Is it truly possible

To be smack dab in the middle?

To be caught

In the exact second

Between Now

And Then?

I am sitting in the midst

Of the most beautiful horizon

Neither bound in spirit

By up or down

Just basking in the twilight

Of the most heavenly Divine.

Moving stealthily  among  shadows

Of ancient times

Witness to the millionth tribunal

Of wind and grass and trees

I hear their secrets

In the swirling mists of dawn

Entwined in the ripple and stir

Of the silent lake

I float

In my yellow canoe.



I listen.


I see.

Surrounded by the knowing

I feel it’s truth

Yet I am weighted in the mis-belief

That if I rock just ever so lightly

This way

Or that

I will drown in the depths

Of uncertainty

Forever grasping at the lifesaver ring

Tossed in carelessly

A habit of late

Without thought or consequence

By a soul who has no measure

Of who I really am.

Or what she saves.

Or why.

In this moment

I believe in the Universe

But, in love

I am in no true state

Of trust.



That gray cloud of disconsolate has turned an ominous black. I’m not managing it. I’m not handling it. I’m not beating it. It has me wrapped inside its womb of bleakness in a way I’m not sure I will birth myself from this time…

I’m not even sure I want to.

I am struggling.

To be. Here.

I no longer lament over broken dreams and a shattered heart. Nor over the spilled milk of my childhood. Nor over the abuse. The shame. The cowardice. The pain. Of this life. 

What’s the point of it?

I don’t walk in the graveyards of the past. 

I don’t miss him. 

Or her…

They don’t miss me. 

I miss something I’ve never had. Someone I’ve never had. And each day grows darker with the never having known it.

This isn’t a mood. Swing.

Or depression. 

Or psychosis. 

Or sadness. 

I am way beyond that.

This is despair.

True and desolate.

Mind numbing hopelessness. 

I write of it here for fear that I may never write here again.

I have given up.

This life is just too hard.

And I’m really not that strong.

I thought I was.

Everyone thought I was.

But they were wrong.

And so was I. 

Life just doesn’t make sense anymore. 

Not any of it.

Millennial Child

Unrealistic worldview?

Socially conscious?

Acceptable grossly exaggerated sense of entitlement?

No ownership of chaos?

Linear all inclusive me me ME?

Lacking in human empathy?

Sensitivity of others opinions obliterated?

Untolerated questioning of them?

Diversity a convenient slogan?

But only when applied to self?

Is this our children?

The future?

It’s frightening to consider.

And the world is already a scary scary place.

“Expression of and respect for different opinions, and growing from the sharing is also extremely valuable. Even our own two eye don’t have the same view, and as a result have to work together to gain perspective.”

I read this quote a few minutes ago in the comment section of a blog post called “24 Things Women Over 30 Should Wear”…whatever the fuck they want seemed to the be gist of it lol! And I say Hurray for freedom of self expression and self governance!

But this quote embodies exactly what I was trying to convey today in a conversation I was having with daughter – a Millenial Child – and the divide that exists between Generation X and hers. I’d like to think that as a loving and close mother and daughter duo we can overcome our generational distinctions, and/or at least agree to keep open minds and hearts and never cross the line of indifference, intolerance… and never subjugate our personal truths.

Admittedly, it’s a challenge.

But hasn’t it always been?

Didn’t our parents bitch about us?

And their parents about them?

It’s kinda what we do…

But there is definitely a brooding dialogue afoot and everyone is getting in on it!

Thankfully, it’s not all on me and my kid!

Or is it?

  1.   A great beginning to what is turning into a long debate of US against THEM…sigh😦

2) A Millenial Speaks Out About Her Own Generation: Attention Seeking or Truthsayer?

3) Ouch! (lol) Smart Asses!!! (Kinda my point!)

4) Humorous: Ya ya. I get it😉

Yup. I could go on. But I’m sure you get the point.

It’s…a thing. A generational thing. And it won’t end here. Wait till Millennial children have children lol. Oh boy! And, before you Millennials start bitching about Gen X’s and how we’ve ruined, well, the world…remember that as much as you don’t want to be stereotyped, neither do we! There’s a valid argument for every side of this multifaceted, headless coin! So don’t bitch about us bitching about you..DO SOMETHING CONSTRUCTIVE and BE THE CHANGE YOU WISH TO SEE IN THE WORLD!

Ya…kinda stole that last bit from Gandhi. He just knew shit and said it right!😉

BUTCH: Femmes Know

Lol…ya. Love this post, VV girl! It definitely speaks truths about our Butches. Love this. Love them. Just is xo (Thanks Mainely!)

Vulnerable Verbiage


I will write this to the best of my knowledge about BUTCH. For, I have loved and admired this gender since I was a young girl. I have been hopelessly drawn to butch women for as long as I can remember. Observed them and heard them. Touched them and experienced their love. Their convictions and their passion. Their strength and their vulnerabilities. They truly are a sexy force to be reckoned with.

Butch is neither male or female. There is no “man’s role” to the butch.

View original post 769 more words

Gemini Girls

She smiled as I walked in the room. That slow simmer in her eyes as she drank me in from head to toe told me I’d been missed. My breath caught. My face flushed. I felt the curl of anticipation tighten my loins. I needed this. I needed to feel the missing again. I’ve missed you too baby, I smiled back. And dropped my bag silently to floor…

Sigh. Imagination is a wonderful tool…

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the state of my missing-ness. You know, that wonderful place inside that leaps with happy at the thought of seeing someone again. Whether it’s been a day or a lifetime. And I realize that as a hard core Gemini, I need that in my orbit continuously. Anticipation. Longing. Good old fashioned “missing you”. The stuff that keeps my twins glued side by side. And in harmony.

Ya. It’s a problem.

If I had to compare my zodiac selves they’d be sisters of opposing natures. Twins. But not alike. At all. One hard and defensive; a warrior and survivor. The other soft and inviting; the wanton seductress. One desiring to be mother, housewife and nurturer. The other brazen, sexy, the whore in bed. One afraid of commitment. Of limitation. Needing to soar. Inspired by freedom. The other wanting safety. Security. A life partner. Grounding.

They war.



A tireless and exhausting struggle for supremacy. Emergence a battle with every breath. With every thought. With. Every. Fucking. Feeling.

And I have yet to find The One who genuinely gets that. And is truly okay with my Mercury Girls. They are manageable. But they each have specific needs for expression.

Double sigh.

My therapist had me fill out a questionaire after our second session. Something to help her determine my personality type. My character traits. Things that are decisively me. The questions felt redundant after the 50th. But I persevered. Mindful of the not-so-hidden search for my suicidal tendencies. I had the strangest sense that I’d be committed if I answered those particular ones in the affirmative one too many times. So I didn’t. But the truth is, I do love life and have no real desire to end it. I just get overwhelmingly tired of it all at times…

The conclusive of this questionaire is many fold, but the bottom line is that I am a dichotomy. Her word. Not mine. Apparently, most of my character and personality traits are at odds with one another and shouldn’t coexist within one person.


Ya think?!!!

Refreshing to hear confirmation of my self evident truths.

Marilyn, Angelina and Drew.

Beautifully fucked up women.

All Gemini Girls.

Our commonality?

The unabashed need for love.


And then I found this little ditty online…

Romance and Gemini women go hand in hand, but it is quite a task to get a Gemini woman to settle down for a commitment. Since stability and consistency are tangents to her personality traits, the idea of committing to a single person can be a daunting job for her.

Gemini women aren’t the criticising types. As such, they find something good or positive in each person. And when looking for a potential partner, if you manage to stir a Gemini woman with your excellent conversational skills and strike a chord with her mental, spiritual and physical self, she’ll be yours forever. 

Romancing a Gemini woman is like enjoying the company of many for she never is the same person twice. She may be exceedingly sweet one day, and the very next day might turn into your harshest critic and the following day compliment you for something she had just criticised the previous day. But once she meets up with her perfect partner, expressions of love take the primary seat.

She loves small sentimental gestures that keep the romance alive and the relationship kicking. In return, she’ll treat you beautifully by being your best friend, your sports partner, your racing competitor and your exciting, passionate lover, all at the same time.

The key to keeping your Gemini woman is by mentally exciting her and stimulating her senses by making her feel challenged and entertained. Just remember the phrase, catching is not the same as keeping when it comes to Gemini woman! So, if you have successfully managed to rope in a Gemini woman as your girlfriend, consider it a job only half done. If you can’t hold her interest for long, then, poof! she’ll be gone to seek greener pastures!


Lol…need I say more?

I think I’m finally getting to know my Gemini Girls. 😉

4 Months


It’s been 4 months, almost to the day, since K was diagnosed with breast cancer. I’ll never forget the look on the GP’S face at the walk-in clinic when she mistakenly started telling me that the results were not good. That I had cancer. And then her horribly pained  expression when she had to focus on K and awkwardly begin the telling again. No need. The C was out of the bag. Cancer was in the room.

I remember watching K’s expression as it mirrored her disbelief, affirmation of her worst nightmare, and the terror that threatened to swallow her whole. She looked so small and fragile sitting there beside me, taking the blow with as much dignity as she could muster. In that moment I was in awe and completely inspired by her ability to dig deep and pull out her courage. The tears came. Then the overwhelming numbness settled in. And for a nano-second there was a “why me?” but nothing diminished her inner strength. Or my respect and pride in her at the moment.

To say this ride has been turbulent is definitely understating the truth of the experience. Cancer touches everyone involved and takes no prisoners. K survived. My strength helped. My support. My love. My being present. When K’s radiation treatments were completed she got to bang the big gong set up in the radiation/chemo ward to celebrate and announce the end of her cancer. I was right there for that too. But shortly afterward, what started as a small thing escalated into a huge thing and I done lost my shit. Melted down. Big time. Released all I hadn’t fully realized I’d been holding onto inside. And in one loud, angry, woosh I whisked myself outta Barrie and right back to Toronto.

Familiarity. Family. Friends.
And. No. Fucking. Cancer!

I rented a small apartment for 5 days in The Village and reconnected with my freedom and my sanity. It was heavenly. Freeing. Liberating. And soul-finding.

And, of course, because no lesbians life is complete without angst and drama…it was also the bittersweetest of bittersweet.

I saw P.


I know.

But, it was good actually. No drama. We are working on a frienship now. Why? Cuz it matters. To both of us.

We talked. Really talked. For the first time in a long time. And I finally got the missing piece to the puzzle of our demise inserted into my psyche. A hard and painful fitting. But a necessary one. Ironically, it left me feeling…whole again. Stronger somehow. Like everything wrong that had happened between us wasn’t for the reasons I had thought. Wasn’t entirely my fault. That being a late blooming, inexperienced lesbian wasn’t something I needed to be ashamed of. Anymore. But more importantly, I was forced to look in the mirror and see something I’d never truly acknowledged about myself before…

(Ya…maybe I’ll write about that in my next post. Today I just needed to reconnect with my blog and ramble aimlessly! 😊.)

I also reconnected with L, a woman who intimately filled a painful summer with laughter and innocence and true fun. Until tragedy struck. For her. Death. Losing her family home. And then everything fell apart. Including that tenative, fledgling “us”. Again, another story for another time. But seeing her surprisingly reminded me of…well…me. The best me. The me I still carry inside. The child. The woman. The lover. The friend.  The most wonderful parts of who I am. The me that people fall in love with.  And it was beautiful to experience that feeling again. That loving of being me again.

No blame.
No guilt.
No shame.

Just sheer “I am fucking fabulous and I’m fun!”

Thanks L. I needed to feel that again. To be reminded that I’m pretty amazing. That I have a rare and beautiful nature that is not only desirable but desired. That being me is special. That I’m really not as messed up, inconsistent or flighty as some may think I am. That I can be grounded, solid, and God forbid…predictable!


But, sadly, while I was thriving in my freedom, exhaulting in my fabulousness, and completely enjoying my alone-ness and separation from cancer-talk during the days, K and I fought in the evenings.

I left in a thunder cloud. And the storm followed me to Toronto. Passive aggressive bullshit. Every. Single. Evening. K fights badly. Denies she is saying what she’s really saying. Then trips over trying to correct the misperception. It’s maddening! It’s this dance we do. And it makes me miserable.

I hate fighting.

Mostly I hate fighting with her. We used to laugh all the time. We had more fun then fight. She could make me laugh when I was spitting mad. And that’s no easy task. But we’re not there anymore. And to be honest, I don’t know where we are. I recently told her that all I could give her was today. Who says that?!!! Who accepts that?!!! Sigh…but it’s truly how I feel.

We’ve had to overcome a lot of obstacles. My past. Her past. My pain. Her pain caused by my pain. Cancer. Healing.The mosh pit of co-dependancy. Relationships. I don’t quite get them. Fuck the platitudes! The shit ain’t easy.

We walk on egg shells a lot these days.  Explosive relationship ending eggshells. Even so, I hear her truth between her words. I hear her fear of saying what could be a relationship ender. I hear it because I understand it. I’ve been there too. Thing is, it will end either way if it’s meant to. And there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. I understand that as well now. And many times during our heated and exhausting – not to mention thoroughly buzz-killing exchanges while I was flying in Toronto and she was healing in Barrie, I teetered dangerously close to the edge of never coming back.

But eventually I tottered.

And I did come back.


The past 4 months have been…hmm… tumultuous? Crazy? Painful? Exhausting? Consuming? Running up and down and all around a delicate minefield of warring emotions. Sad…angry…confusing…happy…sweet…loving…and completely and utterlessly soul-lost. So many emotions in fact, I don’t even recognize what I’m truly feeling anymore.

And sometimes.
I feel no thing at all. 😔

I have never been so at one with myself and yet so fucking torn in all my life. Now that’s truly saying something. Did I mention I’m in therapy now, lol? Session 3 coming soon! I’m expecting a clarity miracle any day now! 😞

So…the positives?

Cuba happened. Nice!!! Camping at  Rainbow Ridge, a gay and lesbian campground, happened. Also nice!!! Had my 55th birthday on the 24th of May 😐…. Pause…. Yup. I think I’m okay with that lol.  Danced my friggen ass off at a dance this weekend which felt amazing and reassured me that my aching, tired body can still move! So, there is that 😊. And, at the end of it all, K is cancer free and today she went back to work. Part time for now. But it’s a start. I’m happy for her. I truly am. Even though her workplace is crazy toxic and drama ridden as hell, she was able to physically return. Cancer didn’t win. Not this time. And for that we are both incredibly grateful. So thank you again, Universe.

And now?

Well. Now there’s the rest of my life.

And I have no idea what to do with it.

It’s complicated. And it’s not. I see writing on the wall. But it’s in a language I don’t quite understand. Not yet anyhow. I’m working on it!

Today is the first day I’ve had to myself since Cancer presented. 24/7 day in day out is not an easy thing for any couple. And we are not just any couple. Or maybe we are? We have ghosts. And issues. And baggage. And phobias. And pasts. And uncertain futures. Some days we’re on the same page, but more often we’re not. That’s my fault. K knows exactly what she wants. Now more then ever. Me? I’m not there yet. I feel so behind the eight ball of life sometimes. There are so many lessons unlearned and so many paths unwalked. I feel another life shift is coming. I’m not sure what yet. I just feel it.

But deep. Inside.

I know I’m ready.

June 23. The Universe has spoken.

Something BIG is coming.

when the only way forward is not turning back

I just found this amazing post from an amazing woman and had to share. She expresses something I have been struggling with for the past 12 days. 12 days of crazy. 12 days of confusion. Mental anguish. Sadness. Hurting. Myself and others. Depression. Revelation. Reconnecting. Remembering. And discovering. Me.

This resonates. Big Time. Thank you Racheal…




The joy escaped. My friends told me they didn’t recognize me anymore. Maybe getting divorced will do that too. A person has to change and get stripped down to the rawest places when one goes through that. And there’s a ton of emotions and grief and sadness mixed in with it too. I think part of the recognizing of me is because I have been frozen in fear of making a mistake.

Source: when the only way forward is not turning back