Random Moments of Sadness

I can be going about my daily business, tasks or what have you when all of a sudden it will hit me that OMG my dad’s gone and I’m never going to see him at work in his garage ever again. I am at a total loss at what to do when this happens.

I’ve given in to those feelings many times and been unable to bring myself out of those deep wells of grief-filled emotion. I am a spiritual person by choice and am aware that he is only gone in the physical sense, but at these times I don’t care about that. It bothers and upsets me more that I can’t pick up the phone and call him, or go out to his house and visit and listen to all his wild, adventurous stories ever again.

It doesn’t matter that I can, if I want, to speak aloud to him in my mind or aloud or in my dream and I can then imagine what he might say. But I don’t KNOW what he might say now that he’s somewhere I can’t see him and it isn’t a comfort at all. It just feels empty and doesn’t help in any way.

There are times when I feel very angry that he’s gone. Not that he chose to go because I know he was not all that happy here – but that he wasn’t able to tell anyone how or what he felt and didn’t feel he deserved any help. It makes me very angry that I can’t turn back time and tell him what I’m certain he didn’t know before he made his choice to leave us all behind and go on an unknowable adventure on his own and that no matter what he thought he deserved, he was always loved, admired and respected by many people – some of whom he likely never thought felt that way.


A Rather Unpleasant Walk Down Memory Lane

It’s been a few days now since I wrote my last blog here. There are so many topics I could choose to write about which is why I have never written a blog before. I am passionate about many things – many of which, on the surface have nothing to do with each other – but that’s just the surface.

Had a call from someone earlier this week whom I had hoped to never hear from again. Serious wishful thinking on my part, but, there ya go. My ex, whom I wish to never speak to ever again had left a message on my machine and since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about ‘bad’ relationships. I’ve met a lot of well-meaning people and supportive agencies as a result of my involvement with this individual, but they all have the same thing in common. Not one of them have the slightest clue what the reality of living with someone like that really feels like. Or how no matter how much they promote awareness and air commercials aimed at those who ‘know’ but do nothing, doesn’t change the fact that the average person, when confronted with a situation such as mine was, DO NOT GET INVOLVED.

It’s not an exaggeration, nor is it an angry statement. It is simply that all of these well-meaning people, who have never experienced this kind of relationship first hand, really have no idea what they are talking about. I guess this is my blog about frustration. You can mean well and have the greatest intentions all you want and believe whole-heartedly that if you became aware of an abusive situation you would ‘do the right thing.’ But, speaking from experience, those people are very rare – no one gets involved because no one wants to believe that something like that happens ‘next door.’ It is so much easier to pretend that you misunderstood or mis-interpreted something you heard or saw, than it is to accept that what you see portrayed on tv is real, not fantasy, living next door, not somewhere in a different town, city or province.

Aside from all that, I had the opportunity to visit a local shelter and it was not comforting to know it was there for me in any way. Many think that people stay in situations like mine because they have lost their self-worth or they believe they ‘deserve it,’ or that if they didn’t like it they would ‘do something about it.’ I can’t speak for everyone – since I don’t know anyone’s situation other than my own. But from my experience, the fact that there were so many limits and expectations placed on the individual who desperately needed  a shelter was so degrading and overwhelming that after my initial visit to one I never gave it another thought. And I never once believed I deserved it, there was nothing wrong with my sense of self-worth and I was doing something about it – up until I saw the shelter – at which point I changed my plans to something that would work for me.

Never mind the stress and strain of leaving behind everything familiar and up until this point in your life, what you consider “safe” – you are only allowed to stay in one of these places for a maximum of 28 days. There is mandatory counseling  and mandatory job placement and resume writing. Regardless of what your situation may be, you are required to become employed as soon as possible – there are no considerations for children with special needs and the shelter I saw separated the children from the parents. Not what I considered conducive to healing yourself or your child(ren), in any way. As a result of that experience, I found a better way to change my situation, one that empowered me and did not put me in yet another situation where someone else again had power over the direction my life would take.

If someone were to ask you to give up your home, leave everything behind but the clothes in your suitcase and move in with a bunch of strangers who are just as, or more stressed out than you are, change your life and turn it upside down in hopes that ‘maybe’ things will get better, would you do it?

Cloudy Thinking Makes for Cloudy Writing

Well, I started out yesterday morning with so many topics to write about that I couldn’t settle down and just ‘pick one.’ And then I got majorly side-tracked by being ‘called’ to help someone ‘energetically’ find some balance. Now I find that my muse has abandoned me, but what I think is more likely is that I’m just too tired to pick something to share.
So I’m gonna ‘go with the flow’ and see where my newly recovered writing desire takes me. I’ve no idea where I’m going to go with this, if anywhere, but I will say that I have many topics of which I have an interest in.
Sometimes I may write about my family – most often about my dad, since there are so many stories to tell about him, but also about my interests, abilities and fascination with all things unexplained. Such as intuitive abilities, dreams, pendulums, tarot & oracle cards, mediums, ghosts and all things paranormal and metaphysical ~ just to name a few.

Gotta run now, very hungry. 🙂


Feeling rather lost these days. My dad passed suddenly in late November of last year and was not something expected or anticipated by anyone.
I currently have a free website out in cyber-space but have no interest at present to revive it. I am not inspired to do much of anything since my dad’s passing and am at a loss as to what to do with myself or if I even need to “do” anything. I don’t like feeling like this at all. I know I am depressed, who wouldn’t be? But I also know that it is not the kind that would be considered ‘clinical.’ (Whatever that means.)
I find it very hard to understand or tolerate those who do not understand grief. There is a very strong, prevalent, seemingly unspoken agreement in place ’somewhere’ in society that says you should work through your grief quickly so that you can “get on with things.”
I’d like to ask them “what things??” What could be more important than working through your grief and loss and memories so that you can become somewhat whole once again? You will never be the same person again after the loss of a parent, especially when they have yet to reach the age of retirement. I am rather resentfully discovering it is rather like being born again, but completely lacking the joy of new life & anticipation, or the discovery of learning about the world around you and the relationship with the two most important people who brought you into the world.
I don’t like it at all. But most of all I resent the random bouts of unexpected grief that seem to pop up out of nowhere, ambushing me when I least expect it. Like when I’m cleaning my house, watching tv and a song commercial comes on or I get off the phone from having a good chat with someone and suddenly am overwhelmed with such pain and sadness that it feels as though my heart has been ripped from me – and I never even saw it coming.
I’ve been mulling over telling my dad’s story in my mind for about a week now, but I don’t think I’m ready for that. And just today I thought who cares? Nobody is going to care and I can hear the falsity of my own words, but I don’t want to listen. And I think “Why does it even matter?”
I know it is my turbulent emotional state that is dragging me through the ringer, but there are many moments on an almost daily basis where I just don’t give a damn about anything.
Signing off now. Maybe my mood will be better tomorrow.

I went away for a bit, but wanted to add that I am not naturally inclined to share melancholic, sad, wandering thoughts. But at the same time, I have spent many years studying writing, and practicing and refining my writing skills so that now, I am very aware that some of the greatest writing ever published was from those courageous or in some cases, ‘lost’ souls who bared their hearts for the page.