Tag Archives: Love

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.

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.

Hindsight is 20/20

01 Saturday Mar 2025

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There is a well-known adage that says, “hindsight is 20/20.” It means that it is often easier to see things clearly after the fact, than it is when you are in the situation or trying to make a decision.

I experience this phenomenon regularly.

For example, our basement flooded and we received insurance money to pay for the repairs. We had the choice of hiring a company to complete it or trying to do it ourselves. We chose to do it ourselves…10 months later and we are still working on it. If we had just paid someone to do it, we’d be down there enjoying the space right now. Instead, we have way too much stuff upstairs and can barely move. We desperately need the basement space back. If we had known back then what an ordeal it would have been, we may have chosen different.

I go through this a lot with raising my children. If I had known, way back at the start of things, how some of my decisions would affect my kids in the future, I would have done things a bit differently (or, at least, considered and/or tried to!). For example, if I had allowed life to be more difficult and unpleasant for my eldest, perhaps he wouldn’t struggle so much to cope with the realities of life today.

I can look-back on so many situations in my life where I was totally oblivious to what was going on but can see it clearly now. There are boys who were flirting with me, and I never knew it until recently when I think back on the interactions. There were times when I was taken advantage of, and I can see it clearly now.

Horrible restaurant experiences, getting stuck in the rain, being unprepared, having to rush to not be late…there are countless examples in my life.

One thing of which I do not have much, however, is regret. I don’t regret much about my life, even with its history of abuse, neglect, heartbreak, pain, and sorrow. Regret is an altogether different experience than realizing after (or into) an experience that, perhaps, you should have done things differently.

Regret has to do with feeling badly enough about something that you would change it if you could.

To be honest, there is only one experience in my entire life that I regret and would change if I could; I would save my mom. I regret that I didn’t catch her illness sooner to do more about it, perhaps even stop it from progressing and save her. The illness would have got her eventually, but I might have been able to slow it down and buy us all more time together.

I wish that I had known how sick she was and that it was going to be the end, I would have stayed longer with her, laughed more, hugged her more, and just spent more time enjoying her presence. I regret not doing these things; hindsight is, indeed, 20/20.

While I have always been a “deep” person and try my best to be present in every moment, these experiences have coupled up with my age and, perhaps, a few strands of wisdom to match the growing expanse of silvery highlights, has made me even more acutely aware of the importance of trying to see the hindsight first – before it happens.

‘But that doesn’t make sense,’ I hear you groan at your screen. Before you think that I’m just being stupid and decide to navigate away from this page, stop and think about this. If you could gain even a smidgeon of hindsight before the fact, don’t you think that could change how you approach and experience life?

‘Sure. But wishing it were so and making it so are two very different things.’

Are they?

Perhaps wishing it were so in and of itself makes us more keenly aware of the important aspects we need to consider before making a decision and/or experiencing something.

So, the next time you are in a situation whether you have a decision to make or are spending time with someone else, stop and think about hindsight; are there any thoughts, feelings, ideas, concerns, hopes, or fears that you have about things? Try to picture yourself in different ‘hindsight scenarios’ and maybe, just maybe, we’ll have less disappointment in experiences, and maybe even less regret.

It’s an experiment worth trying to help us live life to its fullest.

My Mom Died – I’m Seeking Life Now

24 Monday Feb 2025

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My mom died recently.

I have been waiting to write about it; waiting for the pain to not be so strong and the ability to breathe not be so weak.

It all happened so fast. I still can’t believe that she’s gone.

I keep thinking that she’s going to show-up and say, “surprise! I’m here! It was all just a joke! You’ve been pranked!”

But this is not going to happen. I will never hear her voice in real time ever again. I will never experience the feeling of one of her hugs again or watch her giggle while playing with my children.

 There will be no more “just because” gifts.

I’ve lost the person I could text at any time about anything and always get a response, and almost always get support and encouragement.

Who is going to encourage me now?

She was my biggest cheerleader; I knew that I could handle life, that I could manage, that I was special because of her. What am I now without her?

Life goes on. It’s true. I still do life things; it’s not just everyone else who continues living while she is dead. It’s me too, and this makes me feel guilty. I make dinner, eat toast, buy toilet paper, watch tv…but I do it all while thinking about her, missing her, and hoping that she will come around any corner at any moment and give me a hug and kiss and tell me how much she loves me.

My Mom called me her “Joy.” But I never got to tell her that she was my joy and that the only reason I was ever able to be a joy to her was because of all the joy that she had given to me. I am me because I am her daughter.

So now, my joy is gone, and I don’t know what to do about that.

I miss her.

I want to tear the world apart out of anguish and anger for the fact that this world took her from me.

I don’t want platitudes or to hear “it will get better with time.” These things do not help with the pain that I am feeling right now.

I want you to be angry with me. Be angry that a great mother, wife, friend, Auntie, Nana, and friend has been taken from this world. She died so quickly I didn’t get a chance to say everything I wanted, for us to do the things we talked about doing together.

There will never be another birthday card, or Christmas gift; I will never have to help her change a password again or help her return a mistaken purchase from Amazon.

We were going to watch “Wicked: Part 1” together…

She was hoping that a house on our street would come up for sale so that we could live close – we’ll never live together again.

She wanted me to wait to show Brian my convocation video when she was feeling better and could watch it with us.

We were going to watch “Grumpy Old Men” in late January and do a turkey dinner for Easter, since we did a fish dinner for Christmas.

We won’t be doing any of this now. I will do it all alone. Without my sidekick. Without my friend. Without my best friend. Without my mom.

There will always be a piece of me that is broken, a piece that is missing now.

Always.

I am learning to live with this new version of myself. This version that I have never, ever, known before. There has never been a version of me that has not had my mom – until now.

What is this life?

I thought it was a struggle before to figure out this life; seeking life now has taken on a monumentally deeper and intense meaning than any other thing I’ve experienced.

Seeking life now; when life doesn’t turn out as you had hoped it would.

2 Corinthians 3:3 – Hidden Messages

02 Monday Sep 2024

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Ghosts of who we are, who we were, and who we should have been haunt me every day.

Intimate moments shared with people who longed for me, and people for whom I longed, replay in my mind throughout the day.

What seems like several lifetimes of moments, memories, adventures, and experiences that refuse to rest. Speaking to me, warning me, encouraging me, and crying out to be released.

Relationships that could have been more – should have been more; requited and unrequited; passion and longing; connection and meaning; dark desire and innocent touch.

Crisp walks in the nighttime snow; breath upon breath and hearts beating wildly. Wanting to be safe and keep distant, longing to embrace and to be free to love one another.

Forehead kisses filled with lust. Hot breath, soft lips, and strong hands. Holding my head as if holding the world. Moments wherein dreams of another reality drift down like dew on our hearts.

Muscular forearms, promising protection and power. To be safe; loved; adored; coveted and claimed.

Another woman’s belongings. These are things that should not be in your life. Everything is out of place. Where is the lingerie and lace? The enthusiasm and excitement? I can see our things together – sharing space – a beautiful mess. It just feels right.

You have always been the one.

This is how it should have been.

We should have been together.

Years have been lost. Years of passion. Years of excitement. Years of bodies tangled and twisted in bliss – a level of completion that only we can accomplish. Together. As it was always meant to be.

My wish for you is that as you enter the next world, it is I who will be there with you – breathing warmly over you; kissing your lips tenderly; digging my fingers into your back; pulling you down. Closer. Deeper. Harder. Stronger. Louder. Forever. Ecstasy. Tenderness.

Forever together. Forever apart.

Let me in and lie with me awhile. We are together now. We can be free. Nothing need hold us back.
Nothing can stand in our way.
We are together. We are one.

We will enter eternity together – our energies forever fused, inseparable, entwined, twisted, coiled, and warped. For better or worse, you have changed my life just as I have changed yours.

I am glad I was able to contribute to some degree in your growth . . . although I must apologize for failing badly in other ways.

The Decision to Move

22 Thursday Jun 2017

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When my Mom phoned to let me know she had called an ambulance to bring my stepdad to the hospital, it was as if the world around me grew still, despite the fact that I was standing in the middle of a bustling Nathan Phillip’s Square in downtown Toronto at the very first Winter Festival being held there.

My husband, child and in-laws kept walking and I could see them pointing towards the ice skaters and, more excitedly, towards the Zamboni. But, my heart had sunk to my shoes and tears were streaming down my cheeks.

I didn’t want to spoil their moment, but I was feeling desperate. I just wanted to get away and be somewhere I could have a good cry. But, I didn’t want to scare my son.

I hung-up with my Mother and eventually rejoined my family. I explained what was going on to my husband while his parents entertained the kid. My gut instinct was to get in a plane and go be with my parents. However, this was very much complicated by the fact that our in-laws had flown all the way from New Zealand to be with us, we didn’t have any other vacation days (so I’d have to take a pay-loss), we were broke so I would have to borrow the money to go as it was, I and I have a 3-year old that I had to consider.

My husband calmed me and told me to just wait to hear some more news about what was going-on before I panicked too much.

It wasn’t until recently, when we moved-back to be with my parents, that I learned just how dire the situation was and just how terrified my parents had been. These are difficult things to convey over text or phone calls, I suppose.

When talking to my Mom in that week and a half, I was trying to discern from what she said and how she sounded whether, or not, they really needed me there.

After getting off the phone with her one evening I broke-down. When my husband came to see what was happening I sobbed “I hate feeling like I am waiting to get that nightmare call that we had better come now or it will be too late…”

My Stepdad had gone through 11 rounds of chemo for colon cancer, and this was the year after he had been flown to Ottawa for a triple bypass. Now, he was in hospital with sepsis and my Mother had said that they were struggling to keep his organs functioning.

I knew it was serious, but did not know how serious or how scared both of my parents were going-through this. I guess that’s a compliment to how well they handled it together. Still, I hate thinking that they had to go through it alone.

Once my Stepdad was out of the hospital, I said to my husband, through more sobbing one night: “I NEVER want to be in that position again. Having to ask my Mom to let me know when it got to the ‘you need to come now because he’s dying’ stage.”

I hated being in that position. I didn’t wan to wait until it was too late. I wanted to spend time with him while there was still time to spend. I wanted my son to be able to build memories of his grandparents of playing games, laughing over dinner, sharing ice cream treats and going for car rides and not just sitting in a hospital saying ‘goodbye’.

So, we made the decision to uproot our lives, and move home.

It was a decision that required a lot of sacrifice, and there are times I still can burst into tears when something I miss about our old home strikes or when my Son asks something like: “Can we go to the tick-tock park?” (A park we used to frequent behind city hall, where the large clock on old city hall, would chime on the hour).

But, the pain and the loss we experience over leaving the city that we all dearly loved pales in comparison to the pain and the loss we would feel if we had decided to stay and, instead, forfeited the time we now get to spend with family.

You just cannot put a price on that.

People say it all the time, but until you are staring it in the face it can be tough to comprehend;

life is short.

You have to look at what really matters to you and be prepared to move heaven and earth to make it happen.

It may be very difficult at times when we are missing our beloved city, but that is grief, not regret. I will never regret choosing time with my family over our life in the city.

We never know how much more time we have together. I’m determined to make the most of it.

It’s Dad’s Day

19 Sunday Jun 2016

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It’s Father’s Day here in North America and I have been on the verge of tears all day. I feel sad, frustrated, scared, helpless and very far away from my entire family.

I have a father-in-law doing radiation treatments, a Dad who is going for major surgery this upcoming Friday and a Stepdad who is undergoing chemo as he battles colorectal cancer.

And I feel helpless about it all.

It is making this Father’s Day particularly difficult for me. I wish I could do more. This feeling of helplessness is exhausting me and I feel like my reaction to it is to become a deer in headlights-standing there, frozen, unable to do anything.

My Father-in-Law has always treated me like his very own daughter. Maybe the daughter he never had. He has an incredible way of always making me feel loved and welcome. I have never felt like a visitor in his presence, but always like family. From the first time I met him he made me feel special-like he was proud that I was the one his son had chosen. This is an incredible gift that has granted me much encouragement, inspiration and support through the years.

My Dad loves the outdoors. For the first 7 years of my life, I spent a lot of time camping, swimming, hiking, canoeing, fishing and just being outdoors. When I was very young, I used to love getting up early and sitting outside the house with him, watching the sunrise. To this day, the smell of coffee always brings me right back to those warm, red, sun-bathed memories. I learned  how to be quiet, how to let your thoughts and emotions be worked-out through physical activity. I learn from him how to be hardworking and to keep moving, no matter what.

My Stepdad has been my rock, my refuge and my safety. He is a true, ‘salt of the earth’ kind of man. He is a retired farmer. He took-over his Dad’s farm and poured his blood, sweat, and tears into the land and the livestock. I still remember the year he was finally able to purchase his ‘dream’ section of land. For his entire life, a beautiful section of land separated his fields, but the owner never wanted to sell. The year the owner finally sold it, I went out on the 4-wheelers as my Stepdad, puffed with pride, showed me his new land. He pointed-out the gorgeous flowers, the luscious grass, the perfect placement of the trees. On that day, I saw a a man’s dreams come to a meaningful completion.

All three of these men have strengthened my life, supported me, and encouraged me in who I am. And, here I sit-miles away from each of them-aware that they are all going through their own, unique, struggles and circumstances and feeling responsible and guilty for my lack of returned support.

I have enjoyed spending the day with my husband, the Daddy to our own, wonderful, child. But, it has been a really difficult day as well. If I could do anything for my Dad’s this Father’s Day, it would be to remove all their pain, illness, discomfort and fear. 

Everything else just feels so empty. 

But, for what it’s worth, I love you Dads.