Red pill/ Blue pill

Fall. What a season.

Autumn makes me nostalgic. It makes me miss faces I haven't seen in years and old familiar places. It makes me nest like an animal going into hibernation. Fall is a season to get your affairs in order before winter sets in and its time to buckle down through the parkas and the almost frostbitten toes.

I am getting my affairs in order, folks. 

Here's a little story;

When I was 16 I was diagnosed with acute Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This basically runs the gamut as far as "symptoms" are concerned; depression, anxiety, self harm, suicide attempts, eating disorder, flashbacks and dissasociation. I had them all. I was in need of serious help and so I was placed in a mental health facility for youth for a long time. I don't remember exactly, but it was almost 10 months I believe. Before that, I had spent a month in an adult ward at a different hospital waiting to be transferred. So in total it was about a year. This all happened in the fall.

I was on medication already for depression and the doctors spent that year figuring out the perfect cocktail to at least keep me stable. I hated it. I hated the institution and the doctors telling me that I needed to talk. I didn't want to talk, not to them at least. I had never talked to anyone about anything except for my best friend K. I was utterly beligerent and defiant as a teenager who certainly didn't trust anyone. I had good reason not to trust anyone.

When I left there, I stayed on my meds and did good for a little while. Then I fell harder into drugs and drinking. That had always been my fix, my cure. As far as I was concerned, the doctors and shrinks and social workers and counsellors could go to hell. I was going to do things my way, period.

Somehow, I think I stayed on my meds though. I kept taking them.

And then I sobered up. I got clean and two years after I decided that I had more tools to deal with life and came off all the medication.

Its been four years since then. I have mostly fought the overwhelming highs and lows to keep my life somewhat manageable. I have convinced myself that I am fine, that whatever happens I can deal with it. I have been adament, even through bitter lows and really bad decisions while I am on "ups", about never going back on medication. It's one of the accomplishments I am most proud of, to be free of these little pills that the doctors told me I might always need to take.

And then my bubble burst last week. I had a moment of clarity and I was able to be honest with myself for the first time in a long time. I am not ok and my emotions are far from manageable. They haven't been in a long time. I have extreme mood swings. I can have a great day, be in a great mood (which is always more "ecstatic" and "excitable" than just a good mood) and then crash so hard that I want to go back to doing drugs and drinking just to escape this cycle. I do impulsive things. Sometimes dangerous, impulsive things. My compulsions when I am happy have led me to things which I don't recognize. I don't recognize my own behaviour, because they are things I wouldn't and don't want to do. But yet I do them, over and over and over.

So I went to a doctor and told her my history, told her what is happening now. I feel weak, scared, and ashamed. I know that these things are not my fault. I know that I need to surrender and admit my powerlessness over my mental health issues, at least as far as "managing" it on my own. I can't do this alone anymore. So I went back on medication and I'm feeling only the side effects. It takes a few weeks for these things to balance out. I hope it will. I'm so tired of this cycle, of this tornado of emotions I am constantly in. I want to have a relationship, I want to maintain consistent friendships, I want to not cry at work or feel so excited that my skin is crawling with anxious energy. I want to be able to to rest normally, instead of swinging back and forth between insomnia and sleeping 14 hrs a night.

I know its going to take more than medication. I know they're not magic pills. I've been refered to a psychiatrist for re-evaluation, since the last one was over 10 years ago. I'm looking into therapy and counselling. I feel like I am going down another mental health services rabbit hole.

Except this time I'm willing to talk. And willingness just might be the key.

All Work and No Play- Summer's Almost Over

A thought just occured to me as I'm sitting on my bed writing, recording, and rehearsing new poems in cut off shorts and a bathing suit top- summer is almost over!

I was shopping on Saturday and the thought of winter boots and a new coat occured to me. I am going to be needing this things soon. No more leaving the house in a tank top and not bringing a sweater. It's getting damn cold at night now, and layers are a must if I'm not coming home to change. Also, its getting dark around 8:30pm instead of 10pm.

May I just take a moment to say: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Oh hell no. It feels like summer just started. How is it already the end of August?! I mean, its not like I have to go back to school and have the dreadfull feeling of classrooms and textbooks ahead. I pretty much sit in an office from nine to five all year round (yes, I know you're all thinking about how exciting and glamorous my life sounds right now). But there's just something so nostalgic about summer. It signifies alot of skin, parties, festivals and opportunities to go skinny dipping with that person you've had a crush on all winter long. Problem is, I feel like I didn't really take full advantage of the season this year. Probably because I have to wake up at 7am every morning and the thought of being out past 10pm makes me wanna vomit tired chunks of last nights optimism. I know that if I stay out late, tomorrow will be terrible. Its sacrificing an entire day where I feel less than human for a night that could possibly be epic.

Ya'll, I think I'm getting old because I started choosing having good, alert, human days instead of partying all night. This is definitely a sign that I am on a downhill slope to retirement homes and dinner at 4pm in front of a 20 year old episode of Wheel Of Fortune, right? I am not pleased by this.

As hard as I try though, the party just doesn't look that great to me anymore. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I don't drink and I don't do drugs (and no- I don't smoke weed, despite what my appearance may lead you to believe) so the bars aren't all that appealing.

And sure, I dance. I absolutely love to dance and I've got some damn fine moves if I don't say so myself. But you can't really dance in a crowded bar, or in a pub.

And yes, there are a TON of awesome shows and bands that I would give my left nipple (I'm rather fond of the right one) to go see. But they're expensive, and let's face it- nine to five job or not, I'm broke. I can't sacrifice a week's worth of food anymore to go see a show. Five years ago I wouldn't have hesitated but not anymore.

Maybe I'm becoming responsible. Which by the way is basically the word adults use to mean boring and safe. But I'm not going to lie, it kind of feels good. In a "I take care of myself and my loved ones" kind of way. That comes with a certain kind of pride that I'm not willing to trade for a killer show or a sleazy hook up (also, hook ups are just boring and generally underwhelming in comparison to actually knowing someone and sleeping with them).

So that sums up my thoughts tonight. I'm boring, winter is coming, and I have a hell of alot of work to do in preparation for CFSW in October. Oh, and once I figure out how to how to make a video poem from pictures, I'm going to upload a new recording of a brand new poem! Yay new poems!

Here's a link to the YouTube Channel, since Blogger is being a douche and won't let me put it straight on this post. By the way, my channel is emmannward. Follow me!

Don't get too depressed about the incoming chill. I'm sure we have a few good weeks left, at the very least. Play safe.

Tomorrow Means Another Year Has Passed

Guess what?! Tomorrow is my birthday. Which means that another year has passed.

I dont know about you guys, but every year on the date of my birth I mentally jump up and down and silently yell "I survived another year!". In retrospect, that sounds kinda weird. But I do it because hell, that's an accomplishment in itself. When I was younger I did not think I would live past maybe twenty-three or twenty-four, and I'm well passed that now.

It's also a little time to reflect. What was I doing this time last year? How has this year changed me for better or worse?

And this year was a doozy. 

Last year on this day I had just arrived in Quebec four days earlier and I was heading down to the city from my family's place up in St.Hippolyte to celebrate and start my life in Montreal. I went to a Short Shorts party with the person who had alot of influence in my cross country move and whom believed I was in love with at the time (that didn't work out so well). I was grieving my grandmother, who died a week before I made it home. I was ecstatic, excited, terrified, overwhelmed and already homesick for Victoria.

And I only knew two people in this city. 

When I came here I didn't have much of a plan. I had no job lined up, an apartment to sublet for one month but otherwise no permanent living situation and very very little money. I just knew I wanted to come here and hoped for the best.

It did not start off well. That person I was dating ended things two weeks after I got here (shortly after attending my grandmother's funeral with me). I got a job in a diaper factory/ warehouse that only paid $10/hour and I got a crappy apartment that smelled terrible and whose only view was of a dirty white wall. It got no sunlight at all and I knew I had to live there at least for the duration of winter. But in the tiny window between arriving and when the snow started falling I managed to make some connections, a handful of awesome people that I was comfortable with. I am ever so grateful for that, at least.

Oh and then winter came.

Cold as balls-slush and snow-dark at 4pm-horribly lonely winter. It is a terrible season to be living alone in a new city with a broken heart making minimum wage. But again, those people I met and continued to meet were like a buoy in the middle of the ocean during a storm. There were Thanksgiving potlucks, ugly sweater parties, orphan Christmas dinners, and lots of good talks over Vietnamese Pho. And then in the thick of January's frost bite, my eldest brother died of cancer and my friend overdosed. There was alot of death this winter. A trip to Calgary and back. Alot of processing and mixed emotions, and more loneliness than you can shake a stick at.

Slowly but surely though, the light came. I got a new job, albeit telemarketing but still with much better pay. A better paycheck takes a bit of weight off your shoulders, at least on grocery day when you've finally got more than $20 with which to feed yourself for two weeks. Relief! I moved apartments to what I would call my ideal Montreal apartment. It gets sunshine! I wake up with it beaming on my face and can sit on one of two balconies (either facing the street to people watch or over looking my landlords beautiful backyard garden and Koi pond) to drink my morning coffee!

I've made more friends and connections and I know my way around now too. Last night my friend and I were at a show in middle-of-butt-fuck-nowhere and I got us back to a metro without looking at my GPS! Hell yeah! I'm a Montrealer now!

And most recently, I got work as a full time writer. I can't even describe to you the awe of this. No more phone sales! No more crappy retail! I actually get to use whatever talent I have and work in a creative environment. Holy-crap-hello-thing-I-never-thought-possible.

So that's the recap. I'm another year older, and even though it doesn't feel like it some days- I hope I'm a year wiser. I know that people are what is important, travelling through the days with other human beings and the connections we make with each other are what will save my ass everytime. Being a loving, caring person and offering solace to others. Lending an ear, an hour, or a kind smile in passing.

I learned that we're not here for very long and its the impact we make as we go that will always be remembered. I am so, so grateful to have had so many beautiful souls put in my path this year (you know who you are). Here's to another year and whatever may come.

Now, let's eat cake! xo.

We All Want What We Can't Have

Foreword; I wrote this post a couple of weeks ago but I didn't publish it until right now. Things have gotten a little better and I feel like I can breathe a little easier today. Still, everything I wrote holds true...

So I've been very neglectful. I didn't realize it had been so long until I looked here on Sunday. This blog is really just a symptom of my life- chaotic but somewhat organized, busy and forgetful and filled with uncertain purpose that changes on a daily basis. And yes, lately alot of things in my world have been neglected.

I've had a houseguest, and there's another one coming tomorrow morning (which I am incredibly excited about holyshitluckyiscomingtomontreal!!), I've been stressing about Slam Team responsibilities and my job is sucking the life out of me. *(since the writing of this post I have gotten a new position at work- as a writer! I start on Monday and I'm very excited)

Plus, I kind of went off the deep end a little while ago.

I seem to be falling apart alot lately. Which is ok. I give myself permission (sometimes) to do this, and I think it's important. I need to acknowledge that I don't have everything together all of the time, and the expectation that I should is completely unrealistic. Noone has it all together. I hope I never do because hell, I'd probably get bored. And I do! I get bored when things are good and I create chaos because that's my natural habitat. Give me a good crisis and I'll thrive. Your partner leave you, your house burnt down and you lost your job? No problem, lets get fixin'. Got hit by a car and can't leave your house because you're bed bound in a full body cast? Easy! I'll make a schedule of everyone we know to take care of you 24/7. I really truly thought crisis management might be a good career for me at one point. But it would probably take 20 or 30 years off my life in the end. Living in that perpetual high and taking care of everyone is just too much of a drug for me. So I seem to create these things in my own life.

I texted a good friend who has known me a very long time a few days ago to ask her simply; "have I always been a trainwreck?" She didn't respond for awhile. Her answer? "You've had a rough go at life, give yourself a break."

The truth is that lately I can't seem to help but make messes everywhere I go. I am a bulldozer. Or you know, a small child who screams for what they want and then gets it but quickly loses interest.

Isn't it interesting that in a time of instant gratification and endless access to information that nothing seems to last? Everything is fleeting, we read something and then instantly forget it. Children are being diagnosed with ADD because we are blaming them for the constant distractions that we ourselves created. There are no constants, at least in my life. A good example is a home, the place you grew up. Some people can point to that place and say "this is where I am from, this is my home". But alot of us didn't grow up like that. I have no compass from which to say which direction is due north, morally or socially.

So I'm always learning to navigate my inner world as well as my outer world. There are alot of things I am not capable of and I'm learning those limitations. There are others that I hope to be someday capable of but I have alot of work to do to get there.

And there are just some things that make me sad, that hurt my heart. Actions that I've taken and regrets I have. I know they say "no regrets" and "what's done is done" but I'm human and I feel remorse. I also feel shame, guilt and so many other things. I give myself permission to feel these things and then choose to change. To do better, to learn and seek guidance. I'll never figure it all out, and I'm certain of that. But maybe I can live one day without this weight on my chest.

Here's a poem I wrote awhile ago about feeling disconnected from body, heart, and mind.

Her Father's Daughter

She knows he only says he misses her

Because it’s what you’re supposed to say

She know that it doesn’t mean a thing.

These days

She prays for the willingness to care

what’s going on in his world

But like the blue moon she missed

The last time it came around

This, too, eludes her.

There is nothing but tiny strands of DNA

And a potential blood donor status

Between them.

This is not a Father’s Day greeting card

There is no mug

No tool set.

There is only the clicking sound

Of another calendar year passing

And the freckles that remind her

What bitterness tastes like  

These days

She prays that she is not her father’s daughter

With shaking hands

And a computer screen

At two a.m

In the basement

Trying to stay quiet

When her body has become a war crime

She committed against herself

And all her skin can see

Are the strange body parts

Of unknown men

Stained across the sheets

Still, she feels nothing.

Her mechanism for love has failed.

Sex as sport and leisure

Is not sustainable

When you cease to feel connection

With the sweat on an anonymous eyebrow

Or the person who tells you they love you.

Because still, you feel

That it means nothing

When they say

I miss you.

Burn It All Down

Holy crap...

You know the longer I'm alive, the less I'm convinced I know. Seriously you guys, I don't know anything about anything.

Have you ever been so sure about something, about the way you feel or what you want that it seems like fact and nothing could ever change it. You can go for months, even years this way. And then one day... poof! It changes. You see things in a different light, you taste something you used to love but don't anymore or you tie your left shoe up first instead of your right and it changes everything.

Or it can be slow, one day you wake up and you're just a little bit uncertain. And then it grows inside you and you can't shake this feeling that something just isn't right.

Well, I am questioning everything right now. I guess it's a good thing, but its unnerving to say the least. I'm even questioning if I want to be a poet. I haven't written anything (other than this blog) in months, I have no energy or motivation and I haven't even attempted it. I'm completely apathetic towards the only thing that has been a constant my entire life. I always wrote poetry and journalled. Its my thing ya'll. So this leads me to the big question that plagues most of us... what in the hell do I do with my life?

I'm not going to get all crazy on you. This question has the power to induce panic attacks. I'm just talking even the most basic of things. Let's say... relationships. For so long I've been saying how much I want a relationship, how I just want a partner to share my life with (and eventually have babies- yes I said it, I'm that girl). And now I'm not so sure. I mean, maybe I just can't handle it at this point in my life. Maybe I have too many unresolved issues and I haven't yet learned how to compromise well enough. But one of my most recent revelations has been a shocking one.

I am an introvert. I never knew. I always thought I was an incredibly social person who needed and loved to be around tons of people all the time. But in the last few years I've turned more and more inward. I need alone time to recharge and a whole lot of it. Otherwise I start getting all cranky and uncomfortable, I can't sort through my thoughts or check in with what I'm thinking. My brain gets scrambled and I don't like sharing my space very much. This can turn into resentment verrrrry quickly. And I'm starting to think it may make any kind of long term involvment impossible.

So yeah. remember that happy relationship train I was on when spring had just arrived and everyone was giddy about not wearing snow suits? I jumped off of it, and I'm sad. I just wasn't sure anymore. I promised myself a long time ago that I would spare both myself and future partners prolonged pain and not continue a relationship if I had any doubts. So, I ended it and I feel like I've lost a really amazing friend in the process. We may be able to be friends at some point, but right now there's a giant empty space in my life.

I know we're all just figuring this is 'life' thing out. I guess sometimes you gotta burn it all down to find what's right for you. I'm just wondering how many more times I'm going to light the match, and what I'm going to find when the smoke clears.

Here's a poem from Buddy Wakefield called In Landscape. It always seems like he has the words when I don't.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1Z6ukukO_k

Eat all the ice cream!

Oh hey there folks,

*Disclaimer; this blog post has nothing to do with poetry, my romantic life, my job or anything related to it. It is a completely random thought that jumped into my head earlier this evening and I felt the compulsion to share it with all of you. So... please enjoy my neurotic rant.


I have very, very exciting news. I think I may have finally figured it all out. And by all, I mean to say that I think I solved the conundrum of what makes Montreal such an appealing city.

I know, I know. Most of you are thinking; 'Well obviously its the arts and culture'.

What a boring answer! It couldn't be just that. How about the universities? The history? The cute french women dressed in polka dots riding bicycles with straw baskets on the front? (I am not stereotyping, I have seen it with my own eyes too many times to count).

I mean seriously, this place is a magnet for young people. I barely know anyone who hasn't at some point in their twentys lived here or thought 'I should move there". If Vancouver/Victoria is the Florida style retirement capital of this country, then Montreal is the sexy french version of Portlandia. So I got to thinking tonight on my bike ride home (Kody is finally fixed!) what is it about this place? I mean, if you're an anglophone who doesn't speak the dominant language and job opportunities for you are scarce at best, than what the hell is the huge attraction? Just look at me, I work at a call centre right now along with %70 of the rest of the young english population. Which is, by the way, something I said I wouldn't do when I first moved here. But eating ramen noodles out of used plastic tupperware and crying yourself to sleep in a freezing cold apartment every night gets old after awhile. So you make sacrifices to live in a place that seems magical for no apparent reason.

And then I got home, all sweaty and adrenaline filled from dodging cars, pedestrians and children everywhere (omgsummerreallyishere) and it suddenly hit me. I need an ice cream cone.

This has become a fairly unhealthy habit, amplified by the fact that I live on a street with two amazing ice cream shops. As if that's not bad enough, one of them is located directly across from my front door. It's trendy, has a terrace with cute little pink chairs and serves gourmet ice cream. Now, this is not my favourite place. I've always loved the downtrodden, somewhat simple and cheap kinds of establishments with yellowed walls and wobbly chairs. I also have an obsession with greasy truck stops and real old school diners (the kind that never has more than two people in it, is open 24hrs and serves the worst coffee possible), but that's an entirely different rant. So my place is about three blocks away, and my usual is a chocolate soft serve dipped into more chocolate. OMNOMNOMNOM soooooo good.

So on my way home eating my messy cone of heaven, it hit me. The dairy! The cheeses, the milk, the yogurt- the ice cream! That's not just Montreal- its Quebec. I mean, this place invented (I have no solid proof but I'm almost certain) cheese curds that people eat like chips. And why wouldn't you?! They're so damn good. This also explains poutine. It's not about the gravy, its all about the cheese. They put it with everything! I pity anyone who is lactose intolerant and lives in this province, because it is the mecca of all things dairy.

So there it is. The magic isn't about the circuses, the artsy loft parties or the festivals, its about the cow product. Just my humble opinion, but if I haven't mentioned it yet than I am saying it now; I freaking love this place. 

Oh! Oh! Spring!

So, something amazing happened the other night. A small, simple moment that blew my mind. I was walking to the metro from my friend's house and as I passed a green space I smelled fresh, clean air. New grass! The tree's are starting to produce leaves, it's been raining for a couple weeks and the warm air smells like the pores of the earth are opening up and offering new oxygen. Not to sound like a total hippy, but I can already smell incense and hear the drums of the Tam Tam and holy crap are my feet are itching to be free from shoes. Its finaaaally here! Yipee!

There is seriously nothing better than springtime. 

And let's be honest, ya'll are so freaking good looking that once the skin starts showing everyone goes a little um, "crazy". I swear, the whole city is vibrating with the sound of layers and layers of winter coats peeling off. Everyone I know is hooking up, new relationships are starting all over the place and the winter romances are breaking up.

This brings to mind the expression "Fall in, Spring out". It applies to so many things, but mostly short term relationships. The panic of September when all the single people face another cold winter huddled alone with their respective pets aching for a warm body to press against, so we find each other and hunker down. Once spring comes everyone gets their baby makin' faces on and those relationships quickly dissolve. Call me what you will, but I've observed this time and time again (*Disclaimer; I am not saying that I have done this or that anyone knowingly does this, I'm merely noting that we hibernate for eight months of the year and tend not to want to do this alone).

We're only human, afterall. 

Now, there have been some major changes in my life recently, many of which I've already filled you in on and so I won't go over it all again. But let's just say that my mind is spinning a little. Last week I posted probably the cheesiest, most unabashedly giddy Facebook update of my entire online life. This is because it feels like everything I hoped for all winter long is happening or has happened in these last few weeks. I not only got on the Montreal Slam Team, but I freaking won Finals night and am the new Montreal Slam Champion. How did that happen?! I've only half-heartedly slammed this season as competetion is less and less appealing to me, but here I am. I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty happy about it. CFSW in Saskatoon, here I come! So thats one thing.

...And in the neverending debate on how much of my private life to keep private and how much to divulge here, let's just say I'm one of those people on the new relationship train. Except it's a friend of mine, someone who is very dear to me and whom I've had a crush on since oh, I don't know, December. The only thing that keeps going through my head is "holy crap this is actually happening, I'm not daydreaming this anymore this is real". The shock will eventually wear off, but for now I'm stunned and happy and baffled all at once. And it doesn't feel like every other flimsy two month relationship I've been in for the last four years. It feels more like the beginning of something much deeper and sustainable in the long run, like the start of a new partnership. All I know is that I have never felt this kind of balance between level headedness and complete elation before. I have no doubt that I want to be with this person and that is something very, very new to me. Remember the poem I wrote in my post "Double Down" back in March? Yeah... same person, and I'm still all in.

On a final note for today, my butt hurts from riding my bike, my tattoo is healing pretty well and Spring means that Daisy is shedding like the dickens and everything I own is covered in cat hair.

I hope your first few real days of spring are jammed full with all the things only fresh air and sunshine can bring. Or you know, at least the start of summer calluses from your new flip flops. Those painful little things mark 3 more months of heat coming our way!  

Now, if only there was a beach nearby... 

Here's a little something to make your spring fever worse, I wrote it last year about a whirlwind romance I found myself in;

We are not a love poem.

We are a poem about fingers tracing patterns of lust

Into wide open backs

We are memories of teeth tasting necks

Of goose bumps along breasts

Of days spent drunk on naked skin.

We are unwritten songs discovered between shaking thighs

We are the fearless desire of familiar strangers

We are a new rhythm to an old dance

We both thought we knew so well

When your hands collided with my hips

And we shook from the fury

Of those first unexpected nights

I had been as dusty as a hardcover library book

You were a rain’s first kiss on hot cement

And we fed each other like coal for a hungry steam train

There were no stop signs

No hesitation marks on our hearts

Just the brush strokes of cheekbones

Writing the calligraphy of wanting on our bodies

And when I discovered the cadence of your pulse

Hidden in the attic of your shoulder blades

You found the resilience of my soul

In the waterfall of my spine

And we stayed there

as if time couldn’t exist

In this gallery of lust we’d created

But it did

And time did find us

Curled around each other whispering

No no not yet,

No we are not a love poem

Not yet.