In My Mom's Memory

The events of the past two days have me thinking about my mom. How would she react if she knew her brothers and sisters and their children were treating us this way. She was indeed a Jehovah's Witness when she died. She was also educated and fiercely protective of her children. She did not live through the vast changes in JW doctrine. She thought we would never go to elementary school in this 'system of things'. How would she feel now? If she were a fly on the wall.

Perhaps this is the question my aunts, uncles and cousins should ask themselves. Her memory is a big part of family gatherings. She was the oldest and I her eldest child. My daughters are her grandchildren. How would she feel seeing the way we have been treated by her family??

I like to think that had she lived she would have been the freespirit I have been told repeatedly she was and would have recognized the utter garbage the religion espoused by her family is. Religious beliefs used by the family to sow guilt. Using the false promise of seeing her again on a 'paradise earth' to keep us towing the line. How would she feel about it if she could see us right now?

I am going to rest my emotionally weary head tonight easy with the knowing that she would not be pleased. And I like to think that she would be proud I have not used this lie to chain her grandchildren to this rubbish for any longer than I had. I KNOW my mother would be proud of my children and I, and of her siblings, not so much.

Chew on that.

Interesting Invite...

...I made assumptions, based on experience and knowledge, that the family BBQ was a no go zone for me. I saw the invite on Facebook awhile back but because I am out of touch and because of the previously noted assumptions I made no plans to go. Then...this afternoon at work, I get a call from an aunt. The kind of call that my response upon realizing who it was, is..."okay...who died?"  Because these people do not call me unless a family member is dead or dying. The ones from the past who are still tied to the apocalyptic cult better known as the Jehovah's Witnesses. Where I am known as an apostate. The worst of the worst of those who leave. Or at least it used to be. Thus my assumptions.
Which, it appears, are incorrect! Apparently while I was busy living my life some of the more hard core followers have loosened up a bit. I have watched over the years as many of my cousins have left so that those in are now outnumbered by those of us who are out. However, finding out that some of the older ones have loosened their views a bit has come as a surprise to me.

The call from my Aunt would suggest this is the case, as she is a hard core follower, a true believer, and yet she was the one who called to make sure I was aware that I was invited. Conversation regarding my surprise at this ensued. That and that no one was actually dead. Because apparently it is surprising that I would think that is the only reason they would call...well duh. Why else??
Anyway, to make a short story long... I am invited to the family BBQ and it is a "no drama" zone. A keep your individual beliefs to yourself and just be respectful and loving to all those who are there kind of gathering. Interesting!

To be fair, they have had these gatherings before, with those who are not in but also not 'out' to the extent I am. Because I have historically been 'persona non grata' number one, I have never attended. Nor have any personal invitations of this type been extended.

 I had to call my cousin after work because the confusion and skepticism hung on long after the phone call. I seriously thought this was so weird. After speaking with my cousin I was convinced that attending was the thing to do. Reassured we would be welcome. So I rearranged my weekend to include two visits, one on both days, first with my daughter and her girlfriend on Saturday and on Sunday with my boyfriend. I let my relatives know my timing should they like to see me on the event Facebook page. We were excited to go and see family, a high percentage of whom do not tow the JW line. Cousins we haven't seen in years! And a few who, JW or not, would be happy to see us. Although they might not spend much time with me, it would be a great opportunity for them to spend some time with two of the most beautiful humans that are my daughter and boyfriend. How awesome!! Maybe they are loosening up a bit!

As I write this I am working to stay true to how I felt. Excited and hopeful! Happy for the opportunity to see family gathered together at what appeared to be an all inclusive event!

...and like a punch to the gut, I get the message from my non-JW cousin at whose home the event is to take place, that he would, with heartfelt apologies and "out of respect for his wife's religious beliefs", have to ask me not to attend. Well...fuck. I should have known it was too good to be true. How could I be so stupid to think that anything has changed. That maybe they have learned what love really is.

I took a screenshot and sent it off to my daughter, boyfriend and cousins with whom I had been discussing attending. Surprise ensued. Disappointment, sadness and anger followed. Kudos to my daughter who blasted the internet personal space of Facebook with all she was feeling. In words I wanted to scream to the universe along with her. 'Go fuck yourselves! We are DONE! Do not ever invite us again! We have carried on without you for this long, we will continue to carry on just fine without you!'  Etc,etc. And very well put I must say. She can write.

Anyway, here we are not going. And here I am struggling with rehashing old shit. Same old same old. Angry with myself for allowing hope to arise within myself, and worse passing it on to my children.
I have lived with this for so long why am I allowing it to hurt me now??

I knew last month during the last conversation with my Dad that I will ever have that he was a lost cause. But I had heard rumors of others loosening ... so hope springs alive from the well within. Because I yearn for them to learn love as I know it. For them to enjoy life, to let go of the misery they are immersed in. Remove themselves from the lie they believe to be true. That's why.

But because love comes with boundaries, I am with my daughter on this one. Unless you can be all inclusive of those who are your family by blood ...fuck you. You are toxic to all that I am and believe myself to be. You are toxic to those who are most important to me and I will not allow your toxicity to touch me and mine. As long as you call yourself a Jehovah's Witness and follow their old white men with their toxic view of love, it is YOU who are not welcome in our lives. Peace, out.

It's Been Awhile...

.... and much has changed ... and much stays the same.

This time I am reviving my blog so I can promote and motivate myself in the writing of my book. Yes, I do think I may have done this before. Nevertheless, here we go again. Although this time I am going to endeavor not to make it short lived. I realized just now that I love writing just as much I love immersing myself in my various works of creation. What the hell, may as well promote that here too. One day I hope to make a living at it. In a studio overlooking the water... a girl can dream cant she?
...though I am happy to report, those dreams are beginning to seem closer and even attainable.

Below I give you the beginning of the forward so far and part of the first chapter of my book... feel free to comment.
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Forward and disclaimer...

How does one start a book about the content of their life without revisiting the occasions in which the deepest scars have been made? I have started this book many times and have many journal writings that can still be difficult to read. How young and naive I often was. How beaten but not entirely broken I have been. Many times. I have been told that sharing my experiences can be of service to others. Then that beaten little girl in me pipes up and says…no you’re not good enough. How can you help others when you are entirely fucked up yourself? …she says. I heard a saying once … can’t recall at the moment who said it, but the words were, more or less… ‘when you can go deep within the wounds of your past without tears, you have healed.’ Can you heal from those wounds completely? There is a part of me that says no. Those scars will always be with us. Always. It is what we do with them that matters. The difference between wallowing in self-pity and setting the wounds free to be what they are. Our demons. Our darkness. The deep hidden internal scars we hide from the rest of the world. I say… know them and know them well. Knowledge is power.

So ….those scars. My scars. This memoir will endeavor to go deep with them. Although it will undoubtedly be coloured slightly off shade by my own perception of my memories and the colour of the stories embellished from the memories of others, I promise the most honest reflection of my experiences, the lessons learned and the many mistakes made that I can deliver.

I also forewarn the reader that my writings will often be raw and offensive with forthright profanity, damn fine grammar and contain an often-extreme usage of an extensive vocabulary. I recognize that it may come off as arrogant, I can be. I know I will often look like an asshole, I am. But I am also aware that I have a beautiful mind. Critical yet generous in charitable interpretation, skeptical but naive, argumentative as well as compliant. Believe me, no one is more aware of my paradoxical nature than I am.

To my family… both those of my relations that have managed to stay that way and those who have not, I would, perhaps, ask for forgiveness to the details I have not gotten correct. Try to understand that these are stories as I recall them. My own interpretation of the various situations as my mind has allowed me to understand them. From the collection of stories of my early childhood as told to me by various aunties and uncles over the years. Hearing them with new ears many years after the events themselves or hearing them differently from other aunties and uncles who were around at the time. This is my interpretation of those events and …frankly, I actually don’t care if you forgive any offense taken by that interpretation. To some of you…both fuck you and gawd dammit, I am trying to love you anyway. To some of you… both pity and sadness because you are stuck in a façade, one that knows not what love is regardless of how much you think you are the only ones do. Bulletin: you fucking don’t. YOU DO NOT KNOW LOVE. Period. And I think you know you are. Yet there is this part of me that screams at you … there is still time to learn and practice what love is. Is that hope? Yes a bit. A fantasy I occasionally indulge in until the realist in me says… some will never learn. To the rest of you … I love you and I am so glad you are part of my tribe. Family is not by blood… it is built by love, mutual respect and acceptance. By cheerleaders not naysayers. To my tribe members … this book is my tribute to you. Thank you for your support in all the directions I have taken. For the advice, sometimes taken other times not. Occasionally to my own detriment…. Through it all you have stood by my side, whether metaphorically or physically, and I am forever grateful.

I think for shits and grins I will begin this way…

Chapter 1

Once upon a time, a child was born. Not quite illegitimate but I was at least part of the reason my parents married. Yes, it was the 60’s, free love and all that. However my mother was a Jehovah’s Witness… a pregnant Jehovah’s Witness. Second generation. One doesn’t get choose the hand they are dealt. One has no choice but to play them.

I was born in Calgary, Alberta where my mom had been attending college and my father joined her there while she finished her studies. It has been said that my father went there to visit with the intention of getting her pregnant. I have no idea if this is true, I only know that about 9 months after that visit I arrived and prior to my birth they were married.

I recall nothing of my 13 months in Calgary. My first childhood memory that is clear, is being carried by my father into my grandparents house on the anchorage outside Fort St. John. I recall chewing on the end of a chicken leg bone. Apparently at that time it was not considered a choking hazard. I recall kittens …and that my mom was with us, although that part is less clear to me. She is often a blur.

There were always a gazillion people around… perhaps due to the fact my mother was the first child of 15. Yes, 15. Can one even imagine this nowadays?? You all were crazy! Although yes, times were different. Children could work the farm. No easy access to birth control. But … hey sex is important!!

No seriously … sex is important! More on that later…I digress.

Sunny Saturdays...

Shouldn't I be at a beach?? Maybe, but at the moment I feel like I should be right here in front of my computer filling a previously blank screen with text. I want to sit with my recent epiphanies and express my joy at personal awakening.What better space for that than this one? I've always been better with written word than spoken. Surprising I'm sure. (insert eye roll) Yes, I am aware that I also have always definitely been a tiny bit of a big mouth. I have to tell you though I am finding peace in my solitude. I have become less vocal or rather discerningly vocal. Running a cost benefit analysis prior to speaking. Goes much the same for social media. Oh I have my days, if its something that I might be particularly passionate about and there is a possibility to influence reasoning and exploration of ones thoughts, a willingness on the part of the reader to see all sides. Alas, there are few opportunities. And since I am no longer editing my online dating profiles, I have some time to explore and share my thoughts and have chosen this medium to do so. Lucky you.

Here is my Saturday thought. While I have been saying for sometime that we chose to be happy, that happiness is a conscious choice we make, the truth of this came clearer to my mind today. There is a part of me that does wish perhaps I wasn't spending the day alone and I have to acknowledge her, because she is the scared little girl. Sounds a bit backwards doesn't it? Isn't the scared one the one who doesn't go out? Nope. The scared one is the one whose demons are obvious to only a few of her closest friends and are such that she must face them alone.The ones that are silent when I'm distracted by the company of others. The ones that tweak and niggle begging for attention with constant tapping from the inside of my skull only when I am alone. The what ifs, whys, should haves, could haves. They interrupt my peace and joy, needlessly. I've battled these demons many times in their iterations as flashbacks, anxiety, migraines, weight gain, etc. I won those battles, but those who know will agree, you never beat your demons. Eventually you sign a treatise and make peace. Then one day you become best buds because those demons have your back. You find creative, hopefully legal, ways to keep them happy. They become your radar and when they blip on the screen of your mind you acknowledge them but instead of reacting without thought now you sit back and go "Hmm. Interesting. How about that! Why is that there? How did it get there? ...ahhh. I know where that is from." You take note, explore it and then decide if it warrants a red flag or a green one. (...sorry rambling, I know...I always have to take the circle route). Point being that you make a conscious choice based on that process. And that choice is a decision to be happy. Because we cannot control or change any external factors that are not ours to control or change. And what we cannot not control or change needs not be worried about. Acknowledged, yes. Determine importance, whether or not it may be within our power or influence. Better yet, do we even want it to be? Is it going to matter in a week, a year, tomorrow? How do we actually feel about it, in our gut? Is is a good vibe or a bad vibe? Write it down then let it go, because really, the most important part of validation is acknowledgement. And we can get that from ourselves rather than seeking it elsewhere. Once we are able to do that... then we are happy. All it comes down to is choice.
Peace, love and rainbows.

Friday night contemplation...

...so here I sit in the big city, in front of my computer instead of out in the sunshine, or finding my way to a club. Not going on a date, or out to do any number of other things. Why is that? Oh I've done plenty since I arrived. When I want to I wander, the streets, the park, Metrotown, downtown ...I do go out. I am just no longer in a rush to experience all that I can. I'm no longer that coiled spring under tension from circumstance that once released goes off like a rocket. I've found my pace. Thankfully it took far shorter a period of time than it did when I was 18. The second 'teenager leaving home feeling' has dissipated and I'm feeling grounded. Being in a space I can call my own helps I'm sure. And knowing I don't have to move for at least a year or worry about work also helps!

Unfortunately being settled means I now have time to over think, over analyze and other wise torment myself with my inner critic. That little voice that still says "you're not good enough" "nobody is going to love you the way you are" "you're too this" "you're not enough that" blah blah blah ad nauseum. Yes, me. That strong confident women who endured and finally left two bad marriages. That vocal woman who has no problem waving a rainbow flag and speaking her mind in public. That woman who earned a Bachelor's Degree while working full time and as a homemaker.Yes, THAT woman struggles with insecurity, low self esteem, PTSD and anxiety. Understand I do recognize how awesome I am. I am not unaware that I have been a voice for many, an inspiration even. I can at times be arrogant in recognition of my intellect. My education. My work accomplishments. My creative abilities. And yet, yes, I struggle with the feeling of inadequacy and the fear of ending up alone for the rest of my life. Ridiculous right?

So what is the point of this... I guess the point is that I am happy to finally be at a place in my life where I do my best to be fully aware of who I am, of both my accomplishments and my failures. To take responsibility for how I feel. To step back and assess before I react. To make a conscious effort to recognize the inner critic for who she is ... a frightened little girl out in the big bad world. To tell her its going be okay...we've been here before and we did just fine. We did better than fine... for look at where we are now. " Yeah. Sitting at home alone on a Friday night in front of a computer writing this," she laughs.

...and that friends is why it's called 'Distracted Ramblings...' You're welcome. The cedar is calling me. Peace, love and rainbows.

Paint, words, holes.

My paintings of late have continued to employ intensifying spirals and swirls. Roots and thorns protruding, flashes of electricity and synapses connecting a diverse array of eyes, irises and pupils, a play of shadows and light. Symbols of life and death, growth and decay, phases and layers, never ending and ever deepening cycles. Such is life. Particularly so for the person who has been set free of oppression, both external and internal, real and imagined. We can find a rabbit hole of discovery in every experience, each smile, bite, nibble, outright pain and melancholic moment, intense orgasmic joy, mutual peruse and the like. We feel everything, often immensely, and yet detach ourselves from those feelings and any expectations arising from them. Purposely much of the time, so that we can observe our own feelings from a distance. We sit with them, question them, seek our triggers, discover the roots, clip the thorns, accept full responsibility for them, for they are ours and we own them. Every. Single. One. 

When I paint I immerse myself in those feelings and express them as best I can in the form of color and shades of light and shadow. My paint brush guiding the flow, providing texture and fluidity with each stroke. My writing …well …here you are reading it for yourself. Each word chosen specifically to express the depth of the feeling being observed. Exploring the dimensions within the often superficial apex of the rabbit hole. Even the choosing of the exact word is in and of itself a bunny jump.

So here I sit on a sunny but breezy Saturday in my new digs in New West, in front of my computer screen. Not that I'm not enjoying the weather from my perch in front of my large kitchen window. I find it comforting to watch the play of the sunlight on the branches of the cedar that grows in the neighbor's yard. The pale blue sky clear except for the stream left by another flight arriving or leaving YVR. I love this oasis of solitude within the ordered chaos that lies just beyond my view from behind the glass. 

As I have both plenty and nothing to do this afternoon, I will stop at this juncture. This fork in the road... but suffice to say... the words are flowing again. Peace, love and rainbows.

It's a New Life...

Here I am ... in the city. Six months already and finally in my own place after staying with my child and her girlfriend. If there was ever a time when I felt that the world was my oyster it is now. The joy I feel being here can't be measured. I definitely needed a change of environment, people, views, and pace. The feeling of being surrounded yet still alone is enigmatically consoling. The anonymity one can only find when surrounded by a sea of people. I have a rejuvenated motivation to write. Something I haven't felt like doing in a long while. A certain amount of heart break always helps motivate my writing. Remind me to thank my muses.