Don’t tell me to smile.


Stop being so negative. 

Don’t be mad. 

Snap out of it. 

It can’t be that bad. 

Look at how lucky you are? 


When the anxiety of life is weighing on you. When you you struggle to keep yourself below an 8 at all times. This is not what you want to hear. It really is advice that tears apart your soul, scratching at it like sandpaper on metal.

It really can be that bad, because right now it is. Right now my reality does not meet your perception. My reality is making everything feel like vinegar. And with every new interaction, it feels like baking soda is being dumped in the acidic nectar. Over flowing in volcanic bubbles, leaving a big mess to clean up.

I want to feel mad and can’t just simply snap out of it. Some times the glitter you want to see, does not exist. It may have existed before but the gale force wind that is my anger has blown it and taken all the pretty things with it.  And like most acts of mother nature, my anger is unpredictable.

and you want me to smile. That I may be able to pull off, but the smile that you see is not wrapped in the truth. It is wrapped in what you want to see. You want to see brightness. You want to see societies version of a presentable woman and mother. But right now I have plastered on a mask to pretend to be that person,  to make you feel better. To make you feel less uncomfortable being around me.

Because that is the sad truth about anxiety. About the looming passenger that has taken over….Being and  loving a person who suffers from it can be torturous at times.

It can be uncomfortable to be around it.

Regardless of if we hid it or if we speak out,


it makes us all little squeamish.

It makes us all ask why?  or when? or how did this happen? I makes us want to say ….’come on..its not that bad’

But anxiety comes with the super power of  being able to not bow down to the questions. Questions that were meant to help, questions that were meant to create understanding.

That passenger actually seems to gain head way with these questions and advice such as the above. It seems to act as gasoline to the fire. There are no real answers to the questions and this scares us. It makes you believe even more so that your ability to be normal is impossible..and there we spiral further down the dark adventure with an unwanted passenger.

So if you see the signs that the person you love is  about to take a trip with a terrible companion, don’t ask them why. Don’t tell them to cheer up or to smile. Don’t belittle their anger. Just be there. Make them a blanket fort, read to them, hug them, make them tacos, bring them coffee, find out what they love and make it happen. Let them know you love them. Because I promise they will find the road back to you and solid ground.

And if you happen to be the one taking the awful road trip…remember to accept the love. Take the hug, drink the coffee, eat the tacos, sit in the fort, close your eyes while they read. Even if you don’t say a word, take in all the love. It will become useful when your feet fall back on earth and you will need it for strength. You will tap its energy to help you stand back up, over and over. Be patient. Always stand up one more time then you fallen over, no matter… what you will be OK. Just keep trying. Each time you do, your bravery shines through.


Losing our stories: how today’s storytelling is breaking us down.

Storytelling has been a part of our cultural, our society for centuries. Humans have used storytelling platforms to pass on their history, to entertain, to share and to connect. From the very beginning  we have used our skills to tell stories to better ourselves as a race, this incredible human race. The act of weaving, creating, building and dictating stories is built into our core. It is in our bones, made up in our blood and is an important part of who we are.

Graceless beauty

Instinctively we desire stories. No matter how much we change and grow as a society, we crave the connection that a good story brings. We want to share ours, hear others, watch new ones and read deep ones. We simply crave the existence of well developed characters, amplified dialogue and fulfilling plot. Just think of how amazing you feel after a good book or at the end of an incredible movie? We still need our stories. It simply creates the people we become.

Our primal connection to ‘the stories’ has lessened as we have ‘grown’ as a society.  Our world is expanding and we are becoming more technology based. Science has taken us so far. It has developed our world into something almost unbelievable.  But with technology, come less attachment to one another, and nothing can replace that. Human connection, a key ingredient the fulfillment of storytelling. We have moved so away from shared fire pits while communities circle together sharing stories and learning from one another. We have lost that primal need to be near each other creating and learning.

We have become a world that simply swallows our stories whole. We eat them up, without sharing. We are creating story indigestion. Pain travels up and we gulp it all down.  We sit solo on our computers and read article after article telling us what we should think, who we should be and how we should live. We circle around giant screens and watch dramatic depictions of the terrible depths the human race has gone. We watch, hear and read about the hatred, anger and persecution that surrounds us. We take it all in, without realizing where, what, who and why it has been sent here. We lose the connection to the purpose, to what it was meant to teach us.


We crave storytelling so strongly that we still create our own stories. But since we are so over stimulated by obtrude and over processed tales, we are slowly losing our ability to creatively weave stories that better us and our lovely roommates on this beautiful earth. So instead we degrade each other. Create dramatic stories that belittle one another. We gossip. We judge, point fingers and blame. We displace our own confusion and dysfunctional emotions on to our fellow humans. We are so disconnected that instead of weaving tales of love, growth and emotional acceptance of who we are we break each other apart.

We tearing each other down hoping to find the missing piece that is lost in our own soul. But my friends, we will not find that gem in the rubble of our broken spirits. The answer lies in us. In our stories. Our ability to creatively weave them into channels of knowledge and growth.  We listen, we love, we create. We build each other up and learn from one another. This journey is shared one. We need each other.


Today’s problems would disappear if we talked TO each other instead of ABOUT each other.


See the sun light today my friends. Feel the warmth. Grow your branches out and lift each other while you do so. Live tall, love strong and lift each other up.

Trust in today’s light 

I am trusting in today. 

Just today. Because that’s what I was given right now. Today. 

It is a general cliche, ‘one day at a time’. But really one day is all you need. Right now. 

It’s all I need right now. 

One day to praise. One days to love. One day to do it right. 

I don’t have the power or have not even given the supplies for the whole journey. My sound cannot carry the weight.  I have the gear for today. Exacly what I need. Exactly what I can carry. 


That’s what I have. And I will light it up. 



Can I be kind today?
Kind to myself, kind to others, kind to my world.

Some mornings I wake up and really have to think about it. The urge to go back to bed, to snap, to yell are all to overwhelming.
Anger can be so intense. The urge to explode, lava pouring out with the words of feelings of frustration. The daily grind becoming too much to handle.

The list is too long,
The kids aren’t listening,
I am tired, hungry, etc
Money is tight,
My husband is preoccupied,
There is not enough time in the day.

The constant feeling of hovering over the edge. Swaying dangerously on the ledge of explosion.
It stays like that, waiting for that moment, the moment the release will occur. The yelling, the stomping, the crying, the screaming.
The tantrum.
In the moment it feels worth it, but is it?
What was accomplished? Really…

The high after release, then the guilt of explosion.

It can be hard to be calm. I know.

Tantrums are a tool in my adult tool belt. Inappropriate for my age, but I still haven’t grown out of them.

Tantrums haven’t gotten me anywhere efficiently. The slow down the progress, push me down until I can build myself up again.

So today I will be kind. I will be calm, and breath.

I will remember that it is never worth the tantrum.
I am stronger, smarter and better then that.


Much love,

Poetry: long conversations.

Today I had some much needed time to myself. Not doing errands, not shopping or tending to little ones, just sitting in the cafe with coffee, poetry and my journal. I read a great poetry anthology called ‘day into night- a haiku journey’ by Gunther Klinge. There was one haiku that stuck with me.
It was a fitting poem. I was blessed to meet up with many people today by chance, to converse and feel each interaction with my full spirit.

What a concept,
‘Life as one long conversation’
The ebbs and flows
The pauses and the breaks
The breaths
Problems resolved and ideas shared
Oh what a thought
What perspective it brings

‘Life as one long conversation’

Beginning to end,
Who chooses the start

How would I describe the conversation?

Am I waiting for it to end so I can rush out to more important events?
Running out as quickly as I came in

Or is it a conversation full of moments
Moments of appreciation
Of love
Of insight
Blessed moments
The warmth of that conversation overwhelms my senses

But just a true with a physical conversation,
The ‘life’ conversations are ones of choice.

They are chosen by me and me only
Like a choose your own adventure book.

I choose the speed, the context, the reactions

Do I choose to rush?
Or do I choose to slow down,
And enjoy.

Will I choose to find the beauty in each interaction?
Will I choose to find the beauty in each person I meet?

Will I choose to let go of the past and jump fully into the future,
And the future conversations that will come?

I do.
I do.
I do.

Not letting the past cloud my vision, choose my path or decide who I am.
I choose light,
Love ,
And willingness to let go.

Let go,
Let it flow,
Let it grow with me as I breath space Into my long conversation.

Much love,

Poetry: Not even for me

I have missed you. Blogging has become a side bar on my to do list. I have been writing a lot but my focus has been on poetry not the essays of before. I figured that sharing my poetry was not worth it, but what the hell. I love this blog, and I will share what I write. With my 29th birthday upon me and a time for prospective, I have realized even more my love of the written word. I love to forming words into art. Art from my soul. I have decided to do some writing courses and started school again. Back to college (kinda) I go. No class rooms but online courses to get a certificate in creative writing, and I begin in January. I plan to share more on this beautiful blog, even if it be introspective and odd, like my poetry can be. But true to form, it is me, and that is what this space represents.


Day upon day, 



Putting on my many hats. 

My many faces.

My many masks.  

                        The urge to go back is looming


But I know. 

I know, it doesn’t really matter

                                                  because I cannot go back,

                                                                                            because going back does not fit anymore. 

The size has changed. 

That old hat is out. 

The new hats are in. 

                                 Kicking and screaming, My feet are dragging. 

                                 Back to a time of simple, curled up existence

Lost in my mind, introspective


                                                          egocentric soulful journey’s

Now a director of my world, 

                                            Become entwined with the energies around me. 

Doing the work that is required, being the responsible one,

                                                                                             With sense

                                                                                             With purpose

Its not all bad? so why fight? 


           Maybe be it the fear of adulthood, 

                                               Childhood innocence gone into the winds of ‘growing up’ 


                                                                                                                   becoming a mature mother, wife, daughter, sister

The jobs of my womanhood

Time changes all.  

                             It stands still for no one. 

Not even for me, fighting or not. 

Much love,


How slicing potatoes changed my whole outlook.

Slicing potatoes

It helps,
Putting my hands on a pot, on a broom,
In a wash

Tried painting,
But it was easier to fly slice

-Rabia of Basra

I read that poem this morning, and simply fell in love. The truth of it lay flat upon me. Staring me in the face.

Since motherhood has taken me in, I have struggled with ways to hone in on my creativity. I have blogged about this before, it is not news. It is a constant struggle for me to utilize my creative energy while still staying true to the reality of my everyday life.

I have made the decision to stay home with my kids, and provide care for other children. I love my decision and am generally happy with knowing that I made this choice. But I miss challenge and adults. I miss the world out there.

Somedays I thank god that I have been blessed with the life I have. Carefree kids on sunny days, giggle and hugs at random, smiles and bright colours. But Somedays I miss the other side of grass, the grass outside my house. Some days it seems greener.

I think if I was out ‘there’, I could use my creativity more. Not struggle with balance, and the need to challenge myself.

I know this to be untrue. If I worked outside my home, I am sure I would struggle with staying true to my creative soul. I know many woman that do. But it is so much easier to look away for solutions then to fix what is already established.

Reading this poem really allowed it to click for me.

Motherhood, accepting my role as the matriarch of my little family is creative. I clean, I cook , I bake. I put love into the snacks I bake. I put heart and soul into the laundry I fold. I put creativity into the food I cook. I just choose to not see it sometimes.

I forget that the work I do is powerful. The mundane and monotonous labour I preform in my home is the energy that keeps this family happy and content. Allowing them to go out into the world with a smile of kindness and love. The work I do is soulful.

The work we all do is powerful and full of truth. The labour we ALL do it full of our creative soul. We cannot help that. We are in everything that we preform and create.
From the lunch we make for our kids, the floor we mopped or the document we wrote. We are a part of everything. And that makes it special. That makes it unique because there is only one you. What you put into the world changes it. No matter how mundane or simplistic. We all have a voice, the power to change the world around us but using the simplicity of our lives.
You are powerful. The work you do it incredible and loving. Go out into the world and put heart into it. Even if only by fly slicing potatoes.

Much love,