The Bacterial Death Squad

Has come to pay me an ever. So. Sweet. Visit. Arrooogaaahhh. The good part? I was not contagious. After all my homeopathic/natural medicine, rest, clear, non-sugary fluids by the gallon, several home sweats. With oils. After all of this I still felt like the Grim Reaper was at my door. Today is the first day I felt well enough to do more than barely scrape by my absolute responsibilities. Of which there are many. Thanks to good ‘ole penicillin. So. The benefits of believing in both science and nature I shall reap.

Unfortunately this caused a hiatus from blogging. Truth? There have been other far more ‘personal’, things underfoot. Personal as in, not my business to talk about, but happening in my home with my beloved BSM. Consequently leaving me feeling pretty taxed, crappy and stressed. Don’t worry, we’re ok. Just ok, but madly in love, strong enough and surrounded by beautiful love and support. So that helps. But times are tough. Every time I thought to write, there has been this cold, compressive barrier. Invisible, but there. Not really making any sense to me, but just not letting. me. Or I did not let myself. Or something. Really, I have been just trying to stay afloat the best way I know how, and the whole blogging action is this new sparkly thing. That I did not want to mar with dark splotches. Even though I said I would.

Letting that go now, I have been thinking a lot about how much I will share on the interweb. How personal I will get. It is easier for me to talk of past skeletons, child-hood/teen/early adult-hood trauma, abuse, etc. As long as it relates directly to me and I am not airing any one else’s, ‘dirty laundry.’ I am comfortable enough with that. I have found  beauty in the dark places and accepted that it is a sign of strength, not weakness and necessary, of me to be open about these things. The thing about stories is that they almost always involve other people and therefore they are other people’s stories too. I feel like I am on a tight-rope of wanting to respect other people’s feelings, idea(s) of truth and what they might not be ready to have out in the open. But what if I am ready?  Not just talking about challenges the BSM is going through either. I ‘m talking about my mum. What if I think that other people could relate, heal and feel like they are not alone by reading about some of what I have been through? I know that’s what got me through several times. Connecting with souls who were OPEN, wonderfully tainted, raw and real. Trained to help either academically or alternatively. Healed from (most) hurts. That’s a picture of me. I kind of molded myself in some ways after those who I looked up to most. Child & Youth Workers, Social workers, Elders, Healers, Ministers, Truth Speakers and generally beautiful carbon life forms all around. I have been blessed with more love and beauty than sick/hate and ugly.

What if I get a second/third round of healing (which is endless and ever-evolving), from writing, publishing, dissecting, sharing and discussing? BUT. What if my mum, who gave us so much good too…gets hurt? Or gets angry? Or blows up? What if she is reading this right now? Ah. Well. I suppose I’ll have to deal. Because as I write and review, it would seem as though I have made up my mind and I think…I think, it’s okay.

It’s a peculiar and overwhelming surge of emotion that wells up when the one you love most passionately; on every level known, with every fiber of your being, is struggling, or is in pain. For someone like me, it is a sure-fire bet to opening up the vault on my own hurts. I HATE that. Why can’t I be stronger? There is not much place for one’s own shit when one has to be the rock.  So here I vent. Thank creator for the tiny, solid, WSL and his gut-wrenching, sweet, cuteness; intense ferocious love. My little guy grabs at me so hard and practically eats me up! I (we) return the love. THANK-YOU for him. For both of them…it’s been a rough couple of weeks – but the best part about this new-fangled equal partnership thing is that when it comes right down to it; I can lean on him, even when I think I can’t. Just had to give it time and patience. And not be SO affected.

Gooey love post up next on our Wee Strappin’ Lad; Wyndham, complete with ridiculously cute pictures and maybe even a video. Gotta keep it balanced around here, right? I’m not usually one for quotes, but…

‘There are cracks in everything…that’s how the light gets in’

Leonard Cohen