I always thought I would be the kind of person that constantly kept a journal brimming to the binding with thoughts and experiences.

When I was a kid, I did this. I wrote in journals and kept them even after the very last page was clogged with my messy handwriting. I remember one journal in particular, the velvet purple butterfly one that seemed to contain the most pivotal moments of my teen years. My friendship with JD, the silly antics we got up to when we were both dabbling in the Wiccan religion, my 4 year long crush on a guy friend that I thought was unrequited, my fears for becoming a spinster because I thought this silly infactuation was true love, never to be returned. The struggles and arguments I had between my sisters and my friends. Silly dramas of high school.

I kept that journal in a metal cash box with other little bits and pieces of my high school days until we lived up North. In this metal box, along with the purple journal, was several notes between JD and I, a couple of mall photo booth shots with me and various people (JD, the guy crush that lasted 4 years, and an ex-boyfriend), my prom couple shot and a small album with photos from those days.

I threw the contents of that box out into the dumpster outside of our house up North after a disagreement between Matt and I. He didn’t understand why I had photos of my ex-boyfriends still.

He never told me to throw it out, I did it out of spite. I wasn’t holding onto them for any particular reason other than they were photo and written evidence of my past, and I thought that one day…I’d maybe like to read through those painful teen years and just remember who I was back then.

I wish I’d never thrown out the letters or the journal, or even the photos. I now don’t have a copy of my actual prom photo, the couple shot with my ex-boyfriend, the posed prom shot that I regret parting with. I shouldn’t have thrown it out just because he was in it. Yes, that relationship failed, as most high school relationships are bound to, but I learned a lot from it.

I wish I could read that purple velvet journal again, just to look back in fondess over the struggles that seemed so big at the time.

I suppose, in a way, I could consider this blog to be a time capsule of my memories from age 16 and on, but it’s not the same as the paper journal and the evolution of penmanship.

Still, I’m glad I never deleted this blog. I’ve lost several months in translation, from moving to one blog to the next, but the majority of it is still there. My transition from thoughtless teen to new mother, from fiancé to wife. Heck, I’m pretty sure that there might be some rambling from my younger high school days, buried within the archives somewhere.

Maybe one day, I’ll print the contents of this blog. All my experiences, from then to now and in the future, in binding. The raw, imperfect reflections, locked on pages.

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I am an emotional person, I think anyone who knows me or who has been reading my blog for any length of time, no matter how small, knows that. It’s pretty obvious. It’s my best and my worst quality, my emotion. My passion.

Some days, I burn brightly. An all consuming fire of passion and ideas. Elated with all things.

Other days, I flicker dimly, on the verge of having my flame distinguished. Almost as if burning so hard and so bright has exhausted me.

My elation burns brightly, but so does my temper more often than not. I get angry easily, I lose patience easily, and I have trouble focusing…my thoughts constantly pulled every which way from things I should be doing and things I need to be doing, to random distractions of life.

Some days, I am incredible at multitasking. Other days…I’m not even close to functional.

What makes this frustration is that there is no even road, no steady current. It’s mountains and hills and the most uneven ground. Large highs and deep lows. It’s choppy waters at best, a tsunami at worst.

Some people are zen, some people are relaxed. I am neither. I’m always buzzing with some kind of intense emotion, but it aggravation or happiness. I would never be described as “calm” or “collected”.

Today, I am flickering dimly, on the verge of exhausting that light. So, I’m hiding away, wishing I could be steady and calm.

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Crusty McCruster

I’m feeling incredibly grumpy and agitated right now. It seems like any time I sit down to write, distractions explode from every direction making it impossible to focus.

Typically, the kids ignore me. Unless I sit down at my computer with the intent to write. Suddenly, they need me for everything. It doesn’t matter if I set them up with a delicious snack and they have full bellies, it doesn’t matter if they’ve been completely absorbed with their toys for the past hour, ignoring every attempt I make to talk to them. If I sit down at that computer, all hell breaks loose.

Which makes me frustrated, considering each time I pull myself away and engage with them in play, they start ignoring me again. They’ll ignore me until I attempt to write again.

It’s definitely an intentional act designed to drive me to the deepest recesses of insanity.

It’s definitely working.

I just want to finish the first draft of my manuscript so I can read it over and see how little sense it makes. I wonder if I’ve written “OMG JUST LET ME WRITE IN PEACE FOR ONE HOUR IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!” instead of a scene.

If I could sit down and actually focus long enough to accomplish any thing at all, I’d be able to pump out more books. I have a billion ideas floating around up here in my noggin, and little to no time to get them out and on the page (or rather, the screen).

One day…

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Being the Bailer

I’ve done a lot this week. More than I usually allow myself to do. It’s not what I did so much as how many “spoons” those activities took away from me.

On a good day, I waste the majority of my spoons simply cleaning or going to the grocery store. Oh, the grocery store sucks pretty much each spoon I have straight out of my hands. The standing, the walking, the stretching and bending, the lifting and carrying. And the kid wrangling too, because chances are I have a least one kid with me. It’s so exhausting that I often try and pawn the task off on Matt (who gladly does it and who is better at scoring sales anyway because I’m too pain-blind to pay attention).

On Tuesday, we went to Ripley’s Aquarium in Toronto. We took a train out, and while it was an incredible experience (seriously, fun for the whole family), it ate up every last one of my spoons, and then some of the ones I had on reserve, and the majority of the ones from next week.

We had to run to catch the train, which destroyed me. By the time we got home, I had a full fledged migraine brought on by what I can only assume is the pain I was in.

On Wednesday, I took Archer to a program I’ve been meaning to try out for the last several weeks. It’s a little tea and coffee playgroup thing, and while it was also fun, I stood too much and held him too much and just generally tried to do too much too soon after the Ripley’s Aquarium adventure.

I had plans on Thursday to take Archer to family story time at the library, and then bailed on those plans because I just wasn’t feeling it. I still foolishly did stuff though, I drove to my MILs house for a visit and then to my dads. Then I came home and cleaned.

Today, I was supposed to go on a play date with a friend and her kids to some family event thing. I had to text her and cancel, because I can scarcely move right now and I know my weekend is full.

I’ve got a family function to attend tomorrow, sans Matt’s help wrangling the boys and driving the hour long drive because he also has a family thing on his side to attend. I’m also babysitting my niece Saturday night to Sunday afternoon.
I have no spoons now, this morning, and my focus needs to be taking it easy and regaining at least a few of them so I can actually get through this weekend.

I know that there will already be tears (on my part), and that bailing today was necessary to try and preserve and regain spoons, but it really sucks to feel like a bailer…to be the one who has to bail. Especially because a lot of the time, I don’t think people get it. After all, it’s just walking around. It’s nothing that normal folks with no spoon limitation would consider to be strenuous on the body. But for those who have a spoon limitation, walking can be very strenuous. Regular old tasks that others wouldn’t think twice about, like going to the grocery store or even walking their kids to the bus stop, are seemingly large, exhausting fleets.

I’m not my best self when I’m in a lot of pain, either. I’m not as patient. I’m rather snappy and short with those around me. I try to reign that in, because it’s really not everyone else’s fault that I am in pain. I’m aware of it now…I’m more concious of my actions than I was a few years ago.

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Different Priorities

People are kind of ridiculous, and I don’t mean anyone in particular really, just people. In general. All of us.

There are very few people who can recognize and accept the fact that other people are different. They have different morals, different focuses, different goals and ambitions. What’s important to one person may not be important to another.

I find that when something is of high importance to me and not to someone else, that the solution – instead of getting all angry that the other person doesn’t find it as important, is to simply accept that our priorities are different and either let it go or do it myself if the situation calls for it.

I cannot waste my energy being worried or angry about how someone does or doesn’t do something. Different strokes for different folks, you know? I need to focus on what’s in front of me. I need to prioritize things the way that I need to prioritize them. That doesn’t mean my focus is wrong, it’s just…different.

I’m not a perfect person. I have low energy on a good day. I struggle with chronic pain, anxiety and depression. Sometimes, things slide. I’m a forgetful person, walking around in a fog of my own pain and the things that are important to me. My sons, my husband, our family. I have to let certain things go to preserve my diminishing energy sometimes, and that’s okay. I’m trying to learn how to deal with that, you know? The guilt of letting something slide, especially when someone else doesn’t agree with the fact that I’ve let it slide.

At the end of the day, I ask myself these questions:
1) Did my sons feel loved today?
2) Is everybody fed?
3) Did I do the best that I could have today?

If the answers as yes (and they usually always are), then I consider it a successful day and I try to ignore focusing on the things I didn’t and couldn’t get around to. Like the clean laundry that didn’t get folded or put away, the recycling that I forgot to drag to the curb, or the few dishes I left to “soak” overnight in the sink.

But sometimes, people forget that everyone else has these different lists of priorities. Some people are able to accomplish all that I can and do in a day, and then some. Some people have different responsibilities and their results are…different.

So, stop judging people for doing things differently and get over it. The key to a happier life is letting go of negativity, so don’t create it unnecessarily by stressing about what other people are or are not doing.

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Do you ever feel like you’re being pulled in a thousand different directions? What you want to do, what you need to do, what you should do, how it should be, how it actually is?

Do you ever feel like there’s no right answer, there’s no solution where everybody wins and everybody is happy?

Do you ever feel like you leave destruction and mayhem in your wake, even when you don’t mean to…even when you just want to make it all better, make it all stop?

Do you ever wish you had the power to shut all those feelings of confusion, guilt and obligation aside just so you can get a spare moment to focus on what’s truly important to you? But you can’t, because time and time again you are reminded why you should be feeling all those feelings of guilt and obligation, and despite your confusion…you feel like your feet are encased in concrete and you are stuck somewhere that you don’t want to be.

I know where I want to be. I want to be in a happy place with those who do not hurt me. I want to be able to listen to what my husband is saying, what he has been saying forever, stuck on repeat because I can’t seem to hear him. I hear him, but I don’t because he is right but he is also wrong. I want to wash myself of all the guilt and negativity.

I just want things to be the way that they are supposed to be. I want to be the way I’m supposed to be, the way I want to and should be.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

In other news, we had to postpone the photoshoot for the book trailer and book teasers. It’s been raining and the grey skys wouldn’t have given us the lighting we needed for the photos we wanted.

However, I tried to distract my mind (which is currently on overdrive), so I made a couple of book teasers for Collide. I am new at this, so don’t judge too harshly. Here they are…




I’m sort of pleased with them. They’re good for having been made on my cell phone in an app called “Phonto” that allows you to put text over an image. The images are mine, the bottom two taken from my days living in North Bay, Ontario (where Collide takes place).

I know I’d be able to rock it all a little more if I had an awesome computer with awesome computer programs, but one day…one day I will.

In the meantime, if this entices you to read Collide, you can find it on Kobo or Kindle.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

I’m hoping to get back into writing tonight or tomorrow. Today, we’re supposed to go on a family adventure. Nolan is playing hooky and we are taking a train to Toronto.

I’ve been on a vacation, letting things that are important to me be placed on the back burner so I could try to deal with and process other things.

It’s time to refocus.

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The Hangover

Back before I knew what life was really about, I thought the only ‘hangover’ one could get was from the bottom of a mickey of vodka or banana rum after a night of partying.

Now, after life has taught me a few hard lessons, I’ve learned that this isn’t true. There are all kinds of hangovers. You can have a book hangover, a person hangover, a shitty situation hangover, and just a general life hangover. There are so many kinds of hangovers that I’ve actually pretty much stopped drinking because life gives me enough hangovers and I really don’t need to add to it.

Just like after a night of drinking, you can feel completely drained and disoriented, dizzy and just…spent.

That’s how I’m feeling right now. Completely drained, disoriented, dizzy and spent. I no longer wish to deal with any bullshit, no matter how slight or seemingly insignificant it is.

Which almost makes me feel bad, but then and again…I’m hungover.

I’ll be nursing my hangover and the accompanying massive migraine in the dark depths of my bedroom.

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