Just Watch Me

“Never. Don’t do it,” my roommate Gilles said. “You’re not right for it.” Oh yeah? I thought.  You negative pompous man, you. Okay, he was right about one thing. Height was not one of my endowments. Like all of my family, I was born of short and stocky stature. Who cared? I wouldn’t let his quick judgment decide for me. You are wrong, Gilles. A week later, with his words still bugging me, I decided to show him. Well, not him personally, but myself. I was so excited because I had a job interview and needed the work; I was…

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The Last Time I Tell This Story

This is the last time I will tell this story. I need my mother’s love. I knew this all of my life and It is still true today. I need my mother’s love. She was beautiful and I would have told her so if I wasn’t so afraid she’d hit me. I need my mother’s love. I didn’t like Ice Capades but I would’ve joined her to watch a show about Barbara Ann Scott, her favourite skater. I need my mother’s love. When she scooped me up in her arms after Dad kicked over the coffee table and scalded me…

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Moving Forward, 1988 (Warning: Difficult Content)

Slashing became a part of my life at 21. Shocking behavior, some might think, but not so to me. I’d been two decades in a severely-dysfunctional family and I could only guess at what healthy was. Cutting and hurting myself gave me a strange sense of elation. I was alive. I could feel. There was hope. The first major event that led to what I now know as my non-feeling state, happened when I was in Grade three. Mom had left Dad, so my two brothers, sister and I joined her to live with my grandparents. Overall, this arrangement was…

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If You Are In Crisis, Talk to Someone Immediately

If you live in Vancouver, please call the Crisis Center at 604.872.3311 • 1.800.SUICIDE • YouthInBC.com Women Against Violence Against Women (WAVAW) 24-Hour Sexual Assault Crisis Line – 604-255-6344 Rape Relief TEL (604) 872-8212 Battered Women’s Support Services (BWSS) (604) 687-1867 In the USA: National Teen Dating Violence Helpline: http://LoveIsRespect.org, or 866-331-9474 In the rest of the world, please check out the retweeted numbers @PixelProject. They have a long list of numbers from all over the world in 80 different languages. Note: If anyone sees important links or numbers I missed, please leave the information here in a comment for…

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A Word About Respect

I am reprinting several articles I wrote in the late 80s and early 90s. All of these are true stories. In fact, the events that happened to me, chose my life’s mission for me–to fight against violence against women, in particular, rape, incest and the trafficking of girls, women, and boys into prostitution. I wrote the article, Moving Forward (Healthsharing, Toronto, 1988) only months after I committed suicide. Thankfully, the doctors at St. Paul’s were able to revive me. In writing this, I was extremely fragile. While in my adult-self to write it at all, the trauma detailed is written…

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Six Reasons Why I Love Self-Deprecating Humour

I love laughing at myself. Now, for those who know me, don’t worry that I am doing so to put myself down. Why would I do that? What’s my height again? Oh yeah. I’m four feet six inches on a good day. Trust me, you’ll see nary a hair on my head when the day is less joyous. ********** I’m so shy and almost too reverent of people and things. For instance, if you invite me to a family dinner—yes, even when I’m expected–I still won’t knock on your door too loudly. I don’t want to announce myself by jolting…

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Sexual Abuse and the System: Fighting Back

A year ago I wrote a story on my use of anti-depressant drugs and my experiences in the mental health system. My subsequent choice against anti-depressants has led me into a different arena–the criminal justice system. Last February, I made several police statements implicating two uncles (one for allegedly molesting me when I was about three or four years old, and another for allegedly doing the same to my brothers); my mother and stepfather; and two other men (for allegedly raping me when I was 17). When I mailed the letters to the out-of-province jurisdictions in which the incidents occurred,…

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Paranoia

What do you want? What is it you want? As your amethyst eyes Slither over my face Paw my neckline Denting my nonchalance My demeanour so cool — You’d swear I drank milk. What do you want? What is it you want? Do you assume me Your answer, so easily? Wet nurse, lost sister Your other half gone missing So vital but unnoticed Till you’re about forty-three. What do you want? I must know what you want! As you approach me with gall– Crossing unspeakable lines. At last the secret spills … From a sooo-kissable mouth What is it you…

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Self-Esteem by Virginia Satir

I am me In all the world, there is no one else like me. There are persons who have some parts like me, but no one adds up exactly like me. Therefore, everything that comes out of me is authentically mine because I alone chose it I own everything about me my body, including everything it does; my mind, including all its thoughts and ideas; my eyes, including the images of all they behold; my feelings, whatever they may be anger, joy, frustration, love, disappointment, excitement; my mouth, and all the words that come out of it, polite, sweet or…

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Wasted and Dying to Be Thin

  Recently, I mentioned on Twitter that I just finished reading Wasted by Marya Hornbacher. I have not written my review as yet.  However, today I thought I would reprint my review of a Fringe Fest play which was published in March 1993; the newsprint is a bit too ragged for total readability, though I will scan the photo that went with the article.  I reviewed this play and read Wasted because at one time my nerves were so bad from post-traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD) that I couldn’t keep my food down. This problem eventually led me to flirt with…

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