I don't remember any of her birthdays...

April 30th. Mom would have been 66 today.

I think it's weird that I don't remember any of her actual birthdays when she was alive. I was just to little to remember. I can't even tell you what her favourite kind of birthday cake was. Or if I ever made her a present or if I ever helped pick out a present for her what it was.

When I was in elementary school I can remember my brother would always give my dad "a bottle" on her birthday, and sometimes on their anniversary (I have no clue when that is). A bottle of rum to be exact, the brand with a picture of a man on the label, I couldn't tell you which one it is. I'm not a big rum drinker. But dad used to be. A rum and coke, every dinner time. By the time I was 11 I could make it for him. I knew exactly which line (1.5) in the jigger (shot) to pour the rum to and then put it in the nice glass with 2 cubes of ice and then fill it the rest of the way with diet coke (carefully so that the foam wouldn't go over the glass).

About ten years after she died, my sister was confirmed on her birthday. My dad, brother and I went to the service. It wasn't at our home church, it was at the one she was attending at the time. Two of our family friends that she knew well from that church participated in the confirmation by laying their hands on Ruth during the prayer. None of us were part of that. Whatever.

Other years I had exams on this date. And some years Dad would tell me how old she would have been. Like last year he told me should would have been 65 and we would have had a big party. I remember thinking, what the hell? You still dream of your deceased wife's possible birthday parties? That really hurt me.

I miss her today. Which sucks, because I have a lot of work to do today, which I'm looking forward to but I know that this is going to lurk over me the entire day.

They Soured My Milk Today

Today as an awful day with food. At lunch time I made my supplement and topped it with banana slices. I've had it this way many times before and have liked it. But today it just tasted like slime ad the texture was slimey. So after a couple of bites I flushed it. I just couldn't eat the whole bowl. I spent the next 45 minutes trying to convince myself to eat anything, but I couldn't. I talked to a 2 friends on the phone and asked them for suggestions, this has worked in the past. It didn't work today. Nothing that I can usually eat just because I tell myself I should eat anything because I need the calories, would work today. In my mind everything was going taste gross. I ended up eating some baked lays chips and 1/3 cup of granola, which I was feeling ill from when I stopped eating it.

12 hours later, I still can't make myself eat anything. Even at youth group, all of the youth wer eating freezies and fudgicals, but I didn't even want to watch any of them eating them. I drank a non-fat latte during youth group, probably the most calories I had today beyond the chips. I really wanted to make myself eat because I had pilates this afternoon. Last week at the beginning of the session, Ranni asked me if I had even eaten enough that day to do pilates, I was afraid she would ask again and it seemed like if I was going to be burning over 300 calories that I should probably eat some to burn. On the other hand because I haven't eaten as much today, I haven't felt like I've needed to get food out of me.

I am very frustrated with the "controling parent" in me that made "my milk sour" today. It completely took over my mind and my body. I realise I should have eaten more but I just couldn't handle it today. I don't feel like I had control over this today, I couldn't force myself to eat for the life of me at lunch time today. The chips and granola I ate during the afternoon at work while Megan was eating a snack in the office.

And when I looked in the mirror as I changed into pyjamas tonight, I still looked fat. And my weight is high (for me at least). What I don't understand is how at Ricki's clothing store yesturday I tried on a size 4 pants and they were to big and the size 2 fit. While the womyn in another change room looked like she was thinner then me was wearing a size 10. How the fuck is that possible? I was by myself so I didn't say anything, if I had I think the sales womyn would have thought I was nuts... at least that's what other people have said when I've had similar reactions in clothing stores. Like in January when I bought a size 4 at Plum and told the sales womyn that I was shocked, she laughed at me and didn't understand why I was so suprised. Go figure.

Church People can Actually have a Purpose

Yesturday I was reminded that just because a person gets cancer doesn't mean their going to die. This was so important to hear and see after Saturday. At church I got a hug from Becky who survived breast cancer last year, and then Janet's husband hosted the speaker in the afternoon from the center for integrated healing. He had prostate cancer 3 years and is cancer free now. This reminded me that Dad, although he had prostate cancer in 2003, does not have cancer right now. (Although he does have an appointment with a surgeon, which I find absolutely scarey since its a referal from his doctor because of my aunt's diagnosis. Fuck!)

The question that I can't get out of me, even though I have screamed, cried, spoke, and wrote so many times through out my life, is why do some people die from cancer and others don't? It is one of the biggest questions I have in my faith. Why, God, do some people die from this? If God has a plan for all of us, then why are some people faced with so much suffering and illness and others aren't? Ultimately I still don't understand why mom had to die. Why it was in God's plan that mom died. Why it is in my plan that I grow up with out my mom by my side. Or was none of this caused by God's will?

I have been told (and I tell people) that when a loved one dies suddenly or before we think it is their time, God is the first one crying. And yet when a person is dying often people will pray for God's will to be done, for them to go peacefully into God's arms. Does God still cry if God has called them home?

The only comfort I have found in these questions is knowing that I'm not the only one who has them or has had them. I know 9-year-olds and 90-year-olds who have asked these questions as recently as Sunday. And since I have God in the question it reminds me that I do believe in God, which means I am never alone even if it physically seems like no one is around. God is still there. Although I do have days when I'm not sure if God really cares that much or I don't understand why God is putting me through the things that I am face with. I pray that someday I might understand all this a bit better.

I think I'm handling this recent death better than I have others in the past. I guess maybe I have learned some good ways of self care. I didn't bother myself with trying to reach certain people for support because I didn't think they would actually offer it to me. I did talk to a few key people who support me on an ongoing basis. I didn't avoid things that I had planned and the same time I didn't do them just because. I let myself be sad. I let myself tell people at church what kind of day I was having on Sunday, which was hard because they all read in the bulletin that I was returning to my full hours at work next week. But for the most part the ones that I was honest with seemed to understand a little. On the other hand my eating habbits have been absolutley awful the last 3 days, but at least I kind of realise it.

The "C" Word Strikes Again

I don't understand. I don't understand why people who fight so hard to stay alive can possibley end up dying. Ahsley fought Hodgkins Lymphoma cancer over hte past 2.5 years, determined that she would beat it. That she would be able to tell her grandchildren that she once had cancer and they would laugh and say "I had that last week, the doctor gave me a pill and now it's gone!" She will never have children. She will never have grandchildren. I don't understand.

When I found out this morning, it took a couple of hours before it really sunk in and hit me. I didn't cry until about 2 or 3 hours after I heard the news. Since then I've had this hurt inside me, it's a hurt that I'm too familiar with. I've had it off and on for years. It doesn't want to go away even when I ignore it. I didn't let it stop me from my day, I walked 6km in a fundraiser and went out for dinner to celebrate a friend's birthday. Probably a good thing that I had to eat out for dinner, otherwise I wouldn't have eaten today. Even still I feel really fat, and I ate too much at dinner and then figured I might as well have ice cream (chocolate with peanut butter cups) since I've already gained 1.5 pounds today, regardless of the 6km walk. And the hurt is still there.

It seems like everyone who gets cancer eventually dies from it. I can't get that thought out of my head today. I just need someone to remind me that not everyone who gets cancer will die from it and that lots of people survive it. I really don't want my aunt to die. And I really don't want Dad to get cancer again, I don't want him to get sick and I don't want him to die. That would be awful. I'm beginning to realise that because Dad is such a big part of my life that when he dies, a part of me will die too. And because I don't want to let anyone in to be important in my life, to take care of me, to trust, etc there is no buffer between me and Dad. Nothing there to help diffuse the hurt.

I know the hurt is grief. It sits in my core, my heart, my stomach and every muscle in my body. It makes it a lot harder to move through the troubled waters. I feel so heavy (not just because I'm fat but because it feels like there is a something really heavy on my sholders that's pushing me down).

I used to have this image of mom in Heaven and that she would be there when my friends and family would die to greet them. She would introduce herself as my mom and give them a hug. And they would be connected. She would take care of them. I'm trying to think of Heaven differently now, trying to think that this image wouldn't actually happen. When I do picture this I get jealous of those who have already died because they get to see mom and be with her. I am trying to think of life eternal as the life abundant which we can experience in our daily lives here on earth. But then I get really confused as to what an afterlife might be like.

I guess it comes down to the fact that I miss mom, always will miss her and I'm sad today.

The "C" Word

I hate cancer. It seems to take away too many people (most importantly of course my mom) and it affects everyone. I know this isn't suprising to anyone, I think everyone knows at least one person who has cancer, has been treated for cancer or has lost a battle against the "C" word. My dad's doctor thinks that there may be a heriditary "gene" (meaning it runs in our family) in our family. Since he had prostate cancer 3 years ago and my aunt has been undergoing treatment of colon cancer over the past year. He is off to get more testing done.

My Cancer Family Tree

Grandma A. "mom's mom" (ovarian)

Grandma A.'s Sister (breast)

Mom (breast -> lung)

Dad (prostate)

Aunt Wendy "dad's sister" (colon -> liver)

Uncle Jim "dad's brother" (none)

So how long will it be until my uncle gets cancer? Or my siblings or I? Or my cousins? I think it's the female trend that bothers me the most. I am very glad that my dad finally menitoned to his doctor that his sister coninues to be treated for cancer (10 months after her original diagnosis).

Today I was able to say that I've learned that depression doesn't really go away. Instead its something that I learn how to deal with on a daily basis. Not every day will be a good or ok day, some will be absolutely shitty, finding different ways of dealing with the shitty days is what I've been trying to learn. I know that I haven't gotten totally over mom's death but today I don't feel really pulled down by it. I have no idea of tomorow I feel tremendous grief or not. I won't know until tomorow comes. I know that I have a problem with eating and there are lots of reasons that I do, most of which I don't understand or I'm not aware of. But I also know that recovering form an eating disorder can take a lifetime. It's not something that I can fix in a day, a week, a month etc. And I have to be ready to make changes in how I eat, I'm not ready to do that right now...I know I'm not, I want to take better care of myself, but part of me does not agree with that. So I stop myself from changing.

And really, what difference will it make in the long run if the "C" word will eventually consume my life? I am one of the biggest supporters of the Canadian Cancer Society. I volunteer at Relay for Life, I'm even in newspaper campaigns for the relay with part of my story. But I am not fully convinced that we will be able to make cancer history. Nice idea, but I don't knwo if it will ever happen.

Holy Saturday...Holy Sad day

In between Good Friday and Easter Sunday there is Holy Saturday. This inbetween day is a waiting time, a time when the womyn who were close to Jesus, his friends and his followers were grieving his death. A time when they didn't know what was going to happen next. While I was at an Easter vigil on Holy Satruday I was reminded that this waiting time hurts and it sucks!

Last year Good Friday was really hard for me, I cried in the service a lot and I was sick. This year Holy Saturday was way harder. Maybe I've begun to move beyond mom's memorial service or the fact that she died. If I have then I guess I'm in an inbetween space or giant body of scarey water...between that and believing in the good that is in my life now and continuing to become. I know that's not something that I really understand logically since I can't really write about it or describe it very well. I do know that there is something beyond grief because so many people have told me that there is and that they have found it for themselves.

What pisses me off about this overlaying of the Easter story is that Christ returned to his family and friends. And I have to try and convince myself and come to believe that mom will never return to me. That leaves me feeling like shit. I think Mary and Mary Magdelene might have felt similarly. Not really understanding why he died, well they may have on some level since he kind of tried to explain that to them before he was crucified, but I'm sure they didn't really get it. They're "holy Saturday" would have been really hard. Followed by a very confusing resurection.

On the other hand Joan (the ordained one at my church) was describing the way in which we are all born again in Christ Jesus, that each of us died on the cross with him and were brought back anew. That Easter being a time of new life, can be a time of new life in each of us. So does this mean that the resurection or returning to life is suposed to be done in me? by me? Instead of mom coming back to life, am I supposed to somehow have new life? I know that I've heard this told to me by many friends and other people over the years. Obviously I don't totally get it.

I know that for a long time I wasn't really living but more just working and doing stuff, I wasn't enjoying life though. I'm trying harder to do this now. And I was told that my body was dead, that my muscles didn't want to work for me because I wasn't living life. Not to mention that apparently the way I eat is 'killing' my body. Well, I guess this is the transformation that I'm in. And that is what Jesus went through, a transformation. Maybe all these years I've compared Jesus dying to mom's death, which makes me like the Marys (like I was writting about earlier in this post). But I guess I need to be looking at how I am like Jesus dying and being brought back to life.

Are you confused yet? I am.

Besides all that, this Easter has worn me out. I'm tired, sad, and fat (really I am, I had to eat 2 meals out today).

It all comes back to one thing...

Everything gets related back to her death and my reaction.

Megan told me that she is not going to continue her contract after the middle of May and depending on the job descriptions for the fall, will not be working with our program then either. She's leaving me. It wasn't until tonight that I realised that this stirs up everything with mom leaving me unexpectedly or beyond my control.

I hate that I can't control when people decide to change where they are. Realistically I shouldn't have control over anyone but myself. And yet it pisses me off when I get affected by other people's lives. Or is it just that I'm letting it affect me? And I shouldn't let it?

Because I'm mad at mom for dying on me and I'm kind of mad at Megan for leaving work, I take it out on my body (says my counsellor). Maybe she's right. But I don't quite believe it. I don't eat because I'm not hungry, not because I'm mad at mom. I am mad at my body because I don't like the way it looks and I hate being fat. How could I possibley be taking this out on my body? I don't get it.

What's love got to do with it?

Just because my body is something my mom gave me doesn't mean I have to like or love it. And I know full well that not giving my body nutrition will not bring back my mom and I don't even think that's what I've been trying to do. But if it has nothing to do with it why is it making me cry as I type this?

I don't love my body - I don't love myself. Those words are hard for me to admit, and yet they are true for me. I have always thought of myself as fat, my whole life, for as long as I can remember. When I was in grade 1 I wore size 14 girls and when I graduated from highschool I was just over 140 lbs. I know logically that these are within the average range for real womyn in north america today. I hated being called fat when I was in school and it always felt like other people would be noticed for their looks and appreciated before I would be. I felt like I was never noticed, today it was pointed out to me that that was probably not entirely the case but rather that's what I preceived.

I don't love myself - I won't let anyone love me. I can't seem to understand how anyone would want to love me. (Oh man, I just re-read that sentence, am I ever a low self-esteem person!) Maybe I do stop people from loving me, I don't know. I wonder if this is partly why I find it so hard to trust God all the time, 24/7, no questions asked? Even though that's something that I hear or read everyday and that I've had engrained in my being since I was born. Assumabley I was baptised as a baby out of love by my parents, family, and church family, recognizing me as the child of God that I was born as in my faith community.

Today I was sitting on the beach (it was 17 degrees outside) reading my book and saw a womyn in a bikini posing for a photographer. Ok, yes it was sunny, but there was a very cool breeze comming off of the water. My first reaction was, she must be freezing her butt off! Then I thought, I will never look like her, she is skinny compared to me. As the photo shoot went on she had to stand in the water...fuck! I was sitting at least 20 feet from the edge of the water, closer to a paved path then to the actual water. But I could tell how unpredictable the water was from where I was sitting. Once she was standing in the water, I got up and left. I was getting totally freaked out by my thoughts of her being swallowed up by the water, drowning, drifting away, becoming lost from her friends, dying in the water.

I guess that's how I've felt at times in my troubled waters; being swallowed up, drowning, drifting away, becoming lost, dying in the water.

So is up to me to calm these waters? Or will God calm them, if I let God?

Missing her and Looking fat

I missed my mom today when...

I heard Becky talk of needing to go home after setting up her Sunday School lesson so that she could help her oldest daughter straighten her very curly hair before church (on a rainy day).
I heard Tamara talking with her mom about her upcoming 15th birthday.
I saw Susan and Jane take their 5 year old children's hands and parade with them during the palm prossesional at the beginning of worship.
I walked with Janet has she helped her aged mother to her walker at the edge of the sanctuary.
I saw Simon sitting with his mom and dad in the pew.
I listened to the youth choir sing and saw their mothers sitting together watching them with admiration.
I acted as Jesus did as he died on the cross, and his mother Mary watched with sorrow.

It wasn't that bad today. I think that I have at least this many moments when I miss mom every day. Today I didn't have the urge to melt down, cry, scream or throw things whenever I missed her. Often I had to just keep telling myself to breath, to breath through the day. I know it was just that which helped me through worship this morning.

Right now I look and feel really fat, which is so frustrating. Especially since this morning when I was getting dressed none of my black pants were fitting properly. I had to dress in all black for the drama in church today. Even though I've bought new pants over the past few months, none of them are all black. So with much debate I went with the drawstring yoga pants because I knew that they wouldn't fall to low on my hips and flash the choir behind me on the stage whenever I bent over. I just don't get it. How can my clothes look big and fit lose on me, when I continue to look so extremely fat? I know how fucked up that sounds. My friend Dione and I had quite the conversation over dinner tonight. And she thinks that I look sick, that I don't look right, and so on. She said so in her opinion as a friend who has known me for a long time. The thing is, growning up she was always the tall skinny one and I was the short fat one. Guys would always look at her, and never at me. She is entitled to her opinion. I just don't see what she sees. I guess I don't see what most people see when they look at me.

On Wednesday I start house and pet sitting for a total of 22 days and then I go away for 4 more days. I think this will be good and I'm looking forward to it. It will be nice to not be living with Dad and seeing so much of him. I hope that I am strong enough and confident enough in myself that I will enjoy living by myself with my friends' pets.