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“Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:4-7‬ ‭ESV‬‬


Love is such a normal human – mammal thing yet my generation seems to fear love, myself included. Or perhaps I am not afraid of love, I can express my love to the people I keep close to my heart but the idea of allowing another part time person to dwell within the walls of my heart scares me to the core. My fears run ramped because no one understands the true meaning of love, or that just because its not the way it was at the beginning of the relationship, that hot and fierce kinda love, it means that you no longer have a connection Give-Strength-02.pngor that you have fallen out of love. This immature love is what 90% of my generation considers “real love” and its not. Real love is enduring, it is deep and comforting; it encourages personal growth and is ever lasting. I crave the comfortable love, when the butterflies and pounding heart no longer takes away your breath because their love is like oxygen and it encourages you to breath.When silence is no longer awkward, when you can be as open and honest with each other, when you know you’re relationship is built on more then just the idea of being together and the lust that fuels our entire world. I am tired of this immature love, the love that has no promise of tomorrow or growing old together. I want love that lasts, that lifts me when my anxiety and depression pushes me down. Love that encourages, empowers and helps both of us grow. I crave the love that fights through the lows, the disagreements and prevails everytime; a love full of trust and compromise. A relationship in which we are still two separate people with lives outside of our relationship but we work together to better ourselves and each other, to make a life that is harmonized and beautifully ours. I dream of a love ever lasting and strong, a love that will break through any barriers or obstacles that this world may throw our way.   I dream of the kind of love Shakespeare wrote about, that Nicholas Sparks based novels on; a love that strengthens your soul and gives you the courage to be vulnerable.


Being vulnerable isn’t my thing, I haven’t been able to allow my heart to be open and inviting since B, and I don’t think I’ll ever will be a hopeless romantic again. I use to dream of love, of finding my “prince charming” and living happily ever after; these dreams don’t come around anymore. I wish they did, I wish I could open up and stop allowing my past to control my present and future. But I guess I tend to let my past control all aspects of my life.. 


Just another day.. 

Another day of working a job I don’t enjoy, just to make money to pay bills. Another day of faux energy and happiness made possible by coffee and antidepressants. I just can’t help but feel like there is more to life then this. 

Help me acknowledge that my plan isn’t mine to make but yours; you paved my journey before I came into this world and you are leading me to something greater then my sorrow. Heavenly Father, open my eyes to the blessings you have entrusted in me. Help me find purpose and direction, courage and strength. Amen. 

Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me

When does the pain stop? 

When does this empty feeling go away? When does the useless feeling, the lost feeling subside? When will I be happy? “It gets better” they say, “just give yourself time to heal.” Tell me, please, how I am suppose to repair a broken heart and soul.

It’s been 11 long years since my life fell apart; I was confident and happy, my eyes sparked with hope of a happy life and then that hurricane hit. I can’t stress how crushing it is to have a guy come out as gay especially at 14 after you slept together for the first time just three months before. I can’t begin to explain the depth of the pain that brings me, the demons anxiety invited in tell me daily that I was responsible for his decision. Even after being told over and over again that it was nothing I did, that I didn’t “turn him gay” a huge part of me still believes that something I did turned him off women.

My sane mind knows being gay isn’t a choice, but most of the time the demons scream louder then my same mind can.

It didn’t make my fears and insecurities any better when he came back into my life. 4 months of passive aggressive and just plain aggressive comments dimmed every star that use to sparkle in my eyes. He controlled my entire life, using threats to achieve his own personal goals. I lost friends, I lost my self worth and I felt tired and worn from carrying his sucide threats, from battling with his “I’ll go full gay” comments if I made him angry. I felt trapped and alone; alone because he was often unreachable. He was never there when i needed him to be, I called him for hours after my grandma died and heard nothing from him; I couldn’t reach him on nights that I was up all night crying about my dads diagnosis. He was my first love, my last relationship.

His problems kept me from my family for that awful 10 months. Kept me away from one of my favorite people; my beautiful grandma. Her soul was so genuine, her laugh was 081 (2).JPGcontagious and she loved deeper then any person I have ever known. I still have the last time I saw her burnt into my brain. The hazy memory torments me, sitting across the room from her watching her cry. It was Christmas, it was beautiful chaos, it was comfortable and it was home; she always felt like home even though I never lived with her. Her best friend died and she was missing him, missing him the way you miss someone during the holidays, that bittersweet feeling of joy and pain. I kick myself everyday that I didn’t make more of a effort to see her, I was consumed with my own pain that I couldn’t see that she was suffering. I remember the day she died often, it hit me so hard hearing those words. It felt like a part of me died, that my heart was ripped from my chest and that my home had burnt to the ground. It was so unexpected, she was improving the nurses said, they must be wrong, why? Curled up in the fetal position crying so hard I couldn’t breath, memorizing the time and day God took my angel, I fell into a restless sleep only to awake to a new reality I couldn’t deal with..

Like a unsettling storm that picks up speed with every passing second I was thrown into a whirlwind of emotions; A moment of peace seemed to be closely followed by hours of unrelenting spinning. Lets go back a few days, it was a Tuesday and his diagnosis was over shadowed for a moment because of grandma’s heart attack and untimely death. My strong, resilient dad was handed a death sentence at only 44 years of age and for the first time in my life I saw fear in his eyes. Life has a not-so-funny way of doing things, we get pushed to our limits and learn from it; well we’re expected to learn from it. I never understood that, that ridiculous notion that we must suffer to become stronger. I have watch people deteriorate and kill themselves slowly, I’ve see pain and suffering that never really goes away. I have only learned to fear, to doubt and to build walls to protect me. I have learned that blood is not stronger then water or drugs, that people and things are thrown away if they are broken. I haven’t learnt or grown from the sorrows threw my way, I have not understood or accepted. I continue to suffer in silence over my own and everyone around me’s issues and pain

Watching my dad slowly deteriorate was one of the hardest things I ever had to do, it killed me inside. I had no motivation to do anything my depression took a hold of me and my anxiety made my think the worst everyday thoughts like “I’ll come home and he
wont be alive” ran through my head and I had no room in my head to learn. I began missing school, a lot. My grades were falling and I didn’t care, I failed most of my first semester courses in grade 11 and barely made it a month into second semester before dropping out. It was almost exactly two years after my grandma’s death and my dad’s diagnosis and I struggled a lot with my decision, especially so close to graduation but we were only given a certain number of days with my dad, he out lived the 18 months but I had no idea if he would live longer then 2 year and I couldnt deal with the anxiety that surrounded the unknown and only felt some relief if I was home with him. A few weeks before I dropped out of school I met this girl, I’m going to refer to her as K because she doesn’t even deserve to be fully named. K lived with her biological dad’s ex girlfriend (M) and her kids and on the weekends they stayed at M’s boyfriend’s house. M’s boyfriend had 4 other kids from a previous marriage and one (S) was close to mine and K’s age but old enough to legally buy alcohol; we drank a lot, the three of us and his 2b4139adf25e8c889e50f4e99dbaf86f.jpgvarious friends. I never have been a big drinker but at that point I was desperate for a momentary break from reality and so I drank as fast and as much as I could to kill my sorrow and when I did I spent the night. I never once had any issues and slowly their family and friends became mine until one night in May. It was a warm night, I was drinking and stumbled back to the house as the party ended, I had been at my boyfriend at the times house and preferred to spend the evening with him then at a party. There was only Ryan and K and S and his brother still hanging around when I got back which didn’t bother me because Ryan, S and his brother never seemed like a threat; oh how naive I was. K and I usually slept in S’s bedroom because there was a huge bed and he didn’t mind sleeping on the couch, this night was different though. We ended up in S’s room to continue to drink because his dad was sleeping. In that room, in a bed I had slept in many times I was molested; K sleeping next to me, inches from my face yet I could not move to wake her up. The terror that Ryan brought into my life still haunts me, why couldn’t I move or speak? My nightmare wasn’t over though, no not even close . Nothing is worse then being sexually assaulted and not believed, being made to feel like I asked for it and not being able to tell anyone in fear that you would be doubted again. After everything I had been threw with males I felt like I was even more damaged then before. I have not been soberly intimate with someone since his cold fingers made their way down my body and underwear, I haven’t had a pap smear or trusted another man since.

**Disclaimer, this is not completely true. My best friend is a male, he has always believed me, and been there for me. He is the one of the most amazing men I have ever known and he reassures me that there are trustworthy men out there, I couldn’t continue this without acknowledging how amazing and trustworthy he is. I owe him more then I could ever give him. **

I have stayed away from alcohol and the idea of drinking sent me into a whirlwind of angry and painful emotions that always ended in a panic attack and a turned off phone. On the rare occasions that I did drink, which weren’t often, I would either drink too much or sip on one drink and hand it to someone else.  I mastered the art of fake drinking in situations I felt unsafe in and would only sleep at other peoples houses if there was no chance of other people being there and if there was I would taxi to my best friends house and crash in his bed. There were a couple times I drank so much I lost all sensible behavior and ended up in a bed with someone. I hate admitting that, I’m not that person but thankfully both of the guys were old friends and were nothing but respectful after and during..

This is a pattern my family knows well, Drinking and sleeping around has been a family tradition as far back as my great grandparents. This is not something I am proud of, or something that I ever wanted to do. Alcohol and drugs have taken so much from me and my family I don’t know why I ever put myself in the situations I put myself in, or why I didn’t learn from my elders mistakes. I changed my ways, I didn’t want to have that reputation. I didn’t want to follow in their footsteps so I stopped.

“I’ve seen my whole family struggle, with money, with drugs, with alcohol, and I thought there must be a better way. As you mature, you realize you don’t choose your family. It’s not your fault what they do and you should not be ashamed. “

Shortly after my grandma died, my dad got sick and my “first love” came out my family was hit with yet another challenge. My uncle, a tall-ish man with a temper and img083.jpgpersonality to match, suddenly stopped coming around, he stopped being a part of our lives and when he was around he was often in his own little world. I never knew why, I didn’t want to come to terms that he was battling his demons with drugs or that my uncle wasn’t perfect. I looked up to him so much, I looked forward to seeing him and he was without a doubt my favorite uncle. I decided a long time ago that if I got married and my dad had passed I wanted Uncle Bill to walk me down the aisle because he was the only other man other then my dad I would trust to give me to my future husband. I don’t want to get married anymore, trusting males never got me anywhere and even if I did I’d walk alone, there I go digressing again. We didn’t see or hear from him for about a year, his addiction killed the only uncle I loved unconditionally and in kind of glad I didn’t see him in that condition. His demons picked at him and his inability to cope with his moms death led him to a pipe, a white crystallized substance that was to blame for losing his entire family and no where to live. A little over a year and a half later his entire life was controlled by his addiction, he was so consumed with trying to get high or finding a way to make money for drugs his personal relationships fell apart. His common-law wife kick him out of their house and he was left homeless and broken. My mom has the biggest heart, she would give her last dollar to someone she loves even if she needed it, and without a second thought opened our home to him.

I have to admit, I felt as though we would finally have the old him back and we would finally have our family back together; little did I know the severity of his addiction or that he was not the only one that was battling addiction. I have so many fond memories of that short-lived time he lived here. He was involved in our lives, he was a breath of fresh air and gave my dad an opportunity to feel like his old self. My uncle did not sugar coat the world or treat him different, they joked and laughed and our home was alive again. It was short lived, the good times usually are when dealing with addicts, he met a woman who was just as sick as he was and stopped coming home. The day my parents kicked him out my mom’s camera went missing and he was automatically blamed, even though my dad’s brother and care workers were also in and out of our house all day, and my heart broke again.

Sadly, he wasn’t the only one in our family that was addicted to drugs or negative behaviors.

My youngest uncle, he’s only 15 years older then me yet acts like a child. He drinks, does drugs, brags about his sexual activities and claims he was in porn. He has never had a serious relationship and I’m sure has a few unknown children, born and unborn, around somewhere. He was the first to point out my uncle’s problems, he was the first to gossip about his drug using yet was never a man enough to admit that he was also just as sick as his brother. The one huge difference between my Uncle Bill and this idiot is that Uncle Bill had no kids that his actions were effecting. How can you call yourself a father while you are out dropping acid, bragging about being in porn and snorting cocaine to stay awake? How can you bring a child, let alone a daughter, into this world and not show her how a man is suppose to act? She is now just as messed up as he is stealing checks and cashing them, drinking all weekend and sleeping around. He would refer to his choices and actions as “being an adult” and had the audacity to bring another life into this world when he wasn’t even capable to raise the one he has. A mini him now runs wild in this world, 5 years old and already swearing and unruly, a product of two addicts who continue to use and abuse drugs. He is the first to speak ill of Uncle Bill, to spread lies about how he’s not working or smoking meth, yet will never admit that he is too. That he is living a double life or that his web of lies are so tangled he is unsure of what it real. He often calls my mom asking for money or a ride, he is in an unhealthy relationship that effects 4 innocent children and has the maturity level of a 10 year old boy. To say that I dislike him would be an understatement. In my eyes he is just as untrustworthy as they make my uncle appear to be.

I am in debt for 20,000 dollars because I decided to go to Vancouver Career College instead of a public college. I was only told, by many potential employers, after I was already done that most places see Vancouver Career College on a resume and throw it away. I am in debt for something I can even use.

In addition to all of this, I have watched my sister struggle relentlessly with a custody battle between her and her children’s father. Her pain and sorrow is evident, especially when he first left, whenever there’s a family holiday or birthday and her and the boys are left without the missing piece. Her only wish was for a happy family, a mom and dad together. We weren’t raised with separated parents and we never had to divide our time between homes, and she didn’t want that for her boys either. The exhaustion and pain I see in her eyes on a daily basis is heart wrenching and so unnecessary. This and so many other little situations I’ve experienced showed me that love doesn’t conquer all, that love isn’t taken as serious as it one was. It scares me to see how easy people throw away their families and their wives/fiances/girlfriends and I know I would be shattered if I ever dealt with the pain and broken trust that my sister, and many of my friends have dealt with.

Every time I try to heal to move on from my tormented past something else always gets thrown at me or someone I love.


Now I understand that we all go through things and the way we handle them reflects our future, however how can you stay optimistic when it feels like everything is working


Baby Me!

against you. Even if I some how overcame everything from my past the one thing I have always wanted will still be so far from my reach because of tiny little cysts that line my ovaries. I’m just so overwhelmed and unmotivated. My entire life just seems like a waste and there are so many days that I don’t want to get out of bed and try because it doesn’t matter what I do, say or take nothing gets rid of this pain. This feeling of being a failure. I’m so broken and messed up my body cant produce serotonin yet It will grow cysts. How am I learning anything being a sales associate/keyholder/cashier? I want to do bigger and better things in my life but my self doubts and past haunt me. I feel so lost and hopeless. Maybe one day I can look back on this and I’ll be married with kids and a career and most of all I’ll be happy.

Until then I’ll put my trust in god and dream of better days.

From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the rock that is higher than I” – Psalms 61:2