To Reconnections

For my 22nd birthday, I received something that made me cry. I’m not sure what it is was exactly, or if it was everything, that tipped the tears from my eyes. I try to avoid writing about my family or anything more personal than my thoughts. I read a piece by Janne Robinson yesterday though. It was about how she never got to know her grandpa before he passed. I don’t want that from my life. I love my grandparents, they’re the parents I always wished I had but my grandpas 93, and every day I say I should call and every day, I don’t.

I went to the post office yesterday, I had a letter from home. I was expecting the usual gift of something I’ll never use, instead I received a letter that had the standard HBD and a scrawled “love mom and dad” in my mothers hand writing. It hurt. Not in a I’m home sick and miss them kind of way like one would think. My dad hasn’t said Happy Birthday since he kicked me out 4 years ago, maybe longer. That card? He probably doesn’t even know my mom sent it and signed his name. Just like she’s probably signed my name on his fathers day card without asking me if I wanted to send him anything. We just don’t talk.

I gave up on a relationship after he ruined my graduation and I spent the night crying in my boyfriends arms. I just couldn’t understand at 18 how a man with 40 years on me couldn’t make any effort at having a relationship with his youngest daughter. I still don’t, that much hasn’t changed. But I don’t even know his story. He was adopted, I don’t know what age. I don’t know what it was like to grow up the only black, left handed, adopted boy in a tiny town in BC, Canada. I don’t know the names of over half his siblings. I don’t know my biological or my adoptive grandfathers first names. Or who Phylis really is related to, just that we like her. Everyone always jokes on fathers day that girls with daddy issues will struggle, try having fathers day and your birthday and major unsurfaced heartache hit you like a bus, all at once.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been told its impossible to shop for me. I generally don’t find myself needing anything. And I have a body shape that looks like you’ve cut different peoples “assets” apart and plastered them to mine, so clothes are not an option. Most the time, I end up getting nothing. Which doesn’t bother me, but I always thought how nice it seemed for people who know exactly what to get someone, exactly what they’ll love or will make them laugh. Like a favourite chocolate bar, I would never say no to Reeces.

I received a book. I read horrible books, I know it and so does everyone else. Usually romance, sometimes paranormal, possibly erotica, always sappy about how so and so’s world is ending. I’m a little embarrassed, considering how much I love to write, but I’ve tried and tried and can never get into a “classic” novel. This book however is none of the above. I feel like I’ve been given incite into the owner of this book, my muse. He lent it to me with the message that it is one of his favourites and I should read it, and I love it. I love it for the out of the ordinary way of writing, the time they’re living in and the  sentimental value that it now holds for me. I’ll admit that I didn’t react in any way when I received the present, I struggle to show strong emotions in front of people, fear of judgement. But the next day, seeing it sitting on my bedside table and getting that card from home, I broke down. For a present, for a book, for the love I knew was missing but didn’t realize I needed.


Is that an excuse?

Is telling someone you’re not good enough for them an excuse? Or do you have their best interest at heart and want them to be happy? I hate to be told that I’m too good for someone or they’re not good enough for me. I love that my friends think I deserve the world but why can’t what I want be good enough for me? Considering I rarely want for anything. My sister asked me what I want for my birthday and I said nothing, there’s nothing I need.I remember sitting in my room telling my ex that I’d met someone and was over the sick game we’d been playing with each other. He was angry, told me I was better than an expat who was constantly fiending for the next drugs. Then he looked at me and said he should’ve proposed but that he would never be good enough for me. We’d dated for 3 years and I would’ve dropped the world for him. I only came back to Canada for him and he punched a hole in my chest by saying that. Not just the proposal part, but I spent 3 years showing my unconditional love for this boy and his insecurities kept him from fighting for me.

I’ve been told I’m intimidating. I don’t see it, I have just as many insecurities and imperfections as the next person. I just prefer to put on a brave face, act like I know what I’m doing and feign confidence. For some reason people think I’ve got my ducks in a row and that they’ll only knock one over by being with me. If I choose to let you into my life, if I decide to give you a chance, that is me saying you are good enough. If you weren’t, I’d have no trouble rejecting you like every other boy who crosses my path. I had someone try and convince me that they were perfect for me. We had known each other for a week when he started asking me to quit my job and come work with him, the possibility of moving in together in a few months, traveling the world together when he was done his apprenticeship. And I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go on a date with him.

This is one of those moments where you can’t have what you want. But I was told you should ask for what you want. So I’m asking, as much as I hate rejection, waiting, anticipation. Maybe that girl was right when she said I need to ask for what I want, the world can only give back what you’ve already put out in to it. Or as some might say, Karma. It’s better to put it out there, be open, honest. I’d rather be happy it happened over wondering what could’ve been. I feel like that was a lot of clichés all at once. I’m sorry.

Rant over. I feel better.

Chasing Waterfalls

Funnily enough, my muse wrote a piece about how off topic his blog had become and I realized that the exact same thing was true for me. I started this to discuss travel. If you look back 2 years at this time I was flying solo around Europe and documenting it here. Lately, I’ve been caught up in the whirlwind that is falling in love and nothing else has matter in my mind. But I want to stay on track, as I gear up to move across the world in 8 months, fingers crossed, I want to get back into travel writing.

So I set a goal, as you do. My goal is to find as many waterfalls as I can this summer. I’m a sucker for the falling water, a side effect of growing up ten minutes away from Cliff Falls. Nothing is as grounding, calming or soothing as the pounding water next to you as you just sit and enjoy your surroundings on a summer day. So far I’ve visited 5 in the Bow Valley area, and have 2 more on my list to see. While I’m focusing on the Bow Valley and Kananaskis areas, there are a few that are day trips that I have as must sees on my list.

I have to mention Cascade Falls as I will probably be frequenting that one the most. It’s about 20 minutes, mostly uphill, from the parking lot. What I like is that you can see your destination the entire way to the falls, and then you’re rewarded with a cliff edge right next to the falls overlooking Banff. You have a beautiful view of Rundle Mt. and could claim hiking Cascade, the biggest mountain in Banff. Tomorrow I hope to visit Troll Falls, depending on if Night Audit kills me or not, but only time will tell, and the pictures I’ll be posting all summer long.

Changing Paths

It’s better to chase something you want verses letting it slip by. You’ll always wander as things pass you by what if but when it’s something you truly want, you’ll know. It’ll hit you like a ton of bricks, or a bus. The moment you lose it, there’s an intense regret over messing up whatever the situation was. 

Yesterday I read something beautiful, it spoke straight into my heart and I could feel myself melting. The cold exterior I built around myself over the last year started to wear away, and that scares the living shit out of me. I’ve been in love. It was pure bliss, having someone know you so completely that you feel whole. So when that ends, it’ll never end neatly or peacefully. It’s called heart break for a reason. 

How do you open yourself up to potential self-destruction? With something incredible standing in front of me, I’m having a fight or flight moment. All I’ve done the last year is run, from everything that wouldn’t have been easy emotionally, I wanted to rid my life of negativity. I am truly unbelievably happy in life at this moment. And I have a possibility to feel whole again, whether it be six days, six weeks or six months. But can I handle the aftermath?

Growing up, I knew I have a destructive personality. When I’m unhappy, I crave change. I’ve shaved my head, quit jobs, bought a new car, solely because something needs to change in my life for me to move forward again. I had 6 months of wallowing after my ex. 6 months of letting him use me, tears and netflixs. It’s the darkest period in my life because I feel like I stopped living. Someone asked me why I would deny something I want. I usually believe in throwing yourself at the things you want. You want to move? Go for it. Over your lover? Leave him. Sushi? Sushi. But matters of the heart are a different category. I keep it locked away from all situations for safe keeping. 

But caving for a desire that will reveal the door? I take that seriously. Because if they’re using you, or lying to get whatever they want, at the end of the day they move on satisfied while I sit at home with a hole punched through my wall and a new layer of ice around my heart. Right now, I feel like I’ve taken my eyes off the key for a second, and you’re standing in front of me with it in your hands. I am completely terrified, frozen with fear, I feel as if the floor has dropped out from beneath my feet. 

But I’ve decided this is something I want to hold onto, not pass me by. Normally I’d kill to have that key and keep my doors hidden, but I’m stepping aside and the choice is yours. If it ends in heartbreak, at least I’ll be able to look back and know that I was truly happy in that moment.