making vows

This is from August, but as I am about to embark on this journey with fertility drugs, I feel like it is appropriate for me to revisit the vows I made to my body a while back...

there is a painting

This isn’t an elegant lyric or poem
You will find no rhyme or iambic pentameter
This is only my attempt to forge a connection
With the world around me, with myself.

Somewhere inside me, there is a painting
A picture screaming to get out
A fumbling journey of self-discovery
An attempt to love where I am in this moment.

I am capable of creating great beauty
Adept at fashioning an elaborate series of masks
I am able to hide the scars on my heart
With feigned confidence and pride.

Stumbling my way through, making it up as I go,
And doing it with style.

I am an artist, I create things
But I am also apt to tear them down
Skilled in the art of self-destruction
Invalidation as self-defence.

Somewhere inside me, there is a painting
A picture that I must get out
A piece of me that I thrust out into world
My so-called soul, laid bare for your awaited scorn.

Welcome to my neurosis
I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.

Like, 23 years old, meeting my 20 year old sister for the first time.
Seeing my father’s smile in her cheeks
Seeing the same missing something behind her eyes
Wanting her burden to now be mine.

Somewhere inside me, there is a shy little girl
Who looks at her past through bitter eyes
But she’s getting better at the here and now
And keeps me grounded through this resplendent chaos.

Somewhere inside me, there is a painting
On the outside, my defiant art.

I hurt myself because it’s against the rules
The exquisite pain of the tattoo gun
The needle tears into my flesh
The mark it leaves, my proclamation to the world.

Having guts does not equal being fearless
Just as shared blood does not equal instant love
But I’m working at forging a brave new me
One picture, one brush stroke at a time.

Dreamscapes & Hesitations

whoa

Apparently, sometimes when you confront a troll, it works!

truth.

"If we don't get lost, we'll never find a new route"
(Joan Littlewood)

in which I talk about happiness

making lists

Endless to-do lists are pouring out of me. I can't sleep. One leg hangs off the bed, bobbing and swaying... the motion comforts me, like a rocking chair and a mother's chest to a fussy infant. This analogy comforts me.

I try to focus on the motion. Focus on my breathing. Clear blue skies. A calm ocean. Anything to stop my racing mind. Can't avoid it any longer. I get up to pee, and instead of heading back to bed I walk down the hallway to my office. And so here I sit, scribbling lists.

I think that if I get it all out... get it all down on paper, then it will leave my mind. If I can actually see the tasks and reminders laid out in an orderly manner that I will be able to stop worrying about all of the to-dos and haven't-dones. I wish this were true.

I want it to stop. I do my best to think rationally and calmly but I can't stop it. It's coming no matter how many calm blue seas I imagine, or what number of breathes I count. The more I push it away, the more rational I attempt to be, the quicker my heart beats.

The panic. My heartbeat is erratic, isn't it? Did it just skip a beat? I'm breathing too fast! I must breathe more slowly. SLOWER! I'm not getting enough air. I have to breathe slower. SLOWER. Deeper. Please! Why won't my lungs cooperate? I'm going to hyperventilate if I keep this up. Why can't I stop? There it is again! My heart! Did it skip a beat, or was that one beat extra? What IS that flutter? Just breathe. Just. Breathe.

Oh god, this is going to kill me one of these days.

my baby sister got married!

We spent the week at her house getting all the details in order, and making sure that all the preparations were properly made. There were many lists, and plenty of frantic phone calls... a few last-minute decisions and changes were needed. Then, Friday morning, I helped get her into her gown, and joked about needing more leverage to get her tied in...


There was a snafu with her planned transportation, so I had to make some quick arrangements with a very helpful, very nice hotel manager in order to get her to the ceremony on time...


She was nervous, afraid of being the centre of attention, so I made jokes, and did my best to keep her tears at bay. Then it was time! Matty looked like such a big boy, proudly walking his momma down the aisle...


It rained through the entire (outdoor) ceremony, but no one complained. They both cried as they read their vows, and a violinist played beautiful music while they made it all official...

They were soaking wet, so happy...


Everyone complied with my silly requests, braving more of the rain so I could get the shots I wanted...


My sister made everyone do the newly learned "shopping cart" with her...


And after all the speeches, the eating and the dancing was done, the boy and I went back to our hotel room and talked about how happy they looked, and how thankful I am that my baby sister has someone like Jon taking care of her now.


<3

my beautiful boy

time-lapsed video of "just breathe"

just breathe

regret

Sometimes I wish there was a gaping void where my conscience lives.

I'll call you when I land.

nobody's mother.

Sunday was Mother's Day.

My father-in-law called from the other side of the world to wish me a happy mother's day. The boy reminded him that I am not a mother, and he replied that I was a mother to our cats and the dog, so "that's something..."

I know he was trying to be sweet, and had nothing but the best of intentions, but it added a piercing blow to my already aching heart.

Whenever people ask me if I have kids I feel my stomach sink a little, and a twinge of grief creeps into my heart. "Oh, your time will come!" they always assure me. Or they casually assume that we can easily adopt, if we wanted to, and I don't care to explain the costs and lengthy processes to them.

We spent the day at my sister-in-law's home with the boy's family. My mother-in-law was there, as well as my sister-in-law's mother-in-law (I know, that's a lot of "in-laws" in one sentence, and reads pretty awkwardly, forgive me!). I love spending time with his family, and playing with our niece and nephew is one of my very favourite things... but all of the mothering, the fussing over mushy cards, the hugs and kisses and celebration of the wonderful relationship that is mother-to-child, left me feeling like I'd been kicked in the gut.

Of course I would never do anything to take away from their day. I enjoy the time I get to spend with the kids, and have some fun conversations with the adults. We share a meal, laugh together, and I manage to maintain a genuine-looking smile when I'm asked, again, when we plan to start our family.

"Soon, we hope!" I answer as sweetly as possible.

It is difficult to fail gracefully. I would like to say that I have become immune to the pain of watching everyone around me having children with ease, but I haven't. I feel like an outsider.

I feel this horrible longing to have what they have, and I feel awful because of my jealousy. I am conflicted and confused. I am so happy for them at the same time that I want to scream out that I DO NOT want to hear about it ANYMORE!!!

I feel selfish and ashamed. I know that I am not alone in this, nor am I the only woman struggling with fertility and procreation... but sometimes it feels that way.

I am nobody's mother. I am incomplete.

Nadia

no secrets here.

Now if only I could take my own advice...

roles-shmols.

I was upstairs on my mac, working, when The Boy, downstairs watching Y&R, starts laughing suddenly...

Me: "What's so funny?"

The Boy: "Haha ' The role of Heather Stevens will now be played by -' Imagine if you missed that? You'd be like, wtf? Who's this?"

Me: "Is she hot at least?"

The Boy: "Who?"

Me: "The new chick, is she hot at least?"

The Boy: "I guess, a little bit."

Happy Earth Day!

In honour of earth day today I spent the day working on my yard and getting things ready for this year's veggie garden.

Okay, full disclosure time... I was planning on doing it anyway, it was just convenient that yesterday was earth day! ;)

I really do try my best to be conscious of what impact I have on the environment, though there is so much more I could be doing, many of the "big" things, like having a hybrid or electric car, for example, are simply out of reach for me, due to the financial cost involved. However, there are many "little" things that I do to be as earth-friendly as I can, within my current means... here is a list:

1. Every light bulb in my house is an energy-efficient compact fluorescent
   
2. We use a programmable thermostat to maintain a temperature between 20 to 22°C, depending on the season and time of day, and often don't use the furnace or central air at all in the spring and fall
   
3. I keep a small veggie garden as well as an herb garden... you just can't beat home-grown tomatoes, beans, peppers, carrots, etc... so much yumminess!
   
4. Planting bee-attracting wild flowers in my yard
   
5. Composting yard clippings and garden trimmings
6. I do not use pesticides or artificial fertilizers on my lawn or garden. I get down on my hands and knees and yank out anything I don't want in there
   
7. We bring our own reusable cloth grocery bags for shopping
   
8. We like to seek out locally grown foods, and try to buy produce from within Ontario when possible (full disclosure - I can't live without things like coffee & chocolate, so I would never be able to make it on a true local or macrobiotic diet)
9. I really enjoy patronizing farmer’s markets
10. We use non-toxic cleaning supplies, or simple "home solutions" like vinegar, or baking soda. This includes laundry detergent & dish soap that is phosphate and nitrate free
11. We do not buy bottled water, and have instead invested in a reverse-osmosis filtration system for our kitchen sink that supplies us with our drinking water
12. Bringing our own water with us in reusable bottles/containers
13. All of our laundry is washed in cold water
    
14. We try to purchase products that use as little packaging as possible, or are made using post-consumer products
15. We buy recycled toilet paper
    
16. Our city has a fantastic waste-management program that requires all waste be sorted into three specific categories for separate processing... this allows us to ensure that we are recycling all paper, plastic, glass, and aluminum products. All compostable/biodegradable materials are sent to a different facility for use in biomass energy production. This ensures that very limited amounts of garbage end up in landfill.
    
17. Both my husband and I work from home (I own a small home-based business, and he telecommutes), so our car is not used very often
    

I think that's about it... of course there is so much more that we can do, but at least it's a good start, right? Many small measures add up to a nicer big picture!

Happy Earth Day! :)

Bad Company.

I got this on my Formspring today:

Since I have neglected you - my dear blog - for a long while now, I thought I would share my answer here, since my response felt like something I would share here anyway...

Alright... Here's a random memory:

When I was nine years old, my Mom, little brother, sister, and I went to live with my mom's friend Mandy and her family for a while.

That summer the whole lot of us went to visit people who I think were Mandy's relatives. They lived in this really cool old house that had "secret" passageways between some of the rooms, including upstairs bedrooms and the attic. Creaky wooden doors in the backs of closets led to hidden, narrow hallways behind the walls. The house had a humid, sticky feeling to it, and for some reason I remember there being lots and lots house plants around.

It was made clear that we were to stay out of the way. While the adults sat in the backyard in a circle of lawn chairs, shooting the breeze, drinking, and whatever else, all of us kids crept around upstairs, pretending we were spies on an adventure.

I remember crawling up to this window that was open just a few inches, overlooking the backyard. It was one of those old wood-framed windows, with years of white paint caked over the hardware, weighing it down. There was a can (or maybe it was a jar?) propping it open, and all I could hear was "Feel like makin' love" by Bad Company blasting out of a stereo somewhere downstairs and into the yard. The smell of weed being smoked wafted in the window, accompanied by the heavy ozone smell that summer air takes on just before a thunderstorm.

I remember looking at my mother, her head thrown back, laughing... smoke from her cigarette curling around face. She looked so happy in that instance. I remember wishing I could keep her that way... wishing I scoop her up, and put in my pocket, or hide her away in one of the secret passageways of that house. I remember feeling so sad, because I knew that I couldn't, and even at nine years old I was aware that time marches on and changes everything, no matter how much you wish it wouldn't...

I heard that song today on the radio, and I thought of my mom. In my mind it's been forever linked to her and that summer.

Venus - a watercolour nude

This artwork was done with Pentel watercolour paints and acid free, permanent, pigmented ink on 140 lb cold press watercolour paper. The paper size is 9x12".

On thinking for yourself

Today I am cranky. I'm really trying not to be, but I hear myself being short with people, and feel as though I can't help it.

I was talking with my father on the phone earlier, and it has really soured my mood.

I know my dad means well when he starts trying to tell me about the virtues of some bastardized interpretation of a bible verse, and how we really should take the lord's advice on a particular topic, and I can barely contain the bubbling frustration in me that wants to point out to him that he should probably read the entire book for himself before he starts spouting off about how great and true it is.

He knows I'm not a fan of religion, but it seems as if he thinks it's some sort of a phase that I will grow out of, and it frustrates me.

It is so hard for me to feel the way I do when I have spent much of my life admiring my dad for his intelligence and strength. I don't want my father to feel like I'm talking down to him, but some of the things he says really set me off. How can a man with so much wisdom not see the hypocrisy in some of the things that he says? How can he start quoting scripture as if he is speaking in truisms, when he's never actually read The Bible himself, only had it read to him bits and pieces at a time, followed by some perverse interpretation and prophesying from some middle-aged, over-privileged white dude telling him how to analyze and apply the information.

I just want to yell at him to THINK FOR HIMSELF!!! for once, and really listen to what he is saying. Really analyze where that information is coming from, when it is coming from, and really question how much sense it makes. Really!

He likes to say he's a Christian, and how good and noble that is, how wonderful a guide for living he has, and he easily ignores any criticism of his supposed religion. My father hasn't even stepped foot in a church, save for the occasional wedding or funeral, in at least two decades. I've never witnessed him reading any literature on the subject, or having any conversations with any clergy or other religious scholars. He has this tiny little bit of information, and he clings to it and quotes it as if it were the absolute and complete truth, and it is driving me just a little bit mad.

Though I disagree with religion in an utterly complete way, I can at least understand the extremely pious individuals who had studied "the word" intensely and have found themselves to be passionate about the subject. I can respect a religious scholar or a learned clergyman who is able to debate on the subject, and defend their viewpoint, as much as I disagree with them. But when someone has very little knowledge of the subject about which they are arguing, they immediately lose any credibility, and this is what frustrates me when it comes up in conversation with my father.

He will mention something to me about a certain bible passage, and how it is words to live by, and sometimes I cannot help myself... I will point out to him that lovely as that verse may be, it is mere pages away from this other verse talking about stoning someone to death for gathering wood on the sabbath. I will ask him how he can pick and choose which verses he believes and lives by, and which ones he disregards. I will ask him how he can call his god a loving one, when his god would wipe out an entire city for daring to not acknowledge him in the way that he would like. I will ask him how he can believe that this book is one of love and goodness when it is filled with so much hate and violence, and I am so irritated when he easily brushes these questions aside... dismisses them as not being the important parts... being the wrong part of the book.

Apparently the new testament is the right testament... the old one, the original one, the one which provides a foundation for the other, is all irrelevant in the face of the new testament. Apparently, upon sending Jesus to earth, God got to take a mulligan on the entire old testament.

Some days it is so hard for me to continue talking to my father about anything else when I am so sad for him that he truly believes the things that he is saying. I have such a hard time taking anything else he says seriously, and this makes me so angry with myself.

I love my father. I love him so much, and I aspire to be as kind and strong, and gentle as he is. I hope to be half as wonderful a parent as he was to me when I was a small girl. Nearly every happy moment I have from my childhood involves him somehow... his strong hands pushing me on a swing, or lifting me from a pool... the way he turned scrambled eggs with cheese into the exciting and enticing "Eggs Surprise" that I would beg him to cook for me when I would see him during our scheduled weekend visitation. My father was a strong beacon of light and strength for me during some pretty dark years growing up, and I don't ever want to lose that.

But more and more often I am finding myself losing my patience when speaking with him, because he keeps peppering our conversations with religion and I cannot stand it. My father is one of the people I cherish most, and I feel myself losing respect for him. It makes me feel sick and depressed. I want to be a good daughter. The problem is that my dad taught me to stand up for myself and what I beleive in (or what I don't, in this case I suppose). My dad taught me that my intelligence was my greatest asset, and that I should be strong and assertive, as well as kind and compassionate.

How can I be a good daughter, be kind to my father, and also be myself and stand up for what I know is right?

I made a video!