Tomorrow, on December 28th, at 1:30 pm EST, I am taking my 13 year old schnoodle Tsuki to the vet for the final time.
In case you didn’t know, Ricky Martin has an old Christmas song where the premise is he forgot it was Christmas and he doesn’t have a gift for his girlfriend.
Pretty innocent so far, right? Wrong!
This notorious shaker of bon bons has been featured on this blog twice before.
So what exactly is the problem?
So, earlier this fall, I had the honour and privilege to attend a showing of “The Phantom of the Opera” at the National Arts Center (NAC) in Ottawa. I was super excited about this. And I tried to keep in mind the positive aspects that came with that night. Taking the good with the bad, one would say.
The tickets were a little expensive… But it’s so rare that Phantom is in town, so totally worth it.
My original date cancelled and I was unable to find someone willing to buy the extra ticket… But my 11 year old niece was happy to attend. (Even if she didn’t repay me the ticket, oops)
I was black and blue as a result of an e-bike crash that week… But I was finally out of bed and able to walk again.
Overall, it promised to be an exciting adventure, and I was really looking forward to seeing my favourite musical live on stage.
Me niece looked absolutely adorable and precious. I had drinks and snacks. We were OUT ON THE TOWN!!!
In the past two years I’ve fallen in love with my hair. I’ll post pictures and videos of my bouncing curls. I’ll apologize to my friends for maybe appearing shallow but to please indulge me. But it hasn’t always been this way. In the past I regarded my hair as a nuisance. Something that needed taming; kept small.
Monday was an interesting brain day. Earlier in the weekend, I discovered that my Vyvanse, aka my ADHD pills, were out of refills. I had previously asked the pharmacist to fax my doctor to get the next one, however, due to a miscommunication it wasn’t done. I was stuck on Sunday not having any. Vyvanse is an amphetamine, which means I proceeded to go into Amphetamine withdrawal of sort, as well as experiencing a bit of an upswing in ADHD symptoms.
I finally managed to get my pill earlier on Monday, but it takes a while for the effects to really kick in. I was driving back from the pharmacy (I made sure to go when I was most awake, and it’s only a few blocks from my home), when I once again noticed a place I had been curious about for some time.
This old restaurant was converted recently into an indoor knife throwing place.
I’ve long had an interest in edged weapons. I’m a fan of swords, daggers, knives, and the fantasy worlds they inhabit in literature and the imagination. I’ve written characters who are proficient at throwing knives, and often wondered exactly what it would be like.
Here was an opportunity to learn, an opportunity to get a feel for how to write it, and a chance to do something fun.
For the last few months, I’ve only been posting my posts and guest posts to my Patreon account. I’ve also been trying to work with both of our new blog members to create their own Patreon accounts; however due to all three of us dealing with issues of spoons and too much to do, we’ve been delayed somewhat in our ability to create the necessary content for their pages.
All three of us struggle with poverty issues related to disability – issues which can make it difficult to write and can make depression worse. Additionally, even if the Patreons were set up, it can take months to build up donations. For all of us, the situation is near desperate. The social programs we rely on are not enough to live on since it doesn’t cover enough for us to be able to have housing and internet at the same time, and you can forget about replacing clothing that is falling apart, buying a winter coat, or even in some months, having groceries.
My heart feels scarred. I’m numb; it should hurt but all I feel is an empty feeling where the pain should be
My heart feels heavy but it doesn’t hurt like I think it should, and it’s heavy because it’s tired. I’m tired of being abused. I don’t really believe anybody does anything to deserve abuse but then I have to wonder what have I done? Why me?
Continue reading “A Broken Vase”
CN: Mentions of death, suicidal ideation,
Think of someone you once knew.
A co-worker. A friend. A family member. Someone you loved. Someone you knew intimately.
Remember the details. The colour of their hair. The tilt of their head as they turned to smile at you. The sparkles of laughter in their eyes.
Close your eyes, and feel their arms around you. The arms of someone who cared. Who held you in your darkest hours. Who protected you, catching you even before you knew you were falling.
Remember how much you loved them. Try to remember the spark of hope you felt when you were with them. Feel within you how loved they made you feel.
And then bring yourself back to reality.
Return to the sad, grim, fact, that they are gone from your life. And no-one can tell you why. Because years ago, they vanished into thin air. Never to be seen again. And there are no answers to be found.
They are just… Gone. And no-one knows why, and no-one can say where. And no-one is looking. The trail has gone cold, and there are no clues left.
Again, bring your heart to remember the feeling that they brought to you. Focus on it. Own it. Hold on to that feeling.
This will be important. Because it is the only way that you will be able to see them long enough to find the answers. Continue reading “Guest Post: Disembodied”