Silent Night has always been one of my favourite songs. Partly because I love how we sing it at the candlelight service on Christmas Eve, but mostly because of Mrs. Taylor who used to look after me when I was a baby. I remember her singing both Silent Night and Jesus Loves Me over and over when I was a little one. I remember her giving me a sugar cube when I got bucked off my first horse when I was around 3 (it was a toy horse on springs that ran off on me and bucked me onto the cement floor of our unfinished basement). Mom used to complain that all Mrs Taylor would do was come over and hold the baby, leaving her to do everything else. But I always loved that lady who loved holding the baby (me).
Sinéad O’Connor has long been someone I’ve admired. Her voice is angelic, I remember as a teenager the first time I heard her sing I had body shivers. I don’t want to talk too much about her here (although I have so much to say about her), but I do want to say this. She was right. About everything. People thought she was crazy, but she stood in her truth.
I came across Sinéad’s version of Silent Night the other day and I can’t listen to it enough. Her voice, that song, it combines into something that brings me closer to God. How have I never heard her version before? Sleep in Heavenly Peace Sinéad.
I started this blog 8.5 years ago (ish) on my 44th birthday as a way of tracking my search for happiness. I was so lost then, living in what was not only an unhappy marriage but a dangerous one as well. I was desperately seeking comfort, safety…. Happiness I suppose was the word I chose for what I was seeking. Freedom would have been a better word. Inner Freedom would have been a better phrase. But I only knew what I knew at the time, so I was seeking happiness.
I started out with looking for one happiness moment a day. Just one. Sometimes it was a huge stretch for me to find one moment where I could even consider there to be some joy. But I did it, and slowly my world brightened a bit. And as it is with healing it darkened, then brightened, then had a hail storm, a hurricane, and a Landslide (Thank you Stevie Nicks). But it’s also had sunshine days, rainbows, and literal puppies and kittens (thank you God for animals).
I have looked extensively outside for happiness. Then I learned happiness is an inside job. So then I looked extensively inside for happiness. Spoiler alert – if you haven’t done your work it’s almost impossible to find. Back outside for proof of inner happiness. Ugh that does not work. I studied my family, learned so much about my history, studied psychology, learned so much about myself and my family. Cried. Broke down. Picked myself up. Wrote. Deleted what I wrote. On and on.
I was going to end this blog. I’ve debated it for several months, but I can’t bring myself to do that. It’s like a little baby I’ve nurtured, neglected, and abused (in the sense that I’ve used it for things other than the original intended purpose). I didn’t want to also abandon it. All these years of sorting myself out.
I’ve discovered the path to the happiness I have been seeking. I think part of the reason it took me so long to find was I was seeking “happiness” when really I was seeking “inner freedom” as I mentioned. Happiness sounded like something really simple that could be found or created. Inner Freedom has turned out to be a real bitch to explore in the sense that it has required me to work through all of my shit. Childhood trauma, adolescent trauma, shitty fucking abusive marriage, addiction, raising children in that shitty fucking abusive marriage and how that became their childhood trauma, living in this overwhelming hoard, dealing with all of my shifty emotions. Working through all of it and dealing with the consequences no matter how uncomfortable or painful or undesirable they are – that’s the path. Just keep swimming. Just keep working at it. Just keep holding onto your truth, to who you are, the whole ugly beautiful embarrassing lovable mess. And stop listening to the opinions of people who don’t give a shit about you but to whom you only represent an inconvenience to their comfort.
Spoiler alert: Mom went to Stanford and had the time of her life. Apparently it only cost 7 cents to air mail this gem from San Diego to the ranch in 1959.
University of Sam Diego College for Women
4/28/59
Dear Mom, Dad and Marsh;
First: Official recognition of all your letters, and I’m glad we’re in the social register even though I think it’s a terribly snobby idea.
I usually type off the letters just before class or something like that and don’t bother to look at your letter as I do it but I think I’ve received all of them.
I got a letter from occidental last Saturday and they said they thought there was too many stairs for me there. That leaves just Redlands and Stanford. I hate to put in that $50 to Redlands until I hear something definite from Stanford as I don’t think I would get it back if I changed my mind about going. There really isn’t much chance of my getting into Stanford but if I was accepted there that would be the place I’d go. I should hear from them in the next week or so. It sounds as though I am already on the waiting list at Redlands so it wouldn’t make that much difference to wait a bit.
I finally got my English term paper done over the weekend. It was 24 typewritten pages. My other one is due on Friday and I haven’t even got going on it yet. I’ll be glad when all this is over.
One of the seniors might sell me her typewriter. She hardly ever types and it is in very good condition. She hasn’t decided how much to charge yet but if it isn’t too much, I think I’ll buy it. this one never was too good and it is getting worse. The keys keep sticking and they are too close. (As a reader I can vouch for this- there are some weird things going on with her old typewriter)
If I get accepted at Stanford, I think I’ll home by S.F. And stop to look over the campus. If I don’t, I’ll enquire about that next route. It sounds as if it might be cheaper.
I guess that’s all the news for now.
Write often
Love Margi
PS They asked me to fill out my schedule here for next year so I did.
I find it hilarious to read Grandma’s description of her experience at the Glen Miller concert considering one of my favourite stories to tell is how I was constantly (or so it seemed) forced to sit with Grandma and watch the Lawrence Welk show as a child. What the blaring horns were to her the accordions were to me haha. Fortunately I have only made my children listen to 80s music so I’ve prevented them from the same sort of emotional scarring.
RR2 Calgary, Alberta
March 20th 1954
Dear Margie
I hoe I don’t leave any cold-germs in this letter, I’ve had a horrid cold these last few days. Bet you enjoyed Mrs Barkley’s gift and the flowers Clarence sent. I’ll try and thank them soon. Dad has been curling every night and going to town every day and I’ve been trying to keep up with him. Guess I should’ve but the house is so empty and lonely now I hate to stay home. We all miss you so terribly, Sheila and Marshall feel as Dad and I do, you can see it when they come home. It will be a happy day when you are all home together again.
I am going in for Sheila now, she gets tonight and tomorrow off. Uncle Frank called in for tea this morning, he wanted to see Dad’s Bulls. I didn’t get the floor done until just now, I sure find it hard to keep up with the work and to gab too. Mrs Dunne surely is lonely. She was so kind the other day, wish we could do something for her.
I hope they let us see you tomorrow, I’ll ask today. Get one of the nurses to phone if you want anything. I bought a white midday that was on sale at the Bay and I’ll send in this old red skirt of Sheila’s if you think you’d like it. I’ll buy some Dixie cups today and some milkshakes tomorrow if we get in in decent time. I went to see Glen MIller’s show yesterday and only stayed a few minutes, it was awful – such a relief to get outside and away from all the blaring horns and toothie idiots acting. Guess I’m just queer eh?
Well I must hurry and get ready for town. Dad has gone to Grand Valley and I don’t know where Marshall is but I wish he was cleaning the chick’s house.
My it will be good to see you again, it’s terrible when you can’t even write to us. Hope those measles are run out by now. Why does the 2nd floor always be the one to be quarantined so much?
We got your report card last night and it was very, very good. Congratulations. I am going to keep it and let Sheila see it before I take it back. I think Dad and I swill be going in on Tuesday to try and get a man.
Hope you are well and happy dear and improving every day in your exercises.
I was sitting in Tulip Room 2 with my girl waiting for a doctor appointment. I had left my phone in the car and was just sitting there when her phone buzzed. She looked down and casually said “the Queen is dead” and I promptly burst into tears.
A few minutes later we could hear two women talking about the Queen’s passing. We couldn’t make it all out but they were clearly upset and sharing some of their memories of her. When my doctor came into the room it was the first thing we spoke about and it turned out that it had been her processing the death.
Those of you who know me may remember that I fell madly in love with Lady Diana before she married Charles and my love and respect for the People’s Princess carries on today. I’ve also had a lot of respect and admiration for Queen Elizabeth. No matter the situation, she has always conducted herself like royalty, I’ve never heard anything bad said from her or about her (not saying there isn’t anything – but really if there is it must be fairly uncommon – her children are another matter).
Lately I’ve said that the only thing that would be worse than the Queen dying is him becoming king, and with that her becoming queen consort. Bleh. Mostly it’s just that I don’t like how they were dirty with Diana.
And it was pretty much the same thing my doctor said – she just said it with more kindness than I just did. Really upset about the Queen, but even more upset that she was going to now be called queen. Then we had a long and lovely talk about how much we both loved Princess Diana. Finally my girl understood what I was saying when I said that there were so many of us in my generation who loved the People’s Princess.
I’ve loved the Queen too – for all of my life. And I sure will miss her. I will miss her class and grace. I will miss the way she kind of reminded me of my Auntie Mary who is also gone, and who also made it to a lovely old age (95). I am grateful though that I was given the opportunity to process the information of her passing with an adult whom I trust and admire and respect. It was very meaningful to be able to share our memories of both the Queen and Princess Diana with each other.
This is first and foremost a happiness blog. 8.5 years ago in one of my darkest times I started looking for moments of happiness in my world. Sometimes it was really hard for me to find even one thing that made me happy in a day – often it was seeing Henry the Heron on my walks – but I made a point of continuing to seek a moment that brought me joy. Eventually my life started getting better and better. Then it got worse. Then it got better again. And so it goes with life. Up and down and sideways. But always back to happiness. My understanding of happiness has deepened and changed over the years, but at the end of the day – those things that bring a legitimate smile to my face are still moments of happiness.
Enter TikTok
Yes, I know- I’m too old for TikTok. My kids banned me from it for ages, just like they did with Snapchat. But at some point this summer TikTok found me and we have been friend ever since.
Good thing or else I wouldn’t know about 🎵corn🎵.
Even better (in my opinion) is Thumpasaurus and their song Struttin. Not only is their own video hilarious, but tons of other people are also posting their Struttin’ videos. And now every single morning the first thing I do when I get up is sit and watch a couple of Struttin’ videos and laugh and smile and then I’m ready for the day. Ok, sometimes I also watch some Corn videos, and that guy Max who spent all his money at Disney (gosh he’s funny).
Today I was able to make my own public happiness moment as Bear the Dog (who is very shy and generally stays off social media) gave me the perfect Struttin’ video. And so I have officially joined the world of TikTok as more than an observer – I am now a participant. Or I should say, Bear is.
Well the good news is I’m feeling much better than I have been – both during my horrid shake drinking episode and the weeks that preceded that. Unfortunately I’m still feeling pretty crappy – but I’ll take it compared to where I’ve been
I saw my naturopath the other day to assess were we are at and figure out what to do moving ahead. His concern is that I seem to still have a lot of inflammation. I agree- I can feel it throughout my body. And I’m so, so, so tired from all of this.
The inflammation part I am kind of curious about. I think I’ve had inflammation in my body for years- decades. And on a side note, I think I’ve had some pretty intense food intolerances that have periodically created inflammation as well as other things since I was a little kid. But I’ve had a few weird inflammation flare-ups in the last 20 years or so. After I had the boy my tailbone became so sore I couldn’t sit for 2.5 years. It was awful – I sought help everywhere you could think of and had some pretty amazing professionals on my side. But I couldn’t seem to get the pain to go away, until finally it did and I immediately got pregnant with the girl (no tailbone pain with her fortunately). Years later I had plantar fasciitis for almost 2 years – that was awful as I could barely walk. I worked for a long time with my chiropractor and eventually it went away too. Not too long after that, I developed a frozen shoulder and could barely move that arm for almost a year. But then I left my marriage and so many of those issues went away. I figured it was extreme stress that brought on many of my physical issues.
I still think a lot of this is brought on by stress. Life (thank Goodness) has been a lot more quiet the last couple of years, but I’m still processing and recovering from the shitstorm that we walked through and apparently that is also what my body is doing. I’m learning how to have a better relationship with myself, learning kindness, learning to rest (as opposed to sitting and stressing and calling that rest), and deepening my relationship with the Divine.
Whatever this is that I’m going through I feel like I’ll be a happier and much more complete human when I reach the other side- but damn this has been a long journey. I’m really grateful for all the people I’ve got in my life who share their love and support. I haven’t talked recently about my “tribe”, but I continue to feel very blessed and thankful for the people who God has put in my life.
I have the best naturopath. I had an appointment on Wednesday to go in and discuss the sibo flare up that I have been struggling with. It had been a good 10 days of pretty intense pain and feeling generally unwell, and while I had been able to go through the notes of past sessions and find a few herbs to help relieve symptoms somewhat I was still in dire need of help.
So when I got the call that my naturopath was sick and couldn’t see me that day I almost cried. I actually did start crying when they said the next available appointment was in 2 weeks. But instead of shutting down, which was my normal behaviour in the past, I told the receptionist exactly what was going on and asked if there was any way she could ask my Dr if he had any advice.
After the call I had a little pity party. Actually, it was like I split into two people – PityPartyMelissa and NewAndImprovedMelissa. PPM was all “see, this is why we never count on anyone for anything, everyone ends up abandoning us, you can never depend on anyone ever”. And NAIM was like “dude! The man is sick. You haven’t been abandoned, you know he will help you out. Something will come through and you will get direction about how to help make things better. Seriously, breathe and chill a bit”.
After about a half hour the phone rang and it was my naturopath, sick as heck, but who gave me thirty minutes of his time to listen and give me some advice about how to feel better. I am so grateful for the amazing people I have in my life who are helping me heal.
We decided that on top of the herbs I was taking he was going to put me back on the tincture of death, ADP (because it works better than the regular oregano oil pills I was taking), and….. start me on the ElementALL Biological Diet by Bioclinic. The idea with the elemental diet is that it’s pre-digested food and gives the digestive system a break as well as not containing anything that would feed the sibo bacteria.
It’s probably a good thing I was feeling so crappy because let me tell you, these shakes are not for the faint of heart. I got the chocolate flavour (and I use the term chocolate – and flavour – loosely) because my Dr said that the other flavour had a strong after taste of vomit. Yum. The smell of the shake just about dropped me to the ground. I have discovered it tastes much better if you can manage not to breathe while drinking. To me the after taste is kind of what horse sweat smells like but like if a horse had been swimming in a stagnant swamp before sweating. So it’s delicious!!
I am now a day and a half – or 5 meals – into my shakes. I cry a little every time it’s “meal” time, but I’ve been sticking to it and not having anything else. It’s easier because literally everything I was eating was making me so sick. Here’s what I’ve found: my headache is almost completely gone, my joint aches have significantly decreased, my stomach is still pretty angry but it has settled down a lot – and I’m apparently in die off mode now which means I’m staying close to the bathroom. But I’m feeling so much better. And best of all – after spending days and weeks not sleeping and feeling so anxious because of being tired and feeling unwell – for the last two nights since starting the shakes I have slept right through the night (which never happens) and my anxiety has dropped from a 7 to a 3. Which makes the fact that I am almost constantly fantasizing about eating piles of mashed potatoes easier to handle. I am feeling more connected to myself again, present in my body, and I am grateful for the fact that I have the resources available to me to be able to seek the help that I need.
Things are not going well in SIBO land for me right now. It’s been at least a couple of weeks of pretty extreme discomfort (achy joints, headache, brain fog, anxiety, not sleeping etc) and I’ve finally decided that perhaps we never got rid of the sibo and with me introducing new foods it’s flared up again.
Now, by new foods I don’t mean things like chocolate cake (sob), or even things like potatoes or grains. It was things like Swiss chard, eggplant, asparagus, and olive oil – all things cleared with or suggested by my naturopath. I kind of blame the olive oil even though it’s supposed to be good for sibo but at this point I have nothing besides a hunch. I was doing well when I was using avocado oil, but when I ran out a month ago I switched to olive oil and it’s been a steady decline since. But there could be other reasons.
Of course it’s not just a weekend but a long weekend so I have to wait for my appointment with my naturopath until Wednesday. But yesterday I kind of snapped and decided to help myself because the pressure building inside me was becoming too much to take. By pressure I mean that it feels like I’m being wired with very uncomfortable electricity that just vibrates through my body giving me a headache and feeling of pressure that makes me feel like I’ll explode. And I’m sharing this in case there are other people out there suffering who have no idea what is going on or feel like they’re alone. Although I would never wish this on anyone, so I kind of hope I’m all alone with it.
I went to our local drug store – Two Pharmacy in Cochrane- and picked up some liver support, berberine, and oil of oregano, all of which I had been on before during the kill off phase. I bought a different oregano oil though and I think I’ll wait on that until I see my dr. So far there’s a lot less pressure but I still feel like crap. I’ve cut out everything besides hamburger meat, because I know meat doesn’t feed the sibo. And while i’m grateful for the cows that are healing me, damn I miss vegetables. But I have a lot of gratitude for those cows, they are healing my insides not to mention that my house and my life here was literally built because of cows, and I am eternally thankful for what they are doing for me. The fact that their lives were given to improve my health is not forgotten and I am constantly in a state of gratitude for that.
So I go Wednesday and find out whether or not becoming my own doctor over the weekend was a good idea. I don’t know what else to do- it’s not like you can go into urgent care and say that you feel like you’re dying because of sibo because it doesn’t show up on regular tests. But damn, it does kind of feel like you’re dying. And that’s not me being dramatic, it’s bloody awful. I can’t believe I ever used to just cram food in my mouth and not worry that it was going to debilitate me.
But this will eventually be resolved and I’ll feel like I’m back on track with my healing journey. Actually even though I feel like crap I still know I’m on my healing journey. I’ve come so far, and so much of this is just using intuition and stepping back and allowing God to be present (that and a lot of crying and trying to bargain with God for my health – but those aren’t probably as helpful as the first two).
I love this legend. This was the reason why I started bringing in the flower books to the hospital when Dad was so sick. I was trying to remember the story but was falling (very) short. I felt so badly for dad who had gone to so much work to put together all of these treasures so that we could remember what he taught us forever. So now this story to me is more than just a beautiful legend, but a treasured memory of time with my dad.
Blackfoot legend retold by Annora Brown, photos by John Ramsay.
This is the painting dad is talking about. It hangs on the wall in the kitchen behind where I’m sitting and I enjoy looking at it every day. To me it captures exactly what an Alberta spring looks like. It has hung here for as long as I can remember, and while Cherie has a copy this original is also hers and one day will hang on the wall at her place.
The Sattvic Life 