missing: me, myself, and I
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…
in my head
Sometimes you go round and round and round and round spinning over and over in your head but, why? but, why? but, why? and it’s a slippery slope from one step to another to but why…me? why me? but why me? because there are no reasons for randomness. there’s no rhyme to spontanieous events. unless it was your own decision to make a stupid mistake (and oh, how I’ve made some) then you’re stuck suffering the consequence. don’t get sucked into the why-me-trap so they say you’ll never find answers to questions without them but over and over that’s all you can hear over and over it feeds the fear why me? you can be safe. you can be kind. you can be thoughtful. you can be good. but between one heartbeat and the next everything you know can be undone but why me? you’ll never know but why me? don’t dwell on that now but why me? that’s all I hear funny how one single moment in time can change you forever who am I now? but why but why but why me.
leaping and stuff
If you look at the word “leap” long enough, it will no longer look like a word. It will look like you picked four random letters and tried tossing them together. True story. I wanted to write today because I have never posted on a leap day before. At least, not on this blog. I thought it would be nifty. And then I thought all day about what I would write, and I’ll be honest: I got nothing. Suppose I could write about how I took today off, and about how February was a rough month. But meh, that’s dull. I could write about how I’m feeling restless, and twitchy, and want to do something, anything, different and new, and fun. I feel sort of trapped. Or stuck. Or on the cusp of something, but I don’t know what that is yet. The air around me is all electric, and it’s not just static electricity because of the dry winter. (Though the dogs would beg to differ as they are constantly being shocked when we try to pet them.) I’m just not sure where I am leaping yet. I feel like a leap is pending. Leaping limbo. I have five books out from the library right now, and I had a 3-day weekend where I could have read every day. Yet, no reading happened. I have just been flitting around from one thing to the next, not really accomplishing much of anything. Books unopened. Feathers rustling. It’s the cusp of…
straight from the heart
I made my friends some Valentine’s Day cards today; to let them know I care. (made with Paper by FiftyThree, and WordSwag, by me!)
My Traditional Ode to Valentine’s Day
He Shoots Again cupid’s arrow has done it again just like a bull’s eye it struck my heart and made me love he made me love someone i can never have oh, cupid is playing darts with his bow and arrow and my heart is the board he shoots and he shoots some more until my heart is sore and he shoots again i hear the laughter again to him it’s just a game there’s pleasure in my pain and he made me love he made me love someone i’ll never have without your help i can do just fine please leave the choice up to me look at all the pain you’ve caused in all of history, romeo and juliet, adam and eve would have been just fine without you why don’t you just leave? and he shoots again and he shoots again he’s drunk on love’s passion he’s crazy for love he needs it, he wants it he’ll take it ’til you’re sore he’s just got to, got to got to have more and he shoots again oh, cupid is playing darts with his bow and arrow and my heart is the board he shoots and he shoots some more until my heart is sore and he shoots again © cjh february 4, 1993 Yep I am totally flaking out and posting my Ode to Valentine’s Day here (as I normally do) as my “look! I blogged this month!” thing. I can’t find time for anything these days.…
farewell to the old me – #thisis40
So, I turned 40 last weekend. I have had lots of thoughts about this throughout the month of January, but I could never find time to write them down. I couldn’t decide if they were good thoughts, or bad thoughts. But I had many thoughts. And I know that birthdays, new years, anniversaries are really just the same as any other day, but something about that subtle change in a date, or a number, makes you feel like you’re starting something new. When you start a new decade of your life, you feel something. You might not know what it is, but something is in the air, and your mind, that there is change afoot. I get caught up in these silly ideas pretty easily, and sometimes you might need that. I’m now 40. There are a new set of years ahead of me with 4 as the first number in my age. It’s a different chapter in my life: mostly physically, as ageing is wont to do. I’m not going to lie, I am not really sad to see the 30s go. I had an amazing decade of personal growth and really came into my own and finally was happy with who I am. But a lot of crappy stuff happened, too. And I’m not sad to move on from that. I’m the type of person who has to look at what’s behind her in order to move forward. Not dwell on the past, but take note of all…
january joy: friends
I am not alone. This might seem like a silly statement, but it holds the weight of the the world within those words. I used to think I was alone. So alone. I could be surrounded by groups of people, yet feel nothing but alone. I thought I was invisible. Insignificant. Unimportant. I was sure no one noticed me, if I were there or not. But I wasn’t alone. I never was. I’m not sure when I began to realize that I wasn’t alone. It started slowly, until one day I woke up and saw just how surrounded I was with friends who cared about me. Friends who were there for me when I needed to be covered in love and support. It’s almost as if I blinked and the fog around me lifted and suddenly there were all these people right there in front of me. *note: don’t be offended if you’re not in this photo. I used what was on my phone at the time! But this isn’t going to be a post about depression, even if it sounds like it is. What this is, is a post about how much I appreciate every single friendship I have in my life. Some of these friendships are online, and I have yet to meet the kindred soul I have been chatting with for years. Some of these friendships are with people I have known for years, but do not see very often. Some of these friendships are with people I see…
it’s not you, it’s me
It’s not you, it’s me. I have no interest in reading political anything. Just doesn’t interest me. It’s not you, it’s me. I don’t like to read angry, negative rants. So I don’t. It’s not you, it’s me. That “us vs. them” attitude just doesn’t work for me. So I don’t listen to it. It’s not you, it’s me. I don’t care about religious views. It’s a personal thing, and doesn’t need to be aired out in public. It’s not you, it’s me. I like my social media feeds to be filled with sunshine and puppies, so I block out the dark clouds and loud, angry voices. Friend or family, doesn’t make a difference. I’m happy with sunshine and puppies and rainbows. Don’t care much about anything else. Well, maybe kittens. But that’s just me, not you. So when I click the unfollow button, don’t worry. It’s not you. It’s me.
a tale of two coats
Once upon a time, I had a lovely wool (ok, acrylic) coat that I bought at Old Navy. This was a coat I wore most of the fall and winter seasons for about two years. Unfortunately said coat was donated to a second-hand store at the start of last winter. Why? Well it turns out the coat was likely a trigger for the ptsd issues as it was the coat I was wearing when the guy fell from the sky. Couple that with November being rather March-like, even though I loved that coat, there were too many things pushing ME off the edge. So I followed the suggestion of my therapist and got rid of the coat. Problem was, I couldn’t find anything to replace it with. I looked much of last year for another wool (not wool) coat, but nothing fit, or nothing was just right. I miss that Old Navy coat a lot, it was perfect for me – a person who overheats easily – so I could wear it most of the winter with just an extra hoodie or something underneath if I needed to. Alas. This year I was on the look out for a new coat again. It’s not easy finding what you’re looking for WHEN you’re looking for it. I wasn’t looking for a coat when I got the Old Navy one, I needed a non-parka, yes, but I wasn’t actively looking for something. That’s the way I find the best things. Anyways… On…
belatedly outrageous (truly!)
Seriously, you guys. The older I get, the more difficult blogging becomes. Not because I don’t have anything to say (I ALWAYS have things to say!) but because I just don’t have the time or energy to write it all down at the end of the day. Which is why I am writing about my Halloween on the 8th of November. Just turn your calendars back to last month whilst you read this, ok? It’ll seem like October all over again! Back in 1985 I had one idol. She had a band called the Holograms. Her name was Jem. I wanted to BE Jem. I wanted to sing pop songs, make music videos, have magic earrings, and PINK HAIR! I knew from a very, very young age that I wanted to sing and make records, but once I saw the flashing, glittery-glamour of Jem appear on my tv screen back in ’85, I knew what my life’s calling would be. BECOME JEM! It’s taken WAY too long for that to happen. But for one day this year, I got to live that dream. No singing. No record deals, but I came to work dressed as Jem and I was so happy. Thanks to my amazing husband, and his gifting me a Christmas present way early, I even had the magical earrings! People – these earrings LIGHT UP! No magical Synergy or holograms, but still. They light up! Woot! I could “Showtime, Synergy!” all day and make the little stars flashy…
i wish…
I wish I could change hair colour & style at whim. I wish I was magical. I wish my boobs were smaller. I wish I could stop chewing my cuticles. (Bad stress habit.) I wish I was independently wealthy. I wish I didn’t have to work for a living. I wish money wasn’t an issue that people, including myself, had to worry about. I wish I enjoyed running, because I actually enjoy running. (Trust me, that makes sense.) I wish I had a horse, and could go horseback riding through nature every weekend. I wish I could tolerate 35C+ heat and humidity in the summer, because I love being outside. I wish I was taller, I wish I was a baller, I wish I had a girl and if I did I — no, wait. That’s a song. Get out of my head, song. I wish I could talk to animals. I wish I had the body type for clothes that I like that I obviously do not have the body type for. But just for those rare outfits I want to wear. Otherwise, I’m pretty ok with my body type. But… I wish I could shake the random “I’m fat and ugly” mood phases that crop up. They are annoying, and lies. I wish I could have more than two dogs at home. (City bylaws – boo!) I wish dragons were real. Not evil dragons, that terrorize & eat everyone and their sheep, but nice dragons. Like in How…
declutter your mind
I am an obsessive sort of person. I have an addictive personality. I am prone to anxiety and panic attacks. I can be manic one second, and depressive another. All of these things make it very easy for me to have on-going chatter in my head. It gets loud in there sometimes. Especially at night. I always have my phone with me, but I rarely use it as a phone. I know. I will send text messages more often than placing a voice call. I don’t like talking to people on the phone. I mostly use my phone for my camera, and a few games. And, like so many other people in the world, social media. Social media (Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, etc) is an extremely loud universe. And it is super easy for an obsessive, addictive person to get sucked in and drown from information over-load. The thing is, 99.9% of that information isn’t actually informative – or relevant. I go through phases where my Facebook and Twitter feeds annoy the crap out of me. 9 out of 10 updates I see make me irrationally angry. I flirt with deleting my account, or deleting people from my friends list. I mute people, and hide them from my feed. I am not someone who wants to read political, religious, hot-topic posts (and the inevitable arguments that follow). I don’t want to see photos of abused animals, children, or adults. I like seeing photos of your life. I like seeing photos of your…
i am
…a dreamer. …not tall. …goofy. …an extroverted introvert; or an introverted extrovert. I want to be alone & quiet, but also need to socialize. …extremely sensitive. …sarcastic. …irrationally terrified of being eaten by a shark after the plane I am on crashes into the ocean. …completely aware of how irrational that fear is. …also terrified of spiders, and squirrels. …capable of feeling completely alone while surrounded by a group of people. …someone who is slow to trust, but once I do, I will be loyal ’til the end of time. …a girl who doesn’t wear make-up, but loves having bright, candy-coloured hair. …colourful. …still struggling with the “what do I want to do with my life” question. …anxious, shy, suspicious. …jaded and cynical. …still naive enough to expect the best of others, therefore so often brokenhearted. …easily distrac– …someone who loves sparkly things. …desperate for a new tattoo. The idea is a work-in-progress, but I’m almost there. …a lover of words, and magic. …sad. …hyper. …impatient. …my biggest fan! …my own worst enemy. …currently listening to Taylor Swift albums on repe-ee-ee-eeet. …convinced that Taylor Swift is the spirit animal to Teenage Me. …emotionally motivated. …someone who snorts when she laughs. …clumsy. …thankful for my friends and how they help me get through my lows and highs. …a girl who will always have Finnish Lapphunds. …learning to love myself. …a voracious reader. …overzealous at times. …not particularly interesting, but I am rather particular. …whimsical. Fun. Funny. Loud. Quiet. Self-confident & insecure.…
of teen me, and summer, and nostalgia
It is extremely rare that it happens, but occasionally I will have a moment of wishing I was Teen Me again. Trust me when I say that it is extremely rare, because even when I was Teen Me, I couldn’t ever understand why people thought being in their teens was a good thing. I was not a happy teenager. I may have looked it on the outside, but on the inside I was a dark, angry, ink scribble mess. I was shy, depressed, anxious, and was filled with the fear of people not liking me, or hurting me. But when that rare occasion that I wish I was Teen Me again crops up, it will happen during the summer. From the age of 9 months, until I was old enough to be stupid and want to stay HOME, we spent every summer a Marine Village on the shores of Lake Champlain in upstate NY. All. Summer. My mother didn’t work, and my grandparents were retired. We started out just renting one of the cottages there, and then in 1988 my parents bought us a trailer, and my grandparents switched to renting a mobile home. Once we had our own place, we’d open it up over the May long weekend, and spend every weekend there until school was out. That’s when my mum, sister, and my grandparents, would relocate for the summer until school started again after Labour Day. My dad would come down on weekends, and use his vacation time during…
words of wisdom always seem wiser when said to someone else
I can be your cheerleader. I can be your support. I can encourage you to be your best, and take that chance. I can offer you words of comfort and optimism, all completely sincere, to help you overcome those obstacles, and to find the courage to try something new. I can offer sage advice on how you shouldn’t let fear of the unknown keep you from trying something new. I can do all this and more when it comes to supporting someone other than myself. When it comes down to me, though? Everything sage and sincere I have ever said to someone else is suddenly gone from my head. I start to panic, to procrastinate, to find multiple excuses to not be doing what I should be doing. Something so simple, that will cause no harm, is suddenly the largest monster in the closet and I don’t want to go into that room anymore lest I accidentally let it out. Change is good. Change is terrifying. Without change, you can’t grow. You can’t experience life. You stay static. Trapped. You might hate where you are, but unless you take that first step onto the path leading in another direction, you’ll never change. I have never been good with change. I like Same. Though as I have grown older I have become much more adaptable to change. Small changes, but still, my entire world does not turn upside down with every small change. And I want change. I am tired of Same.…
