It’s been a weird few months. Not sure if you’re all up for an individual pandemic mental health tale, but here it is. At many moments, I have felt like hiding, fading into obscurity. Checking out. Running. In the wake of the closure of The Pace, I was desperate to get out of dodge. My plan was, do a mini reno on my (rented) place and sublet it for a couple of months, run away to Mexico and write a…
One of my ultimately favourite Christmas memories is coming home to find that Laddie, our incontinent, geriatric Border Collie had pulled over the Christmas tree while we were visiting family, and given his regards to a variety of regions of the pale blue living room rug. My sister, who takes painstaking care in the details of each and every holiday, was frantically dismayed at this desecration of our Christmas vignette. Wild eyed, she flew around the room, yelling, crying…
I have two things in my heart and on my mind right now. Creative Coworkers has a chance to grow our community, and be in a physical space that will better serve the needs of our community. We’ve found a place that is amazing, and have made an offer. It’s the next step for us, for all of us – but it’s currently in jeopardy, ironically because we reached out to our community for support. Having launched a crowdfunding campaign…
I find myself at the crossroads of a bit of a shitstorm, and writing is cathartic for me, so here goes a big long rambling about the last week of my experience, and a bit more. Hopefully by the end you understand how these things are connected to each other – it’s a bit convoluted but I am working towards a point. I started Creative Coworkers to provide space to folks who have difficulty accessing space – whether because they…
I had an experience today that I feel compelled to share, even though the thoughts are a bit disjointed. That’s how I’m feeling – more than a bit disjointed. As some of you know, I coordinate a cannabis based opiate substitution program near Main and Hastings. Today, someone in the hotel next door fell to his death. I went over to make sure the staff were ok. His body lay on the sidewalk under a yellow tarp for more than…
A family member, my cousin, passed away this weekend. And it made me reflect again on the experience of grief. It seems to me that grief is like this thing you have to hold, like a bowling ball. Sometimes you feel strong, and it seems light. Sometimes you try to hand it to someone else for a minute. To varying results. And sometimes it’s so fucking heavy, and you’re tired. And sometimes it feels good, the weight of this ball,…
I have a lot of words in me, and I always feel a bit awkward posting them here. You may notice a theme or two, though I try to keep the closer stuff to my self, and to my heart. Family gathering days are different after you lose a close family member. My mom told me she had a terminal diagnosis on her birthday two years ago. Her birthday was September 11th. She took her last breath in July of…
Holiday shout out to everyone who’s missing someone. Holidays take on a different meaning after loss. And even if you’re surrounded by family, friends and love, loss and/or separation brings with it an absence, of history, of possibility, and of occasion. I’m not a big fan of celebrating thanksgiving, or Christmas for that matter. The social and political impact of the history of these holidays is very much at the forefront for me. I prefer to celebrate the seasons, as…
There’s this thing, that’s going on for me, for the past year. The death of my mother. Which has an empathy shelf life, and is a strange thing to talk about/address. I had, in many ways, a really weird relationship with her – she was manic a lot of the time, in our last years together. I didn’t always comprehend her way of coping with the world, her approach. But I’ve come to understand that it’s a part of me,…
A note about firsts and lasts at this time of year. Sometimes we receive the blessing of premonition, and sometimes we don’t. Sometimes that’s an awesome thing, and sometimes, not so much. The marking of time is a funny thing – we log our “bests” and our “worsts” – years, seasons. All dependent on a mostly arbitrary noting of time. My mom had a remarkably cheesy woodcraft sign that said “these ARE the good old days” that she referred to…