She passed away. 

I will be taking a break from blogging to grieve.

the big “D”

Today I want to talk about a topic I’ve been trying to avoid and deny. 

Death.

Even though I am practicing to become a nurse, and death will be around my daily job. I can’t grasp the concept of how it is fair. How anything is fair really. How is it fair that there are innocent children in Africa and third world countries who are starving to death? How is it fair that lives are taken everyday by drunk drives, or homicides? How is cancer, a disease so malignant and so disgusting that grows with no boundaries with little to no warning signs, how can that disease claim so many victims? How is anything fair? 

A very dear, close friend of mine has been battling cancer for over a year. And I’m struggling coming to terms with the concept that she very well may pass away. She has been labelled “terminal”. Although I have the uttermost faith in her and her abilities to fight, I’m weakened to my core with the thought that the disease will overcome. And slowly, I’ve seen that it has. First it claimed her arm… that lead to an amputation. Then, her lungs in two spots. One spot was removed by a lobectomy (removal of that lung lobe)… Then, the last spot — that was supposed to be innocent and easy to control — continued to grow to where the cancer has infected both her lungs again, to where she is on constant oxygen and having fluid drained from her lungs weekly. Then, the cancer came back in what was left of her limb. This is terrifying. My nursing brain tells me this is the end, but the thought of that makes me want to vomit. It makes me want to scream, and throw things and lose complete control. This can’t be happening to a 19 year old. THIS ISN’T OKAY. I’m not okay with this, and I don’t know why the cards are being laid out the way they are. I understand sometimes you need to “take a step back to get a new perspective”, but how does a person who did nothing wrong end up with such a gruesome, terrible destiny. How does ANYONE end up with that destiny? I understand we’ve all got to die someday.. but why can’t we once we’ve lived our life to its fullest, and peaceful without pain? Is that too much to ask…

I don’t know what I will be do if death takes her, I really don’t. I’ve never had to lose someone close to me, and I don’t feel like I’m ready. I know it’s not about me, and sometimes I find myself thinking I would like her out of pain and misery, but I don’t know how to handle this. I want to be 5 years old again and not understand. When the biggest concerns I have was my crayons and barbie dolls. 

why do feelings feel like a roller coaster and suck?

So, this next blog post isn’t the thoughts I mentioned in my previous post, but I feel like I have to write or I may explode.

I feel like I’m going crazy.

Usually I can keep my mood swings in check, but these past few weeks… probably the last month, I feel like I am at a constant war with myself. Especially since a falling out with my supposedly best friend. Sometimes I feel like I have a much of pulling forces within me; one is normal Jo (she’s my favourite), one is overly nice Jo who over-analyzes, can’t be mad, over caring, over sensitive, motherly, and gets herself hurt, and the other is apathetic, I-don’t-care-if-you-don’t, I-don’t-give-a-shit Jo. The past while, I haven’t felt any balance. I feel like I’m at one extreme or the other, or frankly an unbalanced mash up of all three “forces”. Maybe this won’t make sense to anyone, but it doesn’t even make sense to me. I give myself headaches trying to figure it out. I’ve lost my sense of balance and clarity. 

It’s all starting to scare me though. Am I fine? Am I okay? Because I’ll feel fine and okay around people and through the day, then one small, minuscule thing will set me off and change my mood (still manageable however) but the second I get into my room by myself, I’m overwhelmed with the need to cry. And sometimes I will sit on my bed sobbing, having no clue what I’m actually sobbing about. I honestly feel like I am going insane in my own head, and I don’t know what to do to stop it.

I feel like I am at my most fragile point in my life. The most insecure I’ve ever been, which is terrifying because I thought I was pretty insecure when I was binging and purging. The stupidest comment will break my heart, the littlest remark will make me feel like nothing, even if they’re not meant to be making me feel this way. But I don’t want people walking on eggshells around me. I feel like I am worthless, and I don’t know why because deep down I know I’m not. I feel like I bypassed teenage hormones in puberty and they all just caught up with me now just shy of my 20th birthday. 

I don’t know if I’m depressed, I don’t know if I’m unstable, I don’t know anything. The smallest thing will set me off into an upset-pissed-off-fury. I feel distant, even though I’m not. Like it wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t there, even though it would. I don’t feel valuable, I don’t feel loved, even though I AM all of those things. I’m an honest person and like to tell people what I think/feel, but recently I’ve been torn up about “well what if I hurt them? What if you’re being controlling? Are you being a bitch? Do you even have a right to be upset about this?” Do you see how confusing and annoying this is?It’s tearing me apart. And what sucks the most is I suck at words. I suck at speaking, voicing how I feel when I’m upset. I’ve set in my mind that I have to be a rock, no one can see me weak or vulnerable because I don’t want sympathy. You have nothing to sympathize for. But I’m at my weakest right now. I’m vulnerable. 

Sometimes I just want to pick up and leave, not tell anyone where I’m going, but leave spontaneously to some place like Thailand or Kenya, to find myself. To clear my head, to get away. Maybe work on some orphanage. I love the people in my life, but I feel like if I don’t do something soon I’ll end up pushing them all away. That, or driving myself into insanity. 

I’m still alive!

Well hello there friends,
I apologize for being MIA… my last two weeks of summer have been work, work, work and now… I have an ear/sinus/throat infection with a fever, isn’t that just peachy before my only long weekend off this summer? It’s like my body knows — like clockwork — that school is around the corner.

But with my spontaneous sickness, I’ve had plenty of time to not only watch prison break (Wentworth Miller, drool) but to think. I’m too foggy right now from my antibiotics and fever to write, but soon you will have quite the entry! I just wanted to let you all know I’m still alive!

With Love,
Jo

The Truth about Truth

I may be only nineteen (almost twenty — woo!) but in my lifetime I’ve come to learn that people hate honesty. Even though they demand it, they hate it. No one likes the truth. But no one likes a liar either. But unfortunately for the people in my life, I hate dishonesty. Not only that, I’m a horrible liar. 

I fully believe lying or dishonesty is disrespectful in a relationship whether it be friends, romantic partners or families. Sure, there’s appropriate times to like like if you’re planning a surprise party to your old uncle Jim, or a white lie such as “I’m feeling sick today”. But who made you able to decide if someone is worth the truth or not? Or made you the key holder to understand if they would be able to handle it?

I would rather people be honest with me. No matter how brutal. Even if it hurts, at least they had the respect to tell me the truth, and valued our relationship enough to tell me the truth. Whether it be on how they feel, or how they think I’m acting, or whatever it may be. I can understand the truth is difficult to hear, sometimes we don’t want to believe it. But how can you have a good relationship based on lies? Based on dishonesty? You can’t. Eventually you get so caught up in the lies, so confused on what you’ve said and haven’t said or end up becoming resentful that in the end if falls apart and you don’t even really know what you lost because you were too busy being dishonest that you didn’t even know what you truly had.

Honesty is a catch-22. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. At least that’s how it’s been feeling in my life the past few years. It’s like the society dislikes when people are fake, but when they’re truthful and honest, they’re a monster too. Well society, I apologize, because I do not want to be a fake person, and can not be a fake person. 

With Love & Honesty,
Jo

Happiness + Health

If you’ve read some of my previous blog posts (such as my Body Image Sucks post), you’ll see that I haven’t always had the best perception of my body. These past few weeks however, I’ve been finding myself looking in the mirror and feeling satisfied, happy even with how I look. 

I turn 20 years old in about two months, and slowly I’m realizing, I’m becoming a woman. Now, I understand I should have realized this when I spontaneously started bleeding once a month — a cure called, the menstrual cycle (or period) but even in high school and my past two years of university, I just felt the same — older, but the same. Now as I’m reaching the end of my teen years, I’ve come to realize I don’t want to be the size 0 girl with the perfect body, because no body will ever be perfect in the eyes of its’ beholder. 

I love my curves. I love my semi-hour-glass-figure (I say semi because let’s face it, I do have big boobs. I have a small waist in comparison to the boobs, and then bigger hips than my boobs. Not drastically, but slightly pear shaped slightly hour glass). With realizing what I like about my body, I’m finding I’m less stressed out about how everyone looks in the media. Don’t get me wrong, I continue to eat healthy and try to maintain somewhat of a work out (working out kind of bores me, it’s my unfortunate short attention span) but I no longer feel like at this moment, I need to lose 5 lbs. That I need to fit into a size 2 rather than my size 4-6 (which I know in retrospect is not that big, but I’ve had a lot of body issues in the past). I’m realizing I’m reaching my woman body, what will probably stick with me now that my metabolism is starting to slow down.

Don’t get me wrong though, as much as I love my body right now, I don’t think it’s perfect, but I’m not striving for perfection, I’m striving for health. 

With Love & Stay Healthy,
Jo

 

The Truth about Miss Mary Jane

You know what I don’t get? The hype about getting high. I really don’t. I’ve been high before — twice — unfortunately my curiosity of seeing what getting high off “mary jane” was like over powered my values I had since sixth grade. But I guess growing up is also experimenting. And let me tell you, I experimented, and I hate it.

First of all, it tastes disgusting. Literally like someone shit into your mouth, while simultaneously setting your lungs on fire. While you hunch over deciding whether or not you may die because you can’t breathe for 15 minutes, the burning feeling goes away. And yes, I admit, you feel “mellow” and everything seems cooler and tastes better, I understand where the munchies part comes from because I ate my weight in marshmallows afterwards. But after that, there’s nothing. It’s not some epiphany, it’s not some revolutionary thing, so why is it so “cool”?

And why is it such a recreational thing? Rarely now you can go to a party without some jackass pulling out a blunt, bong or papers. People stupidly believe that “oh hey, it’s just a herb, it’s part of nature” … okay, if it’s part of nature, why don’t you just smoke some grass and tree leaves while you’re at it? Since you’re just smoking up some nature! Let me tell you, I work in a mental hospital, adult psychiatry to be specific. 9 times out of 10, the people in the hospital have canabis-induced-psychosis, now boys and girls, do you know what that means?

The weed fucked you up. Literally. To the point you’re psychotic. Oh I know I’m going to hear “Oh I don’t do it that often” that doesn’t mean anything, every body and mind is different. Just because Bob over here smokes 5 blunts a day and he’s doing pretty good, doesn’t mean you’ll be fine with you getting high once a week. We are not programmed the same, if we were we would all have the exact same diseases and our bodies would react the same to everything. My cousin’s schizophrenia came out when he turned 18, because he started smoking “mary jane” at 14. It took time, but it got there, and now he can’t live without anti-psychotics and have normal life. (PS, there’s actual research linking marijuana to the neurotransmitters involved with schizophrenia, just so you know.)

And this whole thing about “oh it’s not a gateway drug”… Yes, yes it is. It’s just like when you first start drinking — you don’t go straight for a 50 year old whiskey or burbon. No, you start with fruity shots like broken down golf-carts, or sugar-induced alcohol like bellini’s. The same applies. You start “soft”, and then after awhile, it gets boring. Because it IS boring. So you look for something else, maybe something like mushrooms, or acid. Try that for awhile, meh not quite the same effect. Maybe I’ll smoke some coke… proceeds into snort, etc, etc, etc. It snowballs, and if you think otherwise I’m sorry, you’re being narrow-minded because I’m naive and even I know this bullshit, not from experience thank god but from others such as family, patients (mentally ill people, literally telling me not to fuck up my life and do something as stupid as weed), or seen it with friends (remember Arie? She started with alcohol, then weed, and now she does a bunch of rave drugs).

So if you want my sincere advice? Don’t do it. Unless you’re trying to induce an asthma attack and feel chill for awhile (why not sit in a hot tub in a steam room, probably has the same effect). If you want to get high, get a good high. Go do something spontaneous, with adrenaline. I promise you that will be the best high of your life. Or do something good for someone. Use your drug money and buy a homeless man a meal — chances are he was you, starting with weed a few years back. Or if you don’t want to help the homeless, donate it to a charity. People are fighting for their lives and you’re being selfish enough to purposely poison yourself.

If you’re being pressured into doing it by your friends, walk away. I understand it’s easier said than done, but if they don’t accept your decision of staying away from it, then honestly, they’re not your friends. Misery loves company.

With Love,
Jo

We are our own enemies.

As each day goes, I discover that I am pretty naive. Let me explain why. 

I have very humanistic values, I believe that people (humans) are generally good and have good intentions. But as I get older, I realize that this is not always the case. Selfishness and jealousy get in the way, intentions become no longer pure but greedy, and hatred grows inside peoples hearts, whether they realize it or not. I know I have it in my heart too, I get that sinking, ugly jealous feeling, unfortunately it’s become an inherent part of human nature. 

It sucks though. Because humans and human nature are destroying the beauty of good for those who still have it in their hearts. Every bit they chip away at the good, it turns into stone until soon, those with good hearts become untrusting, apathetic and cynical. We’re the only race that kills each other out of greed or hate, the only race that tears each other down over skin colour, religion or sexuality, the only race that willingly uses each other until we’re satisfied and move along, like utilizing a kleenex. How could the world have gotten so wrong? What went wrong? 

How could a girl suffering with cancer, turn her back and throw away a person — her best friend — who was there supporting her AND her family through all the treatments, her surgeries, recoveries, laughs and tears, without appearing at all fazed? Throw away the person who strived to make her feel normal, even though her world was not normal for her age, or who fought tooth and nail to have some of her dreams come true, or give her a chance at life when the doctors called her palliative? How could someone suffering with something so heavy, do that over nothing (and I mean seriously, nothing) without even the slightest emotion?

If someone could answer that for me, it would be great. Because then maybe I wouldn’t be in this dazed-stunned-post-traumatic paralysis. Because that girl the cancer patient threw away? That was me.

I want to say with love, but more with sadness,
Jo

Back to School Season

I find that when New Year’s comes around I feel refreshed and rejuvenated, but that only lasts for a couple weeks. Rarely do I ever stick to my resolutions, frankly because I forget what they are… However, I found when “Back to School” season comes around that feels like a new year to me. I may be a nerd, but I love school. And especially school supplies. I
love the structure, the routine, and I am always one willing to learn.

But it’s more than that to make “Back to School” feel like a new year. It’s like starting over. It’s a new school year, new notebooks, new pencils, new clothes, and for some people, new schools. I find that in August, before school starts in September (Canadian start dates) I do a serious de-cluttering of my life. For example, last night I completely went through my room, moved my furniture around and put all the stuff I don’t want in a pile to donate. Today or tomorrow I will conquer my closet.

I don’t know, there’s something in the air around this time of year. Hope. Hope for a new start, Hope to succeed, Hope to achieve your goals, Hope that the summer made you wiser, and that you could figure out more easily what your purpose is in life. It also brings happiness, the exciting feeling knowing you’ll be seeing your friends everyday, or the anticipation of wondering if you’ll make new ones. Fear of the subjects and teachers — ““Will I pass? Will I fail?”.

I’m starting my third year (junior for the Americans) of University. That means after this year, I will be in my final year of Nursing and | | this close to graduating and beginning my life and career as a Registered Nurse. That’s crazy to me, I remember in 8th grade sitting in my desk all awkwardness and self-conciousness, and my health teacher was saying “be careful, from now until you’re an adult — it’ll feel like a blink”. And that was exactly what it felt like.

With Love,
Jo

Recall of the “Golden Years”

Two years and 2 months ago I graduated high school. I liked high school. It wasn’t torture, but it wasn’t the best time of my life either. Here’s a run down of my high school for you, I’m just feeling a little nostalgic. 

Grade 10: I was 15 years old when I started high school, and luckily I went to the high school where most of my friends went from junior high. I remained friends with my long-time-best-friend-turned-sister Bethany (name change). Along with staying so close to Bethany, I met two pivotal people on the first day of Grade 10; Cara and Arie. I can’t remember a lot of grade 10, just that long story short, everyone was getting to know eachother.

Grade 11: This was the hell year. Or well, the beginning of the hellish next two years. Arie and I became really close, especially when Cara started dating her boyfriend Robbie. Arie’s and I relationship was very up and down, thinking of how to put it into words now is almost impossible. Looking on it now, she was a very unstable person in high school and I really don’t mean that in a bad way. Anyway, more later on in grade 12. 

Grade 12: Graduation year. Cara and Robbie’s relationship was so up and down, they would be together and break up. Happy and then fighting, it was all over the place. And it was difficult to see Cara put herself through such a parasitic relationship. Along with Cara/Robbie drama, Arie was as unstable as ever. She began binge drinking and smoking, cutting herself and plotting for suicide. At 17 years old, I was not equipped to handle something so difficult. It was difficult to get through to Arie, she became manipulative and pretty much, a bully. She would be my friend one moment, then rip me apart the next moment. And by rip me apart, I mean really, verbally abuse me. She would blame me for her suicide ideas and cutting. I really tried to be there for her, but after graduation, it became too much. I couldn’t watch her spiral out of control, and she wasn’t accepting the help I wanted to give her. My final straw was July 1st, 2011. That night Arie called my phone leaving death threats and calling me/saying things to me that no one should ever hear.

That summer I completely cut off communication with Arie. It was hard, because I don’t like to give up on people. I watched her spiral downwards even further, and I prayed that she would get back up. I don’t think she will ever be truly okay, at least for the next few years. But we are civil now. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get close to her again, but I’m glad that at least there are some lines of communication, and that for right now, she’s doing alright.

Oh, one thing I didn’t mention about Grade 12… I met the love of my life, NK, also known as Nick. But that’s another story for another blog post 😉
With Love,
Jo