Who Are My People?

I watch a lot a of Grey’s Anatomy. Whenever a character says, “They’re my person.”? I get this strange feeling inside. Maybe jealousy?

It had me wondering who my people are. I’ve pushed so many people away. Wronged people who could have been my people. Hell, I barely have family anymore.

So who are my people?

I have my best friend ever, Corey. He has seen me through me through two hard addictions and has been a constant friend without being an enabler for those things. He is an example to me of recovery and living a healthy lifestyle. When I needed a place to stay for an appointment in Winnipeg, after going to Alberta, he let me stay for a week. He doesn’t do overnight guests so that was huge.

When I went to return the key? He told me I always have a place to go as long as that key is on my chain. He writes me letters and sends me postcards from his world travels. He loves me. He is my person.

There is a woman, Val, that I met a few times before she helped me when I needed money and she needed a housekeeper. We’ve been friends in person and online for a long time. Bonded like sisters so much she came out to visit me on my island. And the sisterhood continues. She is another who has told me I always have a place to go with her. She is my person.

I recently reconnected with some friends from Bible College. We have all changed. Adam, Kari, Frank. One is a missionary, one came out of the closet and the other rarely goes to church and is still working out beliefs. One of them told me there is room for me with them if I ever need. I could probably stay with another but he’s in Fiji LOL

The thing is I reconnected with each of them where we left off. They have changed and told me how. I have changed and told them how. What has not changed in any of them is their spirit. They are each the same to me as the day we lost touch for a time. The stories have changed but the hearts and the love have not. They are my people.

It’s pretty comforting to know I have five people! Five people I can talk to (who really know the real me) and at least three who have my back if I ever needed a place to run.

How do I forget sometimes that I am so loved? I have GREAT people!




Dealing With Responses

Sometimes you get an email from your mom after you sent her two emails that could have offended anything about her Christian and/or parental senses. And you’ve already had a bottle of wine so you are worried you will drunk respond to her email and you’re afraid to open it? That is me right now.
I’m sitting here fretting. Over what? I don’t know. I’m scared to read my mom’s email, I guess. I’m never good at responding after wine. I know whatever she has to say will trigger me.
Anger? Sadness? Feelings of shame? I could be in store for anything when I open that email. I could also be in store for kindness and understanding. My mom is not some monster. She loves me.
I mean, her nickname is ‘heart of stone’, but that doesn’t mean she has NO feelings. She has surprised me in the past with epic understanding. So, in fact? It means she is probably suffering from an inability to express her emotions because somewhere she was taught that was wrong and that has been part of why we struggle.
Sitting here afraid to even know what she is going to say is killing me. I want to read it so bad but I’m so scared of what I will read.
She is the most important, but not the only, person I have asked deep questions from lately.
Which begs to question why I would have put questions out there in the first place.  Am I longing so much for familial connection that I will risk all this emotional upset? I’m freaking out. BUT… I sent the initial contact asking questions.
To anyone I have asked the hard questions of lately….
Tell me. Because I am scared you won’t. Tell me. Even if I can’t deal with it. Tell me. I’ll respond badly. I can assure you.  But? Tell me.
And know, please, if you really love me? That as much anxiety as I might feel even before opening the email, no matter what it says, I love you.
I’m gonna go read that email now. I feel like I am going to suffocate.

A Letter To My Mom

I have been struggling a lot emotionally lately. Some of it started around the time of my birthday. I made some great personal changes in my life (pool membership/exercise, back to my counselor, etc).

However I have also been fighting and struggling with something. I haven’t talked about it because it makes me so sad. But I need to let it out. So, this is the email I sent my mom today.

This might be hard to read. Sorry.

I’m sorry I didn’t send you a birthday card this year. I was struggling emotionally and financially. I couldn’t afford card and postage. And I brought myself into enough emotional normalcy to at least send an email.
And I am sorry it was an email, not something more personal.
Is that why you never sent me a birthday card?
You taught me always to send thank you notes, be reciprocal. You complained about how Brandi never sent anything…   so why should you? And I totally understand that attitude. I’ve ditched many a pen pal for lack of reciprocation.
This was the first time I can remember that I never got a birthday card from you. I walked to the office so expectantly for a week before and after. And I have spent weeks crying about it.
I can’t cry anymore. I need to move past this.
I feel like the day I was born isn’t worth your celebration anymore. You’d send a card with your birthday message and often a verse of Scripture that I would meditate on that day.To honour you and the day you gave life to me.
I really missed that this year. i don’t believe the same things as you but it doesn’t mean I don’t want and need you to be in my life in YOUR ways. I missed my birthday Scripture this year.  I looked for it for weeks….. and I am still crying.
I love you. I’m sorry to put this on you.
I feel selfish for being SO sad about it. My parents are having their own health issues. And I missed their birthdays as well. Who am I to judge my mom for whatever reason?
But I have been crying for weeks. And I need to let it go. And writing it is the only way. Hopefully tonight I fall asleep more peacefully.

Chat With An Ex

Nope. Not boyfriend. My meth dealer.

I’m four years clean. I walked away by leaving behind family, friends and everything I was comfortable with to pursue a healthier lifestyle across the country. I wanted desperately to be free from hard drugs but knew if I stayed in Winnipeg I would be plagued by them or dead. Or in jail. Whatever the options were? I wasn’t interested.

I left it behind.

I learned today that shortly after I left Winnipeg my primary meth dealer was arrested. He spent time in jail and cleaned up.

Mikey was a lifetime (since teenage) meth junkie. He was shooting meth with needles when I met him. Same age as I was but he hadn’t gone more than a couple months without his drug since 16. I was new to it. He taught me all kinds of things about smoking. Educated me on venues that sold meth pipes. Sold to me in bulk.

I sold weed, he sold meth. Sometimes we would trade. Other times he cut me a deal because I was roomies with a prostitute he sold to and it was easier to sell to me bulk and have me take care of her (and her gal pals) than deal with their calls however many times they earned a twenty.

He was really good to me as far as drug dealers go. Always gave me extra personal. Gave me deals, gave me customers he didn’t want to deal with which meant I smoked more for free. Excellent dealer.

When I walked away from that life I left behind knowing a lot of people.

But today I talked with Mikey. He’s been clean shortly less than I have. He has a good job and he is doing well. And we still cross a distance of miles but I am so happy we can be friends who talk to each other.

It’s years later but I really feel like I have someone I can talk to about that past. Someone who doesn’t judge. Someone who can tell me about their struggle. Someone who knew me at my absolute worst. And knows the struggle. And still loves me.

I am so glad I got to chat with him.

I’m Not Stupid

I was praised as a child because of my intellectual abilities. If you count standardized testing (I personally don’t put a whole lot of faith in that) I tested in the top 3% of the country as a child. I always passed exams and often received honour awards for grades, etc. without putting in a lot of effort. I never believed I was the smartest cookie in the room but I was confident I was intelligent.

I went to Bible College, not university, but I chose as many electives courses outside of Bible curriculum so I could be versed in things beyond Bible. I’m not ‘educated’ by the worlds standards but I took the time to learn a lot of things on my own.

Making your way in the work force without an education is difficult. However I had worked from the time I was a teenager. My first job after college was as a cashier at a dollar store but I worked my way up. When I couldn’t go further? I found a different job with room for movement. I used my brains to work my way up at every job. I went from retail to office. Grunt work to management in every job. When I got sick and had to leave to work force? I was the Director of Administration for an international software company.

I’m not stupid.

However, I’ve been out of the world of having to really ‘think’ for a long time. And I feel like I am losing some cognitive skills. I question my own brain, get confused and sometimes I am wrong. Even knowing my own issues about myself I still like to feel smart.

I have something weighing heavily on my mind.

More than a week ago my BF and I were looking at the prices of something on Amazon. I pointed out some info about subscription price vs. one-off price, etc. He told me I was wrong. That my price comparison to the same amount of product in the store was wrong. I made an attempt to explain what I meant and he got so angry. He belittled me and called me a moron. Told me I just didn’t understand.

While that was happening? I used my phone to look the information up. I knew I was right. And instead of just fighting it out I shut up and let him say horrible things. I didn’t want to push it right then because I was nervous how he would react.

Instead I gently brought it up the next day to let him know that we could in fact get the better deal from Amazon.

Again he freaked out. He made the entire situation about me ‘being right’ and needing to prove it. He got angry and we didn’t talk for almost a week.

Since then we have talked about other things, gone about life and been our usual selves. But this issue was never resolved. And I don’t know how to bring it up again without creating uncomfortable chaos in my home.

I mean, I don’t give a flying fuck who was right. I pointed it out so he knew we could get the deal and show him how it worked. I don’t care that I was correct.

But his reaction to being shown that reminded me I DO care that I was treated like shit and belittled and made to feel like nothing. Instead of getting angry and ignoring me for days on end? What would have been nice would be an apology for calling me a moron and making me feel stupid.

I’m NOT stupid!


I was having an argument with him the other night about a week. I took to the couch (not the bed) and I was watching my Netflix addictions. Thinking he was sleeping.

I got so horny. It came over me. Like, SOOOO horny!

We’d argued. So rather than turn to him? I turned to porn. And not just porn. I went taboo. Nothing I would ever do but somehow watching something that off colour strikes something in me. TOTAL taboo. So taboo I won’t even say it in my blog.

He awoke (or just got out of bed) and his only comment upon catching me? “NICE” Then he went for a drive and came back to let me know we are only roommates. He encouraged me to pursue others.

I felt dirty. I always feel dirty about that one fantasy. I’ve never entertained the reality, nor would I. And his reaction was so… well,

I feel ashamed. Like, totally.

But not because I feel I did anything wrong. I feel shame because the person I trusted to accept everything, the one who said all I need to do is tell him truth and he would accept? He made me feel shameful.

What do I do with that?


What About Trust?

**NOTE: I started writing this weeks ago. WEEKS. I’ve been wrestling with it. We’ve argued about it and made up/broke up since. So it starts weeks ago. Others have been written since so I feel a bit backtracking… I’ll note when it changes to ‘current’.**

All he’s ever told me was he wants honesty. Truth. I shouldn’t hide things from him. He could handle whatever I had to say except a lie!

I picked up his phone.  He went into the bank, and while I was bored, I grabbed his phone. I often use his phone to play my games. I have the password. So I don’t feel as though I violated privacy.

When I unlocked his phone to play my game? It was on POF. He had recent messages and I never read them.

We both had POF accounts while apart. I took mine down (RIP POF) .

When we got back together? He made his profile ‘private’. He paid for the service so I guess ‘private’ is different. I don’t know. I thought if you hid your profile you didn’t get new messages. So ‘hiding’ the profile was fine. I never figured he was looking around.

I have declined contact with many people I met through there. Any I keep contact with are aware I am monogamous and they never press the issue. Legit friends!

But he saw the first paragraph of this blog as I was writing it. He’s smart. He figured out I saw he had POF messages.

Next day he mentioned POF casually and told me he didn’t know why he still got messages. He chalked it up to not really knowing. He made a point of showing me where it says his profile is turned off.  “I don’t know why I still get messages” was the explanation.

Not much later I was playing my game and a pop-up came along that she messaged him again. And I read it. I invaded his messages. I feel like I am a horrible person for invading his privacy. I’ve never read his messages before unless he said I could.

Except? It wasn’t long ago he was reading my emails and Facebook, without my permission, to see what I was saying to people. He called me on some shit and I changed my ways. If he can invade my privacy like that? Tit for tat.

When we got back together? I took down all my profiles. I stopped making dates. I told people who were friends that I was with him and monogamy was important.

But? I saw his phone again. After he tried to tell me it was just some random message. After he showed me he DOES have his profile turned off! Except the message WASN’T random.  As of when I saw the message? He told her she wasn’t too far to drive to meet. He also proactively messaged another to say, ‘hey, we never did get that coffee’.

If he wants other women? He should have them! I have never discouraged that. I only gave up my own options because I thought he wanted monogamy. He can’t stand the idea of another man touching me.

I DID want to be with him. I am hurt he is obviously pursuing another woman while telling me I am his only. I am hurt he lies to me while calling me a liar. I am angry he is hiding it while being morally self-righteous about me and calling me names, like slut.

All he asked of me was honesty. I’ve been giving that and living that because I committed to him. I have been all in. I also committed to myself that I will not jump on the next dick to come along just because he hurts me. I’ve been true to my word! Most importantly to ME.

If he wants to pursue other adventures? All I want is to know. I get hurt by the hidden, not by the actions. Just tell me. Allow me the same. Share the experiences. Stop calling me a slut for the same behaviour.

However we didn’t talk about it. I thought we were ‘not seeing other people’. I told any other prospect I wasn’t going to meet them. I cut off anyone who was being too persistent and made it clear I only wanted friendship.

**OK. We’re a couple weeks later. We fought and argued about it. He kept telling me I am not trustworthy while invading my email/Facebook messages and questioning me on every word to every person. He also deleted and blocked some of my friends. And told me he wants out.***

Then we kind of half made up. It was the sex. I even told him I felt unsexy but he told me he’d make me feel it. He really made love to me. He asked, after, if I felt okay with it. I gave him the replies I thought he needed to hear. But, I still felt unsexy.

Then we fought again. He went behind my back to read my messages. He read innocent things I easily explained. So I started deleting everything. Then it became about me deleting things?

WHAT? He had already deleted everything and every password/profile from the computer. But I am the one hiding things? Pot, Kettle.

But we fought hard. We are not a couple. Too many horrible things were said to me to forgive them. I won’t give him cause to call me the things he said in that horrific text. I can’t even embarrass myself to share his words. How disgusting he makes me feel.

Still? I told him I will be respectful until either of us leave. We’re being civil. I think it would be easier for me to find a place and I want to make sure he has a place so I am wanting to leave him mine.

I feel misled.

We were working on things. I had given him full access to read things. His lack of trust led him to misinterpret things I let him read. His anger/temper led him to treat me badly. In the end? And it is the end. I cannot forgive what he said yesterday. It went too far and I can never trust him to love me again.

I’ll keep him around and we can take care of each other until we find a way to make our way on our own. But I am still barely surviving his words. Too hurt to even share them. Humiliated and shameful for something I never did.\

He may not trust I’m being faithful. I will never trust a loving word that ever comes out of his mouth again.


Letters From Home

I received a personal letter recently. I write more letters than I receive. I was surprised. And it was from my dad (the adopted one, not the dead one) who never writes letters. I was super anxious when I opened it.

I thought it would be some kind of reprimand. What did he read in my blog? I mean, I don’t think he reads blogs. Pretty sure he barely gets email. But I was curious what he had to say that was so important a pen went to paper and a stamp went to envelope.

It was deeply personal. I won’t share his personal stuff but he explained a lot of things about himself that he felt led him to make mistakes in his life. In particular? He apologized for how those issues led to ‘damaging my generous and beautiful spirit’. And he said he would be grateful if I could forgive him.

It was super emotional. And my reply to him doesn’t expose anything he told me, really, so I will share it with you before I mail it.

Dear Daddy,

I got your letter a few days ago and have been taking some time to reflect before I respond.

Thank you so much for the gift. I was timely for sure. My rent doubles in July/August so September is recovery mode. I had all my bills paid but things were stretched so your gift really helped.

Thank you for sharing about your life and the things that shaped the person you were and who you’ve become.

Thank you for your apology. Know that you have my forgiveness for however you feel you wronged me.

I knew we didn’t have a lot of money when I was a child. But I never saw THAT as holding back anything. I never felt like my needs weren’t met. I saw my dad as hard-working, who did whatever he needed to for his family to get by.

If hindsight is 20/20 and you see now things could have been different? All I have in my heart is happiness for you that your years of hard work are being rewarded.

Being poor taught me to work hard at as many jobs necessary to make ends meet. It taught me to make meals instead of buying pre-fab food. It taught me used clothing is great. Now I find vintage amazing clothes at second hand stores.

If I didn’t grow up how I did monetarily? I would not be able to survive how I live now. And I make ends meet with a few treats. So I don’t just survive, dad, I’m content.


There is more to the letter.

Six pages later? I told my daddy so many things.

I told him where I think things went wrong for me.

I needed psychiatric medical help. The psychiatrist I went to? Turned out my parents ‘could tell’ he was a homosexual so they wouldn’t let me go back. I was told to talk to my pastor when I needed serious medical attention mentally.

My pastor was an excellent mathematician. He was an actuary before he quit that to pastor a church. Very intelligent. But a horrible psychiatrist. Instead of being able to talk to him about my sexual issues? I was hauled into his office, as the principal of my school, and told I was lazy.

The daydreaming? Constantly holding up class with my questions? Being stubborn about doing homework I thought was irrelevant? They were all my way of avoiding real schoolwork. I was lazy. Official diagnosis.

How different would I be now if I had gotten help then?

I wrote about my socialization. How I was damaged by being forced to attend such a small school (I did ask my parents if I could go to a different one, public). And then I was thrust into complicated social situations, with no clue how to deal with them. It was awkward and terrifying to me. I already struggled with mental health issues yet to be addressed.

I told him that at least college taught me to ask questions again. In asking them? I learned about the faith I was brought up in. In my required Bible classes? I learned so much history that I started going to the library to compare Biblical history VS the history books I never got to read in my private Christian school.

Christianity stopped making sense for me.

I started taking only the Bible classes required. All my electives became psychology, sociology and journalism so I could learn to communicate better. My field study was drama so I could explore being creative.

I told my dad I am myself pagan now.

The long and the sort of it is I don’t feel like you did me any wrong except for what happened at the hands of “Christianity”. YOU loved me and acted with your best intentions for the well-being of your family.

I love you, dad. I forgive you for whatever you think you did to damage me…..

You mentioned sadness. That comes with age. If you find the time? I really want to know what makes you sad. What are your regrets? All of them. I don’t need details. But I am someone who suffers with depression. Knowing others sadness helps. I could learn from it, maybe?

So I’m gonna close now. I feel like I could write pages more and maybe sometime soon I will. Thank you for your letter, Papa. I love you so much.

Your Chosen Daughter,





Humpty Dumpty

‘Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a big fall.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.’

Someone I respect recently told me:

Just because his broken pieces seem to fit your broken pieces doesn’t mean you will put humpty dumpty back together again.

Obviously, a broken egg cannot be put back together. Sometimes a relationship reaches a point where it cannot be put back together. I think that is my friends point. A broken egg can’t be fixed.

But I like to think outside the box.

A broken egg? Can still be useful. Fry one up and put it in a sandwich and you know it is true 🙂

Two broken eggs? They can still come together to make something awesome. An omelette, perhaps.

I put sincere thought into my friends opinion (I asked for it). I understand his comparison to Humpty Dumpty. It’s why I have been trying to take everything in my relationship with stride.

But if I were to take that comparison to another level?

When you put two broken people together who are each working individually to be better people? Sometimes there is a lot of other emotional stuff added. It gets confusing.

But, aren’t emotions what give life ‘flavour’?

We’re taking our Humpty Dumpty brokenness and turning into an omelette with every flavour of every emotion. Yes, we are both scared. But we are moving forward both separate and together (a first for us).

You can’t put broken back together. You can take only take what is broken and make it into something spectacular and new.




Yep, I’ve been seeing my ex. He stays with me most of the time. We still have some things to work on but we are working on them. We have a lot of things that were issues between us before that we have resolved. However, there are some things that linger.

This morning as he left he mentioned a lil’ anecdote. His boss’s wife came outside the other morning while he was waiting around to get going. She mentioned she heard he had a new girlfriend. He told her ‘sort of’.

Her reply? “As long as it’s not that Shaunda girl.”

When he told me the words kind of struck me. ‘As long as it’s not me?’ And it made me cry. It felt hurtful. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about that woman in our community. I have only ever said kind things about her and been grateful she helped my ex when he needed.

Who the fuck is she to say anything like, ‘as long as it’s not Shaunda’?

He felt bad for upsetting me on his way out the door. His attempt at reassurance? “It’s only because she has read your blog.” I think he meant it to be humorous and I reacted poorly by crying more.

First off? I call bullshit on that. He worked for her husband at the time him and I split. I am sure she knows all the nasty things he said (hard drug addicted, cheating whore) in addition to my blog. She’s heard a more of his side than he lets on. That’s fine. Just, let’s be real.

Secondly, how does reading my blog give anyone the right to judge me? Do they think they are better than me because I embrace my sexuality? Because I admit my failures like alcoholism? Because I have mental health issues that make me ‘difficult’?

I struggled all day with why that quick conversation made me feel so much pain.

We all fail sometimes. Not one person is perfect. I have spent a long time overcoming shame. I meet people who read my blog and they think it is awesome I can be this open. My therapist thinks my sharing everything so ‘raw’ is what is helping overcome things like religious abuse and other life trauma.

I was so angry and hurt about her comment. I dwelled on it a lot. However, I realize now it was because I needed to understand the source of the pain.

I’ve given up  being ashamed of who I am. I am not interested in people who judge me. I’ve been letting judgement roll off me back. So WHY was I letting this stranger’s comment get to me?

I was comedic when I alluded to it in You Can Call Me.

It took me a while to determine it today because I don’t want to admit this. I told my BF I would give him time for us to figure things out. I also want to have time to figure shit out.

But when he told me about it he laughed their conversation off. He assured her it wasn’t me. I’m still a dirty secret.

It’s beginning to bother me a lot that some other woman is getting credit for the dinners he takes pictures of. She’s the reason he has lunches and clean clothes and a place to stay. As long as it’s not Shaunda.

And it bothers me that for all the times I have been called a liar? I’m not worth being honest about.

So why doesn’t he admit it? I went over and over that today. We decided to keep this quiet (even though I put it in my blog). There is judgement from both sides but when I have been asked about him? I admit we are working on things.

Why doesn’t he admit to me? He is ashamed of me.

He’s mentioned before that my sexual escapades while we were apart made him feel like a chump. He said a lot of things about me while we were apart. Maybe he’s ashamed to go back to ‘that’ girl.

When it comes to his boss’ wife? He says she has read my blog. That means he cares what they know, what they have seen and what they think. I don’t.

I gave up allowing people to judge me. I’ve worked on letting go of that for over a year now and I have been doing well.

*UPDATE: it’s been four days since I started this blog and I still can’t describe what I am feeling correctly

I still have no idea how I feel about this. I’m not angry like I was when I heard it. I am not hurt or crying. I am simply trying to determine how and why this strangers comment, overheard by gossip, became such a menace to my thoughts.

And shame. I need to know how I feel about another person’s shame about me when I have fought so hard to overcome shame about myself.