Connect. disConnect. reConnect.


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On the negative: I got slammed against the proverbial wall again. Big time. Completing my GBC Community Worker course has been taken off the table.

Unnecessarily so.

Utterly and bitterly so.

And a rage welled up inside of me last night that threatened to swallow everything around me today. I wanted to break something. Feel the satisfying release of shattering something into a million tiny pieces. Destroy it. Like my immediate plans to finish school. And all because of another’s emotional baggage. Insecurities. Fear. Mistrust. And inability to accept the necessary changes gracefully and selflessly.

So fucking done with that!


You have NO idea how done I am with that!


This was supposed to be a fucking defining moment for me.

Astrologically. Academically. Emotionally. Personally. But noooooooo!

So, instead of trashing myself or my space, I went for a long walk today in this fucking balmy 16 below Barrie weather to clear my head and regroup. I kicked a lot of fucking snow around and whipped a few snowballs at many a poor hapless tree. And when I calmed down I went home.

And doused.


And once more, without any hesitation and a wide resounding circlular “NO”, my Guiding Spirits told me that returning to school is not my path. I now have to agree. Since it’s becoming harder and harder to achieve what I thought was a simple enough goal, peacefully and without major mishap.

On the positive: I am grateful for the introduction to the Ojibwe prof teaching the Urban Aboriginal elective I chose. A wise and insightful man. An elder. He has offered to help me along on my spiritual path of seeking connection to my native Ojibwe heritage. To help me find and then heal my Native identity.

Something I have longed for for years.

In so many ways I am one of the displaced Aboriginals. Adopted out of one culture and placed in another. Having no say in this decision which has left me without a place to call home. No sense of belonging. No sense of purpose. No sense of culture. In essence, no identity. I am neither Just Canadian. Just African Canadian. Just Ojibwe.

I am all three. And still culture-less. How can that be?

Yet, the only thing that has ever resonated deep within are my Ojibwe roots. My connection to the earth, the sky, the water, the land, the Universe, the spirits…the very air we feel and touch and breathe…have been apart of me long before I even knew I had Native roots. I have always just known an affinity to the beauty and soul of Native culture and it’s people. These roots ground me. Connect me to this earth. This culture instinctively touches me the way no other culture has.

I am a part of it. It is a part of me. It is my spiritual skin.

And I have never understood this fully, until now.

Maybe that was the sole reason for my one week return to school? To meet a man who can help connect me to my native Ojibwe roots? Or simply to give me a powerful reminder that they exist within me. In my heart. In my soul. In the very blood that pumps through my veins. And I need to flesh them out.

Either way. Once again. Something is in the air. I can feel it. My fucking defining moment has NOT passed…

The  last time I posted that I felt a shift in the making, it was the mother-load of landslides! But this time, I’m not going down without a fight. I was completely thrown off balance in the last 24 hours because of her reaction. To this abrupt and unexpected disconnect from my goal. But, now that I am calm again and in control of my urge to smash things to fucking smithereens, I have to believe that there’s a reason for this too.

My dance with the Universe is not quite done yet.

There are still a few more…

disconnects. disappointments. reconnects. realizations.

I just need to manage all of them. Understand the reasons. Learn the lessons. And move forward.

I am growing. Regardless.

And I remain proud.


Native Americans see the butterfly as the symbol of change, the soul, creativity, freedom, joy and color. Their power is transformation, shape shifting and soul evolution. They represent the element of air, quickly changing and always on the move gracefully. Butterflies are messengers of the moment. They remind us not to take things too seriously and to get up and move. They teach us that growth and transformation does not have to be a traumatic experience. It can be spiritually uplifting and joyous.


Maybe being a butterfly isn’t so bad after all. It’s all about perspective, yes? :)

Namaste and Miigwetch



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Woah. I’m either up incredibly early or the sun is incredibly late! 7:10 am and it’s still dark? Been a while lol.

But seriously. Who does this shit willingly? I don’t think man was meant to be traveling in iron carriages on cement pathways under the stars. And the incredibly somber and sleepy eyed are confirming this belief.

School feels like an old friend I’ve returned to after a long haitus and I’ve been welcomed with warm fuzzy love from alumni. It’s good to be me :)

Kate is still incredibly stressed and conversation with her at night was awkward. She’s uncomfortable with this whole scenario and isn’t doing well with missing me. Sigh. Dulls the shine of my excitement in returning to school somewhat, but I understand that I alone am to blame for her insecurity and concerns. I just don’t know what to say to reassure her that I am where I want to be. 24 hour reassurance is not my thing.

Deeper sigh.

I head back tomorrow around 7 pm, so maybe my arrival in Barrie will inspire more confidence that this commuting/absent 3 days a week thing can work. I sincerely hope so. Otherwise this whole experience is going to incredibly painful!

Have you noticed the word “incredibly” is themed in this post lol?

Ok. Campus in sight. Good morning world and fellow worldites! It’s gonna be a great day!


Healing Pandora: Done?


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ya, this year started with a BANG, a THWAK and a really big KAPOW Batman, but it also…


can’t write it.

she’s not the only one who is stuck.


SO, instead. good news! :)

school starts again in 2 days! with a lot of help from the Universe, i will be completing my Community Worker program and graduating in June! i am thrilled with this turnaround cuz just days ago i was still battling with the to-go-or-not-to-go thing. sigh. but ultimately, it was astrology that made the decision for me.

apparently – and i say with tongue in cheek and rolling eye – gemini is infamous for not finishing what they start. we get bogged down in the pysche. our natural tendency to bore easily is definitely a problem. and our insatiable thirst for experience of all kinds makes us compulsive. so even tho we have the best intention, we lack follow thru.

i have had this pointed out as a trait on many occasion. depending on who is saying it and how they are saying it, i take it as constructive and an opportunity to learn, or i take the defensive and quite frankly say “fuck you!” (apparently we gemini are also uber sensitive to criticism, so you have to choose your tactical carefully and deploy it with kindness). so to those who have commented on this natural energy of mine, i say, “it’s written in my stars! cosmically i am intrinsically embodied with the Moon/Pluto, Uranus/Mars, Sun/Mercury, and Jupiter/Saturn conjuncts in my personal piece of the sky. so what’s a sensitive, impassioned, impressionable girl to do!”


not jiving as celestial excuse?

okay. OKAY! i will take responsibility and claim ownership of this deeply and personally dissatisfying trait. i do NOT want to be that person. and i have decided that little patch of the heavens does not have to completely define me. damn it!

the plan?

my “life promise to me”, as i prefer to call the plebian resolution now?

to only begin what i will follow thru on. to know and respect my limitations and embrace them. not just for me, altho this decision is purely self motivated, but also for those i inadvertently hurt or disappoint with my Mercurial Ruling/Venus in the First House/Sagittarian MC and Pisces Rising (???who knew) butterfly-ness.

that’s it for now.

for me. this is HUGE.

gotta go. need to do laundry, find those never cracked but dusty textbooks from last year, pack and mentally rehearse and prepare. spending 3 days a week in TO will be a challenge in itself. flesh still raw. heart still bumping in the night. kate is afraid. but trusting. concerned that the temptation of proximity to p again will test my resolve. that one day i simply won’t be at the train station to be picked up. i admit i am conflicted. the heart is a brutal task master. but i can do this. correctly. just need to stay focused on my goals.

school. study. graduate.

the living will happen all by itself.

and so will the breathing.

it’s my time.




are you writing for me, sweet felicity? for her? perhaps there are darker forces at work ;) resonating here… beautifully written as always.

Originally posted on The Dark Night Chronicles:

Maybe we did fall from the stars
Maybe our paths are what drove us apart
Could be all those things were true
That you said I put the two of us through-

But what about me?

What about the tears you missed?
The quiet breakdowns I thoughtfully hid?
What about the cuts you left
To scab and scar this heart, my gift?

What about those?

So maybe the door I closed on you
Had little to do with who you thought you knew-
And maybe the piece of me left to hold
Is the ghost of a girl without her soul-

What about her?

View original



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At 11:58 p.m. on New Year’s Eve you couldn’t control the impulse to send me a text telling me you loved me. Even though you knew how that would affect me. Even though you knew I would be with Kate and that it would wreak havoc with my emotions to see a text from you.

With those words.

At that particular moment.

After such a long absence of any real communication.

And now I am a prostitute.

I believed you would hate yourself in the morning. I believed you would be full of your Catholic guilt and self-recrimination. I believed you would beat yourself up over and over for your momentary weakness. And I foolishly believed I understood where that need had come from. A place of love and the shared connection I thought we had. I even understood the impulse. And forgave you for the upset you caused in my personal life. Yet again.

But the truth is. You simply didn’t care. Like a spoiled child you acted without any real concern for my heart. For my weakness. Of you. For my life. For my moment. With Kate. For anything other then your own selfish need. You just hit SEND and damned be the aftermath of your thoughtlessness. Your proclamation of alcohol towering your defenses? Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing, Pauline. You never get that drunk. You never let yourself get that out of control. I do know that much about you.

And now I am a prostitute.

I wasn’t going to read your last post. I searched for it, as is still a foolish weakness I will squash immediately. Hoping for words of encouragement, compassion. Anything friendly. But when I Google’d your blog and read the first lines written, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t open the page and read the rest of the words I knew would fill me with pain. So I didn’t. I waited until now. Until this moment. Until I felt strong enough to read what I already suspected would be there. I knew it would be filled with… Well, exactly what it was filled with. You did not fail me in this. But I didn’t expect you to call me a prostitute. Nope. I confess. Didn’t see that one coming at all. And then it hit me.

You don’t love me. Not real love. Not love as love was created.

If you did, you would never have put that out there. You would never have written something so cruel and heartless to me, knowing exactly how and where that would hurt me. I know you have the capacity for great meanness. For brutal manipulation. For using and then throwing people away. I just never ever thought it would be directed at me in a such a deliberately cruel manner. Ever. I should have remembered how much you like the taste of the jugular.

And now I am a prostitute.

In this moment I am numb with the enormity of this shift in understanding.

To this very day, literally up to this very moment, so many well-intentioned people have been trying to council my choices concerning you. Telling me that I don’t see the truth of who you are. How damaged you are. How broken you are. How incapable of loving – unselfishly loving – you are. They say I can’t see this because I am so in love with you. That my love blinds me to your true nature. But I refused to believe them. Refused because I couldn’t understand how someone who could make me feel so good, so desired, so wanted and loved, and who I loved so passionately and with such conviction, could be bad for me. Refused to believe that even though you were broken and damaged, amazingly far more then me, that you would ever purposely hurt me. That it all came from a place of insecurity, abandonment and self doubt. That you only hurt me because you felt unworthy of being loved. That you were scared of love. That you didn’t trust love. And that it was that deep, inherent fear and inability to trust love that made you lash out at me. The woman who offered you the very thing you feared the most.

And I forgave your inadequacy because I am human and flawed as well.

But you never forgave me mine.

And now I am a prostitute.

It took me a long time to get here. To this place of real and almost deathly calm acceptance. To understand, that to you, I am a disposal person. Your late-blooming lesbian virgin toy. Played with until I no longer served a purpose. That my heart and my love meant nothing to you. That like a cruel master, you couldn’t help but kick the loyal and loving puppy that stuck by you faithfully. Even after you threw it away. Especially after you threw it away. How pathetic I must seem to you now. I just couldn’t accept the truth that I had been so wrong. About you. About us. About what I felt when you made love to me. About what I saw in your eyes when your underbelly was showing. How could I have been so wrong? How could I have been so wrong about someone who touched me so deeply? I still don’t get it. I suppose I never will. But I accept the truth now. I was wrong.

I believed in you. All of you.

I loved you. All of you.

And most of all. I trusted you. Really trusted you. With me.

And now you call me prostitute.

Fuck. Me. Wake. Up. Trish.

I am trying not to be bitter. I don’t want to carry that poison inside of me. I am better than that. I deserve so much much more than that. You never appreciated the gift of me while I was with you, and you sure as hell don’t appreciate me now. That much is painfully clear. So much misplaced loyalty and love has been spent and obviously wasted on you. Misplaced longing, wanting and dreaming. All culminating in misspent tears and hurt and suffering. God. So much suffering. Over you. I am such a fool.

But I can not fully regret you.

On my part, it was real. My love was honest. Pure. I gave you my heart freely. You used it. Abused it. And then you selfishly, almost childishly threw it away. Broken. Beaten. Even more damaged then it was before. It was mine to give, but it was never yours to break.

So I’m taking it back.

You never deserved it. You never deserved me, Pauline. I am a gift. I am a treasure. I am wonderful. I am beautiful on the inside and out. And I am loved for who I am. By those who truly matter. By those who want nothing but to lift me to heights of happiness and genuine love and peace. By those who would never, ever call me prostitute. No. Matter. What.

I wish you had never ripped off the rose colored glasses. I liked you so much more from that perspective. I saw your imperfections and loved you in-spite of them. I saw your starving cat syndrome and wanted to satisfy your hunger. I saw your need and wanted to fulfill you. I saw your  mistrust and wanted to assure you. I saw your goodness and tried to coax it into the light. I saw your darkness and accepted it as part of you. But most of all, I saw your hurt and wanted to love you.

You were often cruel. But you were beautifully human. To me.

Now you are just cruel.

And call me a prostitute.

So no.

In answer to your question.


I don’t want this in my life. And since pain and judgement and cruelty is all you have to offer me now, I don’t want you in my life. And I never ever thought I would honestly mean that, let alone write it out. Here in black and white – without any shades of gray – for you to read. I think you want me to hate you now. And that this is how you hope to achieve it. By being hurtful and unkind. Perhaps, you do this so that you can justify the tremendous hurt you caused me. And to some degree. It has worked. After this post I doubt I will ever write another to you. And after I hit PUBLISH, I will move on and into a much healthier and happier place that will no longer include you. I will exorcise you from my heart and look back on this experience, some day, and think of you with bittersweet memory. I can’t turn off my heart like you can. And I can’t throw people away like you can. Nor will I ever sit in harsh judgement the way you can. But, I will no longer live in regret of something I never had in the first place. You are truly the greatest lie ever told to me. And you told it so convincingly.

Well done, baby. Well fucking done.

I wish I had never given you my heart as fully and as completely as I have. You have been the most difficult lesson for me to learn and the hardest one for me to overcome. But I will overcome. Because I know how to love. And I know how to forgive. And knowing that I am deeply loved by people who truly have my best interest in heart, gives me the strength to move past this hurt and betrayal. I feel sorry for you and your inability to let yourself be loved and to love in return. Truly love and give of yourself without expectation and with sincerity. You can’t have one without the other. That’s not how it works. But you are sooo stuck in your fantasy world. A place where everything is perfect. And nothing and no one ever touches you.

Wake up before it’s too late, Pauline.

Real people are not perfect.

Real people will let you down sometimes.

Real people will hurt you sometimes.

But real people will love you.

Touch you.

And heal you.

And fill the deep empty void where you hide your heart. People are not disposable, and damn you for thinking they are. We are not toys. And our hearts are not made for you to break. I don’t think you are a horrible person. You truly are a product of your fucked up life. You simply don’t know any better. And you never moved from the victim to survivor mentality. You still remain the victim. And for that I feel sad for you. You have missed out on so much of the good stuff life has to offer. And that is the real tragedy here. But still, I have it in my heart to wish you well. And sincerely mean it. Even as I begin to wash my heart, body and soul clean of you. Your energy is not good for me. You can not put this much hurt out in the world, and not expect any back. That’s just not how the Universe works. Karma doesn’t forget.

As for me…

Amazingly. I still believe in people. I still believe in love. The forever kind. You haven’t taken that away from me. Even with all the pain you have given me. Even in my weakest moments. I will never give you the power to make me doubt that I am worth loving. Never again.

As for you…

You’ve destroyed it all.

My dream. My want. My love.

I am completely drained of needing you.

Utterly exhausted by this love.

I have nothing left to give you.

I was wrong about you being my forever.

She is still waiting.

For me.

To love me in all my shades of light and dark.

Because I, Patricia Ann Wilkinson, am so fucking worth loving!

angel carrying

And the winner is…….tough love.TKO


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this was written before the 11:58 pm new years txt from you that said

“i love you”


you are tough love personified.

mother, father, judge, jury, prosecutor, jailer, and hang man.

i can no longer stand trial.

i am stepping down from the box of defense.

you have pointed out my flaws, incorrectness, weaknesses and mostly.

where i failed you as a partner.

i tried. i really really tried.

you will never know how much i wanted to be your person.

your love. your forever.

your lobster.

i am nothing if not dedicated to my love. it doesn’t happen often to me.

but you have made it clear that i am no longer a viable option for your love.

for your attention.

for your affection.

for your heart and soul.

for your friendship.

you made that clear a year ago but i refused to listen.

to hear you.

really hear.

to understand what you needed.

because i still needed you.

but i understand now.

i hear you now.

and the silence is literally killing me.

but it worked.

i get it.

and so.

this is my last personal blog writing for and of you.

you have ruled mercilessly.

stuck to your convictions relentlessly.

and kept the door painfully shut.

no matter how many times i tried to kick it down.

i didn’t want anything from you P.

just kindness.

that’s all i ever wanted from you.

and perhaps, compassion.

i concede defeat. the victor has been proclaimed. no denial.

you win. total t.k.o

i’m getting up. rising again.

i need to begin 2015 with a new light. a new hope. a mending heart.

not because i don’t love you still.

quite the contrary.

i sincerely hope this is what you want.

i sincerely do.

because it was never what i wanted.

i loved you so.

as best as i knew how.

which i realize now wasn’t good enough for you to be happy.


you are free.

i am releasing you from the burden and anxiety

of my presence in your life

in every way i can.

you offer me no other choice.

like i said. tough love.

delete me now.

breathe deep, my first, my only, my forever Pisces love.

and swim.


my succubus, my muse


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the sweetest temptation

you will ever know

awaits in her amber eyes

with her insatiable hunger

she drains your will

to resist her erotic beguile

the softest lips

full, luscious and wet

kiss your hemorrhaging heart as she smiles

seductress in Venus

you stand in defeat

the victor proclaimed, no denial

a temptress, a demon

she feeds on the darkness

that swirls in the spaces you hide

translucent skin

blood-flushed with excitement

from the sweet elixir you provide



she lives renewed

from the drain of your source

amused, then bored, but satisfied

she releases, you’re free

but powerless to go

and plead for merciful demise


you’ve succumb to the thing

your addiction complete

a slave to her passion, unchained

but no longer desired

no more the obsession

you are nothing but the past in her way

she dismisses completely

leaving no role in her life

you were a short dramatic piece

the game continues

you’re no longer the prize

and you pray for the pain to cease

hungry for scraps

of the passion you felt

you helplessly watch from the shadows

indignant, self loathing

the weakness offends you

but the shame of this feeling is slow


acceptance is painful

exclusion is cruel

but her fantasy breathes

without me

Para ti mi amor , mi única .


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Usted no va a dejar que me diga las cosas que están en mi corazón. Sólo la palabra más básico hablado y sólo en tiempos de necesidad más profunda Así que escriben en este atractivo, misterioso lenguaje ‘ m aprendizaje y dicen lo que no está permitido decir.

No estoy a la deriva en un mar de emociones profundas y tú eres el único que me puede salvar de ahogarse. Me aferro a esta vida con la esperanza de que un día me hablas de nuevo con kindess y amor. Como una vez lo hizo. Verme de nuevo. Como una vez lo hizo. Ámame una vez más. Como una vez lo hizo. Sin miedo y arrepentimiento.

La esperanza es todo lo que me queda. Esta esperanza que vive en lo profundo dentro y nunca disminuye , sin importar la hora. No importa cuánto tiempo aparte. No importa donde pongo mi cuerpo, o cuyas manos tratar de convencer a mi amor … siempre todo lo que quiero es usted. Mi amor. Tú eres mi corazón y mi amor verdadero. Ahora . Y para siempre . Sepan que esto es cierto.

Me importa tanto. Y si muero mañana , me gustaría que sepan que cuando vivía , usted fue el primer pensamiento en mi mañana y mi último pensamiento de la noche.



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