My very own brand of Murphy’s Law

Well friends, I always try hard to stay positive and away from negative thoughts.

Today, however, I am losing that battle.

So I apologize in advance cause I am in the mood for ranting today and nothing else.

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I am tired of struggling. I know everyone’s lives are difficult, if only in different ways. Everybody has it though. But I am tired of my kind of though.

I am tired of being in pain. I am tired of hospitals. I am trying of medications. I am tired of this weird body I got.

I am tired of nothing being easy for me.

I am tired of things going wrong so often. Probability theory tells me that I should expect half of the happening in my life should go wrong. Hindsight bias tells me that I probably overstating the wrong outcomes and ignoring (or underplaying) the good ones. Quite possible. But still, it feels like -in my life, anything that can go wrong WILL indeed go wrong.

My son’s reply

Yesterday, I wrote about my son’s birthday.

I posted the link on his FB wall.

This is his reply:

So long ago in the middle of the forest and yet so little has changed…

This forest is disappearing, the mines are now in its stead.

And yet the boy, I, keeps dreaming,

we’ll see how far he will get.

I’m sure he’ll get very far

Related articles

• Happy birthday, my son (summersolsticemusings.wordpress.com)
• There Was A Boy (summersolsticemusings.wordpress.com)

Yeah, this is why I had kids

This post is dedicated to Meizac

About 6 years ago, my daughter and I were in the living room, enjoying a slice of cake each.  I forget which kind but I remember it was delicious.

OK. That was NOT the cake we were having but it’s a funny picture of me and a cake so there

The Song of The Chosen One

One of the things my son told me before he left was this: “how can you be happy here in Canada when so many innocents are suffering in Colombia?”

Wait.  Let’s rewind.  I got up and went to the kitchen to make coffee.  My daughter was already up and working.  As we both do, she was playing music in the background.  Vintage Jazz ballads.  We both sing away while I brew my coffee.

Then a song comes up and she says “how did this one get in there?”.  She’s talking about the playlist, of course, because what’s playing now is a protest song by Silvio Rodriguez.  The name, Canción Del Elegido. The Song Of The Chosen One.

She starts singing and I freeze. Does she not know what she’s singing? DOES SHE NOT REALIZE WHAT THE HELL SHE’S SINGING!!!!

Really.  For a very smart person, my daughter can be really clueless sometimes.

Granted, the song is outstanding.  The music is beautiful and the words are stunningly poetic even in their tragedy.  It talks about this Being who stumbles upon Earth after visiting many planets (Think Saint-Exupéry’s Le Petit Prince).  But unlike the Little Prince who decides to go back to his planet, this being chooses to stay on Earth and fight injustice, even if it means going to war.  Because War is the Peace of the Future, he figures out.

y comprendio que la guerra
era la paz del futuro
lo mas terrible se aprende enseguida
y lo hermoso nos cuesta la vida

She sings the whole song in that beautiful voice that has won her many singing contests while I remain frozen in the kitchen, goosebumped, terrified.  She never takes her eyes away from her laptop so she doesn’t notice anything.  And I just want to cry.  Scream.

And then, I hear my son’s voice again:

“How can you be happy here in Canada when so many innocents are suffering in Colombia?”

Failure

I suppose I should write an update.

24 hours later and one attemp by WordPress to sabotage this post, here I am.

Funny, I finished it, hit published and WP deleted the whole thing.  Didn’t even save it as a draft.

Oh well.

My son is gone to Toronto.

He showed up at my door yesterday afternoon after no hearing a word from him since he left in anger on Sunday.  We knew he was OK cause he was posting on Facebook but he never called us or wrote to us.

Anyway, he came with the suitcase and backpack and for a little moment, I was happy cause I thought he was coming to stay for the remainder of the trip.  But that was not the case.

He came in and he asked me to use my laptop so he could find a ride to Toronto.  We made a couple of phone calls and we secured his ride.

After that, we talked for a while.  He said he has talked to a psychologist on Monday and that it had helped.  He told me that the only person that understands him and cares about him is his girlfriend.

He said some not so nice things about his sister.  I refuted this and I think I was able to get my point across.  Or maybe not.  Don’t think I’ll ever know.

It is very unlikely I’ll see him again any time soon. I even mentioned this to him.

He said that he’s never coming back to Canada unless he comes with his girlfriend.  He then proceeded to suggest I should go visit him in Colombia.  I told him that is very unlikely to happen.  I told him that the same things that give him nightmares give me nightmares as well.  That I will never go back.  It took me 8 years to muster the courage to go there for a visit and it almost killed me. It led me to a nervous breakdown and I spent the next 5 months in severe depression.

No, I will never go back there.

There’s no place in the world where my son and I can be together.

We dropped the conversation because he was getting to upset.  Nonetheless, I am grateful I got to see him one last time before he left.

Then it was time for him to go.  He gave me an awkward hug, a little peck on the cheek and asked me to tell his sister he’ll call her when he’s in a better mental state.

Off to Toronto he went.  He flies back to Colombia on July 20th.

And then, who knows what will happen to him.  At least he has his girlfriend, I guess.

I have failed my son.

What a day (and what a weekend)

My mind – and feelings, are all over the place today.

I’ve been subjected to a roller-coaster of emotions by those around me.

In the last 24 hours I’ve been accused of being a liar, a sell-out and many other ugly things by people who supposedly love me.

In the last 24 hours, I’ve gone from “I can’t do this anymore” to “I’ve no choice by to keep going” a few times.

I decided to accept the invitation of one of my son’s high school friends to go to her cottage.  I thought taking him away for some quiet time would do him good.  What a disaster that turned out to be.

Thank goodness my daughter and I had to work on Saturday night so it was supposed to be only roughly 24 hours.

I actually came back physically sick and couldn’t even work last night.

My daughter woke me up early today cause we had a photo shoot at the studio at 11 am.  She left just before 10 cause she had to open the studio for the photographer and I was supposed to get there at 10:30 so she could do my hair.

I took my shower, got dressed and went to get my things together.  Couldn’t find my dress so I thought my daughter had taken it with her so I left.  Got to the studio, to find out my dress was not there.  You know how -when you are already having a bad day, the littlest thing can make you feel really miserable? Yeah, that.

I went back home, found that my dress was still in the dress bag in my daughter’s closet after our last trip to Montreal.  Good.  Headed back to the studio.  While waiting at the light, the only thing on my mind was: “wouldn’t it be nice if I got run over by a bus and it all ended here?”.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get run over so I continued walking and got to the studio.  Everybody was there as it was already 11.  My hair was still not done and I was not dressed.

I managed to get photo shoot presentable and did my takes.  Not without getting my eyes all watery a couple of times.

My daughter went home after the shoot and I stayed to help with a Collegiate Shag workshop.  I wasn’t teaching it but there were short of women so I stayed and helped.

Go figure.  By the time my foot was hurting to much to keep dancing, I was smiling again.  Dancing has that effect on me.

After a quick stop at Loblaws, I got home feeling almost happy again.

Ha! How naive of me.

I open the door and my daughter is crying.  My son is gone.

Take a deep breath….

So yeah.  That’s my day.

My son packed his things and left with his suitcase.  His return ticket is for July 20th so I suppose he intends to stay at a friend’s in the mean time.  Maybe try and change his flight.  I don’t know.

When a mother’s heart weeps

Well, my friends, I’m out of sorts today.

My son’s depression is quickly spiralling down.   He’s been having horrible nightmares since he came to Canada.  Today, when I woke up, went to say hello to him.  He was up already (he’s sleeping on our sofa-bed in the living room).  He looked bad.  He was shaken.  He said today’s nightmare was particularly vicious.

We talked for a bit but his thoughts are dark.  Thoughts of death.

I can’t take this.

I can deal with any pain I may have.  I am strong enough.

But I can’t stand seeing my son be in so much pain.

I don’t know what to do.

There Was A Boy

There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea

A little shy
And sad of eye