You can have depression and still have a strong faith.
You can have anxiety and still have a strong faith.
You can be overwhelmed with what’s happening in your life and still have a strong faith.
You can be overcome with grief and still have a strong faith.
It’s important we don’t use faith to minimize someone else’s pain or life experience. Yes, there are thorns, but that doesn’t mean my faith is any less. Faith doesn’t cure things. It won’t take away suffering and make everything all better. But it does bring strength.
So when you see someone who is struggling, don’t assume their faith is weak. Some of my lowest moments have been when my faith has been its strongest.
My story is messy, raw, and real. It’s filled with moments I wish I could erase.
BUT it’s also a story filled with resilience, finding peace in the chaos, and discovering a grace that ultimately saves me every single day of my life. My story is ugly but it’s also beautiful.
After spending the last month in hospital on a psych unit, I’m in my own home tonight. I thought often of writing about my experiences while I was there but each time I would just stare at the blank screen and think things like …
Who really wants to hear about a hospital, much less a psyc unit full of crazy ppl?
What if I’m oversharing?
What if ppl start to look at me as a crazy person now?
Someone who knows me in real life might recognize me and then everyone in town will know things about me and will never look at me the same way again.
You get the idea. So I have not written anything in a month. I’ve kept myself locked up and silenced because of shame. Well, you know what? Screw everybody! I don’t care what ppl think!
Me and Buddy
Sorry, that’s not very nice of me. I don’t mean that. I really do care what ppl think. I care too much. That’s the problem.
I need to be a little selfish and think of myself sometimes. Particularly about writing. I love to write but I’m so focused on other ppl and what they think that it prevents me from genuinely expressing myself, both in real life and online. I want to work on changing that. I want to write from my heart. I want to be genuine and honest and tell things the way I want to tell them, without shame.
I just want to relax a bit and be myself. I want to let go of the shame and judgment. I truly am my own worst enemy.
I am not gonna lie; I am not always okay. I will always tell you I’m okay, but sometimes I’m not being completely honest.
Sometimes, I just want to disappear. I want to stop living. Sometimes, I feel like I am not going to be alright. Like everything feels wrong, and I am so sad. I am really good at pretending that I am okay when I’m not.
At night, the darkness haunts me. The pain is trying to suffocate me when I close my eyes. I am just so lost right now. My smiles are fake and I feel like such a fraud. I’ve been wondering what went wrong. Why is this happening? Why am I so unhappy? Why do I feel so tired whenever I wake up?
I am so sick of this. I keep thinking that maybe someday I am going to heal. Maybe I will eventually feel whole, as opposed to broken. I will experience what its like to be happy and content. I crave wellness …
but I just can’t reach it. I don’t think its ever going to happen for me. I can’t stay like this. I don’t want to be in pain anymore. I don’t want to be sad over and over again.
I’m tired of reaching for something I want so bad but never being able to grab it.
A life lesson that I’ve learned much too late is that avoidance creates a lot more suffering than what would occur if I had faced the issue at the beginning. It is making me sick.
Experiencing a great deal of pain today.
Avoiding those wounds, the trauma, the lies, or even the belief systems inside of us can lead to physical, psychological, emotional, and/or spiritual damage.
There’s a spectrum, of course.
Avoidance might look like constantly being glued to your phone, or binge-watching shows because it provides you an escape.
Or avoidance might have turned into full blown addiction that started all because you needed something to numb the pain inside.
It might be that you are distracted enough to ignore what’s trying to grab your attention inside of you.
It all makes sense. I know the pain some of us feel is so intense, we’re afraid that if we feel it, it could swallow us whole and we’d never be able to breathe again.
Unfortunately, the avoiding behaviors can end up being more destructive and painful than the actual wound itself.
So we avoid. And then we avoid some more.
If anyone reads this, I don’t know what you are avoiding, or what you are shoving deep down, but I bet if you stopped for a minute to notice it, you would know right away what it is.
I don’t know what you need. Maybe you need to go to a professional to work through it. Maybe you need to pray about it or say it out loud to a trusted friend.
Maybe you can start by simply admitting to yourself that it’s there … and start to imagine the time, energy, and space you’d get back if you didn’t need to spend it on avoidance.
If there’s something in you that says, “it was too long ago – I should be over it”, or “I could never say that out loud”, or “Acknowledging what’s inside isn’t going to help me”, please consider that these thoughts are coming from a part of you who wants, desperately, for you to never think about these things. In the darkness is where it will spread and grow and continue to wreak havoc.
Avoidance will never lead us to freedom. But acknowledging our pain will. May all that’s hidden come to light so that we can just be well, and experience life in a way that we no longer need to avoid, but can actually experience.
I was buried under a pile of blankets Counting my breaths Attempting to drown out all the noise Trying to slow down my racing thoughts Praying to hold on Fighting the darkness Willing myself to get up Practicing positive self-talk Bargaining with the universe Begging the pain to just Stop.
Personally, I think the path to happiness is paved with appreciation for the simple pleasures in our lives. Making this list today reminded me that I am surrounded by a beautiful tapestry of joy. I’m so often blinded by so much darkness around me that I tend to forget that beauty still exists. From the warmth of sunlight to the gentle nudges from my dogs, each thing adds a unique hue to the blend of beauty that resonates within me.
It’s there. Joy does exist. I know there is more to me and my life than darkness, mental illness, pain, and suffering. During a hospitalization, a very rude psychiatrist once told me that I am ‘leaving behind a terrible legacy’. Those were his words. And that has stayed with me. Not exactly the kindest thing to say to a suicidal individual. But, I digress.
During a session with my therapist on Tuesday, she said something along the lines of there being more to me than just being a complex case. So often I’ve been labeled as difficult … unique … challenging … complicated … and my favorite – complex. More often than not it’s all doom and gloom, jumping from one crisis to the next, with me. Ppl don’t think of beauty … or courage … or strength … or determination … and certainly not joy or happiness … when they think of me. So in a way, I guess that psychiatrist was right after all. If I died today, the legacy I leave will not be a joyful one.
So I decided to take some time to reflect on what brings me joy on a personal level. The following list is what I came up with and it has really opened my eyes to be able to see that beauty does exist in my life. My struggles are what others see. And more often than not, it’s what I see too. So if you are anything like me, I challenge you to take a few moments to intentionally think of the things that bring you joy.
But don’t be discouraged. It has actually taken me a few days to write this post because happy things don’t naturally come to mind for me. But if you be patient and intentional I think you will be pleasantly surprised by what you come up with. And please, feel free to leave a comment below and share, even just one thing, that brings joy to your life. Let’s shift the conversation for a moment and flood my blog with beautiful things! We could all use some of that today. 🦋
My relationship with God. I list this first and foremost because other things would not be possible without it. It’s not only a source of joy, it’s my everything. My life revolves around my faith. It’s where my hope, my comfort, and my strength radiate from.
The warmth of sun on my face.
Hearing ppl laughing out loud, especially kids. It’s infectious. When was the last time you heard someone laughing and you didn’t smile in return?
The smell of homemade bread. It reminds me of my Nan.
The way words and harmonies go together to create music. Everything about music brings me joy.
Nature. Anything and everything about nature brings me joy. Especially the awe-inspiring sight of sunrises and sunsets. Each time it’s like watching the Master Artist paint a new picture just for me because at my unique location and position I’m the only one with that particular view.
The talents that some people possess just blows my mind. Witnessing creative expression, whether it be through a song, video, dance, writing, painting, etc That brings me joy.
Being able to perform a random act of kindness. I love paying for the next person’s coffee order in Tim’s drive thru.
The love and affection I receive from my 2 dogs.
Being productive. The sense of achievement I get when I check something off my to-do list.
Dancing. Losing myself in the rhythm and movement of music. Actually feeling the music in my body.
Rainy days. The calming sound of heavy rain on the window. Not the misty, dreary kind of rain. But rather the kind that just pours from the heavens.
Discovering new books. Finding a work of literary art that leaves me wanting more after the last word is read (or heard, as most of my books are in audiobook format these days).
Random encounters. Striking up conversations with strangers that leave lasting impressions.
Hugs. Embracing (and being embraced) by another person and feeling their warmth. I’m not a touchy-feely kind of person but a genuine hug from someone I trust is something I actually crave sometimes and it brings me joy.
Scented candles. I love the soothing ambiance of the flickering flame and the fragrances they give off.
Watching the stars. It’s so enchanting.
Learning something new. Especially when it turns into a hobby. I learned about Neurographic art through a random tiktok video and it has since turned into a wonderful hobby and it brings me so much joy.
Acts of generosity. I love the feeling that comes with helping others.
Animals. No explanation is necessary because everything about animals (especially dogs) brings me joy!
It is in cherishing these things that I find joy and contentment in the midst of the challenges in my life. It is through gratitude that I unlock the doors to genuine happiness, and each day becomes an opportunity to celebrate the blessings that bring light and joy into my life. Fostering an attitude of gratitude is what allows me to savor these moments.
I had my Ketamine infusion on Thursday This time was harder than the others have been over the past few months. Maybe because I was dehydrated …? I don’t know. But … I honestly did not think I was that dehydrated though. It never even crossed my mind when I went in there. I could tell that one of the regular nurses started to get frustrated. She said my veins were even smaller than they usually are. It took her quite a while to locate one that she would even attempt to put an iv into. She started sweating and I felt soooo bad. I wish I could have just pointed to a spot anywhere on my body and said, there’s a vein! But there were literally no visible veins to be found.
So then came the manual search. She was gentle, like she usually is, but even just running a finger over my skin and some light tapping hurt. I felt as if I was covered in bruises. Except I wasn’t. I was just cold. After her 3rd failed attempt she called over another nurse who started with my hand, then worked her way up my arm, poking and patting and rubbing to try and get a vein to swell up enough for an iv needle to thread into. She said something about my arm being cold and commented on the fact that I appeared to be quite dehydrated. Something about the elasticity of my skin. I can’t remember exactly what it was that she said.
By this point the shivering had started. The first nurse took my socks off and started rubbing the top of my foot while the other one made several attempts at what she thought were strong veins. I had been fighting with every bit of strength I had to hold back tears but after another failed attempt at yet another promising vein – in my foot this time – a sob came out of my mouth. It actually took me off guard because I was not expecting it. I thought that the imaginary valve in the back of my throat was secure in the closed-off position but the force behind that sob blew right through it.
Somewhere along the line a 3rd nurse had come over and was rubbing my other foot. I didn’t remember her coming. It’s like she just appeared. She rubbed my leg and said, I’m only going to try once and if I don’t get it we’ll have to call Jackie. Jackie is one of the anaesthesiologists in the hospital and has been called on more than one occasion to come and place an iv in me. She’s never had to poke me more than 2 times and more often than not she got it in on the first try.
So that’s what happened. They called Jackie. In the meantime the nurses tidied up around my bed and got me a clean, warm blanket. They had used the other one to catch blood that had ran down my arm. They said they were going to give me a little break and then left me alone for a few minutes. I turned over on my side and held the blanket against my mouth and nose. I didn’t want anyone to hear me cry.
I stared at the curtain and just started praying. God, I can’t handle this … It’s too much. It hurts … it hurts all over. It doesn’t usually hurt this much. I don’t want them to touch me anymore. God, please … this is torture … I can’t …….... I know you’re here. You’re always with me. You tell me you’ll never leave me and I can come to you anytime. Well, I’m here and I really need you to be here too right now. God, please … make it stop ...
Jackie pulled up a chair and sat at the foot of my bed after a brief look over my arm and not finding anything of interest. She started rubbing my foot with her hands, to try and warm them up, she said. She told me to try and relax and to take a few deep breaths. With that little bit of compassion from her, I felt a fresh stream of tears run down from the corners of my eyes. She told me that if I take a few deep breaths it will help the blood to flow better through my veins and that my blood needs oxygen to flow properly.
Every time I tried to inhale my breath kept catching in my throat, which in turn led to a small gasp to get it back. It took several attempts before I got a good breath in but it really helped. I had started to feel like I was floating away. After a few good breaths I started to feel the bed beneath me again and I could feel Jackie patting the top of my foot. She spoke and told me to, stay really still now. I instantly lost my breath again. I felt the needle pierce the top of my foot and she slowly went deeper. I heard the click of the release button, indicating the iv was threaded into the vein and could be released from the needle. It’s in, she said. You need to breathe ….
And that’s all I remember. That was around 11am on Thursday. The next clear moment was when I felt Zoey’s wet nose against my arm around 9am Friday morning. Ketamine has that effect on me. It tends to wipe my memory clean of almost everything for 12 – 24 hours following the infusion.
My head felt like it had been smashed against a wall when I lifted it off my pillow this morning. I did a quick body scan to see if there was pain anywhere else. Nope. All clear! The first 24 – 48 hours after my Ketamine infusions are the closest I get to being ‘pain-free’. Today offered little space to appreciate the low pain level though. It was a freaking emotional roller-coaster inside of me today. Tears began shortly after I got up. I was washing my face and noticed that one of my earrings had fallen out at some point. This big wave of sadness just swept right over me and tears started falling. Wasn’t expecting that!
A little while later I was laying back on the couch and David was sitting on the opposite end. We were watching an episode of Station 19 on TV together and there was an intimate scene between a husband and wife. More tears … and no words to explain.
And that’s how the day has been. Little random things causing waves of tears. I was outside planting some things my therapist gave me, and tears were flowing. I accidentally bumped my leg, more tears. David called out and asked me to come outside so he could show me something and I cried while I walked out across the garden. Then just before I got in the shower I sat on the bench in the bathroom and cried even more. Like seriously. There was no end to the tears. And it all felt like it came from a gut-wrenching sadness that had tremendous force behind it. It could not, would not, be stifled.
The day is over now. It is late, or early, depending on how you see 3am. I’m reluctant to go to bed, as I sometimes find being in a horizontal position also heightens my emotions. And I’m feeling pretty raw as it is. But we are going out of town tomorrow, for the night. On Sunday our God-daughter has her very first communion and we’d like to be there with her. My face is swollen. My eyes are bloodshot and puffy. And my mood is all over the place. But the very least I can do is attempt to get a few hours of rest. Even if that means just lying still, with my eyes closed, while my brain continues trailing off.
Stillness is not effortless for me. It takes work sometimes. Wellness takes effort and I’m trying my best to do what I have to do, even when I don’t want to. Do what you have to do to make it to see one more sunrise. 🌻
I wondered why the clocks didn’t stop On that day. My world stopped spinning When I walked into the bathroom and found you submerged in a bathtub full of bloody water. I wondered how the rest of the world could keep going Without you here. You took a piece of me with you On that day. But I forgive you. I’d forgive you a million times over if it would bring you back to me.
I sweep the shower curtain aside. A few water droplets fall from my hair before gliding down over my bare chest. My skin is bright red from the hot water. Steam rolls out through the window that was slightly ajar. It’s been a busy weekend, but it’s over now and we’re back home again.
It’s mid afternoon and David is in lying down, trying to catch a nap before he heads in to work tonight. Last night was a late one for us. Being the designated driver David spent the early hours of the morning taking ppl home. It was almost 4am when our heads finally touched the pillow. 5 hours later we were back in the car again. Thank God we are home. So while he rests, with the dogs curled up beside him, I go off to shower and calm myself down. In my own shower. In my own bathroom. In my own house. Safety.
The scalding water distracted me from the thoughts that had been swirling around in my mind. The tension that was trapped in my body that had been brought on by so much overstimulation, washed off me freely, mixed with the coconut body wash.
But the second I stepped out and my foot touched the towel that was on the floor, something didn’t feel right. The hair rose on the back of my neck. Goosebumps covered my arm and legs. The frantic beating of my heart became confused with memories of someone pounding on the door. Oh my god … there was someone else in the house.
Fear wound itself around me at the thought and circulated within my mind until it flooded my entire body with panic. I pulled the bath towel tighter around me in a lame attempt to suffocate the terror. Then, I reached for the doorknob and my hand lingered there. I couldn’t turn the knob, my mind was bombarded with images of who could be waiting for me on the other side of the door.
I pulled my hand away from the door, my lungs …too paralyzed to breathe. My shoulders trembled as I held back the cry that was threatening to escape from my throat. I forced my hand over my mouth to block it. Backing up, I felt the bench on the back of my legs and I let myself fall onto the seat. What the heck is wrong with me??!
I reached for my phone on the sink next to me. Placing my thumb on the screen it recognized my fingerprint and unlocked itself. I instantly searched for David’s name and opened up a new msg window. I knew he was asleep but assumed the sound of his phone receiving a new msg would stir him. ‘Are you awake?’
I stared at the screen, silently pleading for him to pick up his phone, a feeling of something dreadful happening consumed me. No response. I msged him again. ‘I’m really sorry for bothering you. I know you’re tired, my honey. But can you get up for a minute?’
Still no response. I thought of calling instead. The ring is louder than the new msg notifications. But that would mean I would also be required to speak. I couldn’t do that. My voice was currently non-existent.
A sob got stuck in my throat and my body trembled. I felt the sting of tears on my cheeks. Panic was pulsing through my veins. I thought to myself, “This is insane. There is nothing out there. There is no one out there! This is ridiculous. Why am I so scared??” I remembered that I needed to breathe. I have a tendency to hold my breath in moments like this and have been working on becoming more aware of it. I take in a small, shakey breath through my nose. “That was then … this is now. That was then … This is now.“
I repeated the familiar words to myself several times. I stood up from the bench I had been sitting on, and reached for the doorknob again. As my fingers touched it panic surged, threatening to drown out the mantra i had just been repeating to myself. Thatwasthen … this is now. Slowly I turned the knob and opened it ever so slightly. My chest burned from needing to exhale, but the grip of terror was strangling my throat.
I paused, waiting for that looming, dark figure to inch his way into the bathroom … but he didn’t. And suddenly I realized that it had happened again. My brain had forgotten where we were.
It’s 2024 … you’re in your own house … David is here … he’s asleep … you’re here in your own bathroom …
I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face. My lungs began to relax and I took a few shakey breaths. I grabbed my robe and pulled it close around my body, letting the towel fall to the floor. Feeling ashamed and broken I left the bathroom and went to our room. I quietly positioned myself on the bed next to David, sound asleep. A few silent tears fell before I cuddled in closer to his back. The warmth of his body against mine reminded me once again …
You’re not crazy. It has all been real, and it stretched you, and at times, it has felt as if it would even kill you. Their words broke your heart. Their actions broke your trust. That injury broke your body. That illness broke your hope. That circumstance broke your spirit. BUT GOD… He came to overcome it all. And guess what? It never broke you! It challenged you, and it LOST!
You’re still here. You’re not “just” a survivor. You’re a fighter. You’re a warrior. And yes, you may be covered in scars, but they are scars of deaths defeat! Your scars have become a memoir of your journey, and they tell ONLY a story of triumph!
You see, they don’t see you the same way anymore, because a warrior was birthed from the destruction and fires in your life! What was meant to kill you, didn’t and while some keep judging you for starting over, others are clapping because you never quit! You went into the flames covered in life’s grit, but came out of the fire polished in Gods grace!
The abuse, the pain, the anxiety, the bullying, the fear, the anguish, the doubt, the worry, the crushing, the pulling, the words, the moments, the days and the years – were real, but so was your strength and resilience. You did it. You survived everything they said you wouldn’t! You are still standing, and you are a WARRIOR!
I’ve spent my entire life believing I’m not smart. I sort of “know” I’m smart, at least in some ways, but I usually still feel “stupid.”
Maybe what’s happening might be a form of an emotional flashback? Feeling young and vulnerable, operating from the same emotional mindset and with the same emotional tools as I did when I was a child? Possibly.
But another part of it is just good old fashioned conditioning. If we’re told over and over again that we’re stupid, we start to believe it. Repetition works its way into our brain, whether or not we initially believe what’s being repeated.
When the people SENDING the message that we’re “stupid” are people who have known us a long time, maybe who even share our name and DNA, maybe people we were dependent upon for years … it becomes REALLY hard to truly test or second guess that message.
The thing about the belief that I’m not smart is, there’s no way to really disprove it. Not to my satisfaction, anyway. Someone can point out lots of ways that I seem gifted or talented, and I’ll just counter that stuff by saying it doesn’t count.
Is that what a “mental filter” is? The thing where we decide that the good stuff about ourselves “doesn’t count” for various reasons … but all the bad stuff, well, of COURSE that’s all true. Is that what a mental filter is?
It’s all a bunch of BS in my opinion.
Smart people get treated like they are stupid every day. It has nothing to do with intelligence. It often has to do with someone’s desire to control us by lowering our self-esteem.
A part of healing, I think, is to consider the possibility that maybe, possibly, we ARE smart … that the people who told us we weren’t maybe had some other agenda.
Reading is so friggin frustrating. Books used to be my escape. Growing up I was an avid reader. I never went anywhere w/o a book and I usually had more than one going at a time. There’d be one in my bedroom that I’d be reading, I’d have another that I’d carry around with me and I’d read a few pages whenever I had a few minutes to spare, and then I’d have a 3rd that I would read at night in the bath. I’d soak in a hot bubble bath and read until the water went cold. When I was in high school that’s how I’d also do my studying for exams. And I’d have no trouble whatsoever keeping the storylines straight when switching between books.
Now I can’t even keep focused on one and I hate that. I’d give anything to be able to pick up a book and read like that again.
I love books. The smell of the paper when you open a book for the first time. Mmmm. One of the best smells ever! But reading is super frustrating. It could be a book or an article online. Blog posts. Anything really. Unless it’s something I am extremely interested in. Then I can soak up every single word. But generally, reading is a real challenge.
I will read the page, but after I get to the bottom of that page I realize that I was thinking about something else and didn’t really read the page even though I was reading. I know, sounds stupid.
So, I read it again. I read a few sentences and by the time I get to the bottom of the page … same friggin thing. So I read it over again … concentrating this time. But I get distracted by the fact that I am concentrating …
By this point, I have read, and absorbed maybe half of the page. This is no exaggeration. In fact, this is more of a watered-down version of actual events.
Like seriously. Something so simple as reading a book is such a frustrating thing for me. I have a shelf, lined with books waiting to be read and all I can do is avoid them.
They merely serve as a reminder of yet another thing that is extra difficult for me.
Oh, how I wish self compassion wasn’t so hard for me. It’s like my brain purposely goes against it. It doesn’t come natural. There’s a part of me that tends to speak in a compassionate way yet she gets knocked down repeatedly. Kind words spoken to self makes the demon mad.
When things are quiet in my mind and I sense safety in my body my thoughts are more productive, kinder towards myself, hopeful, truthful, encouraging, calming … they’re healthy. But more often than not my system is fired up. I yearn to feel safety but it’s a very rare thing for me.
I try and make the best of what I have. But the slightest little thing pushes me into high alert and my system begins firing threat signals. A sound, a smell, a cell phone notification, a car door, a movement, a bodily sensation … these things all crush my sense of safety and my body takes over. My heart rate shoots up, trembling overwhelms my body, sleeplessness haunts me at night and exhaustion plagues me by day.
I want solitude. I want healing. But it’s so far out of reach that it’s a waste of time to even try.
What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?
My middle name is Danielle, which is the name I mostly go by.
It’s strange, how some parents give their kids multiple names, but choose to put the name they want to acknowledge the child by as a middle name. It has created some interesting situations for me throughout my life.
All legal documents have to use the name given on your birth certificate. Mine is Bridget Danielle. From the time I entered this world my family acknowledged me as Danielle. People who meet me get to know me as Danielle. Growing up I didn’t hear Bridget used at all.
In my teens I thought it would be cool to have a second version of myself so some people started referring to me as Bridget. Depending on who I was with or where I was, my name got switched back and forth.
And to this day both names are used. Close friends and family know me as Danielle, my middle name. If I am dealing with a doctor or specialist at the hospital I’m known as Bridget. At the pharmacy I am Bridget. At the bank I am Bridget. At home I’m called Danielle. At church I’m Danielle. On social media I am usually Danielle.
It all came to be this way when my mom found out I was going to be a girl. Mom was a teen still living with her parents when I was unexpectedly conceived. At the same time my grandparents had just been through an ordeal of their own with another child. They had been in the process of adopting a little girl named Bridget and they were near the end stages of the adoption process when the biological mother changed her mind. My grandparents were devastated. They were so set on being the parents of little Bridget. Everything was ready for them to bring her home. To them, it felt like they had lost their child. Just as if she had died.
Then my mom learns that she is having a little baby girl and my grandparents immediately wanted to name me Bridget. They were set on having a little Bridget in their lives. Mom on the other hand, wasn’t on board with this. She had her heart set on naming me Danielle, after the author she had been obsessed with at the time. You may be familiar with her … Danielle Steele. That’s where my middle name originated from.
Anyways my mother made a compromise. To make everyone happy I was named Bridget Danielle. My grandparents got their little Bridget and my mom got her little Danielle.
And I grew up confused, never knowing from one day to the next who I was supposed to be lol
26. Can you whistle? Slightly. I can make a sound but that’s about it 27. Where were you born? Grand Falls, NL Canada 28. Any Surgeries? 2 (repair of shoulder following a traumatic arm amputation. And a knee repair) 29. Piercings? 6 30. Shower or bath? Shower 31. Last song you heard? Amazing Love 32. Broken bones? Cheek bones, nose, chin, 5 fractures along my spine, 2 toes 33. How many TV’s in your home? 2 34. Worse pain? Recovering from a car accident was brutal from a physical standpoint. But the worst pain I’ve ever felt was deep within my being. Mental illness was destroying my mind as well as my body and I was crying out to God to let me die. That is a pain unlike any other. 35. Do you like to sing? Yes 36. Are your parents still alive? Yes 37. Do you like to go camping? Love it!! 38. What do you binge watch? All the medical drama shows … 9-1-1/Grey’s Anatomy/The Good Doctor/New Amsterdam etc 39. Favorite Pie? Oooohh. That would definitely have to be cherry 40. Favorite time of day? Sunrise. The darkness is leaving and a new day is dawning 41. Chocolate or vanilla? Definitely vanilla 42. Have you ever been on a plane? Yes. I flew to Ontario to a rehab center then flew back home several months later, clean, sober, and alive! 43. What did you want to be when you grew up? A social worker 44. What is the best job you ever had? I absolutely loved working as an early childhood educator at a local daycare and preschool center 45. Favorite movie? Girl Interrupted 46. Christmas or Halloween? Christmas all the way!! 47. What color is your toothbrush? Purple 48. Bad habits? Skipping meals, not opening mail right away, ignoring the signals my body sends me 49. Last person you hugged? David (husband) 50. What is one thing you could talk about for hours? My dogs!
1. Do you put ketchup on hotdog? Not a fan of either 2. Choice of pop? Sprite Zero 3. Do you put salt on watermelon? What?! Ppl actually do that?? Gross!! 4. Can you swim? No. Never learned as a child. Too afraid of losing my breath. 5. How do you eat your steak? Well done 6. Favorite food? Soups 7. Do you believe in ghosts? The Holy ghost and evil spirits 8. What do you drink in the morning? Cranberry juice and water (half and half) 9. Can you do 100 push ups? Hahaha!!!! Yeah right. 10. Summer, Winter, Spring, Fall? Fall. Gotta love hoodie weather 11. Favourite animal? Dogs! Guinea pigs are a close second 12. Tattoos? 5 (so far) 13. Do you wear glasses? yes but not all the time 14. Do you have any fears in this crazy world? Yeah, more than I’d like to admit 15. Do you have a nickname? Angel 16. Favorite Candy? Gummy bears are the best. Duh. But there’s no candy in existence that I would not try. Especially if they’re sour. 17. Favorite smell? Salt water air 18. Rain or Snow? Snow. The dogs like it better and it’s not as messy 19. Can you change a tire? No. I don’t drive. 20. Favorite flower? I very much prefer house plants 21. Can you drive a stick? Nope 22. Kids? Two (they have 4 legs and lots of fur) 24. Favorite colour? Black or pink 25. Food you refuse to eat? Rabbit meat, seal meat, anything spicy
Christmas was … different … this year. I usually enjoy the overall feeling of the season but its like that christmassy feeling was non-existent this year. I don’t know if its because I was in the hospital or maybe its because my pain level has been so high, but December month brought a lot of sadness.
A different kind of sadness though. The kind where it felt as if my heart was literally aching. I found myself frequently holding back tears. There’s been such a deep yearning in my soul. A longing for things I dont have and can’t do. Its the kind of sadness that comes with grieving for a lost loved one, wishing you could have just 5 more minutes with them. Except no one has died. It’s a sadness that reaches right down to my core.
All the hype about the holidays portrays big, happy families gathered around each other, enjoying lots of food and presents, baking cookies, decorating trees together, small children full of excitement, couples building snowmen and having snowball fights, shopping and buying all sorts of things, and so on. All the images say we should be happy. But what about those who have no family near them and they have very small social circles? Or those who are unemployed and can’t afford to buy things for anyone outside of their immediate family? What about couples going through a divorce? Or those in abusive relationships and live in fear of saying the wrong thing? And, what about those who are not able to have children of their own?
Enjoying some quality time with my good friend’s kidlettes ♡
David and I went to this one particular event together. A community dinner served by the Evangel Pentecostal Church that was followed by a selection of musical performances. There was another family at our table with their 5 year old little girl and she became the highlight of our night. The joy just emanated from her. She was wearing an adorable red dress, her hair in pig tails, complete with red bows. She was so happy, so excited, so … innocent.
(Stock photo)
I had a lump in my throat the whole evening, making it very hard to swallow my meal. Santa came and called the kids up front and she was just vibrating with excitement. We watched her as she went up and as she looked over at her mom, waving as they took her picture, I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. It felt like my heart was just shattering inside my chest. I had to excuse myself and blindly made my way to the bathroom, where I covered my mouth and spent a good 5 minutes sobbing, silently. After touching up my make up I went back to the table and sipped coffee as if nothing had ever happened.
I wear the mask quite well.
Sometimes infertility hits ppl at the most random times and this christmas was one of those times for me. I feel like I have to keep it to myself because I know David deals with a lot of guilt about not being able to give me a child of our own. If he was to see me during these moments it would just make it much worse for him and I don’t want that. Except I also don’t like how isolating this is. I wish I knew how to turn this into something we could go through together. I wish I could let myself be vulnerable and let my own husband see those hurting parts of me. Except I retreat into my shell and hide … the only thing I’m actually good at.
Her Complex Musings 
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