Flailing Not Failing

26 Monday Jan 2026

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I spoke with someone today who encouraged me to remove words about “failing” from my vocabulary. This was in direct response to how I feel about taking care of my special needs child. I went to her expressing the fact that I feel like I’m failing and have failed him. We had hoped that his school attendance would have improved by now, but it hasn’t. I had hoped that he would be more independent by now, but he’s not. We used to manage hygiene issues, but not so much lately. We just seem to be failing on every front.

My friend helped me to see some perspective. She has a (now) adult child with special needs, and she told me that outsiders can’t see the hamster wheel that I am constantly running around. Unless you are in it, or have experienced it, you have no idea what parents like me face daily.

I thought this was a great analogy for my life and my brain. It’s like a real-life “Groundhog Day,” except it’s not a movie, and I have never robbed a bank, nor do I have any plans to do so. This hamster wheel, or “groundhog day” that is my life is about a million small things, all day, every day: Brush your teeth, take your pills, clean up your mess, change your clothes, wash your hands . . . add onto these small things larger concerns such as school attendance (or non-attendance), anxiety, suicidal ideations, PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance), and the almost always present need for one-on-one attention and support, and it’s no wonder that I’m just running and running and running around this wheel, seemingly getting nowhere.

But, as she pointed out, I’m learning. She explained to me that to have “failed” at something, there must be a “right way” of doing it, and knowledge of what that is. Otherwise, I am not “failing,” I am still learning and doing my best. There is no script or playbook for raising neurotypical children, but at least the systems of the world are setup to support you and them. When it comes to brain function, every brain is different. Which means that, when it comes to raising a neurodivergent person in a world that isn’t designed for them, there is even less of a script or playbook by which to go.

I don’t write these things to complain, or seek pity, but to help myself process, continue to learn, to grow, to take care of myself. Life is rough, complicated, exhausting, and beautiful. It’s okay to be flailing, not failing. Maybe you have a similar situation and you just needed to hear that you are not failing,

In Memoriam

14 Wednesday Jan 2026

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It will soon be one year since my Mom died. January 23. I have been thinking about what I want to do on that day, how to honour her memory, how I should observe the day. One thing I am going to do is place an “In Memoriam” in our local newspaper. I read the obituary section every week, and I am always touched by the “In Memory of . . .” entries for people who have died awhile ago; it is beautiful that they are still remembered and honoured. I decided that I wanted to do the same for my Mom.

I have a block canvas of the following poem, “Until We Meet Again,” that sits on my “Mom table,” along with the shamrock I inherited from her, a picture of us with my kids, and a note about what my mother meant to me. I am submitting this poem along with the photo of my Mom to be included in the obituary section. It goes like this:

Until We Meet Again

We think about you always,
We talk about you still,
You have never been forgotten,
And you never will.

We hold you close within our hearts,
And there you will remain,
And guide us through our lives
Until we meet again.

Jude McCoy (Iverson-Keeler)
September 11, 1952 – January 23, 2025

I don’t know that I believe that I will, really, see my Mom again. I’m not sure what I think about death and the afterlife. We don’t really know, do we? We can believe in certain things; have faith that death and afterlife look a certain way. But, we don’t really know, right?

But, even if I can’t say that I know that I will see my Mom again, I do wish that I would see her again.

I don’t hold onto the idea as a promise, an inevitability, or even a probability. I think I hold the idea as more of a shaky hope; a hope that death might not be the end – that we might be reunited in some way after all.

I have been experiencing all these opposing thoughts since my mom died. Knowing that there is no way of proving the existence of life after death, but since I lost my Mom, I really hope that there is. There is no way of knowing if there is a “Heavenly Father” and that my Mom is “standing in his presence on holy ground” (Davis, 1983); but for her sake . . . I really hope there is and that she is standing there. I don’t believe in ghosts or angels, but I really want to think that my Mom is still here with me, like a ghost or an angel. I believe that when we die, we are dead and that’s all there is to it; but I want to think that this is not true in for my Mom, that she is not gone, that death isn’t the end.

When it’s all said and done, I’m okay with acknowledging that I just don’t know.

What I do know is that I can keep her memory alive. I can let her know, if she is out there somewhere, how I feel. I can tell her that I still think about her and miss her always. I can share her memory with others, remind them too. I can remind the world of the amazing person it has lost. I can honour her by remembering – and that’s just what I will do.

Moving Forward

08 Thursday Jan 2026

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I have never been much of a New Year’s resolution-type of person. I do, however, tend to have themes for years. For example, last year was “2025 can suck it,” because I started the year with my mother very ill, and feared the worst would happen, and it did, and I lost her on January 23, 2025. So, 2025 can, in fact, suck it.

This year I have been drawn to the phrase, “Moving Forward.” I think this is very fitting for me for several reasons.

It is the first year I am moving forward without my mother, my main support system, my kids’ Nana, and my best friend. I have been reflecting on the fact that losing my mother wasn’t like losing one person, but a loss of multiple people, for all the different roles she played in my life; it is important to acknowledge and grieve for all of these.

I have a child at home with several disabilities that are making school attendance impossible. As a result, I have had to leave work and have been at home with him for two years. I have felt as though my life has just been “on hold” while I sit and wait and hope that he might be well enough to return to school. Not anymore. I have made the decision to move forward and have applied for a part-time job with some flexibility for hours. I have also decided it is time to accept that this might be our permanent status and am moving forward in that direction, accepting things as they are.

Similarly, I am ready to focus more on myself and my well-being this year. I want to move forward unafraid to put myself first, for the sake of my mental, emotional, and physical health. I am learning how to want to take better care of myself, without feeling guilty, or pressuring myself to be “perfect.” I have some things I want to do better, but I am not going to be rigid about it or put myself down. I am moving forward in grace, patience, understanding and kindness towards myself.

Finally, I have lived in the past in my head for twenty years. It has been exhausting constantly reliving and rehashing moments and memories from the past; I wonder all the time ‘what could have been’ and ‘what if’? I am ready to leave the past behind and move forward in my life. There are people I have considered “friends” for years, even though they never reach-out or attempt to make contact. It’s time to let them lie in the past. I am moving forward with what is my life, with those who are in my life.

There is a phrase that has been circling in my brain for a couple of weeks now, I saw it on a sign somewhere; it said, “These are the good ol’ days.” I have been thinking about it constantly. One day I will look-back on these days in the same way I have looked-back on my last 20 years, as the good days. I want to enjoy the good days now and not be saying “I miss the good, ol’ days” in the future.

Therefore, I am moving forward in these good, ol’ days, soaking-in each moment and memory, realizing that the best is now, not yet to come.

Make Peace with Love

11 Saturday Oct 2025

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Here it comes. Another boring, sentimental, grossly emotional blog about love.

Love is complicated and it is a power in and of itself. We can’t control love. We can’t make love do what we ask of it. It just is.

Love brings the greatest of joy and the deepest of pain. It punishes just as intensely as it rewards.

There are many different types of love. There is the love of a parent, constant, steady, and unconditional. There is the love of a partner, compromising, negotiating, laughing, crying, fighting and making up. There is the love we carry for those we have lost, messy, angry, wrenching, seeking and feeling lost. Unrequited love that continues to beat us down whilst simultaneously sprinkling hope of what could be over every breath taken. The love of a child, pure, selfish, goofy, tender, sweet and vulnerable. There is the love you have for an elderly parent, fearful of what is to come, proud to be their child, tired by the weight of a lifetime, wise beyond your years, solid as a rock. The love of a friend who showed-up just when you needed them and gave their best to you when you needed someone to believe in you. There is the love of a sibling, not always present, but always there, behind you, you know that they will always get your back when you need it.

I have had the honour of experiencing all of these loves, and more.

I feel privileged to be loved by many different people in as many different ways.

I just wish that it was easier to be, well, a human. My heart aches and burns, it twists and gnaws at me every single day for people I miss. I miss friends and family who live miles away. I miss friendships that have faded into the background of memories. I think about lovers, desired lovers, and I wonder what life could have been like if things had been different.

I get angry when I think about people who have intruded on my life, steering it in their own direction, acting selfishly and not from a place of love.

Don’t get me wrong. I feel all those cliche feelings of ‘not wanting anything to change’ because it ‘would mean I wouldn’t have my children.’ And this is true. Now. But, if things had been different, I wouldn’t know my children and I wouldn’t know what I would be missing; I would have different things. Maybe different children for whom I would have all the typical, cliche, feelings.

My Mom and I used to play all kinds of “choose your own adventure” type of games – If you could go back and redo a year of your life, what year would it be? If you could only save one of your siblings, which would it be? If you could only be with one person for the rest of your life, who would it be? And so on.

But, can’t I have it all? I want it all. I want to live in New Zealand and Canada at the same time. I want to be here where my stepdad lives and in Toronto. I want to be with my partner and my children, but I also want other experiences and relationships. I want to be with my family, but I also want to be alone. I want to go back and relive some experiences in my past (maybe do it better the second time around), but I also wouldn’t want to lose what I have now.

I want everything to change and nothing to change all at once.

Does anyone else live with this conflict pelting you in the face every day? How do you deal with it?

I blame love.

There is too much I love in life, too many people I love. Too many lived experiences I love and more experiences I would love to have. Too many countries I would love to live in. Love that exists alone, hiding in shadows afraid to be seen. Love. I love you. I love you. You break my heart, but I love you. You are a wicked, sinister, evil, devil. Your necessity just makes you more grotesque.

One day I will make peace with love.

Until then, I will continue to fight, to cry, to long, to reminisce, to wonder what could have been, to serve, to play; I will have fun, fight, search, smile, frown, learn, seek, comfort, and hope. Hope that one day I will feel more complete, that I won’t feel like I’m always competing with love.

One day I will make peace with love.

Mom’s Birthday

11 Thursday Sep 2025

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Today is my Mom’s birthday. The first birthday without her.

Throughout the years there have been many fun birthday memories made…

Like the time I had to borrow money from someone I had just met to send her a birthday card via Purolator, because she had always wanted to receive mail from a delivery service like that.

Then there was her 40th birthday. I made such a big deal about her being “over the hill.” I made her an apron that made an age joke, and we filled a laundry basket full of “old age” gifts. Now, here I am at 45 years old, and I can’t believe that I thought 40 was “over the hill!” I feel like I’m just getting started in many ways.

One year I held an “every birthday celebration you missed” birthday. Mom was always great at celebrating. She made every occasion one full of wonder, joy, magic, sacrifice, and love. But, she didn’t have the same experiences growing up, so I planned a party for her that included balloons, a “pin the tail” game, treat bags, a fun bday cake, and a few pass the parcel type games.

As I’ve been reflecting on my Mom, on this her birth day, I have been reminded of the so many ways she filled this world with love and joy, and I have a new depth of appreciation for the fact that I got to be her daughter.

Not everyone has a woman who gave so much of herself to let the ones she loved know how special they were to her. I will miss this. Yet…I take comfort in the words of those who knew her and know me best, who have said that she still shines through me. Her joy and love is still here, an integral part, in our celebrations because I carry her gift for celebrating. She has instilled in me a gratitude for life and for loved ones; this outlook informs what I do, decisions I make, how I treat others, and so much more, every single day. I am proud of this legacy of love.

I made a little video to celebrate these things.

Happy Birthday, Mom.

Thank you for being such an incredible source of life, joy, and love.

I’ll love you forever.

xxxooo

Art

26 Wednesday Mar 2025

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Sometimes I make art.

I am not a professional, but it is something I do that helps relax me. My current favourite is making decoupage on canvas of things I find inspiring from my ‘page a day’ calendar.

I went on a bit of a spree after my Mom died. I found it was a way to soothe my soul and get in touch with my deeper self and feelings.

I also make them for those I love the most; I have forgotten to take pictures of some of these, but they are out there.

It’s important to take time out for ourselves. To find ways to connect with our minds and emotions.

I find that taking an hour out of my day to make something with my hands helps to center me.

This is something I have been actively working on; taking time for myself and not apologizing for it. As I do this more regularly, I find I become a better person; I am able to love more fully, I have more energy, I have more patience. It’s a win-win-win situation.

I also sleep better. Though, I still have amazingly vivid and usually wild dreams. I love my dreams because I get to spend time with people I might not see otherwise.

So, grab yourself a coffee or tea and sit and make something. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t even have to be great. It just has to be you; a piece of you. Let it reflect whatever it is you are feeling.

You might even surprise yourself with what you are able to create!

My Song for You

22 Saturday Mar 2025

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My Song for You

Prelude

I could sing a song to you – A song for your heart only

Would you hear me? Would you listen?

I could sing a song for you; this is my song for you.

Vs. 1

In the mannequin’s eyes I see you looking at me

Pleading with me to come and save you

The door closes but the heart still beats

Reaching for you I back away

But I am here; I have never left you.

Chorus

This is my song for you – This is my song for love

We should have been – Could have been

Will be a great thing one day; Maybe today is that day

Because this is my song. Yes, this is my song

For you

Vs. 2

I heard you singing words today – That made my heart pound wildly

Were you singing those words to me? I think that message is meant for me

You dream of me and I dream of you; we’ll be together again

Chorus

This is my song for you – This is my song of love

We should have been – Could have been

Will be a great thing one day; Maybe today is that day

Because this is my song. Yes, this is my song

For you

Bridge

Storm clouds – Snow clouds

Clouds that hide the sun away

Each one a place for us – We live together in the sky

And no one can ever pull us apart; I am the moon, you are the stars

You surround everything I do – Light and life and love

All in my song for you

Chorus

This is my song for you – This is my song for love

We should have been – Could have been

Will be a great thing one day; maybe today is that day

Because this is my song. Yes, this is my song

For you

Enough. Enough Now.

21 Friday Mar 2025

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When I was in high school, I had a teacher that would talk to us about personal matters. Among them was the idea of love and how he was struggling with whether, or not, to propose to his girlfriend. I remember him talking about how he didn’t believe that there was one person for each of us. This was an idea that rocked my world as a young, naïve, tender youth. I felt offended for his girlfriend. ‘How could he even be thinking about asking her to marry him if he doesn’t even think of her as the one,’ I thought to myself. Now that I have many more years of life experience, I totally understand him.

Today’s youth would more likely be confused by my adolescent belief that there was “the one” than they would his idea that there are many people with whom he could be happy. For today’s youth, the concept of love and relationships is much more open than it was when I was young. Polyamorousim is accepted as an option, along with many other ways of living that were simply not accepted when I was young. I am very glad for this shift as I have never understood why it matters to anyone who someone else loves, or how anyone else wishes to love or live.

Is it possible to love more than one person at a time? I believe it is.

Is it true that there is one special person for each of us? I don’t think so.

What happens when other people influence major decisions, drastically changing the course of our lives?

Back in the day, when my love for the Christian God…or, perhaps it’s better that I say, when my love for my idea of the Christian God determined every move I made, word I spoke, and step I took, the direction of my life was decided by the belief that I needed to do as He willed and wanted.

This made me extremely susceptible to influence from others; mortals, who had no further insight into me, to “God,” or to what should have been than I did. In truth, if I had been more independent and less brainwashed, it would be fair to say that they had less insight into myself and my life than I did. Unfortunately, this is not how I viewed things then. I believed that they had greater insight, and I was silly, sinful even, to not listen to them and follow their leadership.

This led me to some wonderful places, to be true, but it also led me to even more harmful places that I never should have been. I have worked hard through the years to restore what they broke; to find beauty in the ugliness and hope in the despair that they wrought on my life.

One of these huge moments had me packing up my life and moving across the country, and then an entire ocean, to a completely different hemisphere, to follow what I was told was God’s plan for my life. But it was not an easy thing to do. In fact, I was terrified and sickened by the idea the entire time. I remember speaking to my friends, pleading with them to convince me to stay; to tell me it was the wrong thing to do. To save me.

No one did.

They all just…let me go.

I left terrified, heartbroken, scared, and unsure of everything; especially myself.

I remember when my best friend brought me to the airport I sobbed; I sobbed and begged to stay. It was beyond her.

That day when we were scrap booking together, were you spending time with me because you just wanted to be with me, to spend time with me?

When we listened to Ryan Adams sing “Come Pick Me Up,” were you trying to send me a message?

Do you realize that it is me that you wrote that song about? I was the one who told you that the stars don’t shine in the city. You were walking me home after we watched “A Beautiful Mind” together. I was missing my country home, where the stars were endless and felt as though you could reach-out and touch.

And that time in the magical snowfall; I was sure there was an intensity of feeling that wanted me to stay, wishing that we were alone together.

Am I making all of this up? I was so unsure of myself back then, I barely knew how to think for myself. I did know, however, that I disagreed with many of the decisions that were being made at the expense of people’s lives. Decisions that hurt and wounded people. I did speak up when I really believed differently than what was being done, but each time I was dismissed, implanting further the idea that I couldn’t trust myself.

I remember you saying once that this leader “wasn’t always right” and “didn’t know everything.” I shrugged it off and figured you were just having a moment.

I always say that I have no regrets in life but, sometimes I do wish that I could go back and live those days knowing then what I know now – about myself. I wish I could do it again as the self-assured, self-aware person that I am now. I wonder how different life would be.

But we can’t go back. We can’t do it again, no matter how much we might wish to be able to do so. Maybe that is for the best.

Despite this, I want you to know that I loved you, I love you still, and I will probably always love you. Maybe you loved me too. Maybe I’ll never know, and that’s okay.

“Enough. Enough now.”

It’s Okay to be Okay

13 Thursday Mar 2025

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As time marches on, I am becoming better at being okay. My Mom is gone. I cannot bring her back, and there is little I can do to control any sadness, grief, feelings of emptiness, or the sting of loss. I have recently realized that I have been hiding from a lot of these feelings and experiences, shoving my head in the ground like an ostrich, pretending that the threats don’t exist.

But recently, I have forced myself to yank my head out of the ground and let everything be what it is. The most incredible thing has happened as a result, I have found that there are times that I am okay. More than that, I have come to learn that it’s okay to be okay.

I really struggled at the start when people would say to me, ‘what would your Mom want for you?’ All I could think, or feel was that she would want us to be together; she would want to be alive. Then, I would get angry.

I hid from things, and watched as my world fell apart; my house became a constant disaster zone, my children were becoming more feral each day, nobody was eating proper meals. It was as if I had totally given up on myself, my family, and my life.

Then, I realized one day while talking to Mom (yes, I talk to her…I’m not crazy. It just helps) that she would be so sad to see what I was allowing my life to become, and this upset me. I had to do something – for her sake.

It’s okay to grieve. It’s okay if this takes a long time or happens quickly. It’s okay to fall apart. It’s okay to hide your head in the sand. It’s okay to get angry at yourself for hiding.

And, most importantly, it’s okay to be okay.

As I have sat here this evening, enjoying my newly cleaned house, feeling refreshed by the amount of water I have consumed today, jazz going in the background, and ambient lighting reflecting the peace of my mind, I am okay.

And that’s okay.

Grieving – Let’s Make a Mess

02 Sunday Mar 2025

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When I began with my grief after my mom died I was of the mind that I wanted to really get into it so that I could get out of it. I tried to rush it along, thinking if I gave it all of my focus for a couple of days that it would go away. A few hours into this journey I began to realize that there is no way to hurry grief. You can try to hide from it, but it will find you. You can try to speed it up, but it is going to ignore your efforts and take its time, doing its thing.

Grief is a messy process and it is best if you can allow it room to make its mess without trying to clean it up.

I have been reading multiple books on grief and they have been extremely helpful.

Here are some of my favourites:

https://a.co/d/9c0QLz4 https://a.co/d/hstyQNA https://a.co/d/acJc0wQ

I just started a new one this evening, it’s more of a workbook for grief, and I have already been touched by its approach to grieving. The book is called, “How to Carry What Can’t Be Fixed,” by Megan Devine.

https://a.co/d/9s3zfjI

Grieving and writing have a lot in common; importantly, both grieving and writing need space and the freedom to make a mess. I like how Devine worded it when she stated that “Translating your inner emotional experience into words and pictures is a messy practice” (4)

“It’s hard to speak the truth if you have to make it perfect” (Devine 4)

I feel like it is fitting to share a letter I wrote to my mom on the morning she was cremated, keeping in mind those words of Megan Devine, “It’s hard to speak the truth if you have to make it perfect” (Devine). I am trying to do what feels right inside of me to allow the expression and outworking of my grief, providing it whatever space it needs to make a mess.

So, here goes:

January 29, 2025 (Wed) 5:16am

Mom,

You are being cremated this morning. I now how much you disliked and were afraid of fire; I will be with you. I am so sorry that this is happening. You should be alive. I should be waiting for another couple of hours to text you to let you know how the boys are doing (they are both sick, by the way!).

I realized this morning that I not only lost my mother, but I’ve also lost a best friend. It’s no secret that you weren’t perfect (but who is?), but I really loved you and to me you were still the only mom I would ever want. You loved us all so much; I am so sorry for any ways you feel that we failed you; especially at the end.

I feel the loss of the person who loved my children in a way that nobody else on this planet can/does/did.

I mourn the loss of that profound, special, powerful, relationship. I mourn the loss of the person I would always text little updates on life, anything and everything from the infamous “poop reports” to “SOS! We are falling apart and need our mom/Nana/Mother-in-Law,” knowing that there would always be a reply that would make everything better.

I love how you loved, honoured, respected, protected, and cared for Jono; you taught me how to have more compassion for him and to be more caring, loving, demonstrative and supportive towards him. You honoured me by how much you loved him.

Your husband can be very tough to read at times, but you knew him well. I miss knowing that you two had each other, no matter what, you had each other’s backs.

And now, anger. My anger. I miss you and I am so angry that you are no longer here. I am not mad at you; I am mad at the universe for letting this happen to you. You should be here. You should be here with your bright light of love, joy, peace, and comfort.

I miss you.

Love,

Your Daughter xo

The feelings surrounding my loss are wild and varied, spanning anywhere from missing her sending me pictures of her Minecraft creations, to ugly sobbing about the fact that the “ping” indicating an incoming text is, once again, not from her.

The book, “Coping with Grief,” encourages the reader to ‘tell their story: Who died, who they were to you, what changed with their death, etc. In the discussion about how this process is a messy one, my answer to the following question seems appropriate: “What thoughts or feelings are worrying you?”

Here’s what I wrote:

What if I never get over it? What if I feel crazy, and lonely, and broken, and not myself forever?

Who will support and protect me now?

What if I can’t grieve properly and I’m ruined/messed up for the rest of my life?

My life is going to have a huge chunk of emptiness in it now. What if I can’t get over it or move on from the loss?

What if I don’t want to?

“Into the darkness they go,
the wise and the lovely.”
 – Edna St. Vincent Millay –

It’s a mess. I’m a mess. Mourning is a mess. But, into this mess I must go; this is my home now, at least for awhile. I’m sure that the mess will get less, well, messy with time. But, for now it is where I am and must continue to exist. I will allow the grief to have its space, to change my world, and to change me, just as you have.

Into the darkness I go.