Wisdom Wednesday

At first while reading this you may not find this is 'wisdom' per-say but, as you read this more, you'll see where the wisdom comes in. Wisdom shared comes in many forms.

Family is the most complicated relationship you'll ever have in your life. Family is a bond that most times can't be broken, unless something very serious happens to make that bond shatter. I admit, I have family I don't speak with because that bond has been shattered and can never be restored. I won't go into full detail about it but I'll give a small rundown.
My "Father's" (I use Father in a very loose term because he's never earned the title), side of the family I have zero contact with. My Father is a very manipulative, abusive, lying, egotistical, evil force of a person to be reckoned with. He doesn't care if you're family, friend or foe, he will hurt you in the worst ways he could think of. I regret ever meeting him when I was 17, it was the biggest mistake in my entire life. He's hurt me in so many ways that it's forged me to who I am today; with fears, regrets, pain and scars that will forever haunt me. His family is no better, they're all very similar to him. The evil runs strong in that family. Once I walked away from him and his family, I swore they'd never have contact with myself nor my kids as to not have them live through the abuse and pain I had to endure; and we haven't. They don't know any of that family exists. They think that I don't have a Father and that's perfect. Some reading this may think I am selfish by not allowing them to know a part of their family but understand when I say, it's for their own safety and best interests they don't know any of them. I wouldn't do it if I didn't think I was doing the right thing.

My Mom's side of the family however, I've known my entire life and have had and off/on relationship with the few family members we have. Our side of the family is small; there's my Grandma and Papa, my Aunt, my Uncle, my mom who passed away of cancer in 2004, myself and my 4 kids and my daughter's 2 kids. I guess if I really think about it, we're not that small of a family. The largest part is through myself with my 4 kids and daughter's 2.

I used to go see my Grandma and Papa every summer in Sault Ste. Marie Ontario when I was a kid. I loved going there for the whole summer (2 months). I'd be able to see my Oma and Opa, see my cousins Jessica and Paullette and my best friend since childhood, Jennifer. (Yes, I am using real names as it's not in negative terms). I'd always have the best time at my Grandma's. My Papa's garage was huge, it was split in two. One side was to park his truck, it had hubcaps hanging all along the walls. Each and every one of them were either found or someone gave them to him. There must have been 100 or more. There was a small wooden counter along the left side with tools and such and a set of wooden stairs (maybe 10 stairs) that would lead to the attic above the garage that would stretch across both parts. The attic was my favourite place to be. It was stacked with amazing treasures from my mom, Aunt and Uncles childhood. There were Barbies from the 50's -70's, dolls, clothes, stuffed toys; even poodle skirts and clothing from the 50's that my Grandma once wore! I loved being up there exploring the boxes and amazing things packed away. There was pictures of our families past, books, trinket boxes; so many things. I would sit up there for hours and play, explore and learn. My Papa put a table and chairs up there for me with a light and small radio. I eventually took most of my play things up there for myself as well and a little journal where I'd write what I thought of the things I saw, treasures I found and of course, how I was feeling. I'd leave my journal up there to "add" to the already cherished treasures from our family. That attic was like a giant time capsule.
Every summer I'd go back to my Grandma's, probably for about 8 years my mom would send me there every summer and every summer I'd go in that magical attic and find it just as I'd left it from the summer past. It was like time stood still up there, like nothing moved, time didn't touch that attic. I loved it so much. As I write about this it makes my heart warm and wish I could go back up in that attic and relive a small part of my childhood; the happiest parts.
Also when I'd go see my Grandparents, my Grandma would take me to Sault Ste. Marie USA for shopping and we'd always stop at Mc Donald's. She'd buy me a whole new summer wardrobe because, she always hated what my mom would send me with lol. My Grandma was very fussy about what I would wear and how I'd look. If it wasn't clean, new or "perfect," she wouldn't let me wear it. And my hair... OMG... my hair had to be just right. My hair back then was very long; at one point it was down to my knee's. My Grandma would brush and brush and brush it then, she'd braid it or put it in a ponytail and get so upset if it had any knots or was out of place. My hair was a light dirty blonde and having that kind of hair down to my knee's always got me a lot of compliments and attention. As a very shy child, I hated the attention.
My Grandma's friends and family would constantly fawn over my hair and tell me how lovely it was and want to touch it because it was so soft and shiny. I hated it  and begged my Grandma to cut it but she said no!! She told me if I ever cut it, I'd never in my lifetime have it that length again. Man, did she know what she was talking about. Her wisdom I wish I took with me later in life. I did end up getting it cut a few years later when it was even longer because at school, I'd use my hair as a weapon against bullies so my mom cut it all off to my shoulders. I cried and cried when she cut it!! I hated her for months because of that. Now that I am 41 years old, my Grandma's words haunt me; I've never in my lifetime had my hair that length again, no matter how hard I've tried. Words of wisdom she had.

Also when I was at my Grandparents as a child, every Sunday after supper, my Papa and I would get in his truck and go for a drive to Dairy Queen. He'd get us a box of Buster Bars to bring home and have as a bedtime snack. I always cherished this trip with him. He was my favourite person in the whole wide world and as I write this it brings tears to my eyes because, as I got older, my bond with him was lost and it breaks my heart. He and I would spend the best times together. I loved him so very much. He'd try to teach me how to do wood working with him in his garage. I remember building a cute little bird house with him and having this tiny, kids sized hammer. The one side of the hammer was rounded off instead of having the part that could pull nails out of things. It always reminded me of his thumb and fingers. He'd had his fingers and thumb cut off in an accident at work many years before I started going there for the summer. His fingers and thumb were rounded off in small stubs. I loved his hand for some reason. I thought it made him special, unique. Now that I think about it, it did. No one else had a hand like him and he never thought of it as a disability, he used his hand as he used his other. It didn't stop him from doing wood working, working on his truck, from fishing or hunting or chores around the house or yard. It didn't bother him one bit. That I found, made him amazing.
People today (most) would use it as an excuse not to do things and cry and whine how they can't live life normally. Fuck that!

I remember my Papa taking me fishing and for motorcycle rides in the summers. He was always so much fun to be with. I remember one summer I'd gone there, he was so excited to show me something in the garage. When we went out there, there was this bike for me. He had restored my mom's banana seat bike for me. It used to be rusted, worn down and the seat was torn up but now, it had a nice new seat, fresh new coat of paint, new white wall tires... it looked amazing. I named it Taunto. I loved this bike and would ride it for hours and hours. My Papa was an amazing man.

My mom quit sending me to my Grandparents when I was about 13 years old. I'm not quite sure why but I missed going there. From then on, my summers were long and mostly boring. I'd hang out with friends, make new friends, lose friends, get in fights, trouble, go swimming, rollerskating, hang out at a place a group of friends and I called the Barons (after the movie IT by Stephen King). It was under a bridge down by some train tracks, a stream and golf course. We'd hang out down there for hours and hours. It's where I met my first boyfriend, Doug. It's also where I have the most memories as a young teen.

Our little group of 4 friends who'd hang out at the Barons turned into 10 friends who'd hang out there. There'd be myself, Lindsay, Doug, David W, Trevor, Randy, Mike B, David B, Dustin, Janna and this other guy, I can't remember his name for the life of me.
We'd always meet up there. Lindsay, Dustin, David B, Mike B, Janna and myself all lived very close together. Doug, David W, Randy, Trevor and that other guy all lived close together across the bridge on the other side of Calgary. It was pretty much the half way point for all of us to meet. A few years of going there a bike path was built and we'd meet more people that way and more friends. Eventually I drifted away from this group of friends and would go to another part of Calgary, Forest Lawn area; a rougher area. I'd take the bus and c-train down there and met a whole other group of friends. They were a tougher group. I met Jeff S, Justin S, Ken, Jason and Chris. They all wore these black biker jackets except Justin. They went to a high school for bad kids; Jack James. I thought it was great that I had "bad ass" friends. They introduced me to smoking, pot and drinking. I started dating Jeff when I was 16 and introduced my friend Krista from my neighbourhood to Chris, who was Jeff's best friend. We thought it was awesome that we were best friends who were dating best friends.
My friend Lindsay, who I'd drifted away from, told me some wisdom I wish now that I'd listened to. She said that I was crazy dating Jeff and hanging out with them. That they'd change my life and ruin it. I thought she was crazy and just being a bitch. I don't know how she knew this but, I should have listened.
I lost all my friends from my neighbourhood because of being friends with Jeff and his friends. I was drinking a lot, not listening to my mom, dressing different, getting into fights, smoking, smoking pot and just getting myself into trouble. I was head over heels in love with Jeff though so, I wasn't about to listen to anyone. I was getting into so much trouble that's when my mom sent me to live with my dad in Ontario, when I first met my dad and life changed forever.
Who would have thought my 16 year old friend Lindsay had some wisdom to her words.


Back then, my Aunt and I had a very terrible relationship. She was mean as hell, abusive with her words and actions. A lot of the things she said to me back then and did, I carried into my adult life. She was a terrible person then. I was so scared of her and really hated her.
After my mom passed away in 2004 of cancer (my mom was my Aunt's twin) my Aunt changed; completely. I was in Ontario at the time of my mom's passing. I saw her 2 weeks before she died. My Grandma called me April 10th 2004 and told me of my mom's passing. It sent me into a downward spiral of drinking too much, crying everyday and night and pill popping. I was broken, lost and confused. I learned so many things from my mom but, she never taught me how to live without her. I didn't know how to handle not being able to call her on the phone for advice or just to talk, how not to see her any more. After about 3 months of living a hard life I met a guy, Jeff P and my life changed forever. He helped me stop drinking and pill popping, he helped me learn to live without my mom in a better way and we had 3 son's together.

Some words of wisdom, when you lose a loved one, especially a parent you were extremely close to, do NOT go into a downward spiral and drink, do drugs or take pills. It's very dangerous and a bad thing to do. It's harmful and hurtful for those around you who love you to watch.

I moved back to Alberta many years later with my 3 son's and my daughter (my daughter has a different father from my son's. Her dad is Ryan, whom I'd met when I was 18 in Ontario. We dated for 2 years and had her. We continued to speak and be friends up until a few years ago when he was sick with cancer and it turned him into a complete DICK! He'd always been a terrible father to my daughter, never being there for her, so when he was sick, I told him it was Karma for being a shit parent and that ended our friendship for good. Which is what I wanted).

My relationship with my Aunt since moving back to Alberta has been... awesome! She has completely turned herself into a different person. She's kinder to people, especially myself. She's friendly, funny, helpful. If I'm ever in a rut, she's been there to help. At first I found it strange but then I realised that it's because I'm no longer a stupid ass teenager doing stupid ass things and she's doing the same thing I'm doing; learning to live without my mom and holding on to what family we have left; one another. She now invites me out for coffee's, shopping trips and so on. It's nice. I enjoy these things with her.
Things may have been bad between us in the past but, as I grew and matured, they got better. Don't give up on people just because your past was hard. Things and people change. Hold on to some people and family but only to those who deserve it.

Writing this has made me feel hopeful and thankful; also lighter because, I got things out of my mind I haven't thought of or spoken about in many, many years. Some wonderful memories I wrote here and some, not but, either way, these things are part of who I am today because of things I experienced in the past. I'm nowhere near the person I once was and I'm thankful for that. I'm a more humble, quiet, mature soul that lives only for my kids and family. Someone who no longer touches alcohol, or drugs of any kind. Someone who has diabetes and is on many different medications for it and no longer touches any pills of any sort unless they're from a medical professional. I have memories that haunt me and many I cherish. I am strong because of my past and also broken from it. I'm a beautiful mess of a perfectly broken person.

My words of wisdom to those reading this, you're beautiful just as you are, good or bad. Your experiences to not define you. You can be an amazing person that does amazing things. We all make mistakes in life. Without mistakes, you'd never learn or grow as a person. As long as you learn from your mistakes and don't repeat them, you'll be a stronger, better person from them. Hold on to some relationships; some are worth cherishing. Don't let anyone abuse you in any way, shape or form. Abuse of any kind is never okay. Those are the relationships (even if they're family) that are worth walking away from forever. You do what's best for you, always.