Trump, Clinton, and the great American novel

The title of this post is appropriate only because I am not sure how to say what I want to say without it having a great many words.  My close family and friends often say, "did you write another novel" when I ask if they've read my latest post.  More often than not, you cannot simply say, "black" or "white" and not explain why, or at least explore the "grey".  This means, in short, I have a lot to say.  If you aren't into reading, I suggest you change channels now.

When this election first commenced I remember thinking at the time, "Donald Trump, you've got to be kidding me?"  To me, and this is just my opinion, he was just a cartoonish buffoon.  I never paid him much attention.  I never watched a beauty pageant or The Apprentice as neither show appealed to me.  I had seen Trump interviewed once, I think it was on the show "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous".  Other than on the show Narcos (Pablo Escobar), to date I have yet to see someone else with a gold plated toilet.  Apparently that's all the rage amongst the grossly wealthy.  Or conversely the wealthy who are gross.  Like I said, what I knew about Donald Trump wasn't much.  I knew what most people knew.  I remember him being in the news because he split with his wife due to an affair with a much younger woman.  It wasn't long after he split with that woman to marry another much younger woman.  He had kids with all of these wives.  And I could never figure out how or why coming from the woman's perspective.  Then I remembered how much money can truly buy.

Like most of you I had heard over the years how Trump had gone bankrupt.  I couldn't figure out how that happened and yet he remained wealthy as hell so I researched it.  I read that being the smart business man he was, he kept all his business interests as separate entities entirely so if one failed, the others were not affected.  I read that when one of those interests failed all the debts were absorbed by the banks and lenders, vendors and employees.  If you don't understand how that happens think Trump Casino, Trump Hotel, Trump Clothes, Trump Steak, and Trump University as stand alone companies, each completely separate from the next.  One has nothing but a name to do with the other.  While they are all part of his over all wealth, they are treated as separate.  If Trump Casino fails, which it did, only Trump Casino fails.  He doesn't have to pull money from the Trump Hotel part of his business to pay off any debt he has in the Casino business.  He just gets to walk away from it, and everything he owes in regards to it.  The banks don't get the money back that he borrowed to build the casino.  The guy making the carpets doesn't get paid.  The dealer just gets laid off, no severance.  It's genius really.  Trump just basically walks away and all his wealth in the other companies remains.  You the taxpayer get to eat part of his debt really.  Remember, each time a someone fails to pay a bank back the money they borrow that goes on the banks financials.  Those financials are then filed with the Federal Reserve who helps the government decide on what the borrowing rates will be for you, the little guy buying a house or a car.  If the banks are struggling with debt then the borrowing rates go up.  Obviously this is a simplified summation of the financial system but just think about that.

Recently we all heard about how Trump also files huge losses on his taxes when he did these bankruptcies, there have been several.  Not only does he get to walk away from unpaid debt but then he gets to file on his taxes that he personally lost all that money.  Even though he might not have invested more than a dollar to build this business, he gets to claim all the bank loans he walked away from as personal losses.  Now remember, all his wealth remains intact.  He's walked away from his debts and now claimed that as a personal loss.  These losses are allowed to be carried forward for a long time on his annual taxes.  Each year Donald files his personal taxes he gets to say, "I owe a million dollars in personal taxes to the United States of America.  But because I walked away from all my responsibilities ten years ago, I will continue to offset that loss against the income taxes I should pay and call it even".  He fucks you over again by not paying his fair share of taxes into the giant pool of money the IRS collects and uses to fund all kinds of government initiatives like infrastructure, education, health care, even the Federal Reserve Banks coffers that he took money from earlier.  Basically he double taps the Fed.

This doesn't make the man stupid at all.  Most wealthy people use all the loopholes they can to reduce what they show as personal income.  I haven't heard of many (including the Clintons) who take better advantage of the system than the Donald does.  The "system" he complains to you so emphatically about?  Well he loves it.  Loves using it to his advantage.  How do you think that will change if he becomes President?  I think he will continue to take full advantage of his position of authority and make changes supporting his future income and business dealings.  He's not going to work for you, there's no evidence to support that at all.  Not even a little bit.  In fact there is more evidence he is going to fuck the system as he has before.  But life is about hopes and dreams isn't it?

What else do I know about Trump?  His hair.  I know about his hair.  I think?  I mean who really knows what goes on under there, under the hive.  Many Trump supporters say, "it's hair, and to judge him for it is ridiculous and shows you are stupid and weak".  On that note, here's what I think.  I think you have to be in complete denial of reality to look in the mirror and think "yep, this is fantastic", when you look at that hair.  That concerns me.  It concerns me when someone cannot see something that blatantly obvious.  There is confidence and then there is a complete lack of self awareness.  Balding men who hide their baldness with comb overs, toupees or wigs that are cheap, ill fitting, or Trump like in any way, are so overtly insecure that it becomes dangerous.  I wouldn't rely on anyone who takes such great lengths to hide something they could as easily accept or with his money, do a proper job of altering (think Hair Club for Men).  I am not saying balding is bad, or I don't like how it looks (my husband is as bald as an eagle), but I think its cover up says a lot about a man.  Some men would rather hide it and try to ineffectually cover it up than admit the truth, that genetics has taken their hair.  I personally think he's bat shit crazy simply because he can leave the house with that hair.

I've known a lot of pigs in my life.  I've dated some, slept with others, and worked alongside many when I had a career on Bay Street, the Canadian version of Wall Street.  I helped run a hockey tournament and played softball annually with these guys.  Toss a few pro hockey players into the mix and you have quite the barnyard.  I spent 22 years around these men, in their "man's world".  When you try to imagine this don't think of the bank owned investment firms with solid Human Resource policies.  Think of the small firms where it was more important to make a buck and take all the risks necessary to make them.  Profit was more important than worrying about the types of personalities that were being hired.  Just as an example, one of the bosses at the firm I worked for apparently (I don't know this for a fact) got sued for sexual harassment multiple times before they bought him out of the company.  Yeah you read that right, "bought him out", paid him to leave.  Trust me when I say, I have seen pigs.  (It should be noted that not all men who work in the investment industry can be labelled pigs but deplorable wouldn't be far off the mark).

During this election a video of Donald Trump emerged from ten plus years ago where he was filmed saying that because he is famous and rich he can kiss any woman he wants, even grab their pussies.  His words, not mine.  In response to the release of this video Donald gave a telepromptered speech claiming he respects women and would never touch them in this manner.  He told the world that his words were just "locker room talk" and nothing more.  In response to that women from all over the world started telling stories of being manhandled, (or sexually assaulted as we prefer to say), by men who think the way Donald Trump does.  Men who think that a woman is just a sexual object.  Men who objectify woman as things, not equal humans, who were put on this earth for no other reason that to satisfy their sexual longings.  Sexual predators who believe they can act on any urge that overtakes them.  Democrats went to town calling Trump a sexual predator.  Republicans repeatedly defended Trump saying over and over that it was just, "locker room talk".  And then the women came.  One after the other, women started coming forward claiming that Trump had accosted them sexually in one manner or the other.  "Why now?", Republicans screamed.  These women only came forward because he publicly claimed to respect them.  He said his words didn't reflect who he was or his actions.  Trump supporters continued to defend him saying that his locker room chatter said nothing about the man and his policies.  Personally I think this type of shit says everything about the man and his policies.  For the life of me I cannot believe this topic has left the every day news headlines as the election draws to a close.  Don't you have daughters?  How can this subject be closed?  Taken over by Wikileaks?

There are a lot of things I cannot say for sure but one thing I can say is that the pigs I have known, (including the one who was sued), would never be stupid enough to say out loud, "I can do what I want with a woman, without asking".  I mean obviously the dude kicked out of the firm for sexual harassment thought he could do whatever he wanted to women.  Still I cannot recall his ever claiming he could do what he wanted to one because he was who he was.  Sure, I heard him drunkenly say to women, "Do you know who I am?" but I never heard him say to a buddy, "I am going to just grab her pussy because I am can".  He was too smart for that.  I can guarantee you in their actual "locker room" these boys talked about what they did with women.  They surely talked about what they wanted to do.  But I can almost guarantee you none of them actually bragged about being able to assault women because they were rich and famous.  Even these neanderthals knew that would be a stupid thing to say out loud.  They knew talking shit like that could get them in trouble especially if they were in the presence of someone they didn't know or barely knew.  If a microphone was anywhere near them, lord no, how stupid could one be?  While what Donald Trump said was horrific, his words actually didn't offend me as much as his entitlement and stupidity did.  (Yes of course his actions, any actions he took, offended me as his words did too).  Donald Trump is so entitled that he will say or do anything he wants.  He doesn't give a fuck about your opinion.  He cares little about public opinion.  "That's why we want him" you yell at me.  But that's your opinion he is not taking into consideration, you know that right???  Would you really be dumb enough to think you could say to someone you barley knew, while a mic was pinned on you, that you are free to sexually accost a stranger?  What will Trump be willing to say to the female leaders of the world just because he is socially inept?  He is entitled and more disconcerting  socially stupid, which is a dangerous combination.  DANGEROUS.  What he did was just plain old stupid.  That worries me most. 

Trump is a man child.  He throws tantrums.  You see that every time he speaks, every time there is a debate, every time someone challenges him.  When someone does something Trump doesn't like he whines and throws a hissy fit.  This is not the behaviour of a world leader.  Actually come to think of it, if you compare him to Kim Jon Un and Putin, he is perfectly suited for the role.  He is probably already wondering who he can have killed that he doesn't like.  Please note, both Un and Putin are DICTATORS.  They do not oversee democratic societies.  If they don't like what's on your email, they will simply take the internet away?  How are you going to Google my home address then?  That's what Trump wants to be, a dictator.  Remember this fact when you vote, he will do what he wants, when he wants irregardless of your wishes or any one else's.  Trump would rather claim that everything is rigged than just accept he might not win.  He would rather put doubts in your mind about the entire election process than just accept he might not win.  "The FBI is bad", because they didn't do what he wanted.  Oh, then they are good because they attempt it again.  Whoopsie, bad again because they didn't find anything.  The "media are crooks" because they simply do not like him and don't want him to be President.   "Celebrities shouldn't be allowed to be part of the campaigning process" because it makes him look bad.  Of course they should be on his show, the Apprentice, but not part of his election.  No celebrities of significance like Trump.  The D list, the unsuccessful ones do.  Even that says something to me.  But not to Trump, Trump thinks it's unfair to him, it's cheating, it's rigged.  Everything is someone else's problem, not his.  The fact the media and successful celebs don't like him means they are bad, "bigly bad"  Surely it doesn't mean that he is less likeable than the unlikeable Hillary.

Trump says things that are so profoundly wrong that I have found myself rethinking my own conservative positions on various topics because in no way shape or form do I want to share an opinion even remotely similar to Mr. Trump.  I have come to realize that if Donald Trump says something then it comes from a place of primal fear.  I guess in a way I need to thank him for broadening my narrow field of vision on some things.  Feeding our homeless before refugees, rethought.  Do both.  It's our responsibility as a first world country.  Our homeless are not being overlooked because of refugees.  They are being overlooked in spite of.  There is a Facebook post going around showing what appears to be a dead, frozen, homeless person.  The header reads, "House our homeless before refugees".  Research this.  It's not actually a picture from America.  Not many homeless actually die of freezing in first world countries with shelters and charities that check on those out in the cold.  Furthermore, most homeless people who do not go to shelters do not go out of choice.  They don't want to live by the rules and regulations that shelters have to have in place to try and keep people safe.  It took me just a few minutes to research this FB post and fact check it.  Only a few minutes for me to take an entirely new stance on the subject.  Why is it most Americans find themselves unable to do this?

Racism and anything else ending in "ism" or "phobia" originate from fear.  Fear is primal.  Fear tends to lack any intelligence.  It is based entirely on emotional responses and not logic.  In most instances if you look at something with logic, you can remove any fear because you are removing emotion.  Trump feeds Americans fear of almost everything.  Fear kicks in and primal urges abound.  Defend yourself!  Arm yourself!  Kick them out!  Don't let them in!  Basically he is the schoolyard bully that every kid wants as their friend because they are scared.  What no one realizes is schoolyard bullies are often psychologically damaged, of lesser intelligence, and act out solely based on insecurities.

Say what you want about Hillary Clinton.  Maybe she is dishonest, a through and through, true politician, where the truth is subjective depending on who she is talking to.  That might truly be who Hillary is.  I think she stood by her husband so many years ago because she looked him in the eye and said, "my turn is coming and you will sit in the corner and fucking behave".  I think like so many before her, (including President Bush for the record), she set up her own email server so that she could have private conversations with the people close to her.  "How long do I have to stay with this fucking asshole so I can be President?"  There has been no proof that she violated American security by emailing the nuclear codes to a friend.  I think Hillary Clinton is a political machine.  I think she knows how to get shit done.  She is the least insecure looking person I have seen since Mr. Data on Star Trek.  Clinton is not going to act on her insecurities.  She is not going to make decisions based in fear.  I think it's clear she will make decisions based on interest groups and if you are lucky, you might be one of those groups.  It can't be ignored that she has worked for the people in her past.  Has he?  Maybe she will try to work the system as she has for decades.  I like the idea of a President who knows how to work the WORLD's political system.  You cannot just shit all over the world and expect them to take it.  Other countries have nukes.  What I know for sure is that Hillary Clinton is not going to set America back hundreds of years simply because the population changes every single day.  But you've heard most of this already, I am not saying anything new.  

If Clinton wins, Trump has fed Americas fears so much that civil unrest may follow.  Imagine that, civil unrest in one of the greatest country on earth?!  Just like Syria or Iraq.  That's the thinking that Trump has been feeding, that you should mimic one of these countries and overthrow your government if he doesn't win the big prize in this competition.  I am confident the assassination attempts on Clinton will probably be the highest in history.  Killing, that's where Donald Trump takes American minds.  To killing their President as an option?  It's mind boggling to me to hear people say this is what they are thinking.  Granted the people saying that shit truly are the deplorable of the Trump supporters but you don't hear Trump saying, "okay come on now, that's enough of that".  Clinton will not destroy your country in 4 years, it's basically impossible.  You have Republicans in the Senate to prevent that, you have to know this deep down?  Maybe nothing will change, it will be the status quo for 4 more years.  Is that really so bad?  Will America really die in those 4 years or will you hold your chin up high as you always have and show the free world that you got this? 

It really doesn't matter what I think, I know you've heard this before but come on, wouldn't it be nice to have a fucking chick try to run this shit?  I mean she can't do any worse can she?   


No matter what, #vote.  This shit is real.


P.S.  Obviously #imwithher but I am Canadian so I don't really matter much.  I am just in the 2nd floor apartment hoping you don't bulldoze the place while I am out.  

Don't get drunk on nostalgia

I had a visit with an old high school friend today.  We used to ride the bus to school together. We were tight! Seriously I wasn't social then and I am less social today so truly we are friends on Facebook only because we attended the same High School. My plan was to meet him in the driveway, give him what he needed, and then run away and hide. What the hell would I have to talk about with this man? I hate small talk on a good day. We barely know each other. I seriously met him in the driveway. I would have thrown what I had for him but that would have been rude. I get Madagascar vanilla beans directly from Madagascar for dirt cheap and he's a really good cook who seems to love doing it so I thought he'd appreciate some. But I was nervous, what would I talk about with this man?

He lives in a different world than I do. He and his partner are both artists. They are both tremendously creative, liberal, very open minded people. In their Facebook photos they look like two hipsters out of the 50s in their personal style and decorating of their home.  It's something I absolutely love but couldn't pull off if my life depended on it. Simply put, I am NOT that cool.  I know it and that's okay. We can't all be. 

I live in a conservative world. My life is very full of capitalists from my past in the finance industry. Many of my friends are middle to right wingers (some wing nuts even). A lot of them have closed minds and narrow vision. That said, I have some friends who are left as you can get but I feel like I stick out like a sore thumb sometimes with them too.  I like to think I am evolving even as I type this.  I keep creeping further to the middle, leaning a little to the left.  I learn more about everything every day broadening my views. This friend appears much further along than I on the social evolutionary development scale. 

So when I say I met him in the driveway, I really did meet him in the driveway.  I sent the dog first because Brandon, that's his name, the friend not the dog, is a dog lover.  I figured the dog would be a good conversation piece   Well imagine my surprise when an hour and a half later Brandon and I were hardly out of breath talking world views, politics, and basically solving the world's problems. Heads up organized religion, in our world you're pretty much fucked. If the roofer had not come to do some work I think we'd still be on the front stoop shooting the shit. 

Brandon said something to me today that hit me like a punch in the face. I have been in therapy since I came out of my mother's uterus. They sent me from there directly to a shrink because I refused to cry. I thought it might offend my mother and I didn't want to upset her. I have done group therapy, exposure therapy, DBT, CBT, in house hospital care, psychiatrists, psychologists.  You name it, I have done it all. Because of that I have heard it all, read it all, and been advised with it all. Suddenly it was like a massive light when off when he said, "I was drunk with nostalgia" with reference to making bad choices.  Choices he made that didn't reflect who he is today but based entirely on nostalgia.  

"I was drunk on nostalgia". See that? That's world problem solving shit right there.  

They always say, forget the past it serves no purpose. Don't look to the future as it isn't here yet, and stay in the present. That theory does have it's benefits. If we stay here in the present we don't long for the past, which cannot repeat itself no matter how miserable we make ourselves hoping for it. If we stay here in the present we don't worry about the future. Being the debater that I am and mental health advocate I don't like simplicity in complex situations. Simple ideologies that make light of human suffering and the solutions for the same piss me off. I have seen so much mental illness suffering. It's a fact that you have to address your past if you are suffering. Suffering often comes from a past we haven't let go of, addressed, or moved on from. The future to some extent must be prepared for to reduce anxiety in those that suffer with anxiety disorders. While I like the theory behind "stay in the now", it can be argued against when it comes to healing the mentally ill mind.

There isn't much to argue against on that fact that we make poor decisions when we make them because we are drunk on nostalgia. Nostalgia impairs your thinking. You cannot do things today based on what you felt "back when".  Let's say your childhood home is still standing, falling apart at the seams, but still standing.  Visiting this home would be one thing. Deciding you need to live there because it triggers feelings of your childhood is another.  Being friends with someone today because you like them today is great.   Being friends with someone today you don't get along with just because you were friends when you were children is another.  It's the same concept of "the now" but better because it basically says nostalgia can alter your thought process greatly so don't make decisions while under its influence.  Don't drunk dial your ex boyfriend!  That sums it up perfectly.


I will no longer allow myself to get drunk off nostalgia and make decisions while in that altered state of mind. I think this gem he gave me today could help many and this girl can drink to that! *cough*  Get it? Drunk, drink to....hilarious I know. 

Check yourself, don't compare yourself

Jealousy and envy while disregarded by many as ineffective feelings based only in judgement, albeit true, are still feelings most of us feel. And if you feel them, that makes them legitimate. Valid even. Your feelings are allowed. No matter what they are.


You can either be inspired by those feelings or hate because of them. Feel inspired!!!! Do something with those feelings. Talk about them with each other. Words often release feelings. So let go of your resentment by sharing what you are appreciating in another woman, with that woman. Even if it's to tell someone that you envy something about them? "You are so beautiful". "You are so smart". "That smile". "You're so funny". "You're so kind". Tell a woman, appreciate her. You will probably let go of your envy, jealousy or resentment by appreciating them. In turn, you might appreciate yourself for being so generous in spirit.


We are not in competition. You do not have to be as skinny as her, as fit as her, as happy as her, as successful as her....those are all your judgements of her and in return of yourself. Why not be your best self without comparison? Do you know how many of us would be happier? Would struggle less? You will always come up short in comparison, always. You cannot be someone else, as much as you may want to.


I know for me when the darkness of mental illness takes a hold, as it often does, I have to stop comparing and start self loving, as fast as possible to avoid spiralling.


Every single day we look at other women and say, "I wish I...." Either do for yourself, or accept yourself. Those are your only choices. Change or accept and love. We are all individuals. If I wanted her abs, (you know you've said, "Oh my god I want her stomach"), I would have to surgically implant them.  My abs, whether hidden under a belly or not, are MY abs. They will never be the same as hers. They will always be mine and that means they will look different, they will act different, they will be different.


I might want to be a Victoria's Secret model. I might envy them, feel jealous even. My feelings, your feelings, our feelings, are always valid. I can either tell them how I feel and let go of my comparative resentment or I can figure out how to starve myself and exercise for 8 hours a day. It probably means some serious surgery too, you know to remove my injured spine. The more you think it through the less realistic it is to become someone else entirely.  Oh and for the record, I don't personally know any Victoria's Secret models so by "telling them" I meant express your feelings, even if to yourself. Just be honest with yourself about what you are feeling.

I can exercise for my personal mental health, to be my physical best, and to ensure into the future I can continue to walk with my injuries. I have been thin. I have been (am) fat. Neither which is better than the other, they are just me. Just because I like food more than the next gal doesn't make me less than.


Be you. Embrace you, embrace other women. We are all individuals. And perfect as we are. Without compare.


*Nothing compares to you.....* (sing with me) I can't harmonize worth a damn but I will try for harmony's sake with all women.

Why I didn't watch the Tragically Hip concert live last night

Please don't hate message me, keep reading!  I love my Canada.  And I love the Tragically Hip.  

I remember being introduced to the Hip in my 20s.  One of one of the great loves of my life, my first, gave me a tape of them and I never stopped listening.  In the car, on my Sony Walkman on the train, over and over, each trip to and from young love.  Gord's haunting voice had me hooked as much as the boy had my heart.  We broke up, as young love often does, Gord and I didn't.  I have loved the Hip since that boy blessed me with his taste in music.  

I have seen the Hip in concert 3, maybe 4 times.  The last time was Y2K.  It was 1999, going on 2000, and the fear of the end of the world was upon us.  Everyone who ever did code in a computer assumed the world's computer networks were going to crash when the systems tried to figure out the number 2000 as the year.  I was on call for the next day, Y2K + 1.  If the worst happened I was to get into work on Bay Street immediately.  Actually most of the people in the corporate sponsored private box at the concert arena that night worked with me.  Most of us were on call.  We drank (for free, see private box note) but reservedly just in case, and danced to Gord's hypnotizing voice for hours into the New Year.  At shortly after midnight when our Blackberry's didn't go off and we no longer thought the computer world was ending, we turned the party up a notch.  We drank in the box until they made us leave and then we left the arena stumbling out into the streets of Toronto with the masses.  There were no cabs as there often isn't on New Years Eve so we walked, dropping into clubs and dancing all the way from downtown Toronto to midtown and back to my apartment.  It was one of those great nights you remember from your younger years.  It was just fun, from start to finish.  My best friend was with me.  I was dating a guy who I found to be the perfect challenge.  I was relatively thin, again (wrongly overly important to me) and somewhat successful in my career.  While I was in therapy as always my mental illness had not progressed yet. It would catch up to me eventually but that night, all things were good in the world. I was good, Gord and the Hip were great.  

In 2011 a friend from High School got in touch with me knowing I ended up living where?  Bobcaygeon of course.  For those who don't know (you must not be Canadian) there is a song called Bobcaygeon by the Tragically Hip.  It's not really about the town.  The town name just happened to rhyme where the lead singer and songwriter, Gord Downie needed it to, with the word "constellation".  It was actually more about riots in the depression era and gay love between two police officers apparently.  While deep in meaning the song has the band's usual hypnotic rhythm and sound.  People know the song by the title and word Bobcaygeon but most didn't even know it was a town name until Downie wrote that song.  My old friends asked if they could stay with us as the Hip was finally playing a concert in the town of Bobcaygeon.

Bobcaygeon is in cottage country so there was a huge farmer's field converted into concert grounds.  People were coming from all over the Country to be a part of this historic moment in what can only be described as "God's country" where Gord Downie would sing about the constellations in Bobcaygeon.  I wasn't going by choice.  I get anxious in crowds so I don't do things like massive outdoor concerts much anymore.  Besides that I was sure I would be able to listen to them right from home.  We weren't far at all from the grounds. I would host the girls for the weekend, drop them off and pick them up.  It was a fantastic weekend reuniting with a friend and her wife, both beautiful souls.  Another great Tragically Hip memory.    

When I heard Gord Downie has terminal brain cancer every ounce of my mental illness, Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), cried out.  I felt so bad for him, his family and friends, for every Canadian that was going to feel sad that I wept.  When he announced he was going to do one final tour across Canada for his fans I was overwhelmed by emotion.  I lost myself a little bit to the emotions I felt reflecting on his courage and kindness, his heart, and all my memories associated to him.  Admittedly I ended up in a bit of a pity party of the memories of times that seemed better as compared to today only when looked upon through my sadness.  Memories of a job I could no longer do, and money I no longer have because of that.  The younger, thinner me.  The partying freely all night long, not a hot flash in sight me!  The mental illness me that was still being exhaustingly held at bay.  Life was good then, wasn't it?  

I was also feeling very much like I did when the world lost Prince, like a part of me, my history, was going to die too.  Dramatic I know but this is what it felt like.  That is really what this disease, BPD is about, emotional dysregulation, and the impact and reactions to the same.  When someone else is dying, it feels like you are dying.   When in actuality it has nothing to do with you but your emotions make it so.  It's a bitch of a disease but can be managed by using what they refer to as your "wise mind".  The wise mind is a little emotional mind, and a little logical mind.  People with BPD have to practise that as much as they can, to use both parts of their brain.  I have to remind myself over and over again that things are not about me.  I am not part of this story or that story.  My emotions want me to be, but I am not.  It's okay to feel sad for this man, it's not okay to get lost to sadness because of it.

Last night when most of Canada was watching the live presentation of the concert of a lifetime, the Tragically Hip in their hometown of Kingston Ontario, I was not.  I could not.  Just like their recent tour, I would not be going.  It simply would be too emotionally triggering for me.  Plus I was home alone, my husband is away for the weekend with the kids.  Knowing I was more in emotional mind than not I wouldn't make myself watch this beautiful man pour his soul out to Canada simply because everyone else was.  I didn't want to feel overwhelming sadness for this man and musician, for his friends, family, bandmates and all of Canada really.  I often find myself crying uncontrollably over things that should not impact me that way.  I didn't want to cry uncontrollably last night and I knew that was possible. 

Every day, like many, I need to make choices that are good for my mental health and wellbeing.  Choosing things that are healthy and self soothing.  I wanted to celebrate the Hip last night with all of Canada but I couldn't.  My mind wasn't in a good place this past week.  I have accepted that I have an emotional mental illness and sometimes it can get in the way of things I want to do.  Until I have a really good day where I am all about being in the moment, being mindful and in the now, I won't be able to watch this concert so I taped it.  I have read articles today and watched little clips which brought me to tears, but for now I won't be watching the full concert.  As I teeter on the high wire of my emotions I am going to think about Gord Downie and everything he meant to me.  For all the times I saw him perform perfectly healthy, happy, and giving Canadians great music with his band, the ever Tragically Hip.  

Thank you Gord.  Thank you the Hip, for everything.  One rainy day soon when the sun is shining inside of me I am going to sit mindfully in the pocket of the moment and watch the concert of a lifetime.  I can't wait.  

The incomparable Gord Downie.  

The Tragically Hip

Psssssst hey you my American friends and family, go listen to one of their albums, you'll love it, I promise.  

Sarah's Story - TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!

Before reading this story please be advised this is a fictional story of a sexual assault and should not be read if it will trigger any mental health issues.  If you do chose to read this, please ensure you are kind to yourself and use self care afterwards.  This does contain some graphic material that could upset anyone, but especially anyone with an experience in this. 

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“Wow I am tired”, Sarah Jones muttered to herself.  She thought about having to get up for Church in the morning, for the early service she had promised her Mother she wouldn’t miss again.  She suddenly wished she hadn’t made that promise, or agreed to the late shift at the grocery store. Laying her hand on the tiny gold cross always worn on the chain around her neck she quickly realized it was the late shift she regretted most.  Church always gave her a sense of peace that she didn’t find elsewhere.  Even if that peace sometimes came in the form of nodding off a little during the sermon.  As assistant manager she thought proudly, sometimes a girl has to stay late and get the job done. 

Sarah had only just finished the day’s count.  Cash, credit and debit card receipts, and coupons all counted and crossed checked to the day’s tally.  She was balanced to within three dollars and seventy-six cents and wondered if that was a record.  People make honest mistakes, the store rarely balanced perfectly but this was close.  All the cash was counted and in the bank deposit bag hidden in the large purse she threw across her body.  Her hand rested very protectively on it as the she set the alarm in the store and locked the back store door behind her.  The store’s back door light was on a timer allowing her to get to her car in as much light as a single lightbulb offered.  All staff had to park as far from the grocery store doors as possible, both front and back doors.  In the front allowing customers to come and go as easily and conveniently as possible.  In the back to allow for the delivery trucks to drop off all day long and give space for the staff picnic tables used for quick smoke breaks more often than eating, and where gossip flourished.  Seeing the empty pop cans on the tables Sarah did her final job of the night.  Slowly she began collecting them two and three at a time so as not to spill the contents, often the dredges of leftover pop, ants and cigarette butts, on her white uniform top she had somehow managed to keep clean on shift today.  Her nose wrinkled at the thought as she made four trips back and forth to the garbage dumpsters.  Shaking her head, she thought about the sign at the back door she had only just made which read, “please clean up after yourselves before returning to work”.  So much for that idea she thought.

Just as she finished her final chore of the night the timer on the back door light went off.  Because it was the back of the store only two street lights, spaced far apart, now offered lighting for the entire back lot. Sarah could barely see her car parked down the way.  She should have moved her car to the front of the store she thought.  She had been told by one of the other assistant managers it was the better option if you had to work late.  There were more street lights out front.  The store backed onto an old field readied for building pursuant to the fencing and construction signs.  The field was expansive and dark, not yet lit by the construction process.  Fumbling around in her bag Sarah found her key chain which had a tiny flashlight on it and a whistle.  “You can never be too safe”, her father had told her when he presented the car keys to her the year prior.  It’s funny how she hadn’t really thought about that statement before now.  At the time her entire focus was on the little bright red car that was her 16^th birthday present.  While gently used, not brand new, it was new to her and the greatest gift she’d ever received.  She had barely noticed the keychain.  Tonight she was thankful for the wee flashlight.  While tiny it cleared a lit path for her to make way to her car. 

Before anything happened the hair on Sarah’s neck stood up.  She quickened her pace to her car. There wasn’t a sound.  She saw nothing, but she knew something was about to happen.  When Sarah came too she was in the tall grass, she assumed in the field behind the store but she wasn’t sure. “Wasn’t the construction field fenced all around”, she thought as she tried to get her bearings.  She hadn’t yet realized what was about to happen to her.  She would never forget wondering, “how did I get into the construction site?”, it was a strange thing to focus on she thought for years after. 

The man had a mask on, just like the kind the robbers used in movies.  Black, and knitted, covering his entire face but the eyes and mouth.  Eyes that were wide and crazed, mouth that was spitting as it said, “if you scream or move, I will kill you, then I will go to your home and kill your whole family”.  Sarah wanted to fight back, she knew she should, then she saw the image of her little sister in her mind.  Her 10 year old flaxen haired sister, that everyone said looked just like Sarah, and she held back the urge to fight.  She wouldn’t kick and scream, she wouldn’t fight him to the death.  She wouldn’t risk her sister.  Her job as a big sister was to protect her, and protect her should would.  Steeling herself for what was to come Sarah said through tears, “please don’t hurt me.  I have money, look in my purse.  There is a ton of cash in there from the store”.  Only as those words left her mouth and a breeze passed did Sarah realize she was basically naked.  Her pants were gone.  She knew that simply from the chill she got which tuned her into her body and she felt the dirt and grass beneath her behind.  Her top was somehow off but around her neck and the man had a hold of it, pulling it tight at her throat.  She didn’t know if her bra was still there or gone like her pants, she just knew her breasts were exposed.  The cold was causing her breasts to react in a way that caused her breathtaking shame. 

Then he was inside of her.  It happened so suddenly she gasped in a way that embarrassed her.  “You like this don’t you?”, he said misreading her reaction.  It hurt, a lot.  More than she ever thought it might.  She had never had sex.  She had not yet made love with a man.  This wasn’t love she thought, this was hate.  He hated her, he must.  She hated him, she knew that.  Each time he pushed further into her it hurt her more.  It was like sandpaper and glass were shredding her insides.  Turning her head from him to focus on anything other than the hot foul breath in her face she felt the sting of a slap and heard him grunt, “you look at me bitch”.  With tears streaming down her face she stared her rapist straight in the eyes and thought only of her sister and the life she was ensuring she had by not fighting this evil man.  It didn’t take long for him to finish.  She could tell he was done she saw it in his eyes.  When he climbed off of her to pull up his pants he said again, “don’t tell anyone, not the cops, not your family, no one, or they all die”.  The man stood, bent to grab her purse she’d hadn’t even noticed was beside them, and he ran. 

Sarah curled into the fetal position and wept.  She wept for her innocence, now gone.  She wept for her family, would they all die if she told anyone?  She wept angrily at the people who had left their pop cans outside the store who delayed her departure surely causing this.  She wept because she hadn’t moved her car to the front of the store as the other manager had recommended her doing.  Was it her fault?  She just wept.  She didn’t know how long she lay there, until it suddenly dawned on her that she was freezing.  Her teeth chattered, from cold, from fear?  She didn’t know.  Between her legs was screaming in pain.  She’d never felt this kind of pain before, like she’d been cut inside.  Her backside felt raw, like she’d been dragged over broken glass.  And her head, her head was pounding.  She reached around to touch it only to bring back a hand covered in blood.  She retched.  Throwing up all over herself she retched relentlessly.  The tears began again.  Anytime she’d been sick in her life, her mother had been there to hold her hair and comfort her.  She wanted her Mommy.  She needed her.  She was going to get to her she thought angrily.  Pulling her shirt down and back over her breasts she realized her bra was still on her shoulders.  She reattached the clasp in the front.  Standing up pant less she began looking for them.  Her sneakers and socks were still on.  Weird she thought, “how did he get my skinny jeans off and not my shoes?”, her mind was racing with the strangest thoughts.  She was desperately trying to remember how this all happened.  In the moonlight she spotted her pants not far from where she was but her underwear was not with her pants.  She couldn’t find them.  Had he taken them?  Why would he do that?  She began to panic, where were they?  Gathering herself she realized they hardly mattered.  He could have them, she needed to get out of there.  She struggled to get her pants up and over her shoes again wondering how he had done it.  As the pants made it to her thighs she saw blood.  She had to steady herself from retching again. Closing her eyes she pulled her pants up and zipped them closed just as she had done that morning.  Such a simple task never to be repeated in the same mindless manner again.    

Stumbling in the darkness with just the moon now to light her way Sarah headed in the direction of the only other lights she could see in the distance.  She assumed them to be the two street lights in the back lot of the store.  They weren’t far from her at all.  She managed to find the construction fence and making her way along it she found the gap in the fencing.  Her car was right there!  How had she never noticed the gap in the fence before now?  And there were her keys, the little flashlight still shining a cone of light on the ground illuminating the whistle attached.  “Daddy”, she gasped out loud and dropped to her knees the tears rushing again.  Dad is going to be so angry with me.  “I should have known better.   This is my fault.  I had the whistle.  I knew something was wrong.  I should have moved my car”, she thought rapidly.  Only a sound of rustling in the bushes from behind her brought Sarah to her feet.  She jumped practically out of her own skin.  She grabbed her keys and launched herself into her car locking the doors behind her.  She turned the key in the ignition and threw the car into drive.  Sarah had no recollection of driving home.  Upon seeing her childhood house Sarah jumped out of the car screaming for her parents one after the other.  “Mom, Dad”.  The rest is a blur.  Sarah awoke again, came to, became aware of her surroundings in a hospital room as a nurse said, “we are done now Sarah, you can rest.  I will come back and we will do the STD and pregnancy test”.

“Pregnancy test”, Sarah whispered to herself and shuddered.  “God please, please, no”.

After reading Sarah’s story;

Tell me how you can vote for anyone who might take the right Sarah has to her own uterus away from her. 

Tell me how you’re not violating Sarah again by laying claim to her reproductive system.

Tell me how you think Sarah should be punished if she chose to abort a pregnancy created by this story.   

Sarah is not to blame here, he is.  Therefore, she should not be punished. 

No really, tell me how you believe you have any rights to this woman’s story, let alone her uterus.