Welcome to the world

If you had ever asked me how I felt about a cesarean before I became pregnant my answer would have been absolutely sign me up!  Why would I ever want to push a human being out of my vagina?!  It blew my mind that anyone would ever choose to give birth “naturally” when this was an option. However, once I actually became pregnant I instantly changed my mind. Quite literally the moment I saw the test come back positive I wanted nothing more than a “natural” birth.  With my entire being I knew that feeling every moment of this pregnancy and birth was what I wanted more than anything.

Now this being said I was very aware that our desires for labour and birth are just that, desires, and things do not always go as we hope.  I was told when making the birth plan that I should call it the “birth hopes” because anything can happen and you do not want to be disappointed or feel like you failed in some way. I have always believed that having a safe and healthy birth is the most important thing so you have the baby the way that it needs to happen.  So I knew that although I wanted it to go a specific way I needed to be prepared for it to go completely differently.

I KNEW THIS. 

 I still wasn’t prepared.

Honestly, I just never considered that I would need an emergency C section.  I knew this was possible, but I dismissed the idea and believed it wouldn’t happen to me.  Looking back I think I just wanted my labour and birth to be a certain way so badly that I tried to just will it to be so.  My magic is unfortunately not that powerful and I ended up in the hospital having my baby cut out of my stomach feeling lost and completely caught off guard.

All my planning for Olivias entry to the world went out the window.  I had planned my labour.  I would start by having a bath with relaxing music and breathing through the pain. Ross and I would head to the hospital when the contractions told us we were ready.  My midwife Kate would greet us, and I would get through the pains of labour with Ross there to guide me, rub my back and talk me through each moment of beautiful agony.  After she emerged I would hold her on my chest and we would bond as mother and daughter.

I knew it would hurt, a pain I couldn’t even imagine, but I wanted it.  I wanted to feel her entry from my womb.  For me being able to carry and birth a child is a sacred and magical ability. Not everyone gets to have the experience of bringing a child into the world through their bodies and I felt grateful to be given the opportunity. I wanted to feel it all. 

The universe had other plans.

It began on Friday afternoon.  I had started to feel ill, like I was coming down with the flu.  I was cold and unable to get warm, I felt slightly nauseous and my skin hurt.  I was also having some mild cramping.  I had been to the hospital the day before for a sweep to try and induce labour and I had read that many women start to feel ill before they go into labour, so I didn’t think much of it.  I assumed my baby was beginning her journey into the world.  By evening it started to feel much worse.

Overnight I had a bout of fever and chills.  It was so intense that Ross had to actually hold me down because I was convulsing so hard.  I soaked the bed in sweat and had a pile of blankets on me to deal with the cold.  By morning I had gotten myself into the tub and tried to relax.  We called Kate and told her what happened.  I didn’t have a fever at the time so she said to just monitor the situation and call her in a couple hours.

I then spent the next few hours in and out of sleep and don’t remember a lot only that I was unable to be fully awake and I was slightly delirious.  Fever and chills plagued me and eventually I was back in the tub trying to calm myself down while Ross got in touch with Kate again.  We knew something was wrong.

She asked us to come to the hospital for an assessment.  I no longer believed I was going into labour, despite the contractions, I thought I was just sick and after treatment I would be sent home to wait for labour to have progressed farther along.  We did however bring the hospital bags because unbeknownst to me Ross knew we were going to be having the baby one way or another.  I suppose part of me was trying to convince myself that this wasn’t really happening because I was terrified.

We checked in, I was put in a bed and they began an intravenous drip of antibiotics which I would end up staying on for 53 hours.  I was informed Olivias heart rate was too high and if they couldn’t get it under control we would just have to have the baby. I knew she meant a cesarean but at that moment I was too worried about my baby to care that things were going this way.  It was only afterwards that the disappointment hit me. 

Not even an hour after we arrived I was being taken to the operating room.  Now I do want to say that as scary as this was the OB, the nurses and the anesthesiologist were amazing.  They did everything they could to make me feel comfortable, safe and well looked after.  Well, that is after informing me that because I had some unknown infection that being given a spinal could result in me getting meningitis. So as if this whole situation wasn’t frightening enough I was now certain I would end up with a brain disease.

So here I am in this insanely bright room, with ten other people and zero chill.  As I sat listening to them discuss my situation as though I wasn’t there Kate came over and held my hands.  She put her forehead on mine and told me to focus on her and pretend we were on a beach somewhere. That seemingly small gesture was huge and I will be forever grateful she was there in the room with me.  We then began the procedure.

I had to sit up on the table with a pillow to hug as they stuck the needle in my spine. It wasn’t pleasant. They all laughed at me because I have a ton of tattoos but am not a fan of needles.  I made sure to tell them the tattoos only make me appear badass, its all about the street cred.  Almost immediately a numbness travelled from my toes all the way up to my chest leaving me with a feeling of breathlessness.  This, if you know my anxiety, caused more panic then the catheter I knew they were inserting and the fact that they were about to cut my stomach open and pull out a tiny human.

I had Ross on my left and Kate on my right, holding my hands and calmly telling me how amazing I was doing, as though there was an option to be doing anything differently.  I couldn’t move.  I could however feel that a scene from a horror movie was happening behind the blue sheet.  There was no pain but I did feel the pushing and pulling and eventual removal of the little creature who had been inhabiting my body for the past 41 weeks.

I heard a tiny cry, and that was it, I was a mother. It all happened so fast. They brought her to me and placed her on my chest for only a moment.  Since I couldn’t move my arms to hold her Ross was the one who got to cradle our daughter to his bare chest.  It is a moment I will cherish in my memory forever.  Seeing the man I love holding our baby for the first time. Seeing her face for the first time.  Nothing will ever feel as beautiful as that moment did.

For 40 weeks and 5 days I had carried our child inside my body, my womb was her first home.   Now here she was, no longer a part of my body but my heart on the outside. We were now two separate beings and that gave me a sense of loneliness that I never expected. With this enormous wave of love came an emptiness I didn’t know how to fill.

After Olivia had been cleaned up and thoroughly checked out she was placed in my arms and we were finally wheeled into a calmer more dimly lit room where I could gaze at her perfect little face and begin breastfeeding.  She latched immediately, and I was thrilled (I didn’t know the issues that would arise) and momentarily the empty feelings ceased. 

Ross called our parents and my sister to share our news and for a few moments I was alone with her.  I couldn’t believe I was looking into the face of the child we had created, this little being I had spent so many long days and nights wanting to know.  I finally got to meet her.  I worried a lot during my pregnancy that I wouldn’t have a bond with her or love her right away.  To clarify, I loved her while she was inside me but it was more of a protective love, like I knew I was solely responsible for her safety.  I was excited and felt connected to her but how could I be in love with someone I had never met?

But the very moment I felt her energy in the room I discovered a love I didn’t know existed before her.  How could I have known?  Bringing a life into the world was a beautiful and sacred experience.  My womb was the gateway between worlds.  Her energy was created inside my body and now lives in the world affecting all it encounters and bringing with it pure and divine love.

What a precious gift the universe had bestowed upon us. 

To the asshole who robbed us.

I don’t even know what I want to say to you.  All I know is I need to say something.  You need to be aware of the damage you caused with your unjustified and selfish actions.  You hurt us.  You hurt me.  You changed my life in an instant, and for what?

I don’t know you and you in turn do not know me.  I do not know what lead you to the decision you made when you thought coming into my bank with a gun was the best course of action.  I do not know your intentions.  I only know how I felt, what I thought and how I now feel.  So let me explain to you how you impacted my life the day we met.

I was having a perfectly lovely day at work. It was slower then usual and that left plenty of time for chatting and laughing with the women I work with about our lives, school, wedding planning, wanting babies etc. I was enjoying my day and felt happy.  I went for my lunch in the park as usual, went and got myself a coffee and headed back to what I anticipated to be an uneventful afternoon at the bank. I assumed I would chat with my clients, drink my coffee and finish the day as it began – with a smile on my face.  It never crossed my mind that two minutes after returning from lunch my world would be shattered and my smile would turn to tears and fear and anger.

I returned to the branch and sat down at my wicket.  I was just getting everything turned back on and ready for my first after lunch customer. I heard my co-worker say “Melissa is open at the end here she can help you” It was the sound of my name that made me look up and I was not ready for what I saw when I did.  I saw her (my co-worker) with fear in her eyes as you grabbed her in front of me and said “You are coming with me” You held her with one hand and in the other I saw your gun.  In that moment I briefly thought this isn’t real.  I thought I was just seeing things and that this moment that I have feared would happen was really taking place. 

You came around behind me, into my space, into a place that is supposed to feel safe and secure and you violated that.  You immediately made me feel insecure and in awful danger .  I felt like any wrong movement on my part could result in that gun going off.  You must understand I have never been in this situation before, I was not expecting it, I was in complete shock.

You came up right next to me and with a gun pointed in my direction said to “Give you all the money” I of course knew that complying was my only option and all I wanted was for this awful moment to pass so of course I gave you everything I had. You told me to hurry which made sense but it was what you said next that shattered my core and made me feel like this was real and I was in danger. You said “If you give me any dye packs I will blow your fucking head off”.  My world stopped spinning right there and from that moment on I couldn’t move, I didn’t breathe, I just sat paralyzed watching you move from one girl to the next threatening them, stealing from them and filling them with a fear that I knew was similar to mine. Those moments felt like slow motion. 

I watched you shoving money in your jacket, I watched you pulling your gun in and out of your pocket, reminding us that you were in control.  You warned us to stay where we were, and not answer the phone. You threatened our lives.  You stole not just money from the bank you stole our feeling of safety and security.  You stole a piece of myself that I don’t know I will get back.

After you ran off I heard my supervisor say to lock the doors.  I saw the people from upstairs come down and it was only then that I took a breath and realized it was over.  That’s when the tears started.  The fear had worked its way up from the very pit of my stomach into my chest and throat. I felt sick, shaky, violated.  This is not the first time I have feared for my life but this was certainly the most terror I have ever experienced. My whole insides were violently rippling and I felt reality slipping through my fingers as I was handed a pen and paper asking me to identify you. 

When the police arrived, surprisingly quickly, it was then I felt some minor sense of relief.  I knew that for the time being we were all safe and I could let out nervous laughter as we waited for instruction.  We all had to write out a statement and speak with an officer. Now as much as it hurt me to see you threatening my co workers I am glad you took your time visiting each one of us as it gave me enough time to memorize your face, to notice all the details that could in any way help to identify you.  

Interestingly enough when the officer read my statement he told me it was very well written and he wished everyone gave statements like me.  Yes, I pay attention to detail.  I am a writer its what we do. 

The branch closed for the rest of the afternoon and we were sent home to process what just happened.  Ross had come home early that day, to my surprise and relief, and as soon as I was in the door I just wanted to be in his arms and cry. I needed to feel some sense of security. 

I then had to explain to my boyfriend that I had a man point a gun at me today.  I had to call and tell my parents through tears that I was alright - they will never be happy about me working at the bank again – and I had to tell myself that everything was okay, that I was okay, that it was alright to cry because that was terrifying.  Unfortunately, now comes the hard part, the part where life has to continue after this horror you put us all through. 

I went into work the next morning.  I didn’t know what else to do.  I didn’t want to be there but honestly I didn’t know not going to work was even an option.  I mean I have only been working here for 2 months so in my mind I was scared I would lose the job if I didn’t come in.  This thought was also stressful because in those few hours after everything happened I didn’t know if I ever wanted to return to the job anyway – I still don’t.  However, I went in and immediately felt ill.  The tears were ever present and I knew I needed to get the hell out.

I did speak to the work counsellor that day and as lovely and friendly as she was I didn’t feel like she helped at all.  All she wanted to do was give me coping mechanisms and all I wanted to do was talk about what happened.  I have been dealing with panic and anxiety my whole life – trust me I know how important it is to breathe.  She kept saying things like “He probably didn’t want to hurt you” “You should know he only wanted money” Well when someone points a gun at me I don’t give a shit if their intention is to hurt me or not, I only care about the fact that there is a gun on me and I could die.  I do not feel comforted by the fact that maybe you didn’t have any bullets or maybe you just wanted us to feel afraid. 

All I thought about while I was looking at you and your gun was that I do not want to die.  And all it takes is one second for you to pull the trigger and my life is over.  So fuck you.  Fuck you for coming into my work and threatening us, for terrifying us, for making us feel small and insignificant.  Fuck you for thinking you could point a gun at us and just run away leaving us here to deal with the consequences.  You may not have physically hurt me but you left mental and emotional open wounds and I do not know if or when they will heal. 

You left me in a state of panic and anxiousness that has yet to pass – its been a full week now since the incident and I still can’t sleep.  My chest is tight, I am in a constant state of confusion, and feel like I might vomit at any given moment.  I feel lost.  I feel sad and angry.  I feel cheated and wronged.  I feel like you have ruined a mental state I have worked so hard to achieve.  I feel like I need therapy.  I feel like I need medication to keep me clam.  I feel so fucking furious. 

I assume you have not even thought of me once since you threatened me but here I am thinking about you all day and all night for the past week.  I am uncomfortable at my job because every time the door opens I feel the panic rise up from my stomach and I think I will be sick.  My hands shake so bad I can’t type the numbers fast enough to be efficient.  I am scared of every person who walks in the door and comes to talk to me.  I worry they will hurt me - I worry they are you. 

Yesterday a man walked in and when I saw him reach into his pocket and I knew he had a gun. I thought I would pass out from the fear that took over my body.  I wanted to run but was completely paralyzed. The tears filled my eyes and I just watched him get closer to me.  Then he pulled his hand out of his pocket and put his hydro bill on the counter in front of me and asked to pay it.  THIS ISNT FAIR.  

Sometimes I do not even know how I am at work.  I am not happy or comfortable.  I do not feel safe.  Hell two other people haven’t come back.  So what the fuck am I doing there?  I guess I was hoping that just being there would help the anxiety to pass.  I have worked too hard on myself to let you, some piece of trash, decide how my life is going to go.  You do not get to have that much control or power over my world.   

An email was sent out a couple days ago at work that informed us you have not only terrorized and robbed us but two other branches as well.  Reading that message made me angry and afraid all over again.  I hoped you had been caught or at least fled town.  I hoped we were the only victims of your cowardly actions. Now I am left to wonder if you will return.  Was it just too easy to get what you wanted from a few small women whose lives you were threatening?  

I don’t know what will happen to you, if you will get caught or if you will just keep on terrorizing people and being a complete shitbag.  I hope eventually karma catches up to you.  I hope you get everything you deserve in this life. I hope you regret what you did and even if you are not caught you never do something like this again.  And I hope that someday soon I can close my eyes without seeing you.

Post Writing

I finally decided I needed to take some time off work to re-evaluate what I am doing and how I am feeling.  I am seeing a DR on my own since the work appointed therapists take up to a month to give us PHONE counselling.  I was told by my manager that asking for the time off was bad timing and they wouldn’t pay me for it.  Oh I am sorry is my needing some time to get my head straight inconvenient for you? Well having a man threaten to kill me was inconvenient for me.  I did my best.  I went to work for a week after the incident and I tired to push through it.  I know now that what I need is time.  Time to relax and make sense of my thoughts, to de-stress and figure out if the bank is truly where I want to be.  To try and assess whether or not I will ever feel comfortable in that line of work.  I don’t know what revelations this week or so will bring me or if I will even feel better at all but I am not giving up on myself.  I worked too hard to get to a place where I mentally feel good and happy to let an incident like this or a desire to not disappoint my coworkers ruin my stability.  I have to put myself first.  My health and safety is more important than any job.

Too Soon.

Death what a bitch.

Its not deaths fault of course it’s the nature of her business.  She swoops in and steals our breath and doesn’t look back.  Many of us will not get to die peacefully in our sleep, at some ripe old age where people say “Im not surprised, she was getting up there.  At least she lived such a long and full life”

No, many of us are stolen away when we are at our most vulnerable.  Death takes advantage of that and steals us when we are weak, when we do not believe ourselves strong enough to go on.  Our bodies are failing us, our minds are shadowy.  We are no longer who we once were.  We are now just another name on a list and death comes and takes us away.

It is not those of us who die who suffer however, it is those of us death leaves behind.  For those who are gone the suffering is over.  It remains painful for those of us left crying in the emptiness and wondering what happened.  Where did we go wrong?  What could we have done differently?  Is it our fault?

And truthfully sometimes maybe it is.  I mean not in the grand scheme of things.  There are always outside forces bigger than ourselves.  Shit sometimes it cancer, sometimes a plane crashes, sometimes we just didn’t look before stepping off the sidewalk.  But there are those instances when we wonder maybe if I just picked up the phone that day instead of letting it go to the machine…

Would the course of their history have changed?  Would mine?  Had I have just gone to visit instead of making an excuse about how busy I was maybe I could have helped. Maybe my absence was part of a pattern I didn’t know existed.  What if my silence was the final silence before they made their choice to call death themselves and schedule an appointment?

We can’t blame ourselves for the behaviour of those around us, can we?  I mean if we are all products of our environments than in a sense we are all responsible for those around us to some extent.  Ultimately we are all going to make our own decisions and do what we think is best for us, but what if we never had anyone to tell us how much we were loved, how much we were needed, how much our life meant to another?  Maybe we did and just didn’t hear it.

Maybe I should have tried harder to get you into rehab.  Maybe I should have tried harder to make sure you saw the blue sky through the rain.  Maybe it could be different now.  Maybe I am just so racked with guilt about the last words we spoke that I feel responsible for something over which I had no control. 

In the end I have no answers only questions and an ache that I cannot medicate, though I have tried.

Yours Cruelly,

Melissa

(spoken in stardust)

Pleasure in the small things.

It was brought to my attention that yesterday was the international day of happiness.  What a lovely idea!  A day to celebrate happiness seems like a perfect reason to rejoice in the things that bring a smile to our faces.  What better day to remind ourselves of all the things, big or small, that bring joy to our lives.  Life is full of special moments so lets all take the time to remind ourselves that even when you have a day where you don’t smile there is still always a reason too.

For the majority of my life I have struggled with depression and finding the joy in my life.  That is not to say I was never happy but simply that I had a hard time holding on to those thoughts and feelings.  It never took much to bring me right back down.  It is truly only the last 5 years or so that I can honestly say the good in my life take priority over the bad.  It has been in these past few years that I can truly say I am happy.

And lets all be honest, life is hard and full of challenges which can sometimes feel completely overwhelming.  It can be difficult to see the beauty in the world around us when we are having a bad day at work or school, when we seem to be drowning in debt or are stuck in toxic relationships.  It is during these times however that it is most important to stop, take a breath and really take stock of all the good that is being overshadowed by negativity. 

A beautiful day can be ruined so quickly by one moment of sadness or anger and that is the feeling that tends to stick with us the rest of the day.  We end up believing that our day was awful and we disregard all the lovely moments that might have transpired before the bad moment or fail to notice them if they occur after we are already upset.

It is within the last few years that I have done, or attempted to do, a complete overhaul of my thoughts.  I consciously take the time to breathe, to try to better understand a situation, to let things go, to not let a brief moment of anger overtake my entire day.  This is not to say I am always successful but I am aware of it and I do my best to enjoy each day.

A big change I made was understanding that it didn’t have to be a perfect day or a big thing that could make my day wonderful or at least make me smile.  I learned to take pleasure in the small things, the little moments that can be so easily overlooked.  When someone holds a door open for me, when I am waiting in a lineup and a baby smiles at me, when I get to stop and pet a dog while I am walking down the street or I ate a really good apple.  All these tiny moments can really add up in a day and each one of them fills me with happiness.

One of my favourite quotes is from Anais Nin who said “We do not see things as they are, we see them as we are”. I think this idea applies to many aspects of life but most certainly applies to the way we view joy.  When we walk around angry, upset, full of hate or just waiting for the next bad thing to happen we end up seeing the world in a very negative light.  We do not see the happy moments or turn them into something negative.  For example – Someone held a door open for me and I had to run so I didn’t hold them up, a baby smiled at me while I was waiting in line ugh I hate kids, a dog jumped up on me while I was walking down the street and got dirt on my pants, that apple was good but why are so many apples so shitty?  Okay, maybe not the most thrilling examples but each moment we live we have a choice as to how we will react to each situation.

Something that helped me see beauty in each day was a project I found on Pinterest.  It seemed a little silly but after I started it I was excited to do it each day.  Every day I had to find one happy thought, feeling or experience that happened, write it on a small sip of paper and put it in my Happy Thoughts jar. I began this project on New Years Day and continued for the entire year.  At the end of the year I had a jar filled with 365 great things that made me smile that year.  It was not only a lovely reminder of all the special moments I enjoyed throughout the year but it was also a great daily challenge to find joy.  Some days it was difficult to pick just one special thing and other days I struggled to find even a moment that felt good enough to remember.  On those days I felt nothing special or good happened I would think more broadly – For example “I woke up today healthy” “I have a bed to sleep in and food in the fridge” “I have a wonderful family” “I am in love” etc.  This helped me to see that even on my worst days I had a reason to smile and to be grateful.  I wont lie, there were days I said fuck it and wrote nothing, but because I knew I would have those dreary days on the really great days I might write an extra happy thought or two to make up for the shitty times.  It sounds cheesy, I know, but it was one of the best things I could have done for myself. 

This world is a beautiful place filled with amazing things, terrific people and happy moments hidden in each and every situation, we just have to be open to finding them.  There are always going to be bad days, and awful situations it is what we do with those days that matters. 

There will always be jobs we hate, school assignments that are overwhelming, bills to pay and responsibilities to attend to but try to see these things as privileges rather than nuisances. You have a job you hate, be grateful you have a job there are an alarming number of people who can’t find work or are unable to work. You are flooded with school work, be grateful you live in a country that allows you to attend school, hell be grateful you can afford to go to school!  You have bills to pay, well that means you have things you enjoy like a home to live in, a fancy cell phone, internet access, food to eat, clothes to wear etc.  You have responsibilities, that’s amazing it means you are fucking alive and what a goddamn miracle that is to begin with!

We cannot control how other people around us will act but we can control how we will respond.  It took me a long time to understand that and to actually put that knowledge into practice.  Remove toxic people from your life.  I know that can sometimes be a challenge especially if they are family but you have no obligation to people just because you are part of the same family. There are some shitty people out there and we cannot control which family we are born into.  If they are your friends or significant others, it can be tough to say good bye but spending life with people who make us feel anything but happiness is not worth our time.  You have one life to live spend it with the people who make you smile.

And seriously take time to appreciate the little things!  You will be surprised how much joy you can find in small moments you can so easily overlook.  These moments add up!  It wont always be easy but it will always be worth it.

So to conclude I want to tell you some of the little things that make me smile.

A fresh jar of peanut butter.  Seriously I get so excited to be the first one to slide a knife across the perfectly smooth top.  Since I live with someone who is allergic it is always me who gets this pleasure and it is magical.

Hearing a loon at dawn.

Sitting in a park and watching squirrels run around in the grass.

Baby ducks swimming in a lake.

Accidentally vegan food.

Serving coffee to regulars and knowing I was the first person to make them smile that morning.

Being in the forest and hearing nothing but the breeze in the trees and birds singing.

A warm bubble bath.

Food samples at whole foods.

Listening to a campfire crackling.

Sharing a funny look with a stranger at the store.

A really good stretch.

The smell of cookies baking.

Actual physical mail that isn’t a bill or a flyer. Why don’t people send letters anymore?  Thank you to those of you who do.

Hearing a song that takes me back to a wonderful moment or period of time in life.

Happy tears.

When my blacks match.

Stopping to smell the flowers.

Talking to my parents.

Hugging my sister.

Hearing my Aunt Linda laugh.

Seeing Ross smile.

Eating a really delicious apple – because seriously there are a lot of really bad apples J

What makes you happy?

Yours Cruelly,

Melissa

(Spoken in Stardust)

The Fear.

I cannot tell you how many times I have written and deleted this.  I am actually screaming at myself inside my head and fighting back tears because I am in public and too many people have already seen me cry in my life.  I don’t need a bunch of strangers in a coffee shop staring at the crazy girl spilling tears in her tea while staring at a blank screen.  

How embarrassing.

So instead I bite the inside of my mouth -which is already wounded and sore from all the previous attempts to keep myself under control -and I breathe.  I breathe deeply and precisely, breathe in counting until five and release counting to six.  Do this at least ten times.

Shit…

I think I might have miscounted so that throws the whole thing off.  Start again from the beginning.  Breathe in count until five and release counting to six.  Do this at least ten times.

Melissa you need to pull it together girl. Get your shit straight and stop with this nonsense.  Melissa seriously why cant you just be fucking calm for once in your life?  Why must you sit and obsess over every detail?  Stop worrying about that thing you said five years ago to that person who likely does not even remember you let alone the interaction.  It doesn’t matter anymore.  

Let it go. 

Melissa are you listening to me? 

Let it go.

As the sweat starts to bead on every inch of my surface and the heat overwhelms my senses my eyes glaze over and I think I might be sick.  Why did I drink that tea now I need to use the toilet, but how can I possibly go to the washroom right now?  I would have to walk past all these people and you know they will all look at me.  I will absolutely fall down or trip or god forbid I actually make it there without incident then the people just wait for me to exit the washroom and watch me walk back to my seat. What if there is someone in there already and I have to just stand at the door like an idiot waiting?  What if the lock is broken?  How many times will I have to check it to be sure?

 I can’t handle that pressure.  

Not knowing.  The suspense kills me. 

...

And this is how it goes for longer than I care to admit.  My thoughts spiral out of control and although I am certain nobody here even notices me I cannot dismiss the thought that everyone here is watching me and they all know.  They know I am holding on by a thread.  They watch and wait for the moment my scream is out loud.  All it will take is one single tear to escape and its all over.

….

So hear I sit, now half hour later, and perhaps the fear has subsided - perhaps.  One can never be too careful though since the fear is well known for its ability to hide just around the corner waiting for the exact right, and wrong, moment to jump out and smack me in the face again.  I have learned to never let my guard down, to always be prepared for the bitch to tap me on the shoulder and smile as I crumble. 

Fear, she is a motherfucker.

It is this very fear that stops me from living my life the way I desire.  It stops me from writing, from exercising, from socializing, it stops me from leaving my fucking apartment some days.  It used to stop me from eating and those were some empty and painful times.  Fear is so debilitating.  It leaves me feeling so lost some days I look in the mirror and I do not even know the person looking back at me.  I do not know who I am or what I want - Fuck did I ever?

All I ever wanted to do was write and honestly I do not know if I no longer care or if the fear is keeping me from accomplishing anything.  She comes in many forms of thought and emotion but at the end of the day it all stems back to her.   Fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of success, fear of death, fear of life, fear of no longer being afraid.  I am scared all the time of everything.  It is mentally and physically exhausting.  To know a day without fear would be surreal. 

...

So here I sit staring at these words wondering what to do with them.  Do I just delete them like I do the rest of the garbage I produce or do I go forward with them and hope for something, anything to come from them?

Maybe this time I will actually let people read it instead of letting the fear get in the way…

… Maybe…

Just breathe Melissa. 

Just breathe. 

Yours cruelly,

Melissa

(Spoken in Stardust)

A girl in the world.

I went for a jog today.  While I was running down the path a man walking towards me started staring at me.  He proceeded to put his hands up to his chest and with a stupid smile make boob shaking gestures at me as I passed.  I was annoyed and disgusted as usual when a man does something like this to me.  Then not even two minutes later some other man sees me coming up the path.  He was off to the side and I was sort of in the middle.  As I got closer he stepped out into my path and tried to grab me.  I was alert and saw it coming so was able to dodge him and get past however it didn’t stop him from trying to touch me and he just turned with me as I passed him with his hands out trying to get at me.

Now I don’t know what he wanted. Was this an attempted abduction or just a causal groping?  Maybe he didn’t even know what his intention was but just saw a woman running near him and put his arms out to touch her. What he wanted doesn’t matter the fact is he attempted to touch me in some way and violated my personal space. It is wrong and makes me feel so fucking uncomfortable.  I spent the rest of my jog home feeling upset and wishing I never left the house.

Unfortunately, days like today are not isolated incidents.  I could never possibly remember every instance of sexual harassment or abuse I have personally suffered for no reason other than I am a girl in the world.

For example, within the last few months I was walking through the park – and let me be clear this is not a secluded isolated park it is a path from one street to the next full of people, families etc - As I was walking down the very crowded path a man walked towards me put his hand in his pants and started touching himself while calling me Guapa (beautiful).  In that same park I had a man grab my arm and not let go as he tried to kiss me. Before that there was the time I was walking down the street and a man from across the street started yelling Guapa at me and when I didn’t respond after the third time he started screaming that I was a bitch and a whore.  And these are just the examples of when I felt unsafe.  This does not include the almost daily gawking, winking, and mumbled “compliments” under mens breath.

It is so common in fact that yes I do walk around untrusting of most men and always alert.  I am careful where I go, what time of day it is and how many people are around.  I rarely go anywhere alone at night and I always carry my keys in my hand between my fingers as my Dad taught me to when I was young (even during the day).  These are things I shouldn’t have to do but the reality is the world I live in is a scary place.

In my lifetime I have been cornered in bars, restaurants and shops by men wanting to be close to me and make me feel small and uncomfortable, I have been slapped on the ass, had my boobs grabbed, been kissed and been just touched without permission more times then I care to think about.  I have been told to smile, called cutesy names and then called whore because I wasn’t interested, I have been spit on, had things thrown at me and screamed at for just being a girl. 

I had a man chase me down the street one night while he jerked off.  I could see my apartment building and I just kept thinking I was going to be raped or murdered in view of my home by some asshole who gets his kicks scaring women.  I screamed that I was going to the police and he backed off – luckily.  I did call the police and had to look at a line up of photos because I wasn’t the only one to report this that week.

I had a group of men grab me and pull me into an ally once.  They circled around me and were making rude comments.  I didn’t know what to do but luckily for me a passer by saw it happen and came to my rescue.  He yelled at them and grabbed my arm to pull me out and they took off.

I had a man threaten to kill me once because he hated women and I was a stupid fucking woman. 

I had a man on a bus scream at me for 15 minutes calling me a whore and a bitch.  Screaming that I thought I was better than everyone because I was a woman.  Screaming that I was inconsiderate of everyone around me and that I shouldn’t be just sitting there trying to look all hot for everyone to see.  This was on a bus in Vancouver with several other people just sitting there silently listening as this guy berated me until my stop where he also got off.  Nobody said or did anything.  I felt so unsafe I ran into a store and just stood there crying afraid he was waiting for me outside to follow me home.

And these are just examples of the strangers who have harassed or violated me.  I do not even want to get into the friends, coworkers, and boyfriends who have acted completely inappropriately. 

The thing that makes this even worse is that most of these occurrences happened in public.  There were, in many cases, several people around and yet for some reason this behaviour is accepted.  These men never felt like they would be scolded or judged by the people around them and in almost every case they weren’t.  It is as though this sort of behaviour is just accepted or expected and nobody wants to get involved.  Or we, as women, are looked at like it was our fault, like we did something to warrant this sort of behaviour. Its such bullshit.

Now before anyone gets all “Its not all men” Yes I am aware.  I would never say all men are disgusting perverts who have no respect for women but sadly there are an awful lot who fall into that category.  I wish I didn’t have to feel scared to leave my house, scared to wear something that might be even the slightest bit revealing, scared to use public washrooms, scared to ride busses alone or sit in a coffee shop without the fear of being approached by someone. But I do feel this way.  I have had too many instances of harassment and abuse to feel comfortable or safe talking to strangers or smiling at someone who may genuinely just be being nice.

So next time you smile at a girl and she doesn’t smile back consider that maybe the last time she smiled back some man thought it was an invitation.  Or if you say hello and don’t get a response it might not be because she is a bitch but maybe she just isn’t interested in having a conversation. We don’t owe you anything.  I am sorry that so many men have left a bad taste in our mouths and you good men have to feel bad just for being men. I almost daily have to feel bad for just being a girl. 

To all the men who have engaged in this kind of behaviour with women they know, hope to know or just wanted to make feel uncomfortable I think I speak for most women when I say Fuck You.  

Yours cruelly,

Melissa 

(Spoken in Stardust)

* I know this was a little ranty.  I do not feel bad about it.  I am so upset after what happened earlier and I needed to vent *

A letter to my body.

I owe you an apology. 

Truly I owe you a million separate apologies. 

I am sorry. 

I am sorry for all the hurtful things I have said to you over the years.  I have called you terrible names and said things to you no body deserves to hear. I am sorry for believing all the awful things other people said about you.  I am sorry because I said them too.  I never stood up for you.  I was scared and embarrassed.  I never loved you. 

I am sorry for all the hours I have spent glaring at you in disgust in the mirror.  All the times that I hated you for not being what I thought you should be.  I hated you for not being perfect.  I took out all my frustrations and insecurities on you.

I am sorry for all the abuse you have suffered at my hand.  I have starved you, gorged you and purged you, poisoned you, cut you, pinched you, hit you and left you feeling empty and betrayed.  I have left scars that will never fade and still remember the ones that have.

I am sorry for believing you were worthless and allowing others to abuse you.  I am sorry for treating you like trash and letting people use you.  I am sorry I never understood you had value.  I am sorry for never understanding that it wasn’t your fault I was so unhappy. 

I am sorry for leaving you stagnant, and then pushing you too hard.  I am sorry for making you ill and blaming you for failing me when it was me that failed you.  I took you for granted.

I am sorry for believing you were working against me.  For every moment of panic I resented you more.  I never trusted you.  I never believed you would do what you were supposed to. 

It was never your fault.  It was me not you. 

You are the reason I am able to type this letter.  You are the reason I am able to get out of bed each day.  You make it possible for me to walk, run, kick leaves, lay in the grass, swim in mountain rivers and explore this planet.  Without you the life I live would not be possible.  I wouldn’t exist without you. 

You give me life.  You cradle my energy inside you and allow me to breathe. 

Because of you I can taste, smell, hear, see, touch and experience life.

  

Through you I can create life. You are a miracle, you are truly a gift and I should appreciate you so much more than I have. 

I cannot promise I will never say an unkind word to you again.  In fact, I am certain I will.  I am not as strong as I would like to be.  I can promise that each day I will do my best to take care of you and I will try to do more for you so you know how appreciated you are.  I will do my best to look past your imperfections and see you as the temple you are.

Thank you for continuing to house my soul even though at times I didn’t deserve you. 

Thank you for being strong and resilient. 

Thank you for never giving up on me.

I can’t tell you I love you because I don’t, but I am starting to like you. 

I am sorry that it has taken me so long to say this to you. 

Yours Cruelly,

Melissa

(Spoken in Stardust)