Want & Need

It's safe to say most of the world, of course, not the whole world, got a lot of what they wanted, and a lot of what they didn't want on Christmas Day.

A day of whispered wishes to a man in red with a white beard.  Letters written, documented, to the North Pole.

Parents scattered and frazzled, indebted and in love with making the wishes of their little ones come true.

But who is running around making my wishes come true?

Is that too selfish?  I am running around and I am frazzled and I am indebted to the laws of the world and I am not sure how real my wishes even are.  How valid?

I live as I do daily.  I work.  I love.  I make dinner.  I exercise.  And yet I want more.  And more.

I want more life, more love, more house, more money, more and more.

Is that selfish?

I also want all those altruistic things like health for my family, like care for Great Grandma, teenagers who are good.  My parents to live long and longer.  My brothers to be good and healthy.

I want and I want.

But I also need.

I need to feel.  For so long those feelings were on ice.  Better not to be thawed.  Time to put them back I think.  I want to be a creative.  I want to live in the world as a voice for passion, for love and yet I am afraid. So afraid of what might happen if I put one foot forward and then the next.  Despite failure, despite it all, I have yet to give it my all.  Because if I do I'm afraid the rest of my world will fall apart.

Santa didn't bring me a pink or a red bow.  But I bought myself a necklace today with the letter S.  My letter.  My life.  My S.  For me.

Today my sister-in-law and I went for brunch and we ran into literally the real version of, Barbie's  Ken.  He stood in front of us with his boyfriend/date and he said, "Excuse Me."

The beautiful talk.  The beautiful have manners.  The beautiful have perfect puffed lips, that were not enhanced as far as my untrained eye could tell.  Just natural.  Just there in the world. OMG, this man was gorgeous. So gorgeous. And safe.  Safe to like, safe to love from far, far away.

I need.

I want.

I have a lot to figure out.  As we all do, beings that we are, housed in bodies living life and doing our best to not implode daily.  And somehow we get through and we think, enough is enough.  It is not.

Pay attention to what you need.  My beautiful Ken, I didn't need him, but it was oh so nice to have him mannerly move himself out of the way so that we could get into the tiny quaint restaurant to have our, ever-so-of-the-moment, avocado toast.

I need so much more.  We all do.

Sandra XXOO

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

Twas the night before Christmas Eve Eve and all through my head thoughts of wrapping are stirring.

The real kind, lots to do there.  But also the figurative kind, like you a little bit, Santa.

I haven’t written a letter to Santa in, OMG, who knows how long, but here goes.  I would like my Self Worth back, fully wrapped in a bow and ready to go.

Somewhere along the way I lost most of it or some of it, depending up on the day.  Most times I manage to pin bits and parts back to myself, but they only hold for brief amounts of time, sometimes even years, almost fooling me that it’s back.

And then a really strong gust of wind comes by and whooshes it all away, just like the fluff it was, and I am naked again and naïve and scared in the world.  And so I try and fake it.  Naughty, I know, but what else is a girl to do, I can’t walk around bosoms swinging and bottoms wagging. 

I’m kneeling before you now with a crown full of pleases and thank yous.  The kind I give out on a regular basis and I’m dressed fairly nicely, have a decent job, even an education and I’ve got a really good family.  I look the part.  Please.  The latest self-worth band-aids have come off and in their place I find myself flailing in a sea of tears, un-common sense and fear.

But I do keep trying, but the jig is up.  I can’t keep repeating I am good enough when I don’t feel that way, I can’t keep repeating I am enough when I feel way less than, I can’t keep it up.

But I know, I know, a sliver of me knows, I belong here.  I want the real thing.  I know it exists.  I’ve seen it.  I’ve had fleeting and forever moments where I tasted it, smelled it, wrapped my grubby arms around it and held it tight.

That’s all I want for Christmas. 

P.S. My favourite colours are pink and blue.  So either colour bow will do.

Sandra XXOO

I'm not worth crying over.

An old boyfriend who wasn't worth crying over said this to me once, "Don't cry over me Sandra, I'm not worth it."

I didn't listen.  I cried waterfalls, I chased them, just like that song said not to.  TLC. I was smitten, but not in the right ways.  I was young and young.  I didn't know that you should listen to someone when they tell you who they are the first time.  This is one of Dr. Maya Angelou's life lessons to Oprah.

But could they be hiding behind a screen of insecurity, just like you might be.  You've told many people who you are.

I have.

And, each time, I can't help but let the truth out a little more each time.  I can't hide behind false masks.  Or false promises.  Except when it comes to myself.

But, something drastic happened this week.

Unheard of.

I have forgiven myself for everything.

EVERYTHING.

There is always going to be someone who is prettier. Have you seen Helena Christenen's Instagram feed, OMG. That woman is perfect.  I digress.

And, I will have to forgive myself again tomorrow, until I learn that my tears are not for anyone but me.  If I choose to let them flow.  If I choose to love myself just a little bit more.  I can be there for those I love fully and completely.  That's not the point though, is it?

We carry around so much guilt, insecurity, longing, love, and loathing.  The burden would break anyone with half a brain and yet we walk around with full brains, and we work, we love and we pretend that everything is okay.

I'm here to say that sometimes I'm not okay and I am not going to believe you if you tell me that you are not worth crying over, because I get to do that.  That is my choice.  And the next day I will forgive myself, because maybe that is who you really are, and maybe it's not.

Sandra XXOO

When is it time to say Good-Bye?

When is it time to say good-bye?

After you've been trying to fit in?

Your favourite grocery store ups and ups the prices, and all of  a sudden those walking the aisles around you are different, very different, your friends had called and called you to come with them.  They wanted you to follow them away from this new and fancy place; but they abandoned you once they realized you couldn't hear them.  Their caution. The chaos.  The love.

And now your apartment costs too much and those around you have only curated tears (as in tear apart) in their jeans, and in their shoes.   They know no other way.  But you do and you refuse to leave.

I belong here even though my one dollar has to last a day.

I belong here.

Love.

Chaos.

Caution.

They are in tandem, no one can tell me that love doesn't flirt with chaos and then caution usually puts a big old stop sign in front.  The ones in Texas have red Christmas lights around them.  If anyone can make you stop....

The glittery lights.  They can keep you interested in the notion for a while.  But usually and stupidly we keep on going.

Work can keep you interested for a while, until that very heart of yours, whose job it is really to only pump all the blood, and not feel says, darling we're tired of this rodeo.  We know you wish for bigger and better.  But you've got it good enough.  Wonderful enough and the heart doesn't STOP, and the pain of what could have been fades with each resume written.  You decide enough is enough.

And your soul reaches out from the very depths:  "Darling stop feeling like you're second class.  Stop.  You already have somewhere you belong."

And you leave your enchanted new land, because what you know is way better than what you don't.

You rip your jeans a little to widely and you yell at the full moon that "Enough is Enough.  It's okay, you're back to being you."

The moon winks with eyelashes drawn that day and says, "We'll see my baby, each of you has your own way to love."

Sandra XXOO

Hurt

I am reading a book right now, Son of a Trickster by Eden Robins, and a common line keeps coming up from the mother to the son, "Life is Hard, You've got to be Harder."

A lesson I have yet to learn.  I am all sorts of mush, not the clean kind or the fun kind but the truly deep down and desperate kind where you have to, by the minute dig yourself out of the mental hole you just put yourself in because you know that you are feeding yourself lies.

The lies come from everywhere.  The world is full of them, they float like waiting daggers for any mind that is susceptible to their wares.  They don't even have to sell me too hard on their product:  You are ugly.   You are not good enough.  You are dumb.  They were right you are not smart enough. Your body is not right.  You are not a good mother.   Why did you ever think you could be a writer.

Why are you going down rabbit holes where you don't belong?

It can get pretty crazy especially when any one of those is validated by people or circumstances.  Aha the ego says, see, it's true you are onto something.  You don't belong here.  And it very quickly goes to "You don't belong anywhere."

I felt hurt today by things that ultimately shouldn't matter, I shouldn't care.  I shouldn't. Period.  But I do and I can't help it.  I don't think I'm alone.  The crazy that takes us down one road and up another is just part of the journey sometimes.  Right now I'm in the thick of it and I can't see the trees from the weeds.

I write to feel better.  I napped for four hours.  I hugged my children.  I kissed my husband.  I drank Jaegermeister for the first time and, I liked it.  If nothing else today, I have found out that I like that herbal concoction of alcohol that is mired in the denizens of drunken lore.  Maybe it even felt like a little magic to find something new today and like it.  Not quite so poetic as one would like, I should have rediscovered the smell of the ocean or harped on how the sharp intake of cold in my lungs as the weather dipped below zero felt good and painful at the same time... Also all good.  But Jaegermeister, we are going to have an ongoing relationship from this point forward.

Maybe it will give me the kick I need as Eden Robins writes, "to be harder."  Life is hard.  It is also always going to keep kicking my ass.  I just have to be one step ahead and kick back first.

Sandra XXOO

Waiting

Waiting be gone.

Waiting for so long.

Waiting. For. The. Call. The Job. The Lover. The Everything over and under.

I was a big fan of I Dream of Jeannie when I was a kid.

I wanted to blink and have it all.  No wait. No waiting.

Turns out I'm still learning that lesson.

And I don't like it one little bit.

I don't want to wait.  I want it now.

The difference is, now I have responsibilities and accountabilities to my family.

I can't pretend to be sick all day and lay in bed, winking and hoping that my latest Barbie would appear with a full luggage of clothes, a motor home and Ken.

I already have Ken, and strange, I never thought of it before, but Barbie, where are your kids?

I digress, waiting sucks balls.  That's the most eloquent way I can put it, I apologize if I offend anyone.  But now I have to go make tacos for teenagers who do NOT KNOW how to wait for anything.

I guess this is a RANT, if that's what they call it these days.  Thank you for reading.

I hope and pray you don't have to wait for what you want.

It's not recommended.  It's not at all human, even if they (the world as we know it), wants us to think it is.

Anticipating, that's different.

Anticipating, you know it's on its way, and that's okay!

Anticipate and don't wait.  Choose wisely and it will all work out.

Sandra XXOO

Bleeding Heart

When did your heart first break into a trillion shards?  Have you ever recovered?

I'm not sure I have, I know I've tried to put the pieces back together, sweep some of them under the rug, others have flown far and wide, more than likely, never to be discovered.  I was lost for a long time without even knowing it.  Trying desperately to fit in, but not succeeding, because, like all of us, I am one of a kind.

I've done my research and, for the most part, I fit where I need to, now.  But, once in awhile, a night comes along where hell lets its fangs of fear and demolition free and all bets are off.  I hold on tight.  In a fog, I look for some of the pieces that were lost.  I dig them deep into my skin and I pray that tomorrow is going to be on my side.

And it always is.  The sky brightens, the clouds whiten, the air smells crisp and dewy.

A new day.  One I've never had before, one you've never had before.

The moon tonight was mostly full, the Fraser River held a mist above it's lazy waves.  The park held magic with it's dewy grass calling forth memories of when I was a kid.  And then the light lisp of memory stops, and I'm here and now, in the throes of an episode.  I know it won't be easy.  But I keep driving, I pay attention to the road which is mostly clear and I let the songs coming from my playlist soothe my sautered soul.

I don't remember when it happened, the first break, the big break.  All I know is that the pieces are too far flung and all I can do is my very best to stay healthy.  Write. Exercise. Love.  Repeat.

Maybe you know when the fracture occurred, I have my suspicions but I really don't know.  Was it my first crush in Kindergarten that I met many years later only to find out he was not that into me?  Was it my first crush in grade school, much shorter, blonde and well, that's all I remember about him.  I don't think so.  I think something bigger and better broke my strong heart.

The world.

The world I tried so hard to fit my pieces into, but it kept spitting them out.  This is not you it said, this is not for you, it kept saying. Look again, keep on looking.  But I gave up.  I decided that I couldn't look anymore for that thing, whatever it was that would make it all okay.  I was tired.

Until one day, I met the match.  The match to my bleeding heart.  And I knew that it was okay to be the way I was, that it was just fine to play the way I wanted to play.  That my life mattered.  My joy mattered.  My desire mattered.  Should it be dependent upon just one person?   Probably not.  I imagine my psychiatrist would say that was an unhealthy reliance upon one person.

But for now, and forever, it damn well is.

Sandra XXOO

That little voice in your head.

We all have it.

It's unfiltered and comes through at the most inopportune times.

Squash.

Smash.

We tell our brains, let it die, please, for the love all that is good and orderly.

And then we wake up the next morning, bam, it's still there.

The nine o-clock gun just went off in Vancouver, and tomorrow at noon I'll hear the first bars of O Canada play.  It's comforting to hear, first of all, I know what time of day it is, at least twice out of twenty-four hours, so there's that, and second, I know it will always, always happen.  It is a for sure thing.  I've been living here for ten years, not one day has been missed.  There is comfort and security in that.  There is a sense of order and belonging.  Just like you and me, we will be here tomorrow.

But will we?

I obviously don't want to get into the weeds of what no one wants to talk about, but none of us are here forever.

So, that little voice that tells you to turn left instead of right.

What do you do with it?

What do you think about when that tiny little voice is telling you something you don't want anyone to hear on the  loud speaker of your life?  Like most, like me, you go to your job.  You take care of your kids, you love your husband and you let the balloon of YES go, into the universe.

You say,  go with GOD.  Because I don't know what to do with this.  Because this could ruin me.  But is it all that bad?  A new job?  A new perspective?  A new way of looking at things.

That little voice in your head is telling you something very important:  You've changed.  And that's okay.   It is a good thing, to want more, to love more, to do more of what makes you happy.

That is what the world needs: Love and Love.

Listen to the tiny inklings, let them blossom, let them form and then let life catch up with you.

That's all any of us can hope for.

Sandra XXOO

Primal

I can't remember where I read or heard it, and I'm probably getting it all sorts of wrong by only having my memory as a resource, but here goes:

"A lion never thinks in terms of should."

A lion acts based upon primal instinct.

We make our way home to our husbands and our wives and we love our children.  And we want to make sure they are protected.  In the wild this instinct is understandable; when a lion can take down a giraffe, you best be on the lookout.  In the wilds of our imaginations there are so many feelings to sort through, we can't see the giraffe above the trees because we are too busy lying on the ground, writhing in the pain of worry masked as protection.   Each of us needs each other, maybe when we say we are protecting those we love we are actually protecting ourselves, feeding on our primal fear of being left alone.

But that's not entirely true.  When my children were born, I felt something primal inside of me that would have done anything, and still would, to ensure their safety, comfort and survival.  It was undeniable, I felt it in every pore of my body and, despite, feeling mentally drained, physically spent and utterly like a failure, I got up with them, held their hands while they fell asleep, fed them their favourite foods, and some not so favourite, cleaned their bodies, changed their sheets, and everything else that goes into being a mom.  And a dad.

Humans act on instinct way more than we give ourselves credit for.  Do we really need to ask ourselves why we are late for the twentieth time to the job we don't want to go to?  And yet we can't find our way to the job we were meant for because we are too busy mired in the muck of unhappiness.   A lion knows what he or she wants, there is no should.  A Zebra. A Giraffe. A Buffalo. The females of the pride work together and attack.  They don't always get their prey, but they know what they want and what they need and they go after it.  Sometimes they go hungry.  Every time they are true to themselves.  I'm not suggesting anyone quit their job, what I am suggesting is start finding your Zebra, fill out your pride, you may not always win, but you will find your way back to who you are.

Protection is an instinct.  The eco-systems we've built for our families for our lives, these keep us pushing for security.  Lions protect each other because they are wired that way.    Our desires are important and sometimes not so secure.  But, just as we want our children to flourish and our relationships to flourish, we need to flourish.  We need to dust ourselves off and take ourselves out of the desert and find water that makes us sparkle.  And if a Buffalo runs into our path, we don't need to worry, the lions have got it.

Sandra XXOO

Always.

Always remember who you are from the inside out.

Always be present.

Always smile if you can.

Always be kind, especially to yourself.

Always love.

Always keep on going, life is short enough as it is.

When you've fallen on your face and you can't get up.  Let someone help you.

When you've come to the end of the road, find a new one.

When you are sad cry your eyes dry.

When you can't hold your head up, do it anyway, if even for a millisecond.

When you are lost, don't always try to be found.  The road might be taking you somewhere you've never even thought of, never even seen, never even imagined.

Say what you mean, mean what you say.  Gossip is a suck hole.

Start where you are, one tiny thought at a time. Who knows where you'll end up?

Save your saving for yourself.  Let everyone else go.  Those you love, those you don't.  Freedom is the best teacher.

Stare up at the stars and down at the ground for as long as you need to.

Always be you.

Sandra XXOO

Wanting.

Life is full of things.

Things people say, things people do.

Eat.

Talk.

Write.

And On and On...

What are the things all about?!

I care for only a fraction of them and yet. like today, so much more kept intruding upon the one thing I wanted.

Is it the same for everyone?  Deep down, I believe yes.

We get through the day with one thing in mind:  We are going to watch that show when we get home.  After we pick up, feed, bathe and soothe the babes, we will watch The Bachelor (not me, right now, and absolutely no judgement).  We will meet our love at our favourite restaurant. We will flirt.  We will order pizza and almost sign up for a cleaning service.

What gets me through the day: A surprise chat.  A text.  A good parking spot.

There is nothing like hearing from that person that you are looking forward to hearing from.

There is nothing like watching your favourite show after a long day.

There is nothing like a few glasses of wine to unwind.

There is nothing like waking up the next morning, like a warrior, slaying the day, like only you know how.

But, of course, in between, each of us is racing through the reasons.

Why are we running through this day?

Sleep.

The cute girl at the coffee bar.

That one compliment you've been waiting for from your boss.

It changes, and it's okay, as long as it keeps you wanting, keeps you seeking rather than weakening your resolve to be here, on this earth, here and now.

Sleep tight, dream of the wanting you were meant for.

Sandra XXOO

What if I had just let go?

What if I had let go when the pneumonia was filling up my lungs and cancer took up residence in my body.  I was in pain.  My body was begging me to say good-bye.  The months before this had been full of hospital stays, mouth sores, crutches, and chemotherapy.

One nurse, perhaps in trying to make me feel better, I can only hope that was what she was going for,  said, "You will live with this for the rest of your life.  It will never go away."  My left foot, the cancer foot, does not work the same way as my right foot.  It doesn't bend as far, it doesn't have full feeling in it.  Shoes are always fun to look for.  But damn it, right, I get to wear shoes on both feet.  I kept my leg, I didn't have to amputate.  It was a long road.  But even twenty years later, that foot is doing some funky stuff and I had to go for an MRI recently, the first one in a really long time.

Maybe that's why I keep thinking of that room where I almost died.  Sometimes, and don't call the paramedics, I think it might have been better if I had.  I want to be clear, I want to live.  It's just that sometimes life gets so very hard and the simplest things like my messy house, long commute, noisy office and way too much work become mountains before me, mountains that I can't scale.  Or even get near enough to lay at their feet in hopeful prayer.

And then the cancer survivor inside of me says, I beat fucking cancer, why am I worried about the small stuff.  Here's the little bit of information all those self help books don't tell you, and I have read a lot of them.  The small stuff is where we live.  We sweat it.  We sweat it a lot.  It's learning how to manage it that makes the difference, we can't just turn it off.  But we can choose how to navigate the worm holes ahead.

I'm still learning, and I keep coming back for more.  More life.  I've let things spiral downwards, so low that I felt like I was that patient in that room and the pain was whispering sweetly, you can let go.  But I never will.  I know that, despite the lows, the loves and passions in my life are what keep me here.

This morning the sunrise was glorious, the sky was streaked in pink and orange swirls and the jagged silhouette of the mountains rose up to meet them.  The light blazed over and around, the mountains glittered against the hundreds of headlights of tired commuters heading their way.

The little things can also carry us through, if even for a brief moment, and sometimes that is all we need. I had respite from the swirling thoughts criss-crossing my brain.  For a brief moment the mountain was my friend and I let myself go in it's beauty.

Sandra XXOO

Lost and Divided

I never watched the show Lost, but the premise is apt for how I am feeling right now.  On an airplane with people I don't know very well and gliding into an abyss where I have no choice but to get to know them.

The people are all in my mind, different versions of myself that I am trying to ground to a halt, hide in the Bermuda triangle, become unknown consciously to their wants and needs.

All a little bit mysterious and strange.  Imagine how it feels to be me!

There are things about myself, inside my mind that I would rather stay locked away.  I don't want to visit fake memories, but what about those real and visceral panic attacks.  Where does that shit come from?

I've had a pretty good life, a beautiful Mama and a loving dad, and two pretty awesome kick-ass brothers.  Now I have my own family.

From the outside we are all doing fine.

From the inside, I am writing this now, sleepless, full of thoughts and ideas when I should be getting my rest.  I work at 5am tomorrow morning!

There is always a divide between that which we show the world and that which we carry with us into sleeplessness and the world of scary dreams.  This is true for everyone, or at least almost everyone, so remember when you see that person that seems to have it all together, their hem might be unravelling as you are talking to her about her great outfit and she may berate herself for days after smiling at the VP with spinach in her teeth.

Sandra XXOO

A long long while...

Lies that the world tells us.

I have spent too many years serving thoughts that love my attention, but they are all lies.  The truth is I opened myself up to this stream, the stream of unworthiness  where I sat at the feet of not good enough and looked up hoping for a sign. 

I found Judgement staring down at me with fury and anger but still I cried because I wanted it to change.  I wanted Judgement to hug me tight, love me right.

Judgement never wavered.  He knows who she is.  And now in the game of inches I am starting to crawl out from under the rock that fell, once upon a time,  and told me I had better hide because I was wrong. 

XXOO Sandra