Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Most amazing present

So she made me an advent calendar. It's from a plastic parts bin, and it's full of neat stuff, but the point being that she thought of it, planned it out, and put it together. It's perfect!

I'm having trouble with being loved. It's fast. There's some compatibility issues, mostly I'm really afraid of getting my heart smashed into smithereens again.

I guess that means I'm not ready?

Maybe this is something I had better put some more thought into.

I want to be ready. I feel ready. She feels good next to me, dammit, and holding her feels good. I like her family. My mom likes her.

Now I'm in Montreal, I needed this family time, to meld with people, share, relax, calm down and get used to day-to-day interface. Maybe I'll be better next round. I hope so. I hope I get a next round.

Monday, December 06, 2010

Art Class, or cleaning the house, and why I don't have any friends

Today I'm supposed to go to the art room and work on an ar project.  I don't want to.  Last night was a big party at one of the student's houses.  I have bronchitis, and yesterday was brutal, so I didn't feel like going.

I don't want to explain that the program is killing me with the fact that I want to learn and there's very little in it to learn.  There's lots of rote material, but everytime we get to something engaging, they shut things down.

See the gifted blog for more.  lol.  Anyhow, I need to get the house cleaned up, and I need to get a bunch of projects done, and I'm justfeeling like things are overwhelming.

Thursday, December 02, 2010

Whirlwhind

Things are moving fast here, school is busy, life is busy, and I hardly know which way is up anymore.

I am recently sick with some kind of chest infection, it's making it hard to think clearly, so just as my head was clearing from the junk from the accident, I'm back to being fuzzy because of not being able to think

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

The inherencies of being femme

So, I'm seeing someone new.   She's chivalrous, and gallant, and protective, and firm-handed, and so many things that I adore, and that make me weak in the knees.

After she drove for 16 hours to come rescue me when I flipped my car, I found myself needing to wash her clothes, and feed her, and take care of her.  (As well as curl into her, and snuggle under her arm, and hide in her neck).  I know that's my femme-ness coming through, and I know that I would need to do that for her if we were together.

I hate that I got sick.  That I have to pick and choose the things that I can do.  That only some of it is possible.  It's going to be an issue for the rest of my life I think, this back and forth.  Craving the expression of myself, and fighting to be myself, and not being able to do it, and then having to come to terms with my illness(es) over and over again.

*sigh*

I'm saying if... it's only because this is so fast.  It's been seven and a half weeks since she found me, and I'm falling hard.  We've had two dates.  One with a friend of hers, and one when I wrecked my car.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Multi-Lingual

So, I have come to the conclusion that I think in different languages for different things.

I think that my academic language is certainly English, that might not remain true, as my proficiency in Estonian increases once again, but...

My heart language (and again, here's where things just sound better in Estonian) is Estonian.  I can say what I mean about feelings, about thoughts and hopes and dreams, even lacking the complicated vocabulary, and the reclaimed language, and a queer or feminist lexicon, I can explain better what I feel in Estonian, than in English.  In English I am translating in my head.

So, the hours of practice are paying off.  My Emm (Mom) has noticed how much more fluent my Estonian has become, and I notice too.  I'm still without words every (other) sentence, but at least I'm making it through.  Now, t improve my written and reading fluency...  Baby steps.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Crawlspace critter

*** Update ***
It's only a squirrel, and I think that the extermintor managed to blockade it out.  It was pretty peeved with me yesterday, and spent much of the night trying to get back into the crawl.  No dice so far, I'll keep y'all posted.

--------------
Something is living in the crawlspace.  I think it's a rat. I'm less than impressed.  I want to know what it is.   The exterminator came today, and I wasn't home, but I need it dealt with.

I'm worried, I don't want rats.  It's in the floor now.
ew.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

First Snow

There's something about the first snow, how it sits on the trees, and covers the ground, and just makes everthing beautiful, so that when you get up in the morning, everything seems new again.

This is my first snow up here, and it's pretty.

I'd better go buy a snow shovel.

Sunday, November 07, 2010

Following like sheep, and Hiiepäev

Congregation comes from a latin root meaning flock of sheep...

yeah, despite all the "Jesus as the shepherd" stuff, there's the whole, sheep mentality issue.

I just can't get behind a religion.  I'm spiritual. Definitely.  I've been lighting candles for all souls day, inviting the ancestors home.  One night I'll leave food out for them, and then on Dec. 24th, I'll take the candles back to the cemetary, and lead them back "home". 

But I know it's about me making a connection with my roots, and my missing family, and my relatives, and nothing to do with real spirits, or real anything. 

It's the people who believe this stuff that scare me. 

Saturday, November 06, 2010

What's in a name?

I never thought it mattered.  I knew that Estonian was my first language, and that there are certain nuances to thought that only exist for me in it.  I know that it is the language in which I feel most at home, and in which I feel most centered, and, even though I have lost a lot of my vocabulary through disuse, there's a certain sense of home, and comfort, and joy in hearing the familiar lilt of the words, spoken.

What I wasn't prepared for, was the impact of hearing my name, spoken by someone I have a romantic interest in.  Now, my name is fairly similar-sounding, pronounced Anglicized, and in the original Estonian, and you'd have to really listen to hear the difference, but to me, I don't hear my name most of the time, I hear some variation of it.

It wasn't until hearing K say my name on the phone last night, that I felt my insides melt, and my toes curl, and had a moment of thinking that just being able to say my name correctly was a way to really get inside me, to have a direct line to a place right at the heart of me that very few people besides my family ever get to.


 We were joking about names and spellings, and she asked me about hers, and whether I thought it in English, or Estonian in my head, and I said, in Estonian, with an "of course" kind of tone, and then I said it to her.

I could hear her having the same kind of moment, on her end of the phone.  For people who go out into the world and never hear their true names, and who've never heard them spoken on a lover's lips, it's kind of a revelation to hear a love interest call you by your true name, the one you were given as a child, that no one besides family, or Esto community, could ever say, and that got changed by the greater society, for their ease of pronunciation.

Like I said before two strands of my life that have never touched before.  It's interesting.  :)

Sunday, October 31, 2010

So, I went to T.O. for the weekend.  Saw the dentist last minute,  got my shelving from IKEA and had my MRI.


Had a first date, and got vetted by my date's big sister.  Still waiting to hear on that one. :)  They're both Estos and it was lovely to hear my name spoken correctly, and to share two strands of my life that have never crossed before.  I have never met other Esto queers.  I am going to need a new vocabulary - Eesti-Inglise Sõnastik, watch-out! We went for all-you-can-eat Sushi, which was really good.  I don't think I've been that stuffed with tasty raw fish in, well, ever.  Then we went for a bit of a walk, climbed trees, or watched, as the case may be, and ate gellato.  (and espresso in my case, since I was still on my way out to:


Destiny, where I got dressed up as "The Little Match Girl"   since my Fat Femme Crew was going as Fairy Tale characters this year.   With my crutch, my shawl, ragged dress, and the box of matches, plus making puppy dog eyes, and asking "Please, would you like to buy a match?" I was told that the effect was good, and creepy, which was the idea!  So, for no money, things I had, and could borrow, I managed to meet the theme, and still look hot.  Yay me! 

It was lots of fun!  Electronic music, friends, some I haven't seen in years, and dancing...  I've only gone out three times this year, so it was great to get a chance to hang out.

School is keeping me way too busy.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Random thought

I've been reading a lot about OCSD and ASD lately, and I think that I'm pretty definite about having some form of obsessive compulsive spectrum disorder. 

This site is pretty fascinating:
http://theemergencesite.com/Tech/TechIssues-Autism-OCD-Aspergers-ADD.htm

The concept that they're all situated aong a spectrum is neat.  Other people are positing the theory that ASD and OCSD are two versions of the same thing, but that the ASD is a natural phenomenon, and that OCSD is trauma-based.

Something to think about certainly.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Hmm?

There's a second layer to the niceness of people here.  I wonder if they would still be so nice to me if they found out that I am queer?

Last week I was the only one that was wearing a purple shirt, on the anti-homophobia awareness day.  I work in a public school!  I know that it's not such a big deal, but there are less than a dozen racialized students there, and no racialized teachers, and I am the only Black person at all.  I know I pass, but there was a presetation on the history of Jazz, by a band consisting of old white men, who referred to the origins of jazz as being call and answer field music from "the blacks" who came over from Africa.

I brought it up, and was told that it was just how people from that era talked, and it was no big deal.  It is a big deal.  Especially when the kids have no other exposure.

Sigh.

All kinds of trauma is coming up for me.  Right now, what's coming up is all of my fears from being in teachers college last time.  The homophobia of teacher's college, getting thrown out, and almost losing my year at school, and not having my mom.

I did OK, because I had friends, and I was so lucky to have a place to go, and I am a resilient person, and a survivor, but it still felt scary.  I had other relatives, and it was kind of exciting, but, as someone who went from completely being controlled, to being completely abandoned, it was petrifying.

It means such a lot to me to be able to call her up.

I know that things were really bad when I was a kid, but the fact that she loved me and kept me safe this past winter when J left, really repaid that debt exponentially.  I still have to deal with the after effects of my childhood, but the slate between us is clear.  I have to find a way to let her know it.

This winter I needed a Mommy, and I had one.  I know I am so incredibly lucky to get resolution.  We're still ironing out the rough patches, but it makes such a massive amount of difference knowing that I have that love.  I know that she always loved me, but my childhood experience was so inconsistent, and parts so terrifying, that it really wasn't like that.  Parts of it were really great, and I am finding ways to re-connect with those, as a way of re-connecting with my mom.

Being on my own is tough.  I'm the only one here, and I find myself waiting some nights for J to come home before making dinner.  It's not conscious, but like any habit, it's going to take time.

I had to give myself a talking to today about some work that needed doing in my crawlspace.  I needed to get down there, and put in the styrofoam blocks for the winter, and read the water meter, and change some light bulbs, and I had been avoiding it, but I did it finally.

Saturday, October 02, 2010

Why I don’t like Dan Savage’s “It Gets Better” project as a response to bullying

I was bullied.

I am a survivor. I am wholeheartedly glad that I made it through that night, when I attempted suicide 22 years ago, at 15. I think it was worth it.

I also remember what it felt like to be me that night. And all those other nights, and telling me that 22 years later, I'd be OK, wouldn't have helped. I wanted to be OK right then. I wanted someone to tell me that my gay best friend was going to marry me so i could be normal, or that it was OK to look at other girls, or that i wasn't fat and ugly, or that it was OK to feel how i felt, because sometimes the world is a shitty place, and that feeling that is OK too.

I needed not to be alone. I needed to be heard. I needed to be allowed to exist. I needed a voice, and a space.

But things didn't get better in that wonderful, rosy, gorgeous way that they're supposed to.  I didn't finish High School, and move to the "Big City".  I lived in the Big City.  Toronto. Canada's largest. 

I got kicked out of the house in second year university for coming out.  I almost lost a year of school, and eventually dropped out of the B.Ed. program because I couldn't stand being closeted anymore.  This was in 1993 or 1994, so there were no protections yet. 

It took my Mom 10 years to accept me, and now, 17 years later, we are working through some of the issues relating to the abuse from my childhood.  I know that I am lucky, and some people never get any kind of resolution.  It's a lot of work, all the time, and it's a constant, ongoing choice.

I've had, and lost, one very important relationship, and a few shorter ones.
That has been very hard.  Divorce is excruciating, whether you are queer or straight.

We make a mistake telling queer kids lies about their futures.  The only thing that's worth saying is that they matter to us.  Telling them that they are worth something to us.  That they are family.  We are supposed to be a family.  We are supposed to be a community, we are supposed to be the Elders.  C'mon folks, we need to step up here, and be the community we claim to be.

We care. You matter. Life can be hard. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it hurts so badly you don't know if you can keep going. But there are people who care. Come and find us. Please. We will do our best to walk beside you until you do not need us anymore, and then we will walk beside you as a friend.

That's the message.

I had people who stood beside me.  It made all the difference, and I am so grateful.  Every time life has kicked me down, there have been people to come and stand beside me so I can get back on my feet.  I owe them my life.  We need to make sure that we are doing this for each other, and for our youth.

These our our kids.
Driving on country roads to my first meeting of the day, leaving before the sun is up, seeing grey clouds, with rose-tinted edges, wathing the sun light up the birtches. The forests are different here: darkest, deepest green, and bright, fluorescent yellow and orange birches and ash? aspen? It's incredible. The few maples that I see are like little bursts of red and purple fire. It's amazing.

The sky goes on forever, and every day I see things I want to paint.

There are deer in every forest. Sometimes I see them in the middle of town. It's so nice. Even just that connection to nature.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Small city life

There's a lot of advantages to living in a Northern city. There's a lot more plus sized clothes in the second hand stores, for one! People are friendlier, and generally just helpful and nice.

I had forgotten how to relax. I'm calming down, just being here. It's strange. Taking time to see the sky, the moon, the clouds.

The mountain is changing colour. It's turning yellow and orange. It's fall. The trees on the golf course are turning. There's frost in the air.

I'm excited. I love fall. I'm a bit worried about the -40 winter that's coming. I think I need to get a down jacket. (and knit some more hats).

I miss the cats. My lap is cold. Although my carpets dont have little black patches from where they sit, and my clothes are not furry. Still, I miss them.

I miss my family, and my friends. I miss Costco, and IKEA. Other than that, I'm doing OK here. I'm texting people, using the FB, trying to keep in touch. Making some new friends, and trying to be social, which I am not so good at. I will eventually learn to break down my shell. :)

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Courage

I'm coming to the conclusion that courage is a quiet phenomenon. It's not all about going in with the guns blazing. That's bravado, often, and fear, and desperation, and sure, sometimes it's grit, and determination, and self-sacrifice, and bravery, but there's a certain quiet courage to be found in facing pain. 'in deciding to show love instead of rage or hate. In placing others above yourself. In loving yourself even though you don't feel like it all the time. In forgiveness, for yourself, and for others. In trusting people to be decent. In taking the first step. In moving forward. In making decisions based on what you need. In honouring yourself, and in choosing your words with care so that others are not harmed by them.

I'm not doing so great at any of this, but it's something to aspire to. Courage. Self-efficacy. Perseverance. Interdependence. All very scary concepts for someone like me, especially now, on my own, miles from everyone, and having to build a life for myself here. But I'm getting there, slowly.

It's my birthday in two days. Exciting! I can't wait. I'm planning my breakfast. Have an evening out planned, and have lots of assignments due that day, and the next day, so I'm strggling to get them all done now.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

So, I'm moving forward with my life. Slowly, and tentatively, but I'm getting there, and that's what counts.

Took a trip to the new home city, 18 hours away with my cuz. She was saying that it's been hard seeing me this past while, even though she's been happy to support me, because I was always a shit-kicking, take-no-prisoners and forge ahead kind of girl, and this getting sick, and having my relationship with J go to hell just really took the wind out of my sails, and scared me, and I've been different. It was hard to hear, but I think it's true. I used to believe in myself. Some of it was bravado, sure, but some of it was real, and that part really took a beating.

I want to learn to avoid that in the future. Especially in relationships. How do you get aong with people, and make things work, without working at changing each other?

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Unpacking my marriage

Just like I tried to be fair when I was packing up the house, I'm trying to be fair in unpacking the problems of the marriage.

I know that I was unfair, especially at the end. Everyone has a right to a relationship without yelling and raging, and without their spouse throwing things. I couldn't manage that at all.

I also know that everyone has the right to not be lied to, and J lied about money. There was a small claims court judgement against her that I only found out about when we were doing the tax backlog. She also lied about doing the taxes, every year for 10 years, said she would do them, and then did not.

J had a right to be apreciated and respected, and I couldn't always manage that. I would get upset over the lack of communication, and frustrated over not having plans, and no matter how badly I wanted to keep to my resolutions to keep the peace, and not get mad, I'd end up losing it. I couldn't keep things civil.

I had a right to make plans to look forward to. I had a right to be able to talk about problems, and get some kind of resolution, even if that resolution was to agree to disagree, instead of the tacit agreement to disassociate together.

We worked well together. We loved each other as well as we could, and, honestly, it was remarkable when it worked, but it was a dream. Real life is a hell of a lot more painful.

I am lonely. I am remembering that I was lonely when I was with J too, but it was dulled by just having someone else there.

After getting sick, I needed to grieve, and I needed to do that with J. I tried. Clumsily, awkwardly, maybe even harshly and brutally sometimes, but she wasn't having anything to do with that. She had her therapist, and being someone who doesn't share feelings, she wasn't up for doing that with me.

I needed us to aknowledge the loss together. The loss of our future, of our plans, of what felt like everything.

It's taken a lot of work for me to feel like I can build a life for myself again. I would have liked to build it with Jay. I miss her like crazy.

A friend suggested that J couldn't cope with me being sick, and I think that's part of it.

I still feel like such a failure.

Saturday, June 05, 2010

Letter to a friend...

My very dear friend invented a "cover story" for the chunks of our life together that I don't remember because of the strokes and other neurological damage... Whenever they talk about something we did, and I don't remember, they say "and then you were tied to a tree" lol. So, there was the time that we went looking for the maple sugar bush, but it was closed, and I got tied to a tree... becuase I don't remember ANY of it. It makes the biggest difference, because it lightens, and takes the shame and some of the grief out of the fact that I've lost chunks of my history, and chunks of my life.

I'm so sorry to hear about you losing your writing. I can only imagine... I've found a bunch of mine in my computer, but lots of it is brand new to me, because I don't remember writing it. I'm reading it, thinking "hey, this is pretty good". lol.

I'm so incredibly glad to have met you. Thanks for being my friend. :) This stuff is so scary, and so fucking goddamned awful, and it's so hard to explain to people, because just talking about it feels like my heart is going to fall out of me with pain and rage.

My ex told me after a year and a half that I should be "over this", and I should be adjusting to life with this stuff. If it was just lupus, maybe... but it's CENTRAL NERVOUS SYSTEM LUPUS, and I'm still not past the first 5 years, yanno, with the 50% survival rate... Then there's the 2 clotting disorders that caused the strokes, giving the CNS lupus a focal point for the seizures, so epilepsy... Now there's fibromyalgia, so constant pain. Add to that, the pre-existing migraines, the reynauds, which means that my fingers, toes, nose, nipples and lips lose blood flow and turn blue when I get cold, and think we're close to done. Plus, memory loss, cognitive impairment, IQ loss, not being able to scuba dive anymore, or play as hard because of the blood thinners, or do breath play, or, or, or...

So, yeah, I'm OK! Damnit! But, I'm not over it, and I don't know that I'm going to be. I don't know if that's the point. If I get over it, and I accept it, then I think that I have to quit too. Because I'm a kinky girl, and calculated risk is something that I agree to live with. So, I have to do a certain percentage of what I want to do, dangerous or no. And then I have to do a certain percentage of resting, which I am not so good at... Ya.

(you never knew what you were getting into when you offered to let me rant did you...lol.)

Thanks sweetheart.

again, much love and light to you. the deep dark places feel a little less scary today, and that's all you. :)

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Naming the behemoth

I got a beautiful car. A pathfinder. It's a kind of sparkly olive/khaki green. The green is a big deal since while I was with J we weren't allowed to own a green car because it was "unlucky". In any event, it's wondrous.

I've been debating names for it: toad, green machine, behemoth...

At the moment, I'm stuck between "the tank" and "olivia". It all depends on how I decide to assign gender to it, the debate for which stems from having recently re-read "The Dyke's Bike Repair Handbook" which has been waiting in my library for 15 years, and recently found it's true home in the hands of a new friend.

I'm realizing that I spend a lot of time afraid.

Monday, May 03, 2010

Woo!

I got a leather jacket yesterday.

Sunday, May 02, 2010

Going away

I accepted an offer to go to school 18 hours away from here. Wow!

Sustaining beliefs

As an atheist, I often wonder, what is the sustaining belief that is left to me?

Higher power? No.

Basic goodness of humankind? No.

Love? Yes.

So, that's the answer. I spent yesterday in the company of friends. It was wonderful. Shared my ice cream cone with the most delightful almost-three-year-old. Listened to music. Went out to dinner. It was magical.

Love.
I wonder if it is going to be enough to get me through this.

Friday, April 23, 2010

A Letter to my ex.

I've been so busy, that there isn't time to ponder this, except in moments here and there, and the answers are as painful as they are illuminating.

I believe I loved you, and that I did the best I could. I believe that you loved me, and that you did the best you could.

I am sorry that I was too ashamed of the contents of my heart to show it to you. I am sorry that I couldn't let you be. I am sorry that I never understood that feelings simply are, and do not need anything more than to be accepted, and felt. I am sorry for searching for meaning in triviality, and not in life. I am sorry for leaning on you, and then blaming you for not being enough.

I am sorry that we didn't have a relationship based on taking care of ourselves, and caring for each other.

There's lots to be sorry for, but I really couldn't do anything other than what I was doing at the time, and I am working on my own healing, just as fast as I can.

I'd like to say that I wish you would be waiting for me on the other side of this journey, and I really hope you will. 15 years is not a minor chunk of life, and I'm not sorry to have spent it with you. You're a fantastic wonderful person, and I commend you for your courage, and your strength, and your determination, not only to survive, but to succeed, and to thrive.

Breakups are awful. This one is exceedingly painful. My heart aches almost constantly, over things done and not done, love not spoken, and too many harsh words that I wish I had left unsaid.