Can’t serve ya!

Seriously the above is not a statement of what this post will be about. Although I suppose if you ask the customer I did provide her with bad service.

Let me set the picture for you: Southern Manitoba, the last few patches of snow are finally melting. Save for the snow hill which is now a dirty pile of sludge that is slowly evaporating beside the apartment. Everyone has been bundled up in jackets and scarfs and toques right up until last week. Friday to be exact. Today is absolutely gorgeous. I was able to sleep with my window open last night. First time of the year.

Now this is my story:

When I left for work this morning, the sun was shining. There was a light breeze tousling my hair as I locked the door and walked to my car. I was already feeling warm in my sweater but work can sometimes be very cold so I left it on.

Arriving at work, I walked across the parking lot humming to myself. It is gorgeous out. No doubt about it. Checked my phone it is 15 degrees (59 F). It is a glorious day.

I am in the express check out. Put through a few customers all of whom are in a good mood when up she comes. We chit chat about things and I ask how she is liking the weather outside? Imagine my shock and consternation when she tells me that it is already too hot for her. Without thinking this is what shot out of my mouth:

“I am very sorry m’aam, but I won’t be able to serve you.”

She is staring at me as if I am serious and I burst out into peals of laughter. I reassured her that I was not about to send her off to another till. That I was teasing. Finished with her order, loaded it into her cart and sent her off on her way.

And than spent the rest of my day reassuring myself that not everyone was crazy by asking how they were enjoying the weather outside. To which all responded that it was beautiful and other than the wind (which had picked up and was blowing from the north) it was a great day.

March winds have become the end of April winds. Which means that we are about a month behind in seasons here in Manitoba. Mother Nature really needs to get her act together. 🙂

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Within the Darkness

These shackles I wear

they are of my own design.

The lashes against my back,

the hair shirt I wear,

the loop of disdaining voice

played over and over

eroding my faith.

This addiction I feed

this need to sedate

comes solely from a desire to be;

to not feel,

to not face,

the imperfections of my heart.

There is no relief

only brief interludes

where sanity does reign,

but when the darkness falls

and my tears begin,

my soul has already become undone.

Cycles of love and laughter;

pain and fear,

depression and happiness;

they blow through this life,

and some days I am good

and some days I am not.

Within this all,

one emotion remains true.

I am brave

and though oh so scared,

I will rend this curtain

this veil that I wear

and I will find sunlight 

within the dark.

Jay-lyn Doerksen

December 25/17

Missed Chances

Pleasure fragranced with vanilla kisses

sun touched dappled skin.

Two figures wrapped in summer’s embrace

beneath a waxing moon;

gentle touches

and whispered promises.

Castles spun from sugared dreams

dances played across crystal floors

nestled within arms of steel

and hearts found forever more.

Pink hued romance

of a fairy tale once told.

Handsome Kings and

winsome Queens,

play with nuance

a subtle game of hearts

and thrones.

Love can be found 

in niches not seen

but stolen kisses

and hidden misses

a love story make.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

Oct. 18/17

You Know Me

You know me,

the girl with her head in the clouds

dreaming of love and desire

playing all her games with fire.

You know me,

the girl who strives for perfection

whether at home or work

never acknowledging the screams

in her mind.

You know me,

the girl who laughs too long

covering up her pain,

dismissing her anxiety.

You know me,

the girl that you see before you

you think you know me

but really,

you cannot see beneath the surface.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

August 16/17

Stain upon my soul

I wrote this in 2012 on this day. I have been paying attention to my ‘On this day….’ and rediscovering lost words. Picture is also mine.

Begone, beyond, feelings tossed to the moors

frightful, disturbing, unwanted, pain

Rapture, only found with denial, with revulsion

go not into the embrace, but fight for hell.

You say you will forgive me, you will wipe away my tears

you say that your eyes alone, can divine the stain upon my soul.

You say that through you and you alone, can I find salvation.

yet you turn your head, your ears, your eyes

When I do not behave;

how your ambassadors on earth feel I should.

Call me not a coward, nor defiant

you and you alone gave me free will

My choice, my decision, my desire

hurt not others, all shall be good.

Find the stain upon my soul,

enough to curse me.

To send me to hell.

Yet you gave me the ability to choose,

and still you punish.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

August 5/12

 

 

 

T’s turning 9

My little boy is turning 9 on Monday, August 7th. (Just in case anyone is so lost in the summer that they are not quite sure of the date he he he) This is going to be a hard one for me as he is with his dad so I will not be seeing him. I lied. I just text his dad(at 6:50 a.m. on a Saturday morning) to ask him to rearrange plans so that I could at least see T and give him a hug and kiss.

T is not so little any more. He was born two months premature. Due October 4th and decided to arrive on August 7, 2008. We were building the ex’s shop and joke that T wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

I was scared.

When I found out I was pregnant.

Bear in mind I was 35 not 25.

It is a kinda funny story how it all started. At work I had been complaining that my boobs were killing me. Everyone joked that I was pregnant. I scoffed. We had been trying for 5 years, were in the final process for adoption (where they did home visit etc.) but damn when my 3 lb cat stepped on me I nearly killed her they hurt so much. Clue number 1.

I could not understand why I could no longer drink coffee. I wanted it. I would pour my cup and set it down. Take a sip or two and than allow it to grow cold. I love my coffee. There is life in my coffee. And niceness. And civility. Should have been clue number 2.

It was our first new long weekend in February. For non-Canadians, the government decided that it was too long for workers to go from January to March/April without having a long weekend. So in February we have Family Day or as in Manitoba, the province I live in, Louis Riel Day. A long weekend. My ex decided to go snowmobiling. I was excited to have Saturday and Sunday and most of Monday to myself.

Got home from work and set the groceries down on the floor to be put away. When I heard the first growl I snapped around. Oh shit! Odin my cross Great Pyrenees x Collie x St. Bernard and Nero my Rotti were about to go head to head. And I was on my own. I screamed and yelled. I threw a heater trying desperately to get them to stop fighting.

I had Odin on the porch and was kicking at him. Kicking him, hurting him, something I swore to never do. I had a hold of Nero. Almost had the door to the porch nearly closed when Nero surged forward bursting into the room. Now I am in the porch, desperate to pull these two dogs, who combined, weighed 200 lbs to my petite 115 lb frame, apart. They are snarling, saliva is spraying and I am screaming and yanking at them.

Nero hit the stand up tool box that we kept on the porch. Sockets rained down. I was trying to get the door open, because despite the fact it killed me, I needed to get them outside so the fight could end naturally. My socks were wet from the cream that someone had bitten and it had flowed all over the kitchen floor. I was not aware of this. I stepped on a socket and down I went. Hard.

Oh boy. Now I was mad. To top it off, as I stuck my hand out for balance, I managed to stick it in Nero’s mouth as he was in mid-bite. By the time that my brain even registered that I had been bitten, he had already let go and was looking at me. My anger and frustration, fear and tears turned to rage in that moment. Rage that my damn dogs wanted to fight. Rage that I was alone dealing with this. Rage that I had been bitten! I slammed open the door leading outside and screamed at them to get out.

Stood at the kitchen sink washing the wound while screaming out the window for them to stop. The entire fight lasted no more than 2 minutes, 3 tops. It felt like an eternity to me. I got Odin in the house, put Nero on the porch and looked at my hand. Yep, pierced right through fat and oh my god is that bone????????

Called my girlfriend up and she and her boyfriend left the restaurant they were at before they even got their meal, to come and get me. Hospital here I come. They could not believe my lack of fear and stoicism as my hand was cleaned and bound. Heavy duty meds to counter any infection and I was sent home. With a doctor’s note, I was now off work for the week. (As an aside my hand blew up to 3x’s its size and I could not move it the next day, or the day after that.)

Up until this point my periods had been every 28 days without fail. So when I skipped the Sunday after that fight, I put it down to stress. By Wednesday, I was concerned and I purchased a home pregnancy test. Took it and began to clean the house. Completely forgot about the test for an hour. An hour people!!!! When I did remember in I went in to be presented with 2 double pink lines. The first thing I breathed was ‘Holy Fuck man, I cannot do this.’

Called the ex. Called the doctor for a second opinion. They told me to come in as soon as I could pee again. I drank two bottles of water and off I went. I was scared as shit. I had lost my daughter when I was five months pregnant with her. There has never been any answers for me as to why that happened. This was 15 years prior. I was in shock.

T was an extremely laid back baby in the womb. Rarely moved, when he did it was in response to my drinking a Coke (which I had stopped drinking years ago, switching to Pepsi, but he liked Coke. Or I had eaten a chocolate bar) Or when Patches the cat draped herself over my tummy and purred away. He liked that. He was not a fan of anything with processed sugar so I ate a lot of fresh fruit and vegetables.

From day 1 I knew he was going to be a boy. Everyone warned me that saying he was a boy meant that I was having a girl. But I knew. There were a lot of differences between this pregnancy and my daughter’s. However, he had a strong heartbeat, when he chose to kick me they were good strong kicks. Yet still I worried.

Tuesday August 5th, 2008. I worked a normal day. Except I knew that something was off because I barely ate. Got home, made supper which I again barely ate and flaked out on the couch. I was exhausted. Could not keep my eyes open. Something was not right. The ex came in and I told him this as I was preparing for bed at 8 p.m.

Got up at 10:50 p.m. to go to the bathroom. Made it to the bedroom doorway when it happened. My water broke. Now I was terrified. I still had 2 months to go. And it just kept coming. An incredible sense of calm broke over me as my ex panicked. I dressed although by the time I got to the hospital my sweats were soaked.

At emerg I was asked if I was okay to walk down to admissions. My eyebrow shot up. Away I went only to be sent back to emerg 2 minutes later with papers in hand. The hospital is not outfitted for premature births so I was going to be sent to Winnipeg, if in fact my water had broken and I had not just peed myself.

That is right folks. The nurse on duty asked me if I was sure that my water had broken and I had just not peed myself. (Mom I love you and know you have mad nursing skills but I nearly decked this woman). Off I was sent to pee in bottle because well all pregnant women have to pee in little bottles for months and months.

Then came the test to ensure that my water had broken. This one a little more invasive and potentially could lead to infection. And they lost the first one. So I had to allow more invasions only to be told what I had already told them. My waters had broken. Ex was sent home to get me clothes to change into. Thank god I had my book with me. Although truth be told, I would read the same page over and over again.

I was fucking scared. T had been pretty quiet. I was set up on an i.v. drip to, I don’t even remember. I had no one to call. I mean yeah, I could have called mom or the bro. Truth be told, I wanted, I needed a girlfriend who would come running, hold my hand and tell me everything would be totally fine.  My ex was not really helpful in the face of an emergency so there I was deep breathing, trying to control my anxiety and wait.

I was taken by ambulance to St. Boniface in Winnipeg. By 5 p.m. Wednesday August 6th I was dilating and having contractions. Mom got a speeding ticket as she rushed to my side. My bro and SIL came to offer me encouragement. The ex’s mother showed up and wished she could go into the delivery room with me. Also made it all about her. The drugs were wonderful though. No epidural for this girl. No Morphine. They gave me Fentanyl which could be given right up until I went into the delivery room as it did not affect T. Epidural, I was pretty far along in my contractions because I had back labor, might not have worked. So why try?

Again my labor was fairly easy. My contractions were five minutes apart. Lasted a minute. The worst two I had, when T moved into the birth canal and his head popped out. When his head came out I was ready to quit until told all I needed to do were little pushes. Waved my hand at the doctor and informed him ‘I could so do that.’

I had been warned not to worry if T did not cry when he arrived. His heartbeat had been strong throughout labor. But when my little guy arrived and they laid him on my belly, he squalled and screamed. Tears filled my eyes as I reached down and said ‘Welcome to the world baby.’ And he grabbed my thumb and squeezed. 16.5″ long and 3.15 lbs. Six weeks in NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) and then he came home.

Flash forward nine years later. To look at him you would never know that he was premature. There have been no delays in his development.  He is smart as a whip. Funny with a sense of humor that rivals mine. (He also has a dirty little mind that I am working very hard to ignore) His sarcasm is coming to a fine point. And I am sure that by next year he will be as tall as me, if not taller.

And on Monday, August 7/17 my baby is going to be 9. OMG I just realized that next year he will be a tween!!!!! Will I keep my hair?

 

 

 

This Small Slip

You are smooth warm whisky

I, the wine one sips in the moonlight.

Your lips chip away at mine,

Mine possess yours

my tongue dancing over the coals.

You are jeans and cold morning milkings.

I am comfort and words have so much meaning.

I caress your face, pull you closer

please don’t forget.

Time is so fleeting for this dance.

I have wondered, I have dreamed

but I know that nothing can come to pass,

in this dangerous fantasy of mine.

Fingers touch for one last good bye,

do not see the tears that I cry.

Forgive me this small slip

I never meant to end up here.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen
August 4/17