Mental Health

Chapter 2…Going home

Going to the hockey game with my dad was a highlight. Watching the Toronto Maple Leafs live at age 8, what a memory. The players looked so much bigger than on TV when we watched the games at home. Every time hockey night in Canada plays that iconic song I go right back to childhood and watching the games with dad or falling asleep to that song when they had later games.

My dad had a new girlfriend when I moved in with him. The last one he told me he broke up with because she made me eat green beans every time I went to spend the weekend with him and she knew I didn’t like them. I remember that conversation. I remember feeling so special and protected. His new girlfriend was so nice. She was so pretty and fun. We lived in the same house that my parents bought together, so I was back in my bedroom and had my playroom again. We took pictures together with Bonnie our dog, each one having a turn, pictures of me and dad and ones with me and his girlfriend. My dad asked why I wasn’t smiling. I said because I was told to not show my teeth. He looked at me with a sad expression and said not to listen to them and to smile big, you’re so pretty he said. From that day on I smiled with all my teeth showing, not afraid of what anyone thought and I was happy because my dad was praising me instead of hurting me, making me feel sad or making me feel bad.

I finished off grade 4 at a new school, school number 5, when I moved back home. But once I was half way through the 5th year, the school and my father decided the best route was to have me put back in grade 4. My mom being Catholic, had me enrolled in Catholic School, going to church every Sunday and Sunday school for me for the 8 years I was with her. I am grateful for having God be present in my life, I certainly needed him going forward. My father being Protestant, I had to go to a public school. A whole other school system and learning system so that was their reasoning why I had to be put back in the 4th grade. I’m sure I was nervous and anxious about first, starting another new school then having to be put in a new class half way through the year. Thank goodness school is not run that way any longer.

My dad was having a hard time with me at the babysitters. I was being very aggressive and misbehaving. Not listening and acting out. My grade 4 report card said if I couldn’t get my point across verbally, I would get it across physically. It was a family joke for years. What I was doing was what I had learned and what I watched and how I was punished. I watched and learned that, this is how you communicate, through yelling and hitting.

I was getting better though, I stopped sucking my thumb at 9 years old. I was so excited. I ran to my dad’s room and told him. He was so proud of me. My sleep walking however wasn’t going away. I didn’t leave the house anymore like I did when my mom lived there, so that was a good thing. My mom had put a lock on the outside of my bedroom door so I couldn’t get out. I would walk all the way to the corner store. That was where my bus stop was so I imagine I was dreaming of having to go to school. The sleepwalking, latching on to my thumb for security, as well as the night terrors eventually stopped. I was feeling safe. I was happy and building a good relationship with my dad and his girlfriend. I was also very happy to be back with Bonnie. My ultimate protector. I knew nothing could happen to me if Bonnie was there.

School however was a challenge for me. I was a slow learner and had difficulties. I can still visualize my dad sitting with me at the table helping me with math and using fruit to assist us. He was very patient with me. He taught me how to clean, with after school chores, he taught me how to ice skate at the park on a pond that froze over. It was just a short walk. We’d gather our skates and walk and talk along the way. He taught me so much. I loved being with him. He was my best friend.

Mental Health

Something everyone should know

That is a hard question. I googled the phrase and this is what I found, life skills, and self care, blah blah blah. What should we know? We should know right from wrong. We should know politeness and respect. Respect is very lacking in this world today as well as authority. We should know race means just a different colour or religion. Not hatred. We should know alcohol and drugs is a mental illness not something people want to continue to do. Some of us just can’t get out, but we really want to. We should know kindness. We should know that sometimes peoples reactions to you on a certain day may have nothing to do with you but something happening in their life at the moment. So ask if they are okay, or is something wrong, or just smile and walk away and say a prayer for them.

People are people and some things we know they don’t. Some things are harder for people than others.

No matter what, everyone should know to respect, be kind and live with integrity, compassion and dignity. Help one another and live a life of love.

Mental Health

My 3 Genie wishes

You have three magic genie wishes, what are you asking for?

My 1st wish would be, one that I always pray for is winning the lottery so, we could give our kids a home to raise their families in. My children have surpassed my age when I became a homeowner. It’s so difficult for young people to own their own home.

My 2nd wish would  be to take away all the drugs, hard drugs that are killing our youth.

My 3rd wish would be for my other 2 wishes to come true.

Mental Health

Describe a family member.

She has blond hair and brown eyes that are so sweet and angelic. She loves being with the family but so enjoys her little friends when they visit. She is an early riser and goes to bed with ease. Swimming is her favorite activity topped with going for long walks on the beach. She will often enjoy just relaxing in the sun and watching people walk by, or birds flying overhead. She is the best friend anyone can have, she is Gracie, my golden Retriever.

Mental Health

Chapter 1….Just the 2 of us.

So this is how it began. I was 5 and it was just me and mom. After leaving my aunts we moved into an apartment.  I remember it being so bright. We sang all the time, on a little navy blue suede 2-seater love seat,  “Leaving on a Jet Plane” that was our favorite then, and laughed like 2 kids. We shopped and played. We had a black cat named Sammy whom we adored. I remember being very happy with our little life together and my mom seemed happy too.

Every night my mom put rollers in my long blond hair so I looked my best for school. I had all the fashion a girl could want, toys, and a pet. A roof over my head and a sound place to sleep. I sucked my thumb still and had horrible nightmares and terrors. I would run into my moms room when I got scared, sometimes I could sleep on the floor, other times she would just tell me to go back to my room and go to sleep, or some nights I couldn’t move and would just lay there and scream and cry until my mom came in and tried to sooth me and tell me to go to sleep and don’t be silly. I had to learn to be with the monsters and ghosts and fall back to sleep under the covers. I didn’t want to be silly.

We had a dog when we lived with my dad, her name was Bonnie. She was a Sheppard/Collie mix. Bonnie was an amazing dog. She loved my mom and protected us. True story about Bonnie, when I was 4, she actually walked me to my school bus stop every morning and was there waiting for me when the bus dropped me off from school. My mom or dad never accompanied me to the bus stop. Dad worked and Mom well, I don’t know why. I must have been missing Bonnie so much then, as she was missing us wondering where we went, and as I write this, I’m noticing I’m frowning and my heart aches. Even at 55 years old.

I missed my playroom where I would have tea parties and play with my dolls, and my friends at my house where my dad lived, where I lived.

It was a challenge for my mom. Being a single parent, working full-time, having no help, no money, and dealing with babysitters who said I was a handful.  I learned that what I saw and how I was treated was how I dealt with matters or people that hurt me or I didn’t agree or understand how to react. I can remember my mom having a very bad temper, a fast hand, and being very angry, but also happy and fun too. I was blamed for things I know today, had nothing to do with me at the time, I was an outlet for her frustration and resentment for the life she had and has had. You see, my mom was one of many brothers and sisters. They had no food, barely any clothes, a house that was so small there were 5 in one bedroom, boys and girls. She was molested by her brothers and abused by her own mother, Her father, an alcoholic, was at War and they were all left to fend for themselves. My mom doesn’t speak of her childhood very much. She’s learned to live with it, to bury it deep in her mind. Alcohol was a big part of her upbringing. The Friday night card games with her brothers and father when he was home, they all turned into nasty nights of fists flying, yelling, and the house getting torn up, or her brothers tearing up the streets drinking and driving.

We moved 3 more times before we moved into a townhouse but this time we moved in with her boyfriend and his daughter. I had my own room and we had a pinball machine in the basement. It was bigger than any of the apartments we had lived in.

My stepfather owned all the properties we lived in over the short years. When we moved to the townhouse I was sick a lot and couldn’t quite make it to the bathroom when I had to and would be sick all over the carpet. My mom would yell and curse asking why I just couldn’t be good, why I always have to cause problems. I was so apologetic, so sorry for making her work and waking her up. I tried so hard to make it to the bathroom. I was sick a lot then, because my stepfather cooked with spices and it didn’t agree with me. I also believe it was because I was so unhappy.

I was 8 the day I had had enough and wanted to leave and run far away. I was getting ready for school, but the night before my mom said, “Don’t you dare make a sound in the morning!” Of course, when I pulled out my drawer to retrieve my socks, the drawer came right off the rails and BOOM, hit the floor. Oh my gosh, I thought. My mom came running into my room, grabbed a hanger and started hitting me, telling me how bad I am and I couldn’t keep quiet. I yelled, screamed, cried, I hate you, and said I wanted to live with my dad. I called him that morning and he was there at the end of school to take me. I don’t recall any of those events when he picked me up. I remember my father and my stepfather yelling at each other and the next thing I remember, I was at a hockey game with my father. I was happy and excited to be with him. 

I will always remember that night, it was and still is, so special to me.

Mental Health

My favorite form of exercise.

I’m not a workout type gal. Although every May I feel like I have to join a gym. Why May? I join and a month later, nah, I don’t wanna go! Every year! Commitment issues with the gym!

Walking with my girl Gracie, our golden retriever gets me moving. Walking with my music through the trails and letting Gracie run free is my favorite! We both feel the nature and what it gives to us. If I may mention walking is the best for your body and mind.

What is your favorite form of physical exercise?

Mental Health

What food is my specialty

What food would you say is your specialty?

Well first off, I’m not really a cooker, baker, or anything really in the kitchen. I’m more of a cleaner!

But when my husband came for dinner on our 3rd date he said I made a really good salad!!! 👍

Mental Health

Historical events I remember.

911. What a devastating day for so many.

I was in the middle of coloring my gf’s hair and watching tv, when all of a sudden it happened. The first building was hit. I immediately thought of my father as he was living in the states, my family in Toronto, and thought the whole world was on attack. I pulled my children out of school and we stayed close and when the kids were preoccupied we watched the news all day and night, probably for the next few days. It was a scary time in the entire world.

Mental Health

The biggest risk I’d ever take, why I haven’t done it.

When I think about a risk, I think of dangerous territory. Risky, will it be good or bad?

I guess the biggest risk I would take is writing and finishing my book and putting it out there for everyone to read, interpret their own meaning or conclusion. It’s risky because it’s a story of my life, my addiction and my recovery. It’s not just about me, it’s about my parents etc.

On the other hand of a risk there’s a rewarding risk, a good risk, and that would be that I could potentially help people by sharing my story that recovery is possible for everyone, no one is special, we all have it in us we just need to ask for help.

Why I haven’t done it? One word. FEAR.