I am woman, hear me....

 It's International Women's day. This day means many things to many people. It's also a day I have internally, and sometimes externally, struggled with for many years. When I finally came to terms with the difference between equality, equity, and privilege, the day made more sense to me.

Equality is giving everyone the same thing; equity is giving everyone what they need to succeed. Equality works though, when everyone has the same starting place and needs the same things to be successful. And in dominant cultures, equality based approaches to fairness may work when there aren’t a large degree of inequities impeding success. This is why equity based approaches—where systemic and cultural differences are included in resolutions—seem unfair to dominant cultural members who rely on universal rules, meritocracy, and one-size-fits-all approaches in addressing problems. It’s also why the concept of privilege strikes many as unacceptable and an assault on their hard work and values.

For the most part, in my Caucasian, western upbringing, I was afforded the same opportunities and/or privileges as my male counterparts so the equity and privilege part were covered. I've also always made sure I've been seen as their equal, however, the equality is something I'm still made to question, and prove, over and over.

You see, as a woman in a man's world, we are forced, yes forced, to demonstrate we belong there, more so than even the most incapable and inept man. I've been "fortunate" as the workplace is the only place I've ever felt the need to do this. Imagine feeling this way, and having to prove yourself, from the moment you're born. Being scorned, disrespected, beaten, penalized, and even murdered because you were born with a vagina. THIS RIGHT HERE is why I choose to recognise International Women's Day....not because I'm a man-hating feminazi but because I truly believe in the meaning of, and understand the words equity, equality, and privilege on a worldwide scale.

To all the women in my life... I love you, I respect you, and I see you. We may not share the same struggles but we know what it's like to struggle.

#internationalwomensday

One Year....

 When I was seven years old my parents dropped a bomb on me that absolutely shook my world....they were getting a divorce. I remember feeling like my life would never be normal again, like the ground beneath me was crumbling, but most of all....grief. When you're seven your universe is pretty limited: parents, friends, pets, and maybe some extended family. I was very fortunate to have a large extended family, a beautiful home, a huge protective dog, and two parents that made the effort to be home for dinner at night. With four simple words, all of that disappeared, and in the years to follow, I had a new home, more family, different pets, and new dinner traditions. 

One year ago, February 25, 2022, my world shook again with three not so simple words..."Your dad died". Depending on your source, there are five, seven, or twelve stages of grief. I went through all of them in a matter of minutes. The last time I cried like that and went through those grief stages, I was seven....I was losing my dad all over again but this time it was permanent. I didn't know what to do, who to call, and mostly...how to feel. There was the obvious sadness but the most real emotions were shock and denial. I immediately dropped to my knees, balled my hands into fists, and pounded on my thighs while screaming the word "NO" over and over. Once I composed myself, I got into my car, and I drove home. I don't remember driving and I definitely remember nothing that followed...until the next day when I proceeded to get stupidly drunk with some friends. I don't even know if I told anyone what happened. I totally, and completely, detached from reality and everyone that I cared about. 

Over the past year I've tried to reconcile the loss of my father into my life and move toward healing. It's been, without a doubt, one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I've moved through all of the grief stages several times over and just when I start to feel acceptance, a big old brick hits me square between the eyes. Today is one of those bricks....headache, puffy eyes, and the complete inability to turn my mouth upward. My chest is heavy and my brain is foggy. Grief is a righteous cunt that needs to fuck off, but like most righteous cunts, it keeps hanging on. 

I miss my dad so much it hurts my heart to hear his name or see his picture. Those stupid Facebook memories are a total mind fuck....his comments, likes, etc..show up without warning and never cease to destroy me for a few minutes, hours, or even days. Nothing could have prepared me for this loss and I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. I'd give anything to hear his voice again, or see him smile, or have him hug me. I'm waiting for the ever-present pain of grief to give rise to a renewed sense of meaning and purpose. I know these feelings of grief will never completely disappear; they will soften and become less frequent. New hope will emerge as I become able to make commitments to the future while recognising that my dad will NEVER be forgotten and knowing that my life can and will move forward. They say knowing is half the battle...the other half of the battle is time. Everything in time....

I Took a Break....

.....from social media giants Facebook and Instagram. A one month hiatus if you will. I needed the break from the constant din and clamour of businesses, friends, family, and acquaintances. My brain needed to focus on what was important and my emotions needed space to exist independent of others. 

Social media can be a great tool for keeping up with people's lives, promoting one's self, crowd sourcing, event planning, selling shit, and maybe even dating. What it's not great for, but really good at, is emotional abuse. We can look at this a few different ways.... 

• the constant need to keep up with the Jones'
• forcing emotions on others
• passive aggressive post-it notes
• shaming and belittling people
• abating the importance of something to another person
• negative attention getting behaviour
• .....and on and on and on

I can honestly say I've engaged in most, if not all, of these behaviours. I'll even go so far as to say that anyone reading this has done the same. There's no such thing as innocence on social media. Every word you write, every picture you post, is intentional. Most times, the reaction you elicit, positive or negative, is intentional as well. You know, and we know, exactly what you're doing. Whether it's that post about how depressed you are, or the one where you use "to all the people/to the person" or some iteration of that, people know what's going on. Sure, you'll get the desired response for a day or two, but what you're really doing is alienating people and draining them of emotional energy. THIS, this is the type of stuff I was escaping from. 

Facebook IS NOT YOUR PERSONAL THERAPIST. Rarely will you find a person that's actually qualified to deal with your anxiety, depression, PTSD, past and present trauma, co-dependency issues, and to a lesser extent, your loneliness, to name a few. Please, please, please can we stop with the emotional vampirism? Please. Nobody likes a Colin. 

I am not averse or indifferent to the feelings and emotions of others. In fact, I encourage friends and family to confide in me, and they do. What I don't appreciate is the unsolicited dump of bullshit into my lap at every turn. "But S, you do it too!" Of course I do, however, I tend to pepper my bullshit with humour and well-placed adjectives. That being said, I'm not perfect but I'm perfectly self-aware and have a keen ability to "read the room". 

I took a moment to regroup, get my head together, focus on myself and the people that are truly important to me. Did I miss it? Not really. Did anyone notice? A few. Do I fucking care? Nope. The only thing I missed was the knowledge of upcoming events, one event in particular, Dark Side of the Moon Burlesque. When I found about it, after the fact, I was somewhat devastated. It prompted me to reconsider my aversion to social media and possibly reactivate my accounts. 

So here I lie, er, am.... Emotionally broken, physically so-so, and mentally firing on all cylinders. I've made some very positive changes over the past month or so, and will continue on my path to I have absolutely no idea... 

It's been a while.....

 ....and boy have my views changed over the past few years. See? A person can grow and change and still be a decent person with solid ethics and morals. I won't delete anything or even apologise for past musings and opinions but anyone that knows me knows I'm constantly evolving into the best version of myself. 

Well fuck.... Four years and a pandemic later, here we are, divided as ever. The world is burning, literally and figuratively, and the human race is still squabbling amongst themselves. Well done humans, well done. Nothing.Has.Fucking.Changed.... 

Racism? Check!

Women's lack of reproductive rights? Check!

Illicit drug overdoses? Check!

Lack of affordable housing? Check!

Food insecurity? Check!

Corrupt politicians? Check!

Gender inequality? Check!

Climate change? Check!

Biodiversity loss? Check!

And on and on and on it goes.....

Why are we so shitty? When did we become so shitty? Why do we refuse to fix our shittiness? What is it going to take to get through to our shitty brains? Are we just going to wait for everything to burn and then the survivors start over? Cool. If that's the case, I'll happily light the match and hope they, and the following generations, do it better than we did. 

I do have hope for the future....just not any future I'm alive for. We've created a powder keg and it's only a matter of time and circumstance before it blows up and takes all of us with it. Unless, UNLESS, we start right fucking now. We have a few years left, I believe, to make it right. To stop the petty fighting, the greed, the selfishness....and right our many years of wrongs. The only question I have is..... Are we willing?

Life is hard...

....sometimes.

I've just entered my forties. Yes, you read that right, FORTIES. You can say it, I don't look a day over twenty-four, right? RIGHT?!? Just kidding, my face is definitely older than it was sixteen years ago and my mind has got to be about sixty. My heart, on the other hand, feels like I'm still a teenager....ripped apart at the smallest sign of conflict or a harsh word. Some days I can actually watch as my emotional walls crumble around me. I curl up into a small ball on the floor and wait for the moments to pass like a small child in a cupboard hiding from an abusive babysitter.

The only way I can sum up my life is to say it's a clusterfuck of madness. A teenager, a toddler, two dogs, full time job, and household matriarch combined with anxiety, depression, and other health concerns makes crazy town soup. Mmmmm....soup. This year seems to be determined to break me completely though. Multiple friends have passed away, the world is a fucking disaster in so many ways, my kids are both at that willfully insolent stage in life, the start of perimenopause, and, of course, the things best left unsaid. I do have a great support system in place: friends, parents, spouse, but when they don't live inside my head, it's difficult for them to understand.

Living inside my head... I wouldn't wish that upon anybody. I imagine it as string and monsters in various shades of red forming multiple roundabouts and trying to navigate them. On a side note, if any of my painter friends could paint this image for me, I'd really appreciate it. Sometimes a ray of sunshine will appear in the form of a giant, fluffy doggo painted yellow to chase the monsters away but for the most part it's just a flurry of crimson insanity. I often tell people I don't wear red because I have red hair but in actual fact, red scares the fuck out of me...except at Christmas.

I definitely have outlets to soothe my cluttered mind...live music, writing, alcohol, walking with my dogs, beating my children (please don't tell anybody), and exercise when I can drag my sorry ass off the couch. I also take a sweet medicinal cocktail every day and talk to a counselor. She's trying to convince me that beating my kids is not good therapy but I don't believe her. I know what works. For those of you that just took a deep breath, shook your head, and picked up your phone to call the ministry of broken children, calm your tits, I don't actually beat my kids. I'm pretty sure the teenager could take me down and then the toddler would sit on my head and bounce until that red, stringy, monster-like mess came out of my ears. I guess I've taught them well...

So what's the point of these disgracefully written paragraphs you ask? Life sucks sometimes. That's all, it just bloody sucks. It makes me feel better to poison the minds of my readers with grossly exaggerated images of soup and the colour red and to let you know that you're not alone in this shit-stew of a universe. It's hard when you're the one that has to be strong for everybody else and your muscles start to fatigue. It's difficult when others look to you for guidance and/or answers and your brain doesn't work enough to form a coherent sentence of support. It's scary when you know your true self is in there somewhere but is lost in a maze of fuckery and distorted realities. My only advice, and advice I should learn to follow, is to look for the light wherever you can find it, no matter how minuscule or insignificant, and follow it until the world brightens up around you....it can't stay dark forever.

Doggies...

When my Sophie died a few weeks ago, a little part of my heart died with her. She was my tissue when I cried, my partner when I danced, and my most trusted confidante. She loved our family like any dog would: unconditionally and selflessly. She was beautiful to look at and people often stopped me in the street to tell me as much. Kids loved her and her patience with them was infinite, in fact, she was friends with almost every child in our neighbourhood. Sophie was also a big goof...so very clumsy due to her missing eye and completely oblivious to the fact that she was 100lbs of solid dog. She would crash into things, skid around on the hardwood floors, and knock people over. Despite the destruction she often left in her wake, you couldn't help but forgive her immediately.

The day we had to euthanise her was one of the worst days of my existence; coming home to a dogless house was unbearable. It was the little things...sweeping the floor after a meal because she wasn't there to help, climbing into bed without having to roll her over (not an easy task), and not having a smiling, wagging doggie to greet me when I came home from a shitty day at work. Even the cat missed her. I was barely functioning...eating, sleeping, and basic communication just became difficult. Friends were calling and messaging and I just couldn't bring myself to answer. The only thing that seemed to bring any solace to my troubled heart was the idea that one day, in the near future, we would have another doggie in our home to love.

I started to search....

I started with the usual places... SPCA, LAPS, and other local shelters. We prefer bigger doggies but a lot of local shelters won't even consider your home unless there is a large fenced yard. I was forced to expand my search and discovered Rescue Paws Canada. I scoured their Facebook page and my eyes and heart fell on Sam. Sam was being kept on a coconut farm in a small town in Thailand, tied up twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week to a post. He was skinny, dehydrated, and in terrible form. His rescuers had to pay the farmer for his freedom. I immediately sent off an email enquiring about him and quickly received a response telling me that he was available for adoption. I was also told he was part of a bonded pair and was asked if we were in the market for two doggies; his girlfriend, Coconut, was also looking for a home. Coconut was living on the side of the road, with her puppies, in the "care" of the same farmer as Sam, on the brink of death when the rescuers found her. It is believed that Sam may be the father of her pups, most of whom died with the exception of one. After thinking it over, weighing the pros and cons, it was decided that both dogs would be welcome and loved in our home.

Everybody had an opinion...

Are you crazy? Isn't it a bit soon? Sophie's body is barely cold. Can you manage two dogs? Why Thailand? Aren't there local dogs that need homes? And on and on and on.... It got to the point where I just didn't want to tell the story because people were so careless with their words and it just made me feel worse. To everybody that had something positive to say...thank you, you've made this journey easier.

Today....

Today we pick up our doggies and there is much excitement in our home. We are tracking their flights, getting all of the gear ready, but most of all, we are opening our hearts. It's not hard to love a dog, it's not hard to love two dogs, and there are so many doggies out there that need loving homes. Dogs love like no human ever could...without conditions, without limits, and most of all, without selfishness. I've discovered that my home and heart are empty without the companionship of a dog. I love my family, my cat, my friends but in order to feel complete, I need a doggie (or two).

https://www.facebook.com/rescuepawscanada/

Coconut

Sam and Coconut

Sam

Where did you go?

Hey "Friends"...

Where the hell did you go?

What's that? You got a new boyfriend, girlfriend, fuck friend? Huh...How long do you think that will last?

What's that? I have a different opinion than you on the latest Social Justice Warrior cause so you think we have nothing in common anymore?

What's that? I got angry one time because you just kept putting me down and I snapped at you?

What's that? I parent my kids differently than you do so I'm not worthy of your company or that of your kids?

What's that? You just don't want to make the effort even though I'd be there for you in a heartbeat despite our past differences?

OK.

What's that? You need something? You need my help? You need a place to stay? You need an understanding ear? You need a shoulder to cry on? Your life sucks? You want me to support your latest endeavor? You expect me to make the effort when you make none?

No.