Today is International Women's Day; a day designed to acknowledge and celebrate the many accomplishments and progress that women have made too and on this planet. It is also a day to reflect on the thousands of women around the World who still struggle to have their voices heard and their worth acknowledged.
Many countries in the World today still adhere to laws and lifestyles that oppress their feminine population. Through my work I have had the pleasure of meeting one elderly woman who spent the majority of her years oppressed under the cruel dictatorship of her male relatives predominately her husband. This individual's story begins as many of its kind do in a country divided by economic status, ethnicity, religion and dominated by poverty. Born into a family of peasant farmers with very little materialistic wealth and thus little means to provide any children with a formal education it was decreed by her father that she would recieve no formal schooling. Her early years; which today according to the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of the Child should be spent in a carefree way devoted to learning and playing were spent cooking, cleaning and tending to her family's modest farm. When she became of an age her father arranged for her a marriage; as was the custom to a local boy whom he thought would be a good husband for his daughter. At this time she was given to "the local boy" in marriage and took on the responsabilities of a wife. She was too cook, clean, bare and raise for him healthy children and follow his law to the letter. During their younger married years her husband made the decision that she would work in rice patties to bring in an additional income for their household. Every day for as long as he decided she got up each morning prepared her husband breakfast and cooked lunch to ensure he was feed at noon while she was at work and than walked miles barefoot in the sweltering heat to the rice patties where she labored for long hours only to walk miles back home. Once she reached home she was expected to clean and prepare supper. Her husband eventually opened his own business and at the time it was decided that she would aide him with this (or as other members of her family have told me do most of the work while her husband reeped the economic rewards). Along with aiding her husband in his business ventures she was still expected to tend to the house, prepare food whenever her husband wanted, take care of the children and fill any other "need" her husband had whenever he wanted. She endured years of physical abuse at the hands of her husband; a bad day at work earned her a beating, one of the children misbehaved she was beaten, he consummed too much alchool she suffered for that as well. Emotional and physical abuse often go hand in hand as was the case for her; along with the random beatings he subjected her too she was also forced to endure the many other women he would bring home to their marital bed. When he was having a bad day she was called every wicked name under the sun; the only one which really affected her was "stupid". Not able to read and write due to a lack of formal schooling she has struggled with a complex her whole life; her opinon does not matter after all she can't even read. She never mentioned to him that she knew even though it was painfully obvious because keeping quite meant one less beating. Nothing moves as steadily as time and soon their children were done formal schooling, married and raising children of their own. Age was not allowed to slow her when it came to the fulfillment of her wifely duties and she was obligated to care for him until he became too ill for her to do it alone and had to turn to her children for assistance. It has only been in the later years of life that she has been free of the monster who ruled her every waking hour for years. She is only free of having him by her side but his presence and the oppression that her society deemed it appropriate for her to be subjected too at his hands she will breath her last feeling.
One of the more memorable days at work for me was when I went to visit her in her room and she was sitting looking out her window. She was obviously lost in her thoughts in a time and place where she was less than human. I sat down on her window ledge and placed my hand over hers very gentle. Her eyes opened and brimmed with tears and she squeezed my hand and said "I may not be able to read but I am not dumb"...and she is right but a lifetime of oppression will never let her really believe that or set her free.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Thank You Sigmund Freud
Those of you devoted fans that follow both my blog and my facebook account (should also know I am on twitter and might want to start following me on that as well) will have figured out from my recent whiny facebook updates that I am ONCE again battling a cold. Actually, I am battling the mother of all colds; the kind of knock you off your feet, make you ache all over, almost stop breathing in your sleep, look and feel like death warmed over, whine like a man cold. Anyways, because I work in health care with the more elderly members of society when I get ill I venture to a walk in clinic for one of two things either a doctors note to excuse me from work or one to say I am "safe" to return too work (which now thanks to the newer "for profit modeled after our American counterparts health care system" costs me around twenty dollars...just stellar). Conveniently enough there is one such walk in clinic literally within walking distance from where I currently reside (oh the irony). However, since I "invest" in a monthly TTC pass I make that sucker work for me and take the bus...well that and the fact who wants to walk when they feel like crap especially when Canada's winter weather has been so bi-polar lately (or as I often refer to it as God PMSing...actually to be honest that is what I call thunderstorms and terrental downpours).
Anyways, this Friday I went to this walk in clinic and waited huddled up in a corner of the waiitng room with my scarf covering my face as to avoid picking up anyother germs from the abundance of hacking troopers also waiting on the doctor. I was called in quite quickly and therefore cannot complain about the wait as I have been to some walk in clinics where you wait out the duration of your illness on a doctor. The kindly doctor examines me informs me I have an upper respitory infection but since my right gland is swollen and very sensitive to touch she is going to do a swab for strep throat (after a few unsuccesful attempts due to my horrid gag reflexes the swab is obtained). Due to the progresses of modern medicine they can now test for strep throat without sending your swab to a lab; playing mad scientist the doctor went about mixing some illexur up placed in the swab in it and informed we the wait would be about eight to ten minutes. Fine by me; I was just planning on going home and too bed but I can spend an additional eight to ten sitting looking like a zombie in an examining room. So what exactly does one discuss with a doctor as you wait on your test results? as she was giving me my exam we already discussed the basics (weather...). Looking up from a makeshift chart they had for me she asks completely out of the blue..."are you sexually active?"...now I could understand this question if I had come to the clinic with other complaints but since the diagnosis had already been given and antibotics were going to be given this question threw me for a loop. Than I got to thinking the last time I had been a guest at this fine establishment the doctor had also asked me an eerily samiliar question AND after diagnosing me. Although the last doctor had been more commicial in his line of questioning and I highly doubt with the intention of being. The conversation with him had gone something like this: "Is there a possability you could be pregnant?" No "well how do you know?" (seriously; did you sleep in on the day they covered female reproductive health in medicial school?).
I feel as though sex should be discussed in the confines of a doctors examining room after all it is your body and you should feel empowered enough especially in the 21st century to have an open dialogue with your physician regarding sexual health. However, at a walk in clinic post diagnosis with no mediciation to be prescribed bluntly asked questions regarding sexual health to me just are not appropriate.
Anyways, this Friday I went to this walk in clinic and waited huddled up in a corner of the waiitng room with my scarf covering my face as to avoid picking up anyother germs from the abundance of hacking troopers also waiting on the doctor. I was called in quite quickly and therefore cannot complain about the wait as I have been to some walk in clinics where you wait out the duration of your illness on a doctor. The kindly doctor examines me informs me I have an upper respitory infection but since my right gland is swollen and very sensitive to touch she is going to do a swab for strep throat (after a few unsuccesful attempts due to my horrid gag reflexes the swab is obtained). Due to the progresses of modern medicine they can now test for strep throat without sending your swab to a lab; playing mad scientist the doctor went about mixing some illexur up placed in the swab in it and informed we the wait would be about eight to ten minutes. Fine by me; I was just planning on going home and too bed but I can spend an additional eight to ten sitting looking like a zombie in an examining room. So what exactly does one discuss with a doctor as you wait on your test results? as she was giving me my exam we already discussed the basics (weather...). Looking up from a makeshift chart they had for me she asks completely out of the blue..."are you sexually active?"...now I could understand this question if I had come to the clinic with other complaints but since the diagnosis had already been given and antibotics were going to be given this question threw me for a loop. Than I got to thinking the last time I had been a guest at this fine establishment the doctor had also asked me an eerily samiliar question AND after diagnosing me. Although the last doctor had been more commicial in his line of questioning and I highly doubt with the intention of being. The conversation with him had gone something like this: "Is there a possability you could be pregnant?" No "well how do you know?" (seriously; did you sleep in on the day they covered female reproductive health in medicial school?).
I feel as though sex should be discussed in the confines of a doctors examining room after all it is your body and you should feel empowered enough especially in the 21st century to have an open dialogue with your physician regarding sexual health. However, at a walk in clinic post diagnosis with no mediciation to be prescribed bluntly asked questions regarding sexual health to me just are not appropriate.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Maybe I have watched one to many Dateline specials or read one too many books on the subject or perhaps it was the influx of coverage on the issue that the media presented a few years back. Or perhaps maybe I am just a bad Catholic; I do not trust priests or men of the cloth; maybe it is just my hightened awareness of the many children who suffered at the hands of the bad apples. It is said it takes one bad apple to spoil the whole bunch; than what do a thousand bad apples spoil? I suppose if it had been one or two cases it would have been a sad situation but an ioslated one perhaps even a curable one. The fact that it was thousands of stories and when they came to light they uncovered years of systematic abuse of the worst kind made it an unforgiveable one. Abuse at the most intimate level and done to the most vulnerable population resulting in years of suffering, countless suicides and hundreds of lost souls. Abuse that did not just occur in one parish, in one town, in one city but rather in hundreds of parishes, in thousands of towns and in more than one country. No, I cannot trust priests anymore and I definately have lost any faith I once had in the Catholic church. Any institution that not only hides evil but protects evil and nurtures it deserves it's own undoing in the worst way. Any individual or insititution who uses God or the bible as a facade too perform acts of evil deserve to burn in the same pits of hell they so readily condemn others too.
Many victims of the Catholic Church have come forward but many still remain faceless; people whose childhoods were full of fear and self loathing. Children who reached out to those supposed to protect them and instead of recieving the help they so desperately needed were told that there was no way a man who gave his life to God could do the horriable things they were allegeding. After all it was probabily their fault they asked for it; they continued to spend time with the individuals, they allowed themselves to be victimized maybe they even secretly wanted it. After all that kind of evil would never be inside of a man who took his vows. So they were silenced and carried the burden for years many unable to trust another human being, many unable to marry, many who drank and did drugs until they were numb to the World, many who thought their lives were worthless enough to end, many who left bruises on the faces of their wives and children so many who just wanted somebody to tell them they did nothing wrong and did not deserve what happened to them.
Where or where was the Vatican in all of this; after all weren't they supposed to be sheperding their flock? Instead they acted like a drunk sheperd who became so intoxicated that they fell asleep and let their flock desacrate the neighbourhood where they lived. Than when the mob of angry torch wielding villagers came for retribution they pulled out their cheque books and tried to silence them with money; that very thing which the holy book teaches us is the root of all evil. They tried to smooth over the situation after all what is a child's innocence in comparison to a priests good name? Think of the shame the priest would have to go through if their good name was dragged through the mud. Think of what would happen to all they worked for. Won't somebody think of the priests in all of this! The vatican had a solution after all they would remove the abuser priests from their current assignment, send them for "help" where they would be magically cured and move them to another parish where a whole new group of trusting families with children awaited them. This is the kind of situation a whole registry of sex offenders dream of. Absolute power, nobody to answer too, protetion from criminal law and ready access to children.
People who sit in the pews of the Catholic churches today who turn a blind eye to the fact that pedophila is very much alive in the church today need to wake up. Chances dictate there are probabily good priests out there but when I see a man dressed in his holy robes WARNING lights flash in my head.
I don't know what the cure is but I know it is not silencing the victims or blaming them; no victim of sexual assault ever asked for what they got or deserved what they got. I also know that it is not the protection of priests by the Vatican from prosecution it's time to put these spineless beings in cages where they belong; and don't preach any of your "they can be cured" nonsense too me. The only man I ever heard of who could cure anybody was Jesus Christ and I doubt even a man of such forgiveness would offer a cure to someone who caused an innocent child to hate their own skin. I also know that pouring more money into the Catholic Church is not the cure either. No sheperd needs to live in a house with a ceiling made of gold while members of their flock make innocent children feel like sheep excrimint.
(I wrote this article because statistics show one in four individuals will suffer from sexual abuse in their lifetime; many of them will never have justice and will live and die feeling as though they deserved what happened to them. If your childhood, teenage years or adulthood was scarred by sexual abuse you do not have to suffer in silence. It's time to find your voice and to use it; it will not be easy but you do not have to do it alone anymore. Nobody is going to judge you, nobody is going to think any less of you what happened to you is not your fault and it is not who you are...you can overcome it the first step is acknowledging it...)
Many victims of the Catholic Church have come forward but many still remain faceless; people whose childhoods were full of fear and self loathing. Children who reached out to those supposed to protect them and instead of recieving the help they so desperately needed were told that there was no way a man who gave his life to God could do the horriable things they were allegeding. After all it was probabily their fault they asked for it; they continued to spend time with the individuals, they allowed themselves to be victimized maybe they even secretly wanted it. After all that kind of evil would never be inside of a man who took his vows. So they were silenced and carried the burden for years many unable to trust another human being, many unable to marry, many who drank and did drugs until they were numb to the World, many who thought their lives were worthless enough to end, many who left bruises on the faces of their wives and children so many who just wanted somebody to tell them they did nothing wrong and did not deserve what happened to them.
Where or where was the Vatican in all of this; after all weren't they supposed to be sheperding their flock? Instead they acted like a drunk sheperd who became so intoxicated that they fell asleep and let their flock desacrate the neighbourhood where they lived. Than when the mob of angry torch wielding villagers came for retribution they pulled out their cheque books and tried to silence them with money; that very thing which the holy book teaches us is the root of all evil. They tried to smooth over the situation after all what is a child's innocence in comparison to a priests good name? Think of the shame the priest would have to go through if their good name was dragged through the mud. Think of what would happen to all they worked for. Won't somebody think of the priests in all of this! The vatican had a solution after all they would remove the abuser priests from their current assignment, send them for "help" where they would be magically cured and move them to another parish where a whole new group of trusting families with children awaited them. This is the kind of situation a whole registry of sex offenders dream of. Absolute power, nobody to answer too, protetion from criminal law and ready access to children.
People who sit in the pews of the Catholic churches today who turn a blind eye to the fact that pedophila is very much alive in the church today need to wake up. Chances dictate there are probabily good priests out there but when I see a man dressed in his holy robes WARNING lights flash in my head.
I don't know what the cure is but I know it is not silencing the victims or blaming them; no victim of sexual assault ever asked for what they got or deserved what they got. I also know that it is not the protection of priests by the Vatican from prosecution it's time to put these spineless beings in cages where they belong; and don't preach any of your "they can be cured" nonsense too me. The only man I ever heard of who could cure anybody was Jesus Christ and I doubt even a man of such forgiveness would offer a cure to someone who caused an innocent child to hate their own skin. I also know that pouring more money into the Catholic Church is not the cure either. No sheperd needs to live in a house with a ceiling made of gold while members of their flock make innocent children feel like sheep excrimint.
(I wrote this article because statistics show one in four individuals will suffer from sexual abuse in their lifetime; many of them will never have justice and will live and die feeling as though they deserved what happened to them. If your childhood, teenage years or adulthood was scarred by sexual abuse you do not have to suffer in silence. It's time to find your voice and to use it; it will not be easy but you do not have to do it alone anymore. Nobody is going to judge you, nobody is going to think any less of you what happened to you is not your fault and it is not who you are...you can overcome it the first step is acknowledging it...)
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Walk for Memories...
Let me just first start off by offering my apologies for being such an absent blogger-the Christmas season is always a busy time and with only having Christmas Day and New Years Eve off of work I was left with NO time for relaxing let alone blogging. However, here I am again with finally a full weekend off and time to once again BLOG!
On January 29, 2011 I will be participating in the Manulife Walk for Memories; a fundraising effort put on by the Alzheimer's Society of Toronto. All monies raised during this walk will go to providing counselling, education and information to individuals and families living with Alzheimer's and other dementias. This is the first year that I am participating in this walk and I am very excited about it. On that day I am going to be walking for every resident who I have ever had the pleasure of working with in various long term care facilities who have and still are suffering from these diseases. My current residents all of whom suffer from Alzheimer's Disease and dementia at various stages bring sunshine to my life five days a week and I am honored to get to do this for them. It is my pleasure to be able to see weekly people who suffer from these conditions still finding enjoyment in life. I am honored to get to assist them in living fully day to day. My residents assist me with doing dishes after food programs, watering plants on our patio during warmer months, folding laundry and sorting napkins, get up and dance with me during music programs, enjoy being pampered during nail care, pedicure, hand massage, foot massage and foot soaker programs. I get to see their faces light up when we organize flowers during flower sorting programs or when they spend time with pets during pet theraphy programs and I get to see them enjoy each others company during tea, hot chocolate etc...socials. They make me smile when they become competitive during bowling and ring toss programs. The best part of all of this is when they start to recognize me as someone they trust to assist them whenever they need it and to encourage them to be independent as often as possiable. When they are having bad days I am the girl that gets to show them that they still have worth and value in this life and when God calls them back home I get the privilege of staying with them and comforting them until it is time.
A more personal reason that I am excited about doing this walk is because I get to help fight a disease that took memories and life from my Grandad. I was a child when my Grandad was diagnosed with dementia and had to be placed in a long term care home for his own safety. I was petrified of going to visit him; he was so fragile and at times weak. I remember he used to cry at the fruasteration of what was happening to him because verbalizing it became harder for him as the disease progressed. He used to REFUSE all programming which makes me laugh now considering what I do for a living. I remember him hoarding rotten bananas in his bed side drawer and than trying to give them to us when we came to visit him. He also LOVED animals and got great enjoyment out of dogs when they were in the home and the few times we were able to bring our dogs to come and see him. He used to LOVE golfing and we would take him out to the backyard of the long term care facility he was in where they had a strip of green for practicing putts and such and he used to enjoy swinging his gold club and watching us do the same as he tried to give us instructions. Perhaps he thought either my sisters or I would turn out to be a professional golfer one day. SORRY NO SUCH LUCK THERE! He also used to fold up his walker and hid it behind the chair in his room insisting he was fine to walk on his own and he also insisted that the diabetes the doctors diagnosed him with in old age was nothing to worry about either! He was also forever flirting with the nurses and on one occassion tried to kiss a nurse. In fact when he was on his deathbed a nurse leaned over him to adjust him and his pillows so he would be more comfortable and he KISSED her cheek. A moment she probabily remembers to this day. My grandfather first taught me what my residents remind me off each day...that everybody is first and foremost a PERSON first and deserve to be treated this way!
On January 29, 2011 I will be walking for all of these reasons and so many more...
On January 29, 2011 I will be participating in the Manulife Walk for Memories; a fundraising effort put on by the Alzheimer's Society of Toronto. All monies raised during this walk will go to providing counselling, education and information to individuals and families living with Alzheimer's and other dementias. This is the first year that I am participating in this walk and I am very excited about it. On that day I am going to be walking for every resident who I have ever had the pleasure of working with in various long term care facilities who have and still are suffering from these diseases. My current residents all of whom suffer from Alzheimer's Disease and dementia at various stages bring sunshine to my life five days a week and I am honored to get to do this for them. It is my pleasure to be able to see weekly people who suffer from these conditions still finding enjoyment in life. I am honored to get to assist them in living fully day to day. My residents assist me with doing dishes after food programs, watering plants on our patio during warmer months, folding laundry and sorting napkins, get up and dance with me during music programs, enjoy being pampered during nail care, pedicure, hand massage, foot massage and foot soaker programs. I get to see their faces light up when we organize flowers during flower sorting programs or when they spend time with pets during pet theraphy programs and I get to see them enjoy each others company during tea, hot chocolate etc...socials. They make me smile when they become competitive during bowling and ring toss programs. The best part of all of this is when they start to recognize me as someone they trust to assist them whenever they need it and to encourage them to be independent as often as possiable. When they are having bad days I am the girl that gets to show them that they still have worth and value in this life and when God calls them back home I get the privilege of staying with them and comforting them until it is time.
A more personal reason that I am excited about doing this walk is because I get to help fight a disease that took memories and life from my Grandad. I was a child when my Grandad was diagnosed with dementia and had to be placed in a long term care home for his own safety. I was petrified of going to visit him; he was so fragile and at times weak. I remember he used to cry at the fruasteration of what was happening to him because verbalizing it became harder for him as the disease progressed. He used to REFUSE all programming which makes me laugh now considering what I do for a living. I remember him hoarding rotten bananas in his bed side drawer and than trying to give them to us when we came to visit him. He also LOVED animals and got great enjoyment out of dogs when they were in the home and the few times we were able to bring our dogs to come and see him. He used to LOVE golfing and we would take him out to the backyard of the long term care facility he was in where they had a strip of green for practicing putts and such and he used to enjoy swinging his gold club and watching us do the same as he tried to give us instructions. Perhaps he thought either my sisters or I would turn out to be a professional golfer one day. SORRY NO SUCH LUCK THERE! He also used to fold up his walker and hid it behind the chair in his room insisting he was fine to walk on his own and he also insisted that the diabetes the doctors diagnosed him with in old age was nothing to worry about either! He was also forever flirting with the nurses and on one occassion tried to kiss a nurse. In fact when he was on his deathbed a nurse leaned over him to adjust him and his pillows so he would be more comfortable and he KISSED her cheek. A moment she probabily remembers to this day. My grandfather first taught me what my residents remind me off each day...that everybody is first and foremost a PERSON first and deserve to be treated this way!
On January 29, 2011 I will be walking for all of these reasons and so many more...
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Reflections and such....
Five years ago this past May my much loved Mother lost a battle with Multiple Myeloma (in layman's terms "bone cancer"). This form of cancer she had sucked the life from her in a way compariable to how an undercurrent sucks an innocent swimmer under water. Her symptoms started in January of 2005 and by April she was a patient on the Oncology/Palliative Care Unit at Oshawa General Hospital. The cancer ravished her body making simple tasks very hard and uncomfortable. In her case death was a mercy because it was an escape from a body that had become a prison. During this time I became very philosophical pondering things such as "how could our bodies which sustain us on a day to day basis turn against us so suddenly?" and "what is death?" and "what is the next life after this like?". I tried to find answers anywhere and everywhere. I turned to the bible (copies are easy to find on a palliative care ward and throughout hospitals in general), I read books by Sylvia Brown (I believe in certain peoples abilities to commute with those who have crossed over into the next life) and I talked about what was happening to anybody who would listen. I wanted answers, I wanted hope, I wanted to know how do you say good bye (or as I preferred to call it...until we met again) to someone who you could not see your life without? As you can imagine those are not easy questions to answer and most of the time there are no right or wrong answers.
The theory I developed in regards to an afterlife during this time was that this Earth was hell (I mean I can make an arguement for that just by turning on both the local and international news...wars, famine, rape, shootings,fraud etc...) and that we worked our way out of that hell and that when God had seen that we had done this he allowed us to cross over into the next life. Spirtuality and the growth and development of one's soul is like any other development it changes over time. I am not sure my belief than is what I believe now but at the time it carried me through and that is what matters.
This past weekend I was informed that my Nana (my Mom's Mom) suffered a stroke; the good news from this is that she suffered it in a public place so help was recieved MUCH earlier than had she suffered it at home. Also it was a minor stroke on the grand scale of things so the long term effects were not as awful as they could have been. These two factors make me very thankful. I lived with my Nana for almost a year when I was 19-20 during my first year of college; she lived pretty close to the college I was attending. Her house also was a much quiet and calmer alternative to living at home. It was just her and I during the week and on weekends I would return home to Whitby to work as a cashier at Blockbuster video. I loved that time of my life. During the day I would attend my lectures and classes and in the evenings I would watch television with her. We enjoyed watching Law and Order, Medium and Dateline together. (When my Mom became really sick and her diagnosis was not a good one part of my philosphical thought process made me realize that the year I spent living with her helped form a relationship that would help carry me through the loss of my Mother. I only hope I was of a tiny bit of assistance to her in her grief). The plan was for me to return and live with her for my second year of college but my Mom passed away and things changed. I started renting an apartment in Whitby; it was better this way as we each had the space we needed to grieve the loss of someone who meant so very much to both of us. I still called her at least once a week sometimes twice a week and we would talk for usually an hour. When I graduated and took a job in Scarbrough that required me to work every third weekend she once again opened up her home for me on those weekends to make my battle with public transit and my commute less. I looked forward to those weekends as they mirrored my first year of college- I would attend work during the day and come home have dinner with her, help with the clean up and than we would watch television together. After almost a year of working at that job I took another job with a long term care home in Pickering this meant less of a commute but sadly brought an end to my every third weekend visit to my Nana. That year in her Christmas card she wrote "I miss our weekend visits but I am glad your new job makes you happy" (I missed our visits too Nana). When I decided to "move" to Australia she cried when I called her to tell her I bought my ticket. I know she like my Father worried about me when I was gone. I could not wait to call her when I returned...we had so much catching up to do and we did.Even though I have thanks that the stroke could have been a lot worse it saddens me to know that chances are she will never be the same but my love for her will always be.....I love you Nana xo
The theory I developed in regards to an afterlife during this time was that this Earth was hell (I mean I can make an arguement for that just by turning on both the local and international news...wars, famine, rape, shootings,fraud etc...) and that we worked our way out of that hell and that when God had seen that we had done this he allowed us to cross over into the next life. Spirtuality and the growth and development of one's soul is like any other development it changes over time. I am not sure my belief than is what I believe now but at the time it carried me through and that is what matters.
This past weekend I was informed that my Nana (my Mom's Mom) suffered a stroke; the good news from this is that she suffered it in a public place so help was recieved MUCH earlier than had she suffered it at home. Also it was a minor stroke on the grand scale of things so the long term effects were not as awful as they could have been. These two factors make me very thankful. I lived with my Nana for almost a year when I was 19-20 during my first year of college; she lived pretty close to the college I was attending. Her house also was a much quiet and calmer alternative to living at home. It was just her and I during the week and on weekends I would return home to Whitby to work as a cashier at Blockbuster video. I loved that time of my life. During the day I would attend my lectures and classes and in the evenings I would watch television with her. We enjoyed watching Law and Order, Medium and Dateline together. (When my Mom became really sick and her diagnosis was not a good one part of my philosphical thought process made me realize that the year I spent living with her helped form a relationship that would help carry me through the loss of my Mother. I only hope I was of a tiny bit of assistance to her in her grief). The plan was for me to return and live with her for my second year of college but my Mom passed away and things changed. I started renting an apartment in Whitby; it was better this way as we each had the space we needed to grieve the loss of someone who meant so very much to both of us. I still called her at least once a week sometimes twice a week and we would talk for usually an hour. When I graduated and took a job in Scarbrough that required me to work every third weekend she once again opened up her home for me on those weekends to make my battle with public transit and my commute less. I looked forward to those weekends as they mirrored my first year of college- I would attend work during the day and come home have dinner with her, help with the clean up and than we would watch television together. After almost a year of working at that job I took another job with a long term care home in Pickering this meant less of a commute but sadly brought an end to my every third weekend visit to my Nana. That year in her Christmas card she wrote "I miss our weekend visits but I am glad your new job makes you happy" (I missed our visits too Nana). When I decided to "move" to Australia she cried when I called her to tell her I bought my ticket. I know she like my Father worried about me when I was gone. I could not wait to call her when I returned...we had so much catching up to do and we did.Even though I have thanks that the stroke could have been a lot worse it saddens me to know that chances are she will never be the same but my love for her will always be.....I love you Nana xo
Friday, December 3, 2010
Say What You Need to Say...
The ability to "tell it like it is" was not something I was born with; some people come into this World with the type of personality that allows them to be strong minded, opinionated and they do not take "crap" from anybody. For me this ability was something I had to learn. For those of you who knew me when I was a young child (particularly anyone from elementary school who may be reading this) you would remember me as a push over; someone who often did things they may not have liked to make others happy. As a child I was forever trying to keep the peace and please people.
Perhaps it was the divorce of my parents when I was ten or the death of my much beloved Mother a decade later that assisted me with "growing balls" (forgive the lewdness of that one). I believe it was a combination of a number of things with those two mixed in that forced me out of my shell and too stand up for myself. I believe you can only allow yourself to take so many knocks from people and life in general before you realize if you do not stand up for yourself and express your opinions you can and will get walked on and true happiness will forever elude you. I do not believe in being aggressive but will be assertive when necessary. I get no pleasure from starting arguments and therefore do not but will not back down when someone is pushing my buttons. In day to day life I have been assertive since I was (hmmmmmmm...) let's say twenty and moved out on my own for the first time. I quickly learned that sometimes you had to be assertive with utilities people especially when if you were not they would rip you off in a second. I also learned than when you go to the bank you must know what you want and not deveate from that as bankers have quotas and sales goals to met also. I was also taught that being assertive was sometimes required with your landlord otherwise you wait many months for windows to be repaired and nothing is fun about the tempature in your flat being the same as the temperature outside especially in the middle of winter.
It was about a year or so later when I realized the importance of being assertive in the workforce (especially when you work in the Activation department in long term care). I learned that on a day to day basis you must know what you wish to accomplish and not let co-workers (particularly those from the nursing department) distract you by throwing at you every resident who is causing them problems with the claim that "more programming" is the solution. I have no problem lending a hand in calming an aggitated elderly client but I am not an overpaid babysitter and will not be treated like one (thanks very much).
It was not until very recently in my life that I learned the importance of being assertive (NOT high maintaine or "b*tchy" but just assertive) in relationships with members of the opposite sex. I had the unfortunate experience of being taken for granted and advantage of by an ex with whom I dated for eight months before waking up and realizing what was happening. I was intoxicated with all the magical feelings of "love" (or lust) at the beginning and naturally at the beginning everything was perfect. However, soon his cell phone was "turned off" and he did not answer and he was only avaliable certain days etc.. (yeah like I said it took me awhile to figure it out) He would always blame these occurances on complications he was having in his personal life (mainly a court battle he was having with the Mother of his son) and I felt sorry for him..AT FIRST. At first when his games begain I was understanding as I wanted to be supportive (after all you are supposed to be supportive..right?...). I would feel anger boil up inside of me and have a million not so nice things prepared to say to him and than I would "chicken out" and pretend like everything was perfect. Finally, I reached my breaking point and having had enough dicovered my inner assertiveness and let it reign. It was probabily the most liberated I had felt the whole relationship the day I ended it with him and told myself "no more crap for you". This is the mantra I currently live by while I venture into the dating world. Hence it was only natural for me when I was stood up this evening by the "wonderful" guy I had gone on a date with last Saturday evening (described in the previous blog) for me to call and leave a message saying exactly what I thought. It hurts to be stood up but I do not suffer fools or their games easily so to him I say good riddance there will be better as I believe now I certaintly deserve it.
Maybe I will find my Prince Charming and maybe I will spend the rest of my life alone while that remains to be seen, the one thing I know for a fact; I will not be treated badly either way!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
"You are Much Prettier In Person" (also known as Date Number Five)
So last evening was Saturday evening (unless you are reading this from Australia and than it was Sunday morning...but for the sake of this post you will have to imagine it was Saturday night) and yours truly had a date. Yes, it was with another guy from the dating site I am using (if you were my sister you would insert eye roll here as she did yesterday afternoon when she came over and I told her about my than impending date).
SIDE NOTE: My sister believes the internet dating site I am using is not the best one she would like me to use another one. However, the one she wants me to use has a monthly user fee and call me cheap although I prefer frugal but I WILL NOT PAY TO INTERNET DATE. I believe finding a potential life mate of the opposite gender online for FREE is the way to go. This way when and if the date is bad I can always say "at least I did not pay anyone to find me this idiot" whereas if I used a site with a monthly user fee a bad date would make my the Scottish portion of the blood in my veins boil with rage.
We arranged to met at six o'clock and he planned to take me to a bar and lounge (in my mind things were already looking better than my last date ...Saw 3D people..than again pretty much anything so long as it did not involve serial killers ripping flesh of off kidnapped, drugged unsuspecting people would have been a good time..therefore you can imagine my elation at hearing bar and lounge). I should also mention at this point he has a very sexy accent...he was raised in Albania but spent six years in Greece before moving to Canada. On the phone his accent sounded French (and not the craptastic Quebecois accent; no like a genuine French accent from Paris). So even before we met for the date I liked him already as he plans to take me to a real date location and he has a sextacular accent. Therefore I primed and preened myself like a cat (I believe in good hygiene on a daily basis for the record). I liked him even more once I laid eyes on him and he was not hard to look at in my opinion. Instead of going to the bar and lounge we switched plans once he informed me that the bar and lounge he was taking me too was fine for drinks but his friend who used to work in the kitchen there told him some things and he does not eat their food anymore. *FREEZE....ummmmm...Caitlin needs food before booze* and she prefers food not from a kitchen of nightmares. I almost wanted to marry him when he offered to take me to a sushi place to grab a bit to eat before going for drinks...ARE YOU KIDDING ME..I love sushi and the more this guy opened his mouth the more I was liking him. The sushi was divine and our conversation was wonderful as well. After supper was done and the waitress gently encouraged us to leave as the line up of hungry eyed folk waiting for a table was growing out the door he offered to take me for a drink. I took him up on his offer and accross the street we went to a nice warm little pub which happened to be decorated for Christmas already. It was a very relaxed atmosphere full of people just happy to be with friends and family and that it was Saturday night. It was my kind of place and in this kind of place the conversation between us continued on. We talked about everything (although the other half of my blood is Irish so I have a gift for being able to have conversations on just about every topic or so I have been told..actually to0 quote one of my former high school teachers "that girl could talk the hind legs off of a donkey"...although I would like to state I do not believe in violating donkeys or any other animals by taking away their limbs). So the one drink he invited me for turned into two before we left the little pub and he drove me home. When he dropped me off he told me he would like to see me again and I agreed with no reluctance. So, here is hoping that this guy calls me again but more importantly if he does call me again that he is as nice as he seemed last night. I am determined there are nice decent men out there and I have no intentions of settling for being treated like crap (again).
SIDE NOTE: My sister believes the internet dating site I am using is not the best one she would like me to use another one. However, the one she wants me to use has a monthly user fee and call me cheap although I prefer frugal but I WILL NOT PAY TO INTERNET DATE. I believe finding a potential life mate of the opposite gender online for FREE is the way to go. This way when and if the date is bad I can always say "at least I did not pay anyone to find me this idiot" whereas if I used a site with a monthly user fee a bad date would make my the Scottish portion of the blood in my veins boil with rage.
We arranged to met at six o'clock and he planned to take me to a bar and lounge (in my mind things were already looking better than my last date ...Saw 3D people..than again pretty much anything so long as it did not involve serial killers ripping flesh of off kidnapped, drugged unsuspecting people would have been a good time..therefore you can imagine my elation at hearing bar and lounge). I should also mention at this point he has a very sexy accent...he was raised in Albania but spent six years in Greece before moving to Canada. On the phone his accent sounded French (and not the craptastic Quebecois accent; no like a genuine French accent from Paris). So even before we met for the date I liked him already as he plans to take me to a real date location and he has a sextacular accent. Therefore I primed and preened myself like a cat (I believe in good hygiene on a daily basis for the record). I liked him even more once I laid eyes on him and he was not hard to look at in my opinion. Instead of going to the bar and lounge we switched plans once he informed me that the bar and lounge he was taking me too was fine for drinks but his friend who used to work in the kitchen there told him some things and he does not eat their food anymore. *FREEZE....ummmmm...Caitlin needs food before booze* and she prefers food not from a kitchen of nightmares. I almost wanted to marry him when he offered to take me to a sushi place to grab a bit to eat before going for drinks...ARE YOU KIDDING ME..I love sushi and the more this guy opened his mouth the more I was liking him. The sushi was divine and our conversation was wonderful as well. After supper was done and the waitress gently encouraged us to leave as the line up of hungry eyed folk waiting for a table was growing out the door he offered to take me for a drink. I took him up on his offer and accross the street we went to a nice warm little pub which happened to be decorated for Christmas already. It was a very relaxed atmosphere full of people just happy to be with friends and family and that it was Saturday night. It was my kind of place and in this kind of place the conversation between us continued on. We talked about everything (although the other half of my blood is Irish so I have a gift for being able to have conversations on just about every topic or so I have been told..actually to0 quote one of my former high school teachers "that girl could talk the hind legs off of a donkey"...although I would like to state I do not believe in violating donkeys or any other animals by taking away their limbs). So the one drink he invited me for turned into two before we left the little pub and he drove me home. When he dropped me off he told me he would like to see me again and I agreed with no reluctance. So, here is hoping that this guy calls me again but more importantly if he does call me again that he is as nice as he seemed last night. I am determined there are nice decent men out there and I have no intentions of settling for being treated like crap (again).
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