Dear readers, recently I’ve been experiencing yet more medical issues. During my research on my potential new diagnoses, I made a rather startling connection. My mind has been blown with what I’ve discovered. Today, this post may be a bit of a rant as I connect all the dots. It took me five years to make all these realizations. My entire life I was ruled by responsibility, I even accepted responsibility for things that weren’t my fault – just to keep the peace between the man who donated his sperm for my mother’s eggs and his bed-warmer. I try not to hate him or blame him and accept responsibility for my own well-being but I’m in a place in my life where I can longer ignore his role and it makes me mad. Livid, really. From the beginning of my existence, SHE told me there was “nothing wrong” with me and to stop being a hypochondriac like my grandmother. I believe, truly that neither of them really wanted to raise children – they just seemed to want a maid (her) and to not die alone (

Dear readers, it’s been a while since I last wrote a blog post and my life hasn’t gotten much easier since then. As I cope with my new diagnoses, I am faced with difficult real life decisions. All these choices also kick up a lot of emotional trauma and I’m having a really difficult time swimming these shark infested waters. Let’s recap, shall we? In July 2022, I caught Covid-19 and was ill for a full three months. Not only that, but it also caused long Covid and those symptoms did not dissipate until the following spring/early summer 2023. What does that look like you ask? I went from being able to walk 15 km + a day to not being able to get out of bed for days at a time, severe joint and muscle pain, the inability to walk more than 1 km, I can no longer stand for more than 30 minutes at a time. My feet hurt, my ankles hurt, my knees hurt, my back hurts, my shoulders hurt, my elbows hurt, my wrists hurt, and each and every single joint in my hands hurt. Eventually, I couldn’t take

  In April 2001, I was laid off from my first job as an Executive Assistant to the CFO. All was not lost, the former CEO and current Chairman of the Board for the telecom company I would be leaving hired me to be his Assistant and Office Manager at his new venture. Before starting that role, I booked a vacation to the Dominican Republic with Mr. GQ, my BFF Natasha and her boyfriend who happened to be Mr. GQ’s best friend, Freddy. I was over the moon to be going away on a REAL vacation. This was my first real vacation ever. I remember spending 3 weeks researching resorts, towns, activities, cross-referenced reviews and costs to make sure it was affordable for everyone. Once I selected the resort, I went back to search for the absolute best price. I think I got our trip for less than $700 all inclusive, at a 5 star brand new resort. I had an amazing time and crossed off several bucket list items at the time. Upon returning to real life I worked my butt off setting up a new office and a

  I feel calm, relaxed, carefree, and loved - much like any normal kid should feel. I only feel this way when I’m at ‘la cabine’ with my grand-parents. Grand-papa would come pick us up at the end of June in his burgundy coloured station wagon and drive the 45 minutes to the log cabin he built with my father many moons ago. My grand-maman would be waiting for us in the cabin’s small living room, which doubled as the dining room complete with wood stove that made great toast in the morning. The cabin was built in the early 1970s using logs, tin for the roof, and pink insulation. The cabin sits on a parcel of leased land for a 99-year term. The small structure contained a small workshop for my grand-father’s tools, a main area, 2 window-less bedrooms, a loft with several mattresses on the floor for when my cousins visited, a small kitchen, a tiny bathroom (illegal because he installed a septic tank for my grand-mother because she didn’t want to use the outhouse). The kitchen also contai

 PTSD is a bitch. When you live and breathe it daily, you don’t know any better. It’s like being born with a headache; you don’t know you have one until it’s gone. As a teen, Big M told me I was moody and depressed – a typical teenager. She also told me daughters and mothers never get along in the teen years, which is also totally normal. Uh Huh. As a young adult, I knew more than anything that I would never be a parent. Ever. I didn’t know how to relate to children, I’d never spent any time with children, I’d always been surrounded by adults; but mostly, I believe children were a burden. Deep down, I knew I’d be an abuser. I was terrified to be alone with children. I assumed I’d be a sexual deviant and if I wasn’t, I’d probably just beat them black and blue. When I told my family every time they joked to “wait until youuuuu have kids!” I was always met with shock and mild horror that I didn’t want to shoot watermelons out my vagina. I don’t think those living outside my family unit