5 letters.

I made my pilgrimage back to this blog- I only read one passage since my departure in 2012, but will summon some courage to revisit more.  Somehow, it seems strikingly appropriate to house some new thoughts here.  

New chapters.  

There are times I feel I've written a few lifetimes worth of chapters in the last 6 years.  There are many themes, some are ongoing, but perhaps the most monumental one was penned a week ago.  I've talked about healing for a long time- the topic woven into everything I have said or done in recent years.  Last week, I moved out of the home that proficiently housed my pain- it was the final symbol of me clinging to a life that was no longer working for me.  This week, I effectively closed the door on the darkest period of my life.  In my home was a mosaic crafted by my experiences with abuse, cancer, and an overarching lack of care for my personal well being.  There was only so much I could reconcile while still living in the walls where so much abuse took place, but a large part of me wanted familiarity with my pain.  The house itself was making less sense as time wore on, was no longer functional, but, truthfully, if I were not expecting, I may have stayed in that purgatory for much longer. I'm grateful to be propelled into a better life, pushed to move on... now an oh-so-recognizable pattern in my life.

The process of sifting through years of chaos was depleting.  There was a graveyard of hidden bottles, including the more extreme varieties like mouthwash and vanilla extract.  The entire basement told the story of a mad (sad?) man who spent days at a time recording music or building computers in a depressing, concrete setting, while draining these bottles and becoming less able to relate to others.  I let the moratorium exist for 2 years until I was ready to deal with it.  My current partner helped clear out most of the things in the basement.  It was challenging to let someone in so close, to allow them to see the evidence and aftermath of this lifestyle.  I read a lot of the personal, historical poems, songs and letters- each of them either making perfect sense or leaving me completely bewildered.  Mostly, it made me incredibly sad and I would weep over the lost potential of a man who is the father of my child.  I felt guilty and victimized all over again.  And then I found something that stopped me in my tracks.

5 handwritten letters, all addressed to me.

I found them in the basement 10 days ago, during a final clean sweep of college papers.  The 4 that were on top were written in an obsessed cursive- someone claiming we were each other’s until death.  I remember getting them and thinking it was just meant to be that way.  That it was my fate, whether I wanted it or not, I would belong to someone else in this prepossessed fashion.  It was powerful being told I was all someone had ever wanted- I was 19 and had never had a real boyfriend; I had never been wanted like that.  These 4 letters summed up what I now view as a toxic, fixated and treacherous relationship, but back then, I believe it brought me a sense of belonging.

Somehow, the most tragic of the collection of letters was on the bottom, as if I was meant to find this forgotten letter in succession after the others.  Few things have affected me so much in my life- I tear up when I think of the words.  They were formed by my Mother, and it was a plea to me; she was reaching out in an effort to salvage our bond.  There she was, pouring her heart out in an effort to be close with me and even suggested we write each other letters to find some common ground at that strained, obscure time.  I know for a fact I did not write her anything, but can’t remember if I even acknowledged being in receipt of her letter.  How is that possible?  

My memory, likely out of protection, prevented me from even remembering when I received it, and truthfully, I don’t remember reading it.  I immediately raced through the decade of reconciliation I had granted myself.  I was so sure things were never this bad.  Only now can I imagine how my family must have felt to watch me slip away in a few short years.  I was always on top of my drug affiliation, always in control of my chaos, or so I thought.  As I look back now, I am incredibly lucky to have come out of the lifestyle I was in.  I was endlessly searching for meaning in my life and surrounded myself with unique, admittedly abstract people who were searching for the same bizarre connection we thought only a drug-fueled night could establish.  When I was told by my ‘soul mate’ that he had found me and we would be together, I hesitated but ultimately accepted.  When the abuse started, there seemed no way to turn back on that acceptance of a mate.  He offered up our future together in such a way that I could only accept him, thus beginning a slow isolation from healthy relationships with my friends and family members.  I take responsibility for the way I allowed it all to happen.  I was mortified at times to have people see glimpses of the reality I had chosen, so I designed a beautifully woven web of airy humour, artfully deflecting any arising questions.  

I was dangerously good at hiding my pain.  

After particularly frenzied nights, and perhaps, more shockingly, days, I would put on a brave face and go about laying on a thick, charming presence.  I would hide that my partner hadn't come home for days, make secret phone calls, including to the police as he was arrested from time to time, and simultaneously live in fear of his return.  All predictability was taken away- any semblance of normalcy or safety, gone.  After a few years, there was no way I could open up about it.  No one would possibly understand it, and I had no tangible way out, so I kept thousands of secrets, lied to everyone and found a way to survive in the fucked up world I had helped create.  I wanted adventure and a unique life, and here I was in the twisted reality of my own secret world.

When my daughter came along, things were falling apart.  There was no way of hiding being abandoned at my parents in Swift Current for a few days the week before my due date, with him taking my car, going on a bender and getting a DUI.  When she was born, the most sincere, but least followed up on promises spewed out.  It would never, ever happen again.  Now we could commit to a better life because he had finally hit a rock bottom.  I could never have predicted the layers of rock bottoms that awaited us.  It was unbelievable how I could be so ashamed and hopeful at the same time.  My cancer diagnosis months later required me to lean on my family even more.  I'm lucky to have the love of a family who waited for me to come back to them.  They never knew most of what was happening, but they knew things were not right and they weren't happy with my choices.  The best thing they could have ever done for me was to make it clear that I could always go to them if I needed. 

As they organized their lives in pairs to either care for my girl or be at my bedside in the hospital during treatments, he flitted in and out of my life.  I was relieved to be in the hospital, in a blank, sterile space.  It felt safer and I could exercise my right to choose his presence.  He rarely offered it, but when he did come, he wasn't sober.  One depressing night following an exhausting chemo cycle, I involved the hospital security to ensure my safety for the night.  Reports came in from mutual people in our lives- he was a lost man those days.  I couldn't blame him, couldn't waste time or energy on it.  I was fighting for my life.

My family endured the awkward on again, off again explanations that followed.  I wasn't sure how to leave but I desperately wanted to stay in my home.  He wasn't able to leave, and I continued to finance almost everything.  His spontaneous income didn't stretch much farther than his habits and attempts to make more money through paid gigs typically resulted in more expenses, due to DUI's or lost/broken equipment.  It was a difficult thing to try to translate to anyone and I shied away from pitying looks.  I wanted to appear capable, and flipped between feeling strong for all I had endured and weak for knowingly staying with a broken man.  Our daughter remained mostly safe, though I look back with repulsion thinking of the first 3 years of her little life and wish for more for her.  Every chance we could take, we went to Swift Current and felt safe for a few days as he inverted between white knuckling it with sobriety and relapsing.  My ultimate departure from the relationship was a calculated one that took months to pull off.  That can wait for another time though...

Being on the other side of that life feels so strange.  I'm aware it happened and I remember the fear. He had broken into the home in the middle of the night after we broke up and I had always felt it could happen again.  I wasn't ever entirely restful and didn't fully feel safe.  The distress and disorder is encoded in me, as my past can not be amputated.  I  suppose I am just growing around it.

My family is slowly becoming aware of all that I went through.  Sometimes I blurt things out, awkwardly wanting the truth to be on the surface.  Other times, I am more protective of it, more methodical about how I share.  They have only been loving and accepting of me, and we continue to have tearful conversations about the breakdown of our relationship from time to time.  I feel blessed to be in this space of forgiveness.  I haven’t been a perfect member of this family, but the unconditional love that exists there is encouraging.  

The day of the move, my loved ones came into the house and slowly, each room became less claustrophobic, less scary.  Clearing the space.  My parents took us out for brunch the morning after and my daughter sat beside me as I recounted the discovery of my Mom's letter, apologizing and crying over all that I missed over the years.  It was simultaneously liberating and painful but I believe we can only move forward.

And I personally can only move forward from the 5 letters.  I am a different version of myself, someone aware of how much I have and how I could never let it slip away again.  In this grisly decade-long process, I have finally found myself healing at the core, where I was the most protective of my pain. 

I am grateful I have enough time to make it right. 

About Life and Death

Yesterday, one of my doctors made an emergency request for an MRI for me.  Everything rose to the surface again- fear of the unknown, etc.  The following is a late night conversation I had with my husband. I realize how bizarre it is to have typed it up, but I believe it is important enough to share, so bear with me ;)

Me:
'I'm sorry for how I've been acting today.  I feel off;  I guess I have for a while now.  It's like I am silently preparing for something.  I feel restless. I'm constantly cooking, crafting, writing, creating, and I don't think I could stop if I wanted to.  I need to be productive and take on every single project I ever wanted to complete.  And when I hug Bu, or look at her, or think about her, I could not appreciate her more.  I love her profoundly.  I'm like that with everyone- I tell everyone how much they mean to me- I'm weird about it.  I have left myself open for all to see.  I talk about my joys and pains in life with astonishing ease.  I've looked back at apology messages I wrote to nearly 50 people last year- ranging in seriousness from things like a silly misunderstanding with someone in high school, to the regretful ways I have hurt people emotionally.  When I was diagnosed with Cancer, I immediately set about making things right with everyone, including myself.  I remember Jeannine telling me a story about a man who had all of his dirty secrets published after he died, and I felt sorry for him.  I wished he had found a peace in his life before he was gone, as I feel those are the opportunities in life to just be genuine.  When you have things weighing you down and you are operating- even unintentionally-  from a wounded place I don't believe you have the focus you need in life.  And the more you share with people, the more you are able to experience with other humans.  Since this whole thing started, I am left with an obvious vulnerability about me, and perhaps because of that, I feel people are reflective with me- sharing trauma they have felt.  I have such bizarre and significant conversations with strangers about their biggest lessons in life, or most enlightened understandings.  The point, I guess, is that I have lived how I wanted to live.  I've met some amazing people and learned so much.  Even being acquainted with this perfection I feel as a family unit right now- I have just always wanted to feel this functional.  And safe.  I know it's a strange thing to say, but I feel complete.  And it kind of scares me.  To feel I have such an intimacy with life and to know who I am so deeply and to feel that I could be ready for this part to be over is so entirely... frightening.  But beautiful.  

Richard:
 'It's been hard to watch you lately.  So determined to keep busy and create.  My Grandpa did the same thing when he was dying of lung cancer, always making things.  It scares the Hell out of me.'

Me:
'I'm sorry.  Naturally, that would be difficult.  I'm not trying to scare you, and I won't give up hope.  If there is a treatment available, I will always take it.  I guess I am trying to be realistic about the inevitable.  It doesn't even matter when it happens, but it does matter if I feel I have done all I feel I should do.  And, I've thought so much about arrangements I would make.  All of the people who we are closest to, all of the people Bu will be guided by.  I know Bu will be okay- I have poured all of my life out into all that I do, and have left so many clues as to who I am along the way. It feels weird to say it out loud, almost like I am tempting fate to even dare mutter about it.'

Richard: (bursts out laughing).
'Yeah! No shit!'

Me:
'I want a BlessingWay when I die.  I want to celebrate it.  I feel it is important to celebrate death the way we celebrate life.  To embrace it, to accept it whole.  I want a ceremony.'

Richard:
'It is a profound thing to be able to do that, if you are aware you are going to die.  To have that ability to prepare in that way.'

Megan: 
'I've often been thankful for the opportunity to be aware of it, grateful for the good fortune to have found this peace.  ...I don't mean to sound self-righteous, you know.'

Richard:
'I know.'

Me:
'Good. I don't want to come across like I feel I am perfect in any way- I am painfully aware I am not.  But I feel I have achieved self-acceptance, now that I finally began living authentically.  Exposing my growing pains in public at every opportunity I can find, you know.'

Richard:
'I feel the same way.  I have done things in life that I should not have done.  But it feels good to accept myself.'



  

Weird and Proud!

Sometimes, I forget how weird I am.  I've always been interested in eccentric personalities who challenge accepted behaviour.  Lately, I have lived in a world where the stakes have been so high with all aspects of my life; I can't seem to escape the awareness of how precious this experience is.  With my ability to live, keep my quality of life, have financial stability in spite of having a disability, to be happy, have any kind of family with my husband (who is doing very well)... I have been walking a fine line and it has brought a heightened sense of gratitude to me.  I value the awareness, but it generally makes me feel disconnected from people.  I have spoken with fellow survivors of trauma and it seems common for people to have a challenging time transitioning back into life.  Especially when I found out the seriousness of my diagnosis, I vowed I would live with more purpose.  I feel kinship with people who are tuned into that reality; the folks who connect with my weirdness are the people I need in my life right now. 

I am reminded of an activity I facilitated for a youth event a few years ago.  We made tie-dyed shirts and then used fabric marker to personalize them.  The group was made up of individuals, some who were diagnosed as having an intellectual disability, and some who were not.  The point of the group was to not focus on labels but get to know each other. One brilliant young lady made a beautiful shirt with large letters: WEIRD AND PROUD! She was fascinated by communication and aspergers (read more about this), and provoked many interesting conversations about breaking down barriers of communication.  Over the years, I have seen her proudly wearing her shirt; I am so inspired by the message.

I try to tone down my communication with people, often having an internal struggle, pleading with myself not to ask weird questions.  I see the purpose of proper politesse, but the odd time, I let my really far-out self shine through.  

Like when I meditate and facebook. Ha. 

I often communicate with little regard for boundaries, but post-meditative Megan is particularly peculiar. I posted a weird profile status on facebook last night, and thought I should write a blog entry about facebook-ing after meditation.  I realize the irony, and meditation typically steers me away from social media. But there are times when I feel inspired to reach out to people.   Tonight, my profile status read:
Time passes and there are many I have not recently shared space with. The ways you have grown, the life you have experienced bear the potential for infinite possibilities. How are you, my Friend?

The beautiful thing was that within minutes, I received messages from people I had been missing, instantly quashing any reservations I had about displaying my weird thoughts for anyone to see.  And, just as instantly, I was inspired by friends who are in a similar place in their life.  It is a tragedy if a person feels self-conscious for being a bit abstract in the way they communicate.  To cap off the night, I updated my status to:

The biggest mistake you can make: hiding how weird you are :)

So, shine on! Have a wonderful day, you lovely crusaders of creativity and curiousness. 

Confessions of a Hypocrite

I have been reading about cancer and other illnesses, disabilities, and so-called defects.  I have read the extensive pathological reports I received from having my cells looked at under many microscopes, studied and mapped out by specialists to discover why I got this squamous cell carcinoma. The exact reason is inconclusive, though it is likely attributed to a combination of things, including cellular damage incurred from drinking a lye-based cleaner when I was seven, environmental causes, genetic predisposition, etc.  A silent part of me feels shame for my own genetic short-comings, but only when I apply my abnormalities to the concept of natural selection.  A big part of me was ashamed to admit that I had cancer because it  would be far more ideal to be a a perfect, healthy human.  Oh well.

My point is this: I likely got cancer because of this advanced world we live in, but it was also treated by, and is in remission, due to scientific advancements.  I believe in natural remedies, but I must also believe in modern medicine. It likely saved my life, though it is a difficult thing for me to accept.  I just went ahead and received radiation and toxic chemotherapy because I was told it was my best chance of survival.  It was my choice to make, and I have had to defend this choice a few times. 

In May, I was approached by the Saskatchewan Cancer Agency to be an Ambassador for a campaign called Touchdown for Dreams.  Being a woman diagnosed with a life-threatening cancer, I was eligible to receive a wish.  I got a kitchen makeover and other home improvements and am grateful for the experience. The campaign highlights a partnership with the Saskatchewan Roughriders and Cameco, a uranium development company; I am literally the face of the campaign, including being on billboards starting this month.  A few years ago, I will admit I would have had nothing to do with it.  But today, I believe I owe my life, in part, to nuclear medicine and the radioactive isotopes produced to kill the cells that were trying to kill me.  It was my only viable treatment option. I haven't found a comfortable way of talking about it, though I have given numerous interviews and have been invited to speak at many functions. On a personal level-  to the people in my life- I just haven't found a way of translating my feelings.  I feel grateful and ashamed all at the same time.  Not only because I gave up some pride and accepted any kind of support, but considering the controversial source, it has made me feel 'off'.  I have been looking into nuclear energy more and more, and while I do not have a scientific background -or, admittedly, a scientific thought process- I have allowed myself to get passed the fear of it. I have to be realistic about the options available. Granted, I have undergone massive change in a short time, and it is natural that I have different ideas now.

When I was making my decision of whether to be a part of the campaign or not, I came to a realization that I am a direct consumer of radiation- it saved my life.  I can't pick and choose when I am okay with it and I wouldn't ever want someone to feel guilty for saving their life by accessing nuclear medicine.  With the campaign, I will be assisting in raising money for other women facing cancer, including helping women in isolated communities to access better medical care through cancer screening and prevention services.  And because of the campaign, I have been invited to assist with other fundraising efforts, including the Choc'laCure Project, which will support the purchase of Stereotactic Radiosurgery equipment for the residents of Saskatchewan.  If this equipment would have been available to me at the time when I needed radiation, I would not be spending the rest of my life with next to no saliva.  It will be an ideal way to receive radiation therapy, as it drastically minimizes the damage to healthy cells.
 
Some may say I am a hypocrite.  The worst kind, likely, because I am shrouded in a facade of good-ness.  I have come out of a huge life change and I must stand by all of my decisions.  But I feel pulled in all directions. I will definitely make the right choices to lessen my damaging impact on the world.  I will be grateful for my opportunities and be an appropriate voice for this small platform I have been given.  I don't need to feel ashamed, and I don't need to apologize anymore.

I am aware of how I may be perceived, but my intentions have always been pure.  I thought I had an unwaivering quality before, when I was so sure of what was right and wrong.  I felt it was my destiny to distinguish between the two: defend the good and condemn the bad.  I no longer believe in good or bad, but I know that my moral compass is telling me I am able to instigate greater change than merely pointing my finger in condemnation.  I want to be a part of the activism promoting realistic advances in cancer research.  I won't hold myself so accountable and stress over how others perceive my direction in life. 

I have thought of the implications with all that I do and I am moving forward with pride. 
I have liberated myself from my fear of being labeled a hypocrite.
My life's purpose will not be hindered by my fears. 

Love and Light,
Megan

Wising Up

I am terrible at being political.  I have ideals but I flip-flop, I am a self-professed bleeding heart and, too often, govern myself by feeling rather than rational thought. (See: Truthiness).  I have taken a giant step back and have needed to focus more on my breath than local, national and international news.  

I am thankful for the folks who analyze political information and are adept at memorizing dates and understanding the inner workings of political playgrounds, as there is an obvious need for information.  I'm just not a key player in this realm.  I no longer need to be the first to read an article or be the resident expert on anything.  I know nothing.  I am a student of the world. I am genuinely trying to be quiet and listen right now because for too long, I gave my opinion without having achieved an ounce of wisdom; I was idealistic, but not very helpful.  

My focus right now: to get in touch with my true feelings on life without listening to all of the background noise. 

Spread the Word to END the Word!

'That retarded chick...'

Today, for one painful moment, my whole sense of self felt summed up in that label.

I was getting groceries with my daughter this morning and forgot my sunglasses on the counter at the register.  I overhead the customer behind me say to his friend, 'That retarded chick forgot her sunglasses'.  I was horrified to realize I was the chick they were talking about.  All I could say was, 'That is one of the grossest words in the human language.  You should consider removing it from your vocabulary.', as I snatched my sunglasses and left the store.  It was only after I methodically placed Bu in her car seat and loaded the groceries in the car that I allowed myself to burst into tears.

I thought about going back in the store to explain how I got my disability from stage 4 cancer and nearly died last year.  The fellow who I wanted to go back and set straight was my approximate age and had garnered a smile from my daughter minutes before he stole my self-confidence.  I wanted him to know who I am and why his words were so ugly.  -I don't particularly like the pet name of 'Chick' either, unless you are better acquainted with me, but I will write about that another time.

I surmised that I should not go marching back into the store mostly because I realized that though the 'R word' is one that I have set to abolish, this issue is so much bigger than me.  I feel disappointed that at this stage in human evolution we have such blatant problems with acceptance.  I've done countless presentations in schools and in our communities to educate children on inclusion, acceptance of differences and not to use labels that can hurt people. I've had numerous conversations with people in bars or in social settings about how one can so easily replace the repulsive words in favor of words like 'ridiculous' to avoid offending anyone.  I have had mind and heart expanding experiences with people of all abilities and feel grateful for the spiritual high I get from communicating with people in alternative methods. I even founded a social group for adults of all abilities and backgrounds called, 'The More The Merrier'. Because I felt so fortunate to have such amazing experiences of friendship through my work, I wanted to invite the world to sit at the same table and talk - or communicate in non-verbal ways (!) - about things that unite us. At its peak, there were over 100 members of the group, and I've always wanted to start it back up... someday soon, I hope.

I have met people who have survived living in institutions, I have friends who were persecuted in public schools, taken advantage of, completely isolated in the community and were left relatively forgotten about.  I have seen some amazing transformations take place when small steps are taken to build a network of support around people and they take their place in the world.  I have seen successes and failures when people try to find a new place to live, work or exist, and I commend the strength that families and supporters have for continuing the 'fight' to have the best possible life for a person they love - I must give a shout out to advocacy organizations like the Saskatchewan Association for Community Living and People 1st for the amazing work they do at a grassroots level.  

Sometimes, acceptance happens the right way- naturally and without an incident where someone is reprimanded or educated on their offense.  I know people who have grown up with a disability and they have simply been accepted for who they are, and it is a beautiful thing.  We should celebrate each other! Damn it, we can't let the 'R word' take away from the advances we have made with Human Rights!

I have friends who have disabilities.  I'll let you in on a secret:  We all have disabilities.  Be it physical, intellectual, mental, emotional... we all have areas that can be challenging for us, and that is okay.  The charm about humans is that we are imperfect. And it is also okay to be uncomfortable with people who are different from you, but I encourage you to keep exposing yourself to the new, so that you can have a new perspective.  I may have been patronizing when I first began working for people with disabilities, for fear of offending anyone, but the more I hung out with people who had alternative ways of doing things, the more I understood the key to true acceptance.  I soon learned that we are all just people.   

I wasn't born with my speaking disability, and it has been something I've had to grow into.  I so desperately want to be normal and speak clearly, especially for my daughter who is learning for herself how to speak; I feel inadequate when I teach her new words.  When I meet someone, it is more challenging for me to just have a conversation like I may have done before.  I find my 'disability' can get in the way.  I try to get around it, but it is there- plain for all to see -and hear.  Have you ever experienced the painfully awkward moment where you try to tell a joke and have to repeat the punch line because someone doesn't understand what you said, or doesn't hear you?  I have that moment all the time now.  It interferes with my nearly-existent humor. 

It is not ideal to share this humiliation with the general public, as I was genuinely wounded by the words spoken so freely by another person.  I have come to believe we really have to be accountable for how we treat each other, and it is never too late to change our ways. This unfortunate interaction makes me feel like hiding from the world so no one else can label me.  I am a mother and I have a responsibility to my daughter, but more importantly, to myself, to remain open and keep on my path of being my true self without restrictions.  And having any hangups with my confidence is just not an option; I have worked too hard to get to this point of self-acceptance.  It is one thing if I question my own worth, but I won't allow someone else to label and evaluate me like that.  I'll keep my power, thank you very much.

If this were to somehow reach the fellow who wronged me this morning, I would want him to know I have already forgiven him.  I saw how horrified he looked when I turned around- he didn't know he spoke loudly enough for me to hear him.  I would also say: 

We should want the best for each other- the better we feel, the better we become, the more we are able to contribute to humanity.  Go out into the world and help advance this human race, one small step at a time.  And leave offensive, confining words like the 'R word' out of your realm.  Don't isolate yourself by offending others- anyone can be your friend.  You are better than that.  And frankly, I expect more from you.

Blessings to all,
M

A Guide to Living Like a Modern Gypsy

The Attitude
The essential attitude: to relinquish control by surrendering to any circumstance that may arise.  Once I overcame the need to adhere to a plan, our travels became a joyful adventure. I used to make a point of adventuring on my weekends off and made an effort to explore new places; I haven't done much exploring lately, as I felt I needed to play catch-up in spending time with Bu.  We've recently had the opportunity to have sleep-overs in the comfort of the homes of our family and friends- we've had early morning visits and we're currently camping in a beautiful, serene Saskatchewan Provincial Park.  I've started to blossom since I've connected with the amazing people in my life, and I have more tracks to make.  I'm fortunate to have time to do so, as I feel an importance in not only sharing with my tribe members, but also in demonstrating this kinship for my daughter.  Long story short, I feel a person's attitude can greatly affect an outcome of a journey... and feeling connected to what kind of experience you seek will impact where you go.


The Bag
I have a bag of essentials with me that has all of Bu's vital items like snacks, a reusable cup, an extra outfit, her harmonica and other toys that are her favorite but are also easily transported -like a few crayons and paper.  Other essential items: water, wallet, sunscreen, hand salve, toothbrushes, a shampoo bar, a couple of scarves, tinted moisturizer, mascara, lip balm, hair clips, my cell phone, fruit and seeds, water bottles, essential oils, cloth sun-hats and a pashmina shawl that can double as a blanket for Bu.  In my car, I keep sandals, rubber boots, cowboy boots, jackets and a small make up bag so we can transform our outfits with ease and be ready for any occasion. I also have a cooler, blanket and speakers.


The Place
Wherever your heart tells you to go.  We are currently out of our home for a month due to renovations (Thanks to the Touchdown For Dreams Campaign) and have time to go wherever feels right at any given time.  We've had the good fortune to have unique interactions with some amazing people!  I've gone wherever Bu seems to feel comfortable, which is where I am also at peace ;)  My parents set up their trailer in Blackstrap Provincial Park, across the highway from our home.  We can stop by and pick up items and still relax in the gorgeous surroundings of trees and a lake.  Bu is a happy camper and would prefer to remain outdoors so we play outside all day; it is such an enriching experience that has befallen us.


The Gratitude
My heart is full and I feel blessed to exist.  I had been so stressed out over so many things before letting life flow in this calming direction. I'm living simply but comfortably- as close to a Romani lifestyle as I can hope to achieve.  Happiness abound.