"Forget" You

Listen to this while you read me.

Happy long weekend everyone. : )

I love Labour Day weekend. Y'all know I get all sappy at Thanksgiving (I know we get presents at Christmas, but Thanksgiving is the best holiday ever), and I know that no one should be sappy about this long weekend. We should all just thank the Universe that we don't have to go to work. (Well most of us. Sorry JJ.)

I'm strangely excited though about the end of summer. Fall is my favorite season. It's so beautiful and melancholy. (Yup there's that word again.) I have to put away all my wee dresses, but we get to buy new sweaters. Tweed is always "in" and most years come fall, I die my hair red. Days get shorter, nights become crisp and everything dies. (Sorry, if that was morbid. But we're all gonna die people. Fall is the perfect reminder to do all the things you need to do before the leaves turn brown.) Winter is coming. (Yes, I know, I need to lay off the Game of Thrones. And stop italicizing things.)

Then though, we'll see spring and everything starts all over again, almost as if, from the beginning. And as many falls, springs, new years, birthdays I've been through, we could always use yet another fresh start. It might be the week off work or the two sessions with The Doctor, but I've gotta say I feel extremely grateful for life as it is. I think my little writing project has finally helped me find some closure. My Doctor asked me if I was scared that it's coming out and honestly, I'm not. I was, for a long time but not now. Now that I've given the story to someone else, I can talk about it, and it's just a story.

I want to thank everyone who's read me or been part of the the journey I've been on the past couple of years. This blog has been an important, no necessary, part of the healing process and when I started out I remember being so impressed when I had had 2,000 reads on here. Now we're almost at 20,000 and who knows what will happen soon? Jersey Shore says once I hit 50,000 I'm marketable so it doesn't seem that crazy to think that we can get there.

I've had family, both JW and not, who asked me why I had to do this. It inconveniences them I know. They want to know: if I want to be a writer, why can't I just write another story? I wish I could and maybe someday I will. One more Games of Thrones mention and I will stop, but it's fascinating how his imagination came up with all that. Although this will seem cliche coming from a girl from PEI, in Anne of Green Gables, the best advice she ever got was just to write about what she knew. So this might not be my last story, but it's definitely my first one, and the reason why y'all keep reading me.

I've had someone recently post on here, an old friend no doubt who I'm sure cares, why don't I just come back to them if I'm so obviously miserable? I want to make it very, very, very clear, I'm not miserable. The exact opposite actually. I'm overwhelmed with how many wonderful people I can call "family" now. I have trouble figuring out how to spend my weekends trying to fit everyone in who wants to see me. Sometimes, I have relapses and I need to talk about the past. Sometimes I worry about the children of the JWs now and what will happen to them if they buy into that and then become adults and change their minds. I worry about people like me who are constant people pleasers and will face the hardest battle if they ever decide to follow their heart.

Yes, I lost my mom. But I found another one. More than one actually, because here in Toronto I've found mothers and fathers and sisters and even a kid. Whatever happens, this is a success story already. And you can do it too, if you're ever wondering if it's possible to start all over. I have two bunches of fresh flowers from the market and a BBQ to get to. It's the long weekend. Let's have fun. And, THANK YOU : )

Sullivan out.