Beautiful Trauma

The older you get the more you realize that your problems are not worse than anyone else's, just different. My guy always says "First World Problems, Margaux". He didn't exactly grow up here so he gets to say that.

I can't help but wonder though, can two broken people make one whole amazing person if they are together? Because we've all got our demons. I'm throwing the question out there but here's what I think: yes and no. We need to keep working on ourselves. Every day. If it's a bad day, go to bed and start over again tomorrow. Tomorrow is always new with no mistakes in it.

I don't believe though we're meant to go it alone in life. Whether it's a romantic partner, a best friend, a mentor or family, we need someone to be the mirror back to us. Because what we see in the mirror is not always accurate. Unless you're a millenial, it's probably self-defeating sometimes what you see when you look at yourself. (No hate for millenials but they think they are the shit.)

I'm a late bloomer. Took me a long time to realize the type of people I needed around me. I tried to go it alone for a long time because I couldn't figure it out. Then...I found people as perfectly imperfect as I was. Jay is my real mirror, him and my best girlfriends. We're honest with each other, we keep trying to improve and we make each other better. Together? I think we can be amazing and make something beautiful out of the ashes of our pasts. :)

Sullivan out.

The Unwanted Visitor

I can't make any promises about not writing about this again a few times before June. It's my 10 year out of the cult into the real world anniversary coming up. I feel really good these days. My friends say I look great again, not the way I used to, all skinny and sick. I can honestly say I'm happy.

I feel like Margaux 2.0, just ten years older and a bit more weathered. That doesn't mean however that I won't have relapses. I've been through a lot of change this past year. I feel it's helping me grow, but people worry about me when I feel down. My therapist says that once you've been through a major depression it's prone to re-visit.

Sometimes something triggers it, sometimes it's just being tired, sad or frustrated. Sometimes it's because I really miss someone I've lost. I've learned coping skills on how to move ahead when that happens, but that doesn't mean it will stop it from happening once in awhile.

The reason I speak out about it is I feel I'm helping people by breaking the stigma. We could tuck it away in the closet and pretend we're fine all the time but I think that's what makes people crazy. Now my go-to is: Let it out. Cry. Spend a whole day wallowing if you need to. Take a nap. Watch something fun on Netflix. Then wipe your eyes and get up tomorrow knowing it's a new day with no mistakes in it yet. Depression Lies. Tell your unwanted visitor his time is up and he has to leave now.

I've always been a tiny (huge) bit dramatic and that's what us writers and artists are, aren't we? I don't think I'm that dramatic anymore because I feel safe and secure, but I still have those days when I need to focus on self-care. We were going out the other night to watch the Raptors play. On the way there Jay was like "Who's my crazy girl? You are. But you're MY crazy girl". He's right. I can be crazy. I'll go out for a walk and come home with a puppy or a kitten or someone who needs to crash on our couch indefinitely.

At the end of the day, it's refreshing to have someone who loves me not because were in the same cult or they're trying to control what I do, but because they think I deserve to be loved. Who sits with me when I cry sometimes. Who holds my hand through anything and everything and always says "we got this". Who helps me lock the door when my unwanted visitor comes calling. Who shows me I'm so much more than just someone who was raised in a cult, abandoned by most family and friends, who deals with depression every now and then.

This is real love and I know it doesn't happen every day. Whatever you're going through, there are people are out there who will love you regardless. Find your people. You have the power, you just have to believe in that for yourself. The sun is shining again and ps. get a dog :)

If you can't love yourself how the hell are you ever going to love someone else? Can I get an Amen? *RuPaul

Sullivan out.

Weathered

"When I grow old I'll drink and smoke. Like I did when youth stayed."

That was our song. Until I got sick and couldn't really drink anymore. But I'm thinking it's still our song because when (not if) I make it to the part where I'm old, I get to do whatever I want. Shoulda been lights out for me a long time ago. Thanks to him, I'm still here.

I'm way too old to have a boyfriend so let's call him my man-friend. I had a sad day yesterday and I got sad enough to get a new tattoo. It wasn't spur of the moment, I'd thought it out over a year ago but those damn things hurt and I had another hurt I needed to feel less of. So it was the right time.

My arm tattoos are perfectly symmetrical and it always bothered me I only had the anchor on one leg. Like I was off balance. I'm a bit OCD. So I counted the cash in my wallet and figured I could make this work. I had a big picture for a little spot and knew part of it had to be Jay. I found an old card so they could duplicate his handwritting. I think that's pretty romantic.

Asians, right? I'm not racist I love them but they are so uncomfortable with feelings. So he comes home from work and looks at it. He walks away. I'm like, do you like it? He pauses, and then he's like, well its very permanent. No fuck, Sherlock. I'm almost done my MBA, I know what a tattoo is. 

Also, my darling man friend, I know I haven't really been on board. You always have been though. My pets are yours. They probably like you more than they like me. You've saved my life more than once. You call me when I'm in the hospital in the morning to ask what I want to eat that day because you know I'd starve before eating hospital food. I only need to look the right way at something I want and it shows up on my birthday or Christmas. You rub my back and hold my hand when I have panic attacks. You make my life better, my home better, make me laugh and dance in the living room to all our favorite songs. You make me write, which makes me a happier, better version of myself.

I seriously doubt that after all that, you'll ever leave me. If I've decided I'll never leave you either, I know it's scary but that tattoo isn't going away and neither am I. I'm sorry it took me way too long to know we're end-game. I will be loyal and prove it to you. When we're old and weathered this will still be our song. :)

Sullivan out.

Ps Lindsay was like where is Kat in that tattoo? She's dead Lindsay. We gotta move forward. Besides Charlie Rose is a witch kitten who will outlive all of us and probably cast spells if I make her mad.

Fake Plastic Love

I've always been a romantic. Until nine years ago when my life went upside down, then I became a cynic. The little girl who used to hide under trees at her dads place in the country to write stories disappeared. I started writing again after that, but it was angry. What can I say? It's always been my release and the JWs really needed to be exposed. Fortunately, a lot of other people started to think that too and I don't feel like it's my battle anymore.

The funny thing about romance and love - any kind of love: family, friends, boyfriends...it can look like the real thing, feel like the real thing. Doesn't count for anything if it's not. Don't get me wrong, nice gifts, fancy dinners, expensive hotels...all perfectly nice. Having a girlfriend who tells you you're her best friend and feels like you're a sister to her...is nice.

Trying to figure out which people are genuine and the ones who are fake can wear you out. Who is using you and who is just in it because at the end of the day, they really do love you.

I know y'all are tired of hearing about my boyfriend. We are not perfect. We've been in and out, on and off for years. I didn't think he was romantic enough. I didn't think he said "I love you" enough. But the devil is always in the details.

I wasn't allowed to watch soap operas before (another fun JW fact - no soap operas) but somehow between three jobs and doing an MBA I've got myself hooked on a Spanish telenovella. At first I was always rolling my eyes about how dramatic it was but then I realized my life has been pretty damn dramatic too. (Without all the murdering of course.)

Anyways, the girl had to pick between two guys. The rich, suave, probably hits the gym about 16 hours a day guy or the nice guy. I'm always rooting for the nice guy. He's smart, he always says the right thing, he's loyal to a fault. I've been with both kind of guys, many times.

It's Thanksgiving right? I love this holiday. Because it's not about presents (which I also love) or over the top anything, it's just about being grateful for what we have. Jay came home last night with a huge turkey. Things haven't really been going my way and I wasn't planning on cooking all day. I told him all my friends are with their families for Thanksgiving and it was too much. Side point: I don't have a family. He just said well, look across the street. You've got a dozen homeless people in that park. We'll invite everyone and if they're all with their families we'll share what we have with those people who don't have anything. Still wondering why I root for the nice guy?

It's never fake, or plastic or perfect even. But I always know where I stand and whether or not I'm loved for just being me. Fake wears me out. Truth keeps me with a small amount of hope that I'm okay, that everything is okay. That's the way it always ends in the telenovellas, doesn't it? I do my best but I can't be who you want me to be all the time, that's why I left the cult right? :)

Sullivan out.

Adam

Sneak peek. I'm finally writing my book. I decided to call all the chapters by peoples names. You can tell me if that's a good idea, leave a comment. Apparently though you have to have their consent or if not change their names. So Adam is reviewing this one. 

Adam

When I met my ex-husband, I was still in the cult. I thought, this is as good as it gets. I was 16. Even if our marriage was far from perfect, I still think that having grown up the way he did, he was a pretty good person.

Not a good husband.

I married him but I wasn’t in love. On the outside, we were perfect. On the inside I was dying. I’m a romantic. He had every excuse in the book to not come home. Hockey, golf, boy’s nights.

I was at a point in my life where I was questioning the Jehovah’s Witnesses belief system. But of course you can never talk about that, or you will be labelled an apostate and shunned by all family and friends. Which did happen to me. But before that…

I met Adam.

We were work friends for two years. He was someone I could finally talk to about the truth. In my other life, nothing you ever did was good enough. Taking care of all these people, volunteering all your time. Didn’t matter, you just had to work harder. Be better. You are never good enough. Especially if you’re a woman.

Adam loved me just the way I was and with all my imperfections. We could talk about anything for hours. It happened organically and we never officially crossed the cheating line. Except I did because I fell so in love with him that I finally found the strength to give up everything and everyone else for the chance that we’d end up living in a house on the beach and having strawberry blonde children.

Every time I walked into the office my heart would beat faster. Every time I got a message on my phone I hoped it was him. I had never felt that way about anyone. 

Stuart, my ex-boss/ex-boyfriend took me out for drinks one night while this all was happening and he said Mahhhhgaux (he’s British) married men never leave their wives.

Adam is smart. He is handsome. And kind. And as much as I tell myself he never really loved me I think he did. When it was over, I tried to kill myself. After everything I had lost, I couldn’t imagine a life without him in it. Without the beach house and those kids.

Whatever the outcome was, Adam was my BIG love and the catalyst that got me to wake up and get out of the cult. I will always love him for that. I owe him my second life.

With or Without You

I can't live with or without you. - U2

Last night was Nuit Blanche, so like everyone in Toronto, we were wandering around at 4:30 am with my dog looking at bad art. Nuit Blanche used to be cool, before the hipsters ruined it. They are the worst. That's why I stay east end instead of west end now. West end is full of damn hipsters.

So we're talking about love last night. I've been in love enough times. I think my dance card is full. And this is probably the last time for me. But you never know. I've dated a lot. Like a lot a lot. And I can truthfully say I've only been in love five times. That's a pretty good number in 20 years, I've been lucky. I don't know really how love works but I rate that number on how many times I've cried over someone for longer than a day or two.

There was the first love of course. They say the first cut is the deepest and that one hurt. But not the worst. After him came my husband. That one hurt more. Then came the guy I left my husband for. That one was very, very bad. Probably more because of all the things I gave up for him than being about him. After that, came that guy who used to be my boss.

I was talking to my mentor the other day about the current guy and he said he thought it was a good thing. I said, well you thought the last one was a good thing. He just said, I knew you loved him. And I really did. Said mentor and his wife have been together forever. Raised a family, pursued careers, traveled. They still love each other after all that time. Although I envy that, apparently the Universe didn't think that was my path in life.

Back to last night. We're talking about love. And he says that it really doesn't mean that much when someone says "I love you". (Effing psych degree over there.) But I thought about it, and he's right. All the men I've loved have been completely different. I really did love each of them. I said those three words. They were there at different times in my life, when I needed them to guide me somewhere. I don't regret any of it. At the time, I couldn't live without them. He said what would mean more would be if someone said: I can't imagine my life without you.

I can't imagine my life without him. At least not at the moment. Sidepoint: I couldn't love anyone who didn't love my dog as much as he does. 

It's scary to love again after you've done it and been disappointed with the outcome. I've realized there is no "the one" for some of us. There's the one who is supposed to be there in the here and now. The difference with him from all the others is that he loves me just the way I am. I don't have to be anyone I'm not, look a certain way. He's been there for me through countless terrible situations. He just holds my hand and says "we've got this" every time. And somehow it always works out.

The most significant, important love of our life is figuring out how to love ourselves. If you find someone who loves the you that you love, well that's just icing on the cake. Nothing makes me happier than coming home and seeing those stupid boots he wears year round in my entrance way. I can't imagine my life without you JJ. :)

Sullivan out.

In Repair

My conversation with my therapist on Friday:

Ross: You've had a bad month. Maybe you should get rid of your sword.

Me (annoyed): You're the one who told me to get a sword.

Ross: Hmmm. You're right. So how about we just say the sword is your friend?

The sword is my friend. But like all my friends, it has hurt me. One night I had friends over and they were making fun of me and they said, that's not a real sword. So I took it off the wall to prove that it was. It fell out of it's sheath and slashed me. I probably should have gone to the hospital and gotten stitches but Jayjay thinks anything can be cured by putting ice on it. I have a nasty little scar on my wrist and for months people accused me of trying to kill myself again.

Give me a little credit. I already have one failed suicide attempt to my name. I wouldn't be stupid the next time. You don't slash it that way, you do it the other way.

I have realized something though. It's not my friends who make me think about things like that. I wouldn't even be here today without three people. You know who you are. You love me even when I get down, even when I cry. And you celebrate me when I'm on top. You are the best. Like everyone I know who is messed up, my problem is with my mother.

I would like to think if I had been lucky enough to have kids, I would have loved them no matter what. It wouldn't matter to me what religion they chose, whether they were straight or gay, whether they made tons of money or decided to be struggling artists.

We all make choices. My choices have got me to where I am today. Ross says though, that's a good thing. That I need to stop doubting myself and basing my self worth on the people who judge me, And he's right. I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Fuck Linda.

I am in repair. I might never be the "perfect" person I was as a Jdub. And I'm totally okay with that. All you really need is three people to love you, to believe in you. My dad always says you can count the number of real friends you have in your life on one hand. I'm lucky. : )

The hair goes pink again today, just FYI.

Sullivan out.

RIP

Word to the wise: even if Les Mis is one of your favorite books, don't watch the movie on a Sunday if you've had a bad week. Every song just makes you cry.

I would like to thank everyone who has been so kind and supportive to me and my friend Jay after hearing about the passing of our friend a few days ago. My ex used to say if I wanted to make this blog better I could just tell the truth. No sugar coating or waxing poetic.

So this isn't a feel good blog. Sometimes, life just sucks. In some ways, I'm almost envious of my friend. He was in pain, he wanted this life to be over and now it is for him. I've actually heard of three suicides this week, there must be some kind of energy shift in the universe.

I was talking to another friend today who, like me, like my friend, has attempted to kill himself. When I told him about my friend, he was like "good for him". He and I both woke up in hospital rooms in paper diapers hooked up to an IV and our first thought was "Fuck. I'm failing at life and I can't even get this death thing done right."

He and I are both happy with our lives now. But the work it takes to get there? It's hard. It's exhausting. It takes years. And you still live with the sadness. As you know, I decided to disfellowship myself from the Jehovah's Witnesses. I've tried over and over through the past three years. Someone always cried or begged me not to and I would just take it back. Every time.

This time, I got the same messages. Please reconsider. Please be sure that this is really what you want. I had to be more direct. Why do they even want me to stay? I'm a huge apostate. I walk up to people on the street talking to them and warn them it's a dangerous cult and they should keep walking. I've called our their elders as selfish, perverted cowards and bullies. I've told them my husband, also an elder, was abusive. We were together over ten years. He remarried one of my supposed friends in about 5 minutes after he divorced me.

I lost the only man I will ever really love because it took me too long to do this. Yes, it's been seven years and I'm still in love with Adam. Can you say single forever?

This time the elders respected my wishes and made the announcement on Tuesday. I got the email from Walter on Wednesday. He sounded sad and I felt bad for him. He is definitely one of the good ones. I'm sorry to let him down. I'm not sorry I made that decision though.

I might always live with the nightmares. Wake up every morning with panic attacks. At least I'm free. It's actually harder than I thought, killing the JW aspect of my life. It was such a huge part of me for so long. I've found some little bit of peace with this step. I don't know if I'm really helping anyone with this blog. And obviously I can't save my friends, even if I know what they are going through. All we can really do is try our best. I don't know what happens when we die, but I'm hoping George is in a better place. Rest in peace, my friend. I'll get there someday.

Sullivan out.

Big Love

6 years and one day ago, I told Big I loved him. I gave up my entire life for him. I believed him when he said he'd get divorced. I believed him when he said we'd get married and have beautiful strawberry blonde children. 

When I knew I couldn't trust him, I deleted his phone number and wrote it on a sticky note behind the piece of art he gave me. Of course, it was a bird. Y'all know I've been having a hard time lately, but birds always make me feel better. :)

I caved and decided to message him today. I turned the piece around and the note was gone. Where did it go? Seriously. How can it just be gone? I guess the same way he could be gone. No explanation. 

I had lunch with a dear friend yesterday and she said she hoped I would stop being sad and get to the point where I felt angry. And now I do. I feel angry that I was raised in a cult. I feel angry that I was manipulated by a man I actually loved. I feel angry that things didn't work out the way I had hoped they would. 

And I feel grateful that things didn't work out the way I hoped they would. That would have been the biggest tragedy :)

Sullivan out. 

The Gift of Imperfection

My "Big Love" made a lot of promises to me after my life blew up. He used to say we'd get a house on the beach - at one point he was looking at private islands for sale because hell, we didn't need anyone else but us. We'd buy those kitchen counters that were actually just cutting boards because we loved to cook together. He said we would adopt a puppy who was "as perfectly imperfect as we were". Had I known I couldn't trust him I probably would have made different choices. Or would I have? Probably not, I was too in love. Would those different choices have been the right ones either? There's no way of knowing. 

The mistakes I've made along the way have been my mistakes. It was actually pretty liberating to finally be allowed to make mistakes, for the first time in my life having no one to tell me what to do. It was scary, exhausting, stressful. Most of the time I went with my gut. 

As a Jehovah's Witness there are no choices, no freedom, no independent thought. The constant stress of striving to achieve perfection will wear you down, eventually. My good friend and previous mentor, Stuart always said "Perfection is the enemy of the good". Good was never good enough for me in the past, but it is now. 

I think that's why I fell in love with Big, so hard, so fast. In my JW life I always had to be better, work harder, sacrifice more. With him, I was perfectly imperfect and felt completely loved regardless of that. I'd never felt that before - it was the greatest feeling in the world. 

As you know, I got sucker punched by a bout of depression two weeks ago due to yet another family shunning drama episode. If you've ever dealt with depression you know how quickly and strongly it can walk in your door and beat you down again, even if you've been doing great. But now I have a really good bounce back time. I have the tools, the support and the love to as Taylor Swift would say "Shake it off". (Y'all know I love Taylor) :)

Family can be both a blessing and a curse. We know too much about each other, we expect too much from each other, sometimes we try too hard to control each other. 

Some of my family though has always supported my vision of where I wanted to go now, even when I didn't know where that was. They have unselfishly been there for me through thick and thin. Celebrated my accomplishments, held my hand when I cried. Without my aunts, uncles and Grandma down here in Nova Scotia, would I have weathered all these storms over the past five years? 

Maybe. But I wouldn't have come out of each of them feeling stronger, more sure of the decisions I've made, more determined to be more like them. Most importantly, they love imperfect Margaux and do everything they can - not to fix me - not to make me into who they want me to be. But to guide me. To listen to me. To distract me with cute animals, delicious meals and lovely wine. 

Someone asked me on my last blog "where is home?". Home is here with them. Home is in Toronto. Without this home to come to though, the other home wouldn't feel quite so important.

Don't get me wrong, they're not perfect either. NONE OF US ARE!! Imperfection, I truly believe is a gift. It gives us targets, something to aim for, a feeling of accomplishment when we hit them. Kindness, compassion and being committed to always do your best, to help those in need where you can, to show people dignity and respect no matter how far they may have fallen and what mistakes they have made? That is unconditional love. That's the target. 

Within (I want to say minutes but it was probably days) I was coming home - all arrangements made for me by my favorite uncle. And it was the right thing for me. To just say yes, I'll come, pack a suitcase and get the hell out of my most recent personal nightmare. Come home and light some fires, dig out some snowstorms, spend time with the people I need the most right now. 

The thing about nightmares is...we wake up. Then we see the world and the people in it for all the beauty they add to the Universe. I feel very, very grateful, very, very happy. I'm ready to go home (the other home) on Friday and slip back into the extremely happy, successful place I was in not so long ago.  

Thank you a million times to these people who have always been loyal, always been loving and always had my back. It still feels like home to me here and it always will. 

PS - Big: I finally have that perfectly, imperfect puppy. You would have liked him. :)

Sullivan out. 

*Grandma and me*

Just Give Me a Reason

This time of year is funny. People show up who you haven't heard from in forever. I was over at my girlfriend's place the other night and this is how it went:

Her: So are you seeing anyone?

Me: Nope. I am getting those random text messages from guys I dated a few times ages ago who want to reconnect. 

Her: It's just this time of year. I get those too. 

Me: Why don't they ever delete our phone numbers? I don't even know who half of them are. Because I deleted their phone number. 

Guys of the world - make a note. Unless we decide to have a lovely friendship with you, we've deleted your phone number. Please do us a favour and delete ours instead of texting us at Christmas time because you're lonely. :)

Since I'm off work, I've had a little bit of extra time and I finally checked out my sister's wedding website. She's posted a bunch of pictures on there and she looks like she's really happy. Which makes me extremely happy. There is absolutely nothing in the world I want more than my sister's happiness. 

It made me think though. Maybe I should start trying again. Maybe I want to look that way in pictures too. Maybe, just maybe I want to look at someone with that same look in my eyes. I felt like maybe this is the reason I've been looking for - and you just need one reason - to open up, to try again. 

But that's silly. I know some of y'all disagree with me, but I believe in The One. And there's only one "the one". And when we took pictures, we looked like this. And when he held my hand I was the happiest girl on the planet. And when he left me, I didn't believe life was worth living anymore. 

So no, despite all the lovely, documented proof that love exist and flourishes, and as much as I will celebrate that for Erin, it's not for me. There are all sorts of "little loves" that I can enjoy. Without my soulmate. I apologize to all the guys I've dated in the past 5 years. You just didn't stand a chance against the ghost of Him. But...Game of Thrones is back this weekend! That's the current love of my life. :) 

Big Love

Last night I was at the bar downstairs. (Shocking, I know.)

Someone came up to me and said they'd read the magazine article, they'd read my blog. They thought I was a good writer. He just had one question: Is "Eric" the same person as "Big"?

Hell ya. 

I was talking to my girlfriend this morning about soulmates. Now, I know Matthew Hussey is going to have a hissy fit over this but I believe in this concept because, I've been there. And so has she. 

Maybe your soulmate is not the person you're meant to be with, for a variety of reasons. What I think impedes it from working out the most though, is the fact that it's terrifying. To love someone that much? It's the most wonderful and horrible thing you'll ever experience. They have the power to make you smile bigger and feel happier than you ever have and at the same time, rip your heart apart. It's too much for most people to process. 

On one hand, you can say at least I had that once. I got to feel the way I did. I will not die not knowing what it's like. The problem with finding it though is trying to move on afterwards. There are so many different kinds of love out there and they all serve their purpose. I could have stayed on the "safe and easy" path with my husband. He never would have left me, I never would have had to experience being alone. 

If you don't know what you're missing, it's easy to live without it. But it's like going out for a great steak dinner and then going back to your local pub and ordering one there. You were happy with it before the other one blew your mind. Now, it just doesn't satisfy you. 

I've dated some great guys since Big. GREAT guys. But no one who gave me butterflies just by looking at me. No one who I wanted to have kids with. No one who I would have been happy to die in their arms. No one who I ever thought we could just live anywhere or anywhere with just us because we wouldn't need anyone else. No one I could picture sharing a single bed with because that's all the room we'd ever need. 

So this is the opposite of my usual Margaux posts where I'm all girl-power and moving on and creating our own destiny. I still believe in all that stuff, I guess having all my past churned up the past few weeks in such a public way just makes me wish things had turned out differently. 

There's good love, great love, big love. They're all special. You shouldn't turn you back on a big love if it comes along though. That's your one chance. You get one.