We all need some entertainment…

So I saw a Psychiatrist on the 14th, just to do a general check in, and while I still don’t have any diagnosis (besides the obvious work stress), she did mention an adjustment disorder as well as C-PTSD. Oh and Borderline traits. Goody on that one. We’re maxing out my Abilify at 10mgs, which is apparently the high does now. It was previously 5mgs. I’m very curious because I am now on 4mgs a day so upping to 10 will be interesting.

I left my job after being there 10 years with almost minimal send off. That was kind of depressing.

But my new job has Monday morning “week to come” meetings and follow up meetings on Thursday afternoons followed by a meeting with the director on Fridays. I love this. LOVE. Structure! Planning! Direction!

In my pre-onboarding meeting with the new boss I also got to meet one of my colleagues and she seemed really nice, funny and easy-going. I’m really looking forward to starting there. Too bad I’ll be working with such shit technology.

Another thing the psychiatrist did was refer me to a neurologist for my Cerebral Palsy and the involuntary movements I’ve been dealing with. She was very surprised to find someone with CP who has never seen a neurologist.

Other than that, I’ve become quite obsessed with the drama surrounding the british royal family these days. Hey, it keeps me entertained.

‘Cause we were raised to see life as fun and take it if we can…

So it was my birthday yesterday. I am now 43. Feeling good about it. My twitter bio “embracing her 40s” is very true, as was my previous one “denying her 30s”. My 30s feel like they passed in a blur of not really figuring out who I am and what I want, and now my 40s are very much about what belongs in my life and what doesn’t. There have been a lot of stepping back.

Speaking of which, I found this article about the INFJ Door Slam through another of the Blog Along with Effy writers. I can’t remember who, alas. I also don’t think this is really just an INFJ thing, But I definitely do this. I will nothing you if I feel hurt. It was a really interesting look at the mechanism or reasoning behind it that gave me some good insight about myself.

None of my siblings (of which I have 3. Ish.) called me on my birthday yesterday. They all texted or posted on facebook, which is great, but I miss that human connection, especially since this is my second pandemic birthday. I don’t know whether there’s a point in bringing it up though. I doubt it’ll change anything. I mean, maybe this is life now. People getting more distant and busy and unconnected as you get older.

It makes me feel very lonely because they is so little people interaction in my life these days. I always thought I’d have a partner, but I’m not going down that road because that way lies depression and sadness. And not today my friends. Fuck that.

Today is my first full day as a 43 year old and god damn it, its going to be a Good Day.

Who By Fire

Ever since the pandemic started, my sleep schedule has been super bizarre. I’m almost always up around 4:00 a.m. Without fail. Whereas before the pandemic, I’d be hard pressed to make it to work on time because I had to sleep until the very last acceptable second. It is, if you’ll excuse the terrible choice of words, like night and day.

The thing is, it is not necessarily attributable to the pandemic itself. I also quit drinking to a large degree at the same time, and not coincidentally, started smoking more Sativa, so who the hell knows why its happening. But it is weird to have so many hours in a day.

Which is not to say I’m more productive, lets not kid ourselves here.

But I have more energy and I’ve also managed to lose 30 pounds, so it’s certainly not a bad thing. Just so, so odd.

So as mentioned, J and I are sort of talking again. It’s like starting from scratch because although we’re not lying to each other, neither are we sharing things with each other. We’re talking around things. There is still much resentment there on my part, so I suppose its a good thing we can’t get together because I need more time, even though more time was her idea.

But man, as she mentioned to me the other day, we can’t seem to ever fully stop speaking to one another. Ever. There is always something one of us has to say, even if its bitchy bullshit. Or a cautiously sent emoji of a turtle. We simply cannot stop talking. So good thing this pandemic is forcing some space onto us.

New job soon. No letter of offer yet. Yay government! So we’ll see if my start day comes and goes without me.

It’s….4:22 a.m. and I am making a spotify playlist based on the relationship between two fictional characters. If that is not a commentary on my life, I’m not sure what is.


The bunny i painted for Easter

I painted this yesterday in the early hours of the morning. I did not have brown and couldn’t really mix it (i filled my travel palette well before i had any clue what i was doing). So bunny is pink.

Posted this on Facebook and it got a lot of love which i don’t get lol. But he’s cute.

Still Peopling

I’m so going to have to really really isolate myself when i get back. There are too many people here omg.

But everything is still good and fun. I’m without my laptop (i packed the cord but forgot to pack the laptop!) So I’m a little bored but i have my art toolkit with me so all is not lost. People really seemed to like the easter bunny I painted, which I will link when I am back home, which surprises me because people always seem to really like the ones that I don’t think are anything special. It’s funny that way.

My sister lent me the money to buy Art for Earth which I used my favourite art teacher’s affiliate link so I have she gets a kickback! It looks really good this year, and I’m super looking forward to all the new classes etc. There are 87!!!

Other than that not much is going on. We went by Friday Harbour this afternoon, just to see Susan’s store, so that was cool. I resisted buying. And I didn’t buy anything at the pastry shop either. Need to lose another 40 ideally. That would get me to my goal of 135. To be honest though, the first 30-35 pounds were all from not drinking. Another 40 will be harder I think, but it’s worth trying.

Talked to Angel about fun things like where I’m going to live when I retire. That is 13 years away, but it’s still worth thinking about. It will depend on what level of care I need I guess.

Tomorrow will be quiet. And Monday I head home. That will be good. I miss the furballs. I haven’t left them for any extended period in a *year* so hopefully they’re ok.


I made it to Barrie after a long train ride and another shorter train ride. This trip has been way easier with the GO train, thank god they put in the north line years ago.

This is my first time seeing more than two people at once. I felt bad travelling, but those who live alone are allowed to join a household, which I did, mine just happened to be far away from where I live. I arrived and my sister hugged me and I’m positive that is the first physical touch I have received in a year, besides my haircut, and that is very weird to think about.

I wasn’t able to make it down for Christmas due to stomach flu where I couldn’t anything down for 10 days. So the last time I saw my family was Christmas 2019. So far I am not too overwhelmed but dinner is tonight. We’ll see how I do!

The new job at OCHRO (Office of the Chief Human Resources Officer) starts April 19th and I still don’t have my Letter of Offer, which is mildly unnerving. But also, government so I shouldn’t be surprised. I haven’t started a new job in 10 years, and obviously never during a pandemic so I am nervous as hell. I have to brush up on my performance measurement soon!

J and I have been talking again. It’s been tough but I think we’re on the road to healing. Slowly. But that is still hard to talk about.

Day Four


1. I don’t know what my father thinks of me, if he ever does and if he’s even capable of doing so. It makes me sad for what could have been, though not sad for the man nor sad for myself. Sad stopped the night I was 12 and he drove (drunk) to my house with a pizza and a giant bag of popcorn for the sleep over he was convinced I was having. There was no sleepover. My family was thinking “hey free pizza”. I was up in my room crying and listening to “Wasted Time” by Skid Row. No twelve year old should relate to that song so well.

2. I want to know where my mom is. I want to know that yes, there is an afterlife. I want to know she’s there. I want, no I need, to know that she is filled with all the joy she did not get in life.

3. I wonder what my children would have been like had I made the choice to have any. Had I had the opportunity to make that choice. I have never been pregnant. I am 41. 99% didn’t want children. But I wonder not about what life would have been like – it would have been hard. But I wonder what these spirit children would have been like. Would they be little native babies? Or the pale irish in me? What would their laugh sound like? What would it feel like to hear someone call me “mom”. I want to know, but I don’t.

4. I want to know what my purpose is, so I can start pursuing it. Or maybe pursuing my purpose IS my purpose?

5. I don’t ever want to know what my mother felt at 18 the first time she had to work as a prostitute.

6. Because at 41 I understand (finally) that not everything is meant to be laid bare for your children. That you are a person, not just a mother. That she deserved to keep that part of her only for herself. I almost wish we never found out about that part of her life. Not because I am ashamed, but because it feels intrusive.’t

7. I want to know how to get back to myself, although I’m not completely sure who that ever was. I think I might just be finding out now.

8. I want to know my first girlfriend again.

9. I know I’ve let people down. I don’t want to know the details. Maybe that’s selfish. But I’m finally able to apologize with sincerity. I will not self-flagellate.

10. It took me years of therapy to get to the following point. But I want to know that I have an impact on people’s lives. I buy gifts and buy drinks and buy and buy because if I don’t, well how do I have value to anyone? I need to remember that I have impact just by existing.

Day Three

1. I want to remember my mother, her laugh, her sarcasm, her joy. And even her heartbreak.

2. I want to remember my father as the man I thought he was when I was eight. Strong. Proud. Handsome. Safe.

3. He is none of those things.

4. I want to remember my sister, the strong anishnabae woman she was. The weak anishnabae woman she was. The one who smiled when she saw me, not the one who died on her knees snorting diabetes medication.

5. I want to remember my grandmother on the days before they took her to residential school.

6. I want to remember my grandfather as he wrote he own epitaph: “They laid him to rest on a windswept hill at the glorious dawn of day, and even the whispering pines grew still as they knelt by his grave to pray.”

7. There is no windswept hill for him.

8. I want to remember my grandmother who once loved a priest and bore his child. That is some Danielle Steel shit.

9. I want to remember my grandfather crouched as a tailgunner in that lancaster, flying his 98th mission.

10. I remember them all, as they have made me.

Day Two

1. It is Election Day today and I haven’t voted yet but will do so when I get home from work. Then to brace myself for the results by stockpiling booze. And I’m only half-kidding about the booze.

2. I slept soundly last night, thanks medical marijuana.

3. It was still hard to wake up, although that was mostly psychological. Maybe one day work won’t scare me.

4. My best friend is currently touring the US and Canada with a production of We Will Rock You. She’s been on tour since mid-August and won’t be back until the end of February. And before that she was away for three months across the country doing a workshop. And I am happy for her, but my evenings and weekends get lonely.

5. But at the same time, I’m learning more and more how to keep myself busy and entertained while I’m alone, or seeing other friends. I feel a bit of a distance between us now. I hope that will go away once she is back for good.

6. My brother is coming for Christmas this year. I am excited. It’s been 2.5 years since I’ve seen him, so I’m looking forward to that.

7. Day two and I already feel like I have nothing to say. Damn writer’s block.

8. It’s probably because I’m out of practice. Until now I haven’t written anything meaningful since my mother died in 2016. I didn’t decide to stop out of grief or anything. It wasn’t even a decision. Just more of a slow petering out of any interest I once had in words.

9. I hope I can reclaim that voice. My voice.

10. For I have stories to tell.

Day One

1. I start out my day late, because I’m tired, because the dog is sleeping against the back of knees and I don’t want to disturb her. Because I intensely hate going to work.

2. The mere idea of my boss sends my body into fight, flight or freeze out of the sheer anxiety of dealing with him, and the gods know I don’t need more trouble with my body.

3. I have Cerebral Palsy. My atoms are trying their best. And as I sit here, 41 years in this body that keeps struggling, but keeps trying, I realize that as a middle-aged person with CP I am a pioneer. I am limping down that road of aging combined with disability so that those that come after me don’t have to struggle. I am building a log house of experience to shelter us all. Let it rain. I will be our roof.

4. I come from my grandmother, who was taken to residential school and stripped of all that made her anishnabae. I come from my father, who she neglected, who drank himself onto the streets and became all that Canada thinks an indigenous man can be. Absent. An addict. An abuser. An alien.

5. I come from my grandmother, the only one of nine children to not marry an Italian. Instead she married a drunken irish poet, who drank himself into pneumonia and death. He wrote his own epitaph. I never met him but I have it memorized. I come from a mother, abused and betrayed, beaten and used, but never broken. She, more than anyone, taught me how to be a warrior.

6. When she died, I did not fall apart the way I expected to. The world, in fact, kept turning. But three years later and I still carry her death with me. Thankful that I talked to her almost every day. Thankful that we always said I love you. Thankful for how much she made me laugh.

7. I feel less than without her. Like a cliché. That a part of me is gone. Missing.

8. It occurred to me the other day that I started my art practice the year after she died. And that she never knew me as an artist. Or “artist” if you will. She has never seen my paintings and never will. The fact that there is a part of me my mother will never know is something I can’t comprehend. Like humans can’t comprehend the size of the universe. Her absence is just so vast.

9. But mostly I am made up of experience, and words, and paint stained hands. I am soulmates with my dog. I am messy, and I am made up of the wounds that others have left behind. Thankfully I think scars, emotional or otherwise, are badass.

10. As 23andme says, I am “100% April”