Thief

“Thief

I don’t want to understand this horror
There’s a weight in your eyes I can’t admit 
Everybody ends up here in bottles 
But the name tags are the last thing you wanted 
As the world explodes you fall out of it 
And you can’t let go because this 
Will not go away

There’s a house built out in space
And I can’t see the thief that lives inside of your head 
But I can be some courage at the side of your bed 
And I don’t know what’s happening and I can’t pretend 
But I can be all, be all

Someone help us understand who ordered 
This disgusting arrangement of time and the end 
I don’t want to hear who walked on water 
Cause the hallways are empty, clocks tick 
As the world implodes we fall in to it 
And we can’t go home because this 
Will not go away

There’s a house built out in space
And I can’t see the thief that lives inside your head 
But I can be some courage at the side of your bed 
And I don’t know what’s happening and I can’t pretend 
It’s a long, long get away, it’s a long, long get away 
Make it home again, make it home again 

It’s a long, long get away, it’s a long, long get away

And I can’t see the thief that lives inside your head 
But I can be some courage at the side of your bed 
And I don’t know what’s happening and I can’t pretend 
But I can be all, be all I’m here 
But I can be all, be all I’m here 
It’s a long, long get away”

Songwriters: Arnold Lanni / Michael Maida

Death is a thief; we are all it’s takings.

Death does not care if you are rich.
Death does not care how popular you are
Death does not care how young or old you are
Death does not care how loved or hated you are
Death does not care for pain or peace
Death does not care about the colour of your flesh
Death does not care about what gods or goddesses you worship
Death does not care how much you fight it or not
Death does not care

Death is. Nothing more, nothing less
Death comes for all, no matter the shape, size species or form.
Death is.

I, and many others I know, have suffered too many losses in the last few years. It seems to be one hit after another, old, young, healthy, disease filled, awful or angelic. We lost them all.

I’ve always loved this song. I know it was written for a young girl with a brain tumor. From Wikipedia – “Vocalist Raine Maida has stated that the song was written about a young Kitchener girl that he knew named Mina Kim who had an inoperable tumor in her brain. The “thief” mentioned in the song refers to the tumor. The short clip at the end of the song consisting of a young girl singing a Sunday school song is a real audio clip of Mina Kim singing “Little By Little” with Maida‘s wife Chantal Kreviazuk and band member Jeremy Taggart.”

To me, that Thief can represent so many things – illnesses, heartbreak, loss, emotional trauma.

Just remember you are never alone, even when you feel you are.

Our Lady Peace – Thief
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Unpretty

“I wish could tie you up in my shoes
Make you feel unpretty too
I was told I was beautiful
But what does that mean to you
Look into the mirror who’s inside there
The one with the long hair
Same old me again today (yeah)

My outsides look cool
My insides are blue
Every time I think I’m through
It’s because of you
I’ve tried different ways
But it’s all the same
At the end of the day
I have myself to blame
I’m just trippin’

You can buy your hair if it won’t grow
You can fix your nose if he says so
You can buy all the make up that M.A.C. can make
But if you can’t look inside you
Find out who am I too
Be in the position to make me feel so
Damn unpretty
(Yeah) I’ll make you feel unpretty too

Never insecure until I met you
Now I’m bein’ stupid
I used to be so cute to me
Just a little bit skinny
Why do I look to all these things
To keep you happy
Maybe get rid of you and then I’ll get back to me (hey)

My outsides look cool
My insides are blue
Every time I think I’m through
It’s because of you
I’ve tried different ways but it’s all the same
At the end of the day I have myself to blame
Believe I’m just trippin’ yeah

You can buy your hair if it won’t grow
You can fix your nose if he says so
You can buy all the make up that M.A.C. can make
But if you can’t look inside you
Find out who am I too
Be in the position to make me feel so
Damn unpretty
I’ll make you feel unpretty too

I’ll make you feel unpretty

You can buy your hair if it won’t grow
You can fix your nose if he says so
You can buy all the make up that M.A.C. can make
But if you can’t look inside you
Find out who am I too
Be in the position to make me feel so
Damn unpretty

You can buy your hair if it won’t grow
You can buy all the make up that M.A.C. can make”

-Writer/s: Francine Vicki Golde, Dennis Lambert, Dallas L. Austin, Duane S. Hitchings, Tionne Tenese Watkins. Publisher: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group

It’s funny how so much external and internal ‘junk’ can make us feel. I’ve always had low self-esteem. Why did I quote the whole song? Because, after all this time, it still rings true.

I’m always telling my friends that I have a laundry list of plastic surgery I would get if I could afford to. Liposuction, tummy tuck, butt lift, breasts reduction/lift (actually, that one is more medical since I have arthritis in my back), arm and thigh tucks, get that damn turkey neck gone. Yes, that really is my list. Oh, and electrolysis so I can permanent get rid of the hair I hate.

I can in all honestly say that I don’t like myself – probably detest myself. Everyone says that in order to really love, you need to love yourself first. If that were true, I would never love anything – but it’s not. I love my children. I love my husband. I love my family, my pets, my friends. I just don’t love myself and I really can’t see how I could.

Is that sad? I don’t think so – I think it’s realistic. I’m not one who resorts to such types realism often but in this case, it is a must. My MS has in a way made it worse. My inability to lose weight, to focus, to sleep well. My inability to even go for a decent walk without needing to rest for days afterwards. My inability to do things others take for granted – it all impacts my self-image. I full and well know it is an image of my creation. No one can see me the way I do. It’s been formulated over 44 years of horrid self-talk, bullying, verbal, mental and other forms of abuse.

Have I sought therapy? Yes, many times over. I’m tired of the platitudes that truly do nothing for me. I’ve tried all the exercises, I’ve tried journalling, I’ve tried meditation, I’ve quite literally tried it all. The biggest issue – if you can’t focus all of those things are for naught.

I love this song. To me, the other person in the song is just me on the inside. It’s two sides of the same coin – feeling like you look amazing only to have those inner voices tell you how much shit you are and that you are only fooling yourself. I’m sure it was written about a person who is thinking a significant other who is abusive; but to me it’s about self-abuse, self-denigration.

I’ve stopped wearing make-up, it takes too long. I’ve stopped trying to look stylish – I feel like I look like an old bat even trying. My social life is limited and I prefer hiding in my cave (home). I try to force myself out, but I always feel like my family is embarrassed to be with me in public even when logically I know they aren’t. I never wanted to be that fat mom. I never wanted to be that stupid person. More and more that’s exactly how I feel. My friends used to tease me over my jokes as I often thought the funny ones involved puns and large words and double entendres. Now, I’m lucky if I can remember how to spell, let alone get the jokes I used to love.

I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling unpretty. I’m tired of feeling stupid. I’m tired of never being enough. I’m just tired.

TLC – Unpretty

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Free Bird

“If you look for perfection, you’ll never be content.” ― Leo TolstoyAnna Karenina

“Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.” ― Anne Frank

It’s been a while since I posted, I know. So much has been going on, so much happening.

I have three children.

My eldest was to graduate this year, she isn’t – and that is totally ok. She wasn’t ready, she definitely needed another year. No one is perfect. I love her unconditionally – she has to do what she has to do. She’s had a rough few years emotionally, mentally, and socially. She’s got this.

My middle child is in grade 10 (well, just finished). His challenges have expanded exponentially this year. We found out for sure that his birth mother drank while pregnant…a lot. This was that final key that fit the lock of who he is. Gawd I love my son. Gawd my son drains me so much. I’m not going to describe it all. It’s not fair to him to do so. Needless to say, No one is perfect. I love my son unconditionally, but I am exhausted. We all are.

My youngest child has yet to begin school. He’s four and won’t turn five until January. This means, in my area, that he won’t begin kindergarten until 2019. That’s fine with me. Children need to be able to be children. A few months back, my intrepid explorer of a son decided that climbing on his dresser was a great, fun idea. He slipped. He broke his right forearm – the ulna straight through, the tibia in several smaller cracks causing it to bow (it was horrid to see, my poor boy). It has healed wonderfully, but he is now scared of heights. It doesn’t stop him. It hasn’t slowed him down. Our family doctor said to us one day last year – don’t be surprised if he has ADHD as well (the older two do). All I could think was – no kidding! No one is perfect. I love my son unconditionally just the way he is. He has a lot to learn and I know he has got this!

I adopted a parrotlet. Kalypso (she has her own insta if you want to check her out @kalypsotheparrotlet) is sweet, tame, and so so so spoiled LOL! Just look at her! She was born February 5th, 2018 – so she just turned four months old ❤ I got her after losing one of my budgies, Lemondrop (RIP my sweet baby). I wanted a parrot species that would live longer, was heartier, and tame. Kalypso is all that and more. She makes me so happy.

Kalypso

Such a pretty baby ❤

I know this post seems random. I’m tired. I’m trying to dig myself out of a hole. It’s slowly working. Depression is a wicked attacker. I’m finally starting to win…this time.

What I really want to stand out from this – no one is perfect. Stop fighting to be perfect – fight to be happy, fight to feel amazing – but not perfect! Perfection is an illusion perpetuated by false perceptions of the world around us. Flawed, happy people are the best – they know what real happiness is. Love you for you.

Lynyrd Skynyrd – Free Bird

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Into the Ocean

“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.” ― André Gide

Hi, my name is Gwen and I am addicted to my aquariums.

Oh myyyy…

I was afraid to get back into this hobby. The more I researched, the more intimidating it was. It is no where near like it was back in the 1980’s – back then you put a fish in a tank, no filter, no heat – just plucked them in and did a full change of water when it was bad enough. I cringe so much writing, and reading, those words.

Step by step, through trial and error, I have grown live plants in all three aquariums. All three have LED lights; the largest having the atypical tube light. All three have happy inhabitants that have come to expect food by a certain time and the largest aquarium even shows signs of wee fry.

I love watching the fish swim around and interact. I’ve persisted through the problems that have cropped up. I do lose an occasional fish now and then, but the population I have now is quite stable.

I enjoy cleaning the aquariums, seeing results from my efforts of care. I get a sense of purpose and joy from it. These beautiful creatures, born into a market that uses them as disposable, are now in my care. I will do everything I can to love and protect them for their natural lives. I do the same for all the creatures in my home. My budgies have more than what is required, my bearded dragon as well. My cats and my dog – all of them, receive the best care I can give them, and sometimes more.

If I can make the effort for all these beautiful creatures, why is it so hard to do the same for myself?

Well, I’ve again dipped my feet into a new ocean and am losing sight of the shore I once clung to. I’ve finally taken a leap I had always wanted to, but was afraid, no, anxious to do. I’ve become vegan. This is huge for me both mentally and physically.

My health has not been very well. My doctor actually recommended I go vegan in an effort to help. I’m overweight. I have depression and anxiety. I could go on. I started my animal free eating more than a week ago – not long, but enough to feel a difference. In this short span of time I can already sense a difference! Mentally, I feel sharper and more ‘awake’. Physically, I feel less tired – my MS fatigue has always been horrible, but this last bit it’s not as bad. I’m still tired, but it’s not as intense. I’m not really sure if I can explain it well.

I know veganism is not for everyone. I would never enforce my dietary needs/wants on another, but I am so glad I finally did this. I’m not sure what I was waiting for.

Here I go, tending to myself finally. Here I go, swimming away from the shore of what I was towards who I really want to be.

In the meantime, my aquariums will always call to me…

Blue October – Into The Ocean

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Something To Believe In

“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” ― Dr. Seuss

I’m pretty sure I’ve used that quote before, but it fits this post to a “T”. It’s a post created through raw emotion and memories that have faded.

This beautiful young girl was my best friend.

Pam

Pamela Gail Bischoff – October 3, 1976 – April 12, 1991

27 years ago yesterday (I couldn’t write this yesterday), she was ripped from our lives by a selfish sociopath. I won’t write his name here. I was going to. I was going to call him out and let the world know that HE gets to live, get married (he is), and go on.

Pam was 14 years old. She had called me before going out that night to tell me about her new stockings her mom had bought her. Her mom had to travel over an hour away to get them. They were special to go with her grade 9 prom dress. Back then, junior high was grades 7 to 9.

Her dress was black from the mid hip up, and with a gorgeous purple skirting. She was so excited. I can still remember the sound of her voice when I think of that phone call. She hung up saying she would talk to me later. She hung out with a group she normally didn’t. She never called me again…

You would think after 27 years that the pain of loss would lessen. Granted, it’s not as intense as it used to be, but I’m still sitting here crying.

Pam was intense, vivacious, confident. When she walked into a room, you knew it because she was the life of the party. She got me to hitchhike (something I had never done before), she made me step out of my comfort zone in so many ways. She was magnetic. Even though I was the oldest (I was 17 when she died), I never felt like it – she was mature beyond her years. She was rebellious. She loved her parents deeply. As much as she fought with her older sister, she loved her deeply too.

I still remember spending the night and her knocking on her bedroom wall, calling to her mom (it was morning), “Mom, can you bring me some orange juice?” Of course, her mom did. Pam knew her mom would. Her parents would have done anything for her. Her loss was too much on them all.

Everything Pam did was done with intensity and passion. We were crazy kids. We did things we shouldn’t, we were carefree, we loved life. There was 4 of us in our group of best friends. Pam, me, Gena and Rhonda. We were joined at the hips and that was that. We made nicknames for each other. Pam was Pam Pam. I was Gwembles. It’s awful, but I can’t remember what Gena and Rhonda’s were (though I’m sure they’ll remind we).

The other three of us still live. We have families, we’ve had marriages, two of us divorced, one remarried (me lol). We are still best friends.

This time of year, I often wonder how Pam would have turned out as an adult. I have no doubt that we would still be friends. But how much different would our lives had been with her in it?

We’ll never know.

Poison was her favourite band. I think she would have been devastated to know they split up. C.C. DeVille was her favourite member. She had a large poster on her ceiling over top of her bed.

This song was played at her memorial service. Even know I have a hard time listening to it.

Poison – Something To Believe In

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