Silver Lining


A headache
Pounding in space
Navigating a lost future
Walked upon the barbed wire fence
In hopes of the silver lining
Lifted each foot carefully deviating the other from the next potential fall
How did we get here
Rabid bits of time
Paranoia is alive and well
Smoke curdles in the wind
Softly running away in the skies
Shoes worn from the aimless wander
Erratic heart, hopeless devotion
How did I get here
In the tire and the illuminating glow of the night
Fine I will fall, but only for tonight


In the Light of Moon Lake


Oh depression you caught up,
Cloaked in your own special way snug in the fast paced days of July,
The rain distorted my broken thoughts,
Allured by the dark sky and the surrounding trees by Moon Lake and all its beauty
My sleeping partner cannot breach my sad state of mind
Depression,  you silently caught up like an oncoming cold in the past couple weeks
Epiphanies came rolling in like clouds in the lapse of the night
Suppressed memories exhumed themselves in the quiet of the hollow tent
Intrusive emotions ravaged soft moments,
Inhibiting the truest of feelings and words that could have been shared
Instead anger took over
And words came out stuttered, stifled, or sometimes nothing could be said at all
Premonition has lingered
And now to deal with the new responsibilities
Cigarettes roused my lost touch of creativity while slowly smoldering my healthy lungs
When the dawn had come I awoke to feeling in a self-deprecated state,
The day sped by fast in the deep depths of dark thinking
That moon, how it arose too soon
The long hours of self-hatred had ran its course
A reminder that the day was over, and night had come for its shift
And I was to sleep, arise with strength in hopes for a fresh sense of mind
Diving into this pit of nothingness to a place of lost finds

Dissonance and Low Tide


It took hold,
Fast and furious
Vintage cars,
Pink, purple, blue, and red
Ripped down the road
You stood further in proximity
This body a sad case of lost curiosity
And the Caribbean wind whipped away at my fragile state
The voices hollered, drums drummed, the chimes rung through the narrow streets
The dogs they weaselled through the slow paced legs
And the clouded moonlit sky deceived my sudden dread
Voiced my dreams and let them float away
Adrift with the dying hope of reciprocity
I watched my I love you never come back to me
Hands aimlessly grasping for the reluctant grip and those space eyes to take me in
They tend to be incompatible with your mind drifting somewhere in time
Solemn for the journey, in for the trip,
Unrequited confessions lay flat on the Malecon
To be shattered by the waves that crash with the low tide


Bell Let’s Talk



Know that everyday you are not alone. 1 in 5 Canadians if not more experience mental illness in our lifetime including myself. The conversation, may it never end, let’s keep the dialogue ongoing and open. Although Bell may be operating on potentially a double standard, it is truly amazing how many people I have seen sharing their personal stories & know that there is support and ears that are open to listening. There is no health without mental health so I thought I would share a snippet from my walk last week on the river. Practicing self care is important not just looking for what will raise our self esteem but also how we can practice compassion towards ourselves.


Since I am not brave enough to share with my main go to’s of social media I thought I would share this very personal piece on this blog. The following was written a couple of years ago I was slipping in and out of depression and struggling with bulimia. In 2012 I sunk to a low pit attempted suicide. Not long after the attempt, I was diagnosed with Bulimia, 2013 I did 6 months of therapy, in 2014 I was sought counselling for CPTSD (Complex post traumatic stress disorder). For 6 years I actively had an eating disorder and harmed myself in anyway I could except mutilation. Often people assumed I was too happy, high functioning, normal sized to struggle with mental illness. It was often invisible unless it was someone who had lived with me. It was not until around the end of 2015 where I began to seriously overcome it I like to think now I have recovered, built a strong foundation, and have acquired the right life tools. But then again life is a journey , I slip up from time to time, and I can’t do anything more than expect the unexpected and live day by day.

Anyways, here it is:


Ballerina Tea Bags and Self Loathing 

My eyes open at face of dawn, the sun pushes its way through my blindness windowsill. I lay stagnant as my mind processes the day ahead and the wind brushes against my naked body. The blankets leave imprints upon my skin, the proof of a long slumber, My eyes scan my cluttered surroundings, I then look below to see my face, the tip of my nose, following my large breasts, flabby belly, hip bones, furry pubic bone all radiating heat. It was as if all the warmth had left my heart to console my body in my already warm room.

Before I sit myself up a plan has already been made, half already set out with work the rest left to my insecurities. The free time ahead brings a pending anxiety because I know as soon as I get up the mirror awaits me. I look at the mirror, and it tells me the answer. The same answer it is every time, that the world awaits, and I am not worthy of it. So my body falls to a made up string of false impulses, and my mind can’t help but to follow. A set of invisible challenges, falling to hours of self-destruction, time passes and the only clarity I get is the inevitable self-hate and the reminder that I picked it over my friends, I picked it over a nice cup of coffee, I picked it out of being productive, I picked it over my family. My eyes tear, fighting, falling, crying an invisible struggle.

Mindful stability alone has become a myth, a fallacy ruled by inconsistency.  Years of the same old self convictions of being unlovable, intangible, too much to handle, another troubled soul.  As result, I’ve created an iron cage of my own sickness inhaling the red dust, delirious from the thought of my own sadness and loneliness. As time passes, I will grow too large for this cage, and will inevitable sink in the soil, like an elephant in quicksand.

The line between yearning to be alone, has faded into my own bottomless pit of social anxiety, isolated by my own thoughts. The pacing within this head is tiresome, weak from the knee down, bruised from the waist up, disintegrating from within.

The ebs and flows of these tidal waves have become erosive, rolling away with fragments flaking away with each tide. Scattered reflections of a depressed self is seen by the way the clothes lay across my floor, a cupboard, a fridge of food half empty, and a toilet bowl full. A pile of empty laxative bottles, and over used three ballerina extra strength tea bags in the trash. Leftover remnants of a sexual escapade, or a computer filled with erogenous triggers. The only source of comfort received is the concrete that meets my feet and my arms that have the potential to wrap around my body. Hugs are painful a reminder to keep running shoes near in fear of another quick leaving soul to come and go through this broken door.  My dreams keep this soul alive, awaiting sleep to awaken to a hope that maybe one one day the sun shine and bring my body and mind back to life. That one day I will heal and truly learn to love me.

Blood and Energy


When love arises my hands oh they give it all away,
Blood and energy
And for nothing in return
My friends they tell me it was never earned
Yet I feel like I am unworthy of it all
For I am in debt for having a reflection, for being alive
For I am a burden to you and me

So this is a goodbye.

A soulful abandonment where I learn how to fully love me
And understand reciprocity
It should be in the way you breathe,
Input and output
But I only know how to hold my breath
and hope for the light at best,
Because we know it would be best,
If I just left

December Ambivalence


My fingers stretch for hope
Exhausted, my eyes retire, telling me it’s time to go to bed
I can’t remember what I was waiting for
For the moon to peak through the sky,
Or the sun to rise

Craving human touch, a warm embrace

And I ask myself why you are still here?
A sad case of somber in the middle of December
Dry skin and a wet face
I feel undeserving of it all
Yet this broken heart loves furiously selflessly falls into a world of uncertainty
Unworthy of the thought that you might just stick around

So I wait for you to leave me
So I can slip back into a reclusive state
Where my arms feel alien and my body is again many times over inconsolable
Back to the days chasing fading affection
When feeling numb was the goal pursuit

And now I wake up to another day
For today I will digress from the potential goodbye,
to take a break and wait to see what path we will take


10 Years Gone

Childhood photos


10 years you were ripped away, swallowed by the yolk of the sun. I dreaded living without you and all the things you would have missed.Now I sit here in middle of December in my apartment bewildered by the thought that 10 years have already gone by.

Dad, you have been away all this time. The first 5 years they were so harsh. I remember my first stable job and my unstable manager telling me it takes 5 years to move on after losing a parent. The truth is that we as children just learn how to live with your absence, moving on seems to be some kind of vision beyond comprehension. The memories never really go away even if it is blurred from time to time, but you reappear in our minds like some kind of eternal subscription.

When looking back, it was strange how loosing you was just the beginning. My life had become a revolving door, watching people come, go, walk all over me, and die as they please. It was so frequent and even now I struggle to believe that someone will be here to stay. Life is quick, cruel, and beautiful. I never knew my heart would break over and over again and I would survive it with all the trouble that ensued. Your death revealed your past, someone I never really knew and all I could remember was being Daddy’s girl the father you once were, the only you I have ever known.

The frayed strings presented themselves as the days furthered themselves, and then it became years. Time never stops but the people they drop, like you. There was so much I wanted to know. When you left this earth, I thought to myself how you would never see me get my first job, graduate, fall in love, fall out of love, get married, or have children. I would never be able to confide in you if ever I was to have a crisis, everything I do would be missing your perspective. Life without you meant that every milestone would be carried on even with your absence.

After you passed I believed you were somewhere in the sky and when you died, my mother in all her own chaos took on the reigns, with her hand, a cord, and smashing of plates. A woman once told me you had left the world for a reason, to teach me a lesson. I wondered what she had meant, was it resilience, forgiveness, acceptance, or the carrying of abilities my father never had. Over the years, I have learned how to forgive my mother and my brother for all that they have done. With being raised by my mother you raided my conscience often pondering what you might have said. I wonder if you are proud of me or frowning from the sky.

Yet 10 years later, when I look back at the time we shared, I am lucky to have had a Dad like you. The silliness and the eccentricity you possessed, the adventures you took us on, the long drives on the daily. You were gentle when Mother was crazy, you brought ease and listened to me when no one else would. The stories you told about your life in Los Angeles, Toronto, Thompson, Japan, and the rest of the world. The endless stories you would tell of the wildlife and the creatures that emerged from the bushes. You took us on rides far from home and told stories of your strolls through Garbage Dump Hill

. You got us lost and stuck in ditches, taught us how to find rocks, love a bike and when things got sad humor was lurking waiting to flicker from our tongues. It runs in the family I guess. The thirteen years we shared and the life lessons you taught me along the way. Now you are in the clouds and there to stay, but they say you live in me, and believe me, I think you do. Goodbye Dad happy 10 year deathiversary this was a tribute to you.


Hecla Manitoba


A dead quiet lapse of time,
laying low
Apathetic and corrosive
My bed, it feels foreign when you are in it
I no longer know how I am feeling, this pulse unfelt and out of touch
Ambivalent, worrisome, maybe I was too quarrelsome
Or it could have been my restless feet
Ready for the next person to be left if not already leaving
I guess my dreams again can go figure
Like John K. Samson says
Select all delete
and again this lone burden carries on another day
rolling in hot wrongs and self deprecation
Illuminated by pain,
I have become a frequent witness to the falling and rising of the roaring sun
Nothing for the wolves still howl and here we are again on the run


Me in the early morning watching the morning fog at a place called: Pond Cove, Briar Island, NS

And when the sun fell, the fog brewed
The visibility dissipated
My eyes they strained
Bloodshot reeling in disdain for what the night had brought
For what I’ve become
I wished for the dawn
I dreamed of tomorrow
But we were still in the moment
My heart grew too fond
Longing for home,
I questioned if it existed
I wondered if it was you
It was then the thoughts came clear
Shining bright in and through
Home is not within you
Home, it is nomadic and obsolete
A notion for when the sleeping is sound
And the ground is soft
A space where the heart feels safe
Where your body can fall cozily with a cup of warm brew
Tea or coffee
Yours to choose
A book, a screen, a furry creature
Some blankets and a bed, or a floor,
Or maybe home might be nothing at all