Posts Tagged ‘love’

I don’t care. 

January 9, 2017

Well… ​it’s been a while. I often write when our dude is struggling,  to work through it. So for some reason I thought I could only write about our journey with raising a son who battles mental illness daily. Then it dawned on me, who says? I can write about whatever I want to write about. It’s always been my way of processing. So I shall branch out a bit…

I am always grateful, and always lucky and blessed. But I am also human. I get frustrated,  angry,   sad, exhausted, and plain sick and tired. I am blunt and honest and wear my heart on my sleeve, albeit I always try to be kind. If you want all sunshine and lolly pops chances are I am not your type of person. I am real, always.  I am finally ok with this. 

I have finally reached that point in my life where I am OK with me. In the last few months I think it’s become more apparent that I don’t pretend to be something im not. And I don’t expect everyone to get me, or get my opinions. But I have also gotten to a place that I won’t let people treat me badly or make me feel less than because we don’t agree. You are no better than me, nor am I you. 

I quite honestly am sick and tired of adults using differing opinions as a valid reason for belittling, blaming, shaming and treating others like crap.  Not ok! Period. Ever. Don’t care. No excuse. 

We don’t need others permission to be ourselves. I am not sure where or when we start to  think we do, but we do, all of us.  What I see playing out online sometimes, in the news  etc, is plain and simple unacceptable. It’s sad,pathetic and completely shameful. And frankly I don’t get it and I am sad that  people just don’t say anything, to avoid the above. You are allowed to use your voice. Just be kind using it. Don’t let hate and stigmas have a louder one. 

I don’t care what kind of car you drive, the size of your house, the color of your skin, which gender you like or identify with, I don’t even care which washroom you use. I don’t care if you are a scholar, a drop out, if you win medals or prefer gaming.I don’t care if you go to church, are an atheist,  any religion or somewhere between them all.  And really, if it doesn’t directly affect someone in a negative way (which I have a hard time thinking of how any of really truly  would) it does not give people the right to be cruel to you.    I don’t mean to sound harsh, I just don’t care. Be yourself. Be you. I will be me. And hear me when I say there’s people like me out here who aren’t judging or stereotyping you for being you. 

  Those things are not what I find important. Those things don’t make the person you are. I choose to view each person I meet as the person, not lumped as a group. A rotten  apple doesn’t make the whole basket rotten.  Being different does not mean bad. To me at least, it means the opposite. If we were all the same, that’s where  I would have a problem. How boring. How ridiculously boring.  
I live by one rule. If you are kind to me, I am kind to you, and I actually mean it. Oh and if you aren’t kind, I don’t assume the rest of “your kind”  aren’t. For the love of God, we are each individual. None of us are the same. That’s one of the most beautiful things about humanity to me. 

You are the only person who needs to accept you. You are the only person who you have to prove anything to. 

Those who choose to stereotype, belittle, bully and try to use their own anger and power and voice to make others feel less than? Who needs em? Not me. 

Different is good! Normal is boring. And what the hell is normal anyway? 

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Remember your heart 💓

May 31, 2015

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I am the first to admit, I hate that my kids are growing up. Yet during a tragic week  I came to realize that I no longer have little kids. I have an amazing and compassionate young man who is still and always will be more concerned about others than himself. And I have a strong, capable and loving young lady who is going through an extremely difficult time essentially alone, yet like her brother continues to bare her heart, no matter how many times it’s crushed,  they don’t stop giving and caring and loving. So though my kids are no longer little their hearts remain the same.
A lesson brought home this week.

Dear Kids,

I know life is hard. It will knock you down.
You may Stumble, but you always get up.
We are here to prop you up until you can stand strong again.

I know that you will feel left out or left behind sometimes. Know that you are never alone. Ever.
We are here. Though we may be parents, not friends, we will always be your friends when you need one.

I know that as you question so many things in life, you will be frustrated that there’s not always the answers you need.
We will do our best to give them to you, though we still don’t have them all ourselves.

I know that sometimes you will feel lost.
We are easy to find. Come find us.

I know that life will suck sometimes, sometimes it will suck the life out of you.
We promise it will fill back up. And we will do all we can to add the air.

I know that life will try to break your heart, harden it even.
We love your hearts. They are kind, sensitive and loving. Remember that no matter how much it breaks, it may have some scars but it will the core of your heart will remain. When life tries to harden it, remember your heart. And save it.

I know sometimes you will feel unloved.
We love you always.

Love,
Your Parent’s

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Remember your heart 💓

May 31, 2015

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I am the first to admit, I hate that my kids are growing up. Yet during a tragic week  I came to realize that I no longer have little kids. I have an amazing and compassionate young man who is still and always will be more concerned about others than himself. And I have a strong, capable and loving young lady who is going through an extremely difficult time essentially alone, yet like her brother continues to bare her heart, no matter how many times it’s crushed,  they don’t stop giving and caring and loving. So though my kids are no longer little their hearts remain the same.
A lesson brought home this week.

Dear Kids,

I know life is hard. It will knock you down.
You may Stumble, but you always get up.
We are here to prop you up until you can stand strong again.

I know that you will feel left out or left behind sometimes. Know that you are never alone. Ever.
We are here. Though we may be parents, not friends, we will always be your friends when you need one.

I know that as you question so many things in life, you will be frustrated that there’s not always the answers you need.
We will do our best to give them to you, though we still don’t have them all ourselves.

I know that sometimes you will feel lost.
We are easy to find. Come find us.

I know that life will suck sometimes, sometimes it will suck the life out of you.
We promise it will fill back up. And we will do all we can to add the air.

I know that life will try to break your heart, harden it even.
We love your hearts. They are kind, sensitive and loving. Remember that no matter how much it breaks, it may have some scars but it will the core of your heart will remain. When life tries to harden it, remember your heart. And save it.

I know sometimes you will feel unloved.
We love you always.

Love,
Your Parent’s

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My son isn’t bipolar

February 8, 2015

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My son isn’t bipolar.
He has bipolar.

Some days it’s really hard to differentiate because bipolar can either take over, or creep in at any given time. And those moments it feels as if he is bipolar, because those moments you try so hard to push through to support and get him, actually him, back.

As parents it’s hard to share our world, because the world can be pretty cruel to our kiddos.  It’s full of misinformation, stigmas, stereotypes and ignorance. And as a parent of a mentally ill person, we know all to well how quickly those things can tip our children to a point of crisis.  And as those suffering it’s overwhelming and terrifying to try and get people to understand you are more than the label on your medical charts. Or simply understand you for you.

But at the end of the day my son has a name. And he is him, not bipolar, or any of his other diagnoses.
Truth be known not many people get to know him. Be it because they choose not to or because he prefers to not let them.
There’s a few who get to see the twinkle in his eye, and fewer who get to hear his laughter and fewer yet who see his heart.

He is not bipolar. He is so much more.

He is kind and compassionate and gentle. Though I often wish he was more so toward himself.

He will always think of others before himself. He worries more about those close then himself during his cycles.

He has more empathy then anyone I’ve ever met.

He has a unique humour, is a computer and historical whiz.

He tries harder in almost anything then your typical child. He has to because life doesn’t come easy to him.

He is an amazing big brother and incredible son.

If he likes you, he likes you unconditionally. And will always have your back. His friendship doesn’t waiver, which can be hard because he doesn’t understand why others do.

And his family is not only his strength, but his heroes, best friends and comfort. He takes pride in his cousin’s and sisters achievements and is their biggest cheerleader.

And if he let’s you see that sparkle, you can guarantee you are lucky and spec

ial and will

always be an important part of his life. Because that sparkle doesn’t show for just anyone.

The kid is more resilient than most, and braver then I will ever be.

He has a name, and it’s not bipolar.

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Lessons from grandpa

January 5, 2015

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My grandpa was my hero and I his little  angel.
12 years have passed since I lost one of the most influential people in my life. My grandpa would be celebrating his 100 th birthday this month, one special occasion we shared. 

The man should have never made it to where he did (being highly premature in 1915 was not what it is today, fighting the front lines of the entire second world war was almost unheard of) but in doing so he brought so much to so many. My Grandpa taught me many many lessons.  Most of which can be transferred to all parts of life.

1. Humour : laugh. ALOT. At funny things but also yourself.  Laughing at yourself, your mistakes, your comical errors will lessen the load.  Life can be funny,make it so.

2.  Tell your story: The only thing my grandpa didn’t speak of often was his war years.  Otherwise the man told stories and shared memories, always! Those stories and memories gave me a huge appreciation for years passed, what hard times really mean, and that everyone has a story to share, everyone has been through tragedies, and we are not here to lessen them, judge or criticize.
We all have a voice, use it and use it wisely.

3.   Friendliness/kindness :One of my fondest memories is morning coffee at the local coffee shop every morning to enjoy a hot chocolate with the farmers and the wives, and the trips tucked in the back seat to the nearest city for Sunday trips during my visits.  Both entailed meeting friends and strangers alike. And strangers become friends. Smile at people, start a conversation, it may just be the best thing you’ve done in a while. I never heard the man dismiss someone or be rude.  He taught me to be kind, to everyone until proven otherwise, then still be kind.

4. Commitment.  This is from both grandpa and grandma.  Don’t just walk away from a marriage, home, friendship because this moment is tough.  When you make a commitment, follow through. My grandpa returned from war, married grandma and brought baggage like most of us would turn away from.  She stood by him, loved him and truly was his better half.  He was the oldest home dialysis patient in Canada.  Three times a day those two would sit down for the treatment, grandma administrating, grandpa talking.  They taught me perseverance and strength, that even during the bad there can be wonderful.  All because of a commitment they took seriously.

5. Hard work: the man worked hard. I often sat in his workshop while he tinkered.  The smell of sawdust still tears me up.  Sure by this time he was retired, but his hands were never idle.  He taught me to take pride in my work and in myself.  He taught me I was good enough, smart enough and determined enough to do whatever I wanted to do. The quiet moments we shared puttering were some of the best and carried the biggest lessons of all.  He believed in me, trusted me and showed me that giving up was never an option.

6. Take time for yourself : grandpa loved his naps, his cartoons and his wood shop.  I believe that those moments were his and his alone.  Time to think, ponder, reflect. He genuinely liked his own company. I watched and learned that no matter what is going on, it is perfectly acceptable to take that myself moment.  To say no, to rest when you need and to enjoy your own company, so you can be the best you. Heck if you don’t like yourself it’s kind of hard for others to!

7. Be you : my grandpa taught me that being me was enough.  Even if it took me a while to get it.  He always always accepted not only me for me, but others as well just the way we were.  He didn’t care what colour you were, what size you wore, how many degrees you held, or how much money you had.  He only cared if you were decent and kind. And when you messed that up, he still liked ya! He loved me enough to prove to me that I was loved, unconditionally, for always.

Yes lessons learned from grandpa are some of life’s best lessons.

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Be kind. It’s not a competition.

October 4, 2014

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Be kind. It really is that simple.
We all have moments where we’re not, no one can be perfect.
But we sure can be mostly kind.

The area I live in has seen horrific loss recently, and others struggling with scary realities and futures.  It has brought kindness to the forefront for me.
You see one illness or one loss  does not trump another.
Pain is not a competition.
Pain and grief are individual and personal, and we need to support those people through the rough journey, but be gracious in knowing others to are suffering and struggling with their own battles.

Emotions run high,  hearts break and I can’t help but wonder how I can make it less.
I can’t.
But I can be kind.
I can listen.
I can support.
I can encourage.

I have chosen to be kind.  You see I live in fear and pain everyday with my child. But that doesn’t make theirs any less. And theirs doesn’t make my fears and pain less.

I have had two lovely ladies who know my child and the bipolar, anxiety struggles we face,  Grace me with kind words this week.  And those kind words mean more than anyone can imagine. And I can only hope my words and acts of kindness can be that to others.

Often with pain, loss and grief, kindness comes out of the woodwork, in many different forms.
But then it passes. And we March on with our lives.
What if we shared that same kindness always?
What if we gave all the time?
Being a mother of a child with chronic mental illness, I see kindness in abundance in times of crisis. And yes those are the times I need it most,  and am so grateful for it. It has given me a completely different perspective than before.
Kindness no matter the size is just that,  kind.
A smile, a door held open  a pass of the Kleenex. A ride,  a shoulder, an ear. A gift, a poem , a coffee. 
It’s really that simple.

Because like pain, illness and loss doesn’t trump another. One act of kindness doesn’t trump another act of kindness.
Kindness is not a competition either.
And I firmly believe no act is to small, at any time.

Be kind people. Even when it’s hard, even when you’re hurting, give someone a smile or a hug.

Be kind. It’s that simple.

Grandma, you taught me…

September 15, 2014

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What I wouldn’t give for a little longer.
September seems to still suck after five long years.
I can’t believe it’s been that long.
Some days I smile just by simply thinking of how you’d react to something. How you are chuckling at you’re girl. How you’re wrapping your boy in hugs. How much you would love this,  hate that.

Grandma you taught me…
To say what I mean, and mean what I say.
To hug tight and cry hard.
To be my child’s biggest protection. To be their soft place.
To be open. 
To enjoy the sunshine. And naps!
To be graceful and grateful.
To listen carefully, and enjoy the stories.
To be who I am. And if they don’t like it, someone loves me anyway.
To be proud.
To savor good coffee, and dump the crappy stuff down the drain!
To respect, but not to be trampled on.
To embrace change and differences, even if we don’t like it.
To laugh at myself.
To enjoy a good TV show.
That eating cheesecake for breakfast is perfectly acceptable.
That Kahlua in your coffee when you’re struggling is just fine!
That butter is really good for you, so is candy and bread is a main food group!
That life is to short to hold a grudge.
To shop local as much as you can. But to have fun when taking a road trip. And yes giving the finger to asshole driver’s is again acceptable.
That shit happens, and then you carry on.
That being kind is always worth it.
That I married someone pretty awesome, and to cherish him.
You taught me to love life.
Taught me to take the bad and make it good.
Taught me I am somebody and I’m good enough.
Your words and your hugs are missed.  Your heart and your humour remain my best memories.
Today I’ll have an amaretto coffee and continue to remember my very best friend.

Tomorrow, you just never know

August 12, 2014

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I typically don’t join the hype when a celebrity passes.  But the loss of a legend is a bit different. And the reason for his passing more so.
A sad day for everyone when a life is lost that created so much joy.
But a reminder that you truly never know.
His family knew. And as any family in the trenches of mental illnesses knows, it’s a life threatening condition. One battled hard every day.
So today my heart hurts for his family.
If you are in the trenches, either yourself or a loved one,  you know the battle. You know the pain,  the struggle, the heartache to just keep going.
Help doesn’t always help. To just tell someone to suck it up makes it worse.
Sometimes there’s not a damn thing you can do,  but hope it passes and they’re with us tomorrow.
My hope is loosing such a visible, loved person won’t be in vain.
That next week the support and outpouring of understanding for those battling won’t stop when the shock wears off.
I love and appreciate the tweets and posts flying around today supporting mental health, but will they continue?
Probably not, but I hope the thoughts remain.
For those in the trenches will still be in the mud.
And the family of the beloved actor will still be remembering.
Life will go on,  as it always does, but the pain of the loss of loved ones all over the world to suicide will always remain.
It sucks. Period.
But let’s remember the laughter. The joy. And the good.
Because tomorrow, you just never know.

*if you or someone you know is at a point of loss, please contact someone. There is no shame. Saving a life is never a waste,*

Scared, proud, sad, happy

July 20, 2014

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How can 13 years go so fast, yet so slow?
There were days I thought that would last forever.
Doctors visits, therapy sessions and hospital stays that seemed endless.  In fact I was sure at those moments they were the end of the world.
Dude turns 13 today.  And yes I shed a tear (or more ).
I look back on the moment I first became a mother.
I remember the joy, the fear most of all the love.
My first little (literally ) miracle baby. With a head full of jet black hair and old eyes.
I remember almost instantly becoming a protective mama bear.
I was young (21), and I was scared.
Could I do this? Would I be good at being a mommy?  What if I had more clue? I didn’t!
As the years passed and we learned our boy was not going to be the typical child, I realized I really truly didn’t care. If we had him, that was enough.
I learned that each day truly is a blessing, because you really never know what tomorrow will bring.
You see there are moments that I wish he could be as free as other children.  Moment’s my heart physically hurts for him. Moment’s that having the weight of bipolar and other illnesses is almost to much to bare for him.
But there’s moment’s of accomplishment, moment’s of strength and Oh so many moment’s of courage.
And there’s love.  Endless love and caring and kindness.
We don’t know what to expect as the teen years come.  OK we know kind of what the general teen years bring. 
But see I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t that scared mom all over again.  We know these years will
be our toughest.  We know That life will throw us some huge curves in these years to come.
And I’m scared.  I’m scared I won’t have the words, and the comfort he’ll need.  I’m scared even if I do they won’t be enough.
Yes I understand I need to embrace this stage.  Yes I am loving and looking forward to the young man he is and will become.
But there’s a piece of me that’s petrified because you see a teen /young adult with bipolar is a very scary, very real thing. It’s not the normal ups and Downs.  Not the normal attitude.  No it’s very realistically life or death.
So yes say what you will, I’m scared.
I’ve shared that I’ve been having a hard time with the looming 13th birthday, but o haven’t shared why, because it’s not a great or easy thing to share.  And it’s a lonely place to be with a fear you’re not sure people will understand.
But you don’t need to understand. 
Actually I’m glad most people don’t, because that would mean you are going through it.
But I’m proud. So extremely proud of my son. I love his compassion, his acceptance, his understanding, his loyalty, his old soul.
I love that if he let’s you see that twinkle in his eye you know your special!
I love his perseverance, his strength and his bravery.
I love his heart, his wisdom and his elusive laughter.
I am so incredibly proud he chose me for his mom.
I am so incredibly proud to call him my son.
May the stars shine bright just for you buddy, may your worries be small and your days bright.
May you receive all the happiness you deserve.

Size DOESN’T matter

June 30, 2014

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I don’t care if you’re big, small or in-between.  I hate the image the media has created for girls and woman to look up to.
I am in No way a fan of the super skinny image portrayed everywhere we turn. I want to raise my daughter to love herself for her. More importantly raise my children to see past the physical that we so often focus on.
Our size does not make us who we are.
There are those who struggle to loose weight, gain weight or simply be healthy.
But I would love for somebody to be able to tell me why social media, media in general finds it necessary to promote pitting women against women, simply based on our body type?
I am on the smaller size.  Though I don’t typically speak about myself, I am.
I wear a size four or small.
And that’s OK!
My daughter is built like me, but the men (and many women ) I love in my life are bigger than I.
And that’s OK!
I have seen so many “jokes” posted attacking skinny people lately though that my head is spinning.
I am no less a woman because I am skinny, as you are not less because you’re larger, and she’s not less because she’s all muscle!
Just because I am skinny doesn’t mean these “jokes ” don’t cut like they would on the flip side.
We as women ALL have our insecurities, heck I’m covered in scars and you’ll never see me in shorter shorts or swimsuits! we are ALL sensitive to weight comments.
Here’s a little thing many don’t know.
When I was younger, I struggled with anorexia.  My 5’6 self weighed in at a whopping 75-80 pounds.
Not only did I look like a bobble head, I was not healthy!
I look back on why I turned down that path, and I pin point it to comments from other’s. 
I remember my parents giving me anything I wanted to eat. I am pretty sure I lived off frosted flakes and hutterite cream (cream thick like butter! ), and chocolate ensure!
It was not fun.
I have not stepped on a scale in probably 15 years, aside from pregnancy and surgery.
I eat what I want,  I will not try this diet or that. Because I know enough of myself that it could turn out very badly!
So yes the comments hurt us “skinny chicks ” the same as they hurt the rest of women.
I can only imagine the self acceptance that would happen if we as women just simply stopped.  Took the body image game back into our hands instead of allowing media dictate to us.
What if we Stopped sharing ANY and ALL body image posts that pick apart any particular body type.
We need time lead by example for our daughter’s.

That it’s not your size that matters.
That there is so so much more to a person than the size of your clothes, or a number on a scale.
That you are No less a woman because of your shape or size.
That you are beautiful!
That you are good enough!
That you are smart!
That you are strong!
That you are loved!

I know I for one am tired of it all.