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?

 

 

 

Not really sure….

I am going to apologize in advance. This is probably going to be a rather disjointed and completely odd blog. Basically it is going to end up much like my actual conversations do. All over the place. Because without fail, one thing I am talking about leads seamlessly to this other thing. It all makes sense. At least in my mind, however, I have been known to cause some deep confusion and perplexity. Thus my advanced ‘I am so sorry.’

I have not written much. Have been going through a lot of my older poetry and posting those as they have struck a chord with me. I have been rereading posts on Facebook that I made as I began to recover from my depressive state in 2014. Those have been hard to read. I find myself crying in sympathy for the creature I was. So broken and alone. Even though I was still married at the time, a mother, a daughter, a sister, unfortunately as hard as they tried, they could not really understand what I was going through.

Admittedly that depressive episode sent me on an evolutionary journey. I began to claw back my space, my time, my self. I began to be more confident and happy. I spread out my interests and was no longer afraid to say this is me. I put myself in the forefront as opposed to always hiding in the background. I could finally look in the mirror and not only like but be proud of the woman who was looking back at me. It lead to the dissolving of my marriage as I realized that the man I had just spent the last 20 years with, was not the love of my life. We did not have anything in common besides our son. I am grateful for the child that we created but I am a better woman, a better mother for being apart from him. Much as he is a better person, a better man for being without me. He told me at one part that this was the best thing to happen to him, he could not remember when last he had been this happy. I had a few people say he was trying to anger me, I said I hoped not, because I really do want him to be happy.

In the last year and a bit I have learned a hell of a lot again about myself. One is that I will need to remain on my anti-depressants for life. This causes me a wee bit of a quandary for I write like a demon when I am depressed. The words flow and bite, I have no shortage of ideas. My creativity spirals and dips, clinging to the wall and than breaking apart to dance in raindrops all around me. I know that I can write when I am happy. I wrote an entire novel in high school and no one can say I was depressed that whole time.

Oh wait, it was high school. I was the opposite of popular. But I had rocking friends and really who wants to be a part of the blonde perfection team? Such a hard standard to live up to.

This passed year I have made some huge changes. December 9/16 I quit smoking. My blood pressure was out of control. February 2017 I went back on my meds and my life has been amazing since I crawled out of that black cesspool. July 1/17 I quit drinking alcohol. At least until the end of my holidays on Sept. 10th. I needed to prove to myself that I could.

My father was an alcoholic. He died 13 years ago. Not really missed. I found myself in a pattern of always finding men like him. Incapable of looking after themselves, drinkers, irresponsible. Despite the fact that I would constantly promise myself that I would not be with nor marry a man like my father in all regards I did. Than once my marriage imploded (it did not dissolve amicably made worse by our continued living together until nearly 6 months later) I began to drink. And heavily.

So I made the decision that I was done. No more. T accused me of quitting drinking because Chichi (my mom) was home. I was honest with him and told him I quit because it was becoming a problem. He was stopped by that answer. Every so often I would really like a glass of wine but I think about T and this promise that I have made myself and eventually that urge passes.

I, who have always despised and never really required exercise, have added it to my daily routine. I was given a stationary bike that I ride between 1/2 to 3/4 of an hour 3 to 4x a week. I also have some toning exercises that I have thrown in for myself. Nothing serious, no work out DVD just a few things to tone and shape.

I have also changed the way that I eat. More fish, salad. Fresh veggies. Less pizza, fast food. Eating breakfast. Not sure if this also has to do with my turning 45 this year but it really has been a year of change thus far.

My blood pressure is the envy of mom. I am happy all the time. Laughing. T is with his dad for the next three weeks and I was telling my boss about it. Said to him ‘I have three weeks to do the things I cannot do while I have T with me. And than after that I have him for three straight weeks as well.’ My boss looked at me and said ‘Only you could find the positive in this.’

It took me a long while to compute what he had said to me. And it made me realize how far I have come in the last six months. How much happier I am. How I always have a smile on my face, a giggle or laugh ready. I will retrain my brain on writing happy if that is what it takes. Or it might just be the summer thang.

When I was younger I could only write from September to June. The school year. Do not ask me why. It may be that I love being outside and in the sun during the summer. Friends were always available because well, we were kids. So before I really panic I will wait for the school year to roll around and see if I cannot become more productive in my writing.

Until than I will reread and rediscover older poetry. If it strikes me and makes me think, I will post. I am okay with that. For as I discover this new person who is me, I am patient and willing to bet that eventually, the neural pathways will straighten out and the creativity will once more pour forth from me. 🙂

 

Comin’ Home

***I am unsure of the date I wrote this on so am copywriting it for today. It was my first attempt at a song***

Tears drip down my cheeks

as I lean against the window

Gazin’ out the rain spattered pane

seein’ my past comin’ again.

Chorus:

I left you behind, I ran away

I left you behind, at home you did stay

I left you behind

A foolish mistake

I left you behind and still my heart aches.

 

I sought sunshine

I found pain

I sought laughter, never gained

I sought to escape the life I had

only to discover it weren’t so bad.

Chorus:

 

Locked within a prison of glass

One I made I could not crack

choices I regret, prices I had to pay

I wish that I could take it all back

I wish I could refuse this track.

Chorus:

 

Now I am comin’ home

tell me it’s not too late

I’m comin’ home

baby here’s the date

I’m comin’ home to a heart that’s true

I’m comin’ home to get my due.

 

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

July 8/17

 

 

This will not be an annual thing……

So the muses of my mind have been a little silent. With so much going on within the last week and the need to organize everything I can before I am on holidays next week, they are either taking a siesta or have gone on a vacation of their own. I am missing them a lot and wish that they would return from wherever they have gone but in the meantime I will do my best using my own voice to fill y’all in.

Last week between mom being here for a visit and T finishing off school it was hectic. It was also a long weekend here in Canada. However, our work week runs Sunday through Saturday so my stat was during the week, not this passed Monday which everyone else had off. I was at work for 6 a.m. And when asked if I enjoyed my weekend off I smiled sweetly because truth be told, it was already my weekend off as I had T.

Thursday afternoon I returned mom to the city. Via a massive amount of construction. I sailed through my confidence level good despite the fact I was driving in the city, in two lanes surrounded by angry people and pylons. We made amazing time. Hit every green light until mom stated the obvious. And jinxed us. After that I made every yellow light.

While turning onto Taylor to head to Grant (yes I know those who do not reside in Manitoba will not really understand but that is what google maps are for :)) this jerk decided he was going to try to pull across two lanes of roadway, cutting me off. He figured he was old and deserved it, I figured he was rude and could wait. I won, he called me a nasty name as I stared at him and I smiled. Again pure win on my part. That than lead to a discussion between mom and myself as to why her generation feels so entitled. As though the rules no longer applied to them. Mom was horrified to discover that this is a thing as well as flabbergasted that some many of her generation have become rude and arrogant.

Dropped mom off at my uncle’s with the promise that we would see her Saturday morning up at the lake. Until I returned home and mom started texting. It seemed that my aunt and uncle could not decide what time they were planning on leaving for the lake Friday. Mom was going crazy (like me she likes a time line of when and where and how) so it was decided that after work Friday T and me would drive to Winnipeg, pick mom up and head off to Matlock Beach for the weekend.

(Side bar: Thursday night as I was making supper, T and me are talking. I was making mashed potatoes and the fork I had used to fluff them was covered in white, steaming butter covered potatoes so I stuck the fork in my mouth, tines down to lick it off. The fork got stuck in my mouth, caught behind my bottom eyeteeth. I was frantic. I tugged and could feel my teeth sorta move so I stopped. Visions flashed before my eyes of me having to go to the hospital emergency to have a fork removed from my mouth. I would have sat there for hours while nurses made fun of me behind their charts. I eventually wiggled it free and will never ever do that again. Tines up from now on)

Friday mom wants us to leave by 2 p.m. I did not walk out the door of work until 2 p.m. I also was unable to head home at lunch to get anything ready so when T and me got home I was flying around the house. Dishes had to be done. Garbage taken out. Pack clothing for two days and whatever toys T wanted. T is meandering around the house. I am nattering away about clothes and move your butt when T announces ‘mom the more you rush me the slower I am going to go. And I will forget stuff.’ Grrrrrrrr the logic of 8 year olds.

Finally we left. And I was directed to take a different route to my uncle’s. One that would avoid construction. One that took me via a complex maze of streets, four lane highways, merging and the need to find side streets to drive down. Needless to say, it did not work out well. My anxiety ramped right up. I ended up in the wrong lane and I had to turn. Slight detour. Finally, despite having made a wrong turn again I reassured T I knew where we were and not to worry. I also discovered that unless it involved Minecraft or Scrap Mechanic his skill for detail and remembering pertinent info is still unformed.

Fast forward ahead and we arrived at the lake safely and soundly. T was excited. Mom used me as a mule and I schlepped things in, helped to unpack and than poured a glass of wine. I felt the week’s stresses melt slowly away and I was looking forward to a nice weekend at the lake. Maybe the weather gods would be nice and actually provide us with beautiful weather for the weekend. (They did not the lousy jerks until I was reminded that they required sacrifice, mainly bare skin for the oogling……not when the temperature is only 15 with wind and clouds it isn’t. The weather gods and me just did not see eye to eye although I did show a little leg for their amusement.)

T had an awesome weekend. His friend from last year was out. They spent Friday evening and all day Saturday and evening playing. Still trying to figure out what they found to talk about because neither one stopped once. They created plays and played war games. Who knew that sticks could be the source of great amusement?

Sunday rolls around and we have to leave around 12:30. Sitting on the deck with mom while T and his friend KJ (to differentiate from K) ran around playing. Which is when they spied the pieces from the Ladder Golf game and asked if they could play. Which lead to me having to put it back together. Missing pieces. Small pieces jammed into three way pipe and nigh on immovable. I groused. Mom insisted.

I sat on the ground looking at the pieces. Mom went in and Youtubed a video. Wanted to take all the pieces inside to put together. I glared at her. I swore. I told her as I sat on the damp morning grass that she should just let me be, I would get it. I swore some more, stared at her over the top of my glasses and stated the obvious: ‘If some dumbass takes this apart this year, it is going into the fire next year!’

Took me about fifteen minutes to get the two pieces together. T and KJ began their game while mom and me went back to our crossword puzzles. Me still grumbling under my breath that she had best not expect me to make this an annual thing. I would not be putting it together again next year. (I may buy some compound cement and glue it all together mwahahahahhahahahahahaha)

And than the weekend came to an end. T and me had to leave as his dad was picking him up at 4 p.m. After he text me to ensure that this was his week to have T and what time was he to pick him up at. I sorta stared at that text for a moment or two trying to process how someone would need to be reminded of their week with their child but hey……..

This week has been busy busy busy. I am working to get everything done at work. I have been working out 1 hour and 15 minutes every other day. I have cut all the bad stuff out of my diet, wine, tobacco (7 months for that one!!!) and am working very hard to become healthier and stronger. My energy level is up (as proven by my body’s desire to be up at 6 a.m. today despite being able to sleep in) and my dreams are beginning to return. (Not dreams as in things I want to do but those fun and wacky images that run rampant at night.)

Next week is holidays and apparently the weather gods are suppose to be being kind. Hot and sunny. If they are really kind I may even get into the bathing suit and go swimming in the lake with T. But only if they are really kind.

It’s been One year

So today I did something that is truly out of character for me. I went on a shopping spree. I bought myself new clothing. Work pants yes, but also a cute top/cover up and not only a skirt but a dress. Both with the vibrant colors that I love. Well the dress is a dark plum but it is color. For so long I wore colors that were drab, colors that allowed me to hide and not be noticed.

Each day I gain more and more confidence in myself. Each day I see a better me and I like her. I am happy. Happy! This in and of itself still mystifies me. Happiness was something that others had not me. My ex and me are getting along. Amicable I would venture to say. He feels that it is important for T to be with me mother’s day so he will be coming home early. To make me waffles. Frozen ones because well, he is eight.

I overspent on my budget. M told me not to worry about it. So I am not. Again this is bizarre for me. And than I am at home looking at my FB page and up pops a memory. 1 year ago today was the end of the first week of my life as a single mom and woman. 1 year ago today I began a new chapter in my life and it has been wonderful.

I have grown. I have thrived. I have been hurt, I have been played. But through it all I loved T and myself. I know my worth and I know my son’s. He is my life my love. He is funny and smart, some times a smart ass but he is turning out to be a good kid. I faced the blackness of depression but rather than be sucked into the whirlwind, I fought my way back.

I have started writing again. Poetry mostly. Sometimes my words are stilted and sometimes they just flow. I am able to see now that I am a goddess of worth. That I do not have to settle for less than I am meant to have. Not in conceit but in the knowledge of my worth. I am smart, kinda cute, well read and I like to laugh. A lot. Step up or step back. LOL tonight is an anniversary of sorts.

1 year ago my new life began for real. No more unhappiness. No more despair. Just me and my son. And I have done it.

Cheers. And Happy Anniversary to me.