For The Love of Fine Motor Skills

Grade 9 was an interesting year for me, first year of high school. I joined art club and I had my first boyfriend. He was a gifted guitarist, with long black hair and an Iron Maiden shirt. We dated off and on the whole year, but my father did not really approve. My father thought it would be better for me to just learn guitar myself and stay home, boyless. I promptly had two guitar lessons before my father decided that I should learn to take the bus there. I never went back. In reality, it may have been walkable if I had tried to figure it out, but this wasn’t the first activity that died because family didn’t want to drive me somewhere. I did learn a little, mostly playing while on the phone with a guy friend guitarist. Most of my time though, I spent studying science, drawing or on my computer.

In grade 11 shop class I hurt my hand, my left hand. I was using a band saw and accidently cut over a tiny knot. The one side chipped off and within half a second my hand went into the saw. It left what looked like an imprint of a golf ball. They sewed it up tightly and it took a year for me to make a fist again. I never played guitar after that. To this day it still feels weird when I make a fist and I don’t enjoy using my left hand.

My first and only year in university was rough. My mother was constantly calling me freaking out. My father used me being away as an exit sign. My roommates were nice but I was in the hardest program. They didn’t really understand Saturday morning classes.It just wasn’t great. I ended up doing a six week outpatient program through the hospital there and was diagnosed with PTSD from previous trauma. I was put on antidepressants and sleeping pills. Over the next few months I kept feeling worse, and kept complaining to my psychiatrist about it. Every time he upped the dose, ever single time. It was at the point where my dose was increasing every week or two weeks but I wasn’t even going in. I was just going to the gym and going home. I was dieting, losing weight, studying and spending every day alone. In hindsight, I think the meds weren’t a good match for me and were making me sicker. Or they worked well like speed and I was addicted to them. I wasn’t even sure if I was getting sicker, but I knew I was getting a bit fucked up on them.

One day,  I tried to kill myself. I had been suicidal off and on my whole life so this wasn’t so new.  I had a boyfriend when I left for university and he called me to tell me he fucked one of my friends. My first suicide attempt and this one felt very similar. It was sudden. It was impulsive. I wasn’t even that sad. I have no idea. I just know I took the rest of my sleeping pills with some milk, which I’m allergic to. Luckily, I drank enough milk that I threw up some. I can’t honestly say I was that heartbroken over this guy. It was more of 1) I think the drugs were making me high and I wasn’t in my right mind and 2) I was really at the end of my rope with everyone. I had been very let down by everyone and the fact that it was with a friend, a friend that I had slept with myself. It was too twisted. It was cruel.

A couple hours after I hung up on him, he checked up on me. I was fucked up on sleeping pills and he had me rushed to the hospital. I was there basically overnight, sleeping. In the morning I told the doctor I freaked out over a boyfriend, it was stupid, I don’t care anymore, and I regret it. My memory is kind of foggy after that. I have no idea how I got home. I do remember the nurse kept trying to make me leave, saying they needed the bed, but I was so tired I kept falling asleep. The first three months were the worst. I fell down the stairs, a lot. The next psychiatrist I saw thinks I had brain damage. I know that I had PTSD memory issues before, but they seemed worse. My motor skills were ruined. I managed to improve my gross motor skills for the most part before I got home from university. I did get a couple bad bruises falling down the stairs after I got home, but I started dating a body builder, who trained me at the gym, and I got more coordinated.

The thing I didn’t realize, the thing that I find the hardest now, is my fine motor skills are not great. My hands get shaky when I try to do some small things. I was excited to learn ASL until I tried doing the alphabet and was horrified. I’m relearning painting and drawing. Taking a ten year hiatus didn’t help. I bought a new guitar but I know it will be much harder to learn than it was pre-band saw, pre-OD. I have no idea if there is any real life point to all this but it feels cathartic. It feels like I am healing my mind and body.

Sometimes I wonder if I was supposed to go into art instead of science, but then I think of how my son has a rare autoimmune disease. When he was sick I did do a lot of research, and I do feel like I had a good base for understanding what I was reading. Maybe everything happens for a reason. Maybe this is how everything was suppose to end up. Me, starting from scratch, starting over.

The Magic of Gavin

I have always wanted two or three kids. I was actually leaning towards three but my ex made the argument that all travel deals are for families of four. We tried for a second baby when my daughter was five months old but I was breastfeeding too much. I had hoped that once she started solids, she would nurse less, and I would get my fertility back. That never happened. Refusing to be frustrated by the whole thing, we decided to plan our wedding and I got an IUD.

Four or five months before the wedding the baby talk came back up. I wanted both my children at the wedding. My ex wasn’t sure if he wanted the second, fearing it would break down our relationship. He wanted more us time. I was pretty fixated on wanting another munchkin. I got my IUD out 14 weeks before the wedding, figuring my dress would still fit if I got pregnant right away. Two weeks before the wedding we found out we were expecting. Unfortunately, it was right before my bachelorette party. It was worth it though. My daughter was a beautiful flower girl and my son was a tiny six week fetus. His due date was 11/11. If you are into the spiritual world, that’s a pretty magical number.

The weirdest thing about my son’s conception is that my twin flame messaged me the night before we conceived. We hadn’t been talking but he had been reaching out every few months. Usually it was just a sexy photo sent when he was drunk. Hello Friday night 2 am. I’m not going to lie, it was hot as fuck. Thank you for your donation to the cause good sir.

Besides the 11/11, which he didn’t end up being born on, there is a bigger reason why my baby is magic to me. I had been sick with FPIES my entire life and I had given up all hope on figuring my stomach out. Sometimes I was sick, sometimes I was fine. I felt like I could never be thin because it was like if I got too hungry I would puke and get a migraine. Breakfast was always difficult. Definitely no fluids before food. My daughter also has a minor case of FPIES that would never have been diagnosed. She would have just been deemed to have a sensitive stomach like mommy. Going on an allergy free diet for Gavin was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, mostly because of the backlash of other’s pushing formula instead. It was the best thing I’ve ever done though. He was too allergic to soy and dairy to have any formula we tried. Being on the diet for him, I suddenly felt better. I remember one day being shocked that I went five hours without food and I was fine. Being able to eat salad for a meal is huge for me. I used to fixate on absorbent foods. I feel as if that little guy saved my life. I feel awful that he had such a rough go the first year especially. He is doing great now and eating almost everything. He had such a severe case but recovered faster than expected. I think breastfeeding helped his gut heal faster but I will never forget what he went through for me.

I Miss My Father

I stopped living with my dad when I was sixteen and we stopped talking when I was eighteen. The last words my father ever spoke to me were “When’s your birthday?” over text, after my grandmother’s funeral. I’m sure he was just verifying but it is kind of ridiculous that these were his last words to me. A few years ago I told my step sister to give my dad my cell number in case he wants to meet his granddaughter. I didn’t hear from him. Maybe too much time has passed. It’s too awkward. Maybe he doesn’t want me back.

I wish I could just hug him and pretend no time has passed. It isn’t just because my life has turned to shit. My dad is a really cool guy. He is actually who I am the most like. I wish I was more successful so I could go and he could be proud. One day. My dad is a high school drop out who taught himself computers and started his own business. He is insanely smart and business savvy. He kept me sane more than he realizes. He doesn’t know how rough I found living with my mom on the weekend. I knew I had a hard time recovering and he got frustrated I kept coming home depressed.

I wish things went differently. I wish I didn’t move out so easily. I wish I wasn’t so soldier like. I wish I could have cried and said I love him, that I want to live with him full time. If I lived with him full time I would have been way less depressed. One day I want to tell him sorry for being such a failure and embarrassing him so much.

Losing My Virginity

Before losing my virginity I was molested during a sleepover. I woke up with a naked boy onto of me and he forced me to do other sexual acts with him. We never had actual sex though. A year or so after it happened a friend of mine came up to me at school. She said “don’t worry, I had sex with Scott too”. I was mortified. I was worried she had been raped, which she hadn’t. I hadn’t told a soul about what happened and I was scared it was my fault. With my friend, it was consensual though. Part of me regrets not saying anything, for fear it happened to another girl. The other part wants to let it go because he was only a teenager.

He told people we had sex, that’s really something I haven’t thought about much before. I was eleven years old when it happened. I kind of thought I was younger but I remember her telling me and at the time other people in our school were having sex. Figuring out my timeline of when everything happened has been something I’ve been working on for months. Shortly after my friend broke the news to me, I had sex. I have no idea why. It was with a boy I wasn’t dating. I was in grade 7 and he was in grade 8. We were hanging out at his house one day after school. It was honestly the second I became sexually aggressive.

Maybe I just needed to get my power back. Maybe it was just that he was cute and puberty is hormonal. It was a warm beautiful day, he was a great kisser, it was fast but it was great. Honestly, if I didn’t happen to be on my period then maybe we would have dated after. I didn’t really care. I didn’t really think of my virginity at all. I had never even thought of the guy as more than a friend before it happened. I was very Aries like. Impulsive, in the moment. I know it would have never happened if I hadn’t been molested. I would have gone to high school a virgin, dated and it probably would have been cheesy as fuck. I was now impulsive, and sex was completely meaningless to me.

I’m trying to give it some meaning now. It seems ridiculous since I’m 28 and I have two kids. I could never be called a virgin. I could never play a good girl for very long. Maybe I just want to pretend. Maybe I want to erase my life and start over. Unfortunately, no matter how long I’m celibate for, my past still happened.

Theories for the Skeptical & Spiritual

I believed in nothing and everything at the same time. The concept of God has always bewildered me. If there was a God, a single God, who created him? As time went on I began to believe if there was a God, she was definitely a woman. Women have the wombs of creation. Women literally grow, give birth and breastfeed new humans. Maybe God is a man and he contracts out the have having babies, but I think that since God always needs to be worshiped in religion, that she likes credit for creation. At times I have wondered: is God was a triad of Adam, Eve and Lilith? At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter who God is because penises and vaginas are just parts. They are fun tools. Souls are genderless. Maybe God is everything and anything she wants to be, with the right to change her mind whenever she wants. Maybe 2000 years ago she wanted to be a man for a while, getting caught up with society, thinking it was the more powerful gender. Now the tides have turned, and she definitely wants to be a woman. Maybe God has the biggest ego of them all.

The twin flame experiment could be considered God’s retirement. We are in our teenage years and it is time for us to do our own laundry and take out the trash. People pray to Gods all over the world and ask them to fix their problems. God is always shamed for not doing enough. Maybe God is real and it is all magic. Maybe it is just time we learn to manifest. We become little Gods of our own lives. Maybe God is a mother and wants us to be successful. The tools are around us. Maybe she doesn’t retire at all. Maybe the twin flame collective is an intervention. Believe whatever you want to believe. It doesn’t matter if you believe in God or not. It really doesn’t matter to me what God you worship. I personally don’t believe there is a God today in the way that we think.

I have unique ideas rooted from many religions. As I learn and grow, my beliefs may change. I think the point of religion and God is to move forward the human race. Religious texts are full of stories and lessons. They are teachers. Don’t be an asshole. Learn the rules of the land. Back in the day, where there was religious persecution, believing in God just made practical sense. It was a great way to fit in, join a group, survive. Churches can do a lot of good like food collection, helping the impoverished, having a group to look out for you when you are sick. The problem I have with religion is interpretation and corruption. Competition, believing that one religion is better than the other, and God only loves you if you were born into a certain one. If you don’t do some ritual, you won’t get the presents. Religion is fucked up in my opinion, sorry. That is my point though. We are all just going through experiences and learning and growing. Our souls are all growing. Maybe we aren’t looking for a way to impress God with our religion; what if we are looking for soul growth and experience. I am just theorizing. I am just questioning everything. That’s what I do.

I’m skeptical about everything and now I am skeptical about magic. Interested though. My practical, logical side may always gets in my way. My fear of looking insane really doesn’t help. I’ve always believed in ghosts and aliens. I wasn’t sure if I believed in angels. Maybe angels are just people put here to do good. They learn about the dark side of the world and then transmute the energy. Maybe angels are martyrs and unsung heros. Maybe God, if she is real, hopes everyone is her little angel, like a proud mother. If we are all her children, maybe she wants us all to learn and move forward. I don’t believe in hell as an afterlife. I believe in duality. I believe that there are so many people on earth living their hell right now. Maybe when you die you have a choice to come back to earth or to work as a spirit/angel. We are all just stuck here and there are jobs to do. Where do you want to apply? What do you want to study next? Do you want to do the work?

I believe in karma but I come from a gambling family, so I see it a little differently. I imagine my passed great-grandparents up there running things. In my mind, my Anna is still a bookie, running bets on my life; who I will turn out to most be like or if I’m stubborn enough to really become a monk and wait for my twin flame. Maybe I am extremely famous in the spirit world and they are playing a game. I don’t necessarily think if you do something wrong karma is going to hurt you just cause. I think that when you do good things, towards the collective good, you are more likely to be accepted and succeed. If you are dishonest or hurtful, people might remember and punish you. I think that if you live your life as a shit person maybe you don’t go to hell, maybe you just are at the back of the line. No one is pulling favours for you, you have less spiritual help, you get last choice on the job list. Want to come back to earth? Too bad, no free babies to go into. The collective good is protecting our race and good vs evil is fighting to flip people.

I imagine that some real good souls, albeit egotistical or competitive souls, come into difficult lives on purpose. My mother in law once scolded me for never doing anything the easy way. I like to think I am one of these souls. Turn something from nothing. Transmute negative energy into positive energy. Life will be a fight, but some people get off on that. Some people love being famous. Some people love the battle. Maybe you can play a game and before you come to earth you set certain rules, or maybe you get thrown in like a lion. There may be too many variables to predict the details. You plan out a general outline. You pick your family. Maybe as a soul I said “I have children. I am reunited with the love of my existence and we are married. The one that got away too fast. We love each other unconditionally. We never forget each other, even when life gets in the way. I overcome any obstacle. I am a badass woman. I am an amazing mother. I teach the world how to love babies properly. I solve problems. I do whatever I want and am given the credit I am deserving of. I bring people up with me.” Maybe as a soul you know all about manifesting, and you know you can’t account for the details. You can just intend to do something good with the world. You also can’t put a timeframe on it. Maybe I am kicking myself for including the word obstacles because I just had to be so cocky. Honestly though, I wouldn’t change a thing. My good is on its way. Why mess with it?

This Is Why I Listen To Korn

I mentioned in an earlier post that I love Korn to channel my rage and emoness. I listened to Korn a lot in high school. I had a terrible relationship with my mother. Putting on my headphones and tuning her out was a lifesaver. I think it was my mother who introduced me to Korn. She had a cd display I used to poke through and load onto my computer, back before Apple Music. Korn was basically my suicidal playlist except when I was freshly divorced and I had Never Never on repeat, that was just fun.

My mom’s cousin and I have become good friends as I’ve grown up. Technically part of the older gen, we just get along so well. She texted me on Sunday to let me know some of the things my mom said before I got incarcerated into the hospital. My mother had told her I was wandering the streets, off my meds, and one step from losing the kids. None of this was true, besides the meds. Actually, the police had specifically told me just “no crazy walks” which I giggled and happily complied with.

Why would my mother go to the police against me if I am not a raging lunatic? Well, I think revenge. I hate to even suggest it for fear of sounding like a paranoid schizophrenic. We have always had issues, and she has always been the most selfish woman I ever met. She scoffs at the fact that I have PTSD, not believing it. The few times I have been hurt and needed the support, she didn’t believe me or abandoned me. I’ll probably blog about the things individually because I’ve been finding it therapeutic. My mother was always physically and emotionally abusive, until I was sixteen and I pushed her out of my room. My mom acted like it was the most violent thing in the world and wanted to call the police on me. I was excited for the witnesses. The happiest I ever saw my mom was when I had chickenpox, the one time I can remember that I let her mother me. I’m a little scarred from pulling out some pox to see their roots and do little autopsies on them. Hello, yes, I’m a science nerd.

My mom throwing me to the police and locking me up was her version of helping. She thought I was out of my mind for not complying with my ex’s every whim. He was withholding the kids when I didn’t think he had a legal right too. Unfortunately, I had gotten myself so physically sick from taking meds I was allergic to for three weeks that I really needed rest. While people were saying I was not myself and crazy, I was in bed with chills. I was dehydrated, got an UTI and fever. The thing that made me look the most mentally unstable was that I hadn’t cleaned my house since my kids left. Again, I was sick, who gives a fuck about toys on the floor, and my kids weren’t even back yet.

I’m so sick of these people. I am terrified that I am 28 and my mother can ruin my life so much. It took me four weeks to get out of the hospital because I was too angry. The one doctor actually suggested I might fight a stranger on the street and get hurt. To me this is ridiculous. I can get mad, I can yell, so what? I’m mad at being basically arrested. I’m mad that I was locked up based on a lie. I’m mad that my mom is going around trying to rally everyone I love against me, trying to stage some ridiculous intervention because I hate her. I don’t want my mother in my life and that makes me sound like a mean, terrible person. People haven’t had to live through the abuse I have, so I’m sorry, not sorry. I need her to stay away from me.

Would You Ever Triad?

I have heard of triads before within the bisexual community. I’ve watched some documentaries on it in the spring. Personally, I have no experience with this coupling, three people all together. I find it fascinating.

I know first hand that bisexuals can be slut-shamed. Accused of not being able to make a decision or just looking for attention. For me personally, I am equally attracted to men and women. I have only dated men because it is easier. I have gone on one date with a woman. It was nice. I had two more ask me out but they weren’t my type. For me personality plays a huge role.

The only reason I would personally want to long term date two men was if they were also in a relationship with each other. I did suggest to my twin flame that we try to triad with his current girlfriend. I have no idea if they would actually be into the idea because the conversation didn’t get far. I think for it even to be a conversation, all parties would have to deal with their jealousy and insecurity. I don’t know which triad arrangement I would want more. It would totally depend on the people and their personality. Stability and happiness are top priorities for me, not number of partners.