Opinions are like.........

Well, you know the saying, but what happens when your opinions are more than just simply your opinions?

Recently, I was confronted by someone... A "friend"  who had.. I guess you could say.. Cornered me? All on Facebook, too. Hah. I was asked about something to which I gave an answer to. I then got suddenly preached at about this thing which is a bit on the controversial side I guess you could say, and if there's one thing I dislike, it's when someone tries to shove their beliefs down my throat whether it's religious or political... Moral... Whatever. I dislike it. Most of the time, I just keep my opinions to myself, but when I get approached like that, or someone starts becoming a bit overbearing about those beliefs, let me put it to you this way: if you say "it's just wrong" it's kind of very irritating and I'm not gonna hold back.... Also, it hardly seems like a personal opinion, but rather, like you're stating a fact when it's just YOUR opinion that you're trying to make other people believe.

Now, for me, when I see something I don't like, for instance, an article about a local bridal shop that doesn't allow transgendered women (male to female in this case)  to try on dresses in the shop, I'll re-post the link to the article and state my feelings about it. Example: "I know where I WON'T be buying my wedding dress".... And not "I won't be buying my wedding dress here because it's wrong and you shouldn't either!"

I have many friends with opposing views from abortion (which I'm against) to gay marriage (which I'm for) and some other less intense things like music and movie tastes lol. When there's a debate, we will have our discussion knowing full well it's just a friendly debate. But then there are those that go south. Friendships have ended because of intense debating on opposing views. However, this one in particular ended very unexpectedly and sadly enough, it was because once the discussion appeared to be over, a friend of hers with a grudge against me had to chime in not only with her opinion on the topic, but also some personal attacks on my character and my mental disability (anxiety disorder and such) and there was no mediation from the girl who started the whole topic. When someone talks to my friends in such a way that's so disrespectful and despicable, I definitely take action. I don't allow anyone to talk to my friends the way my "friend" let her friend talk to and about me, therefore, she is NOT a friend. It's okay to have different opinions. Most of the time, if you can discuss your different opinions in a civil manner, it means you might actually be mature! But some people can't handle a debate, I guess... And some people can't keep their personal thoughts to themselves.

It's sad when we lose friends... But at the same time, we don't need people like that in our lives, and I made a promise to myself a few years ago that I'd never allow "bad friends" to stick around in my life. In doing so, I may only have a small handful of friends, but at least I'm guaranteed good quality friends. Quality over quantity!

Until next time, never settle for less than you deserve in a friend and in life. Always stick up for your real friends, but more importantly, always stick up for YOURSELF! Oh, and maybe don't be so preachy, eh? ;)


Toots McGee!

Not being good enough....

Last night, a friend of mine posted this to his facebook page

and it got me thinking... Great... Another phobia! The fear of not being good enough... it has to start somewhere, but... Where?

When I was a child, I never felt NOT good enough. I always felt great about myself. I was "smart", I was popular in school... Mind you, this was elementary school... But still! I went to a HUGE school that went from kindergarten to the 6th grade. It was enormous. It almost looked like a high school or even a college, and in this enormous school, people knew me. Students, teachers, other members of the faculty, simply because I would always sing in the talent shows. I was sort of shy, but also... very outgoing (that doesn't make sense, but the fact is, that's just how I was) I loved having students from the grades higher than me (who were mainly in the same grade as my older brother) asking me to sing for them. I loved that other students wanted to be seen with me and some were even jealous of me. It's nice to feel like I was someone special.

It's no secret that I'm a fan of the spotlight. It's like that line of the song Let Me Be Your Star from the TV show "Smash"

"Fade in on a girl with a hunger for fame and a face and a name to remember..."

That's basically me.

But then, we moved to Northern California (From Southern California) and I started the 5th grade somewhere where people didn't know me at all. They had no idea what I was capable of... I was always shy, and I would stay that way. I was bullied every single day at that school, and I didn't have my big brother to watch over me anymore. At one point, I was even choked, held up, and pushed up against a wall during lunch because I refused to kiss one of my classmates. I was scared, but I said nothing because I was embarrassed. Then, we moved again to a different part of the bay area. I had hoped that it would be a new start. Middle school! There was even an orchestra and band class I joined as my elective. I was in orchestra in my original elementary school and played the violin. Unfortunately, I was just as much of a loser there as I was in the 5th grade... Maybe even worse. On my first day, I was sitting alone at lunch. I wasn't eating... I was just sitting alone on the ground, and these 3 obviously popular girls walked up to me. They asked if I wanted to come sit with them, but I said "No thanks"... why? Because I thought they were just messing with me. I'm sure they were because they were the girls who always made me feel like I was a total loser. Why in the world would these popular girls want to be seen with me? I was a total nobody. They had all obviously been friends for a long time, so it seemed sketchy to me, and I didn't want to be embarrassed by them. As time went by, my grades were declining, and I was starting to decline as well, mentally. I had to take the bus to school and home from school. Our bus stop was at the bottom of a 3 way cul-de-sac which we just so happened to live at the very top of on a bit of a hill, so when I'd get off the bus, my brother sometimes would walk with me or ahead... sometimes not at all... and I'd just take that time to think about my life and by the time I'd get home, I'd go straight to my room, plop my backpack on the ground... plop myself on the ground against by bed, and just cry as quietly as possible. Once again, no one knew for the longest time what I had been dealing with at school because I didn't want to disappoint my parents. I didn't want them to know that their daughter was a total loser.

I had a few friends... But at one point, they found a "cool" friend and that "cool" friend thought I was too much of a loser to be associated with, so my only two friends who happened to be sisters, dumped me. Now, I was really alone. In school, I would hear so many different horrible things. One of the worst that has always stuck with me was "You're so stupid and ugly, no one's ever going to want to marry you" That one definitely stung.

With my grades being so poor, I had to repeat the 8th grade which meant more disappointment, but it also meant more bullying. Now, I was constantly being asked "how do you flunk the 8th grade?!" followed by giggles from the new 8th graders. I was such a huge disappointment... But more so because the bullying got so bad that I couldn't take it anymore. I told my father that if I had to go back to school, that I'd kill myself. Sure, that sounds super dramatic... but as it turns out, I suffered from depression (and would later come to find out I also suffered from anxiety and bipolar disorder as well as an eating disorder.) I was able to transfer to a new middle school and finish out my 8th grade year there... While I was there, people were finally nice to me!!!! It was very different. I wish I could say that I found my place finally, but sadly, my depression got the better of me, and I had tried to kill myself. I understand what suicide means now, but at the time, I just needed to escape my emotional pain. I ended up in psychiatric treatment for minors where they also diagnosed me as anorexic and wouldn't let me have the shoe laces for my shoes, nor could I use the washroom without supervision for 2 hours after eating in case I wanted to barf my food back up. But if you recall my second blog, I couldn't do it. That's not to say I never attempted it... I just could never actually go through with it once I felt it coming back up. I won't get into the rest because it's a very long story, but either way....................

Then, high school finally rolled around. I had friends from the middle school I'd transferred to during my second go at 8th grade.. I was somebody again, finally. I was actually going out and doing things. My friends and I had hangout spots, and every Friday, we'd go to the roller rink!!! It was awesome! THEN we had to move AGAIN! Still in the bay area.... just about a half an hour away. So, I never got to see them again. It was sad for me... To finally feel like I belonged to a group and then have to lose it when I'd been wanting it for so long. My new high school was... weird. I didn't like it! I joined choir... But I felt lonely still. Even though there were people who would ask me to sing for them much like wwhen I was in elementary school, I'd still feel lonely. I don't know what happened to me. I just didn't care anymore... And again, I felt like a disappointment when I ultimately dropped out of high school. Why did I drop out? Because I failed the 9th grade and was told I needed to repeat that grade as well. And so I did... but I did it through independent studies... where I made it to the 10th grade eventually... only to realize it was too difficult because when I passed the 9th grade, I wasn't passing because I learned all I needed to know; I passed because they couldn't hold me back anymore... I felt like I was set up to fail, so rather than actually failing on ttheir terms, I just dropped out to spare myself th humiliation of failing the 10th grade as well.

When I moved out here, I got a divorce within months of moving, I realized I was addicted to prescription drugs, I did get my GED but then a few months later went on to live in a homeless shelter. I had some relationships fail miserably to a point where someone even told me I made their life miserable and therefore I deserved to be miserable myself. I'd been told by multiple people that their lives were better without me in them. I've had a failed pregnancy; went on to live in a homeless shelter while I was pregnant with my daughter... I've so many failures in life, and I never accomplished anything for myself which has all led up to make me wonder if it's all just because I'm not good enough. Yes, I'm a mother, true. And that's great. But all the things I had aspired to do such as be a singer: Never happened. Be a model: It's... sort of happening, but not in the way I want it to happen... I actually want to model! I love having my photos taken from the photographer who does all the pictures I've had done, but the fact is, I'm likely not thin enough, tall enough, or young enough, and certainly not pretty enough to be an actual model. I also wanted to be a makeup artist: Sure, I'm doing people's makeup, but I'm still doing it for free and making no money off of it. I didn't want to be one of those wives/moms who gets money from her partner/spouse and that's it... I wanted to make my own money! When people tell you to dream big, do they mean "dream big... as long as it's reasonable still"? Because whenever I tell people my dreams, I feel like I'm always being told how unreasonable these dreams are or that I need to dream more realistically... So now what?

I'm turning 32 this year. I've accomplished nothing so far for myself... And why? Because I'm simply just not good enough for the things I wants. I've made attempts. I've sent demos into indie record labels, I've sent photos to local modeling agencies that accept email submissions. I've tried to build a portfolio. I'm trying to make the makeup thing happen, but it doesn't seem to be taking off too well despite the rave reviews my work has gotten from friends of the people I do makeup for. Esp ecially since no one will get their makeu done by me if I'm charging them. I just wish I knew what TO do rather than what NOT to do... and even then, the things I've been told to do, I've done em, and nothing. So does that mean I'm not cut out for these things? I don't know...

My daughter thinks I'm good enough... My fiancé thinks I'm good enough... and that's great! I totally love that I have such a supportive man by my side, and that my daughter is a sweetheart and thinks I'm totally awesome... I just somehow need to find it in me to be good enough for ME... I don't know how I'm gonna make that happen, but that's a new dream. I'm just hoping it's not an unrealistic or unreasonable one... Because I don't want to feel like this anymore.

Until next time...

Toots McGee

Diary of a... Pill-popper??

You know how sometimes you see those moms who "pop pills"? and you think "geeeeeez" and then worry about the child's well-being? Sometimes it's nothing to really think about, and then sometimes it's definitely something to be concerned about when you're a bystander... But then the other day, I saw myself doing something that I was kind of ashamed of...

I was feeling some anxiety as I usually do, but for some reason, I was feeling it during the day when normally my medication keeps me feeling good for most of the day, and I don't have to worry my meds until the evening comes... Usually by then, Aurora's gone to bed... But for some reason, I was feeling is during the day while Aurora was playing. I got up, went over to where I keep my meds, grabbed two pills (just as my prescription says to) and took them... RIGHT-IN FRONT-OF MY DAUGHTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know it's not the hugest deal on the planet, but she's at an age where everything she sees her parents do, or the things she sees/hears on TV or in movies... whatever... she imitates! It honestly made me feel horrible! I felt like a pill popping mother like the kind I'd see on the show Intervention... I never judged those women because I understood addiction... I just never thought I would be one of those women who'd do it right in front of her child. And believe me... She was watching. I didn't even give it any thought at all... At least not until I had gone to sit down... Then I was like "Wow... Did I really just do that??"

I know I'm not perfect. I make plenty of mistakes as a parent. I know many parents do. I never assumed I was better than any parent or mother... Though I'm sure there are some moms out there who I definitely am better than... Like the ones who starve their children and worse. Ugh. But, I felt so guilty because I labeled myself a pill popper.... Someone who takes every medication possible to ease or numb their pain and all feelings because the truth is, at that time, I was feeling so horrible that I just wanted my daughter's bed time to come at that very moment so I could rest rather than feel gross and have her come up to me asking me "who's that?" as she shows me her dolls... It's cute, but when I'm feeling like crap, I just don't even wanna hear air (Can you hear air?? Is that the same thing as asking what water tastes like? Hmmmmmmmmm. I'd make a great stoner! HAH. I kid.)

I know my medication is necessary.. I just wish I hadn't taken them in front of my daughter. It's like how I wish my fiancé wouldn't hold onto a cigarette the typical way people hold cigarettes... I never want my daughter to see him smoking because I don't want her to try to imitate it. She's already imitating things she sees on TV... The when Aria goes "shhhh" as she puts her finger up to her mouth during the Pretty Little Liars opening theme song... She knows lyrics to songs and has lines from movies memorized... Why wouldn't I worry she could and would imitate certain actions?

I guess it all just boils down to bad habits that need to be broken. I never want my daughter to think she has to do what mommy is doing because I know she does look up to me. I know she also looks up to her daddy. She thinks we have all the answers, and I don't want to set that kind of example for her.

Now, for some good news! I purchased a new microphone and recording software, so I've been busy trying to fiddle around with it and get used to it all. I've had professional studio equipment before, but I also wasn't the one handling any of it; my ex husband learned all of that. I'm just glad we have a huge walk-in closet that I can use as my studio.... it's honest pretty awesome :)

Anyways, that's it for me. I know I'm off by a couple of days. I'll try to get back on schedule right away... I just need to sort some things out, but one thing's for sure... I'm still gonna keep posting because I love it too much to stop :) Much love

Toots McGee!

A thank you letter...

So, I haven't been feeling so hot lately. I know I promised a new post every Tuesday and Friday, but wuddaya gonna do, eh?

I've been feeling a bit off, so I'm taking some time. I think that last post kinda brought me down a bit if I'm being honest. If I'm feeling better by Friday, I'll have a new post, but first, I would just like to say something:

I've had many friends message me and open up to me with their own stories and express their feelings because of the things I've written about, and those messages and friends are what make me want to keep writing. I've been through a lot which means I have a lot of stories to tell; many that others will relate to... Sadly. But my aim isn't to be a downer or throw a pity party and rehash the negative and bad things that have happened to me, but rather, it is to help others know they're not alone much like they have done for me once I've written my stories and sent them out into the world for anyone who is interested, to read. Sometimes, we're a part of a club that no one wants to be in or shouldn't have to be in, but it brings us all together, and that's not a bad thing. I also appreciate that people are trusting me enough to open up to me! And you can continue to trust me. More importantly, I appreciate that no one is judging me. Well, at least not out loud lol. But I definitely appreciate all of it.

Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for making it worth the time and effort I put into writing my stories. Sometimes they're difficult to write because it's hard to talk about things that were hard to live through (obviously, since my last one kind of brought me down a bit,) but in the end, the support is there now when it wasn't there before. So, I love you guys! I'll see you in my next post!

Toots McGee!

What it's like to lose a child...

A friend of mine just lost her second child. I've had many friends who've miscarried, some who've had multiple losses in a row, or had their baby born sleeping. At that very moment, you never know what to say or how to treat that person. To some, losing a child isn't a big deal because it was either unplanned or they lost their child very early on and they didn't necessarily see "it" as a living being to mourn over yet, and some just have their reasons...

I'll just say, right off the bat, I'm pro-life. I don't like to be preachy, so I also expect the same respect in return; that those who are pro-choice don't get all up in my grill about their beliefs, and why I'm wrong, and they're right, and how pro-choice is pro-women's rights and blah blah blah. I have lots of feminist friends, some are even male feminists, and we get along just fine as long as we keep the mutual understanding that we're never going to see eye to eye on some things. I'm also very open-minded. Born and raised as a Christian, I was taught to believe everything happens for a reason whether it's good or bad. That's fine. I'm older now, so my beliefs have definitely been customized to be my own instead of what I was told to believe or how I was told to think. But ever since I've been kicked out of two, yes, two different churches, both of which I was very involved in for 5 years each, it's hard to know what to believe. I just go by whatever I feel in my heart now. I don't subscribe to any religion, and I don't consider myself a "Christian" but rather, I just refer to myself as a believer (not to be confused with beliebers.) Anyways, I digress. Moving on...

In 2009, I started dating the man who would become my partner in life. I won't get into our story here because that's a story that deserves its own blog dedicated to how he turned his life around and how we turned our relationship around. We had broken up on October 29th that year, and I had been feeling a bit off, so I had asked him to buy me a pregnancy test before we ended it for good. You see, we had one of those juvenile relationships in our 20's where we'd break up then make up then break up and you get the picture. So the next morning, he stopped by with a home pregnancy test. It came with two. I took one, and it immediately became positive! At the time, I was living in someone's basement, so I had to go upstairs anytime I need to use the washroom, and I feel like I literally flew down the stairs running into my bedroom with the biggest smile on my face! For me, this was a sign that we were supposed to be together.

I had taken two just to be sure!

I took the day off from work after phoning my boss and telling her the news. She was actually very okay with me taking the day off because I wanted to see a doctor ASAP! We went to a medi clinic just to confirm everything (as if two positive pregnancy tests weren't enough hah!) and that came out positive as well. SO, it was official! I was pregnant!!! Immediately I started getting ahead of myself with gender and names and what the baby will look like... I don't know why it never occurred to me that it might not be a "forever baby" especially since when I was married, I had found out while I was in psychiatric treatment in California that I was pregnant. They needed to run a pregnancy test due to me needing meds and not wanting to harm the baby and all that jazz. It came back positive, but after a couple of weeks, I wanted to see a positive pregnancy test with my own eyes. I guess I just thought it would make it more real because for some reason, it felt so UNreal. The pregnancy test came back negative. I even took another, and that was negative as well. We went to an OB where they tested me again, and again, negative. We even phoned the hospital where the test had originally come up positive and they had no record of anything. They had explained that their system had crashed and so they lost some medical records. Geez. So I never knew what happened with all of that. It could have been a false positive, it could have been a missed miscarriage, it could have been a chemical pregnancy, who knows? Either way, I was very optimistic when normally, I worry about everything!

Things were going okay until November when my fiance and I broke up AGAIN. He had moved out, and I started cramping. I had posted on facebook that I was having these pains, and my friend and his fiancée offered to drive me to the hospital. They don't even live in the same city, and I only knew the male of the two. I had never met his fiancée before then... she might have been his girlfriend at the time... I can't remember. Anyways, they made the trip (not too terribly far out of the city) to come grab me and were even asking if I needed help walking... Just very very kind people, especially considering the fact that I hadn't talked to HIM in a while, but kindness is kindness... no matter what. They didn't just drive me to the ER... they stayed with me the entire time. I had an ultrasound and found out I was okay. I even got to see the heartbeat for the first time. I had also found out I was only about 6 weeks along.... it seemed a bit unusual, but I must have tested right when my hormone levels were where they needed to be in order to be detected by a pregnancy test. I also found out I had cysts on my ovaries which were the reason I was cramping. Where was the father of this baby anyways? Well, he didn't have a phone, and nobody was picking up where he was staying. I left him a message on facebook, but back then, he was a total jerk who thought I was faking the pain just so he'd feel sorry for me. It was disappointing because he missed out on seeing the heartbeat and hearing from the doctor herself that there was a reason for the pain. I asked if the baby was gonna be okay, and she gave me an answer that wasn't very satisfying "I don't know. It might, it might not." Thanks, doc! I went home, and I sobbed a little because I assumed I was going to be a single parent, especially since the father couldn't even be bothered to come to the hospital. All I know is, I'm still grateful to my friends who helped me that night. You know who you are. Thank you!!!

For a bit, everything was going okay again. At about 9 weeks, I was on speaking terms with the father again... but one night, I had gone to the bathroom and had some spotting. I figured it was okay cuz it wasn't anything too alarming looking. What WAS alarming was how I passed out after using the washroom... I had to crawl out of there and down the stairs and somehow get to my room. I felt better after some water, but I always feel like maybe I should have gone to the hospital that night. Not that going to the hospital would have changed anything had it been the start of everything, but still.

Christmas day rolled around. By then, my fiancé and I were talking about a relationship again and had started it back up. He even got me re-invited to his family's Christmas dinner. I don't really wanna go into all the details, but basically, there was a crazy misunderstanding, and no communication that day, and he and I ended up getting into a huge fight that night over the phone. I was hungry, and they hadn't even opened presents yet... so I was feeling a bit hangry (hungry+angry) not to mention hormonal. He hung up on me, which made me even more upset. I had no idea what was going on, so I kept phoning his sister's house where he was staying and where the supper was taking place. At one point, someone answered the phone and then hung up right away. That kinda got the message across that I wasn't gonna be going anywhere that night... well... I would... but not out to dinner. I started crying because it was not only clear that my boyfriend had just broken up with me on Christmas day, but also, that I was pregnant and alone on Christmas. Are you crying yet? Just wait. I started feeling chest pains, so I immediately phoned for an ambulance. They came and instead of evaluating me, they put me in a room where they keep the people who are on watch in the ER for mental illness. Why did they do that? Because they knew I suffered from anxiety and told me my chest pains were a panic attack. While I was there, they still took my blood and ran tests... but I was sitting alone, in a grubby room in the back of an ER, on Christmas. In all honesty... That room was where I belonged at the time because I didn't think anything could get more depressing than that. You have to remember that I have no family in Canada, and unfortunately I wasn't very close to my only friend because it's difficult to be friends with an ex who has moved on. The same ex I talked about in my addiction blog, and the same ex I'll be referring to as "my friend" in this one. I had no one to talk to and nowhere to go because it was Christmas and everyone was busy doing family things. When I got home via cab, which the hospital paid for, I cried some more... and some more... and basically just all night.

The next morning, I had to suck it up and go to work.. on Boxing Day. The busiest shopping day here in Canada. I worked at a shoe store at the time, and it was insane that day. I hadn't eaten since the night before Christmas (I was trying to keep my appetite for christmas dinner since I was told I had to eat or else I'd never be invited out to their family's holiday supper ever again) and I was also tired because I got home very late from the hospital. At one point, it was so crazy in the store, and I was such a snap show, that a customer who had been waiting to be helped for a while had asked if anyone was ever going to help her and I responded with "I'M PREGNANT, I JUST GOT DUMPED, AND I HAVEN'T EATEN ALL DAY!!!" I may have broken down a bit which I know is highly unprofessional, but the lady was actually very sweet and asked me to eat because I have a baby growing inside of me. So, I asked my boss if I could go grab some food. While I was at the store (I worked in a mall that had a drugstore near my store) getting food, I grabbed another HPT because I was so scared that all the stress was bad for the baby. At that point, I was 11 weeks and 3 days. The test came back positive, which made me happy, although at the time, I didn't know anything about miscarriages and hormones and all that like I do now. I had also finally heard from HIM... my new ex (who I'll be referring to as my ex in this blog post.) He told me he wasn't wanting to talk and just wanted to take a break from everything. *Sigh* I couldn't work anymore. I only had an hour left of work, but I left early because I just couldn't take it anymore.

The next day, I was talking to my friend (the ex from before) because we were sort of distant friends. We never hung out.... just emailed every once in a while. I don't really remember what I said to upset him, but he ended up telling me to not call him ever again. WHAT??? K, so, I lost my boyfriend, I lost my only friend in Canada... I was basically scared out of my mind about what was next to lose because all I had left was the baby I assumed was growing inside of me. I just wanted to crawl into a hole!







I refused to lose someone so special in my life, so I got in a cab and went straight to his house without asking. We worked things out, and I even brought the scrabble game he had bought me for Christmas. We were in the kitchen when I suddenly had to use the washroom. WARNING: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS AHEAD --- When I wiped, I noticed a kind of pinky peachy tinged discharge... it was a bit watery and had an odd smell. Smelled a little like bleach. Was very strange, but I took it as normal because they say heavy discharge is normal as pregnancy progresses. In fact, in my pregnancy with my daughter, I always thought my water had broken too soon and was scared the same was happening again because of this experience. I also thought maybe the lighting was making things look a little off in colour. So, we played some scrabble... and I kept feeling this discharge leaking out of me and the colour kept coming off as a peachy colour. So I phoned the healthline we have available to us here. The nurse on the phone suggested I go in to the hospital. I kind of wanted to wait a bit because I really didn't wanna hang out in the ER again when I was just there! But then the cramps started coming. So, my friend offered to take me to the ER. He went to start his car because it was winter time, and that's what people do in the winter... they start their cars 10 minutes before they leave lol. While he was out starting his car, I went to use the washroom again. That's when my heart felt like it had sank because that's when it was no longer a peachy tinged discharge... but a bright red colour. It was blood.

We left, and I was shaking the entire way. I remember the cramps started to get worse and worse, and of course, a stupid train was crossing as we were trying to get to the hospital. UGH! We get there, and it's fairly busy. My anxiety started to pick up with all the sickos at triage. I got registered finally after I let some people go ahead of me who looked like they were in bad shape... but also... I just was scared of what I was going to be facing in the hours to come. On one hand, I needed to hear what was going on, good or bad... on the other... I just wanted to hold onto my baby for as long as I could. Even just the idea that there was still a baby living inside of me... that was all I wanted. This is the point where it becomes a bit more difficult to write, and at this moment, difficult to see because I'm writing through tears.

I had to use the washroom in the waiting room. I really didn't want to, but I needed to. Again, I wiped, and there was more blood, all the while, I'm continuously trying to get ahold of my ex. I even wrote status updates on facebook hoping he'd phone me or message me. I finally got taken to a "room" which was thankfully the one on the very end because the washroom was just across my bed. My friend stayed with me the whole time. He didn't have to... it wasn't his job to look after me, but he did. I made another trip to the washroom and the bleeding appeared to have stopped, but it didn't really give me hope. My friend, bless him, was trying so hard to be positive for me.

It felt like we were waiting forever, and after a couple of hours, I almost wanted to go home. My friend went over to the nurse's station and yelled at them. Finally, someone came and took some blood. The doctor came to see me. He didn't know anything yet, but of course, he's a doctor... he sees these kinds of things and worse all the time, so he had the attitude of someone who wasn't really affected in any way. That's okay, I expect that from doctors and nurses. My friend had to yell at the nurses again because it was just taking way too long. By then, I wanna say we were there for maybe 10 hours? It's a bit of a jumbled blur. Even in the middle of the night, I was trying to get ahold of my ex. I knew there'd be no answer, but I kept trying anyways, and it wasn't long after my friend yelled at the nurse that the doctor came back and explained everything. You see, since I had just been to the hospital a couple of days before and had blood work done, they were able to compare my hormone levels from Christmas to that night... unfortunately, the levels had dropped significantly which meant I had lost my baby. I thought I was going to cry that very moment, but I didn't... the words he was saying sounded like they were coming from far away and I had that thousand-yard stare.... like all of my hopes and dreams had been shattered into a trillion tiny pieces in one quick little second. My friend cried before I did... and then finally when the words the doctor had been saying hit me... I was sad, but it wasn't until I went on facebook where people had been waiting for an update when it really got to me... When I finally broke down.



Writing those words in my status "Rest in heaven now" made it more real than when the doctor came to give me the news I'd spent hours and hours waiting to hear.

I couldn't sleep, so I asked a nurse if she could give me something to help me sleep. When she came back with some Ativan, she told me she had heard what had happened and that she was sorry for my loss... it was the first time a member of the hospital's staff had acknowledged that I had lost my child. I can't remember if I thanked her, but I remember being grateful for her sincerity. My friend had the option to leave and if he chose to, come back in the morning... but instead, he chose to stay since the doctor wanted me to stay overnight to have an ultrasound once the real morning had come (by real, I mean not the middle of the night). My friend slept awkwardly on the chair beside my hospital bed, and though I was medicated, I kept waking up thinking it was all just a bad dream... but unfortunately, I kept waking up in the same place which meant it wasn't a dream. From my bed, I could hear monitors beeping, and nurses walking by and talking... I could see the window that was on the other side of the room, and therefore, could see that the morning was almost here.

At around 7am, I got moved to a different room. It was an actual room. I then had gotten taken to get the ultrasound done and asked my friend to come with me if he wanted to. He was in there with me and held my hand... I couldn't bring myself to look at the screen. I don't know why... I just couldn't. I was tempted, but I knew there would be no heartbeat. I knew they weren't looking for one. I knew they were only confirming what the blood test had already said to be true. My baby was no longer living, and the ultrasound confirmed it. A doctor came in to tell me everything. I can't remember if she had told me when the baby had passed away, but she had given me a few options. One was a D&C (dilation & curettage where they dilate the cervix and bring the baby out) to which I said no to because there are risks. The second option was a pill called Misoprostol which I would have to insert up my hoo-haw every 12 hours and it would induce labour, and then the third option was to let nature take its course. I chose option number #2. She gave me 3 pills and told me she'd only send me home with them as long as I had someone to watch over me in case I started bleeding too much. I said that wouldn't be a problem. I had also phoned my ex at around 8:30am at his work.... I knew he couldn't hide from me there, and I was right. I asked his boss if I could speak with him, they went and got him, and I finally had him on the phone. I told him everything. He didn't believe me at first. He thought it was some sort of sick stunt to get him to talk to me and be around me. I had to break it to him that this was real. He got off the phone with me, and my cell phone had died, so I was unaware that he was trying to get ahold of me to tell me that he couldn't stay at work. He was too heartbroken. This may seem strange considering the way he'd been acting, and when you read on, it gets a little more confusing.

Despite everything, I was starving, so my friend stopped and grabbed us some food on our way back to his place because that's where I thought I'd be staying. When I finally was able to charge my phone, that's when I had seen my ex was trying to get ahold of me. He said he wanted to be there for me, so my friend drove me home. My ex came to see me and then mentioned to me that he couldn't stay for long because he was going to be hanging out with a friend.... Uh.... WHAT??? Regardless, I had to take my first round of this pill, and within a half an hour I started cramping. But that wasn't even the tip of the iceberg when it came to pain. My ex promised to come see me the next day, and even though my friend had been taking care of me for 15.5 hours in the hospital, I had no choice but to ask if he would watch over me again. So, he did. I felt horrible for even asking, but he didn't seem upset. If he was, he didn't show it at all.

At around 5am, I woke up to intense cramping. I can't describe it, but it was like nothing I had ever felt before. I had to somehow make my way to the washroom. WARNING AGAIN: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION AHEAD --- I had made it to the toilet with an urge to push... which I did. I was about to give birth to my child in a toilet... Can you imagine that? Can you imagine the guilt I felt for giving birth in the same place people go to... do gross things... I honestly was mortified at the whole situation, but even more mortified at what I saw as it was coming out. I actually screamed for my friend who was sleeping. He rushed in and held my hand as I pushed. Imagine going through labour and then having to get up and walk away from the tiny little body ... because if you had to live it, you wouldn't be able to sleep for the next few nights. As I was leaving the washroom, I felt sick. I was still in a lot of pain, and I was feeling very weak and lightheaded not to mention nauseated and emotional. My friend rushed to get me some water, but not before I rushed to the bed so I didn't faint on the basement floor which was cold hard concrete. I remember needing to breathe as if I was in labour. I'd get these waves of pain ... contractions. My friend was laying beside me holding my hand letting me squeeze as hard as I needed to, and  he was trying so hard to help me calm my breathing to something that wasn't hyperventilation. I was also thinking "he shouldn't be the one doing this... this wasn't his burden.. this wasn't his baby" as well as "I'm going through all of this and yet my arms will remain empty when this is all over" Usually when you go through the pains of labour and delivery, it's worth it because you leave with a baby... But not this time.

I've never been able to thank my friend enough for what he did for me that night... well, actually, that week. My ex never did show up the next day claiming he had car issues. But on top of that, he wouldn't take my calls or answer my messages. I'd leave messages with his sister that he claims he never got... Maybe he didn't. It doesn't matter at this point. On new years eve, because I had to take a week off to recover as well as other things that happen when you miscarry, I thought maybe I was done with everything. I hadn't pushed anything out in a while, so I figured it was okay to finally start doing things. I asked my friend to dye my hair lol! Which he did, and he did a great job! I decided to get a piercing... so I went and got a vertical labret which looked super awesome at the time hah. I also went and got a little haircut at the mall and my friend bought me a shirt! I stopped in at work to say hi... I'm not even gonna lie, I went out in pajama pants and fuzzy boots wearing a toque over my head. I looked like crap hah! But wuddaya gonna do?! At least I was trying to move on with my life. Unfortunately while we were at the mall, I started feeling like I had more to push out. We booked it back to his place where once again, I was traumatized by what I saw in the toilet. It was frustrating because anytime it seemed like I was done, I'd find out soon after that I wasn't. What else was there to push out of me?? I don't even know. It was just... I can't even explain it.

We played Rock Band the Beatles edition (anybody remember rock band??) into the new year, and about an hour after midnight, I finally get a message from the ex. He was apologizing for acting the way he was acting. He said the whole thing sent him into a shame spiral because he realized how horrible he was acting, and that he wasn't there for me during the time I needed him the most. He seemed pretty depressed

We agreed to meet the next morning, so he came over, and I told him how I felt... what had been going on, and he promised to be there for me from then on... A promise which he kept. The rest of that part of the story is for a different post though.

After I miscarried, I had a lot of people telling me it was for the best or that it wasn't the right timing... that everything happens for a reason. And while that may be true, at the time, that wasn't what I wanted, or even needed to hear. I got so angry with some of my closest friends and even my mom and brother for acting like they were relieved. I was just angry though. I was angry at God, I was angry at my ex, I was angry at myself.. I was angry at the entire world!!! I couldn't understand at the time that maybe it was for the best, especially because if I had had that baby, I wouldn't have had my daughter! And my daughter is AWESOME even if she does act like a demon possessed toddler ever since she turned 3 (ugh) but in my heart, at that time, there was no good reason. I lost friends due to my anger. Thankfully I was able to gain them back after I settled down a bit and realized it wasn't their fault. They weren't being bad friends. My mom and brother even deleted me on facebook! Again, it's not because they're bad family members or friends.... it was because I had failed to see that they were only trying to comfort me the only way they knew how. But for the record, it's not okay to say things such as "it was for the best" or "your baby is with God now" because while someday, those words will be true or comforting, they also can be very angering and cause resentment towards the man upstairs... Because I wanted my baby to be with ME, not Him. And to lose all of that in just a few days.. one right after another... it felt unfair. It felt like God was picking on me. I kept asking what I did wrong! If I had eaten those days I didn't eat after Christmas, would my child have lived? If I hadn't stressed out so much over everything, would I be taking care of a different child than the one I have now? I don't know. Probably not. I even had someone (someone my fiancé had known) tell me I faked my pregnancy and faked the miscarriage. I tried explaining how that wasn't possible, but this person just would NOT believe a word I said. She kept saying I was poisonous for him and that I'd end up hurting him... It was horrible to go through all that I went through and have my pain invalidated by someone. It was so frustrating!!!

Let me break it down for you: When a woman finds out she's pregnant, she starts to dream about her child. She starts making plans and having hopes for what their future will be. I'm sure there are men out there who think the same way, but a woman becomes a mother the second she finds out she's pregnant. Many times, it's as soon as she starts trying to have a baby. Why do I think that? Because we're carrying another human being inside of our bodies. Every decision we make affects our unborn child. We start making better, and more responsible choices because it's not just "MY life" it's "OUR LIVES". We're already taking care of our child and bonding with them. They're comforted by the sound of our heartbeat and our voice. They're nourished by the food we put in our system. When we stress, they feel it. Then when they're big enough to start feeling their movements and their kicks, it's like these little signs that let us know they're okay, they're just making themselves comfortable. All of these things are thought of as soon as a woman finds out she's pregnant, and when that gets taken away, it's devastating. It is literally crushing our dream. So please think about that the next time you are trying to comfort a friend who has lost a child because it's helpful to understand where we're coming from.

I'm not, nor will I ever be happy that I lost my child, even though I have the world's coolest kid now.... it still hurts. It will always hurt. It just gets a little easier each year. I will always consider my daughter to be my second child even though I may never say it out loud. Someday, she'll know she has a brother or sister who lives far far away in heaven. When she's old enough to understand, of course. But right now, I'm just grateful that I had my rainbow baby, and I truly hope that anyone who has ever experienced the sting of losing a child whether it was a miscarriage, or a baby born still, or a baby that left soon after being born... whatever the situation, I hope and pray that your heart will mend or has been mended. I won't say there's a reason for everything. It's not my place to say because some day, everything will fall into place and you'll see it all for yourself. But if you're hurting from a loss, just get your feelings out however you need to. If you need to scream and cry and curse at God or whoever/whatever you believe in, then do it. And if you're someone witnessing a friend's loss, let them do that. It's what they need to do in order to heal. I know this has been a long blog... more like a short story, but if you actually read through the entire thing, then I thank you! And congrats for making it all the way, lol.

Until next time

Toots McGee!!!

P.S If there are any typos or grammatical errors, please excuse them. This was a hard one to write, and I kept having to stop to wipe away tears. I'll try and go through it later to fix any mistakes if there are any. Much love.





A quick note

Just wanted to drop by to say I started a beauty blog and created an About Me page. The about me page includes all of my social media links! Please stop by both pages if you're interested in stalking me and also if you're interested in beauty! Thanks a bunch!

I'll be back with a new personal post on Friday! See ya then!!!


Toots McGee!

Being a mother....

Truth be told, I had different plans for the topic of today's blog, but I ended up going with a different topic for two different reasons. One is because my threenager is sick with a cold that was passed down from her father, then to me, and now to her. Ugh. The other reason is because of a conversation my best friend and I had earlier.


A sweet moment captured between mother and daughter

Earlier tonight, my best friend and I were chatting about how my fiancé and I have discussed having another child. At first, he was strongly against it, but now, we're at the point where he'll at least think about it and weigh what he believes are the pros and cons of having another child. Anyways, my friend and I talked about how I really do want another some day, but how I'd feel guilty. When she asked why I'd feel guilty, I explained to her how I don't want Aurora to ever feel like she's less important or less special given the fact that when I was pregnant, I never had a baby shower; I never had maternity pictures done; I didn't have any pictures (except one) of me holding Aurora in the hospital when she was born. I didn't get any cute professional newborn photos done of her like I wanted to... And most importantly, my fiancé  wasn't around for the first 9 months of her life. He was a bit more hands on after 4 months, but that was only because I had to stop nursing her which meant he could take her overnight at his place. Before then, he rarely saw her because he was kind of a jerk. And in case anyone is confused, my fiancé and I were not together  throughout the 3rd trimester of my pregnancy. I'll be saving that story for a blog of its own, but I just want to make things clear that my fiancé went through a lot of great changes at the 9 month mark, hence why once 9 months rolled around, we got back together, and since then, we've been a very happy and healthy couple. But again, I'll devote a blog post just about that some day.

Even once we were together again, we weren't living together, so he didn't get to see Aurora the way he sees her now which is every day now that we are living together. And it would make me feel guilty if our new baby got everything Aurora didn't get. In talking with my friend, she gave some great advice: To just include her in everything! Not sure why I didn't think of that, but it's definitely a great idea. Have her help with the baby shower! Have her in all the maternity pictures. Have her in all of the newborn pics... Well, maybe not ALL... But just include her and make her feel special, too. And someday, if she ever asks, we can explain to her what happened and why she never got any of those things for her. None of them will hurt her, so I see no harm in telling her if she ever asks. If she doesn't, we'll let it be.

I love being a mother. I really do. And I hope someday that I will have two beautiful children! That Aurora can have a sibling. A friend for life! I love my older brother! He's like my buddy sometimes, and even though I never see him because we live in different countries, I still love chatting with him through Facebook and texts. :) Being a mother isn't easy. It can get frustrating... Especially when they're newborns and can't communicate. Then they're toddlers and they're a bit... Uh... Crazy? Yeah, crazy is a decent word, but it's like.. A different kind of crazy, lol. They can communicate, but they are picky and can't make up their cute little minds! And pregnancy isn't fun either! Then there's childbirth.... It's hard to imagine why any woman would WANT  another child after going through it once before and knowing what you'll be in for. But the truth is, being a mother is my favourite thing ever! Aurora loves to challenge me... And I love that about her! I love the challenges she brings me, too! She's so funny, and sweet, and she loves to sing to and with me, which is a huge, and literal dream come true! It's all worth it to me! I know what I'd have to deal with, and I don't mind it because I have a lot of love in my heart, and I just wanna share it someday with another little one! I'm not saying I wanna have a baby soon like.. In 9 months lol. But once Brad and I get married, which we still haven't even set a date for, I wouldn't mind trying for another.

I wonder if any other parents with more than one child has ever felt guilty at any point in time for whatever reason(s). Is it normal to feel that guilt? I don't know! I just know that if I'm ever lucky enough to be blessed with another child, my love for Aurora won't change, and my love for my new child will still be very strong.

Until next time!

Toots McGee!

Watch Aurora's 3rd birthday tribute video (not available on mobile, sorry!)

Nearly 7 years ago to the month...

A friend of mine recently started her own blog post as well, and as I read it, it inspired me to write about my own experience on the topic that she had written about. Before I get started, I just wanna state that this will NOT be an easy read like my first post. It's a bit of a novel, but it's my blog, so I can write as much as I choose. You don't HAVE to read it. Moving on...

Nearly 7 years ago to the month, I was admitted to one of the local psychiatric facilities here in Saskatoon. A lot was going on at the time. For one, I had just recently gotten rejected by Canadian Idol; being told I couldn't sing was the most devastating things I could ever hear because it was the only thing I thought I was actually good at... it was also the only thing that made me happy. I thought it was my purpose in life to be a singer. So, that basically tore me apart. On top of that, my soon-to-be ex-husband and I were going through the beginning stages of our divorce. It was, as many are in the beginning, messy. There was a lot of drama, and there was also a lot of money issues on my part... being that I had none. Money, that is. I was also seeing someone. We didn't have the healthiest of relationships which I suppose is what's to be expected when one of those people is still legally married.. But if you remember my first blog, you'll remember I mentioned reasons for staying, and for coming back any time I'd leave the country. The boyfriend I mention throughout this post was that reason. Anyways, all of these issues combined with my anxiety and depression made for a potentially lethal cocktail of problems, but it was only about to get worse...

I had just been admitted to the psychiatric facility for depression, which I need to add briefly, was not my first time since I'd moved to Canada... It was more like maybe my 3rd or 4th (I don't say that with pride, just stating a fact) and this time was a little different. This time, the drama didn't stay outside of the walls of the hospital because even though there were a multitude of things that had brought me there in the first place, many of them needed to be addressed as soon as possible. I couldn't escape my issues even though I was supposed to be kept safe and take a break from them in these hospital walls, and many times, I wished I wasn't there so I could have had the opportunity to carry out the plan I had had to end my life. It was all too much!!!!

Before I went into the hospital, I had been taking clonazepam on and off for about 5 years. Anyone who knows anything about benzos will know that they're not meant to be taken for long term use. Also, anyone who knows anything about benzos will also know that the withdrawals for them are absolutely miserable. I took them because I thought they were helping my anxiety, and I'm sure they did at one point. But then came the day, in the hospital, when suddenly the administration of that particular medication would stop coming in the little plastic cup that came with the rest of my meds. I didn't understand what was going on, so I asked a nurse about it. She had to look into it a little bit, but I was later told that my psychiatrist would no longer be giving me clonazepam. At the time, I had no idea what I was in for. I was mainly concerned about not feeling anxiety anymore. I would like to name off some of the symptoms my anxiety would cause in order to try and help you understand why this news was a bit scary to me:

Uncontrollable tremors (that resembled seizures)
The inability to swallow
Nausea
Stomach pains
IBS
Dry mouth
Racing heart
Sweating
Feeling like the walls are closing in
Feeling flush
Racing thoughts

all of which can graduate into a severe panic attack which is basically the same symptoms listed above, PLUS feeling like you're literally about to die. Many people (those who have no idea what anxiety feels like) think these feelings are easy to brush off or "will away".... but once they've already gotten to a certain point, there's no reversing it. It just has to run its course. Without my medication, I had no idea what I was going to do. Then one day, I knew exactly what it meant to be taken off of my medication cold turkey... And it would be a LONG 5 months of torture...

While I was in the hospital, I started getting sick. I thought it was my anxiety. Little did I know it was actually withdrawals. I started dry heaving. Not too often just yet.... only a few times in the span of a week. I wasn't a fan of it though because something many people don't know except for a few select people is that along with my anxiety (In conjunction, actually) I suffer from a phobia called emetophobia. Emetophobia is described (on Wikipedia) as "an intense, irrational fear or anxiety of or pertaining to vomiting. This specific phobia can also include subcategories of what causes the anxiety, including a fear of vomiting in public, a fear of seeing vomit, a fear of watching the action of vomiting or fear of being nauseated" Click hear to read more on the phobia for a better understanding! So you can maybe see why this was the worst thing that could possibly happen to me. It wasn't the best time for all of this to be happening, either. I'll explain in a bit. I had asked to be discharged AMA (against medical advice) because I felt that if I was going to be getting sick like this, I wanted to be somewhere comfortable. The hospital was providing no relief for me, so I wanted to go home. They did release me, and as I was waiting for my ride "home" (I was going to be staying with my boyfriend for a bit), I started dry heaving again! This was the beginning of my fear of riding in cars/buses, etc. and I had to bring a plastic bag with me just in case the dry heaving evolved into more. I was absolutely miserable. I honestly didn't know when it was all going to end. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I could barely drink anything... I started growing weak! I couldn't even go anywhere without needing to bring a bag along with me because I couldn't control the dry heaving anymore. Like clockwork, it would start every few minutes. I had to sleep sitting up so that I wouldn't have to rush to sit up when it started! I had to sleep with a garbage can beside me! I was getting desperate. So much so, that I started making frequent ER and medi clinic visits where they'd inject me with gravol (which hurt like crazy, btw) and then send me home with medication to take the edge off. I remember not long after being discharged from the hospital, I had asked my boyfriend's mother to drive me to the medi clinic. She did... and while we were there, my boyfriend was in the room with me as I blatantly lied to the doctor stating that I had ran out of clonazepam... I failed to mention that my psychiatrist took me off the medication on purpose. The doctor prescribed some for me though, and I was happy... Until I saw that my boyfriend wasn't. His mother, who was waiting in the car asked what happened, so of course, he told her. She had advised me that if I continued to do this, I would end up being listed as "DS" on my medical charts, and doctors wouldn't want to prescribe medication to me anymore. "DS"... Drug seeker. Why was it at that time when it suddenly hit me that I was a drug addict? As I was about to type that out just now, I had to take a moment... because writing it was a little intense. I was a drug addict... And at first, I heard the words "Drug seeker", but I didn't care... I just wanted to feel better. I wasn't even taking clonazepam because it was helping my anxiety. I had been taking it for, God knows how long, because it made me feel normal. My boyfriend had to lay down the law and the tough love and give me an ultimatum which was that if I filled that prescription, he would never speak to me again. I took a moment to think about it... Why did I take a moment to think about it? What's there to think about? It's someone you love versus the addiction...??? Ultimately, I made the choice to not fill the prescription. In making that choice, I went through months of agony. BUT, it was the right choice. The sad thing is, it's not the first time or even the last time I've been addicted to a medication. Anyone ever hear of a well-known sleeping pill called Ambien? That stuff could be (and probably is) sold on the streets because it's basically just like any other drug that makes people do crazy stupid things.

As I mentioned before, I was so sick from my withdrawal that I couldn't eat and was carrying around a bag everywhere I had to go. I rarely went anywhere, but there was a meeting I had to make. It was with the divorce lawyer. My ex husband had made it/was paying for it, and I couldn't miss it. I lived in an apartment building with an elevator at the time. My ex husband came up to get me, and he literally had to hold me up to walk me over to the elevator. When the elevator reached the main floor, I fainted. His frustration caused him to get angry with me because we were on a time crunch, but basically, he had to carry me out. --I know you're reading this, and I'm sorry. I know it was a long time ago, but I'm sorry-- We made it to the appointment on time, but yeah... that wasn't fun. I was at the end of my rope at that point. I was so tired of wondering if all of this would ever stop.. if I'd ever feel normal again.. if I'd ever be able to go somewhere without a bag in hand looking like a weirdo.. if I could ever eat. I wondered if I'd ever be able to sleep laying down again. I got so wrapped up in all of it that I wrote out a suicide letter. I actually came across it not too long ago, and as I read it, I thought "wow... I almost killed myself over something that ultimately got better with time" I suppose I kept it as a reminder of how things get better if you just give it time.

So, what was the final outcome? Well, I moved out of the apartment I was living in and stayed with my ex husband in the house we had bought together and his new roommate who he's now married to, by the way. And to answer your possible question, no, it wasn't awkward. His new wife is a sweetheart, and she let me stay in her room and even use her computer. She was very welcoming and even bought me flowers and a card and wrote me a little letter which was such a kind gesture. She knew I was going through a lot, and once I was finally feeling somewhat better, she even helped me look at rooms for me to rent. She also did the ultimate thing for me which was tell me about a school for people with learning disabilities who were wanting to get their GED which she was just finishing up. At first, I didn't think much of it... was just something to think about. Once I had found a place, I was starting to feel much better.. Then I had spent all of my divorce settlement... so it was time to find a job. I hated it!!! That's when I realized maybe I ought to re-think the GED course. So, I did that, finished the course after taking the GED early and passing, and then... well... things took a turn again..

The thing is, anxiety is a part of my life. I'm not gonna lie; I often look at people who can go about their daily lives with no issues... they can go to a movie or out to dinner with friends. They can go to a party or club without a care in the world. They can ride on buses and trains and take road trips...  and I feel a certain amount of envy... because I can't imagine what that feels like. I can't imagine what it feels like to NOT feel anxiety. For as long as I can remember, I've had anxiety, it's just that when I was younger, I didn't know it was anxiety. And who would ever think a 6 or 7 year old was suffering from anxiety attacks? Look, I could go on and on about all the different times anxiety has affected me or ruined my life and all the different opportunities I could have had, but I'm not going to. Instead, I'm just gonna say that while anxiety is a part of my life, it isn't my life. My life is my future husband. My life is my daughter. My life is my amazingly supportive friends who know all of this about me and yet don't hold it against me or think any less of me. My life is... well, it's MY life. It may not be perfect, but at least I have one that I can be thankful for.

When it comes to my addiction... I just try to take it one day at a time. I make sure to take my meds exactly the way my psychiatrist (I see someone new) has prescribed them to me, and try to avoid temptation. Thankfully my fiancé is good at keeping me on track, and I also need to do right by my daughter. She needs me... I don't want to be like the mothers I see on shows like intervention or the ones I read about in the news who neglect their child(ren) because of drugs. People think just because it was prescribed by a doctor, that it's okay... that it doesn't count as drug abuse. But it absolutely does. People have died from addictions and abuse of prescription medication which means it definitely counts and definitely matters.

If you or anyone you know suffers from addiction, please either encourage help, or get help! I can't promise you that it's an easy road, but it's definitely one worth taking. And if you suffer from anxiety, talk to someone! Whether it's a counselor, or even a friend.. because you might come to find that they know exactly how you feel and thought they were alone. You guys can offer each other support, and God knows we need that support and understanding.

Until next time, hug the ones you love because you never know... they might need it so very much ;)

Toots McGee!

Added: I just want to add something really quick here. I have no idea if ex boyfriend and his mother will read this. We're keeping in touch, but I don't know if they're reading this. If you are, I would just like to say I'm sorry for all the grief I caused back then, and thank you for being so wonderful  to me. Tough love is never easy. And at the time when all of this was happening, I'm sure it was hard for me to see things the way they were. I'm not naming any names ever on here, but I'm certain you know who you are... So thank you. Xoxo

Where to begin...

Well, to start, HI! Okay, so here's the scoop: I'm not a writer... I'm not really skilled when it comes to technology or the internet. I just have waaaaay too many thoughts, likes, dislikes, and things I wanna say. So forget the big words or creative writing because chances are, you won't find that here. Anyways, moving on...

Who am I? I'm a 31 year old mother of a threenager (look it up... It's a real thing, yo!). I live in Canada, but I'm originally from 'merica.... California, to be exact. I'm just gonna get it out of the way cuz I'm not gonna lie, I'm sick of the question "what brought you to Canada??" as if I'm absolutely insane to leave sunny California to live in the freezing cold Canada, which, might I add is only freezing cold during the winter! Sure, that's almost most of the year... But whatever summer we do get, it's bloody hot!

Anyways, back to why I'm here. So like, a long time ago, I met a guy from Canada. He was working in California on a work visa. I met him on friend finder (hah!) and after a year of dating, he proposed, we got married a few months later, and then after about a year or so, he thought it would be a good idea for us to move to Canada. I was like.. Um.. No? My family and friends live here... But I didn't really have a say because he had gotten a job pretty darn fast. He wanted to live close to his family... Close to where he grew up. The job was is Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Yeah, I didn't even know how to pronounce or spell Saskatchewan until I met him.. In fact... I didn't even know of the province... In fact..  Okay, I better stop there before I start sounding dumb. Anyways, I said my goodbyes to my family, and then we were on the road for about 3 days. Obviously, stopping for food, gas, pee breaks, and sleep.... But in a uhaul truck... Oof, I should have asked him if I could fly out here and meet him at the airport... I don't think I was thinking too clearly at the time. I was a lot younger back then. Very early 20's. But anyways, we made it to Saskatchewan safe and sound beginning of August. I think it was 2005.... I honestly can't even remember.

We stayed at his parents' condo for a while which was normally inhabited by his 2 younger brothers, but they were out of town for a while. In the mean time, we looked for a home. We didn't just look for something to rent... We were looking for a place to call our own. So, we found some brand spanking new townhouses that were being built in a newer part of the city. This didn't bother me. I like new. But I'm gonna be honest... I wasn't happy. I was already getting homesick. We moved into our new home once it was ready that October. It was nice. Technically, I was living a dream... But I was lonely. My husband was at work all the time, and because I was in a city I didn't know with no friends, no license, and no car even if I had a license... I was starting to grow resentful. On top of that, I suffer from depression and anxiety which at that time, my ex husband didn't understand. His belief system was that all mental illnesses (uh, is that grammatically correct?) could be cured by positive thinking and putting on a big ol'smile!  He was so positive and driven, and I was so... Not. I felt lost most of the time, and by the end of October, after a lot of thinking, I realized I may have married him for the wrong reasons. I may have married him because while I did love him, I wasn't IN love with him. I just didn't want to be alone. I was in love with the fact that I had a beautiful ring on my finger. I was in love with the fact that I was gonna finally have health insurance. I was in love with moving out of my parents' house (as much as I love them, I just can't live with them lol), I was in love with having a pretty wedding gown and a wedding ceremony where the entire day was basically about me looking like a princess. I was in love with knowing I could say "I'm married" if I ever bumped into the butt munches who bullied me in middle school and high school. Don't get me wrong, my ex husband is a great man; He just wasn't the one for me, and it took moving to a totally different country to get me to realize that. So, I asked for a divorce. He agreed it was probably the best thing for us to do. Now, here's the tricky thing: I come from a family that believes divorce is wrong... So... we kept it a secret for a while. I didn't "come out" to my family and friends as divorced until around February of the following year. It wasn't  easy for them which wasn't easy for me cuz I felt like I had just broken their hearts. And let me just say, for the record, that there were issues before we even moved. The move almost seemed like we were trying to escape those issues and start a new life somewhere far from where the issues began... But those issues followed us, of course. We had gone through counseling together, and even the counselor didn't seem to think we should be together anymore. But why didn't I go back? Back to the place I was missing.. Where I had people who were missing me?  Well, I had met some great people here in Saskatoon. It's ironic that I held resentment for my ex for making me move away from a life I was comfortable with, to a life of loneliness which was essentially the straw that broke the camel's back... But ended up falling in love with this city... This province... This country, and the people here. As far as the weather, the cold doesn't bother me (great, now I have a certain little song from a certain little movie stuck in my head!)

I've tried moving back to California a couple of  times when life here was a mess... But I came back because this IS my home now. Whenever I'd go back, it didn't even feel like I was somewhere familiar. It felt like I was visiting some place totally new. Kinda like how I felt the first time I ever visited Canada! The people I had met.. They became like family. And though I've drifted apart from some of the people who were my main reason I stayed or came back, I'm happy I returned. Everything happens for a reason. It seemed like a big hassle that I got married, moved to a different country only to get divorced, and then go through all the craziness that came with such a big decision, but the truth is, if I hadn't met my ex and gotten married, I never would have moved out here. A lot has happened since I've moved here. I've had my heart broken many times. I've lived all over the city. Got my GED, had some fun and not so fun jobs. I became   independent. Learned some very important lessons... Some of which were very difficult. But, there's a happy ending for everybody in all of this. My ex is now happily re-married to the RIGHT woman, and they have 2 beautiful daughters (we've stayed friends even after all we went through.) And as for me? Well... I'm living happily with the life and family I've created here in Canada.. But that's a story for a different post. Until then, now you all know what brought me here, and what's kept me here... So now you can stop asking ;).... Seriously... Stop :p

Toots McGee!