In My Blood

I'm supposed to be writing a paper for school. Shhhh! Don't tell my boyfriend. :)

How much of my mother has my mother left in me? How much of my love will be insane to some degree? I'm worried about this feeling that I'm never good enough will it wash out in the water or is it always in my blood?

How much of my father am I destined to become? Will I dim the lights inside me just to satisfy someone? Will I let this woman kill me or do away with jealous love? Will it wash out in the water or is it always in my blood?

I can feel the love I want. I can feel the love I need. It's never going to come the way I am. Could I change it if I wanted? Can I rise above the flood?  Does it wash out in the water or is it always in the blood? 

The bloodline, the stars, our past lives, what governs the things that are out of our control? That no matter who we try to be, we repeat the past over and over. They say insanity is doing the same thing over and expecting a different result. Does that mean we are all insane?

My sister had this book displayed in her apartment "All Families are Insane". I think the insane part is no matter how much we work to make our own families, our bloodlines call to us. It's a temptation that is always there. We want to be loved. Accepted. By them. No mater how many people come along who do and will love us- unconditionally - there is always a part of our heart that is absent, missing, not willing to show up to the party and try. Or maybe that's just me. Would I trade one for the other? Not in a million years. That means I'll never 100% get there.

But more than halfway is good enough for me. The rest, the part that will always be in my blood is broken and you can't call a doctor to fix that. Maybe someday it'll wash out in the water. It's Thanksgiving weekend, be kind to your family. :)

Sullivan out.

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.

Murmurations

I know what you're thinking and you're right. I never write anymore.

I'm sure all artists, whether you're a musician or a painter or a writer understand that voice in your head that won't leave you alone or go away until you do what it tells you to. Mine has been a lot of different personalities over the past eight years. Sometimes it's angry. Sometimes it just wants to be an advocate for people who have had their rights stolen. Sometimes, it has fallen in love with the worst possible choice in men ever. Not that most of them weren't decent guys, they were. Just the wrong choices. Then it just went silent. It woke up this morning, maybe because I felt so happy last night.

I could write a whole book on all the bad choices I've made in life. But I went home last weekend. My cousin was getting married and that was beautiful. I haven't had the easiest time with family. But he said something to me about how when someone is going through a hard time, family is always there for you. He wasn't talking about me, he wanted me to pass it on to my brother, but it resonated.

And family isn't just blood. I spent an evening with the girl I was best friends with when I was five years old. We both went though hell and got out of the JWs but we laughed about it all night. And then I came home. Here is as much home as home is. The only reason I had the opportunity to go to PEI was because I have such good friends in Toronto. People I can count on come what may. Y'all know I had a shit year. But it has been a year and it's always a new beginning come fall. :)

One of my best friends and I are going to a witches circle in a couple of weeks. It's so fun not to have rules anymore. I'll probably write a blog about that. She's blogging now too so maybe we can collaborate. It has been a long road. My other cousin told me once maybe I should wait to write a book until I know how it ends. This is how it ends. Happy. Not perfect. Surrounded by love.

I saw a reiki master awhile ago and I didn't tell her anything. I never do. Psychics, reiki, witches, if they are real they'll know about me without me giving them any information. She said my problem was that I had no idea how loved I was. Because honestly, that's what cults do to you. Make you feel guilty and wrong and unloved if you leave. She said she saw a flock of blackbirds flying in formation around me. I was a smartass and said that's called a murmuration. (Thank you to my lovely mentor GBW for teaching me that.) But how did she know I had blackbirds tattooed on my body and everywhere in my apartment and I never would be here today without my flock.

Y'all know who you are. Thank you for making me a better person, for putting up with me through this journey, for loving me in my perfectly imperfect state, for making me happy every day. For being the best family/"family" a girl could ask for.

Sullivan out.

Giving Thanks

Re-post. Yes. I re-post this every Thanksgiving. I think it's one of my better blogs.  It's easy to give in to self pity and judge other people. I got in trouble this week for giving a blanket to a homeless man on my street. My neighbours didn't think it was good for the building. All I saw was a man who was lost and cold.

This thanksgiving, I'll eat turkey. I will be surrounded by people who love me. Let's not forget about the other half. Being thankful for what we have should automatically make us want to share what little or large we have with the less fortunate.

I'm still committed to the life I lead outside of the JW community. It hasn't been easy. But it's been worth it. There are so many people and so many life events that I am so grateful for. I give thanks every day. :)

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving. Being lucky enough to live in Canada and have a job, for most of the people I know, this particular long weekend means turkey dinners, drinking wine, washing dishes, spending time with family and friends. I'm actually trying to fit in three separate Thanksgiving dinners this weekend if you can believe that. Two years ago I would have laughed at the idea that life could come so full circle.

There are so many things we have to be grateful for, not just this weekend, but every day. Family, friends, health, home, money, the list goes on and on. We are very lucky.

But this year the thing I am most grateful for is Freedom. Freedom of choice, freedom of thought, freedom of speech. Things that people have fought for over the centuries, but I never really understood how absolutely necessary these things are to true happiness until recently.

I ran into a friend from a past life yesterday. She still lives the way I used to, being told how to think, what to say, who to be friends with, who she can talk to, who she can date, who she can love. She's not a very happy person.

But, because of how she's conditioned to think, she looked at me with a mixture of pity and condescencion. When she asked how I was, I thought for a second about all the things I wanted to say.

I wanted to tell her that with the barriers that kept me at arms length from my family removed, I have a closer relationship with them that I ever would have. I wanted to tell her that now that I no longer have to go through life secretly judging and trying to change people, people like me so much better. I wanted to tell her I finally have true, loyal friends who I know would never walk away from me just because someone else told them they had to. I wanted to tell her that I don't have to live in fear of that ever happening to me again.

I thought briefly about the fact that I don't have to be eternally single like her, because I can date whoever I want, instead of being forced to choose a romantic partner from a tiny pool of people who are "acceptable" to the group.

Thoughts ran through my head about how much I love my job, my apartment, my friends, my complete freedom to choose to live the life I want to live, not the life someone else is dictating for me. And how much more interesting it is to be able to bring anyone into your life that you want, just based on who they are as a person and not their religious views or lifestyle choices.

I wanted to tell her how strong I felt having been able to make those changes to my life and move on. But she never would have believed me anyway. So I just smiled and said "I'm great". And I am.

With a worried look that showed clearly she thought I was hiding my internal pain and suffering under a brave external smile, and a hug, we walked away from each other.

This Thanksgiving, I feel like the war I've been fighting the past couple of years is finally over. There are still a few battle wounds that will take a little longer to heal, but thank the universe, I am free. :)

"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.