Loss Not Yet Done

How do we grieve?

I have asked this question once before, when faced with grieving a friendship.

Grieving the living is hard, death has a finality to it, that makes the loss feel different.

How do we grieve those who are at the entrance to the bridge to Summer land? Death not yet here but looming.

How do we grieve the living, when they go on?

How do we grieve the losses in a world not yet ready to come together?

How do we grieve when it feels so lonely, by distance and by heart?

How do we grieve when it feels the losses continue to mount?

How do we grieve when nothing feels right?

How do we grieve when there is nothing left?

We grieve in the moment because sometimes that is all there is. Someday fond remembrances will come. Some day to recall the face will not sting. Some day the sound of the person’s name will not cut. Some day the good that was, will fill the hollow that was left at the end.

This will be how we grieve, howling, silent, still, shaking, until we get to the other side.

Mother’s Day

A rush of emotion today. I first became a mom almost 28 years ago-

I made one of the best and hardest decisions of my life. That child has grown to a fine man, and I am forever grateful to the Mom I chose for him, she is the template I strive to emulate.

13 years ago, the little bean in my belly was months away from being born, and today my gratitude for the beautiful soul that chose me only grows. There’s been challenges, mistakes, adventures, laughter and frustrations but all of it with love.

36 years ago, the two women who raised me, were lost to me. My Mom and my Nan went to summerland when I was 12, but I can still recall smells, touches, snippets of wisdom and silliness ( although the true sound of the voices are but phantoms). My Nan’s wisdom and curiosity reside in my heart and soul. My Mom’s love and humour I imagine are woven into my life’s armour.

There have been women in my life who have mothered me gently, who have mothered me firmly and offered their wisdom, guidance and love. I hold much gratitude for all of them.

Today is a mix of joy and grief. The intensity of love. ❤️

“But what is grief if not love persevering?” – Vision

We are born of love. Love is our Mother – Rumi

The Faithful Witch, or why I don’t need to ‘find God’

Sitting in the soft glow of the Christmas lights on the Tree and those shining from my Altar. Drinking coffee and contemplating faith.

I document some of my mental and physical health struggles. I have a biting sarcastic sense of humour ( carved well from surviving trauma). I am an empath through and through. I am curious. I am kind. I have a temper. I take things personally that I probably shouldn’t. I believe in helping because it’s the right thing to do. I believe the body is only the house of who we are, I do not believe in judging on gender, race, orientation or colour. I have a strong sense of spirituality and faith. I am Pagan.

Working with chronic illness I encourage my clients to include a faith based practice. I tell them, that these practices and communities are so important to healing. It is another pillar needed for survival. I never tell them what it should look like. I tell them it should be what speaks to them, what elevates them to their higher good, where they find comfort and connection.

Do I think it solves everything? No. Do I believe that alone will heal? No. Do I believe it takes struggle away? No.

Being Pagan, for me, means I am not beholden to one God. I do not bow to my Deity, I do not hand over my ills, nor do I blame or credit them with everything that happens in my life. I believe we are all interconnected. We are the stuff made of stars, we are nature. I believe this interconnection ( magic) binds us to be responsible in our actions and their effects on the world around us. I believe that science and magic work hand in hand. I believe there are things unseen and unknown. I believe my ancestors hold wisdom that can guide me if I listen.

Do I believe this makes me better than you if our Gods do not share the same name? No. I believe all roads eventually lead back to the same and you put the face on it you are most comfortable with.

I do find offence if you’re God demands that you make others conform to your understanding. I am offended if your God leads you to believe you are morally superior because of what you believe. I am offended if your God punishes people for perceived ‘sins’ or character flaws.

I am not offended if you hold me in your prayers, if it is to protect and share love, for that I am deeply moved and honoured.

I am offended if you are praying for my redemption because I’m not like you.

I am offended if you are judging me on my writing, humour or very human flaws and struggles, because you believe these things mean I have yet to find god….. I am offended if your belief makes you think it is ok to tell me that this is what I need.

My faith has so far seen me through some very dark moments. My faith has helped me have compassion and purpose. My faith keeps me curious and in wonder. I have found Myself with in it.

As we move through this season, be joyful, be kind and be open. There are many of us celebrating many things, there are many of us struggling with many things, but I think we can all agree that we should celebrate together, work together and create something better than what we have. Together.

❤️🔮

Can’t I just enjoy the moment?

I have been working on details for my daughter’s upcoming birthday.

She’s asked for something small, simple. In part because of Covid, in part because she’s 12, in junior high and her tastes have changed.

And this morning the trigger pulled so quick it was like a starters pistol. The take down by a wall of emotion was swift. These are some of the last of my critical markers to pass.

42, the age my Mother was when she died, I cleared that hurdle.

Grade 6, for my kid- which strangely reflected mine for loss.

I left school months before it ended ( my Mother was ill and we were waiting for her passing.) I never went back to finish. I spent a lonely summer with my dog before grade 7.

In turn Lily was forced from her life ( as were all) by a virus, her grade 6 experience cut short, her summer had very little friend contact and she spent it with her dog.

While my own 12th marked a hard end to my childhood, I see for Lily ( and blessedly so) her own childhood is softly receding.

But this morning I’m overwhelmed by emotion.

A mix of grieving for myself, and the young girl who really needed her Mom.

Excitement that I’m here to share this with Lily, and share her future.

A somewhat irrational fear that it’s a tease and I won’t be here much past this for her. Disappointment at the altered landscape she has to experience. Frustration that both myself and my kid never got ‘normal’ at this age. ( what does that mean really?!)

Fear that I know even less of what to do parenting wise than I did before.

I think my monsters and I have been wrestling with this in the background for a while. Hidden by the immediacy of other battles.

I’m not sure what to do with this.

I’m blessed, I know. It’s irrational I know, ( welcome to the tasty cocktail of mental illness, trauma and life stress ). But it is, for the moment my reality.

I now have a moment before she gets up to start her day, to pack it all away, for now. To get back to helping her with the little details of her birthday, let her excitement be infectious, her smile warm the chill of my fears.

She really is an amazing young lady, and I’m so lucky to be her mom. ❤️

My Daughter

So bittersweet, the moment was.
You called for me.
That sweet face, my little baby girl peering out at me with glistening eyes. Mama, I need you.

Earlier, your eyes glinted with exasperation when I offered to help you with your hair. You’re old enough, you don’t need me. You can do it all yourself.

A while later, you caught my eye, I saw your face. You mouthed the words, to come with you. So vulnerable you looked.
I hold your cherished face in my hands. Wiped your shocked and surprised tears. Reassuring tones from my heart to yours. Yes, my sweet, a little piece of childhood is done, but it will be ok.

I feel the little piece of ice pierce my heart.
My baby, my baby. My heart.
Now before me, no longer the child playing with dolls.
But the beginnings of a young lady. We can not go back from here.

You still reach for me. My baby. You are crossing a threshold, we acknowledge together. You squeeze my hand. And thank me, for helping you feel safe, loved and supported. I am grateful that this is how you feel entering this transitional moment. That this is the space we have created together.
I wanted to cry, to lament, please bring back my baby, what if there were things I did not teach, what if I missed important things. How is it over so quick?! How can I guide her when I’m not ready?!

Yet….. My heart swells with pride, this sweet, funny, talented, kind, young lady was growing into her promise as a human. Gracefully, inquisitively, loved.

But my babe you will always be, in the eyes of the woman you will become.

How do I love thee?

What is Love? As a noun- (1)profoundly tender, passionate affection for someone. (2) A feeling of warm, deep affection, personal attachment, parent, child or friend (3) sexual passion (4) A term of endearment or affection

It is a powerful word, yet too often thrown away on the wrong things. Do you really love the sweater that you saw in the shop window? Thrown in with a few ‘air kisses’ love ya!!! Easy to overuse and dismiss. But when you really say it and mean it, who is it for? Why?How does it make you feel when it is said to you?

The first love I really remember experiencing was that for my Mom and my Nanna. How do I know this is my first recognized love? By the utter hole it left when they both died. I could not breathe, I deflated, I lost a beat or two of my own heart. Family love, the first ties that bind.

My first romantic love came when I was young, all of 14. This was big, tingly and overwhelming. We often tell our children that their first relationship is not ‘real’ love. But in looking back, I have a very different opinion. Is it the way I experience love with my husband? No, not exactly but in some ways it is. With both, the pulse quickens, there is an excitement (that would be the addition of sexual desire), a comfort and shelter that I feel. I think that romantic love is a fluctuating balance of sexual desire and deep, profound, tender, passion and affection. The difference between that first love and the love I have now, is it’s ability to weather storms, to ride out the fluctuations that come with how life rolls. I believe this comes with maturity to know that the feelings of sexual desire will fluctuate, and that should not be used as the only measure of romantic love. It is in the ability to have one another’s back, to forgive and at times hold accountable, it is the coffee ready first thing, and the encouragement to do and be better. I am blessed to have an incredible love, it has been strong, deep, and one we have maintained through storms and calm seas. It is one that I am home in, but still get all butterflies on date night. For that I am very lucky.

I knew pure love the moment I looked at my son, and later on, my daughter. It is like a blinding white light. The depth is overwhelming, The hold it has is soul deep. This happens periodically even to this day, my son is grown and my daughter is 10. There will be just a moment I take to observe, they won’t really be doing anything special, eating dinner, laughing over a joke or telling a story about their day, and the tremor of this love bursts it’s pure white light out, it’s blinding flash gone in a second, but it is always there under the surface.

Love of the friendship kind. This one is tricky. It is easier to express to some more than others. Each one has a depth and meaning all it’s own. I truly love the people of my inner circle. My best friend of 3/4 of my life is someone I love deeply. We have been through so much, fought hard, but when the chips are down, I know she will have my back, as I would hers. She is the keeper of the record of my growth as a human. She is the best and worst judge of me. She is a part of me. There are others in my inner circle, my tribe of women who are funny, inspiring, human, messy, bright, and ferocious. I love them so very much. I am moved by what they accomplish. I am moved by the ways in which they support each other and the ways they support me. Though the women far out number the men in my inner circle, those who are there, are there for very good reason. And yes, I have a warm attachment love for them as well. They are smart, they are strong, willing, kind, humour filled people, that represent such wonderful examples of husbands, brothers, fathers, friends, They inspire and teach me from a perspective that is largely unknown to me.

I have loved pets, to this day, I get teary over each one lost to the rainbow bridge. They each have a space in my heart for the connection we still share. There are two that stand out for the depth of love and loyalty they gave me, and the depth of love and loyalty I needed to give. My dog Princess, she saw me through one of the worst periods of my young life. My familiar, my black prince of a cat Lestat. He found his way to me, when I needed unconditional love the most. For 18 years that sassy cat appointed himself my guardian, as he did with my daughter until she was 2. I mourn him everyday.

To be on the receiving end of any of the loves, having been someones child, I know that soul pull now from both ends. My mothers love was warm, light, and for a time very safe. My Nanna’s love was the same in it’s brightness and warmth. When my children hug me, or tell the way I have moved or inspired them, well, there are no words to describe that pure moment of receiving your child’s connected love. To give love romantically, with abandon, is joy, but to receive. It can be so enveloping, safe. Add to that the spark and passion of ongoing sexual desire and chemistry and it is no wonder the butterflies still go crazy. The bonded love of a pet, there is no other, even when they sleep on your face, eat your sandwich or throw up on the carpet. The nuzzle, lick and perfectly timed snuggle is worth it every time.

But there is one love I have not touched. It is the love of self. This I believe is the hardest to achieve with out condition. This is one my anxiety has diminished in me, at times, taken it away. It is an easy one to preach, but a truly hard one to live. Large ego and narcissistic behaviour often gets referred to as ‘really loving ones self’. I disagree, I think large ego and narcissistic behaviour mask self loathing. True love of one’s self also includes acknowledging accountability, being willing to learn, playing the strengths while working with the weaknesses. Celebrating one’s victories and success, but not at the cost of another. This, well, this is where the love work really lies.

It is my practice to tell people how they affect me. When I love, adore, appreciate, am inspired by, or feel gratitude toward someone, well, I let them know. Sometimes it comes across like an unintentional freight train and it freaks some people out. That’s a thing for me to work on, but honestly, I react, describe things how I feel in that moment. And in that moment it probably is big. I will let them know why. I think this is important. Interestingly enough this generally only applies to good stuff. When it is not so good, it takes me a long, long time. This has some good benefits, and some serious drawbacks. Again, an ongoing case by case lesson. I like to know how I have affected someone. It helps me to learn, learn what I am good at, learn what I need to work on. And it really is a good building block for working on the self love area.

What is love?