finally comfortable being myself.

And now, I don’t know who I am anymore. So much of me has changed. I don’t show it to the world. I don’t tell it to the world. I just know. I know myself well enough to know that who I am, who I was, who I have been, is different.

I have a lot more work to do as I try and figure myself out. What do I like? What do I love? What do I want to do? How much do I want to change, and how much do I want to bury deep down inside?

I didn’t die the day the sky fell, but I shattered into a million pieces, and some of those piece are still lost.


There’s a major, major fire happening down the street from us. I first noticed the smoke out of the corner of my eye through the back door around 4:30pm this afternoon. At first I thought it was a dark storm cloud but then it moved super fast and got bigger. So we went out, around the corner and tried to find the source. It was all just SMOKE. Huge, dense clouds of smoke, yet we couldn’t smell anything. Not a thing. We couldn’t get far because the sidewalks still aren’t ploughed from the snowstorm this weekend and we couldn’t walk in the street because of the traffic. The cops and firetrucks were blocking off the street. We stopped where we were and you could see the orange light of the flames reflecting off the clouds of smoke every so often.

We came home and I searched the internet and posted on facebook about it. We weren’t sure what was on fire. I was praying it wasn’t the gas station not too far from us. Turns out it was an apartment complex down the street. The fire was in the roof. The emergency vehicles are still blocking off the road near our corner and it’s 5 hours later. I have seen photos on local news sites and the fire looked bad. The fire was in the roof.

It reminded us of that time our place burned down in 2006. The fire ended up being in the roof then, too. When the firemen broke the roof with their axe the top of our building exploded. This fire has over 60 firefighters going at it. There is still smoke and 45 apartments have to be vacated. Two days before Christmas.

But the extra surreal thing for me right now is that when I looked back at my blog archive for the post I wrote about OUR fire I noticed something.

Our fire happened on the same day as the day the guy jumped off the building and landed in front of me. Nearly on top of me.

The same day.

Seven years apart.

March 27, 2006 and March 27, 2013.

Shawn was home with the dogs the time the building caught fire (it was in the apartment above us). He was safe, so were Annie and Jinx. It could have been worse. Had I not stopped to see if a truck was going to drive into the loading bay, I’d have had jumper guy land on top of me. But as traumatized I am by his fall and splattering, I was also safe from harm. (Mostly.)

I find myself wondering what might have happened to be on March 27, 1999. I can’t recall anything major or life-threatening. Or March 27, 1992? March 27, 1985?

I know I’m probably thinking way too much into this, but it’s just so jarring to realize that two major events that could have ended in loss of life happened on the same date. It’s weird.

And I feel a little light headed now so I think I’ll take an anti-anxiety pill and go to bed because I just don’t want to think about trauma and sadness and fear and tragedy anymore. Those poor people in the apartment complex. It’s never a good time for something like this to happen but in December, in the winter… it’s one of the worst times. I hope some of the hotels/motels around here are kind enough to open their doors to those in need right now. I can’t imagine it’ll happen, but it would be very nice if it did.


(And side note: Monkey was the first comment on both of my tragic moment posts. Seeing that made me smile because she is one of the most amazing friends. Thank you, Monkey.)

(Extra side note: I’m sorry my blogging has been all depressing as heck lately. I’m working through stuff and it helps to write it out. Christmas is soon so I’ll have something a little more glittery to write about in a while. Thanks for sticking around though if you have been.)

two years… really?

While Shawn and I were sitting in the living room tonight trying to figure out what we wanted for dinner, talk turned to our house and how we’re happy where we are right now, but don’t plan on being here forever, but we’re at least enjoying making this place ours.

But then… I suddenly said, “Oh my god! It was two years ago TODAY that our place burned down!”

“Can’t be,” said Shawn.

But it’s true. March 27, 2006 was the night of the fire. The fire that burned for over four hours. The fire that changed everything in our lives.

This also means that I have been in this job for almost two years. It’ll be two years on April 10.

So bloody much has happened in the last two years that it’s unbelievable. Un-frickin-believable!! A year in my in-laws’ basement, a year in our new home (almost). It all just seems like it passed in the blink of an eye, and yet, so very, very long ago.

Sometimes time and life are scary.

keys tonight!

I swear I had planned to write a big long thing today… but then the day just slipped away from me. I have been packing up all our DVDs, books and videogames. Once Shawn gets home from work tonight, we’re filling the car with boxes and then driving off into the sunset to go pick up the keys for our new house. This weekend will be spent cleaning and bringing more boxes and clothes over. All the big stuff should be moved next Friday – we just have to remember to book the truck. Oops.

I am covered in dust and grime from the piles of things we stacked up last year at this time and then never looked at again. But boy do we have a lot of crap around for having spent a year in a basement with 99% of our possessions in storage!

I’m going to need to start a new category for this house thing, since it’s technically not House Hunting any more. Hmm, not sure what to call it.

So, I’m off to get a few more things together for tonight and I will also be bringing my camera with me so that this entire weekend shall be documented!

Sorry for the lack of updates….

one year

One year ago today was the fire.

So much has happened since then.

We were pushed down but we got back up.

And on Friday? WE GET OUR HOUSE!

So, that long rambling post I was thinking about writing all week to express all the despair I was feeling about the fire and the rat bastard landlord? Well, it’s not needed, but I find that I am NOT in despair. I’m actually quite content with the way things turned out.