Care Cards

I wonder sometimes where my obsession for sending mail to people by post (that tangible real mail they can touch with my own handwriting) comes from. Why? Why send a card just to say I am thinking of you? No news, just … I thought of you today.

I send them as often as I can to anyone who will give me an address. Why?

Care Cards!

When I was in Bible College we had student mail boxes. Beside them was a rack of blank cards called Care Cards. Did someone help you? Did you think someone gave a great insight in class? Did someone get some sad mail and need a boost?

Care cards were there to send that message. You could sign it or not. If you didn’t really know the person but wanted to send them some love you could look their mailbox number up on the board and just stuff in a care card.

Care cards are the first place I found some real self esteem. I was overweight and not the most outgoing. I stuck to a close group of people who weren’t the cool crowd. Somewhere along the way people started to notice me.

Maybe it was that I smiled at people even if I didn’t talk. It could be my dorm mates just saw me differently after living with me…  I’m not sure.

By the time I was done my first year at Briercrest? My entire dorm room was wall papered with Care Cards. With every expression of gratitude for a kindness I never realized I gave and every thought for my well being? I learned people love me for who I am.

Bible College was the first place I never ‘faked it’. Still people cared.

I was so troubled back then. Not even 18 and fresh out of high school.  Homesick. Sexually confused. A bit suicidal.

Every care card got me through another day. The people who sent them to me, anonymous or otherwise, have no idea how they impacted a scared teenage girl.

Pretty sure I just figured out where my penchant for sending postal love comes from 😉

 

 

 

Advertisements

The Things I Believe And Do

I was told what to believe and do for the first half of my life. In those years I rarely challenged those things I was told. I made a few comments, asked a few questions but mostly the things I challenged all happened inside my own mind because I was, well, a child mainly. And also scared. It left me as a very confused young adult.

Now? I meet all kinds of people and work on developing my belief system regularly. I try to be open about it.

I’ve been accused of both doing and believing a lot off things in the past three years.

Some accusations came from the media and those were, just, well, media being media. I suppose. Other accusations were from people I thought were friends, even some family. They decided I was ‘too political’ and/or ‘too different’ for them so they left the friendship behind. Some accusations come from strangers because they read something said about me and formed their opinion based on what they heard. Seems I’m misunderstood about a lot of issues.

More recently there are ‘friends’ who have said things to me, about myself and others, based on world politics. They have made some disparaging remarks based on what they think. Sent me nasty messages because they assume my position on any given subject.

Let me be clear – I don’t care about them attacking – that is not why I am writing this. I’m not feeling bad about online shaming, political or otherwise.

I am not crying for a safe space!

It actually made me think.

There are people who may have read things about me, learned things about my past or for whatever reason have formed their opinion about what I think on political or other socially relevant issues. My own brothers/sister won’t talk to me because they think I am some kind of political dissenter. One brother called me a danger to society and said it was better if my nieces didn’t know me.

I’ve let them all go as they wanted to leave my life. “Don’t want to talk to me? Your issue not mine.” was the attitude. THEY let go, not me.  They tossed me away over things they assumed without really knowing what I believe.

When these things are on my mind like they are tonight? I let them ruminate. Sometimes they lead me to a super angry and hurt place. More often it’s a defensive place where I want to tell them all how much they hurt me by simply misunderstanding me.

Right this minute? I’m not interested in ‘defending’ myself. It’s not about feeling oppositional. It’s more about being misunderstood. Then having relationships cut off for something you don’t actually believe.

I have some radical belief situations that cross so many boundaries. I’m going to write out some of my thoughts on them so I can get my real thoughts about them off my chest and then I am letting go of worrying about this.

I tried to write them here but it became too much to include with these thoughts. I’ll cover each subject on it’s own another time

 

Dear Quatloos’ers’

Well, I once again find myself the topic of discussion on your internet forums by people who have no clue about me. I used to find it very disturbing and it made me anxious. Today? I’m laughing a bit.

You were talking about people I truly have no care for. I’ve been known to spew my own hatred of them. But in interest of TRUTH I have to point out a few things.

Firstly, Eric said (referring to Mike Hunt and Kirsten Shaw), “As Burnaby had mentioned, Mike Hunt was involved in the Grand Prairie incident.”

Wrong. Mike knew people involved in that scheme but was not involved as either a buyer or seller. He just knew people who bought into it. It’s like saying Eric stole something and Burnaby 49 is also involved because you both talk on this forum.

Secondly, Eric said, “The best that I can tell is that Mike Hunt after the debacle decamped Alberta for Qualicum. Sometime along the way, during the summer, Paul Fiola’s wife went there as well and was eventually joined by Paul when he got out of jail. If you grovel through Shanda’s blog (btw, NSFW) it seems that Hunt was ripping off the campers, at least in their opinion.”  (LOL NSFW, dirty bird read more than one post I see)

The ‘best you can tell’ is so inaccurate. Mike left AB for his own reasons, unrelated to the GP situation. I stayed in Alberta and went the distance in the court system. Paul stayed in Alberta with me under house arrest. Neither of us fled because we believed we were right. I defended myself without a lawyer, not because I am FMOTL but because my lawyer bailed last minute. He bailed when I couldn’t pay him because I am on disability. He left me hanging, two days before trial, to face court alone without any knowledge of the legal system.

After I finished with court, Paul left Alberta with me because I wanted all this behind me. In the year he was waiting for me to finish in court? RCMP and the Justice and Solicitor General for Fish and Wildlife visited our home and Paul was never arrested again. He was never hiding from them.

We came to Alberta together.And it wasn’t to Mike Hunt’s place. We came without knowing he was here and only reconnected on Facebook because we had both joined the same local group online.

I NEVER lived there. I have always found my place and paid rent for it. I would never live with Mike and Kirsten. I would go homeless before that!

Third? “it was nice to have a major chunk of the Canadian Fmotl all in one easy to access spot”

Eric, no one there is FMOTL. THAT is the funniest part. Mike Hunt doesn’t identify with any particular group. Kirsten believes in aliens and thinks she is a Nephilim. They aren’t Freemen,  just crazy.

The others who have come there or found there way there went because they had no where else to go.  Maybe Dean Kory is FMOTL, I don’t know him personally so I won’t say (unlike you, casting disparaging comments without having met him).

Mike makes promises of community but then fleeces everyone of what they can offer without giving back. Others have come and gone from there. Dean was just the most vocal online.

Burnaby 49 said, “I have to admit I dropped the ball on Dean. Everything seemed so idyllic in his hobo heaven that I stopped actively checking up on his postings.”

Is that what you spend your time doing? Following up on perceived freemen from all across Canada just to bash them online thinking you have any truth to your statements? Your accusations are based on things you read on the internet. You can’t tell me you are so gullible you think everyone types the truth on Facebook.

Burnaby, you’ve accused Paul Fiola of being FMOTL but truthfully you have very little knowledge of him either. You base your ‘truth’ on your online intel. FMOTL don’t have SIN’s, don’t file taxes, don’t have medical coverage, etc. But Paul works under a SIN, files taxes, has a driver’s license. ONLINE, he questions his government and makes grandiose statements about law and freedom. You are judging his online persona. That makes you a fool.

Lastly, when it comes down to it? You are all foolish, short-sighted and thick-headed when it comes to legal/lawful issues. You would rather banter about accusations and biased rhetoric unfounded in facts. And all your ‘intel’ is found online. Which means you believe everything you read on the internet. Which makes you more simple-minded than my six year old niece who at least has the common sense to make a squinchy face and say, “That doesn’t seem right. Can we look it up more?”

Sincerely,

Shaunda

Letter To A Lawyer

I finally got a hold of Paul’s lawyer today. We argued on the phone and he yelled at me and made me cry so I told him I would have to call him back. Instead, I sent him this email.
I want to thank you for taking my call today. I know, because of my health issues, I can be aggressive and combative. I appreciate your patience with me as I try to express my concerns in ‘not the best fashion’.

Whether you believe it or not? You and I are probably on the same page about Paul.

But, neither Paul or I understand legal process. I don’t understand why this is taking SO long. When I went through this process and my lawyer quit, all I had to do was go into the court, explain my situation and ask the judge WHY it was taking so long. My case was resolved within three days, without a trial and no criminal record (a fine), because the judge made the prosecutor resolve it with me. I told the judge I felt like I was being prosecuted maliciously.

Paul wants resolution. Even if they ask for a year because they are saying he pointed a weapon at someone? (which NEVER happened, I was present at the confrontation with Mr. Wohlgumeth, the trapper was the only one with weapons)…. he’s been in jail for over six months. At 2:1 for time served hasn’t he been in there long enough? Who are they saying he pointed a gun at? I don’t even understand that charge.

And, respectfully, why doesn’t Paul know what his charges are that he is pleading guilty to? If he is being accused of pointing a gun at someone, shouldn’t he be allowed to know who is making that accusation and answer to it? Can we find a way to communicate these things more?

He’s been a model inmate. He’s never caused a problem and when enticed into criminal activity (he got told he had to smash a skinner out) he found a way around it without being involved. But he can’t handle that kind of pressure. He’s peaceful and being confronted by violence every day is killing him. It’s so wrong what happens to people inside.

Paul is legitimately remorseful. He only wanted to buy land and he felt it was real. They (the sellers) are the ones who defended him in court the first time and told him it was finished and he could leave the province. He wants NO claim to the land, he is willing to give over all the paperwork and any information about the people who sold the land titles. There are over 500 sections that were sold. Paul was just the first to move in.The courts make him out to be some kind of ringleader but he’s just the guinea pig that got sacrificed. He will never go back. His remorse is genuine.

Even with all of that? We don’t understand. WHY isn’t the prosecution getting back to you with the actual charges? Why isn’t this in sentencing? All Paul wants is resolution and a date he can come home to help me because I am sick.

We just want to know the date. When do I need to hang on until. WHY isn’t this being resolved. We just don’t get it. He is cooperating. I’ve given you all kinds of information about mitigating circumstances. You told me in November he would be home soon and it doesn’t look like he will be here any time soon.

I need him home. YOU are a defense lawyer. I’ve seen career criminals get less time for worse things. This IS ALL POLITICS. They are trying to punish him for their perceived beliefs. How is it you can’t help them see that? (I mean that very respectfully and not in an accusing tone)

I NEED him to come home. I’ve tried to find other health care but I need my partner. The one who has lived with my illness for the past years and can care for me in the middle of the night. I need him.

He is a non-violent person who is willing to comply with whatever they ask. They say he used a gun for whatever but he didn’t. When they came to arrest him he offered them coffee, not bullets. He is not the horrible monster they are making him out to be and holding him for. And I need him home to me. For my health. Please, Mr Teskey, please….  armed robbers get less time. Please get him home to me.

I fucking hate lawyers!

Just Google Me Already

I’m kind of getting tired of the BS surrounding my life.

Petrova fined for violating Public Lands Act

My legal name is Shaunda Lee Petrova.

I have been accused of being many things. Bitch, addict, whore, skank, ha ha (https://allhoursblog.wordpress.com/2016/09/20/skank/)  And this remarkable media display is the only one I don’t cop to.

I went and lived on land that we believed was purchased from the rightful native owners. They sold it, with paperwork and signatures that included thumb prints, and land survey documents. Sold to someone (my BF who is jail over it) who would promise they would not let the Keystone Pipeline through it. No commercial activity for 10 years. A contract.

So, the government and media would like to say we didn’t have the right to purchase the land of the First Nations community who decided to sell right about the time Harper said they no longer have treaties? Seems a little well timed. On both sides.

I don’t know. I just know I moved on to First Nations land to try and protect the forest because I had paperwork that said I could.

In court? The judge called me naïve. Maybe I was. And this stuff is KINDA behind me. Because I went to court. I faced this and in court (despite what this article says) I felt like I won.

Go ahead, Google me. The other articles, various chatrooms, forums. Because today I had another person, who I consider a friend, Google me.

Yep, domestic terrorist. I take trapper’s hostage at gunpoint and get off with a $1000 fines. It’s ridiculous.

But my ex is in jail facing his side of this (which is the same charges as I have, even though Google will tell you different). I feel very sorry they are taking this out on him when I got a fine.

But that is us. So just google me. If you have any questions? Ask!

 

The Path To Smoking Crack

I made a conscious choice to take hard drugs. I didn’t slide into an addiction because I wasn’t aware of the possible addiction. I jumped into it with both feet and full knowledge. Both times!

By  the time doctors realized my health issues meant I would be off work for  a very long time I looked like a hard drug addict. And people thought that about me. My mom asked me in the mall one day if I was doing hard drugs. At that point I had dabbled but wasn’t into addiction.

I was okay with dying. I knew it may be the result of the lifestyle I was choosing.  But I felt like I was already dead so why not go out with a bang?

I had experimented with cocaine before. It wasn’t long afterward the person who sold me cocaine, James, came into my life to stay.

One ex convinced me to try crack, once, but I knew it would be dangerous so I never tried it after that until? When I was sick off work and felt like giving up I reached for cocaine. Maybe I could OD? I was naive about how that stuff works.

James didn’t have coke for me. But he asked if I wanted some crack instead. I told him I don’t even know how to smoke it. He pulled out his various pipes and a few rocks of crack and showed me.

That night, the first time I did it for real? It felt good. Better than coke and no nasal issues. And he let me smoke as much I wanted. When you are a beginner, only smoking crumbs not rocks, dealers can smoke you up to the point you need them. It costs them pennies. And one night of crack will leave you only wanting more! I became addicted quickly.

At that point I was on disability already. I was making the choice of hard drugs because I wanted to die with a bang but I still liked my apartment, etc. And crack is not cheap! So? I had my dealer move in with me.

I got a $20 piece a day. Every person who came to my place to pick up from him had to pay a tribute hoot to me. And every time he stepped up a notch in the dealer ranks? He attributed to having a safe place to work from. He rewarded me kindly. I could afford my habit because it was practically free.

Then one day there was concern about the traffic at my door. And one of his delivery guys, who often stayed at my place too, was getting unruly. I told James I would still buy off him but I needed him to move out. He left quietly, no problem, and still had his runners deliver to me at discount prices for three days.

Three days later? That unruly delivery guy beat James to death with a meat mallet and slit his throat in the new place they were staying.

That woke me up temporarily. I realized that wasn’t the kind of life I wanted. I realized how close death came to happening in my home again. It scared me a bit.

I quit smoking crack that day. Cold turkey with no program. I had cravings but no other dealer. I was too scared to seek one out. I went through withdrawal. That’s not easy, but I still didn’t go back. It’s been 8 years since my last hit of crack. My addiction lasted less than one year. I’ve been offered crack twice since quitting and turned it down. I’m confident it isn’t in my future.

Did I hurt people during my crack addiction? You bet! It’s when I pushed my family the furthest and did the most damage to my friendships. Even though most of them are still not aware of my addiction. I didn’t care about anything but getting high. I felt like I had nothing to live for so I didn’t care who I hurt by rejecting them. I was already being asked if I was on drugs because no one understood my health issues so why not make it real?

So what was I seeking? Death? What was I covering in the way of pain? Why choose that path?

Those answers I have yet to discover.

 

 

Killing My Best Friend

index

It seems like forever ago that Jake died.

Jake and I met through mutual friends. I had recently dropped out of Bible College and moved in with a girl. That fell apart. I was alone, scared and confused when the universe brought me one of the brightest lights to shine on my life. He moved in as my roommate the day after we met and we were best friends from then until he died.

He was the ‘maid of honour’ at my wedding to my first husband. He cared for me all day, ignoring things like eating, and making sure it was my special day in every way possible.

At my wedding, we didn’t have a big dinner/dance reception. My parents are very religious and we decided to respect their beliefs with our reception. We had an afternoon tea. However, the man I married is Russian so, after all the ‘day’ stuff was done, we had a party back at our new apartment  with all of his friends from the old country. Russian vodka was flowing along with wine, champagne, import beer and anything you could imagine.

I wasn’t much of a drinker at that point in my life but Jake was an alcoholic. And he matched all my husbands friends shot for shot on the vodka along with polishing off the 26oz bottle of rye I gave him to thank him.

He came to me at one point and told me he was going to be sick. I told him, “If you puke on my white carpet on my first night in my new place, I’ll kill you. Go sleep in my husband’s bedroom.”

That’s the last thing I said to my best friend. I went to wake him the next morning, to come with us to the post wedding brunch, and he was blue. We hadn’t gotten phone hook-up yet so I went across the hall and introduced myself to my new neighbours and borrowed the phone.

Police came. Because of the party circumstances we had to leave our apartment for a week while it was investigated and an autopsy done.

That’s a sad story. And I’ve told it to people who reassure me I wasn’t responsible.

So let me shed some light on it.

My first marriage was a huge lie. Literally. My ex had applied for refugee status and it was denied. I met and became friends with him because he drove pizza where I worked. I had been asked to help him with his English. Another friend of his explained the situation and asked if I would marry him.

I was a closeted lesbian who thought she could make her parents happy by giving them a straight wedding. I had compassion for his situation and wanted to help. I disagreed with Canada’s immigration laws so I convinced myself this was some kind of political protest. For so many reasons, I agreed to marry him.

It was shrouded in secrecy. I got private coaching from others who had gone through the process. It took over a year to set up, convince family this was real and have an entire ‘relationship’. We had to tell the least amount of people possible. But I told Jake.

He begged me not to do it. After everything I was doing to try and come out of the closet? He told me I was running right back in and hiding behind a wedding dress. At first he refused to have anything to do with it.

And I got upset with him. I threatened our friendship if he wasn’t willing to help me pull off the biggest bamboozle of my life. He succumbed and stepped into my big lie with me. And then spent that whole day taking care of me, instead of himself.

He wouldn’t have been there if not for my lie. He would not have been there except I threatened loss of love. When he could have gotten sick and maybe had a chance to live? I told him I’d kill him if he puked.

I have often shared the pain of losing Jake. But I’ve been hiding the incredible guilt I feel over being responsible for his death. I’m not sure yet how I am going to accept responsibilty, forgive myself and move past this. But I’ve come to understand this has affected me much more deeply than was willing to admit.

There are people that still don’t know the truth and I will need to be honest and ask forgiveness. It’s time to stop hiding in the shadows of this dark secret. Hopefully bringing light will also bring healing.

 

 

Why Did We Fight?

170547086479945

There were many things I am learning and discovering that led to the breakdown of my marriage. The more I explore that and recognize my own side of it I am being reminded of why we fought so long for us.

When we were platonic friends we really respected each others space. We’re both a little introverted and like our alone time so our friendship was maintained by checking in with each other online. It was genuine nonetheless.

When we did see each other we spent anywhere from minutes to hours at his kitchen table or in his gaming room, drinking coffee, engrossed in conversation about everything from politics to homesteading and survival-ism. We love how each others minds work. And we make each other laugh out loud so hard we have tears streaming down our cheeks on a regular basis. I enjoy his company more than anyone in the world.

Sometimes I’d make him dinner out of food in his fridge. Looking back that was because I was spending my money on drugs and needed food. He didn’t know that about me then.

Everything we went though over the three years of our journey taught me a few other important things as well.

We respected each other. I think that is one of the things we lost sight of. We both ended up disrespecting each other. Me with my issues and him with his reactions. But in our communications lately I’ve been reminded we had an important quality a lot couples never have. Respect.

We made a great team! We did a lot of hard physical work living in the forest. There were days we were angry with each other, not speaking, but we had to pull it together enough to work in our anger and get things done. And we did! When we had some legal problems and no money for a lawyer? He studied night and day to give me the right words to defend myself successfully.  Twice we packed or sold everything we owned and moved provinces away to start over. Just the two of us!

I always felt like there was nothing I could not do as long as he my back. Apparently I was living in denial because there was lots I wasn’t sharing or letting him help me with. That is my issue to work on. Though it’s probably why I reach out to him for communication as I am learning. He stimulates the growth. He was my partner.

Passion! The evening we decided to take the step from years of platonic friendship to having an intimate relationship I was anxious. But that was unnecessary. I knew from the moment he kissed me it was going to be remarkable and he still managed to blow my mind. Unlike a lot of couples, where the sex gets monotonous over time, ours only got more passionate. Celibacy makes reconciliation very attractive many nights!

Trust and forgiveness! We don’t go through each others emails, social media or electronic devices even though we’ve freely shared our passwords. He did once, to try and help me, and I forgave him. We never strayed from our marriage bed. I crossed a boundary once and he forgave me.

Hiding my drinking broke the trust. It’s the most major contribution to the breakdown of my marriage and why we broke up.

Companionship, respect, partnership, passion, trust and forgiveness! We had all of those. As we watched them slipping away we fought hard to try and save it. But the damage was done, kept getting repeated and our own individual pain was so much that we couldn’t fix us.

Looking back is sad sometimes. It’s necessary for healing and growth to happen. But you get reminded about what you lost. When you start to be honest with yourself about why? It can be very heartbreaking.

Because I was honest with him about my alcohol issues and apologized for breaking his trust?

Some of my problems came from fighting so very hard to love you. I got very discouraged by being unable to reach you.
Granted my attempts were probably not what you needed. But a year ago you didn’t know what you know now. I did. I saw your pain.  I saw your issues.  I saw you hide and drown them out.
I was hurt terribly by what I saw. That you had such pain and I was unable to help you because you didn’t share with me. I felt like you didn’t trust me or care enough about me to allow me in.
If I could change one thing about me is that I wish I could have reached ‘you’ much much sooner.
I want for you to see the real me. Not the me who is depressed and angry because I couldn’t figure out how to reach my wife!!
I’m so happy that you have reached this milestone in your recovery!

Knowing he is happy for my journey, even though it means being apart, means at least we didn’t lose friendship!

The Many Faces Of Me

I like pictures! What I find most interesting is the pictures I love the most are the ones that, in real life, I look nothing like them. Everything I like about me is fake.

red corset

All that hair? Wig! Corset holding in all kinds of stuff and very padded push up bra. I look nothing like this but I love that for a split second a camera thought I did!

161834514017869

Also not really what I look like. This was when I lived in the forest clearing bush trails by hand. It was the most FIT I have ever been but that has fallen to the side. I still love this picture though. For a brief time I felt like I had some core strength!

fat shaunda

Would you believe? I have not looked like this for 12 years but this is one of my faces. One thing I overcame like a champion!

new

This is the most recent picture I have. It looks most like me. It’ the woman I am growing to accept.