Chapter Twenty-two: Self-Acceptance

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I think sometimes I had this notion in my mind that once the bathroom scale flashed a certain number, or if I could shop in specific stores, or if my dress size met the standard of beauty that was “bestowed” upon me, I might finally be viewed as worthy enough. Worthy of what? I’m not entirely sure, but there is always a part of me that felt like once those pieces of me were perfect, I would feel whole.

When letting go of weight or losing weight, I guess it depends on whether it comes back—either way, it didn’t change how I felt about myself. Once I lost 80 pounds, I could look in the mirror and think, “It’s just one less thing I have to worry about on top of a long list of other things I stress over.” Still, suddenly, I dealt with getting attention from many people who viewed me as something I didn’t see myself as, and I felt entirely uncomfortable because I hadn’t healed emotionally.

I thought my issue was the weight itself when it was just a symptom of me trying to keep people at arm’s length, and when that was taken away, I was suddenly left with the realization that I didn’t have that protective barrier anymore. Eventually, the weight returned, and I could isolate myself from the world and essentially lose myself in my sadness, which I succeeded at doing for quite some time.

The problem was never the weight. The issue stemmed from being taught untruths about myself and that I lacked value because people in the world deemed my appearance less than theirs, and I could never see myself accurately due to those early wounds. There are probably some issues with body dysmorphia because I remember moving out of the way on the bus while I was with a friend, and she commented that I seemed to think that I took up more space than I did.

I just felt like every person who hit on me during that period of my life was fooled by some mirage that they couldn’t quite see through, and I was terrified of letting them in out of fear they would be disappointed if they saw me for who I was. So, I stayed away and didn’t date since dating sucks, and I had major fears about intimacy. My hair started to fall out eventually, which was brutal and did a number on my egoic self. I hope I can regain that in my heart someday, but I know I will be okay no matter what.

I eventually shaved my head, providing more peace than I had anticipated. I know objectively, other people may not understand and see it as a mistake because I looked less attractive afterwards. Still, it wasn’t a choice based on desirability but rather one of necessity. In my mind, it had become like a diseased limb that needed to be removed to move forward with my life, and its removal from my body signified an end to dwelling on the things I could not change.

In all honesty, I genuinely like who I am as a person, and I love so many of my qualities. Whether I meet a specific beauty standard has no bearing on how I feel about who I am as a person. Beauty is subjective, and although there are many universally attractive people in the world, I will not argue against this fact. Still, something must be said about the entire picture of a person and whether that person makes you feel happy and safe.

Falling in love helps let us see ourselves from a different vantage point, and falling in love with yourself is one of the best things you can do because you start to realize how valuable you are and what you bring to the table.  I could change every aspect of my personality and physical appearance, and the person I’m trying to impress might leave anyway, and then what am I left with? I feel like I’ve lost pieces of myself and wound up alone, regardless.

I’m unsure of how universal these feelings are; perhaps others might not relate to these thoughts, but love has always been elusive. For some reason, I have wrapped up so much of my self-acceptance into romantic relationships. When it always comes back to loving yourself first. If you don’t love yourself first, you might wind up not appreciating your love, or you’ll find someone who doesn’t enjoy the love you have to offer. So, you should take time and find the beauty within yourself to see that beauty in other people.

Sometimes, it just takes one person to transmute our self-image and make us realize those parts of ourselves that we find shameful and unlovable are non-issues. You feel more at ease and perfect despite your incredibly imperfect. These interactions can help, but no matter what, it always comes from loving who you are on the inside and realizing that you are worthy. And I strongly recommend repeating these affirmations to yourself: I am worthy of love. I am worthy of devotion. I am deserving of respect. I am a good friend, and people enjoy my company. And I am worthy of relationships where I feel at ease with myself.

Because we are not meant to spend our days in the company of others who merely tolerate us, and if you find yourself in group situations where you feel that way, it’s always good practice to find new friends. It’s not worth your self-respect and time to be around people who make you think you’re undeserving of being in their presence.

Just remember that the more you recognize those pieces of yourself that are part of why you are incredible and marvel at your uniqueness, the better off you are, and the better off the rest of the world is because you don’t know what kind of impact you can have on someone else’s life. Because keeping yourself small and hidden away from the world isn’t the way to make a difference in the lives of others.

Remember that there is a reason for being here, and you’re just as important as anyone else. Take some time to be gentle with yourself and find the light within. You are so beautiful, my friend, and that beauty has nothing to do with the colour of your hair and how expensive your clothes are. It’s about remembering your divinity and realizing all the beautiful things that make you—you! I wish nothing but the best for you and hope this book finds you well.

Chapter Twenty-One: Unexpected Gifts

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My father passed away suddenly, but not surprisingly, on February 14, 2023. He passed without warning in the literal sense, but I felt he would soon be leaving this world and knew it wasn’t long until he “shuffled off his mortal coil.” I received a call from his brother, but I already knew. Within the days that preceded his passing, I found an old birthday card from his mother, which still had some of his childhood photos in it, and I had this vague sense that he would be leaving soon.

I remember seeing my uncle’s name on Facebook Messenger requesting my phone number, and I knew what those words meant. I had thought about how I might feel when he died for years. We weren’t close, but I grew to appreciate and genuinely love the man, albeit from a distant yet compassionate approach. I had longed for a closer connection to him for most of my life. Still, in the years before his passing, I became very much at peace with my feelings regarding our connection and his inability to fully commit to being a father figure.

I remember it hit harder than I expected, and the emotional wave that followed was somewhat overwhelming. I think when he died, my dream of being a fully-fledged family member on his side of the family died, too, and as a result, I chose to attend his celebration of life ceremony put on by his friends in Vancouver, BC, namely due to the cost and only being able to attend one event. The trip itself was a bit of a challenge since I had just begun working as a temp in an office that seemed genuinely irritated rather than concerned or compassionate about the fact that I had just lost a parent and for the simple fact that I didn’t have the money to fly out to BC.

I often followed my intuition over logic and decided to make it work. I booked a direct flight from Halifax to Vancouver, and immediately after I sat down, the woman sitting next to me asked me if I would be OK with switching seats with her husband, who was across the aisle from me. When I did, I realized I was sitting next to an empty seat for the duration of the flight.

I got off in Vancouver, hopped on the sky train, and went through the city streets looking for my bed for the week, which was the least expensive hostel I could find. It sat atop a very loud bar, and coincidentally, my father’s celebration of life was held on St. Patrick’s Day weekend. And I remember waking up at 3:00 AM to bagpipes being played below me; thank God for earplugs.

My father’s name was Patrick, and he was proud of his Irish heritage, so it just felt right that I was there. I honestly hadn’t slept that well in months. I was offered by a woman from Iceland who was doing a practicum up north to travel to Vancouver Island and stay in a hostel with her there, but by the time I went to book a bed for the night, they were completely sold out, so I decided to stay where I was.

I was incredibly nervous on the day of his celebration of life, but I decided to leave incredibly early to ensure I arrived on time. I had to travel by sky train and bus to get there and ended up missing my stop and having to backtrack about two kilometres. It was the most beautiful weather of the entire trip, and it was such a welcome gift to walk alongside some water and sunshine before meeting his friends. Several bald eagles flew above me, and I could see some of their massive nests. I’ve always had such an affinity for those animals that I felt very at peace with how the day would unfold, and I think it allowed me to trust even more in the process.

I had arrived early and went to walk into the room; I was incredibly nervous and self-conscious, but I walked in confidently and approached this beautiful woman with blonde hair in the corner. I introduced myself, and she told me my father had once dated. To say that I was shocked would be an understatement, but it made me happy to know that he had, however brief it might have been, he had been in love with someone so kind and so beautiful.

There are just some people you meet, and you know immediately that they are among the kindest of souls; I felt comforted by the fact that he dated someone like her. That meant that it said something about who he was as a person and that it helped me cope with my love life at the time and how precious our time, connections, and experiences genuinely are.

I was walking around the room and introducing myself to people here and there, and eventually, someone gave the first speech. I decided immediately to say something because I would only be afforded this opportunity once, and I didn’t want to have any regrets after the event. I spoke briefly, with my voice barely holding it together and my eyes full of tears. I told them all, “that although I did not know my father very well, it was a testament to hear such beautiful words about him and to know so many people loved him so much.”

It was a wonderful day, and I spoke with many of his friends and so many of them could see so much of him in me, and I feel like my presence gave them comfort in knowing that he lived on in some fashion regardless of their beliefs around death and spirituality. During the celebration of life, I took a few photos and left with his ex-girlfriend. We spoke at length about him, and she told me all the nice things that he had told others about me, which I never really heard from him directly, but our drive back to the city gave me more insight into my own life and my connections to men how I could quickly draw parallels between their relationship and the relationship I was experiencing in my own life at the time. I found it profoundly comforting in some strange way.

But I found in the weeks that followed the event I was torn up inside for going to his celebration of life. I kept recounting all the beautiful things I had heard that day. I kept reminding myself that their memories differed strongly from mine because I stood in a room filled with love. I heard all these stories from people I didn’t know. They knew exactly who I was and heard amazing things about me when I had never heard those words. I needed to listen to them the most, and I struggled to reconcile my ambivalent feelings around my father and his passing. I struggled with knowing that even though he felt all those things about me, he was never able to verbalize it.

One of the last messages I ever sent my father was about how much I appreciated him and how he flew across the country to see me when I was eight. While he was in town, we spent the day together, and we were just about to watch the movie, Toy Story. We were standing inside a movie theatre when we heard a question asked over the radio station playing in the lobby.

The question was, “Who played “Hamm in the movie Toy Story?” And my father said, “It’s John Ratzenburg,” under his breath. I remember urging him to call into the radio station, which he did, winning the prize and giving it to me. It was a great day and a memory that I have always cherished. The reality was I felt like my father, and I shared a lot of similar characteristics and ways of thinking about things and appreciated certain forms of art in the same ways that other family members might not have shown much interest in. I love the TV show Jeopardy! which my father applied for many years ago. He never made it onto the show, but we always shared that same love for random knowledge.

I was left mourning all the missed opportunities around spending time with one another. I don’t think he realized how much I had longed to have him in my life and how much I appreciated those brief interactions with him. We often long for elusive things and connections that seem tenuous at best and do not fully appreciate the people there for us 100% of the time. The ones that make us feel truly loved and do so much without reservation.

My mom is a giver in every sense of the word. She goes out of her way perpetually to help others and fully lives life from a heart-centred approach. I often think about how indicative it is within the feminine experience and how often women play the most unappreciated roles. It’s one thing to give a significant gift that comes at the perfect time and helps alleviate stress. It’s another thing to consistently be there 100% of the time, helping pick someone up when they fall, and being that solid rock and foundation allowing a person to flourish when, under other circumstances, they might have faltered and then been swept away by unruly events and turbulent emotions.

It’s something to be recognized because she has been a gift from God, and I am only the person I am because of how she helped mold me. And the reality is that had my father played a more prominent role in my life; I likely would be less of who I am now, possibly in worse ways. Not because his presence was overtly detrimental, but I’m not sure if he knew how to be a father fully, and those moments that hurt the most would have been amplified if he had been in my life more than he was. I am so grateful for both my parents, and I’m so thankful that I had such a strong, confident, capable, and loving powerhouse of a mother who helped pave the way for me in so many ways while also ensuring that I continually stay humble and always look for opportunities to be in service.


 

Chapter Twenty: I Am Love

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I was always confused about Christian ideology regarding loving God above everything else. It wasn’t until I became more connected to my spiritual path that I realized that that concept was lost in translation or misconstrued at some point. I remember the first time I reflected on this concept when I was twenty-eight years old.

It was during a low point in my life, and I had just begun a program to help me get back into a post-secondary institution. I had already completed a Bachelor of Arts degree from Dalhousie University but found my BA didn’t help me find employment. So, I began this program to assist women who were either unemployed, underemployed, or living on Income assistance. I had been struggling and decided to apply.

I had befriended a girl in this course who was a few years older than me and a former addict. She had gotten herself clean and attributed her successful sobriety to her newfound Christian faith. During one of the icebreakers of our introduction to the program, we were asked to list all the things we loved the most in life and what mattered in our private worlds. I remember listening as she spoke and noted her choice to list God above all things and clarified that God mattered before anything else.

She came from a very conservative perspective, and her views of God differed significantly from mine. She is a mother of two and someone who approaches life very differently than I do, and I remember being very confused by that idea. That concept never felt suitable for me, and it wasn’t until I developed more spiritually and became more aware of how interconnected everything is and how, ultimately, we are all essentially individual sparks from that same light. I realized it makes sense, but only when I realized that we are all an extension of God.

I believe we are all divine beings who are fragments of a source that none of us could fully fathom. In the years following my time in this program, I realized that she and I were both right, but I resonate with those words and that belief differently than I did back then.

I’ve read about the importance of “I Am” and how they can create a strong foundation for how we see ourselves and interact with the world around us. When people use affirmations like, “I am happy,” “I am healthy,” “I am beautiful,” or “I am content,” it carries a weight with it because whatever follows the words “I am” becomes a part of who we are. So, there is a resonance within us and our bodies and all the things we put into this world because we are creators, and we all shape our worlds and realities.

The words “I Am” have spiritual implications and deep religious connotations and even appear in the bible. Jesus speaks those words about him being an aspect of God. He is a direct source of the divine and uses those words to denote that connection. In John 14:12, Jesus speaks about having faith in God and performing miracles, “I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father,” which I find implies not only is he an extension of God and as such can do miraculous things, but he seems to suggest that connection is available to anyone. 

So, when we use the words “I Am” we are bridging our physical world with the spiritual world and must be mindful of using positive terminology to infuse positive energy into our lives. It’s not always easy to find positive things to say about ourselves; trust me, I know, but being mindful of it is essential. Those words invoke power, so choosing good words to describe ourselves is always important.

When you catch yourself saying things that you would find hurtful hearing from someone else, it’s good practice to take a moment and think of other adjectives or other things you like about yourself. This helps prevent negativity from being spoken into the world because the words “I am” help define what we are since whatever comes next is a part of who we are at our core. So, we must use kind words to describe ourselves because that essentially becomes what others see in us and how we see ourselves. It can impact what we can do physically because self-limiting beliefs can have real-life ramifications.

The choice to use loving words, loving thoughts, and loving emotions toward ourselves is how we find a deeper connection to that divine source. By loving ourselves unconditionally, through self-love specifically, we can reach higher levels of reference and a deeper understanding of that divine spark. When Jesus spoke about loving God it wasn’t about putting a spiritual being on a pedestal somewhere up in the sky; it was about knowing that we are part of that divine puzzle, we are all a piece of that same source. Instead of putting a “God like” figure or any spiritual teacher above us, the importance should be placed on loving ourselves first where we are currently and striving to incorporate the principles that Jesus spoke about into our lives. Through that choice to continually strive towards being kind to others and especially to ourselves, we can bridge here in the spirit world and become more enlightened individuals.

I believe that to love God fully is to love yourself first, and it is through self-love you can deepen your connection to a divine source of energy and inevitably transcend earthly limitations connected to areas that don’t serve the higher good. It’s often about baby steps, being gentle with yourself, and remembering that our loved ones on the other side, God, Jesus, our spirit guides, and all the benevolent beings assisting us on our journey love us unconditionally. It’s always a good practice to remember that we should do the same for ourselves.

Chapter Nineteen: Healing Wounds – “Half Adopted”

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I often conceal my weirdness, but any semblance of normalcy disappears when I listen to the internal dialogue inside my head. My inner monologue chatters incessantly most of the time, and it’s something that I just assumed everyone did. I realized recently that my childhood loneliness made me fast friends with my inner self. I don’t know how unusual this is. Still, I frequently speak to myself at length within my mind, often trying to figure out how to solve issues without openly discussing everything with others.

This approach is helpful, and I can speak about issues at length because that’s how I work through it. As someone who can’t afford therapy and often must figure things out independently, it has been my way of dealing with everything. As a child, I sometimes felt like I wasn’t allowed to express my feelings about issues, and I think it was a coping mechanism I learned very early on. I could remain entirely within my little world, and I developed daydreams and internal conversations with myself to survive.

My mom did her best and insulated us to the best of her ability. She raised my brother and me independently; he and I often marvel at how she did it. I have zero doubt being a parent is one of the most challenging jobs in the world, but I’m also positive that my mother endured immense trauma in her early years, some of which she had inherited from her parents, and I know life wasn’t easy for her. I can’t even begin to imagine how she dealt with her many life hardships and the experiences her mother and father went through in their own lives.

The world is becoming a gentler place. From a historical context, it’s hard to fathom how different we experience things now versus centuries ago, but we are progressing to a gentler way of being. There are exceptions to every rule, but even the simple fact that public executions are no longer something you take the wife and kids to or the fact that we don’t witness gladiators fighting to the death in colosseums anymore is an indication of that reality. There is much less brutality and much more self-reflection now than there has ever been.

Do I think my maternal grandfather, fresh out of serving in World War II, would have focused a lot of time and attention on being bullied, and what kind of ramifications hurt feelings had on those he interacted with? Hell no. I’m sure he sees things differently today and maybe sees value on the other side, but I also know he wasn’t afforded the time. The ability to navigate those emotions when he dealt with the trauma of watching his best friends die in a war and had to go on living after that and support a family of 5 children.

Wars continue to rage when so many of us wish they didn’t. I feel that, on average, people are afforded the ability to be gentler with one another now more than ever before, and use the examples of the rise of veganism, the recognition of the Black Lives Matter movement, Trans visibility, and the legalization of gay marriage to help make my case that we are heading in the right direction. At the very least, we are beginning to allow people to live their lives more openly without fear of repercussions.

I am so grateful that I live during a time when immense generational trauma and family karma seem to be more on the forefront and that we as a planet have become more self-aware of where our shortfalls stem from. Even though recognizing that healing needs to take place, taking steps toward emotional healing is often extremely difficult. There are so many systems in place and unspoken rules within family dynamics that make it difficult to transcend all the learned behaviours and coping mechanisms we have developed and internalized as we have made our way through life.

Some of my feelings about otherness stem from only interacting with my mom’s side of the family. My father couldn’t be a father and struggled with his demons. He just wasn’t there in the way either of us probably wanted. He wasn’t a paternal figure in my life, and I have immense empathy for what he’s been through. I’ve never considered him my “actual” father since I never felt I could rely on him.

I remember I travelled across the country to see my grandmother when she was close to the end of her life and began making her journey home. I remember sitting in her hospital room surrounded by her loved ones, and I recognized so much of myself in these people I didn’t know. It was so interesting because I always felt half adopted growing up, just because I didn’t see that aspect of who I was, and there was some solace in those moments. I have consistently recognized specific quirks, personality traits, and interests I didn’t realize were genetic. I felt privileged to see aspects of myself reflected in other people who didn’t know anything about me other than who my grandmother was. 

My father is Irish Catholic, and I feel like I inherited some of the traits associated with that culture without ever interacting with it. My father struggled through life, and I became keenly aware of nature versus nurture when I met his family members. I also wondered about what kind of inherited karma we gain through our genetics and how impactful DNA is on a subtle level.

My love of films and ability to thrive at trivia games has been inherited from that side of the family. I recognized some genetic predispositions, too, and wondered about the notion of “Catholic guilt.” When I was 20 years old, I visited a psychic and was told that I had inherited Catholic guilt even though I hadn’t been raised Catholic. I passed it off like it was silly to say until I interacted with these people who were effectively strangers. I was not raised with religion and spent little time in the Catholic Church. While spending time with these people who were genetically my relatives but knew nothing of my life, I realized they had similar ways of expressing themselves and had similar creative leanings. It just made me wonder how deeply connected we are on a genetic level.

Nobody is perfect in life—thank fuck! It would be super annoying if that were the case. Still, I think there’s something to be said about the idea of recognizing how issues have been inherited and how much things often get swept under the rug, or we feel the need to continue specific cycles or patterns because somewhere along the line, we were told it was better to continue doing what has always been done rather than charting a new course because it seems too difficult to change.

As I’ve grown older, I feel more at ease with who I am and see the value I offer. I realize I possess many inherited beliefs that I would like to question a bit more. In terms of being told what is true versus what feels right to me, my hope is that I continue to develop as a human that I continually strive to heal in every way I can.

I think the more we work through our traumas, shed light on the darkness and help others through their processes, the more we can free ourselves of those layers, the weight we’ve picked up along the way, and all those things we were told to carry that were not ours to carry in the first place.

So that we can fully embrace the “weird” and not worry so much about how it’s interpreted and how we are perceived because, ultimately, it’s so much more affirming to be who you are and do that rather than try to appease people that aren’t even worth it in the first place. Life is way too short to focus on trivialities like that, and I think a lot of it stems from just working through the things we inherited and sifting through what works for us and what doesn’t anymore.

Most of the things we’re told to continue doing are done in the guise of, “Well, that’s what works,” but there are a lot of institutions in this world, and many things don’t work that well. Sometimes, it’s good to have a fresh perspective on everything and question the nature of specific institutions. I think it’s essential for growth on an individual level and for society to continually challenge frameworks and adjust the lens through which we see our realities because that is where the magic happens and how progress and innovation are made. We don’t evolve as individuals without questioning our current existence and shared history, which is part of why knowing about our past in a social sense is essential, but also knowing where we came from helps us understand who we are and where we are going.

Chapter Eighteen: Pearls of Wisdom

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There is no such thing as a coincidence—that is a fallacy, and when you begin to see the intricate play of situations that make up your life, you will start to see more synchronicities. There will be times when you are in alignment, and you notice things taking place in your life that leave zero shred of doubt as to what direction you should follow and what choices you should make.

A few years ago, while waiting for a bus on my way to work, I was working as a temp in a car dealership, hating every moment, and I remember one day, I was oblivious to everything happening around me. I had my earbuds in and the hood of my winter jacket up, and I was trying to keep warm before I could get on my third bus that morning. Suddenly, I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder, and I looked up and saw a young, attractive man standing before me. I immediately took out my earbuds and looked up as he motioned towards the street we were on and asked me if any buses were expected to arrive at our stop.

I glanced to where he had pointed and realized the entire street was closed, and water was gushing everywhere. I started to panic because I knew I was still far from the dealership and had no idea how to get there on time. One might assume someone his age, who was younger than me and seemingly more put together, would have a cell phone. He immediately started asking me questions to which he already seemed to know the answer and guided me on which app to use and how to find the best route.

I luckily made it to work on time. Although I didn’t stay at that job very long, it was a stepping stone that saved my life figuratively. Without this perfect interaction, I wouldn’t have made it to work on time and likely would have quit shortly after, preventing me from getting to the next step in my journey. He needed to be there then, and I needed to listen to his advice.

I knew immediately in a spiritual sense what had happened. I had experienced moments like this and heard people talking about it in their own life. It might not have seemed as significant to others, but it was for me. It was that recognition of knowing there was more in my physical reality and this world than we can fully comprehend.

This notion of being in the right place at the right time is very much orchestrated on the other side, and a story from a family friend whose car broke down in the middle of nowhere often comes to mind. It had overheated, and she got out of her vehicle and tried to find out what was wrong. She began tinkering under her car’s hood when she heard an unfamiliar voice say to her, “I think your radiator needs water,” a few moments later, a man returned with a jug, which she poured into the radiator.

She started her car, put down the hood, and looked around to find herself alone on an isolated road. She knew something otherworldly had taken place but wasn’t sure what happened, but immediately went to see my mother, who could only tell her, “You’re driving around with holy water in your car.”

I’m sure there are moments in your own life when you tell other people and explain to them how miraculous it was that you survived a situation that seemed so daunting, or when you received the right words at the right moment, or you have heard about a friend who received some divine intervention that changed their life forever and could have even changed their views on spirituality.

The language that surrounds these scenarios is less important than the acknowledgement that they exist. I feel the importance lies in recognizing what took place was sacred. Perhaps beyond that not-too-distant veil that we may think is much further than it is, someone decided to step forward and assist in some manner to help you get to where you need to be.

These situations can also occur subtly more when we are guided through synchronicities where we hear the perfect song playing that reminds us of someone we love or multiple people tell us on the same day to apply for that job we’ve been considering. When we continually see spiritual signposts that gently nudge us to where we’re supposed to go for what seems far too long, we might feel more supported by spirit. It’s no less essential to receive those synchronistic moments in life. Although the big moments are great because they are good examples that allow us to feel heaven on earth for a moment, the reality is that even those seemingly less significant situations are just as critical.

The reality is nothing matters, and yet, at the same time, everything matters. In the same way, no life on earth is less important than another; the same is true for our choices and how interconnected everything is to the spirit world. There is no separation, and there is no death, and our lives, in retrospect, are very brief. What matters is being kind to ourselves and each other and remembering that we are just as crucial to that cosmic puzzle as the colleague who frustrates you the most, or your best friend who is doing way more exciting things in life than you are, or the homeless person trying to keep warm.

So, when you have a miraculous experience with a stranger who approaches you and tells you the absolute most perfect thing at that moment, trust that what you experienced was complete and divine. Feel the love that represents deep within your soul because that’s what it is. It’s their way of helping you and ensuring you don’t feel alone or guiding you in the right direction. So, if you ever receive wisdom from a kind stranger and are reluctant to heed the advice, remember those words stem from a place of unconditional love and that they want what is best for you. Treasure those interactions and remember how treasured you are.

Chapter Seventeen: Animal Teachers

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Animals have served as incredible friends and confidants—at least in my world because of their innate ability to come from an unconditional place. I feel more at home with a dog or cat than most people. I have learned how perceptive animals are to energy and even the words we use around them. I think we underestimate their level of comprehension and assume they don’t understand anything or fully gather what takes place in our homes. My cat Obi has taught me so much about communication and how in tune these animals are to our energy.

Obi was rehomed because of aggression, and I knew it would be a long process getting him to a point where he would feel safe and comfortable. He has come a long way and seems incredibly adept at comprehension. Not only does he pick up when people feel sick or unwell and devote more of his time and attention to those in need, but he also understands certain words very clearly, especially regarding food.

I had a loved one stay with me for an extended period, and they were extremely depressed and struggling each day. Obi would get up and lay next to them for hours each day, accepting copious amounts of love and rubs when he usually can barely stand more than a few minutes of cuddles at a time. Still, he knew that he was helping and that his presence was assisting this person in need in some way.

As human beings, we take solace in the idea that animals don’t feel as deeply as we do, and they don’t understand as much as we give them credit. How upsetting it would be to realize the depth of their feelings associated with our collective mistreatment of them: through the ongoing decimation of their habitats across the globe, their ill-treatment on TV and film sets, and most recently, industrialized factory farming and all the cruelty associated with that.

Part of our experience on earth and our interactions with the animal world is realizing that they are an integral part of everything. I’m sure part of why humanity struggles as much as it does is because we’ve lost sight of what really matters regarding how we treat each other and how we respect animals as much as the earth itself. This notion was highlighted during the pandemic when many people started gardening again and spending more time at home. This was not a universal phenomenon when you factor in poverty, but for those fortunate enough to have access to green spaces, I think a lot of healing took place for those people. I think people who had so much healing occurred during those times partly because of that connection to the earth.

As I have grown spiritually, my vibration has changed, and I have become more sensitive to everything, including the foods I consume, the music I listen to, the films and TV I watch, and even the shampoos and lotions I use. It sucks, but as I realized these things, I started having nightmares about animals being slaughtered. I started learning from the universe that I needed to incorporate a more vegan diet, even to the point where sometimes I would order items with cheese, only to discover that the employee working at a restaurant neglected to add it to my meal.

It’s a privilege to be in tune with something spiritually higher than ourselves, and it makes having slight alterations that much more tolerable because it represents the idea that someone like myself might feel things profoundly and experience higher degrees of sensitivity, which is excellent for compassion and empathy. Regardless, sometimes I want cheese on my burrito, and then I’m gently reminded by the universe that, “nahhhh… you don’t need it.”

The flip side of having a propensity for high sensitivity is learning to incorporate energetic solid boundaries, which I struggle with, unfortunately, and it’s been a learning curve that I haven’t completely mastered yet. I can quickly spiral while in that state if I don’t prioritize it because having a high vibration or aura too outstretched all the time isn’t sustainable. It may feel amazing sometimes but isn’t ideal for navigating the real world properly.

I will 1000% admit that there have been times that I have been illogical, and so caught up in my spiritual side that I forget to live in the here and now. It’s equally important to be grounded as it is to be connected to the source because without connecting to the physical world, living seems like a moot experience—isn’t it? Why else would we be here if we weren’t supposed to engage in this physical reality fully? As incredible as it is to think about other potential realities or realms and what lies on the other side, we’re just wasting time here without authentic engagement with life!

I think balance can be overrated because I have this perception in my mind that everyone else’s life is perfect. I am just perpetually living in a state of slight unease and disorganization. When I think no one has their shit together 100% of the time but is good at seeming like they do, at least that’s what I’ve come to learn. I think we all assume everyone else knows what they’re doing, and then we all are just floundering around, but I’m not talking about whether you forgot to buy milk or pay your bill on time; the most important thing I’ve learned about balance pertains to a mental health crisis versus a spiritual awakening.

Spiritual balance separates streetside preachers speaking about the end of days and those who can communicate with spirit or have had intense spiritual experiences and can still live in the real world even when they have many extraordinary circumstances peppering their everyday lives.

This is the example I will use to differentiate why a mentally ill person asks me why they might need medication versus someone else who hears voices in their head but makes a living communicating with those who are no longer physically here. It’s a fine line sometimes, and it can be straightforward to lose ourselves in spirituality. And being grounded and realizing the importance of living here can sometimes prevent many issues from becoming exacerbated.

Some of us, whose light might shine differently than others, sometimes stick out like a sore thumb and might provoke others by their mere presence alone. They have added barriers to deal with because they are so misunderstood and might feel heightened emotions around loneliness because they are so different and deeply felt. Their path in life is unique, and as a result, they feel more isolated because others find it harder to relate to them.

About ten years ago, I was driving close to my current home. I was at a busy intersection, and my glasses were broken so that I couldn’t see well. I glanced up at the left hydro pole, where I noticed a bird with red tail feathers being watched by a crow. This all occurred while I waited for the light to turn green, and suddenly, the crow started attacking this unusual-looking bird.

I could barely see, but I quickly realized that I was looking at an African Gray Parrot, and parrots are not native to Nova Scotia, Canada—contrary to popular belief! So, I immediately yelled, “Oh my God! That’s a parrot! That’s an African Gray, “we need to pull over the car.” It had flown into a nearby tree, and we coaxed it down by calling to it. Eventually, it flew down and landed on the arm of my friend.

We were freaking out trying to figure out what to do with this parrot, and we decided to take it to a nearby Animal Hospital. We brought the bird in, and the staff notified us that the bird was female and looked like she had been out a few days but otherwise was in good condition. I went home, and my friend told her brother what happened, who had seen a lost parrot poster on his walk home from school. She contacted the family, who broke down on the phone, having thought they had lost their bird forever, and we helped save a tiny life that day.

My “moral of the story moment” from that encounter was that the crows noticed that this African Gray seemed out of place, and they were quick to judge this bird and attack it. It’s like people whose inner light shines a little differently. Just in the same way that unique thinkers and quirky personalities annoy some people—African Grey stood out to the crows.

Maybe it serves as an excellent reminder to me that perhaps that’s why someone like myself got bullied so relentlessly growing up, and sometimes the odd ones get separated from the rest because something within us stands out to other people—even on an energetic level. The crows seemed to know immediately that this bird was different and felt threatened. Much like these “judgey” crows, I think we humans still have a lot to learn. It’s misguided of us to assume we know it all, and sometimes, our most outstanding teachers are the most helpless and require more gentleness to help teach us so much about our humanity.

Chapter Sixteen – Minimizing Our Spiritual Footprint

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I might not be considered the most logical person, especially in how I move through the world and make my decisions, but I trust what I know, and I know spirit. The first time this idea became a concrete reality was when I was nine years old, and my grade four teacher assigned me the yellow spotted salamander as my topic of study for a rudimentary science project. Even then, Ms. Nobel was extremely calm and way ahead of her time. I remember her collecting compost back in the mid-90s, and instilled the importance of recycling and being kind to the earth at an early age; I appreciated my time in her classroom.

I had never seen a salamander before I was given this project topic, but excitedly, I thought I would find one. I was always exploring the woods alone with my cat Sam. So, one afternoon, I went out into the woods and purposely looked for one. I went to my favourite area, closer to my neighbor’s house, and went to a clearing.

I had been out for a while looking but eventually gave up my search, and I had just passed by one of the ponds when I decided to turn back around and head home for the day. Only about 30 seconds had passed, but when I turned around and looked down, I noticed a yellow spotted salamander on a rock partially submerged. It looked as though it had been placed there for me. I was startled, and I remember staring at it because I was shocked and confused. How had it appeared so quickly—as if someone had left it there as a gift?

I rushed home and forced my mom to come back with me into the woods because I wasn’t sure if it was dead, and I didn’t want to move it alone, but I still brought it home regardless, even though it had died, and it decomposed in the bathroom for a few days before I gave it a proper burial in the garden underneath a plum tree.

It was one of those moments that always stuck out to me and still does. The concept, “ask so you shall receive,” hit home and was one of those things that I never really understood and maybe don’t fully understand even today. I knew something was at spiritually significant work, and it felt like pure magic in the most absolute sense. Many years later, I connected a lot to hawk medicine because I felt drawn to that animal’s wisdom, and I requested a feather from the universe from an animal itself.

Within days of my request, I found a hawk that had just been struck along the highway. I got out of the car to move it off the road, and I felt a lot of sadness when I found this beautiful bird lying on the road. I left the bird’s feathers intact and prayed for its journey home to the spirit world, but I just felt indirectly responsible for requesting a piece of an animal. I didn’t consider the ramifications of how that feather might come to me.

That was coupled by a wave of sadness regarding my humanness, and the implications of what being a human means for the animal world and every habitat around the globe. I felt this beautiful creature didn’t belong here—it should still be soaring majestically, living a full life. The whole situation felt like a lesson in being mindful of how we speak our requests to the universe and how I should have worded my request differently. In the same way that I had not been clear in my wish for a salamander, the same was true for my request for a feather. As a child, I didn’t specify that I wanted to find one alive and well.

When I found the dead hawk along the side of a highway, I became more aware of how that process works, and I realized that I should always include in my prayers that no harm should come to others as a result of my request, whether it be an animal or a human. Then, when we speak our prayers to that universal source and put our requests to the universe, the best practice always involves best-case scenarios and envisioning the highest good for all.

For centuries, our ancestors and humans here before us relied heavily on animals for nourishment. Animals sometimes sacrifice themselves to help feed humans in our physical reality. I think they knew that we needed them in that way, and they would offer themselves to keep us alive because they knew it was for the greater good.

Fortunately, I choose to be a vegetarian in this lifetime, and I try as often as possible to refrain from consuming anything from an animal. I’m fortunate enough that I don’t require an animal to sacrifice its life to sustain mine, and had I been thinking about my request for a feather and if I had taken a step back and considered how that might impact the animal itself, I never would have requested it in the first place.

My goal is to bring forth as much positivity as I can. I want to create as many harm-reduction behaviors as possible and have the highest yield of good energy that I can put into the world. I like to use the example of working within the framework of a scientific model. If we think about ecological footprints and how we impact the world around us, we can see that concept as a continuum. Let’s look at ourselves objectively and from a spiritual perspective. We can transfer that concept to our physical reality and our impact on our environment and the planet. But also look at the emotional footprints we leave behind and those ramifications through our thoughts, words, and actions.

In general terms, we all underestimate the power of our thoughts. Those thoughts reverberate outside of ourselves, creating the dialogue we hear inside our minds that continually shapes our realities and impacts how others treat us. Specifically, this can stem from negative self-talk patterns that shape how we see ourselves, which inevitably affects how others treat us. Often, we learn how we’re supposed to view ourselves by how others treat us, but the goal is to negate or unlearn those patterns to break free of cycles that create harm within ourselves.

It can be a complicated process when we have heard descriptions spoken through the voices of others that do not reflect how we truly feel about ourselves, but that’s part of why we are here. Growth doesn’t happen without pressure from external forces; you can’t advance through the school of life without being challenged along the way. So, once we do this and finally see ourselves as the divine beings that we are, we can help shed ourselves of the weight of inherited trauma untruths about who we are and how we should live, and ultimately help others through dark times. When we can fully live authentically and love ourselves unconditionally, we create a gentleness within ourselves and how we interact with the rest of the world.

It works both ways because even our thoughts about others can impact those around us. There have been times in my life when I’ve interacted with others who didn’t match my vibe, and I’m sure my body language revealed much more than my words did in those instances. Because vibes don’t lie, and even those tiny interactions have meaning and significance and can influence everything around us.

I’m not saying you need to be best friends with everyone because that’s not how it works. Still, in moments of frustration or disagreement, it’s helpful to stop for a moment, take a few soothing breaths, allow your mind to calm itself, and remove that chatter that can distract and make us far more self-involved than we sometimes wish to be.

Ultimately, suppose you’re constantly thinking ill will of others or saying awful things inside your mind; even if you’re talking about yourself, it will carry over to other aspects of your life— regardless of whether you think it does. It will always come back to your relationship with yourself; everything else is just a reflection of your inner world. So, my advice is to be mindful of how you speak to yourself and examine the sources from which your definition of who you are was defined. That way, we can be gentler with ourselves and, by proxy, the world around us.

Chapter Fifteen: Storing Tears – Revisiting Ourselves as Children

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I’ve always had issues with crying, even as a child, not because I didn’t feel my emotions profoundly but because I often felt I wasn’t allowed to express myself in that way. As a result, I developed a knack for saving tears until I thought I could cry without feeling insecure about it.

Somewhere along the way I learned that it was easier to store everything inside and bottle it up—until I felt safe enough to release it. This manifested in a way that I didn’t fully feel emotions for my life for a very long time. I could recount the most tragic events from my past with a sense of detachment, as if it took place in someone else’s life, like I was reading a stranger’s story, but I might become overwhelmed by a random inconvenience.

Until recently, I would cry maybe once or twice a year about something in my life, and it was usually when I was on the phone with customer service or some other equally inappropriate time. It would feel like a faucet being opened, incredibly overwhelming and uncontrollable like my body would store these emotions and lock them away but would occasionally relieve the pressure in awkward ways.

I realized quickly as a child that crying during a movie was more acceptable, and I didn’t need to worry about being “teased” for expressing myself freely within a darkened room. My brother worked at the town theater and could get me in for free, and when the film The Sixth Sense came out, my mother and I went to see it a few times. During one of the scenes in the movie, Cole tells his mother about his grandmother, who was deceased, and he can relay information to her about her past. It was a very emotional scene that I relied on during that time to help rid myself of the tears I had been carrying. 

When the film was released, my neighbor had killed one of my pets. It was clear that he had done this, and it was something that my mom made apparent that she was aware of. We lived when things like this were more acceptable than they are today. Social politics deemed his behavior more acceptable in an area of the world than it should have been.

I feel he was unaccustomed to a person rejecting his claims of innocence, and he called her a few times to deny any wrongdoing. He was a fisherman who beat his wife and his children and ended up admitting himself to the hospital for psychiatric care shortly after this took place. I’ve since made peace with having to experience that, and I am grateful that I didn’t need to spend any more time with him than I already did.

I became more sensitive to my well-being and childhood wounds through my spiritual development. As a result, I went from crying twice a year in the most awkward ways to fully feeling my emotions and being completely caught off guard by them. It felt like I had been wearing protective clothing my entire life without feeling any sensation—to suddenly being over-stimulated by every emotional upset while simultaneously reliving the past and sifting through my memories, trying to recount and make sense of myself.

It was a lot. It was a lot for me to adjust to, and it felt akin to feeling absolutely nothing to everything all at once. For a time, it became easier to hide from the rest of the world, and I lingered in that energy a little longer than I would have liked to, but it felt necessary at the time to be able to get through to the next phase of my life. It felt like the butterfly was wrapped in a cocoon, where transformation occurs at the height of the pain.

Around this time, I saw a video on TikTok. It was about healing childhood wounds by spending time with your younger self. The woman in the video suggested that going out and doing an activity she loved as a child and spiritually, including that version of herself, brought her immense healing.

It’s funny how things like listening to music loudly, privacy, or even being alone amongst the trees signify wealth. We often don’t consider how those opportunities aren’t always available to everyone. But it is very much the case, and being alone in the woods was my safe place as a child, and I tried my best to spend some time in a park within walking distance of my home.

I started to think of my younger self as I sat on a park bench and what kinds of signifiers would have mattered to her. I imagined her sitting next to me and telling her about my life, and I realized she would have loved our time together. She would have found me kind and funny and would have been excited to hear about my big orange cat. She would have been so happy to know that I still write and get excited about life the way she did.

I realized how unimportant those perceived deficits would have mattered to her, and ultimately, they don’t matter to me. Sometimes, it’s easy to see yourself as a failure, no matter who you are or how others might see you. And I was relieved thinking about myself at that age being OK with who I grew up to be, and that gave me so much solace and made me way happier than I expected. It was an exercise that I found so much more emotional, but it felt good to see myself with less judgmental eyes, and I highly recommend it to anyone feeling less than, unaccomplished, or struggling. Just as a practice in reconnecting to your sacred self and finding a more compassionate view of who you truly are.

If you find that it brings up heavy emotions, try to work with that energy and speak to that version of yourself and let them know they are safe now and that you thank them for the lessons they have taught you and the emotions that have resurfaced. You can thank them and let them know it’s no longer necessary to feel those heavy emotions and that sadness, and you can pray that Source takes away your burdens and rids you of what you’ve been carrying.

I can only speak to my personal experience, but I did find this exercise extremely helpful in healing. I am unsure what your experience will be. Still, if you put out the intention that this exercise is beneficial and gentle in its approach, then I feel there is so much opportunity available to you and how you can change how you think and experience life.

Chapter Fourteen: Perpetually Seeking Friends

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I often use the word “weird” as a term of endearment, which can be offensive to others when I wholeheartedly see it as a positive trait to possess. I’ve always found friendship elusive and struggle to maintain relationships with people. I’ve always felt somewhat isolated and often spent time alone rather than conversing with others because I usually feel strange and misunderstood.

I will often not use the term friend when describing people out of concern or worry that they don’t see me in the same light. I don’t put myself out there very often because I’ve had situations where I’ve even asked to take pictures with people at parties, and they refused, so I don’t ask to take pictures anymore.

I consider myself to be charismatic and friendly, but friendship is a concept that I struggle with. I do have friends. I’m not saying that I don’t, but I feel like even within those entanglements, I often feel lost and struggle with why everyone else seems to be doing it the right way, and I’m just not. I feel this most acutely in rooms with women who are very heteronormative; I feel like I’m this ogre lurching in the back who wants to talk about film theory and what their favorite albums are, and what aspects of that music are so important to them and find I just don’t know how to talk to people sometimes.

I think about this a lot, and the only way I’ve reconciled this is that some people are just meant to be “losers.” We are told to stay on the periphery of what society deems as usual and become objective observers who can create pieces of art or beautiful music or write books that have an impact and can be relatable to others like us and appreciated because we see things differently and experience the world with a different set of eyes.

This helps me when I feel entirely less than and feel so vastly different from others that I start to conjure up images of Stephen King and his vast number of works. He’s created all these pieces that people appreciate and love, but maybe he’s not the most popular guy at the party. Although I could be completely wrong, and he might be a fucking blast to be around, this image of him eating pretzels alone in a crowded room is akin to a talisman I carry in my mind when I struggle socially.

It legitimately gives me peace and solace to think about maybe that’s just how it’s meant to be for me to be the person I am and to be able to see things the way I do and remind others that being visionary or creative often equates to being misunderstood, and uncool because to make changes, and to be innovative you have to take issue with the status quo and view reality as fucking bizarre to show people that maybe there are better ways of doing things sometimes.

Rather than be a person who exists in this world and be part of the world, it’s a necessity to have others who are not invited to those parties. Those with doors closed in their faces are mistreated and misunderstood because they often write the best books, create the most exciting movies, and compose wonderful music. Their words have meaning and are eventually valued by society despite those moments where they are deemed as less than or feel they are perceived as such. We survive the numerous catastrophes that make up our complicated lives through perseverance and sheer will sometimes. Still, I find the most exciting people are the ones who had their characters built up by trauma and could make a life for themselves despite weighing the world on their shoulders.

I see no point in spending time in rooms with people who don’t want me there. I don’t feel the need to prove myself or constantly try to defend who I am to those who seem hellbent on misunderstanding me. If you don’t want to be my friend, then that’s okay. I will be okay.

I don’t want to be friends with people who don’t want my friendship or pine for the love of those who will never love me back. Because at the end of the day, I’m an awesome person who’s fun to be around, and even though I may be weird, I can take solace in the fact that maybe I can envision myself standing next to Stephen King at a party or standing off to the side with my bowl of pretzels somewhere, and perhaps I can be a Talisman for someone else someday. I know the self-proclaimed “odd ones” can do good things worth remembering, and it isn’t necessary to be understood by everyone to create works that have an impact.

Chapter Thirteen: Finding My Voice Through the Words of Another

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I always wanted to be a writer, and even as a child, I often spent inordinate amounts of time creating small books out of paper and signing my name on the covers. My grade six teacher used essay writing as a punishment but allowed students to choose any topic, so I began talking back in class and planning what I would write about. He quickly realized what I was doing and changed my reprimand so I wouldn’t purposely get into trouble anymore.

I was a voracious reader and grew up with one TV channel, but two channels on a good day, and spent as much time as I could outside alone. So, I could pretend the forest was my home; that was my reality, and everything else wasn’t as real. This continued until university when reading became required and felt more like drudgery than an escape. So, I began to forget that part of myself. I still loved to write essays, though, as much as I also equally hated doing it. Especially when the topic felt close to my heart and I had the freedom to delve into it all.

I graduated with an undergrad in Gender and Women’s Studies with a Minor in Film Studies. I spent too much time taking electives and delaying graduation because that meant real life would soon follow. My choice of major was born out of a need to understand myself more, with much attention being spent on philosophical topics regarding gender performance and sexuality. My minor helped me develop an eye for creative expression, and often, there were parallel themes from both programs that intrigued me.

Concepts put forth by Simone de Beauvoir, Laura Mulvey, Michel Foucault, Naomi Wolf and Judith Butler, to name a few, began to infiltrate my brain and forced me to see the world differently. It became frustrating and difficult to care so much and no longer ignore societal issues. Sometimes, I would lament to professors about philosophers writing from a privileged and highly educated standpoint and how they would use language that felt elitist and exclusionary. I remember one professor asked to speak with me after I wrote a strong critique of a required text.

I had become frustrated analyzing perspectives on poverty through the voice of an intellectual whose writing felt inaccessible to the group they felt compelled to write about, and my words struck a nerve with my professor, who felt the need to defend the course content. I remember feeling annoyed in those moments thinking about a person who had likely never experienced financial hardship and who had more opportunities growing up and throughout their academic career. Still, here they were, supposedly teaching me the importance of factoring in poverty regarding intersectional discrimination as if it were a theory based on a potential reality rather than my lived experience.

I often wrote well enough but felt inadequate scholastically. I lost marks for not participating in the class discussions. I always believed my opinion was less valid and polished than the rest of my classmates. Interestingly, our warped perception of ourselves is ultimately the most significant deciding factor on what we get from our experiences.

So, it came as a surprise when I received a message one day from a mentor interested in working with me to be a ghostwriter for an upcoming book he was working on. I knew he was working on a new project, and I jokingly messaged him to see if he was looking to hire someone, but had I known the scope and gravity of everything, I never would have offered.

It wasn’t because I didn’t learn or gain something through the process, but because I wouldn’t have believed I was good enough to accomplish something of that magnitude. I know he believed in me and saw what I could do, but I couldn’t see it in myself.

I learned so much about myself through the process, but not what I expected to learn. I immediately had to check in with myself and mull over the decision to fully be okay with not having my name attached to something I poured my heart and soul into, and I realized early in the process that I would be OK with that. Not that I had many expectations on what the opportunity would provide me in the immediate future because I’m smart enough to realize the reality of it all. Still, the finality of it coincided with health issues and the prognosis of impending baldness, unemployment, and what felt like a sudden loss of identity. As a writer, I expected to love what I did but did not expect the grief I experienced when the project was over.

I was surrounded by people who were aware of it all, but I felt embarrassed about the perceived absences in my life at that time. I struggled to look at myself in the mirror in the following weeks without weeping the rest of the day. I was dealing with the idea of going to a job interview when all I wanted to do was shave my head, and how that might look to prospective employers, and applying for job after job without ever hearing back. So, it was an interesting dichotomy of perception vs. reality. I was so far into debt but couldn’t apply for EI or Income Assistance.

It was a challenging time, and although I’ve always felt alone in this life, that was the first time I have ever felt that lonely, and it took a while to crawl out of my self-imposed exile. But Spirit was always there with me. I knew and felt it, which is likely the only reason I made it. 

Writing in someone else’s voice gave me the gift of objectivity for my abilities. I consider myself to be a skilled writer. Still, I had so many self-limiting beliefs surrounding my potential, but reading back the words I wrote for someone else distanced me enough from it to see what value I brought to the table and mirrored my worth back to me.

Even in the following weeks that were excruciating on many levels, it was a gift—I couldn’t see it then. I was provided time to work on myself further and to write in between the moments of intense sadness. I think had it not been for that period, which was just growing pains leading me to the next phase of my development, I would have dropped the title of writer from my identity and perhaps never would have reclaimed it again.