Dear Jesus,

So I don't even know how to start this. I know that some people reading this will assume that I have been negligent or irresponsible with what you have given me, and maybe that's true. But right now? Right now, I am asking that you look past the sins of the forefathers and look to the wishes and desires of my children's heart. And maybe some Christians will condemn me and say this is simply what I rightly deserve having left their dad, and yet, both you and I know that if I stayed there I'd be dead right now.

But here's the thing. It's Christmas. And due to circumstances beyond my control and despite me having done the just thing, I am without family to celebrate Christmas with. Despite my carefully laid plans of ways to gain some extra cash to help make ends meet, I am still left without the ability to pay off bills, buy food, finish buying presents and no family to celebrate Christmas with.

I was invited to spend Christmas with a family in AB. It would have been a wonderful Christmas. We would have had snow on Christmas morning, and people to celebrate Christmas with, people that cared and celebrated who my children are. People that would have showered my children in the love and affection that they don't rightly get from their own blood.

But I cannot give them that. I can barely give them food for the table and a roof over their head. I can barely meet their day to day needs, let alone give them a dream.

And so Lord, I ask that as you look down on us this Christmas, can you see a way to make a Christmas dream come true for my kids? I promise in the New Year, I will put my shoulder back to the grindstone. I will sacrifice myself in order to make up for this.

I guess, Lord, what I am asking is for some grace and mercy here. And a Christmas miracle.

Thanks,

just me the single mom

Christmas and Birthdays

For those of you watching my fb account, you will see a number of pictures of Christmas in my new house. All of them include stockings hung by the chimney with care. There is a reason for my insanity. You see, when I was little, we read and were read "The Night Before Christmas." Our book had beautiful pictures of tow headed children in onesie pajamas with the button flap at the bum reaching on tip toe to hang their stocking on a fireplace that housed a roaring, snappping, crackling fire. This was my version of Norman Rockwell. And so it was birthed in me. My dream to have that picture, for me and as I got older for my children.

Christmas was always a magical time for me. Yet don't think, that it was without trauma. One Christmas we woke to news of a beloved friend's passing, unjustly I might add. One Christmas, saw a major war between my parents that resulted in anger and yelling and screaming and tears and the inevitable silent treatment and tension thick enough to slice with a knife. And yet, Christmas remained magical.

And now as an adult, come Nov 1, Christmas music plays at my house. Come the first Sat in Dec, we have a tree decorating day and night with movies, music and treats. My children are somewhat sick of it all, at least some of them are, but I make them participate? Why? Because Christmas is magical for me.

And now I digress for a bit. The magicalness of Christmas is mirrored in birthdays for me. Many of you have seen pictures on my fb of the somewhat insane birthday parties I throw for my kids. And yet again, there is a method to my insanity. I have hosted such birthday parties as: Jedi knight training party, sword and the stone party, a live version of Clue, a Mani Pedi party, a wine and cheese party, a backwards party, a princess party, a limo driven night on the town party a survivor party. Many times people look at me and shake their heads at me, thinking I am simply crazy without a cure. Again, all done intentionally with purpose.

For you see, when I was but a wee one, birthdays and Christmas were my days. And by that I mean that they were the only days I got to be somebody. For 2 days, out of 365, I was celebrated, I was rejoiced in, I was honoured, I was loved.  The other 363 days I was hurt, abused, emotionally beat on, used for whatever purpose saw fit at the time, downtrodden, ignored, devalued, terrorized, bullied, forgotten and un-noticed. I was a nothing. Except for two days. For two days I was a something.

And so my insanity is two fold. From a wee one, I learned to live in the quiet celebration of those two days. I say quiet because the days leading up met with the descriptives above. But internally, I was anticipating, dreaming, fantasizing, and celebrating. I created my own internal anticipatory celebration of the two days I got to be a SOMETHING. And then the day, the magical, wondrous, dreamlike day arrived for me!!! I got to BE!!!!!

And I carried this with me. Yet now, as an adult, my celebration does not have to remain hidden and internal. I run my house and so, I can celebrate externally, I get to hold onto the fact that I get to BE!!!! Until normalcy sets in and I go back to being a nothing.

And I do it for my kids. I want them to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they ARE! And who they ARE is beyond descriptive words. And so I plan their parties with them and the anticipation grows and they see the effort I put in and they KNOW. They are SOMETHING!!!!! They are VALUABLE and WORTHY and LOVED BEYOND MEASURE!!!!!!!!!! They see me plan Christmas, with anticipation of their joy. And they KNOW. THEY ARE SOMETHING!!!! Part of this comes from my stuff. I know that. Part of it does come from what I never got to experience and yet, part of this comes from me trying to ensure that the good in their lives stays and the bad falls away. I know we are not supposed to, as parents, live vicariously through our children. But I can't help but wonder, if in this case, is it such a bad thing?

Walking Dead

Before I post this, I need to post a preface. There are a few of you that will understand on a very integral level what exactly this means. To the rest, I hope that these words strike a chord and give you hope!

Walking Dead
 We walk amongst the living
Flesh wrappings are our dress
We look and speak and sound the same
Our hearts no longer in our chest

We are the walking dead
Living, breathing lies,
Fleshly robes around us,
Emptiness in our eyes

Should you listen carefully,
Take notice of our words
You'll find although we speak the same,
Our meanings are not heard

Should you stop and look
You'll see we look like you
But if you dig down deep enough
There's nothing further from the truth

For you see our chests beat empty
Bloodied tears fall from our eyes
If you listen carefully
We're walking, breathing lies.
Walking dead

Acting an all things creative

So, I have just recently signed Jamie back up for acting classes, we did his headsots, signed the contracts and away we go.

Now we have been in this game many times before. It's an interesting "hurry up and wait" scenario And can be very frustrating but that's when it pays to be a "reader." It's interesting, this business and the politics that go with it. For those of you that know Jamie, he is quite a charismatic soul. And he is the clown of our family. So it makes a natural cross over to acting. But as soon as you do this, the warnings come about child actors. Don't let them do this, make sure they don't do that.

I really do understand the concern. It's a dangerous world and a lot of that, for whatever reason becomes centralized in the film industry. So I really do understand the concern. One thing I am curious about though, is how everyone who gives the advice must think I am a complete moron and incompetent parent to not know the dangers in the industry. But I guess it is what it is.

Well, Jamie and I were watching a movie, a kids movie although I forget what it is at the moment....hold on checking with the kids.......Starstruck is the title. So Jamie and I were watching Starstruck and he turns and says to me. Mom...don't ever let that happen to me. I don't want all that.

I had not prompted this, but suffice it to say, I was thrilled and proud to hear him say it. In a sense, Jamie saw some of the dangers of this business and asked to be kept from it. Which makes me realize my son is a little wiser than I thought, and makes me a little more confident about entering this business.

Throw Away Girl

Throw Away Girl

She looked at him with pleading eyes

Would he see through her disguise?

One moment when her guard was down

The pasted smile to hide the frown

Chorus: She’s a throw away girl

That no one sees

A throw away girl

A living disease

Externally, she’s light and bright

Nothing to betray her fight

She laughs and giggles life away

Hoping praying someone would stay

No one sees gut wrenching tears

From her heart that bleeds her fears

A life of charm, the Midas touch

No one knows her hidden crutch

Will you be the one to know?

The life of hell beneath the glow?

Will you be the one to stand?

Walk beside, hold her hand?

©Kristie de Jong Nov. 2011

My House, my home...

So it is 2011 and I sit in the kitchen amidst a million boxes, the sun pouring in, my first cup of coffee and a head full of dreams.My dog is whining at the porch door, my cat is on the back of my chair. Oftentimes, there are two yearly points that people will stop and assess their life: New Year's  being the obvious one and then September when the kids go back to school. But, as par for the course of my unusual life, I don't stop on those two points, in fact, I don't think I ever ponder at those two points. Rather it is moments like these when I think, when I ponder.

This year has been full of a number of things, some good, mostly bad. It started off with my being falsely accused of embezzlement. That particular episode started at the end of last year and rung in my new year. Not a great note to start on. This lasted  a few months and ended with a severing of relationships as a result.

Next came my one vacation in 6 going on 7 years. It was a mini weekend escape. It was a time I remember with fondness. Upon arriving back home, I discovered that we had been robbed and stripped of nearly everything of value. This was followed by an assault and attempted robbery on my eldest son. The court case for this is still pending.

Summer was somewhat uneventful. I gave my daughter a brilliant 13th birthday. August was marked by a human rights tribunal complaint due to discrimination because I have children. That is still under investigation.

Then September hit and so did the Gang Task Force Invasion. You can read about that here. This was followed by more police involvement, another robbery. I believe I counted about 10 traumatic events in 20 days. And thus the more intentional search for a house ( which we found).

And then we had puppies and I had to paint and clean one house, while packing and cleaning the other house. And then we moved.

So here I sit, among unopened, and opened boxes, in a house that is partially painted and partially cleaned. And apart from being terribly sleepy, I think I am content (unless that's just the sleepiness kicking in.)

And I ponder. And dream for the good things in this house. For you see this house is already something of a dream. No, I do not own it. I wish I did. But it has many things I've dreamed of. I grew up with a wood burning fireplace. Here there are now banned unless you have a house with one in it already. And now? Well, I have two! I have a large master bedroom with two closets and a half bath ensuite. More things I have wished for. I have a house with lots of windows so the sun can get in everywhere. The front of the house faces east, the back west. I have enough bedrooms for the kids and a great rec/games room. I have a big back yard. I have a wrap around deck for summer barbeques. I also have an unfinished room that I hope to turn into an office. I have a house, but more importantly I have a home.I have a park right next to me.

So as I sit this morning and looik at the mountains outside, I ponder and I wish. I wish for many things in this house. I hope to be remarried. I hope to hear the pitter patter of baby feet once again. But most of all, I wish for peace and safety for me and my kids.

My little guy looked up at me as he drowsily fell asleep and said to me two things: I trust this house Mommy, I trust it because I slept it in and it was good. And then he said, Thank you Mommy for getting us a house that is safe....

SWA (Superwoman Anonymous)

Hi! My name is Kristie de Jong and I am NOT a Superwoman. Although I suppose I look like it at times. BUT I am NOT superwoman. In fact, all I am is a simple girl with big dreams. However, I can see how some might think I am.

Let's recap: in the last five years I have survived, overcome, kicked and screamed through, gritted my teeth and held on while (insert favorite descriptive here) more crises than most people know exist.

I have: separated from an abusive husband who raped me
     -re-entered University
     -graduated with my BA in Honors Psychology
     -raised three children
     -taught said children HOW to have a healthy relationship with aforementioned ex
     -fought through numerous career crushing rumours
     -managed through numerous social services investigations disproving all rumours and accusations
     -nearly  obtained my MA in Counseling Psychology (thesis outstanding)
     -survived rape while in University
     -sold my marital home
     -made an urgent move to a new address after the rape
     -started a few different businesses (including my private practice)
     -having to call 911 at various points to ensure my children's safety
    -continuing abuse from my x
     -accusations from a guy I "dated" that included my stalking him and B & E in his house
      -ongoing estrangement from family because I will not subscribe to their mental/emotional abuse
     -family siding with x
     -having my life blogged about with blogs being laced with accusations, lies. rumors, slander and libel           enough to upset my chi children

AND THIS YEAR ALONE:
     -survived two robberies
     -had my son assaulted
     -waded (and still wading) through a human rights complaint
     -discriminated against because I have children
     -threatened with legal action
     -accused of fraud and keeping funds for self gain (is that rightly called embezzlement?)

AND SINCE SEPTEMBER
     -gang task force and SWAT descending on my property
     -children trapped in the house whilst said SWAT and GTF were active on property
     -police called on me for no reason
     -verbal attacks by neighbors due to said SWAT and GTF (insert second roobery)
     -son's accused floating on the outside of our lives (despite a no contact order)
     -another urgent move (due to aforementioned GTF and SWAT)
     -CSI investigation on property
     -guns trained on my house during said SWAT and GTF investigation
     -family members continuing to abuse by telling me that I have no right to fight for myself or my children, we should expect discrimination and suck it up and live in a shit hole because I am NO princess and deserve nothing better
     -fighting with the current landlord to not enter my house without me there
     -my dog being beat
     -fighting with future landlord over safety concerns with the new house
     -cleaning and painting new house
     -packing and painting
     -working two jobs
     -managing the mental health of my children

(that's all I can remenber)

(and that's only the last couple years)

BUT

I
AM
NOT
SUPER
WOMAN

in fact, I am just a simple girl. I cry........ALOT. and I am weak. and I wish for someone to come along and help me with things. But no one offers. So I go it alone. I wish it were different and if it were me, I likely would go it alone. For you see, I am nothing more than those family members suggested. But my children are better. They are not THAT. They are amazing and they deserve the best of the best and so I fight for their sake. They have unheard of and untold hell as their life experience and yet their spirits are beautiful and amazing and joyous to be around. And so for them, I fight. For they deserve all those amazing things. And I die inside because I have nothing left. People "hear": and "see" my life but no one stands with me. They all remain outside observers with no one thinking that maybe, just maybe I cannot manage. Maybe, just maybe I need a hand. But everyone has lives, everyone has an issue or a something that prevents them from reaching out. And I will not ask,. I will NOT be a burden. I may not be superwoman, but I will not be a burden.

And so I keep going.
I cry.
I fall apart.
I scream.l
I stop functioning.

But all that needs doing gets done. For my kids. I show up to their field trips even if it means 5 sleepless nights to ensure the rest gets done.

And then I crash.
Cry
Weep
Bleed
Die

and although I look like Superwoman, I am NOT

Hi!
My name is Kristie de Jong

And I am NOT superwoman......

Justice is an interesting beast.

I am not sure what I am going to write.l I know I am a vibrating mess. The last month and a half in my first ever home that I felt safe in, my world got turned upside down. We have had SWAT teams, gang task force, gunshots, neighbours calling police on me, people following my daughter and more stuff that slips my mind right now. Suffice it to say, it is time to move on. So after the human rights tribunal debacle, I found a new place. It's a bit more than I am paying now, however it is a nominal amount. And the good news? It is big, with a big yard, and four bedrooms, and two wood burning fireplaces (something my heart has desired forever). I am very excited. BUT it requires a TON of work. I have had to clean the entire place and it was DISGUSTING. I can't even describe the filth except to say that I have a commercial grade cleaner and it took washing the kitchen ceiling 3 times before it was clean. The carpets were soo dirty, nothing would clean them, and the place badly needed a paint job. So the deal we made with the rental company is this:  they would clean the place before we painted, I would paint (they would cover up to $300.00) and they would replace the carpets.

They renigged on the cleaning. And the walls could NOT be painted in the state they were in. It would peel in about 3 months. I explained this to them and they held firm. So I cleaned. And then I went to paint, well so far I am at about 500 and I have a ton left to go. So likely the paint bill will be close too 1000.00 that I do not have. The carpets come in on Monday.

What I have since discovered (still have to verify) is that in BC there is a law that states that a landlord renting a place has to clean it, paint it and repair damage. All of that except the carpets I have had to deal with myself. So my intention is to go ahead and do the work, clean the house, paint the house and then work to recoup the cost of the paint, not the labor just the paint cost. It is illegal for them to do this to me, and so I am looking to recoup the cost of the paint and supplies.

So my dad phones tonight and asks how things are going. I tell him the state of the house  and how things are progressing. Dad asked who is paying for all of this and so I explained about the cleaning and painting and the carpets and all hell breaks loose. I catch shit for trying to recoup my cost and he tells me that I should not be doing that and that I'm wrong. I should not be taking things to the level that I do and why the hell do I do that and think I can do that. I have no business taking things to this level ( the government) and he definitely does not agree with me. And why don't I just live somewhere else then. So I replied that I cannot afford anything else. He replied that I should stay where I am and why don't I? So I said that I am not going to continue to live in a place where the SWAT team descends upon my house and gun shots go off. His reply? Well that's all you can expect when you are only willing to pay 1500 and you should just suck it up and deal but definitely NOT fight this.I also told him that he doesn't have to agree with me but I am a 37 year old woman and quite capable of making my own decisions. He said I disagree. I said well I have raised three kids by myself for five years and have been doing it well. He said I don't want to hear all that. Through all this nattering about the take home message?

You are fkd up and I don't agree with what you are doing.

I told him numerous times that I did not have the energy to argue about this and if that was his intent then this conversation would have to happen another time. He said fine. So I said,k I love you dad, have a good night and good bye

He said bye.

He hung up.

Dear Mr. Thief

so, I thought that I'd write to you, not that you will ever see this but that matters not. I have now been affected and been your target twice. And so I thought I would share some of my thoughts with you. The first time we crossed each other's paths, was back in April. I took my kids away for vacation for the Easter long weekend. It was our first "vacation" in six years. And trust me it wasn't much of one. One of my girlfriends invited us up to her house so that we could get away and we went. So it wasn't a vacation in the truest sense, it was simply a bit of time away. We has a wonderful time and came back semi refreshed and ready to carry on. But you see, we came home to a house devastated with our few precious things gone. You chose to take my children's jewellery, their game system, our computer monitor, my jewellery..nothing that would net any great source of income, but things that were precious to me and my children.

Now, I am a single mother, barely making ends meet as it is. So really, nothing has been replaced My dad gave my kids an xbox 360 but apart from that, I have had not the income to be able to replace everything. I guess you thought that I had insurance and that I could replace things and so you would strike again. And this time? This time you took the last 3 remaining things that had any value. You took my laptop, my kids new xbox and my camera with which I make a living.

Can I ask you one question Mr Thief? Are you done now? Have you satisfied your lust for money, drugs and power? Are you done with robbing me?

I ask, not because I am mad at you. I ask because you stole things far more important than our stuff. And I ask because I need to know how to  keep my children safe. For you see, you didn't just take our material possessions. That is the least of what you took. You took our safety, our sense of well-being, our faith and trust in mankind and you took the innocence of my children as they have had to wrestle with the knowledge that there are people in this world who think so selfishly that they would bring harm to another person. You took our sleep, as we wake many times through the night at whatever noise is outside, wondering hoping and praying that we stay safe.

You see, I raised my kids to know something different. I raised them to believe in the goodness of man. I raised them to trust that good people exist and that leading a good life, an honest life of integrity is the right way to do things. I raised them to not lie. I raised them with integrity. And in one selfish act you have shaken, and perhaps shattered everything that I have taught my children, who now question some of life's most core and fundamental principles.

They grieve the things they lost. I grieve the childhood you stole from them.

But Mr. Thief, I have chosen to bear you no ill will. And I have chosen to teach my children the same thing. Rather, we have decided to bless you. I don't know why you chose to do this., I don't know why you chose to inflict this suffering on us. But I have my suspicions. I believe that it is because you wanted drug money.

But you see, that makes me ache for your pain. Why? Because I know that drugs is a numbing agent. And for you to need drugs to numb must mean you are destroyed by the pain you carry. It is this thought combined with the thought my the fear my children now live with that causes me to cry myself to sleep at night and wake up crying through the night.. And so, Mr. Thief, I hope for you, I pray for you. I hope that one day something stirs in your heart that allows to know in a deep and tangible way something of the intangible things you stole from my children. But most of all, Mr. Thief, I hope and pray for your redemption, your freedom and your happiness.

While I cry, Mr. Thief, may you be blessed.

Make Me A Channel of Your Peace

I remember being 11 years old. I was to do a profession of your faith. What that meant in the CRC was that I would stand before the congregation and defend my faith, as to why I was old enough, wise enough, mature enough to make this choice. I remember scouring the scriptures, desperate to find something that I could speak on, desperate for a word from God.

And I found it. It was one of two times in my life that I felt a portion of the Bible jump out at me (the other time when I was contemplating leaving my x). I thought I bookmarked it. But I didn't. I remember wanting to share it with my dad but I couldn't find it. So instead I shared this:

Make me a channel of your peace.
Where there is hatred let me bring your
love.
Where there is injury, your pardon, Lord
And where there's doubt, true faith in
you.

Chorus:
Oh, Master grant that I may never seek
So much to be consoled as to console
To be understood as to understand
To be loved as to love with all my soul.

Make me a channel of your peace
Where there's despair in life, let me bring
hope
Where there is darkness, only light
And where there's sadness, ever joy.

Chorus:

Make me a channel of your peace
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned
In giving to all men that we receive
And in dying that we're born to eternal
life.


Years later, the concept of life verses. I was desperate for one. Little did I realize. In fact I was haunted by the fact that I didn't have one. And a few short months ago, I realized. I don't have a life verse. I have a life prayer. And it is this prayer: The Prayer of St. Francis of Assissi. The very same one that I spoke on when I was 11. The very cry of a little girl's heart. That was, no that is, my life verse. 


Life has been a shitload of hell. I refuse to pull punches, to sugar coat it, or to stand on Christian Political Correctness. I will call it as I see it. And my life has been one of hell, where I have walked into hell and come out, where I have seen and witnessed things that you cannot conceive of in your worst nightmares or horror movies. 


I have often wondered why. Is this prayer the answer to my "why?" NO! But it does allow me to understand what God has done with my hell.


I have not yet graduated. And yet, I see clients. And those clients report back to my supervisors and sing my praises? Gloating? NO! But rather glorifying God. For you see, when I was a small child, I did not know what I was praying/singing when I sang those words at my profession of faith. But God did. And He used all my experiences whilst holding me tight when I gave up, in order to bring in freedom to souls imprisoned. He heard the prayer of a little 11 year old girl and redeemed her life, in order to bring freedom to those He loves and glory to Him.


Today I was reminded of my life verse/song/prayer in a very poignant way. Does it mean the hell that I consistently wake up to is easy? Do I accept it with grace? NO NO NO NO NO NO NO a thousand times NO! But what I do know is this: God will continue to redeem it and use it. My life has been smacked with much lately. So much so that I don't think I can hold on. And yet, in those moments, I am reminded of this song. And this song soothes my soul because above all, I want to bring freedom and restoration and hope. I want to be the voice to those whom have had their voice stolen. I want to restore innocence. I want to redeem. I want to see freedom. I want to see joy. Not just for myself. My heart breaks and is broken every day for those I meet who are imprisoned but desperately crying for someone to listen, someone to show them the freedom they deserve, someone to even believe they are worth being loved and free. 


I know Hell. I walked into it. By God's grace I walked out. And I promise you this: it is my life's goal/mission/destiny to walk back in and carry the lost, the young, the vulnerable, the innocent and the broken back out. No one soul is not worth my walk back into hell, for it means their freedom. 


 Listen

So I'm moving

So if you missed it somehow along the way, I am moving. At the end of October, I will be in the new house. It looks to be quite nice, still a nice big yard, 4 bedroom, two wood burning fireplaces (insert permagrin here) nice wrap around deck, 2.5 bathrooms. It should be good. And yet I go with mixed emotions. Which considering all the nonsense that I have lived through since moving here seems a bit strange. But if you bear with me you will see why.

When I moved here, it was under horrific circumstances I had been raped by my x in our marital home and additionally I had been raped at school. And this house ended up being the house to which I flew (in some hiding I might add). And I settled in. It was my first home post separation that I had with my kids. And we made it our home. It was the VERY first home I ever felt safe in in my entire existence. Even in my childhood homes I did not feel safe. But here I did. It was me and my kids. And it was safe. Sure there were things wrong, holes in the foundation from grow ops, rat carcasses petrified to the walls, remains of someone living in my shed, psyc notes from someone with mental illness, but it was still MY home. And it was SAFE.

Then 2011 happened. accusations of fraud and threats of police reports, a robbery, my son's assault, a sting operation next door followed by a seizure of a stolen car, followed by a death, followed by someone calling the cops on me, followed by someone following my daughter home. And so, now, it's no longer safe here. My safe refuge is now a threat. I wake up every hour through the night hearing noises and i remain awake and hypervigilant. I am constantly looking outside to see what is going to get us. I tense at every car that drives by. Now this house is not safe and so it is time to move.

But I still have a month. I hope its a busy month and goes extremely quickly so that I can breathe and relax and sleep through the night again. Until then, I sleep as best I can, i relax as best i can and try not to be too panicky, I sleep with a bat beside me, and I pack so that we can move and then maybe just maybe

We can feel safe again.

Change

Change is an interesting monster. It is often said that it is for our best and yet it is also often said that it is entirely uncomfortable. And yet, there it is....always there... inescapable.

This came to my attention this past week over facebook. Facebook has instituted another change which has resulted in a major uproar. There has been many a status of disgruntlement, many a way to revert back to the good but OLD facebook. And then I got to thinking, the OLD facebook, used to be the NEW facebook and it garnered as much opposition as this current change.

And I wondered. I wondered why a simple adjustment in facebook could cause such an uproarious outcry. Why does something so inconsequential result in such frustration? Is a simple change in fb that threatening? I mean, come on, it is ONLY facebook after all. Are our lives so centered around something so mundane that a minute change can disrupt our lives?

Then I thought some more. It isn't the fact that facebook changed that is the problem. It is change itself. It is unknown, we anticipate that it will be uncomfortable and therefore we fear it. We cannot prepare ourselves and therefore it poses as a threat. We do not know this stranger called change. We do not know its intentions. We do not know its motives. Therefore, we do not, we cannot trust it.

And yet I look over my life. It has been one source of change after another. One adjustment after another. Some changes were welcomed, some were forced upon me. And yet, they exist, they happen. And so I adapt. I really do not have another option.

And what have I learned? I have learned to roll with it. To go with it. And to do my best to work with it. I found that when I fight it, it makes it harder. Why? Well because it will still happen. So I can choose to fight it. I can choose to embrace it. Either way it will still happen. I can be left behind, or I can move with it.

It's never easy. But I can look back and say that all in all, I have learned many things through change. I have grown, in wisdom and in character. Was it always smooth? Was it always nice and gentle and full of rainbows and sunshine? Not on your life. But I think that much can be learned from change, it can be a good thing. Good or bad depends on our perspective. What we learn depends on our attitude going in. Change can be a friend or an enemy. Which is it for you?

SWAT teams, GTF and CSI

This is a bit of an extension on the story of being refused rent based on having children. Somewhat but not directly related. In my only half coherent state, I have posted a few random statuses today. So time for the explanation.

Last night, after work, I had some errands to do. Including picking up Ron. I worked late, he worked late. So everything ran late. I ordered and got delivered pizza to the kids for dinner. And at 9:00 pm all hell broke loose. I received a phone call on my cell from the kids but didn't hear it. By the time I noticed it was quite late and I phoned them back right away. At that point, Jeff tells me that there were gunshots next door. Needless to say I was panic stricken. I left Ron and raced home. At this point, I believe the kids have been in the house by themselves for around 45 minutes. When I got to the house, this is what I saw. About 30 police, 5 dogs, the SWAT team and the Gang task force. I was not allowed anywhere near the house and I couldn't call the house as my phone was dead (mental note: get a car charger). One of the police let me use his phone and I talked to the kids for about45 minutes. Finally, things were cleared enough that they let me in.

What happened when I was gone was this: cops surrounded both my house and my neighbours (one piece of property, two houses). They had a wall of police lined in the street in front of the house. Cops were stationed at every corner of my house and the neighbors house. They tore the fence panels out of the back and trained guns on the house through the back alley. They had guns trained on the front door at every angle. It was at this point, that they, one at a time ordered my new neighbours out of the house, one step at a time. Walked them around to the side of my house where they dropped, cuffed and arrested them. By dropped I do not mean that they punched them out, I simply mean that they were ordered to get face down into the ground.

It was not until after midnight that the majority of police officers left. However, two were stationed at the house. One in front, and one in the back alley.

Needless to say, we didn't sleep. Today the kids stayed home. And today, more story unfolded. Around 11:00 am, four more vehicles showed up with a search warrant and they proceeded to dismantle the entire house. This morning CSI was happening before my eyes. Fingerprints were being dusted for, furniture and assorted household items were being dismantled, bagged and removed from the house.

And we sat in the house, exhausted, overtired and dealing with PTSD effects.

Between bits and pieces this is what I know: the house had been watched for a long long time. There was gang affiliation as the gang task force was on site. I overheard the police discussing kidnapping and there were drugs involved as well.

So today we sit. Tired, in shock, stunned and overwhelmed. Knowing i have to move. I knew that before this all went down. And still unable to find a residence.

How does this tie in with the BC Rights Tribunal? Well, that house was available for end of August. Had I not been denied that house based on having children, we would not have been here. My children and I would have been spared the trauma of last night and today. Will this impact my Tribunal complaint and case? That I don't know. But trust me, this IS something that I will be bringing forward to both CBC again and the BC human rights tribunal. Will there be any recompense? I'm not sure, but I am willing to try.

And so we still keep looking, hoping and praying for a new house.

August

We just past August. And it was my daughter's brithday. Now as far as we can figure, my daughter was a twin. But I have only one. I look at her and wonder. And I think she knows. And so in honor of my forever baby I repost this:

I Wonder What You Look Like

I wonder what you look like

And who you’re meant to be

Would you look like Daddy

Or would you favour me

I ache to hold you in my arms

And kiss away your tears

Stroke your chubby baby cheeks

And see the dimples that appear

I long to gaze into your eyes

Are they green or brown or blue

Is that a twinkle I would see

Of mischief through and through

In comfort do I long

To stroke your tiny head

To feel your soft fine baby hair

Is it blonde or brown or red

Although the chance has come and gone

To see your life mature

I know we’ll meet in heaven

Of this I am secure

Until that awestruck day arrives

I’ll hold you in my heart

And anxiously away the time

That we’ll no longer be apart

Human rights and discrimination

So, there has been a bit of an ongoing saga around my house. I have been casually looking for another house to live in. For a variety of reasons, namely health, it feels as if my time here is done. And so I have been keeping my eye on Craigslist to see what came up. There has been this house that would keep coming up on my searches. At first I figured it was too small but it was cheaper than what I am paying for now and well, I could use the money. Things have been a little tight around here lately, more so than it has been for awhile. I noticed that the house was managed by an property management company and so I called to set up a viewing appointment. That was on the 15th of this month.

I went to the house, and quite liked what I saw. A bigger back yard with more sun, a sun room in the house enough room for all of us and it "felt" good. Now for those of you that know me, that is crucial for me. I need something that "feels" good and this did. I indicated to the property manager that I was really interested in this house and asked what the next steps were to be. He asked me who would be living with me at the house. I told him it would be myself and my three children. This did not seem to be a problem at all. The property manager handed me the application and told me to go fill that in and fax it tonight and that there was no other interest in the place and so he didn't think that it would be a problem for us to get the place. I walked away feeling really good about it all.

So I went home and did just that. Filled out the application, faxed it in all within a half hour. I got a call the next day. It was the property management company wanting to confirm both employment and references. I asked at that point, when I would know if I got the place and they told me by the end of the week.

Friday I got another call. The property management had some questions about my income. I clarified a few things and they told me that I would receive a call on Monday.

Monday arrived and I called the property management company and I was told OVER THE PHONE, that I had not received the house. I inquired as to why as all signs and indications were pointing to the fact that the house was as good as mine.

This was the reply, "after we spoke to you, someone else applied that did not have children so we went ahead and processed their application and they are going to be renting the house."

I was shocked into silence! Because I have kids????? was the only thought running through my head. I stuttered something or other and ended the call.

I then posted on fb and a number of people including a man that I highly and deeply respect informed me that this was discrimination and a human rights violation. So off I went. To the media. Global did a lot of promising but never picked up the story and so I contacted CBC who picked up the story immediately. I contacted them on Wednesday and on Thursday both CBC radio and CBC television were trying to book me in for that day. CBC news booked but had to put it off til Monday due to the HST referendum, however, CBC radio picked it up that night.

So off I went on Thursday to CBC radio to do a live interview. As a result, a number of networking opportunities have come my way which looks like they will lead to a number of career opportunities. You can read more of that here.

Additionally, I found out that my case qualifies for me to file a human rights discrimination complaint with the Human Rights Tribunal.

So all in all, a number of good things have occurred and the ramifications also prove to looking good. Monday CBC news is scheduled to come in and do a news piece on this. Stay tuned for updates on this aspect of life.

Friday I recieved a call

One more Teenager

So I have one more teenager living in this house. And oddly enough, I still don't feel old enough. Do we ever? My beautiful daughter turned 13. Now she turned 13 at the beginning of the month, but I just had her birthday (with her girlfriends) last weekend. I have been planning this birthday for three years.

I remember when my girlfriend turned 13, her parents took me and her to Cloud Nine, and I literally and figuratively felt like I was on Cloud Nine. So I figured this would be perfect for my princess. But I expanded it a bit. We were originally going to have four of her best girlfriends (and subsequently these are the same girlfriends that are leaving her school, rather devastating for both her and me to be sure). However, not everyone could make it and so we ended up with three and my mom and myself. Three years ago I commissioned a jeweler to make Missy her first set of jewellery consisting of a necklace, bracelet and earrings. I have been saving money dearly to afford this night. So we had the girls come early to get ready and then ended up all spoiling her, fussing over her and doing her hair and make-up. At 5:00 the limo arrived and after the requisite pictures, we all piled in. I had had sparkling apple juice for the girls and at first they thought it was champagne. Lol! The limo took us all to Cloud Nine where we had dinner while we saw all of Vancouver. After dinner, we piled back into the limo and went home where Missy

opened her presents from her girls.

As well as commissioning the jewelry for Missy, I had the jeweler make the girls a matching necklace and I gave this to them instead of goody b

ags. The funny thing is that I gave the girls theirs first. Boy, was Missy disappointed as she watched the girls getting their necklaces while she (thought) she had nothing.

It was a beautiful night, where my princess felt like the star of the world. What better way can a girl spend her 13th birthday?

Can I do better? Yup! I already have her 16th and 18th planned!

And so, from this adorable little angel:

Emerged this gorgeous lady:

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

I have found that there is a theme cropping up in my life as of late. Words, actions and congruency. We have all heard the old adage, actions speak louder than words...but do they? I think I may come from a unique place here, but here goes.

Words are what we say, what we speak and they can bring death and life. Many people will say what they say marks who they are. It's a true testament of their character. They don't lie so what they say is true to who they are. So don't necessarily focus on what they do per se. For instance, the one who says that they love you but don't necessarily go out of their way to "show" it. You should know after all, for they will keep telling you.

Then there are those who go the other way and never speak the words but tell you to determine their love for you but what they do. Maybe they shower you in gifts, maybe they are constantly doing you chores for you. And they maintain that you should know they love you based on what they do.

But as far as I can see it there are problems with both of those scenarios. We ALL are guilty of saying things we don't mean. So if we are to take the word person and determine their love by their words we are in trouble. There is life and death in the power of the tongue. So what happens when there is a fight and the two of you start getting nasty with your words...then what? Which words do you listen to? The ones where they said they loved you? Or the ones during the fight where the hurt you? We all know it takes 10 positive things to erase one negative. So ten positive statements to erase one negative said in a fight. Talk about confusing messages.

Actions speak louder than words. So the person who "does" things for you but never tells you what you mean to them. How is one to rest in that? And to go one further what if their words and actions are in opposition? How do you reconcile between these two? For a hypervigilant person such as myself, actions as a gauge don't work. Why? Well because my life consisted of monitoring every action of every individual in order to determine my safety. So, and run with me here, what if my dad was one of the "action" people but he had had a hard day at work and then got into a bad traffic snarl? He know comes home and he's in a bad mood, walks through the front door, slams the door and throws his briefcase on his desk, slamming doors where ever he goes in the house. So I run up to give him a hug cuz he's home and I get pushed away. Well that action shows he doesn't love me and yet his actions are actually more indicative of his day than me. But he tells me he loves me.

So problems in both scenarios. As far as I can figure it, what needs to happen is congruency. Congruency between words and actions. If you say you love me, treat me as such. Show me as well as tell me. Congruency speaks to character, it speaks to integrity as a person. When we can align what we say with what we do, it is a testament on who we are. I recall someone I know who maintains that they are empathetic, compassionate, full of grace and mercy for people. And yet, they are full of anger, hatred, resentment and bitterness. I recall instances when the minute they felt an unjustice was done, to them or people close to them they turn into vile and poison spewing individuals. But then where is the grace and compassion and mercy that they will swear to you is WHO they are? Which are you to believe?

I think of someone else I know. Claims he loves this girl and always will. Yet none of his actions indicate such. He acts on impulses and then if caught comes up with some lameo excuse. He never makes her his priority. Lots of empty promises. How is this poor girlfriend of mine to believe that he does in fact love her.

Congruency is key. It speaks to who we are, it demonstrates our character and integrity and when we live in it brings untold amounts of peace!

An update on Jeff

So since the mail strike, our mail has been arriving far later in the afternoon. And today it arrived about 5 minutes ago. Upon seeing what came in the mail, it didn't take me long to make the necessary phone calls, one followed by another as I had to phone back considering I had forgotten some pertinent information. But before I get into all that, I am asking you to take a look. Take a look at this:

Stare into those eyes, look at that beaming face and smile and tell me that this kid does NOT deserve the best.

I have mentioned and alluded to this before, Jeff has had a rough life. The latest being the assualt on his person and attempted robbery. Well the police had done their investigation and along with Jeffrey's medical records forwarded the Crown Council. Now that was before the mail strike and I have not heard anything since. I wondered if they were going to do nothing and I thought about phoning to see but one thing got in front of another.

And then the mail arrived. In the mail was a letter for Jeff from Crown Council. Well Jeff is on holidays so I opened it there was a letter to Jeff. The accused is headed to court tomorrow and they want a victim impact statement as this will be taken into account upon sentencing.

Finally son has justice! Finally for this (previous trauma) he will be able to retain a sense of justice that that right was done because he stood up for right!

Praise God, my son gets closure!

Stanley Cup, Riots and Restoration

It's been a big year for us Canucks fans. In fact, big doesn't describe it. After '94, many of us didn't think we would ever see this day again. And the Canucks run and the Vancouver Spirit and Pride was reminiscent of the 2010 Olympics. And it would have been amazing. Winning the gold medal and then the Stanley Cup! And not one Vancouverite doubted that Lord Stanley's Cup would be finally making its way home...back to where it belonged. Such high hopes we had1 Such dreams we dreamt! And such pride and spirit we held for our much loved Vancouver.

And then the Bruins scored, not once, not twice, not thrice but four times. And our hearts sank. Our dreams for this year died and we wept. We wept individually and we wept as a city. I wept for my Grandfather. For you see, he was a Canuck and he would have LOVED to have been witness to this extraordinary year. But, my Grandfather passed away two years ago and was not here to witness our amazing, heart pounding and stopping, Vancouver rallying journey. So we wept. Some individually and all as a nation. I, wept both for my Grandfather, sad that he missed this year, thrilled that he was not here to witness the evil of some who claim to be our own.

And then the unthinkable happened. Riots, worse than '94 broke out. Now a day later, it has come to light that these riots were planned. It was not a by-product of a heartbroken city. It was a planned terrorist attack on our city, by it's very own! Many of us sat at home and watched the horror unfold before our eyes on our tv sets. Much like 9/11. Many of us were there. But ALL of us were horror stricken and outraged. Many innocents were beat, stabbed, bit and bruised. Our beloved fellow Vancouverites. All for the sick pleasure of some home grown terrorists.

This morning, our horror had not abated. But this morning the TRUE red and white spirit of our city came alive. For you see, today, we took and funnelled our anger in a movement to reclaim and restore our city and re-establishh our spirit. Today we came together, ignorant of the color of our skin and stood side by side to wipe clean the remnants of the terrorists. Today, rather than seeking revenge, we stood together and reclaimed what is ours.

And we have moved forces to capture those terrorists. Thanks to technology, many people took pictures. And many people posted statuses on their facebook. And again, we stood arm in arm and remained vigilant and forwarded all our pictures, and all the facebook statuses we could to the Vancouver Police Department so that we could do everything to ensure that justice is served.

Yesterday, we thought our dream had died. In my humble opinion, today our dream came alive. For you see, as much as I longed for and yearned for the Cup to come home, the Cup is not really a true symbol of who we are. The Cup is not the real dream. The real dream occurred today in Vancouver's streets among brooms, dust pans, rubber gloves and rags. Today the dream came to life as we as a city fought to protect, preserve, reclaim and restore what some thought they could steal from us. But you see, this dream cannot be stolen. For this dream involves mankind loving on and caring for one another. This dream is not about a Cup, it's about who we are as a people and what we stand for. This dream came alive. And this dream will always live on. It will always come alive when hope seems lowest. Because this dream is intangible and cannot be killed. This dream cannot die. And today, this dream LIVED!

Because I Can Can

Port Coquitlam celebrates May Day every year. I have blogged about it before. Well, this year, as others, me and the kids attended. My kids were involved in the parade and their school was running a carnival that I was in charge of. So as other years, this year I was there. The school carnival was located behind the band stand where all the entertainment was. And it was there, for the second time, that I saw the CanCan Dancers. When I first saw them, I longed to join them but for whatever reason was inhibited and did not approach them. This year I did. And so here I am,, an official Golden Spike CanCan Dancer!

So this past Saturday, we were in the Hyack Festival Parade in New Westminster. I am scheduled to also dance at Golden Spike Days as well as the PNE. I do believe that there is one more that I am scheduled to be at, but it is escaping me at the moment. So far I am having a ton of fun! I'm picking up the dances right quick and thoroughly enjoying what I am doing!

Things I have learned

It's been five years since my split. And I have learned many things along the way. One thing that I have learned, that I will never get used to, rather tolerate, is aloneness. As a single parent, unless you have a good relationship with your ex, you do it alone. You do all the "kid" things alone. The recitals, the school plays, all of it......alone. No other parent to sit and share joys with. And I would almost say, that that is the hardest part of this. Learning how to be alone in things that two parents should be sharing.

Take for instance, my weekend. My kids had dance competitions. And I did them alone. I drove them to the island....alone. I drove to the competitions....alone. I set up the tent....alone. I got them ready....alone. I warmed them up....alone. I watched them....alone. I celebrated with them.....alone. I wiped away the tears.....alone. I sat while they were off with friends.....alone. I tried to look busy.....alone. I tore the tent down and packed up.....alone. And then back where we were staying, I tucked them into bed and cuddled them......alone.

Alone is hard. You have to like yourself to be alone this much. And oftentimes, alone is when my demons get me. When my mind ruminates on themes, often negative themes. Trying to figure things out. Second guessing myself. Trying to figure out what when wrong and why. And then I find my mood and my spirits plummet as I try to make sense of things that may never make sense.

It's hard to be alone. It's hard to stem the battle of my mind. It's hard to not ruminate. It's simply just hard.......

Weeds or Gems?

I was out contemplating and pondering and I tend to do most frequently and I noticed a few things. The first being that I long for beauty. I crave it. My soul is thirsty for it. I seek it out. As a result, I seem to see it where perhaps not many do.

The most prevalent place that I am seeing beauty right now is in the backyard. Let me explain. I love flowers. I love how they look, I love their colors, I love their fragrances. BUT....I won't grow them. Why? Well one simple reason really. I'm terrified....to the point of phobia. For you see, when I was a little girl, my brother used to throw worms and snakes at me. As a result, I am terrified. And oh how I have tried. I have gardened and the minute I see a worm, the panic completely overwhelms me and I get nauseous and anxious and feel like I am about to toss my cookies. I have tried with gloves. I have tried to brave my way through it. The result? I run into the house. So I gave up. But I still love flowers.

And perhaps that impacts, I am not sure. What I do know is that I am appreciating the "flowers" that weeds grow. The dandelions, the buttercups and a few I have seen that I don't know the name of.

And that has made me think. Could we....are we capable of overlooking the "weed" portion of things and instead focus on the beauty of the flower? What if we could? What if we could change how we view things and instead of seeing the weeds, look instead to the beauty that lies within.

What would happen? Would it change how we see things? Would it change our perspectives, our thoughts, our outlook?

Trauma and its Extremes

Lately, I have been doing a ton of thinking about a ton of things. One that returns periodically in my mind is the subject of trauma and its effect that it has one people. We all know the typical PTSD type of things that prolonged trauma can cause: hypervigilance, a sense of foreshortened future, recurring dreams and flashbacks etc etc but one thing that I have noticed is that trauma causes extremes.

Think for a minute about trauma: when a person lives in continuous trauma it causes them to live in extremes. Extreme feelings, extreme reactions and extreme thinking. So much so that some simply cannot live in a sense of calm. Once the trauma abates, they don't know how to function so they may cause chaos and crisis because that's the only place they are comfortable.

Another way this manifests is in extremes. And I think this is just another outlet that occurs in place of chaos creation. Take me for instance. I lived in huge trauma as a child. And as a result I need things in my life to be extreme. Take my showers for instance. They are HOT HOT HOT. Hotter than most people can tolerate.

And touch. I know a lot of people that love to have a soft touch, maybe a gentle massage or the like but for me that drives me absolutely insane. If someone were to rub my arm, I NEED it to be with a good strong amount of firmness. If it isn't firm, if it is too gentle, then it drives me mental, almost to the point of hurting. I can't deal with it. It makes me antsy.

Another way I have noticed it is with exercise. In therapy, exercise is recommended as a way to combat depression. It releases endorphins and seratonin which is your "happy hormone." This then causes a lift in mood. So, as therapists, we recommend daily walks or hitting the gym for a half hour. And yet for me that doesn't work. For me, only exercise in the extreme causes a lift in mood. So for me, that means intense exercise for anywhere from 60-90 minutes. Then and only then, can I notice a life in mood.

Those are only a few examples that I have randomly noticed. If pressed I could likely come up with some more. So it made me wonder as to the extremes that trauma causes in people and how it impacts our preferences in things. I know for myself, I need things in extremes in order for it to register....

My Son

Today, I write to honor my son. My firstborn. One of the joys of my life! When he was born, I fell in love immediately. How could you not, when presented with such gorgeous curls?

My son, (all my children, in fact), but my son has had a rough life. Life has not been kind to him. Today I will speak of only two life eperiences. I use these two because the relate. When my son was in elementary school, he was bullied. I don't mean the school yard teasing that goes on. I mean hard core bullying. A couple of the "bigger" things come to mind.

1) Having multiple pink erasers thrown at you when the teacher turned their back
2) Walking up to a group of your "friends" in the schoolyard to have them turn and walk away
3) Having your clothes flushed

and the worst of it:
4) Being encircled by a group of boys who stand shoulder to shoulder, put you in the middle and beat on you.

Three years.

Three years

Three heart wrenching horrible pain staking humiliating embarrassing torturous nausea inducing, crying angry years we lived.

THREE!

And then Jeffrey graduated and went to high school.

And then grade 10 hit and Jeff met a wonderful friend, his best friend! We LOVE him. My son's best friend is an amazing lovable kind and compassionate friend. I also recently just met two more friends of my son's and they all seem to be of the same mold. And they are all lovely.

And that's where my son was last night. In the middle of the hell he walked last night, he was at least, praise God, with his friends.

For you see, last night, my son went for a walk with all of the aforementioned boys. Jeff in grade 10 and the rest in grade 11. They walked to the corner store. Travel in numbers we are told. And so, doing their due diligence, they traveled in numbers. And as they were walking back, a kid from school approached them. And he was drunk! And he was high!

And he proceeded to assault my son. He had a baton, thankfully he didn't use it. He attempted to rob my son. And he close fisted beat my son in the head 10 times.

My son was staying overnight at his friend's house. Thankfully, she immediately phoned the police. They showed up, too the statement of all four boys and went to talk to the other child. Yet can such a monster be called a child?

And after all that I took my son to ER. After waiting a ton of time, we found out that he has post concussive syndrome. Essentially, he very well could have suffered a minor concussion and has to watch the himself over the course of the following few days. He may have nausea, headaches and blank spaces.

Sure, that's the easy part. What is not seen is that all of this will have triggered into his bullying eperiences and my son very well may start showing PTSD symptoms. SO what have I done? Well, just like after the robbery, I have lined up trauma therapy for him. And we talk. And we hug. And we love on each other. And Mommy prays, that instead of destruction, God brings good things out of my son's eperiences.

And so this blog is to my son. It is too honor him. And to esteem him. And to show him that no matter what the world at large things, one mom and many people are pleased and proud of who he is. And, HE IS LOVED!

NO JABBING

K so I have been involved in a group trauma processing group for a long time now. And one thing we have learned is something that I think that every person would absolutely benefit from.

It's called the JAB principle. And it goes like this. In group we are forbidden to JAB. It's THE cardinal rule. And it's a good one for a variety of reasons. First, it ensures that everyone lives more authentically. Second, it disallows hurtful things. And thirdly, it enriches everyone's experience. So what is this no JAB principle?

Well it goes like this:

J= Judging (either good or bad)
A= Advice
B= Blame

So let's pick this apart. J=Judging either good or bad. So what is that exactly. Well a judgment would be a "you are _______" or a "you aren't _________" And frankly speaking it doesn't matter is the word that you insert is positive or negative. Judging another person is simply not tolerated. Why not good, positive affirmations? I'll explain that in a minute. A=Advice. Why isn't advice allowed? Well, let's be honest. Who really likes unsolicited advice? Sure there are times when we are seeking it but when that happens it is on our agenda, our terms and with whom we trust. So no advice. Because that insinuates that the person who is receiving the advice is stupid or inept or a combination thereof. An B=Blame. This one should be straight forward but in case it's not. In a trauma processing group, early trauma often will be triggered in a group setting. Now the important thing to understand here is that what is being triggered is early stuff and therefore, the person that triggers it is not responsible for it. So blaming them can be detrimental to people.

So what on earth do we do instead of JABbing? Well we use "I feel..." statements. Now we have all heard that effective communication is about "I feel..." statements and let's be honest. It get's old, really old. So how is this different? Well part of it would be the willingness to go deep and be authentic in your "I feel...." statements but let me give you an example. Read this sentence aloud, and allow it to sink into you.

"Wow, you are really brave!"

Overall, its a nice compliment. A positive statement. And it may make the recipient smile. All good things. Now read aloud the following sentence and notice the difference.

"Wow! You're vulnerability to go deep and face your pain has given me hope and courage that I might do the same!"

TOTALLY different! So in group, when we relate to one another, it becomes speaking how one person's work or story or pain impacts us personally. One is a nice statement. The other is a completely empowering and edifying encouragement.

So in group, we stick to NO JABbing and instead operate in transparency, authenticity and deep "I feel...." statements.

I wonder what would happen if all the world did that?

High and Hard Road

Quite some time back, maybe in the early beginnings of this blog, I remember writing a post about taking the high road and how difficult it was to do that, especially in light of seeing no measurable results. I'm not going to kid you, it still is rather difficult to rein in your flesh, put aside your desires for vengeance and take the road less traveled. In my case the truth. A bit more about truth in a minute.

What I have discovered, is if done long enough the high road does reap its rewards. Many times I have looked over my life and wondered what the purpose was in refraining from natural human instinct to get vengeance. It feels very justified in doing so. But time and again, I would force myself to adhere to the truth, not strike back, and nurse my wounds.

Lately (roughly about a month) I have been the target of extreme maliciousness and viscousness. Many personal attacks and many lies are once again getting bandied about regarding who I am, my character, and my integrity.

And I simply refused to engage. Was that easy? No! Every inclination in me wanted to strike back, but I didn't. Instead, I found the people that I needed to, the people who know me, the people who provide a safe space for me to cry and vent, and then they help put me back together.

I had a conversation with some of these other parties recently. I had done my processing to the point that I was able to simply quietly distill the arguments with the truth. Many accusations were thrown at me during the course of that conversation and I was able to simply reiterate the truth. And then I was able to bless. I'm pretty sure that the other party will not see it as a blessing but I know that my motives and intentions are true and pure and right. And I know that my heart is to bless. And furthermore, God knows that as well.

So hard road? YES! Worth it? I see it now, though I didn't see it then!. So what is it? Well, I think that its a few things. I think that the biggest thing that I am living in right now, is peace in my heart regarding the situation. I can think back on it and be ok. It doesn't wrack my innards. I also know my children are seeing a good godly example. Now don't get me wrong, they see me fall apart and be sad and be hurt, but they also have seen God heal that and for me to be peaceful.

And the other funny thing that happened? In the discussions I had held. Once the truth was presented, they had nothing to say, no responses. Sure there were attempts and arguments, but the truth held out and shut it down. Someone once told me that those who have weak positions will leave their positions and make it personal. And it's something that I have seen. Positions have been faulty and weak so character gets attacked instead.

Now that other bit about the truth. Two other observations: we have all heard the adage, you cannot change another person, you can only change you! But paired with that is this: often when you change what you do, or how you operate it forces a change on the other. And for me this last little bit rang true. My actions and words in this situation were based on what is true and what is right. And I did that regardless of how opposing parties chose to conduct themselves. And what happened? Their behavior changed. Long-term? I don't know. Does it matter? Nope! Because I have done the right thing and my heart is at peace and God is pleased. I could very easily have played the tit for tat game but frankly although it may feel justified in the moment, there is nothing gained. I would rather take the hard road, do the right thing and have peace reign. Don't get me wrong, I expect that this will be tested, at which point, I pray God reminds me of this victory which will then prompt me to do the same again.

The other thing about right and true actions? When you don't buy into the games and the vengeance seeking, manipulation and deception, the words in Proverbs come true:

Proverbs 25:21-22 (New King James Version)

21 If your enemy is hungry, give him bread to eat;
And if he is thirsty, give him water to drink;
22 For so you will heap coals of fire on his head,
And the LORD will reward you.


I think the point to this verse is to not return evil for evil but rather return good for evil. It's an interesting point, because I think a lot of people see this as a verse that "allows" the shenanigans of those against you. But having experienced this in the last month, it is so not about the other party. It is about your own freedom, your own heart, and your own peace. I was able to see this and walk this out. I saw how my good and just actions impacted the other parties. Let's just say that its not fun to be the other parties.

I don't know the future and I don't know if this will last. But I do know that I have come to a different place right now. It's been a hard month through one thing and another. But for right now? I am ok. I came out swimming after what felt like drowning and I hope that I can hang onto this lesson, let bygones be bygones and carry my life and conduct myself in a manner that continues to honor God. I hope I remember this lesson and should there be a next time, I will already have my actions (purposeful and determined, logical and rational and prethought) already worked out so that I don't react ( behaviours based on intense emotions).

Thanks for listening....

Not quite as easy as I thought

So this whole roberry thing.....recovering is not quite as easy as I thought. I figured that once I got the kids sorted out and safe, life would go back to normal. I'd replace their lost items piece by piece as I could and we could go on living. I am re-doing the kids rooms, and I am going to scrub this place down like mad. I have worked with some of the kids and will continue working with them to use this opportunity to purge things they no longer want. Give ourselves a living space makeover so to speak.

Then on a more personal note, take the kids to as much therapy as they need. Get them de-traumatized so they can remove this violation from their psyche and continue to live in peace and safety. That was my plan. And it's a good one!

And so we started. All three kids rooms have be cleaned and the mess the thieves did is straightened up. One of the rooms has been purged. All Missy's little girl stuff is gone. She is growing up after all, and its time to put a rest to her barbies etc... Missy's room has been repainted so that its a "new" room for her, not the one that she lived in when she was robbed. I will work with the boys on purging their rooms, Jeff won't need much if any but Jamie will...And then I will paint their rooms how they want them.

SO here I thought, in all my naievity that things were going well, as much as can be expected. I was being a good mom, doing the right things. Taking care of the kids safety needs, re-establishing our sense of safety and not letting the thieves win further by keeping us afraid.

And then I went to bed last night. And I fell asleep really quickly. We finished at about 930 and I was asleep before 1030 which for me is huge. And then I woke up, haunted byt the nightmares. Haunted by nightmares of more robberies, more break ins, more violations.

I should have seen this coming. I am a trauma therapist after all. I guess just somehow, I figured I wouldn't be as affected. Sure I was initially. I did a lot of crying and then through blogging and talking, and plans to re-establish ourselves, I seemed to have gotten a hold on things. Until...

I fall asleep, and I am alone and I am vulnerable......then they start....the nightmares creep in and the thieves continue to rob me. This time of my sleep. In my dreams they come back and force me to relive the violations we already once suffered. In my dreams.....they win.......

One Room Done....almost!

So this week, I had an amazing offer. Some friends of mine offered to come and help me out regarding painting the kids rooms. So today, we tackled Missy's room. Now I don't have a picture of her old room but it was a grey/pink and it had had horribly perverted and nasty things painted on it.

See, the kids haven't been able to sleep in their rooms because of the robbery. They haven't felt safe. So, as a way of helping them to feel safe, I figured that I would paint their rooms, how they have wanted them painted. So I worked with Missy on purging some things and cleaning her room up.

If you know my girl, you know she loves horses. She has a plaque in her room, that reads. "Cowgirl at heart." So, on Wednesday, she and I went to Home Depot to figure out what she wanted. Well, she decided on a western/horse theme so we discussed how that would look. Her thoughts were on a "barn" type look in her room and then decorated with horse accents. So we went to the paint chip and decided on a combination of two different browns to form a "leather" look and feel to the room. So that is what I did today, paint her room in browns to provide a faux leather finish.

And now, decorations can start to be gathered and put up. She comes home on Monday night. I can't wait for her to see. And now Jamie's room is next!

Making all things new

So, I'm sitting here looking around my house. MY house, but the house THEY were in. Today is therapy day for the kids. Hopefully, we can go back to sleeping in their rooms after today. OEI is a really good thing and I am hoping that the kids can focus on what happened and clear it. I am also hoping that the change in bedrooms will also help. But here's the thing, it feels that the entire house is violated. Which for me means a complete gutting and purging and rearranging. So this weekend is starting with painting Missy's room and rearranging mine. Going through boxes and assortments of things, and realizing what really is of value.

In an earlier post, I had written about looking for blessings in all this. Maybe this is one....I don't know. What I do know is that it feels a lot like work and it feels really hard and sad. It also feels somehow wrong that I am "forced" to go through my belongings and decide what I want and what I don't want, what is valuable and what isn't. Granted, I had already felt like doing that, but this presses it home so much more. Because whereas I felt like a spring clean up, now I feel like a gutting.

So here's to some gutting/cleaning/purging/new home (hopefully) today....

Trying to feel safe

So, so far my children have learned that life isn't safe and their home isn't safe. They don't sleep in their rooms. They fall asleep on the living room and floor and when I go to bed, I wake them/carry them into my room where the three of us sleep. I'm having a hard enough time trying to sleep let alone with two others in my bed. So the idea is to re-paint their rooms.

Maybe then it will be a new room for them.
It won't be the same.
It won't be the place where people came in and robbed them and went through their personal things.
Maybe then they won't feel or remember the horrific violation.
Maybe then they can rest and sleep again in peace.
Maybe then....

The kids are at their dads this weekend. I hope to get started on one room then. My daughter has chosen what she wants and it is the polar opposite of what it is right now.

Maybe then....

(pictures will come as the work progresses)

And the children do not sleep.....

It's 11:00 am. I am sitting on my couch. One of my babies is sound asleep on the living room floor. It's safe here. There was nothing to ransack in a living room. It's not safe in his room. They upended it. They ripped out his drawers. They tossed his clothes around. They destroyed his closet. They ransacked his stuffed animals. His stuffies.... So now it's not safe. We can't sleep in our room or our bed. For Jamie, his room and bed and night were already not good, night time was already traumatized for him. We had just begun to win that battle.....and here we are again.....



"Mommy, do I have to go to bed?"

"Yes baby, you do..."

I can't sleep in my room."

"Why, sweetheart?"

"Because they might come back.."

Do you want to lie down here?"

"Yes, please..."

"ok, and if I sleep in my bed, I will wake you up and take you with me, ok?"

"ok.

It's a weird process to walk out

So I have been living this violation in something akin to a detached manner. I have to function, and I have a list of things that I have to do in the next few days. One of those is to bring life back to normal as quickly as possible for the sake of the kids. And so I live this detached. When I feel like I have my space, I cry, I shake, I sob, I get angry, I shake, I sob and I cry. But those are my times, not when my children are around. For you see, obvious as this is, they feel violated. I'm used to that feeling so I know how to disengage from it and I do. I disengage so that I can live and cope and normalize life for my kids.

They aren't use to violation. They don't know how to quite handle it. And so it is left to me to show them how to continue living. Not an easy task. How do you deal with violation when you are 9? How do you understand it? How do you make it normal? The therapeutic answer is you don't. You can't. You don't have the skill set because you don't have the understanding.

And this is how they make sense of it....

"Mommy, I don't want to eat food anymore, because now that we got robbed, we are poor, and I don't want to waste money on food."

Easter...blessings and curses?

I wasn't sure exactly what to title this post so I am writing first and then maybe a title will come. Easter I was blessed. I was given a no expenses trip to stay at my girlfriends place. She was going to cover my expenses to travel up to her place and we were going to stay with her. My boys were going to be able to hang with her same aged kids and my daughter was going to be able to have little toddlers to "mother." It was a trip we were all looking forward to it. It wasn't to be a long trip but it was definitely anticipated. We got there and we had a wonderful time. My boys went dirt biking I got to relax and spend some time in some wonderful company. The Easter bunny came and a good time was had by all.

And then we left. It was a long trip back, the weather was crazy...hail, sun, rain, and the temperature was bobbing all over the place. I was really looking forward to sitting and unwinding.

We got home and all appeared normal. I went into the kitchen and started to settle in. And I noticed the computer tower had been moved and pulled out from under the desk. I looked over to the desk and there was no monitor and no keyboard. It took me three different times of looking at this situation to really realize what had happened. We had been robbed.

Immediately we started to look around at the rest of the house. The kids went to their rooms to see what was there and what wasn't. I continued to look around. Panic ensued and everyone started to race around from here to there as I tried to figure out what to do. I called the cops and while we waited the kids kept scattering trying to figure out what was gone. I found where they had broken in. I started to walk around the house. Every room had be ransacked, all the drawers pulled out and upended clothes strewn everywhere. Everything had been touched and everything of value that could be carried out was. The kids lost some precious precious items, their baptism and birth jewelery,their baptism jewelery, their Grad jewelery (in Jeff's case), their Ipods and docks. I lost all my jewelery, some that was given to me as a child. My first every ring, my wedding set, my grad ring and various other jewelery that was given to me on various occasions. Our electronics, the kids Wii system, our camcorder.....and that's only a start, that's the obvious things.

And we are all traumatized. None of us could stay here last night. The kids went to their dads and I busied myself. It was not a fun coming home to.

In trying to process all of this, a lot of various thoughts come to mind. One the violation. That's the obvious one for sure. But there are many others. I remember saying to someone, yes the things that were taken were "things" but for my kids it doesn't fall out that way. I'm a single mom, I don't have nor do I make a ton of money. The things that were taken from us, maybe other families would write it off as they could replace most of it. But that's not the case for me. I saved and saved for those things that my kids had. It was not simply a casual gift for them. Those gifts came at a cost of sacrifice on my part, to try and give them some things that their friends had, so they didn't feel so stupid or embarrassed to have friends over. I can offer so little. My kids don't go to summer camp, nor have they had a vacation, they don't get a ton of lessons in a ton of things. So our few precious items were just that...precious items. That are now gone. And I have no means to replace them.

I am looking hard for the Easter blessing in this.....so far I am not seeing one.

Some of you that are closer to me know of some other things that are going on in my life. This is so NOT what I needed on top of everything else.

And I am still desperately looking here for my Easter blessing......
Posted by Kristie at 1:14 PM

Thoughts and Ponderings

So this week has been a week of testing and it has left me with a myriad of thoughts and ponderings floating around in my head. This week seemed an echo of some things that I have lived for a number of years. Things that had caused a lot of destruction in my life and those around me.

I heard a sermon once, that stated that God will sometimes bring us through a desert multiple times to enable us to learn exactly the things He has for us to learn. And as I sit thinking back on the events of this week, this concept came back to me. And I wondered if this echo was to gauge my growth.

Don't get me wrong, this was not an easy experience for me to walk through. I screamed, I kicked, I cried, I yelled, I swore. I was very, very upset, hurt, and angered. And then I emailed my girls and phoned a couple of me. And they talked me down. And then I went through everything and picked it apart.

Picked apart the lies from the truth (there was no truth). I sat and picked apart every lie and found the truth of every situation. I then told myself the truth and held onto it. And every time this situation comes into my mind, I rehearse the truth again.

Taking captive of your thoughts, standing firm on the truth and yet.....

This has opened a whole host of questions that I ponder...which you can find in xistential girl...

It ain't easy being green....

Ah.. St. Patrick's Day, this seemed like an appropriate post. Forgive if this sounds whiny, but I am realy exhasuted right about now tired or spinning my wheels and going nowehre fast.

Some may say, what do you mean, going nowhere? Graduation is in sight. Yes it is, and I am exahsuted. I have grad school burnout. I have single parent burn out. I have not-able-to-make-financial-ends-meet burnout.

I'm tired. I'm tired of stressing and trying to figure otu how the next bill will be paid. I am tired of having no money to do anything when i see the posts of all my friends and how much fun they are having doing such and such and going here and there and I sit at home and stare, hoping to numb out or cry, wishing for a break in this living hell. I am tired of not having a holiday, and convincing myself that soon enough I shall have one, when soon enough isn't even on the horizon. I am tired of putting a happy face on in order to convince my children that this is all a good thing and it will make us better people we just have to make wise decisions and walk tings out by the high road, when I cannot even see the road.

I am tired of pulling everything out at the last minute in order to keep making thier lives a good thing and giving them their dreams which cost my sacrifice and my doing without just so that they can have. And then when I can't figure out how to make their dreams happen holding them as they cry, knowing I failed them yet one more time.

I am tired.

I am desparing

I am without hope.

and it ain't easy being green....

Continuing the Progresion

To continue our birthday month and updates. Monday Jeff officially turned 16. Time adn money didn't allow it before then so today we went and wrote the test for the Learner's license. Jeff was nervous as all get it, scared out of his tree and wondering if he is really and truly ready for this step into adulthood. So we went to the Motor Vehicle Branch, got out number an waited. I felt so empathetic.I know that waiting. How hard it really is and how every second ticks by like ten minutes while fear and anxiety mount and grow to overwhelming.

Finally they called our number. We signed in. More watiing.

And waiting.

And waiting.

They called his name and away he went. And now it was my turn.

To wait.

And wait.

And wait.

But you see now I was left alone and didn't need to put up a brave face.

My heart altered between racing a mile a minute and standing still.

And then I was the anxious parent who went and checked out where he was and if he was stuck but I had to peek around the corner and make sure no one saw me.

And finally, he came around the corner grinning from ear to ear. He passed!

ANd I cried! I coudn't believe it and I choked back the tears so he wouldnt see. We found out that he will get a "real" learners license in the mail as opposed to the paper.

And we went home and took these pictures: