Well - some 10 or 11 years later, I write.

My mom died in August of 2021. She declined so quickly in her last month, her health and body tumbling down a hill. Her younger sister had died on June 7th, having contracted another bout of cancer which could be successfully treated as the other ones had been. However, she was sick and tired of doctors and medication and decided to let the disease take its course - and her.

In October, one of the twin boys of my second cousin didn't wake up one morning. Five and a half months old.  In December, Linda finally succumbed to her cancer.

On February 13th my dearest heart kitty Oscar died here at home. 

I just hurt - I really, really hurt. Badly. I want a day off, a holiday. With Mom's progressive disease I was giving and giving for a few years. These days, I don't want to drive to meetings etc...I want someone to drive me, someone to take care of me for a bit. In lieu of that, I don't do much for others any more. I'm running close to empty all the time.

Time. I guess that's what it takes. And I do have some.

I hurt so much, so much...

Being a Dropout Hurts

It took almost two years - but I couldn't get back to 'taking what I liked and leaving the rest'. Greg's sermons were a bright spot in the services, but the rest of it was long, structured with the Nicene Creed and the Great Thanksgiving...even the music didn't appeal to me. I had tried to be part of the music team, but nothing in the music spoke to me.

After a crisis of faith two years ago, I finally just stopped going to services.

There are people I love and miss - and that really really hurts. However, I can't just show up for coffee time after the service to chat. I hope everyone is doing well.

At the same time - my number is in the phone book if anyone there loves and misses ME.

Leaving Japan Ripped My Heart Out

"Leaving Japan ripped my heart out!"

I woke up from a dream this morning, my eyes lightly crusted with unshed tears.

When I worked as a pianist and singer at the Ramada Hotel in Okinawa, way back in the late 80's, I had a stalwart and true boyfriend back in Canada.

Within a couple of months of starting my 6 month contract, I became aware that the manager of the French restaurant in the hotel found me attractive.

I found him attractive. In true Japanese style, soon the whole staff (all male) were inviting me out to "midnight bowling" where the manager was present. This was dating Japanese style, I guess. I was confused enough by trying to understand the subtext of the culture and my friends, but my Lonely Planet books hadn't covered this.

Certainly I was torn. I was loyal to the fellow back home. And the way things were for women when I was there (they legalized birth control not long after I left), I in no way wanted to live in that country as a woman.

He might want children - in that country, the pressure would be really on to do that. Although he didn't seem to be fond of young ones - he would demonstrate how his niece and nephew pulled on his beard during a weekend visit.

My very last night there, I was invited up to the dining room for a meal. This was a pretext. Kunio and a senior staffer were there. I didn't know what was going to happen. My boyfriend in Canada and my terror of the unknown welled up and with an excuse that I had to go, I hurried up and out - with Kunio and his staffer looking at each other in bewilderment.

Maybe it would have been a one-nighter; maybe it would all have been innocent. I had no idea, and I never found out.

The dream I had last night seemed to come out of nowhere. I was on board a ship - or in some sort of large tourist venue. There was a large convention in a huge hall with many many people - men - in black dress suits. One of the waiters came to where I was standing and I recognized him from Okinawa. We chatted happily but he shushed me and whispered, "Yakuza" (Japanese Mafia).

Outside, above the hall, I saw some people coming on board/entering the building (the entrances looked like the gangway to a cruise ship). I noticed three people - the first one a lady with short white hair, stylish and middle aged; the second was a clean-shaven man with smoothed-back, thick salt and pepper hair, more salt than pepper. He was turning to an elderly woman just behind him, arm out as if to shepherd her along.

I saw him just in profile - but thought it was Kunio, though I couldn't be sure. After they entered the area on the right, I went straight ahead to go up the gangway, but leaned back for a moment to see if I could see this man and confirm who it was.

He leaned back at the same time and we made eye contact. We each knew who the other was.

Some time later, a perky young blond woman met up with me on the ship deck. She wore no makeup, was short and petite, and so authentic and nice that talking to her was not painful. Her husband, Kunio, was behind her, then came up and held her, nuzzling her ear. This woman was happy, and had initiated the conversation with me, indicating that Kunio had filled her in.

I felt I could tell her what leaving Japan had done to me, but I also felt that Kunio was the one that should hear it.

Then Kunio and I were alone in a part of the deck out of the sun. He told me, "They killed everyone. I was the only one alive." This meant that the Yakuza had killed all the restaurant staff - why, no one knew. I said, "I saw -- " meaning I saw another staffer from the restaurant, but couldn't recall his name. "Okinawa-jin," I said, meaning he was Okinawan. "Much hair (it was quite bushy)." Kunio tried to recall the name, but couldn't.

Cut to new scene. Kunio and his wife on deck chairs, their legs up; me on a chair opposite them. I referred again to the restaurant killing - wondering to myself when it had happened, as some of the staff were still there when I visited some 10 years later - restating that it was the Yakuza.

The woman agreed - Kunio gave a cautious non-word response, in a Japanese style that said "yes" but not in a way anyone - including any lurking hitmen - could understand or prove.

I forget to who I said, "Leaving Japan ripped my heart out."


It did. I came back to my boyfriend in Canada. We stayed together as any infidelity had been guilt-wracked and emotional. But when my agent asked me to go back to Okinawa, my boyfriend and I discussed it. Apparently he said, "Let's see what happens."

Kunio had left the hotel when I got there - he was in a branch in Osaka. When I returned to Canada this time, my boyfriend had taken up with a woman who was a lawyer in Ontario's then-premier Bob Rae.

And after that, I had a few short relationships. All these years I have been pained with regret. And in spite of the marvels of the Internet, and some people I still know in Japan, I have not found him. And I have not freed myself to fall in love like that again.

If I had found him, I would say: "Kunio, I am very very sorry for running away from you on my last night in Okinawa. I was afraid of living in Japan, and did not want to betray my boyfriend in Canada. I heard you married a woman who has two children, a woman whose husband had died. I truly hope you are happy."

I did see him at another hotel where I and another Canadian pianist helped with the grand opening on Shikoku Island. He was there, and we did have a conversation where I asked, "So when are you coming to Canada?' He was going to arrange for tickets.

But we talked no more and nothing came of it.

I write all this in the hope that it will help me heal. What surprised me when I woke up this morning is that I never had told anyone of this. Perhaps I was unable to until now as the depth of the wound became apparent.

I then also knew why I had had it. In the past few weeks, I have been reorganizing bins and papers and a lot of stuff. I found mementoes from Japan, which I put in a box and thought about showing to a family I know who had visited there - very intelligent and educated people who I thought would appreciate them.

Finally, the gate opened, and the dream was dreamt.

ADHD

It's an acronym heard a lot these days - especially since the demolition of the myth that it only exists in children.

It is not fun being in my head. Not at all.

In a couple of hours I leave for my cleaning job at a chiropractic clinic. I clean there and at the doctors' house every 2 weeks to pay down my chiro bill.

There is a lot to be grateful for in this - but I really hate having to do it. I wish I could just pay the damn bill and have done.

I am incredibly late, for the first time in my life, in getting my taxes done. But...I will, and that may help my AISH application. Once I have that income, I can relax a bit and focus more on building my wellness business - yet AGAIN.

I wish I could finish something I start. I don't know why my mind is so tangled and doesn't "get it". I could cry, and have before - but why bother?

A good friend will be moving in the next year...I am losing good friends. OMG what the hell do I do?

Just sad today. Why do I sleep so much?

Irritable, restless and discontented.

Talk to my HP.

Other people in recovery have life miracles happening to them. Am I doing something wrong?

Being sober in spite of everything is a miracle. I will be grateful for that.

Where it started...

...as far as I know.

I was born in 1956. Forceps were commonly used for difficult deliveries (I was the first child) and they slipped, necessitating stitches over my left eyebrow. During a routine eye checkup some 30+ years later, I was told that my optic nerve was kinked. It was healthy, and working, but kinked. The optometrist asked if I had had an accident when I was a kid - falling off a bike, etc. I racked my memory and came up with nothing. I then recalled the forceps, and told him that I was a forceps delivery. "Aha!" His comment was immediate.

What else was damaged, however slightly, on that newborn brain of mine? I have lost another job, gone through yet another long round of meltdowns. My mind has great capabilities and potential; the outcome throughout my life has rarely, if ever, matched it.

If I am brain-injured - I will be seeing my physician soon - it will take a great deal of humility to swallow that truth. Yet it may explain my mental blind spot, and my inability to simply earn a living as so many people do.

To be continued.

Time to realize a few things...

I am not going to be famous or sought-after; no singing and performing career for me. I came as close to my dreams as I could. My old life of being an active addict did not help me take myself or my career more seriously, nor instilled the necessary discipline.

If I had it to do over, I would have recorded my CD in Vancouver. Also, I was in a real musical family in Ontario and starting to get into the folk clubs. :-( I had joy and confidence in performing MY material, because folk club fans totally expect and want that.

I will not be happily married - thinking about it, I am really not marriageable material. As someone I know noted, once you pass a certain age, you are invisible - unless you already have a partner.

A full-time thriving career of any kind is not to be had. I have the brains and talent, but have been tripped up for a lifetime with the ADD, Sleep Apnea and Dysthymia.

I want a new direction. It is not at all too late. But for what? I do not know.

I write all these to still the restless what-ifs. Those are done.

It is finished. A new road begins. Lead on, Creator.

Four Shiny Pennies

I had made a decision that was somewhat unwise, but provoked by some desperation. My credit card had piled up again...some were necessary expenses, in fact, all were - but I never had the earnings to pay the card back for its help.

Therefore, I went to my line of credit account, robbing Peter to pay Paul, and was going to transfer the funds sitting at 19% interest to the LOC at 3.75%. I logged in to the account - and there was not nearly enough space to do that. The interest alone was over $200 a month.

I went back to my carefully built checking account, which had a little more than enough to cover the mandatory $600 per month, and paid $500.00 on the LOC.

Again, I feel stuck. I can't see me having a corporate job. Yes, I can clear it off and then some by selling my place. I do want to, as crappy as the market is - and the condo fees are high enough in this building that it is a deterrent to potential purchasers.

This somehow ties in to something I have recently discovered about myself - that I don't like being told what to do. This was first mentioned in my presence a couple of years ago - and lately, I have realized what a pervasive curse that defect of character is.

I discussed it with a fellow member in my 12 step program. He and I grew up in very different families with one thing in common - total lack of control in our lives. He was manipulated and criticized mercilessly - I went wherever my family was transferred; my dad travelled a lot no matter what I did; and getting 97% on a spelling test was not good enough. (I can see that, as I got 99 or 100% with no problem if I tried just a little bit).

Whatever the reasons, I became overly sensitive to 'being fixed', or my mom helping me 'organize my place'. The message I seem to have received was this: If you tell me what to do, then it means I know nothing, am stupid, and am worthless. Invalid. Invisible, unlovable and useless.

That same trait has the potential to kill me, I have seen lately. When I was a teen, I remember thinking clearly that I could control my food, and no one could take that from me. The fact is - I have no control over people, places and things in my life.

Rebelling at what I perceive as being told what to do means I don't follow a running exercise schedule, even though I wanted for SO long to find a learn to run class. It means I don't follow any discipline regarding eating healthily and having a full and wonderful life. I am trapped by this defect - sore knees, fat body, fear. I feel horrid and powerless, unable to live my life the way I really want to. BUT THAT MEANS I HAVE GIVEN IN! (My distorted thinking). And any praise from others for becoming slim and healthy does not address the resentment within me. "FINE, I did what you/society/doctor wants me to do." This means I can be healthy or 'happy' (ie, unchanged within), not both.

Don't tell me what to do - for a career, job, anything. And here I am, broke for most of my life, with the situation described above.

My sponsor has a good idea - when she prays for a defect to be removed, she asks that it be replaced with its opposite.

I am game to do that. I don't exactly know what the opposite IS - but doing that will forestall the feeling of defeat and emptiness.

God - how this rebelliousness has hurt my whole life, every aspect of it. I don't even try to be fashionable or attractive, because I would be giving in to - what? How THEY say it should be done.

There is a job with a newspaper I can get - 3 am to 6 am every morning - and it can pay quite a bit. I think I had better try for it. I can do all the inventory in the world, but that doesn't change the fact I need a job and a decent income. I DESERVE that, in fact.

Today, I had $20 worth of points on my grocery store debit card, and $1.88 towards groceries from a gas purchase I made at the store's gas bar, and $3 in loonies. I purchased 4 items, and used all that; I got 4 cents in change.

I can still see the cashier handing my change back, bright copper falling from her hand into my palm. Four shiny pennies. Bright but with no promise and no profit. I put them in my change purse and left the store.