Don’t Take Shit From People

So I’m laying here tonight trying to relax after the week from hell. (Impending eviction)

Fumbling through my old Facebook photos, you know how that goes. you start nosing in on people you’ve lost touch with over the years to see what they’re up to. Tonight, mine led me to a face that I haven’t seen in over 9 years. My mother.

For the past couple of years, I’ve missed her. I’ve missed having a mom I could call up and ask for advice from. I’ve missed having a mom that would be there for me when I needed her. Most recently, I’ve needed my mother to deal with this illness. whatever it is is. Fibromyalgia, ME/CFS, something neurological. I really don’t know what the fuck is going on inside my body. I know I’m in early onset menopause, I know I have pretty severe osteoarthritis as it’s throughout my body and leaves me pretty crippled in the damp and humid weather. I know I have something seriously wrong with my spine and am waiting to see a specialist about it. I know I have PTSD.

I’ve also needed my mom to deal with my father. His in and out presence in my life. His oblivion to my pain. His inability to recognize how seriously he has damaged me.

Then I browsed through some more photos. Saw her and my stepfather got another dog. Got a new motorhome I see. It baffles me how my parents were unable to attend my wedding years ago (I’m divorced now, thankfully and am with the right person, finally) but are apparently able to travel in a camper. You couldn’t even send me a card when I got married.

I remembered how my mother was never there for me. When I called she couldn’t be bothered to take the time to talk to me on the phone. Her TV shows were more important. No matter if I was in a jam and needed help, or just really needed to hear her voice when I was down or needed life advice.

I had no one to go to for life advice.

I look at my stepfather’s smug face in his profile picture and remember how he always looked at me with contempt. Like I was gross. Some kind of fucking slimy garden slug. A garden slug with a bad smell. Yeah, that’s how I would describe it. Oddly enough, it’s the same way my stepmother always looked at me.

I feel like I’ve gone through tremendous mental growth over the past few years. I’ve terminated friendships that were not healthy, balanced or kind. I don’t need that. I’ve ended associations with people because I don’t share their views or ideas. I have different values, I have strong morals. something that seems to be lacking in this world.

Funny thing is, I didn’t get these morals or values from anyone in my family. Not my mother, not my father, and most certainly, not my step parents. I have absolutely nothing in common with my stepbrothers. For the most part, they’re egotistical, selfish, immature, and well… they’re kind of jerks. Who needs that? Nope.

I developed my own code as I grew up. As I made mistakes or failed, I learned lessons the hard way, on my own. Some values I received from my grandmothers. My paternal grandmother was a woman of faith who taught me about Jesus and the Bible at a very young age. I loved it. I found the time we spent reading the Bible together, I read it out loud to her because the printing was too small for her eyes, to be peaceful and reassuring. My maternal grandmother taught me about strength and perseverance. She taught me how to cook. Both grandmothers taught me to stand up for myself and, in their words, “don’t take shit from people.” They were sassy ladies. I probably get my sassiness from them as well.

No. Looking at my mother tonight brought me to a conclusion. A closure even. I don’t know this person, and she doesn’t know me. She’s never been that kind of mom you could call when you needed her. She’s never been that kind of mom that puts her (only) child(ren) first. She’s always been more concerned about her own needs, her own wants. It was proposed to me that perhaps my stepfather is too controlling. Well, yeah. he is controlling, sometimes an outright asshole but, I also know this. What my mother wants, my mother gets. My stepfather has always been a “Yes Dear” man. He’s not entirely to blame. My mother had a choice, and she chose to pretend I don’t exist. In the photo of my mother’s most recent lap dog, she’s a better dog mom than actual mom, I zoomed in on the shelf behind her. There were pictures of stepbrother one and his woman, next to it was a photo of stepbrother two and his wife. There were no other photos on that shelf. No, I’m sorry, their past dead dogs’ photos were there. But that was it. I didn’t make the shelf display cut. I simply don’t exist.

Last year, this would have sent me spiralling down the depression hole quicker than a squirrel up a tree with a cat after it. But tonight something in me clicked. I’m done grieving my father and my mother. It took some time, but I think I’m done. They’ve sucked up enough of my time and energy. No more.

I cut these ties.

I am just going to focus on building what I have with the love of my life. I’m going to enjoy some happiness for a change. As my paternal grandmother would have said, “Fuck ’em.” So sassy.

I feel remarkably stronger and lighter. My love is intact, my faith is stronger than ever. That’s all I need. We have overcome worse things in our lives, we’ll overcome this too.

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

S.

Step Out & Step Up

..can’t sleep

Well, hello old friends.  It’s been a while since I’ve logged in and touched base.  I have been working harder than I have in years, hence my absence.  Between the radio show I host with my partner 5 days a week, I have also added a Saturday radio show to the roster that I host alone.  I’m broadcasting 6 days a week.

“C” has begun a new job in another city.  We will be leaving Saint John New Brunswick.  I am currently staying in Halifax, Nova Scotia- where I’m from.  The city has changed a lot in the three years I was gone.  Some areas I barely recognize due to gentrification.  Thanks Hipsters for driving up rental costs in the city.  Much appreciated.  I have some questions though.  How many micro breweries does one city need?  What’s the big deal with craft beer and Hipsters anyway?  Why the man-bun?  I’m just gonna say it… Craft beer= glass of farts.  There I said it.  You’re all thinking it but I said it.  “C” and I are frantically searching for a suitable rental.  I say frantically because ALL the apartments have been taken by students.  Damn university town.  Guess we know who’s really drinking all that extra gassy craft beer.

On another front, I have somewhat kicked up my medical cannabis activism game.  I’m a newbie; no where near as experienced as many of my peers, but I see injustice.  I hate injustice.  I see people suffering with a plethora of illness ranging from chronic to terminal flailing around a medical system hell bent on prescribing this and that only to manage symptoms, never addressing the cause.  Pharmaceutical tyranny I call it.  I see a void in our current system and I feel like I have just as good of a voice as anyone else.  I have partaken in a video that’s going viral, standing with other patients addressing how invaluable dispensaries are to us.  I have also given an interview with a local paper- it just came out today.  Change doesn’t happen without fight; without discord.  I am stepping out of my comfort zone and stepping up.  I think more of us need to do this in our everyday lives.  Step out, step up.  A little tip?  We won’t die nor break as a result of stepping out of our comfort zones.  As a society, we have become complacent much to our detriment.  We allow ourselves to be distracted by things that don’t affect us, don’t matter or don’t serve us, and when it’s suggested we put forth an effort, suddenly, many people simply “don’t have the time”.  It’s true that there are many demanding professions and careers out there, but let’s be honest; you have time, you just couldn’t be bothered and you’re not a cardiovascular surgeon.

“Leave it for someone else”

“So and So will take care of it”

“Surely the government will step in”

No.  These are incorrect statements, and they stink of naivete.

Your government doesn’t care about you.  You know why?  Because democracy is a misconstrued notion.  It’s a dead sentiment.  Countries are run by corporations.  Money and lobby groups dictate policy and laws.  The FDA?  A laughable organization.  It’s about who can contribute how many dollars.  It’s bullshit studies done by the very same drug companies trying to patent their poisons medicines.  “Surely there are drug trials and tests” you might retort.  Yeah there are.  Two.  Two tests.  Often performed by the drug companies’ own teams.  That’s not biased at all.  You know what else happens in government?  Nepotism.  Look at how many Trumps are fucking up running the White House.  Here in  Halifax, Nova Scotia, the city police chief is our Premiere’s brother.  You can’t make this shit up folks.

Two days ago, my best friend’s dispensary was robbed in broad daylight by police raided.  A lot of people are left without medication now and two people who volunteer their time to help other patients, one- a single mother of three- are now facing charges and court appearances.  Is this necessary?  Is this fair?  This friend  has given me medication at no cost many times so that I am not sick, so that I can function at a reasonable level and enjoy a reasonable quality of life.  (It’s not illegal to give or trade cannabis among patients- just an FYI) Do you know how grateful I am?  This friend has given medication and has offered a compassionate ear to virtually anyone truly in need.  There are thousands of patients that rely on Higher Living Wellness Centre.  Thousands of people have been made to feel safe, welcome, listened to, and many have developed life long friendships, and enjoy a peaceful sense of community with other like minded individuals.  We harm no one.  We bother no one.  We have medical prescriptions for cannabis.  No one is served without a prescription and ID.  The patients they serve range in ages all over the board and the cases range from things like cancer, MS, Parkinson’s, to Fibromyalgia, to rheumatoid arthritis, to PTSD and other painful life altering conditions.  Conditions that many doctors simply give up on.  It becomes a game of “let’s try this” “let’s increase that” ” I heard good things about this drug”  Doctors are in the game of symptom management.  Although here in Canada, doctors can’t accept “kickbacks” they CAN accept training in places like the Bahamas for 2 weeks or a nice golfing vacation.  Doctors are still bought here in Canada, they just accept a different currency.

For many of us, we have come to rely on communities like this.  Let’s not forget, the fast approaching legalization debacle was built on the backs of compassion clubs and dispensaries just like Higher Living Wellness.  It’s infuriating to me that the people with all the knowledge, the care and understanding of this plant; this GOD GIVEN plant are being locked out of an entire industry.  It’s infuriating to me that the government thinks it’s OK for a stage 4 breast cancer patient to get in line at the liquor store behind two twenty year olds looking to enhance their bar game that night.  It’s infuriating to me to tell someone dying of cancer that he has to log in on a computer with a credit card to a faceless entity for his legal medicine?  There’s no one you can ACTUALLY speak with when dealing with LPs.  It’s all email.  There no recommendations, there’s no teaching moments between an LP and a patient.  This is access for sick people??  Are you joking?  This must be a joke.  No one really treats the ill like this do they?  They do in Canada.  They do in Halifax Nova Scotia.  The Nova Scotia government doesn’t care about us, they don’t care about you.  I have already lost faith in doctors, I have since lost faith in my government, I have now lost faith in the police.  It’s become clear to us that we are nothing in their eyes.

We can’t have that.  I can’t have that.  I cannot foresee a future where all my rights have been stripped and I am forced to live a bed bound isolated life again and not have at the very least TRIED to fight back.

I have always been a fighter, I will always be a fighter.

Maybe cannabis is not your fight, that’s fine.  But I bet there’s something you need to be fighting for.  Don’t let your hesitation fester in to a life long regret.  Don’t be caught off guard and steamrolled; governments are notorious for silently removing rights while you’re playing Candy Crush or taking the latest Facebook quiz.  Take action.  There is SO MUCH wrong in this world right now, pick your battle and fight for it.  Fight with everything you have.

Step out, step up.

HLWC shirt

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,

Sam

Shopping, CFS and Channeling Little Edie

Having a moment of being more awake than asleep, I thought I’d pop on to WordPress to write a little blurb since I’ve been absent more than I’d like as of late.  The last post I wrote was a week ago, Substitute Gifts & Crying 8 Year Olds .  Chronic Fatigue is a bitch and my wrist/hand is still giving me the gears.

I went shopping the other day with my good friend Ocean Hayward from OHWords trying to find winter apparel for a reasonable price.  Lord I hate shopping but Ocean is really good at finding deals and thanks to her patience and determination, I was able to find both boots AND a jacket for less than $100.  Now I won’t freeze my arse off when I take my dog out for her pees, and I won’t teeter on the ice, ultimately falling with my grippy new waterproof boots.

I fell on the ice last year and it was both painful and embarrassing.  You know you’re getting old when you fall in public.  When you’re young and fall, people will often laugh and snicker at your misfortune but no harm no foul.  As you age, falling makes people gasp and rush to your side “OMG, are you OK?!”  like I’m in danger of breaking a hip now, which of course I am but that’s neither here nor there.

So I am winter ready now.

On our excursion, we came across this great little Thrift store, I found a couple of coats that I would love to have just for the hell of it.  One was this long black suede coat that made me feel like Stevie Nicks, the other coat I coveted was this old fur that reminds me of Little Edie from Grey Gardens.  (I’m obsessed with that documentary and Little Edie) I had to try it on.

Channeling Little Edie

If I had $60 to blow on nothing, I would have bought it.  I really want to dress up as Little Edie for a Halloween.  The other black coat, I would have just wore, but it wasn’t quite warm enough to justify buying it.

The only drawback is that shopping for a couple of hours and walking around, trying on boots and such in 9 different stores completely wiped me out.  Within an hour of getting home, I was virtually immobile.  Muscle spasms and extreme fatigue has kept me couch and bed bound the last 2 days.  Why do I have to pay so harshly for every bit of activity I partake in?  It’s frustrating.

When the fatigue is pumped up, I can’t write as I can’t focus.  I avoid social media because I find it overwhelming.  It’s like walking into a room where hundreds of people are all talking at once.  I just want peace and quiet.

I have neglected my household chores the past 2 days so I have a pile of laundry to do, all I really want to do is crawl back in to bed and binge watch Doctor Who.

How do you handle Chronic Fatigue/Chronic Pain? 

Are you a Social Media “avoider” as well?

I always love reading your comments.  Subscribe to my mailing list and follow me on Twitter @LezGeek

Live Humbly, be Charitable, Live Graciously,

Sam

 

Another Fu**ing Poem: ME/CFS

fucking tired

Fuck this chilly weather change

Making me feel tired and strange

All I want is to sleep and sleep

Making me mad, making me weep

Throbbing head and swollen body

A bigger bitch I couldn’t embody

Trying to hear what you’re saying

I think “Hello” is what you’re conveying

My head’s all muddled in shades of gray

Repeating my words, my brain’s on replay

I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said

All I’m really thinking about is my bed

Shuffling and grunting like some old hag

Cursing and swearing at my Magic Bag

Why you so small Magic Bag?  You can go to Hell

I need you on my back, my hips and buns as well

In a rage, I plug in my heating pad

The time it takes to heat also makes me mad

Laying on my back, missing the warmth of summer

The period leading in to winter is a fucking bummer

Staying in due to cold means a belly and bigger ass cheeks

While I dream of sunshine, eating chips for the next 28 weeks

“At least you get to sleep in everyday” say the mindless few

You have no clue, the pain, the tears, the guilt I go through

So back to my fleece, hot bath and couch I go

I’m fucking tired and my back hurts me so

Because why I came I fucking forgot

Oh yeah, to tell others to not be a fucking Twat

If you know someone with Fibro, MECFS

Someone that you regularly address

Be compassionate, gentle and most of all kind

Because they are suffering; bear that in mind

 

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously

Sam

If you enjoyed this, you might like this 

Images

I’m so fucking tired kitty   https://cdn-webimages.wimages.net/05197f03e21089241289b6b115c808dadf2f0b-wm.jpg?v=3

CFS: A Poem

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome
A whole new night of still no sleep

Nothing works, not even counting sheep.

I’m somewhere between asleep and awake

Another night of this pain I cannot take.

When I do drift off I’m plagued by dreams

Violent and bloody I wake up in screams.

It’s tossing and turning all night long

Thinking of all the things that I’ve done wrong.

Ideas for writing projects visit me far too late

I get up out of bed so I don’t disturb my mate.

Questioning myself whether I locked the door

Thinking of tomorrow’s shopping trip to the store

Worrying about money, food and bills

Wishing I could afford those sleeping pills.

Knowing I’ll suffer from this sleep lost

Going thru days in pain is often the cost. 

Sometimes when I pray I ask why I’m such  a mess

The answer I get is my dear, you have CFS.

Live Humbly,  Be Charitable,  Live Graciously, 

Sam
Image

http://www.insomnia.net/images/chronic-insomnia.jpg