The Unspoken Goodbye

It's been a while since I posted. I knew what I had wanted to post, but I didn't have the words to describe the feeling that I wanted to convey. The Indian summer ended up being just that, a longer than usual warmness in my heart. It left quicker than snow falling to the ground when the cold came into my life, which painfully left pieces scattered behind. It took me a bit to reestablish my footing after so much loss. The losses felt in 2013 were none which were expected. No one prepares you for how death will feel or change your life. It's one of those changes that are indescribable and so unique to each person and each situation. I know that at 9:30 on March 6, 2013 my world changed forever and whether the boy wants to admit it or own up to it-or not; the boy spoke the words that changed my world forever.

No matter how hard I try to shake this memory it will always be a part of me...missed calls at a later hour. Finally, when I called the boy back he spoke those earth shattering words... "I don't know how to tell you this *LONG PAUSE* your dad is dead."

I may never fully understand why you were the one who was to be in my life to tell me such words, or to stand beside me on what was possibly one of the most difficult days of my existence if you were to leave quicker than my breath on a cold morning. I don't understand and it was months of wondering on top of my already heavy heart what could possess someone to leave someone they love in moments needed the most. I know it's impossible to know what you would do in a situation, but in a role-reversal; I would never leave you.

I played over the words you spoke up until the last conversation many times to the point of exhaustion. To the point of insanity. I will never understand but I have stopped trying to understand.

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& NOW on dreams and goodbyes 

Considered the father of psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud (1856-1939) revolutionizes the study of dreams with his work The Interpretation Of Dreams.Freud begins to analyze dreams in order to understand aspects of personality as they relate to pathology.  He believes that nothing you do occurs by chance; every action and thought is motivated by your unconscious at some level. In order to live in a civilized society, you have a tendency to hold back our urges and repress our impulses. However, these urges and impulses must be released in some way; they have a way of coming to the surface in disguised forms. 

One way these urges and impulses are released is through your dreams. Because the content of the unconscious may be extremely disturbing or harmful, Freud believes that the unconscious expresses itself in a symbolic language.

Alas, my dream of the unspoken words:

I was back in Thunder Bay for the end of summer. I was at a friends camp (however in dreams nothing makes logical sense and the camp actually belonged to my grandfather in my actual life). Strangely, only my NY friends were in Thunder Bay with me and my Thunder Bay friends were no where to be found. I recall the friend who owned the camp had all her friends out. One of them was my Indian Summer. I spent most of that evening with my speech friends and we lived in perfect ignorant harmony ignoring one another. 

He stayed longer than expected and when he was still there the following day I decided my words could not be held inside any longer. I needed to talk to him.

I asked him if I could please talk to him for a minute as he was surrounded with girls. He said no. I lingered knowing I needed to talk to him. I finally begged in front of perfect strangers to "please talk to me if you ever loved me." He agreed to give me one minute of his time.

I knew I only had a minute alone with him and so I summed up my confusion into a statement "How could you tell me I was the girl of your dreams, the girl you loved, your everything to ignore me the next day and never talk to me again." His response failed to answer the question, but place all blame of our failed relationship and my wrong doings on me. My response was similar to "at least I am and have been sorry for what happened-you have yet to apologize for what you did." At that moment many girls surrounded him and began talking for him and I knew the conversation had ended. They told me he would be taken care of by someone better than me and I wished them well.

I didn't leave immediately, I told him this "this isn't you and this wasn't the you I dated. I came to you to clear the air and to make amends because I have a good heart and I'm a good person. I hope when you finally realize what you have done my heart will be big enough to forgive you." With that they all laughed at me.

I began walking away but realized I had one more big thing that needed to be said. I walked up to him and whispered in his ear "by the way, I'm dating someone new and this was our goodbye."

                                                 

Your soul is still here,
I felt it with me today.
Thump, thump; goes my heart.

Those feelings of mine,

I sent them in a letter,

Silence screams loudest.

Home is in your arms,

It is not a location,

Wait until we meet.

Darling your with me, always around me, only love; only love.

Here, is my story. Be gentle.

Growing up in a home with addiction is one that is rarely spoken of. The fact is, it is extremely shameful growing up in an environment where the person, your hero, doesn’t love themselves. When a parent suffers from an addiction and underlying depression leads them to love you in the best way that they can, but hardly enough to fulfill your needs.

Growing up in a home with addiction is full of uncertainty. It is impossible to predict what each day will bring, which causes children to develop anxiety and depression. You’re sad that you have any control of your environment, and that no matter how hard you try the person you love doesn’t know how to love themselves. Your parent can’t see the greatness that you see in them. You watch their struggle. You try to cheer them on and be their brightest star; even though each day their pain kills you silently. You can’t show it because the addict already has enough to feel sad about. You paint a face where no one could even imagine the pain you feel once you leave school, work, etc. In fact, when you finally tell your closest friend about your life they have a hard time believing you. You learn to act in such a way that everyone thinks you have the perfect life. BUT you don’t.

You live a life where you either hate the addict, or you try to prove yourself to them. You try to be the very best at whatever you do so that maybe your feeble attempts at being perfect will make them realize they have succeeded. Ultimately you are the one who feels bad because no matter what level of perfection you aim to meet (and you do) you don’t win their attention, approval or love. As children you don’t understand it’s them not you.

We all develop coping styles to make it through each day. Times where we are frustrated with their behavior we may lash out. We may yell at them and tell them we hate them. Truthfully we don’t. We don’t hate them at all. We love them so much it hurts us. We hate their addiction. We immediately feel regret after showing our real feelings about their addiction and try to patch up our “ugly” feelings.

We have learned that “happy” is the best way to be. Happy doesn’t get questioned by teachers, or other adults who may wonder about our home lives. Feeling sad, or angry is put into a category of “bad”. We learn to push those feeings aside because we know they are unrecognized and scolded.

Growing up in a home with addition sucks! You lose your childhood. You realize quickly that you are taking care of your parent, and that they don’t take care of you. You feel broken inside. You begin to get used to a life of chaos. You worry every single day that they will decide to end their life, or based on their decisions life should take them away from you. AND realistically one of three things will happen, they will kill themselves, life will kill them from their abuse, or they will get better.

In my situation, my dad did not win his battle. WE lost. There were many stages to the grief of an addict. The first feeling I felt was the one I explained above. The second stage or feeling was anger. INTENSE anger. I was so angry I couldn’t be around him without every “bad” feeling I ever felt raging inside of me. I let him know in every situation possible how much I hated him. I felt no remorse for the anger I felt. 

The third stage I felt was bargaining. I was willing to change anything in my life for the addict to change himself. I thought if I forgave him for his inability to love the child that I was, and learn to accept him for the person that he was, then things might change. If nothing else I hoped to never have regrets. Life gives you chances to heal but it is up to you to acknowledge these opportunities and take them. After dad’s second near death experience we developed the closest relationship of our lives. We became best friends. 

The fourth stage I felt was major depression or sadness. The darkness that I experienced was my own. Only one person witnessed the pain I felt. I blocked everyone else out. J.K. Rowling compared depression to the dementors in Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling described the dementors as She describes this emotional state as the "absence of being able to envisage that you will ever be cheerful again. The absence of hope. That very deadened feeling, which is so very different from feeling sad." I felt worse then that explanation. Not even my own family knew it.

I realized eventually that his love and acceptance wasn’t coming. He wouldn’t save me from my pain. I stopped looking for him to give me the love I needed. I learned how to love myself even if he didn’t love himself or me the way I wanted him to. It started slow, but eventually we hung out all the time and talked every night. He still drank every day. The difference was within me. I was beginning to accept his illness. I would have loved him to change and live a long happy life. For whatever reason it was not in this life’s plan. I learned patience and honesty. I was able to tell him when I was disappointed in him and also continue to love him. He was able to see the pain his drinking caused by my own suffering and depression. He knew he could tell me anything and I wouldn’t judge him, but offer him my open opinion. For better or worse I stopped trying to change him. I realized that if you love someone, then you love him or her exactly the way they are. This means even if they aren’t who you want them to be you love them faults and all. You accept all of them.

Since this has occurred, he has passed. I truthfully believe that I had to let go of him before his soul could pass on. I consciously made the decision that I understood he was not happy here and that no matter where he had to go I wanted him to go where he would be happy, even if it meant I would be sad; that’s where I wanted him to be.

Days before his death I dreamt of a black crow being electrocuted. In a world where logic trumps emotions and spirituality this would have been overlooked. I consciously told someone about the dream and accepted the reality. The day my father passed away I was walking to school with the sun on my face and I knew. It was 8:10 in the morning. I had a very strong feeling that he would be taken from me soon. At 8:15 pm I texted someone close to me that I thought he was going to pass. At 9:30 pm I received a call from the same person I spoke with earlier that he had passed away. I cried until my tears wouldn’t come out. I realized everything that we had fought for was over. The fight was over. We lost.

Nothing you read, or people you speak with will prepare you for losing a parent. It is an inevitable part of life for the majority of us. When addiction is involved it adds another dimension. You wonder what your role in life is without them. You have only known how to take care of them. After they pass it’s almost as if you are recreating yourself.

In my situation I coped by hiding my emotions with schooling, and perfection. It was a blessing and a curse. I am and will continue to be successful, however I need to do everything for myself and not to cover up pain. I don’t know if I’ll be 100% “okay” but I fight every single day for myself and for others like me. I fight so that other children know that if they can learn to believe in themselves like I have, then they will succeed. I take healthy choices everyday, and learn to enjoy the simple things. Strategies that I have found helpful include counseling, music, writing, painting, and exercising.

There will always be a crack where that missing piece is, but with time and self-acceptance it can be a learning tool. I know when I do decide to have children that I will be the best mom possible. I also know that I won’t be the statistic and marry someone like my father. I have a choice and so do you. We have the choice to break the cycle, even if each step of the way is uncomfortable. If you take anything away from reading this, I hope you know that you are not alone. It does get easier, but it requires you, the child of the addict to do a lot of work. It will be painful, dark and scary but I promise you it will be worth it. 

**I hope you learn to allow yourself to feel every emotion “good” or “bad”. I hope you seek counseling and not view it as weakness. I hope you follow your dreams. Lastly, I hope you challenge yourself everyday to break the cycle of abuse and addiction. If I have helped one person through their battle then I feel blessed.

References I found useful:

After The Tears-Jane Middleton
ACOA-Janet Woititz

The Elements of a Star

She thought, I guess, "you lost".

Just like a star it burnt out in a second. One element evaporated while the others' couldn't burn as bright without the missing piece. Two souls, like any property in the universe needed a combination of elements to create that masterpiece.

She looks out the window and wonders what's the point of it all without love? After all that has happened she has to believe there is something greater at work. Why else would all that she love be taken? Is it really gone if it's still in your heart? Puzzled by life's lessons she prevails. 

After all, we hurt those we love most because we trust them not to leave. 

She looked in the mirror and didn't know where she went.

I miss the sparkle your eyes once gave me. It was then the elements of our star shone the brightest. I hope to see that sparkle again. One day, not today, but one day this will all make perfect sense. I'm sorry death killed my soul and took me from you too.

My Indian Summer.

It has been a few months of ups and downs, highs and lows; but isn't that how life is suppose to go? My life is possibly a bit more chaotic then that of the average person. Maybe, I am just trusted more by the stars above. They must trust me not to give up. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r8wNVk288R4

With many heavy winds trying to blow me down and deter me from my dream I rely on my strong navigational skills to remind me of the importance of trusting my intuition. Life seems to be trying to sway my views and make me see things differently then my usual routes. I look to my left and see an island, but get closer to shore and realize my thirst for the answer lead me to an illusion of the answer. I set back out to sea, not knowing which direction I am heading. I think I see many other islands, but I just don't know. The directions are all so unclear. I lost my compass months ago and am now relying on nothing but my intuition. Logic is eliminated and emotion has stepped in. Interestingly, my emotions have always frightened me as I tend to feel them so intensely. Now, I welcome them. They are my survival skill out of this sea.

If this chapter if my life were a season it would be a cold long winter. Each time I think I feel the warmth of spring the cold wind reminds me of the pain that is still left to endure. I've learned to love the winter. Not because it has become more comfortable being cold and feeling pain. Many people never feel the cold of winter. They enjoy the comfort of summer and spring and so they never venture into the winter. I think it's necessary we all experience the winter; the pain. How else do we expect to heal? To grow.

Perhaps people don't visit the winter because its uncomfortable and you don't know what to expect. I've always been a curious girl, and I jumped at the opportunity to explore the winter. I choose to go climb the snowy mountains and make snow angels, then scream as loud as possible to let it all go. I hope I feel the flood of an avalanche. Maybe, surviving an avalanche will help me realize which way is up. After I realize which way is up then I can start my trek back to the sun. Perhaps the sun will shine on my face like a warm spring day, or maybe it will burn my flesh like a hot summer day. Curiosity of the future excites me instead of frightens me. A new change that I have never experienced before entering the winter. Life is beginning to excite me all because I'm stuck in the winter.

All I know is that I'm a ship at sea in the middle of winter. In the distance I see my island, he's always been there waiting patiently for me to arrive. He believed in me when I didn't believe in my own internal compass. He loved me before I went into the depths of the snow and explored the parts I hid from him. He always loved me and as a real island he didn't move. Real islands can't move. They are lumps of rock that hold still. I love that about an island. No season can deteriorate them, except maybe rain. Even so, the island rock can endure so much that the snow of my winter hardly made a dent in the return from my trip. This ship has a direction, she sees the island in the distance and knows it will guide her home. The sun is warm on her face and once she arrives she can see the summer sun gleaming on the beautiful zenful island of the future. The snow will have melted from her soul and the warmth of the sun on the island will show her she never wants to leave. 

My Indian Summer.

I Did It My Way...

I made it through first year (barely), and am here able to finally write again. The next year of graduate school will still be challenging, but nothing compared to the year that just finished. It was horrible. I advice anyone who is considering a masters degree to really really make sure it is what you want to do with your life. It is the type of experience that will bend you to the point of breaking-and in the case of SLP class 2013-14 many did break. It became a regular occurrence to pass someone crying in the hall and implicitly understand that it's a bad day. Often times we did not need comforting, we just needed to let the tears fall until we realized there was work to be done and clients to see.

The best part about all of this is knowing that the worst is behind us! We made it. Sure, some of us failed clinic or a class and have to repeat, but overall it is nothing we can't handle.

I made personal gains through this past year as well. I feel so much more confident in who I am. I no longer view parts of myself as "bad" and accept myself. My faith has grown to an infinite level. I believe in life after this because of my father's sudden passing. I also believe with every ounce of my being that everything happens for a reason. I feel happy, blessed, and trusting of life.

Why I chose science...

The reason I chose Science over Art....

In today's society I chose science because science is a constant and it fulfills me in a way that art does not. It does not touch my soul but it puzzles my mind. I would rather spend a day of science and go home and paint.

Art is something that touches my soul. I would never want it to dictate my life. I could not want to have a boss tell me what to create. The constrictions would make me very unhappy. Part of what I love about art is that it is unique to how I feel in that moment and it allows me to express myself.

So maybe I chose the safe route. I chose science and I paint on the damn weekends.

We're All Mad Here

Hi loves,

I would like to update you all. I completed my stuttering and cleft palate course. I found it oh-so interesting. I must admit I had my doubts coming to this school and it's lack of modern views on areas that will continue to impact my career for years to come. However, this semester I feel much more satisfied with my educational experience.

The clients that I was assigned this semester are meshing well with my passion and I am ever so excited to help them succeed with their goals. I have a 6 foot something gentleman who stutters and another sweetheart with down syndrome. Yesterday, I thanked my mom for exposing me to individuals with disabilities so young. One of my first friends was one of my moms clients who had a developmental delay. Her name was Cindy and she taught me to accept everyone just the way they are. I love the diversity that is within our universe.

When people ask me what I do? What does a Speech Pathologist (in training) really do? The answer stumps nearly everyone in the field. It is difficult to put into words what we do. We look at the person that we are working with as if they were a puzzle. We have science that we need to apply to the individual but then we need to understand that each peson is as unique as a snowflake and therefore we must apply art. We must be able to look into the clients eyes and read what they really want to happen. We must help guide their goals and motivate their progress. We are helpers, teachers, counsellors, and scientists all in one profession.

To all of you who were wondering what I was doing out here in the world.

xo

My loves,

I am sorry for the sparseness of my writing and the inconsistency. I predict the remainder of my time at school will result in me going missing for periods at a time.

I have just finished my winter semester, which is different then Canadian schools. This was through the month of January where we took one class everyday. The class was on stuttering and cleft palate. I found it very interesting and felt affirmation regarding my career choice. Now, I get a weekend off and then I start spring semester AKA hell part 2. I plan to write again this weekend and hopefully inspire a few souls to reach out to those they love.

Love N

Maybe our eyes are the moon and our brain the stars.

I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer.
At night I fell asleep with visions of myself, dancing and laughing and crying with them.
Three years down the line of being on an endless world tour, and my memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times.
I was a singer - not a very popular one,
I once had a dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events some of those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.
But I didn't really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.
When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I'd been living, they asked me why - but there's no use in talking to people who have home.
They have no idea what it's like to seek safety in other people - for home to be wherever you lay your head.
I was always an unusual girl.
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean...
And if I said I didn't plan for it to turn out this way I'd be lying...
Because I was born to be the other woman.
I belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.
Who had nothing, who wanted everything, with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn't even talk about it, and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.

Every night I used to pray that I’d find my people, and finally I did on the open road.
We had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we desired anymore, except to make our lives into a work of art.
Live fast. Die young. Be wild. And have fun.
I believe in the country America used to be.
I believe in the person I want to become.
I believe in the freedom of the open road.
And my motto is the same as ever:
"I believe in the kindness of strangers. And when I’m at war with myself I ride, I just ride."
Who are you?
Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies?
Have you created a life for yourself where you can experience them?
I have. I am fucking crazy.
But I am free.

Snow is falling.

Happy New Years!

AH! Once again, I am back in Buffalo. I started my year off right with the personal promise to be more organized, and motivated. I promise no matter how busy life gets that I will still jaunt down some inspirational words to my readers.

A year at a glance...
2012 was a great one. There had been so much change in my life from 2010- 2012 that I really was not sure I could take that much more. That being said, it lead me to where I am right now. Defining 2012, could be summed up in a year of change. I learnt that the most important friend is myself, and that people will surprise you. Some people have coldness in their heart and will try to bring you down. I learned to forgive and let go. Friends will come and go, but true friends are always there. I got into my masters and nearly lost my mind from sleepless nights. I spent time with my family, and my new love. I learned the validity of 'we accept the love we think we desserve'. I vouched never to settle for less than I deserve ever again, and to be confident in who I am and what I want. I loved and lost. I loved and won. The most important thing that happened in 2012 was that I accepted who I am and I learned how to be happy. 

To all my readers, please never change who you are. If someone does not appreciate your being than it is time to part ways. We are each as unique as the snow falling from the sky. Love yourself the most, but be kind to those you meet.

-N-