New Year, New Life for an Old Blog

New year! Okay, it’s May but it is a new year for this blog site  as I am starting over with blogging. If you remember, I am not much of a blogger, although I try to be. 

So as I launch my new website and new schedule between work and writing full time (you know, the other full time job that I love), I am going to dedicate a bit more time to keeping my blog updated. 

I will update the blog on a regular basis but it won’t be every day…that I can guarantee you. But hopefully it will be several times a month and maybe even several times a week. GASP!

But for now, just a quick update. I hope you enjoy and I hope to keep you up to date on what is happening in my little writer’s world with tons of exciting information to share with you in the upcoming months and years.

Not much of a Blogger

Okay, I admit it.  I am not much of a blogger.  Ever since I was a little girl, I didn't want to write a journal and a blog is a lot like a journal. It wasn't that I didn't write. I was always writing and I have folders upon folders of stories, random sentences and poems that date back over 20 years.  What I don't have is a journal (actually, I have several failed journals) and it is mostly because I am a private person.

I want to share the stories I write, the successes of the writers I work with as an editor and funny stories as I come across them.  I have always been hesitant on sharing things that are going on in my life. Some are things that are personal and I want them to remain private.  Other things just seem rather dull.  And I don't want to subject you to something dull and rather pointless.

So that is the reason why the blog is rather quiet but I am making an effort to blog more over the month of June.  In addition to the blogging, I am going to be challenging myself as an author and writing 50,000 words in June.  I will be starting tomorrow and I will definitely let you know what is happening with the word count and maybe share some pages from my books as I do.

I have a few ideas for additional novels and I have my novel, The Hunted, going out to beta readers this week.  Hopefully, I will have a published novel by the end of the month and will be working through edits on my second novel.

I will be posting so that maybe I can move my status from "Not much of a blogger" to "Well, she is an okay blogger" in the near future.

1000 Miles For the Week

I just wanted to give everyone an update, this week the walk in honor/1000 miles has not happened for one simple reason, parenthood.  My oldest is in a program that takes him out of his regular class every few months to go to an advanced program. Unfortunately, this means I have to drive him to another school that is 30 minutes away (if there is no traffic) but is more commonly a 45 minute to 1 hour commute.  So having to drive there and back twice per day, my commute time has been about four hours every day.

Normally, I wouldn't complain but I have not been feeling well so the addition commute, work and various obligations, my walking time has been very low. I have managed about a half mile to a mile every day but I did not want to record the amounts as I did not feel like I put enough into it this week.  I will be back to walking tomorrow and will have a few months where I won't have to do that commute every day.

So I apologize for this last week but I will be walking again soon.

March 28: Walking for SMD

The walking trail took me along the river today and as I was walking, I was really thinking about how life is filled with hardships and with choices.  SMD has had numerous hardships and has survived both childhood abuse and neglect as well as abusive relationships.  Today, SMD is a survivor that is thriving.

One thing that really struck me is that one brush of violence leave ripples across an entire lifetime. One swipe can eat away at the heart and the mind and can cause us to make bad choices without us even realizing it.  We move forward, sometimes remember every detail of that violence and other times forgetting it, but the ripple is there, growing larger and larger like a pebble thrown into a river.

But this pebble isn't small, it is a large bolder that makes itself known and it becomes a cycle of abuse that is very hard to break.  The cycle can be broken, the ripples from that rock can be stilled, life can become beautiful and be filled with meaning.

SMD has dealt with that ripple and while I would love to go on about her story, there really is just a few lines that I would love for her to see. These are:

You are a strong woman who I am honored to know.  You care deeply for others, you are intelligent and you deserve happiness. Thank you for sharing your story with me and I am honored that you allowed me to walk with you.  I know that you have overcome so much to be the wonderful woman that you are today.

So these miles are for you SMD!

Mileage: 4.365
Total: 11.939

Due to a few commitments, I was not able to walk during Saturday and on Sunday, I didn't have as much time as I would have liked so I simply walked for survivors again.

If you would like me to walk for someone, please email me at sirena.van@sympatico.ca

My 1000 miles challenge was inspired by Angela Giles Klocke and her own 1000 miles journey.  You can find Angela's journey at Scars and Tiaras.  Please visit her site and her facebook page to learn more about how you can get involved in the 1000 miles challenge.

March 27: Walking for Family

Today was a hard day.  I put off walking until late in the afternoon, finally forcing myself out the door at 4pm.  I had a dozen excuses not to walk. My legs hurt from the last two days.  The weather was horrible with a mixture of rain and snow. It was too cold in the morning; too wet in the afternoon. But while I had a lot of excuses, I knew the one excuse was that today I was walking for my family.

And the family wasn't my kids or husband; it was my siblings and my mom, my aunts and uncles, anyone in my family that had been touched by violence in one way or another.  I hesitated this morning because I wasn't sure if I should walk for them.  I wasn't sure if they wanted me to or not but I finally decided to do it.  As you can tell, doubts still affect me and it was a test to overcome the doubt of my family.

But families do deserve to be recognized, not just mine but every survivor's family. That is something that we often forget...every survivor has a family and regardless of how insular the violence can be, others can't help but be touched by it.  I have seen it in the face of a friend/coworker whose sister was murdered.  They never caught the murderer but I saw the haunted pain in her eyes as she would talk to me about it on her breaks.  I have seen it in the words of another woman I knew, who wanted her adult children to know about the horrible rape she had suffered at the age of 16. She was hurt that her family couldn't speak to her about it, devastated that they turned away, tears in their eyes begging her to stop, that they didn't want to know. But her counselor had said something that stuck with me as well...it is not the duty of our children to bear our past because the weight of the future is more than enough.

I guess that is why I was hesitant to walk for my family, because I was witness to their pain but it is not my story to tell.  I did tell part of it though.  Nine years ago, I sat down and wrote my childhood down. It was painful at times but it was also cathartic.  For me, writing down my story was what I needed to move past it and I just wrote the bad memories.

What was left in me were the happy memories.  The laughter, the love that we shared.  It wasn't that the bad memories were erased but they were exorcised.  They didn't hold onto me like they used to and I could laugh.  I could tell silly stories of me falling asleep on my bike and both my brother and I falling onto the gravel road.  Or how my oldest brother taught me how to use nun chucks, managing to bash me in the head in the process; I had a dark purple goose egg at my temple for several weeks after that.

I remember the days drifting lazily in the water of the lake with my sister or how the first time she convinced me to swim across it, she told me it was bottomless in the middle.  My kids laughed when I told them how I had forced her to walk through dense forest and then down a highway for about a mile in nothing but our bathing suits and bare feet after we finally made it all the way across.  There was no way I could swim after that (although the second time she convinced me, I made it both ways and it created a daily ritual for me).

I could remember the memories of my mom and how every kid in town called her mom when she owned her own arcade.  How one day a man came into the arcade to rob her.  She didn't know what he had planned but the kindness of her heart made her offer him free hot dogs, donuts and coffee.  She even gave him a brown paper bag that he took to the convenience store  and had them fill with their cash register.  While she felt awful about the convenience store, it showed how kindness can change an action.

Writing that story made it possible to see that there were times when we were happy.

So today, when I walked for my family, I walked with happy memories running through my mind.  I walked knowing that regardless of how far away we are that I will always love them and they will always be in my heart. Thank you for everything that you have done and the strength you have given me to be who I am today.

Mileage: 2.563
Total: 7.574

If you would like me to walk for someone, please email me at sirena.van@sympatico.ca

My 1000 miles challenge was inspired by Angela Giles Klocke and her own 1000 miles journey.  You can find Angela's journey at Scars and Tiaras.  Please visit her site and her facebook page to learn more about how you can get involved in the 1000 miles challenge.

March 26: Walking for Victims and Survivors of Violence and Abuse

Today marked the first day in the walk that I was walking for someone other than myself.  I didn't pick a name today, instead, I chose to walk for everyone who has been touched by violence or abuse in some way; whether you are a victim, a survivor or someone you love is a survivor.

One thing that I thought about as I set out on my walk is that we often think that we are alone.  If we disclose, everyone we know will abandon us or not believe us.  In some cases, some of the people that we rely on do, in fact, leave but it is never about you. It is simply that they cannot grasp the pain that is endured by many around the world.  It is more about them and their foibles than it is about you and if they cannot be there for you when you need them most, then they were never there in the first place.

But those are not the people that we look at.  The people that matter will be there for you and there are always other people; survivors, counselors, loved ones, and even strangers, that will be there for you.  They will help you overcome the pain of your past and lead you to a future that you deserve.

So today I walked for all of you and I wasn't alone in my walk.  Instead, I walked with you in my head and heart; the steady thump of my dog's feet at my side.  The world opened up around me.  It started off gray, we are still in the grip of winter, but as I walked through the trees, sunlight trickled down onto us.  The snow is still here, the trees still barren but as I walked, I noticed the spaces where I can see grass.  As I walked, I could feel the warmth of the sunlight and see the squirrels scurrying over the snow.  As I walked, I could hear the birds singing and all of it felt like hope.

And that is where my walk took me today...to the realization that no matter how dark the winter, spring will come and with it hope.

Mileage: 2.741

Total: 5.011/1,000

Daisy standing guard while I took the photo.

If you would like me to walk for someone, please email me at sirena.van@sympatico.ca

My 1000 miles challenge was inspired by Angela Giles Klocke and her own 1000 miles journey.  You can find Angela's journey at Scars and Tiaras.  Please visit her site and her facebook page to learn more about how you can get involved in the 1000 miles challenge.

1000 Miles: The First Miles are For Me 2.270

The first miles are for me.  That is how I started this project and it was inspired by Angela Giles Klocke who started her journey in January.  You can read about her journey and her challenge at http://scarsandtiaras.com/1000-miles. 

My journey started yesterday with me walking 2.270 miles.  I had planned on only starting with a mile but I continued on after that first mile and kept walking.  I wanted to start right but I wasn’t sure if I could continue walking after that first mile.  Still, I made it and over and felt proud of myself. It was a challenge and like many aspects of my past, I overcame it.

But why am I walking?  If you haven’t read the scars and tiaras blog, I am walking for the same reason as Angela Giles Klocke...to honor those who have been lost, those who have been victimized, those who have survived and those who are on the path to thriving from the effects of abuse, violence, neglect and mistreatment. 

Every step that I take in this journey will be for others but these first miles are for me.  If you haven’t realized from much of my blog, I suffered from childhood abuse.  It was hard coming to terms with all that I had suffered but after seeking counselling for it in my 20’s, I was able to overcome many of the feelings of self doubt that I had.  However, the journey from survivor to someone who thrives is not an easy one and there are times that my self confidence is hit hard, the scars that have healed will, at times, hurt from past memories but every year, as I build up my confidence, they don’t hurt as often or as much.

I am blessed to have a loving husband that has helped me through much of my healing process and I am blessed to be a mother.  The things I want for my children are so much more than what I had for myself and every part of me goes into creating a better life for my family.

And they are thrilled that I am doing this.  My own children have asked to come along on some of the walks, especially on the weekends, and I will be taking the journey with my own companion.  For shorter days, I will be walking with my English Mastiff and for longer days, I will be walking with my Labrador Retriever. 

So What Are You Doing Exactly?

Like Angela GilesKlocke, every day, I will be walking for someone whose life has been touched by abuse or violence.  I will place their name or initials on a note card and I will carry their name as I walk.

During the walk, I will take a picture of the card and post it here on the blog, on the facebook page and also on my twitter account.  I will share stories if I am asked to. 

Each walk will be dedicated to one person or one family and I will not carry more than one so that each walk is special to those people. 

How Long will You Walk?

Every day will be different and will depend on the weather, how I am feeling, my commitments during that day and also the day of the week.  I hope to walk at least 2 miles every day but there will be days when the walk will be shorter and days when the walk will be longer.

In total, my goal is to walk 1000 miles in honor of victims and survivors of abuse and violence in one year.  So by March 25^th, 2015, I will have 1000 miles down.  

Will You Walk for Me or My Loved One?

Yes, I would be honored to walk for you or your loved one.  Simply send me a message to sirena.van@sympatico.ca with the following:

Subject: Please Walk for _____________

In the body of the email, let me know any information that you would like me to share on the blog post.  In addition, please let me know if you would like me to write something important on the card such as “Survivor” or “RIP”.   You can use initials or first name, or a full name.  You can also share a bit of the history or nothing at all. This is completely up to you.   

What will Happen If You Don’t Have Anyone to Walk For?

Sadly, there is always someone to walk for and if it comes down to me not having a name on my list for someone to walk for, then I will find a name in the news. On those days, I will write down the name and will walk in honor of that person. 

Does It Cost Money for you to Walk in My Honor?

No, I am not asking for any monetary compensation so please do not send me any. If you would like to donate, please donate to a local charity for survivors of violence and abuse.

Since this campaign was inspired by Angela’s Scars and Tiaras walk, if you are not sure of a charity to give to but would like to donate to one, please use the charity that Angela is directing funds to.  This is the Tellar Safe Habor, which is trying to fund the creation of a safe house in their area.  You can donate to them here http://tellercountysafehouse.org/help.html.

How do you Track your Mileage?

I am using both a pedometer and I am charting my course on a map site before I head out.  Every day, I will start from my front door and take a different route before returning home. 

If you have any questions for me, please let me know.  I have already started my 1000 miles with 2.270 miles being finished.  Yesterday, I walked for me, today, I will be walking for all the victims of violence and abuse but I have already started adding names for my walk.  If you would like me to walk in honor of you or someone you know, please send me an email.

Thank you for your support as I walk these 1000 miles.

Who I am walking for this week

March 25: Sirena Van Schaik

March 26: Survivors and Victims of Violence and Abuse

March 27: Family

March 28: SMD - Survivor of Childhood Neglect, Rape and Spousal Abuse

March 29: 

March 30: Lisa Seeber - RIP March 22, 2014, Victim of Murder/Suicide

My 15th Wedding Anniversary

15 years ago, I said I do to my true love.

I met him when I was 16 and when people ask how we met, I don’t have the romantic story, the meet cute as it were.  I merely stumbled into the room, the bravado of youth on my lips as my 18 year old, best friend remarked at my appearance, “Sirena, you look like shit.”

I want to say that I answered the statement with decorum and grace but I didn’t.  I was a 16 year old girl after all and I had been running around gathering the supplies for said friend’s baby shower.  So my reply was as colorful as the gift wrapped presents in my bag, “Of course I look like shit. I have been running my ass all over this fucking town for you.”

And with that said, I turned to find three, very stunned people standing behind me.  James, his sister and his mother, all of them down from Ontario for the baby shower.  I remember my face turning 50 shades of red as I murmured an apology and I felt flustered as James stared at me, his brown eyes sparkling with mirth.  He has told me over the years that he fell in love with me at that moment.  I have always laughed and said, “Well, at least you knew what you were getting before you bought it.”

James had come down to British Columbia to meet his baby nephew.  We spent the next 2 weeks getting to know each other and while we didn’t say much, I felt a connection to him.  The morning he left to go back to Ontario, I felt my heart break and I couldn’t explain why.  I cried for the opportunity I was losing and I spent the hours before everyone woke up wishing that I could see him again.

I did, within a month, James had moved to BC and within a few weeks, we were dating.  He didn’t ask me out.  There were no dates.  One day we weren’t together, playing sword fights in the autumn sun with a large group of friends; laughing as the empty, 2 litre pop bottles that we were brandishing as swords smashed against one another.  And then we were; walking together as the warmth of the autumn day disappeared into a crisp evening and he wrapped his arms around me to fight off the chill.  And I realized then that I had found something special, something that meant so much more than the school girl crushes that I had had before.

When I was 17, I moved in with James, much to the dismay of my mother but I ignored her words and in the middle of our latest fight, I packed my bags and stormed out.  Maybe it wasn’t the best way to start my life with James but things are what they are.

It wasn’t right for me to start it the other way either, when I stood in front of him, telling him all the things that I wouldn’t put up with...

“If you hit me, I’ll leave you...”

“If we have kids together and you hit them, we’ll leave you and you will never see them again...”

“If you cheat on me, if you had loved me at all, don’t lie to me; tell me so we can let each other go...”

“I won’t marry you...ever...so don’t ask.”

Scars rained down on him with my words.  All the pain, hurt, distrust that had broken me by this point were laid bare at his feet and all he could say to me was,

“I won’t hit you; I love you.”

“I won’t hit my kids; I love you.”

“I won’t cheat; I love you.”

“And maybe someday...”

And during those first few months together, when I would wake up in the middle of the night, tears wracking my body, he wouldn’t pull me close.  He would lie still, staring at my back as I cried and it was in those moments that I felt safest.  He didn’t touch me, didn’t force me to take comfort from him.  On nights when I wanted to rail against the world, against him, he would quietly accept it, rising to the challenge of my fight.   James knew from the very beginning what I needed and he would wait patiently for me to return to bed.  To fall asleep against him as his arms were finally able to wrap themselves around me and protect me from all the hurt that plagued my dreams. I fell in love with him more every day as I realized that his words and actions were the same.

By 18, James realized BC was not where he wanted to be and he made the decision to move back to Ontario.  He asked me to go with him.  At first I said no, but at the thought of losing him, of not taking that step wrenched my heart from me and I said yes.  Waiting for the plane was one of the scariest moments of my life.  I was giving myself completely to the man sitting beside me and I was trusting in him to keep me safe in the strange place I was heading.

And life went on. I learned new things, met new people and I realized that my home didn’t have to be in BC.  It was here with the man I loved.  But still, I couldn’t make the commitment.  He would ask and I would say no, I am not getting married...

...at 18, I laughed.

...at 19, I cried.  “How could you want a girl that was already broken when you met her?”

But I wasn’t sure if I was broken anymore. I felt the scars, felt the hard lines on my soul and I knew that he was slowly fixing me. Making me trust, making me hope, making me realize that I was worth something...worth loving.

So I didn’t scoff at his idea of marriage as much and when we decided to get married, it wasn’t him getting down on bended knee; he knew me better than I knew myself, knew that it would frighten me away.  He waited for me to say the words, to tell him that I was ready for something more.  And when I did, he jumped at the chance and we started planning our wedding.

It wasn’t until a month before our wedding that he took me out for a romantic dinner and then walked me down by the river.  He stopped by a large pine tree, its needles green with life; he got down on his knee and asked me to marry him.  In his nervousness, he slipped the ring on the wrong finger and I laughed to hide the tears in my eyes as I said, “Did you think I was going to say no this close to the day? You’re mother would kill me.”

When the wedding day arrived, I didn’t panic like I have heard other brides have done.  I went to sleep the night before, a letter of love that James had written sitting on my pillow, and I woke up feeling calm.  There were no doubts, no second thoughts that had me wondering if I should call it off. At the age of 21, a young bride to many, I was ready.  So I said I do to my true love and realized that the part I thought had been broken wasn’t anymore and it was the man standing before me that had fixed it...fixed me.

And today, as I celebrate our 15^th wedding anniversary and 20 years together, I say I do again.  The years have flown by.  We have had good times, bad times and even boring times.  We have held each other, cried together, celebrated the birth of not one, but two, amazing children.  We have found each other again and again when we have drifted apart.  Through it all, James has kept the promises that he made to that scared 17 year old girl and he has made and fulfilled new ones along the way.

I am so thankful for my life with my husband.  Thankful that he was patient with the broken girl he found swearing in a kitchen and helped her find her way.  Without him I would not be whole.  He is my everything and I could not imagine a day without him.  So James, today, I want you to know that I love you with all my soul and I am honored that you spent the last 20 years with me and look forward to 50 more. 

Extreme Couponing Ontario Style

I know, I know, I missed two days of my 30 day challenge for blogging.  Yes, it happened only 3 days in but I have a very good excuse. I was so sick, I could barely make it out of bed.  I didn't do any of my challenges, instead, I laid as still as possible to avoid emptying my stomach.  It was a horrible way to spend two days and today is the first day that I haven't spent with my stomach in my throat.

So to make it short, I am restarting the 30 day challenge with today being day 1 again.  As you know, if you fail, you can just pick yourself up and start over.  There is no reason to give up and throw in the towel.  While I didn't fail exactly, I still want to start at day 1 instead of carrying on.  Partly due to the fact that I am still not a 100% recovered from the flu and partly because I want to succeed from start to finish without any delays along the way.

But now that you know exactly what happened to me over the last two days, I just want to share an experience that I had on Saturday.

First, where I live, we don't coupon.  There is no extreme couponing and you are lucky to find one or two coupons on a trip to the store.  I am not sure if this is a Canada wide phenomenon but every place in Canada that I have lived have been devoid of coupons.  I don't think much of it, except for days when I read articles about buying $500 worth of groceries for less than $80.

However, what we do have in Canada is that some stores will offer you 20% less (Rates vary depending on the store) if you can find the exact same product in a different store for a lower price.  Most people don't really do this but as I stumbled into the grocery store on Saturday, trying to deny the fact that I was, in fact, sick; I came across a woman and her husband that did exactly this.

Somehow, I made it through the shopping. I pulled into a line that looked like it was going fast.  I stood there as the woman took out huge stacks of grocery store flyer's and started flipping through it.  Odd, I thought to myself.  Then I watched in disbelief as she continued to flip through each flyer trying to locate all of the items she was buying. The cashier was being very patient but as I stood there, bile began to rise up my throat and the bathroom sign across the way was looking like my only salvation in the store.

Twenty minutes later...when I was ready to scream, the woman finally admitted defeat over one item that she had been arguing over for 5 minutes and said she would go to customer service.  I understand the why of extreme couponing but as I stood there, clutching my stomach, singing the words to the Lego Lord of the Rings game in a futile attempt to calm my stomach, I realized that there should be a special place for it.

I am all for letting people have special "couponing" lines so the poor, miserable person who doesn't want to save...namely me when my temperature is spiking up to a 103, doesn't have to wait in line behind them.  So what do you think?  Should couponers have their own line?

Lake of the Woods

Lake of the Woods from One Shore

Today, the warmth of the sun is filling my home and my keyboard.  Literally.  As I sat outside in the sun, I could feel the laptop slowly heating up until I realized that it was time to take it in to cool it off.  It is a beautiful spring day and the temperature reminds me of early summer, not the beginning of May.

I am looking forward to swimming.  I love swimming actually and I am a water child completely, which is suitable as I am a Scorpio.  Actually, I find that I feel my best when there is water surrounding me - I am the women who stands in the shower, the warm water beating down on her, and thinks, "This is it, I am never getting out again."

With large bodies of water, I am exactly the same. I love feeling the pull of the water that threatens to drag you down into the depths.  I used to be terrified of it.  Used to wonder if I would drown the next time I stepped into the cold waves.  I had nearly drowned several times - once in a backyard pool - but when I was 15, I overcame my fear completely and began swimming in a lake on my own.

Actually, it had become a ritual for me that summer.  I would wake up every morning, well before any of my friends would be up, and scramble out of bed.  The short 5 minute jog to the lake would leave me breathless standing on the shores of Lake of the Woods.  I would stand on the shore, gazing at the large rocks on the opposite side, the wild forest stretching out as far as my imagination would take it.

The cold water would look like a slate of gray and I would always hesitate, the cool air prickling the bare skin my bikini wouldn't cover.  Then, with a deep breathe, I would wade into the water and launch myself into its depths.

The lake was bottomless, or at least that was what I was told.  I found out later that it was only 12 metres in depth but when I was 15, there was something exhilerating thinking the bottom hadn't been found.  There was a whole world sliding under my floating body.  I could feel it, just below me, as curious about me as I was about it.

I would swim across the lake, my chest burning as I neared the far shore and I would scramble up onto the rocks and catch my breath.  My teeth would chatter at the change of temperature but I would feel at peace.  Nothing was ever at the lake except the local wildlife and it was exactly how I wanted it.  I would go early enough to beat the daily swimmers and I could imagine that the lake was mine.

Occasionally, I would stop swimming in the middle of the lake and turn over onto my back.  I would float on the gray expanse and think to myself, "This is it, I am never getting out."

My long, dirty blond hair would float on the surface of the water around me, getting heavier and darker the longer I floated on my back. I would focus on that hair.  Feeling its weight pulling me down into the water before I allowed it to drag me into the dark depths.

I would relax into the coolness of the water as it closed over my head, my breath trapped in my chest, straining to get out. I would wait, eyes closed, face turned up toward the sunlight trickling dimly through the water and feel the strange combination of warmth and cold.

When my chest began to burn, I would burst from the water and draw in as much oxygen as I could.  Then I would turn my eyes back to the shore I had come from and return to it.  Usually by the time I managed to make it back, the early swimmers would be walking down the hill to the lake.

I would collect my stuff and head home, my lake no longer mine.  I knew then that I shouldn't have been swimming on my own.  So much could have happened but if it hadn't been for that summer, I don't think I would have loved the water as much as I do now.

And that is what I was thinking about today as the sun was trickling through the tree branches, how lovely it would be to swim in my lake today.

You Thought I Wouldn't Make It

...But I did.  I made my second post just under the wire with a little over an hour to spare.  But really, what can I talk about that has changed from yesterday.  The answer is, not a whole lot.  But that isn't what matters.  What matters is that I take the time to write and meet the challenge I have created for myself.  I have done two days of squats, crunches and planking and while I am still in the low numbers, I am feeling great about myself.

It seems like the biggest hurdle for me is the animals.  Yes, I love animals and I have quite the menagerie of animals in my home.   Two dogs and 1 cat.  It used to be a lot more than that but this last year has been a hard one.  In the summer of 2012, my 16 year old cat passed away.  Winter of 2013, my son's 8 year old bearded dragon passed away as well.  Now we have a 9 year old Labrador Retriever, a 18 month old English Mastiff and a 5 year old orange tabby.

While I love all the animals in my home, the English Mastiff is my girl.  An absolutely amazing dog and I will never go without one in my home after Daisy.  I love the breed and they are wonderful with children and other animals.  She is playful and calm and my biggest complaint about her is that she has the worst gas imaginable.  I mean, she could make a grown man cry...and has on a few occasions.  But regardless, English Mastiffs are the breed for me.

And to end this post, I thought I would show you a video of my little English Mastiff when she was first brought home.

¸

30 Days of Challenges

One thing that I have found over the last few years is that it is very easy to just put my own health to the side.  There are always thousands of other things that I need to do and the kids need this or that.  By the end, I am too tired to do something for myself.

That is one of the reason why this blog has tumbled into the state that it is in but this year is all about recharging.  I will be recharging my business, my home, my garden and myself.  Time to spend a bit of time on myself and not use all of my time on the family, the dogs and the clients that I have.  Yes, I will still get my work done and I really enjoy working with my clients.  I also enjoy spending my time with my family and the dogs but I need to spend some time just for me.

So, let the recharge begin.  First with this blog and the challenges that I have set for myself.

Challenges that I am doing for the month of May, starting today, are:

30 Days of Blog Posts

Yes, this is day one of blog posts and by the end of 30 days, hopefully, I will have a blog post a day on here, and growing.

30 Days of Squats

The whole 30 days of challenges started when I came across this post on my facebook page.  30 days of squats starting with 50 squats.  I swallowed that kernel of fear that was choking me as I said I would join the group.  This morning, after the kids went to school, I got down to business and did 50 squats.  I could feel the burn in my body but I managed through it.  Hopefully, I will be able to keep going with this.

30 Days of Planks

Just like the squats, I decided to do the planks.  Day one was horrible and I barely made it the 20 seconds for the plank.  My arms were quivering as I watched the stop watch placed beside me.  I don't trust myself to do the count in my head. I know that 20 seconds would go a lot faster if I was the one counting it.  So yes, as each millisecond slid onto the screen, I kept wondering if the stopwatch was broken.

30 Days of Crunches

And finally, I will be doing 30 days of crunches.  Another one that is going to be really hard for me.  Crunches are probably one of the top exercises that I hate and I often avoid doing it but here's hoping I will stick to it.

I do have a slave driver...er...I mean a support group for this.  My husband is happy to make sure that I am sticking to the challenge.  He is very good, almost too good, at keeping me on task when I set one for myself  About 6 months ago, I quite drinking coffee and even now, when I hint at having a coffee (or try to have a coffee), he makes sure I don't.  So the first hint that I am going to quit, I am sure he will be on me.

At the end of the month, if I succeed, I will give myself a huge reward...my husband thinks I should join the kwoon he goes to so I can punish my body even more...I guess.  So if you are interested in doing the challenges with me.  Please sign up in the comments section.

10 Years Ago Today

Ten years ago today, I gave birth to a beautiful little boy. I loved him from the moment that I saw him and while I was overjoyed at being a mother, I didn't cry. For years, that fact bothered me and I often wondered what type of mother I was. I felt as if I was lacking in some area or other because I hadn't cried at the pure joy that becoming a mother was.

I had seen it on countless television shows. I watched as my husband grew tearful, as certain visitors grew tearful. Had seen it at the birth of two of my nephews. I sat there, waiting, wondering, worrying about the tears that didn't fall.

But I pushed those thoughts aside and turned to the little being that filled my life completely. I loved him before I even knew about him. I felt a piece of my soul slip away and I knew that he held it safely in his heart. There is no better feeling than meeting his gaze the moment after he is born and finding a soul that is part of you.

I have watched that little soul grow, watched him make his own choices. Laughed when he laughed. Calmed when he was scared. Comforted when he cried. I embraced being a mother and celebrated each success that he has had.

It has been a roller coaster of emotion being a mother. Highs, lows, stresses, celebrations and trials. A world that is rich in color and emotion and is made richer with each laughter that I hear. It is in those moments that I can stop and listen...feeling again that little piece of my soul that he is keeping safe within him. It is during those moments that all the lows, stresses and tribulations are worth it. The celebrations of the everyday.

Like all mothers, I can safely say that my son is amazing. Intelligent, empathetic, and imaginative, he is as stubborn as his mom and I love that part of him, the part that challenges the norm and asks the question, "Why?" Sure, I don't always like it but I am proud that he is becoming an individual that I can respect.

It is hard to imagine that he is 10. That a decade has passed and I have been there for all of it. I have become a little wiser, have realized many times that I wasn't prepared in some ways to be a mother but I don't think anyone is. I have realized that simply guiding him through his growth is better than steering him in a direction I want him to go.

I have realized that those few moments after he was born, when I didn't cry, didn't mean a thing about me as a mother. It just means that I have saved those tears for the other events where he can see me, his mother, standing there with pride as tears shine brightly in my eyes. (Which he has seen many times already.)

So to my little boy, who isn't so little anymore, I am proud of you, I love you and I celebrate all the little (and big) things that make you who you are. Happy Birthday.

The Shark

Another story that I wrote when I was 15 at the direction of my creative writing course. One thing that I should mention is that much of the writing that I did when I was 15 and 16 was because my teacher, Marilyn, had inspired me or asked me to write it. I remember giving her a story about Death and she began to cry when she read it. She asked to show it to one of her collegues and I never saw it again. I think it may have went into one of my files. It was during this time that I recieved an award for "Most Promising Writer of the Year," and hopefully, I will one day live up to that award.

This was a creative blurb that was written when I was given an animal to write about. At the time, I really detested sharks (probably because I lived near an ocean) but I still muddled through it.

The Shark

He swims through the ocean both predator and prey. Predator of the abundant fish and food. Prey to the instinct that only consists of hunger. He suffers but yet he tortures. he is feared, but still fears more. And what does he fear you ask. The shark fears the same things we fear; man, others, and death itself.

Should we hate the shark because he is so much like man? Should we destory the creature that is close to our brother? Should we destroy something that's only crime was to lash out at the things that he fears the most?

Are not men like a shark clothed? If so, should we not destroy ourselves for the way we lash out at things we fear. Does man feel pain? So tell me why a shark would not? And answer this last question for me. Does not the shark deserve life?

The Lotus Part Four

You faded from my sight and I gathered by the shore, longing to see you once again. Hoping that I had simply missed you in my passing. You hadn't disappeared but had drifted out of sight as many things have done in the past.

It was to no avail, you are gone and as the days drifted by I stop searching for you, although I remember the vibrancy of your petals. I search the water for other flowers but they don't appear...until one morning, only a few days before I leave your lake behind.

That morning, I hear the kids cry out, "Mom, your flowers are back."

I look out into the water, and it is a celebration of white floating on the dark, inky water. I smile at the sight and race for my camera, ready to take the pictures but as I do, I realize that these are not my flower. My flower has drifted down into the pond where it had come from and while these flowers are beautiful, there was something delicate about my flower.

There was a beauty of a lonely flower, the only splash of white on the otherwise dark surface of the lake and that solitude was what had drawn my thoughts.

I still took the photos, but these flowers did not capture my imagination like my solitary lotus and I only took photos for one day. And these are the photos that I will end my Lotus journey with you.

A Lotus Emerging:


One that caught my eye:





And another one:


And another:

Wolf Dream

Moonlight trickles into the room and I watch it play along my wall casting images that make my heart beat quickly. I turn away from it, from the shadows that are terrifying to me. My eyes try to peer through the darkness of the rest of my room but the shadows are too thick and I close my eyes to block out the imagined monsters lurking there.

The air in the room presses against me and I struggle under the blankets trying to kick them off. My skin feels like it is on fire but the cool breeze from the air conditioning does nothing to calm it. It feels as though a thousand embers are slowly burning against me and I fight the urge to jump up and swipe at my skin.

As I shift restlessly on my bed, a noise comes to me. Deep, primal, fierce - the growl raises the hairs on the back of my neck and I suddenly feel cold, as though I had been dunked in a tank of ice water. I turn towards the window. The blinds pulled tight enough so I can see nothing but the vibrant moonlight.

I know they are there, watching the window. Their growls pulling me up onto my feet and I stand at the window, my hand hovering over the pull. The urge to see them is strong but I fight it, telling myself to go back to bed. Telling myself to forget the pull of the growls. There is nothing there for me but pain.

I shake my head, my long blonde hair cascading around my face and my fingers touch the cold plastic of the blinds. Biting my lip, I raise the blinds and search the darkness outside.

My gaze falls upon the first wolf and he is beautiful. His eyes flash yellow in the moonlight and his lips curl upwards as the snarl pours from his throat. The rest of the pack of wolves are turned towards him, watching him. I sigh at the beauty and lean forward to try to catch a better view but as I do, the pack shifts and they turn their wild eyes onto me.

I freeze but before I can drop the blinds, pain lances through me and I feel myself changing, become the wolf. Yellow eyes watch me with interest and I hear them calling, "You are here. Finally, you are here..."

I start awake, sitting straight up from bed and stare at the window. I can hear the deep, throaty growls and I long to stand up and see what is there. I remember the dream and lay back down. Tears prick at my eyes and I turn away, too afraid of what may happen, where I finally fall asleep...

As I mentioned a few days ago in my wolf story, shortly after my first encounter with a pack, I began having a wolf dream. It was reoccurring and sometimes, when I woke up from it, I would wonder if it was a dream at all. Maybe it was something deeper and while I longed to figure out what it was, I could never bring myself to delve deeper into it.

The first time I dreamt it, I never realized that it was a dream within a dream when I woke up but after I kept having the dream, I realized that it was just a second part of the wolf dream.

I think though that it was a reminder to find myself. That I need to arrive to where I am going so that a new journey can start. On the other hand...it could just be a dream but there is never anything wrong with dreaming.

Poems from a 16 Year Old

As I did a few days ago, I thought I would post another one of my blast from the past poems that I found. I wrote these when I was 16 and you can tell that I had all the teen angst stuff down. I also had a bit of a negative view on the world if I don't say so myself.

Untitled Poem #1:

Life came
Then
The terror of Death
Life
Through pain was destroyed
Death
Was always waiting
To
Fill a Life
A
Child's Life with sorrow

Untitled Thought #2

(Both were on the same page for some reason)

People feel that love is a gift that can only be from the angels, they are right. But some people get to feel that love is a curse that can only be sent by the devil, for the fires of love are painful, they too are right.

Learn!

As I mentioned a few days ago, I have decided to start moving forward by giving myself some goals. I have found that it is very easy to stop. To begin to stagnate and enjoy the status quo. There is nothing new, nothing that really changes but instead of moving forward, you start to simply accept it. You forget that life can be more than the daily routine.

Over the last three years, I have really hit the status quo. I have worried for so long that maybe I should be normal and I have tried. Unfortunately, that trying has been to stagnate, to stop learning, stop growing, stop doing things that make me...well...me.

I have forgotten the words I said to myself years ago, “It’s not that I wish I wasn’t strange, only that I was eccentric enough not to care.”

I had begun to care that I didn’t fit right, that I was misshaped peg that didn’t fit into any hole. The biggest problem with this is that the more I tried to fit, the more people would notice that I didn’t. It has led to some hard years for me and even my kids have told me that their friends say I am weird or crazy.
But I digress, change needs to happen for me to feel happy and the first goal was to laugh a bit more and a bit deeper. The second goal is to start learning again. The more I learn, the happier I am.

Right now, I am starting to research how to become a Doula. I love attending births and the goal is to work through several levels of the program and then move onto working with Teens. Of course, all this will be while I keep writing. It is often sad that I have so many passions and interests because there is no way that I will be able to enjoy them all.

But for now, I am looking forward to working on this goal and even if I don’t start learning about becoming a doula right away, I will be moving forward. So goal number two is learn but I think in ways, it is simply a reminder to me that I do much better when I am moving forward either in mind, body or spirit.

The Pack

Whiteness. That's all I remember for much of that night. Just the white that covered the road, the van and all the other vehicles on the highway. It hung in the air and when you opened the window, it invaded your throat making you gasp at the iciness of it.

It was a strange winter storm for the lower mainland in British Columbia but it wasn't unheard of. What was unheard of, was the fact that I was in it, sitting in the van beside my step father. He had ventured out before the storm to pick me up for my weekend visit and while it had threatened to snow before we left; we never expected it to be this bad.

The traffic, already crawling at a snail's pace, ground to a halt as a road block of RCMP officers stopped everyone. They were bundled up in thick parkas and gloves, but they still looked like they were freezing. My step dad rolled down his window and he asked, "What's wrong officer?"

"The main highway to Hope has been closed. We are telling people to either turn around or go up the alternate highway."

"That's still open!"

"Last we heard it was. The storm hasn't reached it as badly yet."

I kept quiet but prayed he would turn around and just take me home. The last thing I wanted was to be trapped in the middle of nowhere in this weather. My step dad ground his teeth in thought and then turned to me, "Do you want to try?"

Being only 14,I simply nodded to keep him from being disappointed. As he pulled the big, yellow van onto the ramp to the back highway, I turned to the window and rested my forehead against it.

I breathed out, my vision obscurred with a thick fog before I watched it slowly disappear under the heat of the vent. I stared at the few taillights that pushed through the thick snow; the road nearly invisible. Other travellers who were braving the near white out conditions.

I spent the drive in silence, waiting for something to happen. I peered into each car we passed that had slid into the ditch and made sure no one was trapped in them before I tore my eyes from ditch, praying that we wouldn't find ourselves in it.

Finally, my eyes grew heavy as the miles slid by...

"Sirena, wake up."

The voice was sharp, urgent and it pulled me from my sleep instantly. I jerked awake, grabbed the door and feared for the worst - maybe our van was sliding into a ditch, maybe something even worse was happening.

What I saw took my breath away and this time, as I leaned my head against the cold window, I held my breath, terrified that I would lose sight of this enchantment.

I wondered if I was still dreaming but I knew it was real and tears stung my eyes at the emotion choking my throat.

The snow had stopped falling but the frost still hung in the night air like diamonds twinkling in the moonlight that was pushing through the cloud cover. We were alone on the highway, our headlights breaking through the darkness but beside us the snow caught the moonlight and glowed with an eerie beauty.

Panting through it were 15 wolves, their heavy gray coats glistening with the melting snow, their strong feet landing directly into the footsteps of the animal before them. They panted as they worked, their tongues lolling, their ears perked forward and their tails held straight behind them.

I was only watching them from behind a car window but I felt drawn to the wolves as they pushed through the stretch of flat snow between the road and the forest. Despite the cold, the loneliness of the highway, despite what had driven them from the forest, all of the wolves look happy. I wanted to have my step dad pull over. Wanted to get out and watch them for a while but before I could even ask, we were already pulling past them.

I craned my neck, trying to watch them for as long as I could and when they finally faded from sight, I realized that my cheeks were wet from my tears.

You may be wondering why I started this post with that story but it is one of the first times I had ever seen a whole pack in the wild. I grew up in some pretty âmazing places and while I had seen lone wolves before, I had never seen a whole pack. I felt truly blessed that day because I saw something so beautiful and so spectacular. I think it was that moment that I fell completely in love with wolves and they are my favorite animal to this day.

In fact, I used to have a reoccurring dream about wolves that started shortly after that fateful night but I will save that for tomorrow. For today, I just wanted to share my wolf story with you to get you interested in what I will be sharing in the next few days and that will be my visit to the wolf centre. As you can imagine, it was the highlight of my vacation and if I could have spent more than one day there, I would have.

So a story today, a dream tomorrow and then the experience of seeing the wolves at the wolf center shortly after that.

The Lotus Part 3

Silence fills the world around us and I focus on your beauty. Is it me or is your beauty fading? I wonder if it will last until tomorrow or if I will come down the stairs and find you gone; your secrets disappearing with you. But that is for tomorrow and today I capture your silence with my lens; your secrets still hidden away.

The kids say that you are mine but you remain out of reach from me. If I could, I would wade into the water and pluck you from it so I could carry you with me but I cannot bring myself to draw you away. You are where you belong and I will continue to paint your image across my mind as I click away with my camera.

The lotus for the third day, unfortunately, it was the last day that I could photograph her. Funny, I started calling the flower a her at about the same time the kids started calling it my flower. The following day, the flower was gone and I had to turn my camera onto other things.

Here are the final photos of my lotus before she closed her petals one last night.