I'm Not Saying There Was Nothing Wrong...

No sane person likes conflict. The most basic instinct is for survival and conflict kind of flies into the face of that.

This is what I'm telling myself in order to take away the sour taste of having lied to escape a conversation. No, my physical survival wasn't on the line, but my mental well-being was. I needed a sounding board. I needed to be heard and validated, as I had done for this person over the years. This one time that I opened up, I was shot down with everything I had done wrong during the course of my life, with a line thrown in about, "...so you really should be more understanding of the situation you're in."

I did consider calling out this person: "Look, you're being an ass and you sound like you really enjoy rubbing my face in my mistakes." I also knew how that would end: "But it's the truth. Your feelings shouldn't be hurt because I'm not saying anything that isn't true!"

There is a lot about myself that falls short and needs to change. There is an almost equal amount that has changed drastically. This person will never see the latter. Even as she remarks about how much she has changed and grown as a person, she comments about aspects of my life that haven't held true for years. She's dismissive when I point out that certain things are different.

I don't need that. I've beaten myself up over my shortcomings for a very long time. I have worked - am still working - on becoming somebody that I can be proud of. There is no point in keeping company with somebody who seems to quick to remind me that I fall short.

So she and I will part quietly, without words or confrontation.

Unless she asks, in which case I'm letting her have it with both barrels because she'll have started it.

(Just kidding. I'll keep it civil. I've really had enough.)

Eleven Years

It's been 11 years since my mom passed away. February 22nd has been the day that I missed her a little bit more than usual and recalled exactly how I felt when my dad woke me up to tell me she was gone.

Today, I didn't feel anything. I did the things I normally do: running errands, cleaning the house and praying that if there is a God that he'll prevent my neighbor from blasting that godawful wannabe rap. There was no regret or nostalgia. After all of this time, the anniversary of her death felt like just any other day.

I thought about what was different and felt sad when I had my answer: I have lived without her long enough to build a life in which she has never had any part. She never got to meet my son. I never sent postcards from San Francisco, Vancouver or Toronto, because she wasn't there to receive them. I've spent the last few years making my own holiday traditions, acting without concern for what she might have to say about anything.

I have learned to exist without her love.


I used to be afraid when I'd think of this happening. Did moving on mean that I would forget her, that she didn't matter? Would it make me a horrible person for being able to continue on a path that diverged from the one where I'd walked with her?

I feel that it's none of these things and that, like everything else, this is just part of the order of things. I don't love her any less. I am not being disloyal by managing to live on.

Sugar Coma

This morning was so cold that my face started to go numb shortly after I exited the bus. It made me think of when I had moved from San Diego (my hometown!) to San Francisco and I thought the latter was so cold. Eventually, I moved from San Francisco to Vancouver, felt the season shift into winter and thought it was so freaking cold. From Vancouver, I moved to Toronto during their coldest winter in 50 years. I thought I was going to die.

Remembering made me laugh to myself and wonder where I'll end up next.

Today, it happened to be ThimbleCakes. I only meant to pick up a coffee, since I'd purchased an Auntie Loo's brownie from the natural food store that was next door. Upon entering, I noticed that there were day old cupcakes on sale for 40% off. I remembered that Lent is tomorrow and that I'm giving up sugar; if I didn't get a cupcake, I would surely regret it in the weeks to come. (It's a mocha cupcake. I will be inhaling it as soon as I finish this post.)

(It's the end of the post. I had more to say but I have priorities, which is a euphemism for cupcake.)

Wake Up

I woke up feeling as if my heart was going to burst from my chest. My inner voice (not the one that tells me to burn things) said, "Don't fight it. It will lead you to where you need to go."

I wonder if that's into temptation. That could be interesting.