To my civilian friends who say “I will never forget” that day…
It was a different kind of memory for those of us who lived on military bases with our families working that day. While folding laundry, talking to another military wife friend on the phone who lived in Ottawa being complacent about the security of our lives we turned the tv on. We both went silent and had to say goodbye while seeing the horror because we knew what that meant for our serving friends and their families. All kinds of things were happening at once I’ll never forget and too long to explain here but my fellow military wives “will never forget”.
My husband was a Sergeant in the Canadian Forces and was working that day. When he was finally able to call it was just to say… “We are on lock down” he couldn’t talk any further and didn’t know when he would be able to. My son Connor had just started his second week of first grade at an off base school 10 minutes away but at that moment it seemed like the other side of the world!!
I’ll never forget that day… Keeping a brave face in front of our children and spouses while being terrified of the immediate change in our way of life. This is something the wives mastered. Keeping s*** together when the s*** was coming apart and too often doing it alone.
When you say “I will never forget”— Please while remembering those souls stolen from the world that day also remember the families of the victims, the soldiers in our countries fighting the evil in our world and their families too! And Spread a little more kindness each day!
Just a quick thought on this dreary morning!
Our lives are glamorized on social media. You are seeing everyone’s best day. We use terms like “Facebook worthy” & “Instagram ready”. And how many times do we hit delete before we post? I’m so guilty of that myself! Life isn’t sunny and perfect and happy all of the time. Try to remember that when you’re having a rough day and Sunshine Sally seems to have everything going for her! Don’t compare yourself to these manufactured, filtered moments! We are all imperfect and just trying to get through the day! So, Happy Tuesday & try to look for at least one beautiful thing on this miserable November morning!!
JUST WANTED TO SHARE THIS. I COPIED THIS FROM THE FACEBOOK GROUP “LESSONS LEARNED IN LIFE” I WILL TAKE NO WRITING CREDITS – JUST SHARING! 💕
This stopped me in my tracks!
Every minute someone leaves this world behind.
We are all in “the line” without knowing it.
We never know how many people are before us.
We can not move to the back of the line.
We can not step out of the line.
We can not avoid the line.
So while we wait in line –
Make moments count.
Make the time.
Make your gifts known.
Make a nobody feel like a somebody.
Make your voice heard.
Make the small things big.
Make someone smile.
Make the change.
Make sure to tell your people they are loved.
Make sure to have no regrets.
Make sure you are ready.
Did you ever have an imaginary friend? What if your friend didn’t turn out to be imaginary at all? What if she turned out to be real? Well, mine did and this is the story.
When I was younger I wanted a sister so bad! I played with or talked about my imaginary friend as being my little sister. I was told by the adults that it was my imagination and when talking about it I was often hushed or dismissed.
Then it happened. I was in my mid-twenties when my mother came to me and confirmed what I always thought was imaginary or false memories. I did indeed have a sister and she was given up for adoption.
The story starts in the late sixties. The facts in the beginning were told to me by my mother who is sadly passed on now. She didn’t have an easy life and this was a particular difficult time for her. She was a very young mother of two whose husband (my father) was a marine deployed to Vietnam. While my father was overseas he went missing. My mother comes from a large family and instead of staying alone waiting for his return in another country she decided to come back to Canada during this time. Now, to protect the privacy of other’s involved in this part of the story I will save the details of how she became pregnant. She did make the difficult choice to put the baby up for adoption. My sister was adopted by a local family and had a happy life.
After my mother told me her story I couldn’t help but always have her on my mind. I thought about her quite a lot-Did she look like me, what was she like, was she happy, did our paths ever cross? In my early thirties while pregnant with my second son the urge to find out took over my thoughts daily and access to the internet became a common thing in most people’s households. Without my mother’s knowledge I started looking on adoption boards and sites with any stories of people looking for their birth families that had information similar to mine. I did decide to make a search post on one of these boards with the limited information I had. One night my mother called me saying she saw my post. I quickly pointed out that obviously she was interested in finding her too. With her permission and armed with more information I contacted Family and Children Services.
I don’t know how they do things now but back then this is how things were done. I submitted my name and info to a social worker who would input it into a database. If you do match up you exchanged letters with non-identifying information. When the social worker received a release of personal information then what followed is an exchange of emails and phone calls before a meeting can take place. The social worker was very blunt and made a point of letting me know it could take years if ever a match would happen. It was dependent on whether or not my sister had her information in the database as well. Well, three days later she called to say there was a match!
I was so excited to write my letter but more so to receive hers. In it, she mentioned she was an RN. I’m not the most patient person and since my sister-in-law is also a nurse I thought maybe something may ring a bell with her if I read the letter to her. It turns out my sister-in-law said she worked with someone who fit the information in her letter. I called the social worker to ask her if the name I had was hers and she said she couldn’t confirm it yet because she hadn’t received the release of info forms. I read between the lines and knew it was indeed my sister. A few moments later it was confirmed. My sister-in-law worked with my sister all along. It turned out there were several other “six degrees of separation” moments like this. Needless to say we basically disregarded the standard protocol and went straight to the reunion! This was the Spring of 2000.
At first it was a bit of a challenge for us to start to get to know each other. Since we lived far apart initially it was a long distance relationship for a while with some awkward visits. It’s taken a few years to get comfortable and grow our relationship. Although we were robbed of many memories sisters share of growing up together we are making them now! I look forward to the many more good times and memories we will have in the future! Real ones-not imaginary!!
Sexual Assault stories are once again the hot topic! Here are some of my thoughts!
This is more than just a women’s issue. Women don’t come forward with sexual assaults or harassments because it’s just easier not to. We risk being completely vilified, shamed, blamed and judged by the clothes we wear, the alcohol we drink, by a flirtatious conversation we had or a bad choice we made in the past.
What we can do besides shout or angrily express our thoughts on the injustice is use this as an opportunity to start open and ongoing communication with our children about boundaries. It’s not enough just to educate our daughters not to get themselves into situations alone, to watch their drinks when they’re out at a party or club and why society would blame them for wearing a certain outfit etc. We also have to teach our son’s. As a mother of two boys I know this is important. I also know they receive mixed messages from girls. I’ve read their texts and messages myself. Some are aggressive and read like a paragraph from an adult magazine. Regardless, my boys are responsible for their behavior and choices.
Therefore, it’s not just one conversation we need to have. It starts when they are really young. When they’re in the playground interacting with the girls on the swings or in the sandbox. It continues with how the boys behave at recess, in gym class and at lunchtime, in high school, online, at the mall etc. I like to think I’ve been somewhat successful in this matter. As my boys were growing up every opportunity I had and still have I discuss with them boundaries and consent and what that meant and means at certain times in their life. From not getting physical when you want the toy she has, not snapping her preteen bra strap and not taking advantage of a girl who may have had too much to drink just to name a few examples. I’ve gone over countless scenarios to ask what they would do and what they should and shouldn’t do. I’ve also made sure they are very aware of what consent is. Maybe, sometimes in great, uncomfortable detail. Sometimes they’re embarrassed. And sometimes they don’t want to hear it.
As a woman I feel the need for them to be taught respect for these boundaries in a loving and detailed, specific manner continually and it’s my responsibility to do so. They know they can ask me anything too. As a mother I’m also educating them and protecting them from any situation they may find themselves in so they make the right choice to treat another human being kindly and respectfully. And of course, so they don’t end up facing a wrath of a court room or worse, the wrath of their mother. We need to educate our sons because this is not just a woman’s issue.
Cause you never think the last time’s going to be the last time – you think there will be more. You think you have forever, but you don’t” – Grey’s Anatomy
My mother died at 62. My father died at 54. I just turned 50. If we average out our life expectancies based on our parents lives that gives me just eight more years to live. Eight short years to start living and doing and not regretting! Eight years to take an active role. Eight more years to do things for me and make choices for me.
About me? Who am I? Good question? As I look through countless bloggers to get ideas on ways to answer that question I read lots of “I’m a wife, mother, daughter, sister etc” Although these are worthy titles and I am these things- I don’t feel they would completely describe who I am.
After purging my spare room I came across some old film I had nearly forgotten about that I had converted to DVD. It was from 1959. What’s fascinating is most of my family members in the film have passed on. I’m fortunate enough to be in possession of many photos dating back to the early 1900s of my family. Yes, going through scrapbooks of memories is always nice but having live action video to watch is a treasure! You can see faces light up with smiles and laughter! Catching a glimpse of these personalities from another time is truly priceless! This is one reason I started this blog along with amping up all my other social media accounts to document my journey.
Another reason is to leave a history for my family to discover and catch a glimpse of my stories from my childhood and beyond. If the universe graces me with longer than my parents had then I have a responsibilty to make the most of my time and leave a legacy my children and their children can be proud of! The 5 words that flipped the switch for me and is etched in my mind “You are going to die” Maybe not in eight years but I have One life and it’s mine to live!
Please feel free to join me and I’ll try to keep it interesting!!
That’s right! And I need to come clean! The life I want to live in requires authenticity. How can I thrive and grow if I’m not living my authentic self? How can I inspire if what I put out is not based on my reality? I’m going to start with one confession today and save more for a later post. I feel a sense of guilt each time I post a filtered, photo shopped picture of myself. It’s hypocritical, really.
Today is about stopping the comparisons and pulling back the curtain on body image and aging. On the outside I may appear to others as confident, in control and put together because that is the mask I’ve worn. Truth is I’ve been afraid all my life of other people’s judgement. Hopefully, I can squelch one of the fears of being discovered as a fake and maybe help at least one person reading this who may have compared the image they see in the mirror to mine.
Here’s my confession:
- If you’ve compared your hair to mine, I’ve been colouring the gray out for years.
- If you’ve compared your face to mine, I’ve had chemical peels, derma-rolling, micro-needling, fillers and botox.
- If you’ve compared your body to mine, besides various, relentless diet programs and an eating disorder I’ve had an abdominoplasty & liposuction.
What you’ve seen is my highlight reel. An edited representation of me. We need to unite together as women and accept ourselves as is! We shame each other because we’re too big, too small or not aging gracefully based on ridiculous standards.
Young impressionable girls are watching. It’s a struggle enough to be a teen never mind one who thinks they need perfect hair, eyebrows or a perfect proportioned body and older women who are “too big” or “too small” or ‘too wrinkly”! Please, while your hiding behind your keyboards and smart phones spewing negativity and hatred about someone’s appearance look at your daughters, granddaughters, sisters, wives and girlfriends and think about whether what you’re saying is something you want them to read before pressing send!!
Let’s be real. Let’s be authentic. Let’s support each other and be kind, be positive and be enough because we are all beautiful and imperfectly perfect!!