The break up

You can probably guess what this will be about. Cameron is still planning to move to Saskatoon, and get a fly in fly out job. However, it won't be with me. Saskatoon has always been his home, and I haven't. I made a home with him, and now we are going our separate ways. I guess we already went out separate ways (he is still in Whitecourt, and I'm in Saskatoon). We broke up two weeks ago, and if I had written two weeks ago, I'd be writing something completely different. I was heart broken. I'm not heart broken now, I'm just sad. Sad that it didn't work out. Sad that I'm not going to get married, and sad that I'm not going to have a baby. Not that I'm at all ready for any of that. To be realistic, if that's what I'm sad about, not the actual end of our relationship, it says a lot. I loved Cameron. I gave him all the love I had, but he wasn't able to return it. We both knew it, but it took both of us a long time to admit it. There is no bitterness. Cam was my best friend, and right now he still is my best friend. I don't think we'll continue being best friends, but I hope we can stay friends. Garnet and I were going to stay friends. We didn't. This is different. I'm older, more mature, and Cameron has been the one I've gone to about everything for the past 2 and a half years.

I feel like I'm okay, but I know I'm not. I think this might be the best time to blog. Instead of hiding how I'm feeling, and just simply moving on with my life, I'm going to blog about it, and not care who reads it. I can already feel myself putting on my 'brave face' in front of friends. I'm proud of myself for getting up and going to work everyday -which doesn't seem like something to be proud of -but the first work-day after our break up, all I wanted to do was go to sleep, and not go to work. I went to work, and for that I'm proud. I guess I have nothing to fall back on now. I can't just be depressed. I can't let myself. I need to move on, and make my new life in this great city.

I am going to allow myself to be sad though. I had such high hopes for Cameron and I. I really thought we were going to make it. I may have been delusional. If I had ever listened to my nagging thoughts, I might have talked to him about how I was feeling sooner. I guess I was scared that what did happen would. I had planned out our lives, and I guess the big thing is I hate to quit. I hate to give up. Cameron hates to hurt people, and hated the fact that I was going to be hurt. It helped that I wasn't surprised he was saying the things he did. I can freely admit that while I love him, I haven't felt in love with him in a while. In fact -I don't really know what 'in love' feels like. I know I've loved, but I no longer know what it's going to feel like to fall head over heels for a guy.

I'm going to miss Cameron. He was a wonderful boyfriend (at times), and when he finds that girl he actually falls in love with, she's going to feel it, and be incredibly lucky. But I need to find somebody who is always a wonderful boyfriend. And who thinks I'm smart, and believes in what I say. Also, maybe one who will stick up for me in front of his friends.

We had so much in our way when we started dating. My pregnancy, my miscarriage, my depression, and he had his issues as well. His ex-girlfriend seemed to be along for the relationship. That was both my fault and his. We started dating too soon after they FINALLY ended, and just moved to fast. We didn't date, we had a full out relationship. I didn't trust him either. I'm not sure where that came from. Mostly myself I guess. Insecurities about myself, and him.

Either way, we both need to work on ourselves more than anybody else. I lost myself quite a bit while with him, and I need to be with somebody who completely supports me, and what I say... and somebody who doesn't care that I haven't had any major life changing event in my life. Being normal is a good thing, and if he can't see that, what can I do? (I know, I try to be anything but normal, but I'm not usually crazy.)

That last paragraph may not have made sense, and maybe should have been left in my journal, but I'm already writing, and if I'm going to use this as my therapy, why not?

I guess  I also hate failing at things. Which are always full of regrets for not working hard enough at succeeding. I know this shouldn't be the same situation, but to me it is. I was the best I can be, and it wasn't enough.

That's it for now.

Changes, changes and more changes.

I have so much to say, and so much I need to write and get out of my head and into this blog, but it won't all happen tonight. Once again, my story of the past few years is interrupted by the now. I guess, I should just have two blogs so I don't confuse people who don't actually know what is in the present and what is in the past. Although... it will all be the past soon enough.

As I may have mentioned, I had trouble finding a job in Whitecourt. I hadn't quite reached the point in the story about why I quit my job as Account Executive at the radio station. Basically, I was trying to fight my depression, and I knew the job wasn't making me happy. At all. My grandfather had died in November, and people kept talking about the passion he had for farming, and how he did what he loved. I knew then, I was lacking the passion, and the love for my job. So about five months later, my boss and I spoke, and I quit.

That left me without a job. I thought it would be easy to find a job because of my experience (in jobs and life) and my education. I was wrong. I felt like every time I went to an interview, my hopes would go up, and then... I'd be kicked back down. It may have been one of the lowest points of my life. I finally got a job at a liquor store. I worked with great people. However, I had a degree, while two of my co workers didn't have a high school diploma. The other two only had their high school. I'm not judging at all. I enjoyed working with all of them, I just felt horrible that I'd worked so hard to get all that I had, and was working at a liquor store. A liquor store that somehow managed to bring me down. I felt no appreciation or faith that I could do a good job, even though I was doing a fine job. I quickly jumped at an opportunity elsewhere -although not as soon as I would have liked.

I was interning and opping at the radio station as a second job (the interning was a free second job). I didn't have it in me to leave the station. I love radio.

I was hired at a hotel a block from my house as a front desk night auditor. It was a pretty easy job. Lots to remember, but very relaxing. In fact, I had probably blogged from a night shift more than once. I enjoyed the people I worked with, but even more, I enjoyed the faith and trust my manager had in me. It felt good to once again have people see me for the hard worker I am. (I'll admit, I'm not always a hard worker, but I'm efficient and organized, and would never slack when work needed to be done.) This job kept me close to home, close to Cameron and Karmen (my dog) and Rolo (my cat), and I was making much more than I had been at the liquor store. I could have made it work, even though, in my heart, I knew I wanted more.

One day, I received a text from a co-worker at the radio station. He told me about a job opening in Saskatoon as a Creative Writer at a Saskatoon Radio company. Saskatoon is where both Cameron and I have talked about ending up, so I thought, why not? I applied, not really expecting anything to come of it (but hoping). Cameron supported my decision. (he is a supporter of me). A few days later, I received an email back asking for an interview. (A phone interview). So I arranged a time, came home from a night shift, slept for four hours, and then woke up in time for the interview. I even dressed up for it.

She had already spoken to one of my references, and somebody who wasn't a reference, but gave me one anyway when she found out I was applying for the job. (She's in the Saskatoon Creative Writing community). They both gave me really good references. The interview -was so much like the interviews I was used to... the kind where I got the job. I had it by the end of the call (possibly before the call).

So... I'm writing this from Saskatoon. I've been living here since July (It's almost the end of August). I basically left everything to come here. Cameron is planning to get a job that flies him in and out, and then planned to buy a house in Saskatoon.

I'm done for the night. I plan to write tomorrow, and if I do, I'll write about coming to Saskatoon. The good, the bad, and the changes. Because once again, my life has gone from me knowing what was going to happen next, to having NO CLUE what will happen next. Maybe I needed this feeling -but the problem with liking that is the need to not stay in the same place for too long (or the same city).

Anyway. Until the next time.

Moose Jaw

One of my closest friends (my biggest confident) just asked me if I was able to come to Moose Jaw this weekend because she will be there visiting family. I unfortunately cannot because it's so far away, and I'm lacking the money for the weekend trip. Which is sad because it's been WAY to long since I've seen Nehal. Thank goodness we're able to remain such great friends from so far apart. Seems like that's the way most of my friendships are.

I started to think about how wonderful it would to see her, and I started reminiscing. Not only about her, but about Moose Jaw as well. We met in Moose Jaw, and then lived in Regina for a while at the same time. Then we each moved away, but she will always be my 'twin'.

Actually, come to think about it, I met my other two closest friends there as well. I met Karen outside of Moose Jaw at a camp (of sorts), but anytime I visited Moose Jaw, we met up, and our friendship grew each time. I met Denise at a writing camp in Moose Jaw. I used to be embarrassed to admit that we met at a 'geeky' writing camp. However, I am a writer so there is nothing to be embarrassed about.

My point is Moose Jaw was where I started friendships with three great woman. Growing up, I lived four hours away from Moose Jaw. The fact that I have found such lasting friendships from a city I lived so far away from was the luckiest thing to happen to me.

I met them all in my teens, but my love of this city came way before I met them. (None of us live near MJ anymore). (For the sake of laziness, I'm condensing Moose Jaw to MJ).

I can remember the excitement I had going to Moose Jaw, from Plenty. (both in Saskatchewan). One of the reasons was my love for the city. I'm from a town of 200 people, so going to a city with around 30 thousand was such a great thing for me. I really had no idea this was small in comparison to larger cities. I loved the stores and the mall and the restaurants. Plenty had one restaurant and one grocery store.

Somebody made me love MJ. The whole reason my family got in the car about four times a year for the four hour drive with two little girls that DID NOT sleep during car rides was to see Grandma McCrea. My Grandma lived there, as well as my aunts and cousins. I can remember the frustration I had during the car trip waiting to get there, and I remember the excitement I felt when I saw the lights proving that we would indeed get to our destination -grandma's house.

Grandma's house was one of my favourite places. It had an attic that she used to rent out, but now was where the grand kids slept. The stairs were steep, but that didn't stop Jodi and I from climbing up and down the stairs, with an energy I seem to have lost. Jodi and I would play with the paper dolls that my aunts had played with growing up. It wasn't quite Barbies, but we loved them. My dad was the only boy in the family. He had two older sisters and one younger sister. My grandfather passed away when dad was 10, and as far as I can tell grandma dedicated her life to raising her family after that.

I can't put into words how much I loved visiting, and I don't think the feeling ever went away, even as I grew older. Leaving was always sad. Grandma always told me to leave something behind because it meant a guaranteed visit back. I'm not sure if I ever did leave anything, but I'm sure I will be telling my kids the same thing when they visit their grandparents. I'm big with goodbye's. Jodi hated them, but I always made sure I was the first and LAST one to hug grandma. I'm still like that with my mom. Grandma would stand at her window, or outside the door, and wave to us as we drove away. I don't ever remember crying when we drove off, and I guess it's because I knew we'd be back.

The summer before I started Grade 12, I stayed all summer in MJ. Stayed at grandma's house. It was just her and I. This was the year I was going for my writing camp. I already knew Karen at this point, and was excited to get to know her more during my visit. I was most excited to live in Moose Jaw, and hang out with my grandma. Grandma thought I was home sick because I was so quiet. Truthfully, I think I was just quiet. I enjoyed the silence with her. It was comfortable, and whether we were talking or not, I felt love. (I feel love with my whole family). I met Denise at the writing camp, and we became fast friends. I think Karen and Denise both called Grandma: Grandma McCrea. I also met my first ever boyfriend that summer (I was a late bloomer in the dating life). The relationship ended shortly after I returned home, but  was a great experience. Grandma was there to share it with me.

After high school, I left my life as I knew it to travel in a program called Katimavik. I was away from family for 9 months while staying in three different provinces in Canada. Everyone in my family kept in touch with me while I was gone.

When I returned, I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I took another year off before I went to University, and chose to once again, move in with my grandmother. I searched for a job in Moose Jaw, and spent the year with grandma. It was a nice break before I had to head towards 'real life'. This is the year I met Nehal. I also met my now ex. We stayed together for five years (most of them in Regina). Both he and Nehal also referred to her as grandma.

When I moved to Regina to attend University, I was still able to get to Moose Jaw and visit Grandma. We remained close. Eventually, grandma moved to a smaller place in MJ. She had been threatening this for years, but nobody was ready for her to leave her house. My cousin bought the house from her, which made everybody happy to keep it in the family. My four plus years in Regina were great because I was able to remain closer to grandma and the city I loved. After I moved to South Korea for a year of teaching, it was not very often that I got back to visit. 

The reason for this long blog about Moose Jaw and my grandma is because I realised that every time I've visited I've seen my grandma. The last time I was there was for her funeral. It was time to say goodbye to her. It was such a hard day. Cameron went with me to the funeral, and I was so sad to have him there with me. As always, the support in my life. It also made me sad, that he didn't get to meet her, and see what a great woman she was.

I also realise, that the next time I go to MJ, I won't be going there to see her, I won't be staying in her house, and frankly, my love affair with Moose Jaw has faded because of this.

That's it for now. I was going to write about the funeral next, but I'm not sure that I need to. This says it all.

Days gone by

I'm really quite good at not writing. I procrastinate from doing what I love. Strange, I know. Although, I kind of procrastinate from everything lately. I go to work, but I have yet to give my house the cleaning it deserves, or take my dog for a nice long walk, or start my own exercise/healthy eating. These are all very important to me, and I'm not doing any of it. I don't know why, and although I'm almost 31, I still have to figure out how to get myself to do all these things. I've procrastinated most of my life I guess, and it's a pretty hard habit to stop doing.

I have a friend who is trying to quit smoking. I text her everyday to see if she has quit yet. Maybe she's going to have to do the same for me. To see if I've quit procrastinating. It would change my life, that's for sure.

I want to continue my story. I've written more than once since than, but I left off when my Grandma passed away. I don't have anything to go on to help me remember. My journal is at home, and I actually don't want to read it again right now.

I'm going to have to save it though. I'm hoping I will not procrastinate, and be able to write tomorrow. I just looked at the last one, and saw where I left off. I don't have enough time tonight to get into it or cry while writing.

I work night shifts right now, and I have extra time to write or read, and I'm loving the opportunity. I just have to take advantage of my good fortune.

Dance like nobody is watching

It's been a long time. I've cheated, and been doing a book blog as well. That way I feel like I'm still sharing, but it's a bit easier. I'm not really going to be writing about anything today. Just my feelings and thoughts I guess. Stuff about me. I'm good at talking about myself, but what I've been noticing lately is that I've never really been good at showing real emotion, and talking about things that are affecting me. I can tell you my what my favourite colours are, which movie makes me cry every time I see it, or the book that I can read a thousand times. I can tell you what I wanted to be when I grew up, or what I do now. All of this information will help you to know me better, but that's the easy stuff to get out. I love telling people what I love, but I'm not so good at getting my opinion out there, and talking about things that are truly important. I guess that's why this blog has started. I'm trying to get out of my 'shy'mode. I don't want to be embarrassed about my life, and about what I'm bad at. I want to tell you what I'm bad at, and let it be done with. I want to tell you about my bad day, and explain why things are frustrating me. I want to admit to the world that I do struggle with depression because it's something SO many people deal with. There are things on this blog that I'll share here, but not on facebook. I've never made it public that I was pregnant or had a miscarriage. People knew, I just never let all of my facebook friends know. Because let's admit it... most of my those people are people who I was once friends with, but would have lost touch with if not for facebook. It's so much easier writing it down than saying it out loud, but healing either way.

I don't want to talk about two years ago in today's blog. I may or may not get back to it. I probably will because nobody likes an unfinished story. My goal was to start from my pregnancy, and each blog would be about the last couple of years, gradually leading up to my life now. Unfortunately, I do not write as much as I should, so if I make that my goal, and never write about my life today, I may never get to the present. And it's pretty important to live in the present. (as well as remember what got you to the present).

The problem with not writing about something specific is the fact that I lost focus. I don't have a reason to write, I'm just writing.

I write in a journal as well, but less and less. I want to go back to journal writing, and with my new open life, it won't be 'private' things in my journal that I don't want the world to know. I'll just write in it when I feel like writing but not publishing. That will help with my newest goal. I'm going to write AT LEAST twice a week. In my journal, my book blog, this blog, or a letter to somebody. I'm also planning to write and send out more mail and cards. Mail makes people happy when it isn't bills, and I want to make my world happy. When my grandma was sick, and I couldn't get to Moose Jaw to visit, I wrote her a card and sent a whole bunch of them. I can't remember if I was going for one a week, or one a day, but it made me feel good to know that I could reach out in my own way.

The reason I haven't been writing as often on this blog or in my journal is simple. I'm feeling happy. I never really feel like writing and making myself sad when I'm not sad. Which is why I'm not talking about the past. I'm sharing my happiness with everyone. Things are going well. Cameron continues to make me happy, I have a whole lifetime of adventures to look forward to, and I feel like I'm slowly gaining just a little bit of my independence back. I lost A LOT of it in the last few years, which is sad because that is something I was most proud of about myself. My job isn't perfect, but I'm slowly realizing, that it's not about what my job is, it's about who I am.

Here is the last thing I have to say before I get to work (house cleaning and organizing): I'm always coming up with new goals for myself... always always always... sometimes they are the same because I haven't yet reached my full potential, but here is a new one: I'm going to dance and sing once a day. Whether I'm alone or in front of people, just letting loose for five minutes is such a great thing. I'm a TERRIBLE dancer, and TERRIBLE singer, but I've stopped caring. When I go out dancing (which isn't very often), I dance like nobody is watching because if I were to think about people watching, and care what they're looking at, I probably wouldn't dance at all. (I haven't in the past). I don't play my music enough, and it is such a great reminder of the past when I do turn it on.

For Velma McCrea

I've waited a long time to write this one. I think it's hard for me because I am still so emotionally attached to my grandma. I've written about my miscarriage more than once. I wrote about it just a week after it happened in hopes of getting it all out, and also in this blog. It seems like I've somewhat desensitized myself. I still get upset when I think about certain things, but I'm able to tell people the story of my miscarriage without getting overly upset. Emotionless I guess... even though it wasn't.

I don't know that I can tell the story about my grandma's death without tears. Here or in person. I cried a lot while writing about my miscarriage on here, and it will be no different this time. I've already written about it a bit, so it won't be as long, but I was just as heart broken if not more so, but in a completely different way.

Losing a grandparent is hard. I'm sure it is for everybody. Even though I knew it was coming, it didn't stop the pain. At that point, I thought I was over the miscarriage, which meant I could focus completely on my new grief. I was wrong about being over the miscarriage, but it helped me deal with her death at the time. It also, unfortunately, made it easier. I had blocked my heart from pain. I didn't deal with it in the way I should have.

I'm going to write about her death, but I'm going to try to write about her life as well. Even as I write about her, I know that I can't make clear how great of a woman she was. She was loved by so many. Not just family, but everybody she met. She was loving, had a great sense of humour, she let her opinion be known, she was accepting of others, and was a big environmentalist. There are so many more things.

When I was 15 or 16, I got it into my head that I wanted an eyebrow ring. My family wasn't that excited about it, but grandma paid for it for me. She didn't care about the change it would make on me, she wanted me to do it safely. I think that was the summer I lived with her. It was a great summer. She worried a lot because she was concerned I was homesick. I didn't talk much. I guess I still don't at times. I just enjoyed spending time with her. I liked listening to her talk. I liked spending time with her, talking or no talking.

Grandma watched soaps. Something that she's passed down (if that's possible). After I was older, and living on my own, she still made sure to let me know what was going on with The Young and the Restless. Even though I didn't watch the show, she still told me about it. I find myself watching it now, specifically for grandma. I imagine talking to her about what is happening with the characters.

I imagine talking to her about many things. Sometimes I tear up (or cry) because there are so many things I want to catch her up on. I want to tell her how great my friends have turned out because she knew them as teenagers, and would love to know how much they've grown in life, and how great they've become. (They have.)

My grandma died in April of 2009. Four months after my miscarriage, I lost a woman that I looked up to more than anybody. A woman who raised a family on her own after her husband passed away (when my father was 10, and my aunt was just a baby -with two aunts older than my dad). She did so much in her life, and made so many wonderful choices to make her life and the world a better place.

I found out she died through facebook. Every time I think about that, I wonder why I'm still on it. I understand the concept of getting your grief out through facebook statuses. I also understand that waiting until everybody has heard the news is appropriate. My cousin's step-daughter (who was around 15 at that point), wrote a status that said "RIP Great Grandma." I knew who it was about.

I called my mom, and without waiting for her to tell me, I asked if it was true. She couldn't believe I found out the way I did. She had just heard, and was planning to call my sister and I.

I was all alone sitting in my condo when I found out. Cameron was at work, and at that point I must have been between roommates. My sister called me, and without talking we just cried. It was a loss we were all expecting, but weren't ready for at all.

My family had seen her before she died, and it was hard for them. She was in a different time in her life in her head. I didn't see it. I've already spoken about the last time I saw her, and I'm happy I got the chance to see her when I did.

Earlier that night, I had received an email from a friend living in South Africa. I taught with him in South Korea, and kept in contact through letters and email. He had just lost his father. He was with his dad while he was sick, and the email was just letting people know how it happened. I felt so bad for him. That's a loss I will never be ready for. It was shocking to find out my grandma had died just hours later after I read his email.

Once again, my friends and family were there. I called my friend Karen, who knew and loved my grandmother, and also lost her grandma a couple of years ago. She was sleeping when I called, but took the time to talk to me, and tell me how sorry she was. Cameron called me as soon as he received my email. As always, Nehal was the first person I told, and spoke to. My rocks.

I think that's all for tonight. My computer just played a mean joke on me, telling me it was closing the program. Luckily this saves things every three seconds.

So I will quickly do a crap edit, and than publish. Will write again soon (I hope).

Resolutions for 2011

I'm am doing this even though Nehal strongly suggested not to... And I understand why, it's hard enough following through on resolutions when they are written in a journal, or just stated out loud, but I am writing it for all to see on my blog, so if I fail... everyone will know. That's why I'm going to keep them pretty simple with the knowledge that I may not be able to keep my resolutions. So here it goes:

1) I am going to read more. I spent my Christmas with my family, and was jealous while watching them read. I still read, but not like I could. I should be able to read much more books. I'm also going to keep track of what I read. I enjoy writing about what I read.

2) Spend less time on facebook, and less time watching television. Doing this will help me with reading more, and with the rest of my resolutions.

3) Obviously: write more. And not just blogging, but write more fiction, write more in my journal, write more letters and even emails. Any form of writing is important.

4) Take better care of my house. I'm lucky enough to live in a beautiful house, I should spend more time making it look beautiful.

5) More quality time with Karmen. In other words... walk my dog.

6) Learn how to budget my money. Pretty important, and it's something I should know by this age... but I don't, and it's actually one of my most important resolutions.

7) Lose weight -be healthy. This includes eating better, giving up fast food (with the once a month rule), and exercising.

8) Be happy with where I am in life, but keep working towards making it better.

9) Try new things. All the time.

9 is a strange number for resolutions, but that's all I am doing.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Erin

The Need to Write

I find writing healing, and I see the changes when I don't write. This week has been tough. I didn't write, and I haven't been reading either. (which is just as important to me). I've felt a bit lost. I am scared of the feeling. I'm scared the depression is seeping back, and I don't want it to. I'm not having a great time with my job. It's affecting the way I am, and I need a way to fix this. I worked a lot this week, at both jobs. I work, and working is fine, it keeps me busy and keeps me happy. Well one job does -the other one makes me sad that at 30, that's where I am. Either way, they both make me busy. Being home and not busy is when I stop. I shut down. I hate leaving the house, and have missed out on things. I need to go grocery shopping, and I need to start Christmas shopping, and I NEEDED to buy Cam a birthday present, and I didn't get anything done. I went into the weekend fearing that maybe I hadn't fought off the depression as well as I had hoped.

I like where I am right now. I like the town, I love the boyfriend, I love my pets. We've made ourselves a home in this town. I wish I could get more of a sense of belonging though. I also wish that this town has more opportunities for me. I feel like I've wasted so much of my life going to school, and getting my education because it hasn't helped.

This seems like a wasted post. I hate writing them when I'm down because although most of my blogs aren't the happiest because of the past, I want them to also be encouraging. I want to write them with the sense that I am going places, and that things will improve. -Which they will, but not as quick as I'd like them.

I want to write period. I wish I had the self discipline to sit and finish all of the writings I've started in the past. I want to try to make it into a career somehow. That would be the ultimate dream.

I think it will be to exhausting to write about my grandmother. It will happen though. I need to head to bed. I am a fan of sleep, it seems like I need it.

More snow

It's snowing today which is a great time for me to write. Makes me happy and nostalgic. However, I'm not writing about snow. It's time to finish my story. When I think back to last year (2009), I sometimes have trouble believing all that happened.

After my week of healing (two weeks altogether), I went back to work, and tried to get back to real life. That's what I wanted. I'm going to quote myself. That sounds strange, but I've been trying to remember what comes next, and how I was feeling, and I can't remember some of it, or when things happened. I wrote in my journal a little bit at that time though, and that's what I'll be quoting from.

I wrote this before my second hospital visit (the one in Whitecourt), "I want the physical part to be over (the pain) so I can deal with the emotional part. I need to write it all in here and deal with this all by getting it all out, and I would almost rather do it in here so that I don't have to burden anyone else with it. Let's face it, it's me going through this. No one else, and why should they have to, I don't even want to."

It scares me that I wrote that, and I hope I've changed. Perhaps, if I had been blogging it all for the world to see, I would have been able to deal with it all so much better. I didn't really deal with it, mostly because I didn't know how. I wrote that January 29th, 2009. At the end of the entry, I mentioned the fact that my grandma was back in the hospital (and nobody was sounding very hopeful). I found that so scary because I didn't know how I would possibly deal with both things happening. I felt very selfish for thinking that though.

I haven't read back at past journal entries for a long time. I wrote more than I remembered. Especially during the first little bit. I wanted to get over it so badly, but I didn't know how to, and didn't take the time to figure out how to.

Feb 2nd, 2009: "I hate these on and off days. I'm so frustrated today. I really just want it to be over. I'm just at the point where I don't think any of this is fair, and I know people deal with far worse, but I'm just so done with all of this. I'm in pain, I'm exhausted, and at some point I need to find time to deal with it all. I really wanted this baby, and I know this because it didn't happen."

Feb 4th, 2009: "Today is tough. For once, not physically. Just emotionally. I'm just sad -and I'm confused because I can't place the sadness. I've just been through so much, and I don't know how to feel about anything. I'm trying to write about the experience, and that may be why things are hard right now. I've felt like crying all day, and I hate how anti-social I've been. Hopefully tomorrow gets better."

I wrote these two during my week off. I could feel myself retreating from the world. I took so much comfort from Cameron, and had trouble doing things without him. Yet, I didn't confide much to him. I thought I was, but he knew I wasn't. I think I was just expecting things to get better much quicker than they did. I feel like this is cheating, by writing what I have already written, but it's working.

I started back at work the next week, but was not doing a very good job at it.

February 12/09: "I absolutely need to write. I need to be at work, seeing clients, making money and making phone calls. Instead I'm sitting in my house, feeling depressed. It's been such a tough month, and I'm feeling better, but I seem to be worrying about everything lately. I'm trying to leave the house, and I have things to do, and yet I have to convince myself to see people. I'm worried about Cameron and I. I like him so much, and I can see a future, but I'm worried that I'm going to get hurt. I trust him, but am worried he'll decide he doesn't want a relationship. I hate getting worried or worked up about things because I don't think I deal with them correctly. I close down and feel depressed. This doesn't happen a lot, but enough that I know it isn't right. I always thought of myself as someone who could fight my way out of depression, but why does it have to begin at all? I guess I just can't be in a relationship without stressing out about absolutely everything. And it's not just my relationship, it's my life, my job. I hate failing, but I feel like I am."

I'm just so mad at myself for trying to rush it. I actually don't mind that obsessing about a relationship because that's a realistic thing I do. I guess it gave me a chance to focus on something else (although it made for a rocky start to the relationship).

As a side note, I'm not going to focus on this a lot because it's not my story, but I was also stressed out and worried about Cameron's ex. I felt insecure about their relationship, and felt that I was failing in comparison to her. It was a silly thing to worry about, but what can I say... I'm a girl. Instead of just being happy with what I have, I worry about absolutely everything that wasn't needed. I guess I was comparing my relationship to the one I had with my ex. When I broke up with my ex, my worry was that I would never find somebody who loved me as much as him. That's a selfish thought. I can admit it. So going into this new relationship, I worried that he could never love me like he loved his ex. I didn't see that every relationship is different. There was a reason he was no longer with his ex, and a reason I'm no longer with mine. Either way, it was a stress I didn't need, but gave me something to focus on other than the miscarriage. That's all I have to say about that. Like I said, his past is his business. No one else's. I had personal insecurities, and they really had nothing to do with him or his past.

I spoke to my boss while I was going through all this. He suggested that I make an appointment with a counselor. I did. I had two appointments with her before I stopped going. I think I was frustrated because she was making me feel normal, if not a little childish, and I wanted her to help me. Possibly if I had given her more of a chance, she would have. If I were going now, it would be easier, but the difference is, I have an easier time getting out of bed now. (Not that I don't love to sleep in).

March 1st/09: 'I'm not getting any better and somehow, I have lost the ability to be able to spend time on my own. I used to love sleeping in my own bed, by myself, but now, being by myself is scary. I'm not worried about hurting myself, or break ins, I'm worried about the silence. I should be using the time to write, but instead, I cry or I watch TV. I should be trying to fix myself, not let it overpower me.'

The thing that astonishes me about these entries is that it wasn't the worst of my depression. I remember not getting out of bed, and knowing I needed help, but not quite willing to help myself. -Then again, I just read the next entry, and it pretty much is a perfect description of what I was going through.

March 9th/09: 'I tricked myself. I woke up yesterday and I thought I had fought off the depression just in a day. I've done it before, so I thought I could again. I was wrong. I woke up today without the will to do anything. I didn't get anything accomplished, and I didn't try to get anything accomplished. I've cried a lot today, and I think it's partially because I thought I was on the mend. Maybe I still am, but today, I'm feeling pretty hopeless, and as usual I'm feeling pretty impatient.'

This isn't the entry I had actually planned. I wanted to write about grandma. She's next. It'll be hard for me to write, but I need to. I think the biggest part of my depression was it started because I didn't deal with what happened, but then it stayed, and I still didn't deal because it became more about the depression than how I was feeling. Having something to be sad about helped me at times because I knew I was feeling something important.

Where am I going?

Well, I didn't stay off facebook very long, but I did make it until Thursday. I woke up this morning to a text from Nehal. She was letting me know it has been two weeks since I last posted. Thanks Nehal. (By the way, this is the same girl I texted from the toilet when I found out I was pregnant). My encourager. (relentless encourager).

I have opened up this page MANY times in the past two weeks. I don't know what stops me from writing, but something does. I don't think it's writer's block. Fear possibly. Fear that even though it feels great to do this, I want more from it -and I'm not sure I'll get it.

I've received good feedback about what I've been writing. It's nice to hear, and sooner than later, I will get back to my story of the past. I haven't given myself enough time tonight though. I guess it was easier to go through the miscarriage, than the things after. I guess depression is hard to describe, and in my case, not that interesting.

I am just feeling stuck right now. I'm not depressed anymore, but I can feel it sometimes. My biggest problem right now is my job -which should not be a cause for depression (to me). I just wish I knew where I was going at the age of 30 -or even better, that I was already there.

Growing up, I didn't really have a definite plan of what I would do when I was grown up. I wanted to be a famous actress. I wanted to be rich and famous. I wanted to be in love. I did want to be a writer as I got into my teens (a famous writer), and I probably thought that would be easier than it is. I don't know how to be a writer and make money now. The two don't go hand in hand.

The only time I felt like I was finally in a career was at the radio station, and I miss that feeling of belonging somewhere.

I guess the reason I took a break from my writing was because I get frustrated about where I am in my life. It's incredibly sad to me that I don't have a family, I'm not a mom, and I don't have a career to blame on the way my life is. If I was travelling, that would be different, but I'm not even doing that. I can't afford it.

So that's why you haven't heard from me. I'm having a feeling sorry for me moment (that's lasted a few weeks). Maybe writing this will help though. I can get back on track and continue writing every day.

Until tomorrow. (or the next time).

movie watching and facebook addictions

I'm taking a break from my story. I've told the main part, but the truth is, I don't want to continue everyday with the same story because you might thing that was the worst of it, but things apparently needed to get a lot worse before they got better. I'm still working on the better, but it keeps getting better. Turning 30 really helped me get off my butt, and try to help myself. I guess the fog lifted.

I am a Facebook user. Have been for quite a while, and while I don't have many addictions in my life, I can honestly admit that Facebook is mine. I quit once last year. Not actually quit or stopped the account, but decided to stop going on for a month. I don't know if I made it, but the plan didn't work out. I somehow ended up back on it. It hasn't gotten better. I can waste so much time on Facebook when I should be doing important things -like writing, or calling friends, or cleaning my house, or walking my dog.

In my effort to change my life, I need to get off the couch more, and spend more time actually changing my life. I don't want to get rid of Facebook because I'm in contact with so many people who I never would have kept in contact with (but wanted to). I'm always pretty picky about who I'm friends with and who I keep as my friends. I spend too much time on it though, and too much time not doing anything productive on it. I just need to control how much time I spend on it.

Last night, Cam and I went to the movie The Social Network. Somehow, seeing it made me want to slow down the Facebook using. I need to get back to real life, and spend less time in TV land or facebooking. The movie itself wasn't bad. I usually like movies that have more characters that make me like them. I watched the movie trying to figure out if the main character had any redeeming qualities other than his sarcastic humour. It definitely made me think though, and made me more interested in the real story. Either way, after watching it, I decided to go on Facebook only during the weekends, and only when I'm home.

Believe me, this is a hard addiction to beat. Modern technology has made it SO easy to Facebook with no problems. My cell phone has 'Friend Stream', if I scroll over I see every body's updates. So not only do I have to stay away from it on the computer, but not check on my phone as well.

This entry is going no where, but that's okay. I figure blogging keeps me away from Facebook. Also should help me finish the story quicker. I've just finished Day one of not going on Facebook, and while that doesn't seem all that impressive, I can guarantee that it is for me.

More changes to come: less TV, more exercise, and better eating habits (to lose weight). Also I'm going to work on budgeting, and paying off debts. It will all come someday I hope.

Until tomorrow...

Happiest day of my year (every year).



Rolo Hates the snow

 First official day of snow It started yesterday, stayed for the day. It'll probably melt by tomorrow, but it's here now. I LOVE LOVE LOVE it. I'll be adding another entry today, but for now, I just wanted to share a little bit of me that's not writing, and not unhappiness. If something as little as snow can make me feel this great, things aren't so bad.


Beautiful. Makes me smile.



It'll probably melt, but is so great!



I got him!



Playing in the backyard. Karm loves snow as much as I do.

LOVE IT.

Support System

I haven't written for the past couple of days. To be honest, that last entry took A LOT out of me. I'm not sure how I thought I would feel when I was finished, but it wasn't what I expected.

I felt empty and alone when I was done writing. I guess it didn't help that Cam was on a night shift, so I truly was alone. (except for my pets -a Chesapeake Bay Retriever named Karmen, and an orange cat named Rolo). I had a lump in my stomach, and I wasn't sure how to deal with it. I wasn't depressed about everything, I was just sad.

I've got the worst part out, but I want to continue writing. I think it's good for me, and probably good for other people to know what I went through, and what I'm going through. I've never been good at telling people how I feel, and it's gotten worse since the miscarriage. I was getting good at holding things in, which is what brings me to tonight's blog.

I'm not ready yet to write about the rest of it because it's really been a long process of healing. What I want to talk about is my support system.

I've found from others that a lot of times, you find out who your real friends are in times like these. Actually, even pregnancies, I think people start to realise that maybe some of their friends aren't the best for that situation.

I didn't experience that. I didn't have any friends I wanted to cut out of my life because of they way they reacted (or didn't react) to my pregnancy. I guess that's not true actually, it showed me the true character of the guy who got me pregnant. Other than him though, who I knew for less time than anybody else, I felt loved and supported.

After I lost the baby, I even heard from friends of friends telling me they were sorry. I received texts, emails, facebook messages, hugs and phone calls.

Cameron's mother, whom I had never met before, gave me a hug as soon as she found out. She also spoke about the situation up front and honestly.

My mom came up to Whitecourt and stayed with me after I got out of the Whitecourt hospital (the second hospital visit).

Cam brought me flowers from him, and a plant from his family. He held me, he let me cry, he listened, and he talked me through everything. He told me the honest truth, and that's what I needed.

Denise called me EVERY DAY for the first bit. I can remember one phone call when she asked out of the blue if I was eating. She's going to make a great mother. (I don't think I was eating -not starving myself, just not hungry).

A co-worker gave me a hug because he didn't know what else to say. That was all I needed. Every body I worked with was great. They came to visit me in the hospital, gave me a gift, and they gave me space and let me heal (while checking in).

My Toronto friend -I call her my twin (not sure if she wants her name mentioned), has always been supportive of my writing, and inspirational to me. It's because of her that I'm writing this. I nag her about terrible habits she has, and she nags me about not writing.

I don't think I appreciated all the good will as much as I do now. There are so many people I haven't mentioned, but every ONE of my friends helped me in some way. Even if they weren't there at the time, they still stood with me (from whereever they were) when they found out.

I'm just incredibly happy that I have the support system that I do. I'm lucky. Even through all that, I'm one of the luckiest people to have those family, those friends, and those co-workers.

That's it for tonight. I wanted to stop with the sad ones, and talk about what makes me happy in life, and what keeps (kept) me going.

Baby Loss Awareness Entry Three

The title for this would be: The End of my Pregnancy -only because I don't think calling it the miscarriage is appropriate. Maybe just The End. I think I'll leave it untitled for now.

Untitled

I started dating Cameron at the beginning of January. I may have said middle in the last entry. Sad, that I can't remember our anniversary.

The nice thing about meeting a guy from Saskatchewan was we could go home together.

We had planned a quick weekend trip to Saskatoon at the end of the month. It wasn't really a trip to meet one another's friends or family. Cam had a meeting to attend, and I had plans to go to Moose Jaw for the day to visit with my grandmother. My grandma was waiting for results to see if she had cancer. She wasn't doing well, and I really just wanted to see her.

The day before we left, I was just home from work when I noticed the bleeding. It wasn't excessive bleeding, I just noticed a bit when I went to the washroom. Believe me, I had read enough baby books (What to do When You're Expecting), to know that bleeding happens. It still scared me. I was in my 11th week. So close to the second trimester. I sat at home and worried, I phoned the hospital to ask what they thought, and the nurse said it probably wasn't anything to worry about, but I could come in and see a doctor if I wanted. I waited for Cameron to get home and phone me, and then asked if he could go with me. He did, and the doctor saw me. He didn't do anything as far as I remember. He just said that many woman bleed, but if it got worse, be sure to come in.

Cam and I left for Saskatoon the next night. I was still bleeding, and still concerned.

It's all still fresh in my mind. I want to write this, and I want to share my experience, but I'm crying while typing. Not just tearing up but crying.

It's about six hours to get to Saskatoon. It was a long and stressful drive (not the last long and stressful drive the two of us have had together). It was late when we got there, and we went to Denise and her husband's house for dinner. Denise showed me the blanket she was making for my baby. I cried, and told her what was going on. Denise is such an optimist, and she didn't want me to worry. She was sure it would all be okay.

Cam stayed the night at their house with me (even though he owns a house in Saskatoon). I was feeling unsure with the situation. I didn't know if he wanted me to stay at his place, or what he was thinking, so I just decided I'd stay at Denise's and he could make his own decision. The next morning, he left to go to his meeting, and Denise and I left to pick up my sister and head to Moose Jaw. I texted him a couple of times during the drive, but his phone had died. He stopped answering. I was still bleeding that morning. I was watching the colour because that's something you're supposed to watch. Colour and clots. It's so straight forward, and that's really how I was dealing with it.

We arrived in Moose Jaw, and Denise and I dropped my sister off at my grandma's, and then went for lunch with Karen (another best friend). Karen gave me my late Christmas present -maternity clothes. Even with my worries, it was a great lunch. I told Karen what was going on, and what my fears were. The three of us talked about everything, and I was able to tell them all of my thoughts. They are two wonderful and supportive friends. (since that moment, Karen has not only started an adoption of the cutest 2 year old ever, but she has a five month old baby boy as well).

Denise dropped me off at my Grandma's house. As I was about to go in, my mom and sister came out. They were running to the store to pick something up. I hugged my mom, and told her what was going on, and told her I was scared. I cried. She comforted me, and then I went in to see my grandma.

This is my Grandma McCrea. She's my dad's mother. She had three girls and my dad. My grandfather died when my dad was 10. I never knew him as my grandfather. Everybody loves my grandmother. She was brave, and straight forward, and funny. She was a person I aspired to be. It was breaking my heart, and the rest of my family's hearts that she was sick.

She was still grandma. I couldn't yet tell how sick she was. My aunts were very worried about her. They made her go lie down while I was there saying, "Don't worry, Erin will lie next to you!" So I did. We talked about my pregnancy, and about Cameron, and about her cancer. She was sure she didn't have cancer. We also sat in silence. It was a nice visit, and makes me so sad to say that it was the last time I ever saw her. So much was going on, and I wish so much that I had spent more time with her. We left before supper. It didn't even cross my mind when I left, that I'd never see her again. I guess I could only take one reality at a time.

Before I left, my mom gave me a present. She had bought baby clothes while out with my sister. She hugged me, and said, "This baby will be okay, and so will you." I wish she had been right. I'll never forget those words. I will also always think of them with tears in my eyes.

We drove back to Saskatoon. I think mostly in silence. I knew the bleeding was getting worse, and was concerned. The weather was bad, and I still hadn't heard from Cameron. I did get a text from the father, asking if we should meet up to talk. I told him I was in Saskatoon. Also -according to facebook he had been back for a couple of days... so I didn't care about making him wait longer. Also wasn't ready to tell him I'd already called a lawyer.

When we got back to Denise's house, I told her the bleeding wasn't getting any better, and she encouraged me to call the health line. (I'm a HUGE fan of the health line). They -in turn- encouraged me to go to a hospital. Denise drove me to the emergency room. By the way -the emergency room, on a Saturday night -CRAZY. Busy and full of crazy people. We had a lot of distractions at least. We were in the emergency room until 3 in the morning. I had one doctor look at me, and then we waited for an ultrasound. This is a University hospital, so while the staff is great and professional, they're also young and new. The doctor that came in to do my ultrasound looked in silence, and hummed and hawed. Then he told me, he didn't see anything. He was concerned about that, and told me I'd have to come back in the morning for a 'real' ultrasound tech to take a look. We got home late ( early), and I waited for a call in the morning for them to tell me to come back.

I probably slept, but not for very long. I got the call in the morning to come in, and Denise and I went straight back. I finally called Cam, and told him where I was. It was a message though because his phone was still dead. He had no idea. While we were waiting for the ultrasound (MORE waiting), Denise spoke to Cam's mom, and she went to his house with his phone charger. He called and spoke to me, and said he'd meet us at the hospital. By the time he got there, we were back in the regular waiting room waiting for a doctor to tell me the results. Ultrasound techs have very good poker faces, and don't give away anything. Cam came in, and put his arms around me. He was a rock already.

How lucky was I to be in that hospital with my two rocks. Denise was there for me through everything, and I can never repay her, and can only hope that I can be as good of a friend as she is to me. Cameron supported me and was honest with me, and was willing to help me through the pain of losing a baby that wasn't his.

We finally got taken into a room (the bad news room), and a new young doctor came in to speak to us. He was probably the most unprofessional of all of them. Cam and I sat together, and Denise sat in a chair. He told me I was miscarrying, and there were no longer babies -that's right, he thought it was twins. It felt like he was speaking to and staring at Cam the whole time. He obviously assumed Cam was the father, but either way, I felt like he should be a bit more concerned about the person who was losing her baby. Denise had the most obvious reaction. She cried openly (to the point that the doctor stopped speaking and asked if she was okay). Here's something else he said that I'll never forget. As he walked out of the room he mentioned getting his girlfriend pregnant, and now they have a kid and are getting married. I'm not sure if that was supposed to give me hope. He also told us that 50% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. (that includes heavy bleeding that could be confused with having a period). It shocked me. It doesn't now.

As we left the hospital, Cam went to get the car, and Denise said to me, "To me, I'm sad because it was your baby, but I can understand if you and Cameron have different feelings about it." She was right. She would be the babies aunty no matter what, but Cam and I would have had to figure out how to deal with me having a baby by another father. We would have dealt with it, but it was no longer an issue.

At that point, I was just exhausted and sad. I was also confused. This is going to sound bad, but it felt like I lost something I never had. It was growing in my tummy for such a small amount of time, that I didn't even notice any differences in my body. I knew the baby was there, and I loved her or him, but I was still a bit disconnected then.

Actually, I had already started a journal for the baby. I think I still have that as well. I glued in a picture of the pregnancy test, and a picture of me the first day I found out. I wrote letters to her or him. I guess I wasn't as disconnected as I thought. I just remembered that.

We drove home to Whitecourt that day. On the way home, I called everyone. Called or texted. I had to tell people then, and get it over with. My mom cried. She was as upset, if not more upset than me. (Kind of like how Denise felt, I guess). It was my close friends and family I told. I also texted the father to tell him I had lost it. He replied back asking how I was, and I didn't answer. That was the end.

I've mentioned my sister in passing, but she's important to the story as well. Jodi and I email every single day, catching up on important things, or talking about things that aren't so important (General Hospital), so through the whole thing, I had her support, her love, and her excitement for me to be a mom, and for her to be an aunt. I also had her sympathy, and knew she would be there when I needed.

The biggest thing about the whole situation, was I had never been a maternal kind of girl. I don't relate to kids, and am a bit scared of babies. I never knew if I wanted to me a mom. Now, I do. I want to be a mom. (I've also gotten over the fear of holding babies).

I didn't go to work that week, but I heard and received emails from coworkers and friends. Here is the statement that isn't needed when somebody is going through a tragedy. "Everything Happens for a Reason." I'm sure if I wanted to find a meaning right then, I would have, but it didn't help. It just frustrated me. Looking back, I find meaning, but it wasn't important to know at that point. That's also when I found out how many others had lost a baby. It was a shared experience.

You'd think this would be the end of the story. Apparently, the miscarriage wasn't over. The doctor had told me if the cramps or bleeding got worse to go to the hospital. I assumed if that were to happen, it would be sooner than later. It was a week later. I was sitting at home, in pain when I finally asked my friend Brittany to drive me to the emergency room. It was to the point that I didn't feel comfortable driving myself.

The actual miscarrying was the worst pain I've been through. I didn't know it would be like that. I don't need to get into it, but thank goodness for pain killers. I was in the hospital for the weekend, and when I left, there was nothing left. I was no longer pregnant. It was two weeks of misery and two weeks of losing the babies.

The physical pain was over. I had to deal with the emotional pain after that. This is enough for tonight though. I have cried a lot. Luckily, I'm drinking a glass of wine, and watching Friends on DVD so I can look up and laugh when I need to.

If anybody is reading this, thanks. Okay, going to do a quick edit, and then pressing publish post again.

Baby Loss Awareness Entry Two

I know the title is not creative at all, but it's all I could think of. If I were to title them, the first would be "The Father" (maybe), this one would be titled "The Pregnancy"

The Pregnancy

I may repeat a few things in this one, but I'm planning to not speak about the father at all. He had no part other than what was already written.

I had a doctor's appointment in November of 2008. I think it was the end of November (maybe the start of December). I went because I wanted birth control. I was pregnant during the appointment. The doctor didn't catch it. I knew I was late so when I went to the pharmacy, I bought both birth control and a pregnancy test.

I only told one friend that I was considering taking it. She lives in Toronto, so I texted her while buying it, asking if she thought it was strange that I bought both at once. We both joked, I believe. Even though I was buying the pregnancy test, I didn't really believe the result would be positive.

Early in the morning, I went into the washroom and peed on a stick. As soon as I saw the result, I texted my friend. "I'm pregnant!" She asked if I was sure, and I was. I had bought the expensive test that says 'pregnant' or 'not pregnant'. My friend found out before I left the washroom that morning. It's pretty easy to tell somebody through texting.

The result was shocking. I didn't know what to do, or who to tell. So I went to work. I was sitting in my office which I shared with a coworker. She must have sensed something because even though people were in and out of the room, I received a blackberry message from her asking if I was okay. So, once again, I told somebody the news by texting it. She hugged me and told me how happy she was about it, and I cried. It may have been the first time I cried -but NOT the last. One of the announcers came in while I was crying, but we didn't explain.

The day was a blur. I was in sales at a radio station, but I am pretty sure I didn't make any calls that day. I had an event to go to that day for a remote. The sales manager called me into his office, and explained how we were having phone problems, but it wouldn't ruin the remote. Then he asked me if that's why I was crying earlier. It was funny to imagine crying over something so small when I was going through something so big. I tried not to tell him, but he kept guessing what I was upset about, and it just came out. He was a good boss, and I felt at many times that I could go into the office to talk about anything.

I remember so much even though it was quite a long time ago. Strange how it all still sticks in my mind like it was yesterday. Although I seriously remember most of the conversation, it's not all important. He was happy for me, and scared for me. Also, he said he was happy that I was talking about keeping it. That surprised me because I didn't consider abortion.

I need to say this before I go on. Just because I didn't have an abortion does not mean I'm pro-life. I think the decision to have an abortion is a horrible decision for somebody to make. I don't judge. I can only imagine, that if I had made that decision, I'd need as much support as I could.

However, the thought did not even cross my mind. I knew I was going to have the baby, and I knew I would raise it alone. My boss also pointed out I was already touching (holding) my belly. I hadn't noticed that.

One other thing I remember about my conversation with him, and this actually came later in the day, but it's the most important thing that he said to me. "I don't want to worry you, but my wife had a miscarriage with her first pregnancy." To some, that may seem mean, but to me, I found it respectful and honest. It's a realistic thought, and it's something anybody needs to consider. Especially in their first trimester. I am realistic about life, but I also had lived a life with no tragedy, and was in the 'it won't happen to me' stage of my life. I won't be in that stage again.

I knew in my head I shouldn't tell anyone because of the obvious. (and what the whole story is leading to). I told people. I've never been one for secrets. I love to talk, and I hate holding things in. Once again, I've learned my lesson.

I called my best friend in Saskatoon at lunch that day. I told her, and she was so excited. I remember her talking about my boyfriend, and imagining our family together, but also we both knew it wasn't going to happen. Shortly after finding out, she bought a ticket to fly up and see me.

While writing this, I have teared up more than once. Not important to the story, but maybe it will give an idea of who I am. She knew I needed somebody, and she came. I can't ask for anything more than that. Her role only gets bigger in this story. She wasn't coming until the middle of December.

By the end of the first night, I had basically told my everybody I work with, and two friends. That's a lot of people. The next day I told my sister and my soon to be ex boyfriend. I won't repeat that story.

The only people left to tell were my parents. It took me a week. In fact, I spoke to my mom once and didn't tell her.

When I finally called her, it was the day of my staff Christmas Party. Possibly my first party that I would be not drinking at. I stood in my kitchen and told her. She was obviously in shock, but did say she thought something was going in on from our last conversation. Accidentally pregnant at 28 and afraid to tell her parents... My parents have wanted to be grandparents for a VERY long time, so even though they were surprised, they were happy. After I got off the phone with them, I began getting ready for the party. My mom phoned back, and had obviously gotten over the shock. She asked if she could tell people. I said yes, especially considering how many people I had already told. I figured a few more wouldn't make a difference. My mom and I were in the 'safe bubble'. We weren't yet used to bad things happening -or tragedy, as I already said.

My mom told her father, and my dad told his mother. (my grandparents). Their reactions were similar, 'That's Erin.' I thought this was kind of a sad reaction. Only because it seems to me somebody who gets pregnant accidentally is a bit of a screw up. It made me feel like they felt that way about me. They weren't surprised. I think I read too much into it.

There was a certain moment, and I can remember it so clearly. I was driving home from Wing Wednesday  when I felt calm. I felt it settle over me. That's when I knew, it was okay. I knew I could be a mom, and I was prepared to do it alone. I guess I was at peace with my situation, and it felt good.

I guess there are moments of the pregnancy I don't remember. I'll skip to when my friend came to visit. Denise came to visit. (I don't want to have a lot of names in this, but those who know me, know Denise anyway).

Back story time: This is pretty important to everything. When I moved to Whitecourt, Denise knew somebody who also lived here. Her coworker, had a son living in Whitecourt. She had given me his phone number. It wasn't really a set up, but it sort of was. She wanted me to be able to meet people here, and he was a cute guy who lived in the same town. Strange how with one phone call, I could have met him, and it would have been so easy. Instead, I went through all the work of setting up an online profile, and meeting a stranger.  So, long story short, I didn't call him.

That's the back story. She decided when she came to visit to call him. Actually, her exact words were, 'If you haven't heard from the father, I'm calling Cameron!'.  I'm letting his name slip into the story as well -because he's in it.

She called him, and we all met up for supper. I liked him instantly, but didn't really believe that it would come to anything. I probably wished it would, but could have settle for his friendship. He was charismatic, and funny. He was nice. He also already knew I was pregnant. Denise had already told his mom, and she had passed along the news.

He came with us to Edmonton the next day to drop Denise off at the airport. I was upset for most of the drive, and cried at the mall. It was so nice having somebody there who knew me, and loved me. It's another moment that stands out because Cam saw me crying, and said, "You guys are best friends, aren't you?" I don't even think that's important, and if I were to try to get this published, I'd edit it out. It just seemed like such a simple statement that said SO much. I didn't want my best friend to go.

We talked a lot on the way home. Talked and listened to music. It was nice and it was comfortable. I found him easy to talk to, and comfortable to be with.

When I dropped him off at his house, he offered his friendship. I happily accepted. We were each heading home for Christmas, so wouldn't meet up again until the New Year.

Christmas and New Year were pretty quiet. I got baby gifts already. Just little things. I still have some of them, in my baby box downstairs.

I came home and got back to work. Cameron called me, and we made plans to go to Edmonton together so he could drop off a rental car, and come back with me. We hung out, and shopped, and got to know each other.

When we got home, we decided to go to visit my friends the next day in a town about three hours away. I liked that he wanted to do these spur of the moment things with me. This has nothing to do with the pregnancy, but everything to do with a relationship that we were about to begin. We began it. We skipped the dating part though, and went straight to being in a relationship. We moved too quickly -more quickly than I've ever moved.

He had no idea, but he was about to stick through the hardest part of my life.

Which ends this blog entry. The hardest part is yet to come. I'm hoping to write it tomorrow, but I end up staying up later and later every night, so we'll see how I feel. There should only be one more part, and it's obvious what it is. (Won't stop me from sharing).

By the way, as with the other entry (and most of them), I've read through it once to edit and find grammar mistakes. That doesn't mean I've found them all. It's almost 2 in the morning, and I have a habit of rushing.

Baby Loss Awareness Entry One

As far as I can tell, October is a month to recognize baby loss awareness, but it seems to be in the UK more than anywhere else. I've attached a web address for the one in the UK. There is also a facebook group, and that's how I first heard about it.

http://www.babyloss-awareness.org/

For this day, for this cause, I'm going to tell my story. It's one of my stories, but an important one. I'm starting late, so I may not be able to finish it before I need to sleep. It's probably not hard to figure out what this story is about, and I've made no secrets about it. Frankly, I think the topic of miscarriage is more taboo than it should be. It felt to me that people didn't tell me about their experiences until I had lost the baby. While it was good to hear that other people had a shared experience, it was a surprise to me how many had lost a baby.

I've both read and heard about other miscarriage stories. Mine is different. I guess everybody believes that they have different stories. Most of the stories I've heard about married couples who have been trying to have a baby, and they lose it. This seems worse than what I went through. These people had planned to bring a baby into the world to love and care for. I didn't.

I'm not sure where to start with this story. I guess the father. I met him online. I had just moved to my new town, and I didn't know anybody. After being single, for a few years (other than flings), I decided I wanted to be in a relationship. I just didn't know how to meet anybody. It was my first attempt with online dating. Hopefully my last. There weren't a lot of men to pick from. I started sending messages to one particular guy who lived out of town, and had a job that required him to be gone two weeks at a time, back one week, and gone again. It doesn't seem like a desirable pick, but I decided to go for supper with him.

To make a long story short, it wasn't love. I was so focused on trying to make the relationship work that I didn't stop to think that the relationship was going nowhere. I thought he was funny, and I thought his roommates were funny. They were fun, and they loved to drink. Looking back, I only liked him half the time. I thought he was moody, and irritating. His profile was much better than he was. We were together four months. Somebody pointed out after that, it was actually a 6 week relationship since he was gone most of the time.

I'm not very good at taking things slow. I can admit that. I easily jump into situations, relationships, and life. I don't stop to think. I do things too quickly, which is probably why I end up getting hurt. Actually, looking back I can see that's something different in me now. I'm scared of life. I started dating him, and I was not on birth control. We were unsafe. It's not something I like to admit, and it's scary to think how precarious I was with my own life. I told him from the start that I wasn't on birth control, and we needed to use condoms. He didn't always listen, and I didn't always stop him.

I guess, I'm lucky that the only thing that happened was getting pregnant. No STI's, no HIV -just a surprise pregnancy. It wasn't at all an attempt to get pregnant, or a way to 'keep my man'. It was not planned, and a bit of a shock.

I found out the first week of December. The father was at work (so gone). I knew when he'd be back, and was ready to finally tell him. I had already spilled the beans to coworkers. I knew in my head, that it wasn't a good idea (I knew the risks), but I guess I didn't believe anything could really happen. My heart and stomach were nervous and twisting at having to tell the father, and my parents.

When he came back, I had expected him to call. He didn't. I called him -he didn't respond to my messages. I knew that without knowing I was pregnant, he was probably planning to break up with me. I felt it, and believe it or not, I didn't care. At that point, a break up was the least of my worries. He wasn't answering my calls, so I went to his house. He wasn't home, but his suitcase was there, so I knew he'd be there some time. When he got home, he came and sat next to me. I told him we needed to talk. I'm sure he was thinking that I would break up with him. He probably thought that would make his life a lot easier. Instead, I shocked him with the news of my pregnancy. It all felt so wrong. He didn't want to be with me, and I had no idea what I wanted. Instead of manning up and breaking up with me, he slept with me. That -was the most hurtful, horrible way I've ever been treated. In the end, it didn't matter.

I slept over at his place that night. It's important to mention that this was also the last time I ever saw him. In the morning, we didn't speak. Finally, I told him I was leaving. I went to start my car, and came in while waiting for it to warm up. I had a bit of a breakdown. My first of many. I cried. He came to me and apologised for not knowing what to say. We stood in silence. And then I left.

This recap is sounding very matter of fact. My heart was breaking, but not over him. It was breaking over the things that were happening. I wasn't unhappy about the pregnancy, but I wasn't prepared from it. The next day, I saw on facebook that he was 'leaving town, to where, he didn't know'.

He was gone over Christmas, and I never heard from him until I emailed him to ask what he was thinking. I told him in the email that I knew he was planning to break up with me, and I didn't care about that, I just wanted to know what his plans were. He emailed back telling me we'd talk when he came back from work, but he was planning to break up with me, and he didn't believe we should stay together for a baby. He did want to help though. It made me angry because I didn't want to stay together, he just assumed. It was over, and I didn't care, and neither did he. I knew it was over the day I told him I was pregnant. I have a lot of resentment towards him. Towards any man who runs instead of facing what needs to be faced.

I'm glad I got the first bit done. In my next entry, I plan to talk about the pregnancy going to the beginning. So even though, I've skipped bits this time, I just wanted to get the most insignificant part of the story out of the way. I can't write it all in one blog. I thought I could, but all the stories are separate. So Entry One: the un-man who got me pregnant. Entry Two: -the pregnancy.

We'll see how it goes from there.

I'm not sure who is reading this, but please respect what I'm writing about. This is hard for me. I've wanted to write about it for some time, and am taking a major and scary step by publishing it for all to read. (do one thing a day that scares you: pressing Publish Post is it).

What used to be fiction

I used to write so much. I wrote true things in my journal, and fiction for others to read. To be perfectly honest, I was pretty good. I put myself into the story, and was able to feel things that I had never experienced in a different character.

I can't do that anymore. I keep trying, but I'm not able to finish a short story. I do much better at writing non-fiction. Well -I would do better, if I sat down and started. I may have found it easier to write fiction when I was naive, and hadn't experienced life. Now, my head is full of my own life, and things that are happening to people I know.

I've got a lot of memories and plans rolling around in my head lately. I'm pretty sure it's because my 30th is looming. (I mean REALLY looming as it's September 11th).

I'm actually not sad to be growing older. I love new phases. My 20s were great and busy, and I'm so proud of what I did. However, I feel like I'm still so behind in life. I guess, it's the stereotypes I feel like I'm behind in. I'm turning 30, and I don't have a career or a husband or kids. I can understand not having all three, but I really wanted something. I've been focusing on my career, I guess. I mean, why else would I have gotten a University degree and then go back for a Broadcasting diploma? I had hoped radio was my career. Actually I still hope radio will be a career, it just can't be in sales. Which means, I have to take a break from radio until I can find something.

Once again, I've gotten off the topic. I don't have either of these. (I'm including marriage and kids as one, even though it isn't necessary). I want a career, but if I have to work a crap job while still writing, that's fine, as long as I'm writing, and as long as the writing is going somewhere. (I do want a great job too though). The marriage and kids... well I don't have them yet. However, I've found a man that I love more than anything. We live together in a great house, and have a cat and a dog. That's a family. We aren't married -we aren't even engaged, but we're happy and in love. I should be happy with that. I am happy with that. Kids is a topic I'll have to get into later. Too much for the 30 post.

When I was just a kid, I wrote letters to myself to open when I turned 20. It's something that makes me feel great about me as a kid. I loved writing even then. I opened them all September 11, 2000. That day, I decided to write myself letters for another 10 years to open September 11, 2010. I don't know what to expect. There have been drastic changes from my first letter to the last. My 20s were a whirlwind of experiences and life. I might have to take a bit of alone time on that day.

I guess, I have to go into my 30s with more goals because I'm at a point in my life, where they feel important. Things that will make me a better person, things I want, fun goals and life goals. I'll probably share them here.

This isn't what I had planned this post to be, but I guess that's the way I am. Too many things rolling around in my head -as I said. I have to get them out one thing at a time.

I'll try to write tomorrow. No promises though.

Melfort

It's getting late. It always seems to be late when I write. I put it off. Maybe it's because I have too many stories to tell. I'm either scared to tell them, or too lazy to tell them. I've thought about so many different things to talk about since the last entry. I wanted to start with an easy story. Believe me, these past couple of years have not been 'easy stories'. That's in my opinion. I guess that's the point of a blog. My hard luck stories are probably not even close to real hard luck stories.

However, for most of my life, as I like to say, I was living in a bubble. I understood difficulties, but I had never truly experienced them. The worst I had experienced by the time I was 25 was death of pets and break ups. To be honest, the break ups weren't bad. The most painful one was when I was turning 25. I was in Korea, and broke up with my boyfriend of five years. That was hard, but looking back, not as hard as it should have been. Either way, I was still in my bubble.

The stories I have are from beyond the bubble. The one I wanted to start with was about my condo, and the people I rented it to, but that's so far into my bubble being popped, that it may cause confusion.

I have a different blog about Korea. Which, I hate to say, but that's where life started for me. That's where I lost some of my insecurities, and began to live life. I stopped caring, and just did. That was probably naivety as well, but that's the way I stayed for a few years. Either way, I'm not going to start any stories from Korea because while they were important to the way I am now, they have already been read. I plan to someday write about my experiences there (a book would be great), but not here. This is the place for me to be brave and talk about all those things I haven't.

I'm going to start in Melfort. I stopped writing in broadcasting school. I lived in Saskatoon at that point. To be honest during the duration of Broadcasting school and being a receptionist at Leon's Furniture, I was pretty precarious with my life. And I don't mean in dare devil experiences. I should have cared more about myself when it came to flings and relationships because although I loved being single, I was actually pretty desperate. I don't know how to explain it because I'm no longer there. It's like I was scared of relationships, but I wanted one so badly.

Either way, I moved to Melfort for radio. Instead of going into broadcasting, I went into Creative Writing in radio. I wrote the commercials. And I loved it.

What I had trouble with was Melfort Saskatchewan. (I just googled it, but haven't found the population yet, I think it's around 8000). I found it quite clique, and had trouble finding a group. I wanted friends, but found myself travelling to Saskatoon a lot to see my old ones. I had work friends, but they were married, with kids, and were happy. I loved that, but felt bad for myself.

I feel like I should mention that at this point in my life, even though I was 27 in Melfort, I did not have my driver's licence. It's really something I was truly embarrassed to admit. I didn't get it in high school because I was scared to, in University I took the bus and didn't need it. In Korea we had a subway system, and I had no reason at all to drive. While I lived in Saskatoon, I walked everywhere, took the bus, and relied on friends. However, when I was in Melfort, I wanted to get out. What should have been an hour and a half drive to Saskatoon took about four hours on bus.

Finally, I asked for help. I do not ask for help easily. When I asked, I cried because I was so embarrassed. My boss (who was my age) took me driving, and let me drive her truck for the test. I passed and had my license. It was that easy. Makes you wonder why I didn't go earlier.

You have no idea how long that was on my New Year Resolution list. The list started looking pretty empty after that.

Back to how I got to where I am now. While in Melfort, although I loved my job, I craved moving out of Melfort. Let me make myself clear, I loved my job, and I loved my coworkers. I had a great time everyday that I was at work. To be honest, I miss it to this day. My job was to write every day. I gave it up so move. That was my motive. I wanted to get out of Melfort. I wanted to start my life and Melfort wasn't the place for a single girl (especially with no single guys). I wrote commercials for a 'sister' radio station in Whitecourt Alberta. I loved it, but wished I lived in this far off town. I was given the opportunity when they needed to replace a sales person. Account Executive... My bosses convinced me (although they were in sales as well), that I would love the job.

I was ready for something new, and looked forward to the new experience. My travel bug instincts were in full force and I was ready.

That's Melfort. Not as exciting as the rest. Exciting may be the wrong word, but it's close.

I'm going to try to proof read now. But really, I'll probably just press spell check. Which means nothing for the real proof reading... but it's late. So hopefully tomorrow, I'll fix any mistakes.

I have a story to tell

It will have to wait though. I promised my friend that I would write every day, so that's why this post is only a line. It's almost 1am, and I work tomorrow. It'll be a good story though. I promise. (a real story, not a made up one... I'm not ready to share my fiction with the world yet). Sorry, I know this is cheating!

Do One Thing A Day That Scares You

"Do one thing a day that scares you'. I have a lulu lemon bag that sits in my bathroom (It holds bathroom stuff), and that's one of the things it says. It has a lot of inspirational saying, but that's the one I notice first. In fact, I'll probably be quoting more from the bag in different posts.

I've already hopped off the topic. For a while in my life, I was completely comfortable with myself, with my life, and I felt invincible. I felt like I could do anything, and nothing scared me. Since than, life has kicked me, and I've changed. I'm scared of a lot more. In other words, to do one thing a day that scares me, shouldn't be hard to do. I'm scared of a lot of things. However, it feels like I've been letting life pass me by.

While, I don't think I'll be bungee jumping anytime soon, just coming back to this blog is a little bit scary to me. I know I'm a good writer, but I'm planning to write things here that are personal. I'm planning on at some point telling the story about life kicking me when I'm down. Not today though. I need to start slowly.

The other worry I have about blog writing is that I don't have a lot to say that deems important enough to write in a blog (in my opinion). If you've looked at the other entries, they're not very interesting. Possibly because I haven't made them interesting. I loved writing when I traveled. It seemed like it was something people enjoyed reading, and a great way to remember my trip. As well, I love reading blogs from people travelling, and doing exciting things. Or people going through scary things. I highly recommend The Bees Knees. You should be able to google it. It's about a very brave woman (only in her late 20s) going through a battle with breast cancer. She was candid and honest about everything, and let people know what she was going through. It was well written, and so very sad.

Those are the blogs that people should read. I'm not there. This is going to be about my thoughts and my life. When I get brave enough, I will be completely candid, and talk about the last few years.

Obviously, because the last entry was written in 2007, and it's now 2010 a lot has changed. So to quickly update on my life, I'm living in Whitecourt Alberta right now. I came here for a sales position at the local country radio station. I LOVED working in radio (before sales, I was a Creative Writer for the commercial), but I didn't love sales. I met Cameron here. He'll be mentioned a lot.
That's enough for now. I'm going to try to write a lot, but I can't guarantee that.

Erin