FUAN

Why is it that my emotions consume me, destroying my composition with such ease?
Feelings spew forth, tossing me back and forth and then just as suddenly they stop to cradle me gently in nurturing arms
Some people simply observe the passing states of emotion, like traffic on a downtown street
But not me. I wrap myself up tightly in this feeling or that feeling, creating a self-imposed straight jacket of entanglement, trying desperately to understand the irrational
I'm a constant eruption - of joy - sadness - fear - love - desire. It's unstoppable.
I know that when I allow myself to move into a feeling, without judging, projecting or attempting to manipulate in any way, intense emotion generally passes over me quickly
When I am the observer, I can see things from a higher perspective.
I feel less attached to particular outcomes.
I can trust in what's happening as right and valuable to my constantly evolving self
I wish had a button that I could press to activate that kind of detachment.
I wish I had that now.
Today I sit paralyzed, unable to make things balance out, waiting for some revelation
FUAN: Fucked up and Neurotic
It's a good thing I'm going out dancing tonight!

It's a Girl Thang

The angel of Femininity inspires me, with sweetness and love...

I honour her through...
Lip gloss, boots and silky things
Singing Lanslide and realy feeling it inside
Charming smiles that put others at ease
Flirting and fantasizing
Knowing my power and owning completely
Bringing home the bacon
Feeding the people I love
Being there for a friend
Dancing until I drop
Believing in my man no matter what
Sitting with my child when she's sick
Facing my fears
Feeling the earth
Opening my heart
Loving life and
...having goofy girl fun

What My Mother Never Knew #7: Pinball Ally Drug Deals

I recall after that first time trying to buy a joint at a pinball arcade. I think my friend was actually the one who had the courage to do it. I don't remember actually smoking it. Actually, I'd rather not remember the details. It's funny how even though I haven't used that stuff in many years, I still feel a strange pull if I think about it for too long. I guess the thought of a quick dose of "peaceful easy feeling" will always toy with me. The thing is, the peaceful easy feeling was short lived, resulting in a crash when the high wore away and for the most part, it never quite met my expectations. The whole fumbling attempt at finding bliss was also fraught with paranoia, depression, drunken blackouts and many other less than rewarding experiences.

I spoke with my mom about pot around that time. I wanted to know why I had found it in her purse. Why was there a roach in the china gravy boat on the fireplace mantle? I'd sniffed it a hundred times, curious about the scent and why people thought it so alluring. My mom's explanation was that some people indulged once in a while. Like having a drink or two. She also warned that for some people experimenting with drugs could lead to more dangerous drugs, psych wards or addiction. My mom explained that my uncle had had a problem with alcohol and that it might be in my genes. She was of the mind that soft drugs like pot were OK as long as you used them and they didn't use you. This foreknowledge later saved my life.

What My Mother Never Knew #6: Quest for Nirvana

I hope it doesn't sound as if I'm glorifying drug use. It's just that initially, I really felt I'd found the answer to all my problems. As I mentioned, I was a deeply sensitive child; anxiety and painful shyness had haunted me for much of my childhood. Teachers raising their voices to me left me feeling withdrawn and weak. Finally, I closed myself off like a turtle pulled into his shell, just hoping to be avoided by oncoming traffic. At home, my voice had been unheard, dishonoured and even squashed to the point where I had nothing to say. I had even grown to victimize myself in the same ways that I'd been victimized as a younger child - I told myself I was not good enough, not important and not loved. I told myself that I was worthless.

Drugs allowed me, for just a brief instant, to feel a sense of peace and relief from the heavy burden of shame I'd been carrying. They gave me courage where I'd had none and allowed me to bond with friends in a way that felt deeply familial. Those were my first deliberate steps away from the hurts of my past, away from my self-absorbed mother and towards what I considered to be the most beautiful sunrise I'd ever seen. I was certain that Nirvana could not be far away.

What My Mother Never Knew #5: Halleluiah!!

The night after that first joint we wandered the neighbourhood in a daze, awake and dreaming. Of course we thought this was God's gift to humanity - and it was so much gentler than the inhalant we'd been using previous weeks. We were at the playground, still children in so many ways.
Are you high?
I don't know, are you?
I feel like I'm dreaming...
My friend definitely was not herself as she took her shirt off and went down the slide in her bra. I laughed hysterically. The rest is a blur but I recall it being one of the most freeing experiences of my life. I struggled with shyness and shame. I'd been through so much by the time I turned 11 - the grass set me free from all my anxiety, it allowed my inhibitions to slip away. I let them melt into the sand at that playground. It was as if I'd been reborn.

What My Mother Never Knew #4: Stashed Secrets

There were a number of secrets that I had stashed away at that time. For instance, I knew about my mom's stash.
We found the baggie one day in her purse along with her lipstick and cheque book, acting quick to pilfer as much as we could without notice. We didn't know quite what to do with it and had only taken a few rolling papers. So we decided to practice with newspaper and grass (the green kind from outside). It was awkward and the joints looked more like cigars but eventually, we made some sense of the process and switched to the tissue-like papers.

We smoked the first one in the house, in my mom's bedroom, hanging out the window. It tasted vile but we forced ourselves to complete the whole joint. It was probably mild compared to the harsher chemicals we'd been trying but it still felt like a daring 11 year old act of defiance. And if a professional educator and mother could have this stuff in her purse, why not us? We were becoming women of the world after all, weren't we?

We had other secrets of our own stashed away. My friend and I were being paid to take care of a neighbour's plants while she was away. There were many plants and getting to all of them was an ordeal. But every second day for three weeks we diligently put our fingers in the soil to check for thirst and responded accordingly. It was wonderful to have this escape pad to retreat to. We smoked a few cigarettes from a package that was left on the kitchen counter. We played the Doobie Brothers:

Old black water, keep on rollin'
Mississippi moon won't you keep on shinin' on me?
Yeah, keep on shinin' your light, gonna make every thing
Pretty mama, gonna make everything all right
And I ain't got no worries 'cause I ain't in no hurry at all
Well, if it rains, I don't care, don't make no difference to me
Just take that street car that's goin' up town
Yeah, I'd like to hear some funky Dixieland and dance a honky tonk,
and I'll be buyin' everybody drinks all roun'-------

We even got funky on her bed one time. "Did you get yours?" she said. "Yeah. Did you?"... "MMMMM"... smiles. "I've got homework - help me straighten up this bed. I'd die if she knew we were in here."

We laughed about our brazen act later, but really, it wasn't that risky. The lady was in Mexico - it wasn't like she was going to walk in. Still, the fear of possible discovery was exhilarating! Lying side by side, pleasuring ourselves, hearing each other's breathing quicken and knowing we were in a strange place listening to someone else's records - it was a total turn-on. Sure, it was a bit on the irreverant side... but you're only young once right?

What My Mother Never Knew - Chapter 3: First Kiss

It was about this time that I had my first real kiss. It wasn't a Truth or Dare kiss - it was a kiss with the cutest shiest boy who I thought hadn't even noticed me. We were playing hide and go seek in the dark in a friend's basement. He took my hand to show me a spot to hide and the next thing I knew we were kissing. It was a blind kiss - touch, smell and sound only. I still remember his 14 year old peach fuzz upper lip. I was only 11 but responding as a fully functioning female. His hand ripped away from my training bra as the lights suddenly flicked on. I blushed but nobody had seen us. We crawled out from under the desk and there were snickering looks in our direction. I didn't feel any different than I had prior to the kiss. But I couldn't wait for the next one.

The boy was so cute - I still remember the smell of his jean jacket. He had shoulder length curly brown hair and a penetrating smile, like he was always taking stock. He always seemed to have a smoke dangling from his mouth and pretended not to be enamoured with me after that first kiss. But I knew better. Each time we were alone, or at least hidden, he would move closer, always seeming to expect me to back away. I wasn't shy with him though, I could sense his curious longing. I kissed him once standing behind a shed while the other kids were goofing off near the park. It was the first time I'd kissed him standing up and each time my mouth met his, he let out a small gasp and his knees buckled. I actually remember trying to hold him up so he wouldn't collapse!! I suddenly came to realize a new power. I was in awe of what it did to my body as much as his though.

When I let him know I was moving out west at the end of the school year, I could see his disappointment. He said I'd lose my virginity before I turned 15. That was a generous estimate it turned out. But more on that at another time.

You're Not Alone

It's been a long and lonely walk you've been on...

Come in from the cold and warm your aching bones
Let me share with you my gentle refuge of incense and tea.
I hear your despair, desolate heartache and disappointment with life
And your hurt rings with the stark truth of a gritty old blues tune played on an beat up six string guitar
Does it ease your suffering to know that I feel your pain and accept you completely?
When I look into your solemn eyes, I know that your hurt is no different than mine,
Backpacks full of marred childhoods, poor choices and sour lovers - so compressed that we think they've become part of us
The shame and self-disappointment becomes hidden away, like subtle quartz veins tucked within the bedrock
Know that I'm here if you want to dig, bringing light to bear on your woes
Fear no judgment here, for above all, I honour your courage, your earnestness and especially your trust in me
If you need it, please accept my soulful embrace
It won't heal your wounds but perhaps it may relieve the sting.
At the very least, it will affirm your absolute worthiness of love and compassion and leave you knowing that you are not alone.

What My Mother Never Knew: Chapter 2 - Preteen Insanity

We really had some wild times. It was a time of total self-empowerment really. We were taking matters into our own hands. We wanted to try every new experience that we could call our own - powerful secrets kept from our parents. We used to sit around asphyxiating ourselves with towels and passing out. It was exhilarating to be on the edge like that. I liked being out of control.

I remember seeing a bunch of kids sniffing Pam Cooking spray in someone's basement. I thought they were nuts - risking their lives, their brains. And then within weeks the group of kids that I called friends were trying it and I was not to be left behind.

The first sniff was crazy - like a warm blanket running through my veins. My soft tissues felt hot and I could hear music, always changing, dangling music that was beautiful. We continued this dance with an aerosol bottle many times, many headaches and red oily noses... I'm mortified to think that my daughter is now 11. I remember my second babysitting job - there we were, searching the basement for inhalants while the kids watched TV. Something should have tweaked then. Something was very wrong and I was a kid who knew what was right and what was wrong. It was wrong but I couldn't stop myself. I'm lucky to be articulate enough to even write this... I'm lucky to be alive.

The last time was something I'll never forget. What I mean is - I'll never forget coming to afterward-most of the experience is a blank. I'd been psychotic - smashing my head in some cupboard doors and becoming completely insane. One of us was straight - babysitting the rest of us I guess. I sicken to think what we were doing and how one of us could have stood and seen that. My first memory was answering the door - a friend looked in horror at the blood running down my lips and the misalligned front tooth. I later told my mom how I'd tripped while running and hit my face on a curb. The upper tooth never did recover and is now covered with a crown.

It was so long ago now, and yet I remember some of it so clearly. I remember feeling sick with shame yet anxious to find even further escape. I wanted out of my self so badly that I would risk death. There's lots more to that story but I'll come back to that later. Let's just say that it was the beginning of me trying to take charge of my own direction - I guess I thought it was better than where I had come from.

Little did I know how bad it would get.

What My Mother Never Knew - Chapter 1

We were older than girls and younger than "young women". Fearless 10 year olds - trying to figure out where we fit in an exciting limitless world. We asked my mom what a BJ meant, knowing already but wanting her to say it. She didn't flinch until we asked her if she had ever given one... then she changed the subject.

Those days were crazy - hot games of truth or dare with long boy kisses under the covers (wasn't it supposed to feel - like, good or something??); choking back those first cigarettes in the storm drain under the highway; teasing a social misfit until she cried. I don't know how we decided what was appropriate and what was not. When I look back, there don't seem to be any clear boundaries. How on earth did Sue show me how she masturbated that first time? Who started that conversation? Did I initiate that first mutual bump and grind? We didn't even know what the word bisexual meant - we were just kids, testing the boundaries.

Sex quite quickly became a mutual interest. We found a box of old books: The Happy Hooker, Everything You Ever Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask, Fanny, The Surrogate Wife, Fear of Flying - we devoured them all. Suddenly, children of the sexual revolution, we embraced all realities as the norm. We never did figure out how someone could get a lightbulb in his rectum but we knew that if we could just grow up a little faster we would find out what it meant to find your G Spot. I mourn my lost childhood now when I look back. It seems that I was so quick to shed my innocence.

Tatooed Dreams

Something small and beautiful has begun sprouting in the corners of my soul
Its sweet smelling and pure, like baby blue crocuses in the spring, surprising me with their keen arrival
I didn’t ask for these new feelings to show up – and they didn’t knock before coming
Yet I watch them infiltrate my inner sanctum with interest, curiosity and trepidation
Your face lingers in my thoughts, your strong hands ask to be touched, your smiling eyes melt me with their warmth
I flirt with the fantasy of being near you, allowing my hugs to linger and whispering secret longings into your ear
But I don’t dare – there’s far too much at stake, for you and your future – and for me and my fearful heart
Such a risk can’t be worth taking.
But what then can I do? Do I continue to pretend that I don’t wait expectantly for the times when I’ll see you again or that I’m not disappointed when you aren’t able to come?
Do I continue to act appropriately cordial and friendly?
Do I ignore the fact that I miss you the minute we part and that the feeling of emptiness echoes into the days that follow?
I wish I could beckon for you to meet me at the dock at midnight and spend the night under the stars
I wish I could talk to you about everything we’ve ever thought about
I wish our lives were different and that we had met each other in the supermarket or the bookstore
But your tattoos, like battle scars, tell a story of thick skin, hardened highways and broken dreams
I do see that you’ve changed and I see that you are on the brink of being birthed into a fresh new world, ready to set things right
I’m inspired by your earnest desire to be better, to succeed, and I’m touched by your humility and acceptance of reality’s hurdles
But bittersweet wisdom tells me that the timing and circumstance are off-kilter and that anything started now would be imbalanced and unfulfilling…
Yet I’m not giving up completely
Maybe some day, when things are different, you can call and ask me out to a movie or dinner – or for a midnight walk on a moonlit beach…
I’ll cook for you and we can wash dishes together and laugh about our flawed lives
This nurtured dream will keep - long enough for you to emerge from your cocoon, find your footing and lick your wounds
When you’re strong, steady and ready – I’ll meet you half-way, as equals and as true friends
We’ll let things unfold naturally and maybe we’ll find out for sure if this growing sense of promise can actually bear fruit that’s sweet and succulent