who i am at the tender age of twenty four

someone once told me

you are perfect. never change.

i immediately thought

oh, shit.

for the only constant is change, itself.
we all change.
every day. every experience. every minute.

and, so, i guess it should be noted that i have evolved
and in the grand scheme of things, it is slight.
no ground-breaking changes have taken place
but i have experienced heart break that i have never known, did some yoga poses, had an immaculate cup of coffee, cut my hair, ate lots of kale, read a lot and failed at not one, not two but three gardens.

and, despite their fleeting presence, these phases of time have amounted to something much larger.
they have created stepping stones to new and different places.
and they have propelled me forward even when fear grabbed hold of my heart and told me to stay put.


at twenty four..

i stopped looking for love in all the wrong places.
and i started looking for it within me.
and there it was.
a muscle that needed to be discovered, flexed and defined.
a pulsating presence that is always there.
even if i flail.
it remains.

evidently, at twenty one and twenty two and all the years before,
i was muddled at best. 
and, yet, i could see how easy it was to love me.
i was thirsty and willing to soak myself in pretty well any vile liquid you threw my way.
it was easy to see me as perfect.
i was, in terms of a partner, ideal.
i was naive and supportive and unsure and willing to do anything for praise.

what a giant leap to the woman i became.
i am skeptical and supportive and unsure and willing to do whatever i want to further expand my love of self.
i am stubborn and loving.
i can be moved to tears by pretty well anything.
but i refuse to show it.
i love a good book and a pot of tea.
i cuss often.
i do not like to be watched in the kitchen
but, damn, do i like to cook.
i give myself wholeheartedly to any situation.
i am working on that one.
i am learning to say no.

at twenty four, i have a handle on my sense of self.
i suppose it is more like a finger tip resting ever so gently on the cusp...but, hell...it is closer than ever before.

...to be continued..

own it

a big part of writing your thoughts down
for everyone to read is, well, just that.

they no longer belong to you
but are up for grabs for everyone to interpret.

do i mind? not at all.
do i have moments of sheer insecurity where i wish i hadn't wrote something? yes.
but then it passes.
and i accept that this is my story. and a beautiful one it is.
and if i share it, others may feel compelled to share their own.

and, so..

what is it about time?
it has this gift of clarifying, healing and acknowledging the past.
time, in and of itself, is a gift.

the other month someone i know seemingly fell off the earth
she was nowhere to be found
i suspected she was struggling.
and i was right.
the other day, she submerged.
alive. but just barely.

she had sunk back into a disordered eating pattern that knocked the wind out of her sail.
she did not have to tell me what was going on.
i simply knew.
i knew that story.
i had been there myself.

years ago, i became obsessed.
obsessed with restriction.

how much can i take away?
how many calories, how many pounds, how many sizes...

this time of my life, spanning a couple of months, is murky
i remember the feeling of hunger
right before bed..
the acute desire to eat
but it was after 7 p.m. and that was out of the question.

i remember being tired.
three miles every day.
not one.
not two and a half.
suck it up.
and run three miles every day.

exhaustion.

i remember feeling ribs.
i remember focusing on my thighs.
i remember thinking it was all okay because people thought it was in the name of health.
after all, i was eating well and exercising.
i was healthy.

it was not until i saw a friend i hadn't seen in a while and she asked

are you okay?

i, aloof, replied

yes, of course. why?

and she frowned ever so slightly..

you're just so thin..


that did not stop me.
of course it did not.
it was not until i injured myself.
i was constrained by injury.
and, my god, was it difficult.

the first evening, i had a melt down.
i needed to move.
now.
there was no question.
i needed to move.

cue sirens.
cue raised flags.

it took years to acknowledge the shit storm i found myself in.
it was not an act of health.
it was an act of obsession.
and i just barely made it through unscathed.

and, so

goodbye to weight scales
goodbye to discipline
goodbye to worthlessness
goodbye to size 4
goodbye to self-loathing

hello to freedom.

and, so

when she approached me, looked into my eyes and said

hello.

i knew exactly what that hello really meant.

a home

this blog sprung out of a need to remember things
to record things
to share things

and, so, here it is...while it is still fresh..

it was grungy, at best.
but it was ours.

the kitchen was beautiful in it's own imperfect way.
the floors creaked and cupboards were an odd rusted-black
but i opened them and they were filled with evidence of love

spices, apples and a perfectly stacked row of cookies stood before me.
aye, this is my cupboard.
there was no question about it.

i gave you a cookie.
and with it you walked through the archway, past the vacant dining room and into the living space

a bookshelf lined with books.
that is all i remember.

the bathroom was horrific.
damp carpet lined the floor.
and i knelt down to throw away a speck of garbage that floated
daintily past your grip and sunk between your toes

the room was large and had one king-sized object.

and that was it.
it was brief.
fleeting.
unclear.
but it was ours.
i woke up comforted by nothing and no one and yet everything all at once.

unabashedly

it is okay to feel that ache that signals loss.
to glide my finger tips along that canal of pain.
that metaphorical hole in my anatomical heart.

to try and hold it dearly.
and, sometimes, it is okay to suffocate it the way it suffocates you.
but it may surface. at any given time.
this is the cost of being a human who feels emotions, good and bad.

it may be that time you are folding laundry and suddenly you are sobbing
you are holding two different socks and you are sobbing
and the dog is at your feet immediately and only wants to give you a hug
and this act of kindness from flesh that is not your own is too much in this moment
and you only sob harder.

this is okay.
this is acceptable.
give in and flop to the floor.
the dog will be grateful. he can finally give you that hug and lick all the tears that stream down your face.

or somewhere between lips, hips and hands
you panic for a moment.
a slight moment.
and you instinctively tense your body
as you think

my god. i would have his children. i would do it. proudly.

it is nothing short of frightening to love another entity so much
then he says one word
and that one word is the only word that needed to be said.
and your muscles become putty.
and then, well, emotions pick up where language left off.

i guess that is the trick.
we do not get to pick when these emotions surface.
but we do get to pick to what extent.
so feel them.
unabashedly.

doors

i have been thinking about endings.
and beginnings. and everything in between.

vague.

as most things are these days around here.

somewhere between tangible and abstract, i sit.
thoughts emerge and i observe them. but that is it.

i just observe. quite frankly, i am too exhausted to do much more.

among these thoughts...


i love when people find their passion. that thing...whatever it is...that aligns with their soul and they could not be happier. find that thing. find it.

in all storybooks, they end up together. they always do.

who is the protagonist any way?

i wonder what she would say...

i should leave

i should stay

maybe i should be a housewife

maybe my biological clock is ticking

i wonder how one freezes their eggs..

how old am i?

i wonder if it is still socially acceptable to be this lost when i am thirty?

i should leave.


but i don't. i sit on the cusp of something.
hell if i know what it is.

i pull out my yoga mat and i move.
odd connection, no?

i had a teacher that used to say

ease into the pose slowly...like you are opening a door..just peak in..you do not need to walk all the way in...just peak in...then close that door. visit it another day. and you will get farther in.

that is what i do. i open metaphorical doors. doors that enclose my thoughts but i don't dare venture too far.

there is no need to figure out everything all at once. to open the doors too wide. there is no need.

one day at a time will do.

the becoming

"the useless days will add up to something. the shitty waitressing jobs. the hours writing in your journal.  the long meandering walks. the hours reading poetry and story collections and dead people's diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. these things are your becoming"

- sugar

please let it be true.

practicing happiness

you know those days where everything seems so damn right?

days, moments, fleeting seconds where the universe lines up directly with your desires and you feel perfectly fulfilled?
like you could walk off the curb and step into nonexistence and everything would be perfect as it currently is.
there would be no regrets.
no what ifs.
everything is as it should be.

happiness.

sometimes this fleeting intense happiness rushes over me when i am nearly asleep
and i cannot help but kick my feet sporadically in a little happy dance
because right now...at 10:34 p.m.
things are so damn right.

please tell me you know what i mean...

apparently this feeling is like a muscle.
or so they say.
the more you use it, the more pronounced it gets.

....how absolutely delicious is that?

happiness...although fleeting...can be called upon when you truly need it.

boom.
happy.


i quite like that theory.

grateful and, yet,

a degree.

a piece of paper that claims i know something.
i am sure i do.
but what?

to hell with it.

i refused to go to my conovcation
and i refused to buy a frame and place this paper on my wall.
what for?

it would be an outright lie to say that i didn't work hard
countless sleepless nights
edits after edits after edits
that one break down over the bhagavad gita.

it would be a fib to say i am not proud.
i am.
but i am not sure what this paper really means.
for other peers, this paper is responsible for carving out their paths
for me, it is simply a tree that should have stayed a tree.

it does not define me.
it does not decide what my future will be.

i do.

and while this little paper might have some weight in what potentials rest in my future,
it is nothing without me. it seizes to exist without me.


people approach me with nothing but excitement

you are done now, right?!

yup....i suppose i am.

so, now what?

silence.


between follow your dreams and grow up already,
i rest.
i close my eyes, put my feet up and rest.

i think about four years ago,
running on love and sporadic dreams

let's go.
let's hit the road to mexico, buy a goat and never look back.

and he would say

i'll go anywhere as long as you are there

the dream

i dreamt that i was in her home once again
and everything was as it was before we took it all down
and placed it in boxes
and dispersed it all between the family.

the laughter and chatter that was normally around at family functions filled the room
and i found that special place on the couch.
the one i always liked.

and then there she was.
in a hospital gown.
and she said

oh, those pumpkin cookies. those must be old.

and i thought

i will eat them any way. they are all i have left of you. i will eat every last crumb.

but i said

let me do your dishes

and i walked over to the sink, plunged my hands into the warm water and looked out the window placed just above.
when you looked out of this window, you were able to see the grave yard.
and one tombstone in particular. the one that belongs to her husband, my grandpa.

some things are planned.
perfectly so.



i woke up to tears streaming down my face.
and then i felt his hand on my hip and i knew it was okay.

good actors

when i was little all i really wanted to be was an adult.
they really seemed to have a handle on this thing called life.
they really had it together.
evidently...they were really good actors.

no one warned me that life could be such a soul-sucking menace
on the flip side, of course, life is a beautiful, nourishing entity that i feel honoured to live.
but it is a fine line.
at this stage of life, it is a very very fine line.

at 24, i still feel like a child.
unsure, eager and scared shitless.

i digress.

the fire alarm rang out in my friend's apartment building and within minutes, people lined the streets, holding their prized possessions lest they lose everything they have ever had. for some reason, the image was spectacular. neighbours - but really, more like strangers - standing on the dimly lit street, winter woolies hastily wrapped around necks and mittens stuffed in pockets. people holding that one thing they know they could not live without..
a hard drive
a cat
lip chap
a cell phone

i started to think, what would i take? at 24, what do i have?

nothing.

at 24, i have a degree in an obscure program, a couple skeins of wool, a five year track record as a receptionist, a bin of worms and a couple of books.

full circle.
scared shitless.

as much as i am exhausted of this stage of life...i fear i have nothing substantial to show for it.
i turn up empty-handed.
hopeless.
like i played a very long and intense game and, in the end, the screen went dark and the words
please try again
danced across the screen


days like this, i have to remind myself that it won't always be like this.
there will come a time when i may actually be on steady ground.
if only for a few minutes.
all i can hope is that my path will show itself and soon
because, despite it all, i still believe in it.

it..the calmness that signifies you are right in the place at the right time.

i still do.