Everything. Means, Everything.

When I was about nine I broke a china doll, I shattered her face while trying to give her a tighter pony tail.

I was scared for my life.

I knew my parents were going to kill me.

I had been warned not to play with the china doll, but I had a hard time with rules even then.

I was so ashamed.

I worried constantly that I would be found out, that my parents would actually kill me and bury me in the backyard by the birch tree.

Months later my dad and I took our first solo trip to Toronto to see the Leafs play.

We took the train and talked the whole way down, I probably annoyed the crap out of him with my questions and my stories but he sat there and listened patiently with his arm around me the entire time.

I was so happy and so comfortable with him.

It was my nine year old heaven.

As we got closer to Toronto, I can clearly remember thinking......

"this is it, this is my chance to tell him... he can't kill me with all these people around"

The confession started with the words no parent ever wants to hear:

"I have to tell you something really really bad"

It came out in the same sort of "verbal diarehha" way I speak today.

In haste I also copped to the fact I was the one that had called the WWF hotline to hear the macho man randy savage tell me to have a good day.... several times actually... over the corse of a single day.

I know I cried and he held me for a long time and promised me that as soon as we got home we would fix that china doll together and that he nor my mother would not actually kill me and bury me out by the birch tree.

He wasn't kidding either.

The next day he and I went and bought the glue and sat out at the kitchen table and piece by piece glued the china doll back together, all the while my mum stood in kitchen telling me how everything was always fixable."Everything" she kept repeating.

The relief I felt was overwhelming.

I knew it was going to be ok.

I have spent most of my life reliving the same cycle with those closest to me.

My actions are typical when things aren't ok.

I push.

and I push.

and I push.

I live in a dark world alone, with brief phone calls and quick bullshit email updates, and excuses of why I can't come or how tired I am.

But, it's no longer just my parents that can spot this happening.

It is those closest to me.

They know.

They always know.

They know when my mind starts to fade to that dark black part that I can't seem to shake some days.

And what I've learned is that they collectively push harder than I do.

They fight the way into that dark place and drag me out of it kicking and screaming the whole time.

They smother me like you would with a blanket when someone's on fire.

I love them for it. All of them, More than I could ever explain.

Because they know it's not "me".... and they want "me" to be here with them.

The support that I have in my life is not something that is easy to explain....

It had always been there, but a lot like my confession to my dad on the train that day, I just to learn that needed to say it all out loud.

I shake my head in disbelief most days that this is my life because things are good.

Really good.

The darkness still finds its way into my mind.

But they know.

They always know.

And they come to get me.........even when I push.

The Leafs lost the night my dad and I took our trip..... but I think you could have guessed that on your own.

A little bit older, A lot wiser.

I turned 33 on tuesday, and nothing changed.

But there is a change in me that I find hard to explain.

The changes came late on a wednesday night when I saw something clearly for the first time, or early on a sunday morning when I woke up to apple calling my name.

It was never as fast or as easy as I would have liked it to be, but it happened.

I became, however slowly... the person that sits here today.

More confident.

More settled.

More patient.

More alive.

More aware of what and who I want around me.

My birthday itself was a reminder of both the love that surrounds me and the loneliness inside me.

When I shut the door each time people left from a visit, the silence was still there.

It's not as loud as before, and it's manageable but it is still there inside me.

I wonder every single day if it will ever leave me.

If there is something that will change this.

I'm not sure.

I got a phone call from a friend to wish me happy father's day today.

It surprised me.

He explained to me that I'm both roles to my daughter, even if she may see her father....

I am the one daily that is both her mother and her father.

I cried a bit, like I always do when we talk... and realized he was right.

My girl is upstairs where she belongs, sleeping soundly after a day at the park with my parents and a golf lesson from my brother.

We had an amazing day together

Tonight, I don't hear the silence.

two years.

This weekend marked the two year anniversary of this mess starting.

Regardless of the time that has passed, anniversary's of events still get to me.

It is not as consuming as it used to be, but it weights on me. Like when you get a bad case of the chills that you can't get rid of.

I know how much things have changed in the last two years, and I am grateful for how far things have come.

But somedays.... well somedays it still hurts.

Some times I still lay awake at night and wonder how or why.

What upsets me is that i will never ever know the truth.

Recently I heard, you can't find peace until you find all the pieces.

I'm searching.

I am trying to fix what was wrong with me then, and what's wrong with me now.

I am coming to some sad conclusions about who I use to be.

That is the piece of the puzzle that I can fix-- the piece that I was never knew that was broken until two years ago.

I am working on this daily, sometimes by the minute, and when I have it sorted in my head, you'll be the first to know.

That chill that followed me around this weekend was warmed by that beautiful girl of mine.

We enjoyed the sun, and the rain but most of all our time together.

It's full sentences and meaningful conversations on a daily basis here. She likes to pick her own shoes and tell me the colour of elastics that go in her hair.

Lately when I am laughing or smiling Apple will look at me and say..

" look mommy...... your happy"

She sees it, which pushes me to not just look it, but to be it.

She can see my happiness even on the days I can't.

where we are.

Resentment is a dangerous thing.

I don't feel it everyday, but I feel it.

Alot.

Some days I feel it when I am racing home after work to pick her up from day care.

I am never fast enough.

I can never seem to get diner on the table or get changed out of my work clothes or do just anything..... with out a struggle.

Sometimes I feel it when I am doing a million things well, but nothing great.

Like I am never enough.

Sometimes I feel it when I am sitting at my desk at work, wishing I was at home with her.

But I had no choice.

Some days I feel it when he tells me he can't take her on his weekend.

He has a choice.

I don't.

I just need to make it all work.

I need to shuffle things around and back out on commitments.

The resentment builds frustration, anger and stress in me.

I can't stand it.

It is not who I am.

This week something very important dawned on me.

I truly believe that if you are not frustrated, angry or stressed sometimes as a parent, then you are probably not doing your job right.

Most parents are.

Most of us are constantly any or all of those three things at any given time.

What I am feeling is ok.

It's right.

It is where I am right now.

Recognizing this makes me hopeful.

just another one.

I want to be able to tell you i am ok everyday, but I am not.

I still struggle some days, and I still feel weak others.

It is days like tomorrow that I find it hard to deal with.

It's mothers day, and I am a mother that will have her daughter with me all day long.

I am grateful.

Beyond grateful that I will be able to spend the entire day with my best girl.

Beyond grateful that I have friends and family, that will call not because they feel sorry for me, but because they love me.

But days like this are a constant reminder of this life that was meant for three, now being lived by two.

I feel a tremendous amount of guilt even mentioning something so seemingly trivial.

My brain tells me to push this out....

My heart reminds me just how alone you can feel.

Even when your not.

Not her. Me.

As I lay in bed tonight I hear the same music coming from her room that I have played for her every night since she was born.

It tones down the sharpness of the dogs bark and makes the sound of the washing machine fade away in the distance.... but mostly it is a familiar sound that both of us like to hear at night.

Being here has settled us both. We are calmer versions of who we were a few months ago, very quickly we have gotten use to this new routine.

I am back to work four days a week, and she is with her sitter and my mum for those days.

She has come leaps and bounds since day one.... now going with out much fuss, and enjoying her time while she is there.

I have not.

I miss her.

I miss her so much every day that it is painful.

I cry most days at some point, when I look at the time and wonder what she might be doing, or when I think of the way she ate her breakfast like a big girl in the morning.

Mostly I just wish it was me that could take her to the park or open her raisin box.

Mostly I am resenting the person that took that away from me.

I understand the bottom line well.

This is what happens; this is what has to be done; this is the sacrifice that I have to make;

But I miss her.

My god do I miss her.

I have been blessed with an amazing boss, and a great work environment.

They are BEYOND accommodating to my situation, and they are 100% on board with my "apple comes first" attitude.

I have also been blessed with the most amazing parents.

They pick up the slack and more on a daily basis.

Not a single day goes by when I don't regret being an asshole to them when I was a teenager. (and maybe early 20's... ok and maybe my late 20's early 30's.... come to think of it I was probably an asshole baby too)

So, I get it.

We all have to do this, and it sucks..... and not many people are as blessed as I am.

I will get through this.

I should also probably re think how much of an asshole I can be.

But that's another blog.

A letter to my friend.

I know you are not ok.

The truth is you won't be for awhile.

I know that you are in more pain than you ever thought possible.

The truth is this is the beginning of a very long road.

I know you just want to hit rewind and get it all back.

The truth is there will come a day when you won't want any of it back, you'll just want to move forward.

I know that some days it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to get out of bed.

The truth is you have to, for those two beautiful children of yours.

I know that you are blaming yourself for all of this.

The truth is none of this is your fault... you have always been a dedicated wife and mother who never wanted anything more than the best for her family.

I know that you don't understand.

The truth is you never really will.

I know you think it will never be the same.

The truth is it won't... it will be different, then better.

I know you feel alone.

The truth is we all do, but none of us every really are, there are so many people who want to be here for you, not just through this... but forever.

Most of all I know that you feel lost.

The truth is you are.... but those two children are your map.

You will get through this.

I promise.