There Is Never Enough Time

I heard this song and I realized that a big part of my life was lost to my bulimia, and to my self-centeredness and selfishness.  I didn’t realize I was any of those, buried in my addiction.  At the same time, looking back, I realized how lost I was through those years.  I never really knew who I was once my bulimia started.  I remember my mother telling me that I was not the Laurie she used to know.  She was indeed right.  I was not altogether gone, but a big part of that younger Laurie was – lost in the confusion of what it was that had taken over my life, and at times had sabotaged what could have been the most beautiful time in my life.

I won’t say that all was lost.  I did have some great times with my children.  Unfortunately, sometimes I have to look at pictures to remind me that I did have those.

I know I lost their teenage years to their father.  In hindsight, this was likely a good thing.  I try to resolve with myself if that was selfish of me to not fight the mammoth harder to have more time with them, but in the end, the fight to do so would have most likely just applied more scars to what already was a nightmare of a divorce and ending of a family unit.

Today I am very happy and I have forgiven myself for many things.  I do believe, however, the hardest one is the questions of parenting.  But I have to let those go.  My sons and daughter have advise me to do so, and to stop being sorry for what might have been.  So it is my duty to myself and them to move forward as I am doing, and enjoy every moment I have with them, however brief and few now that they are all young adults.

I end this with the song I was listening to that does make you think…. and realize it is so important to embrace the time we have with family and friends and even more so, with self.  For when the times alone are ones that you cherish, it makes it all the more magical to share the love you have for yourself with others you love.


Are We Returning to Rubenesque

Rubens The-Judgment-of-Paris-c_-1625

Peter Paul Rubens… what a wonder.  Love his women in Rubenesque style and painted them so wonderfully.  Believe it or not I am an Art History Major and when I was going through my Media Folly of Skinny Be Me in those magazines, I was also studying Paul’s art.  Not only his, but Paul Peel, who painted the most wonderful painting of a woman I was fascinated with and did my theory on. I was fascinated because these artists loved their women as they were.  Not magazine skinny, but beautiful and full and gorgeous.

A few samples before I go to sleep.  Tired but love to share before I go to bed when I am feeling the happiness of being who I am. 🙂

Thank You To All – 23,000 hits!

I can’t believe it.  Two years ago I started this site and never would I have believe that I would have had so many people visit my site.  I did it during my recovery and I knew I was ready to be able to post without triggering a desire to eat and throw up.  It was a pinnacle in my life.  It was when I knew that I really never wanted to go back again.  All your comments, your likes, your posts I’ve visited have truly been a great journey towards a new life for me and a greater understanding of just how wide spread this issue is.  I always knew it was big, but it’s even bigger than I thought.  I truly do want to start a campaign “Quit The Skinny”.  I want to get together with some of you out there willing to take this on and start making it an issued that is recognized for what it really is!  We hide behind the internet, understandably, but I am willing to put my face out there if I have to.  I don’t need to hide anymore.  I would love to have a few of you willing to do the same to come out and say “enough is enough”!

Perfection is not about the body, but media keeps making it so.

I am willing to share this with someone, or someones who want to join me.  I really don’t want to do this alone.  Together we stand!  Let me know if you are interested.  23000 hits must be saying something!  Don’t you think?

Hugs to all out there.  For those fighting, keep up the fight towards recovery.  For those of you still in the midst of wondering where to go, keep reaching out.  For those who are recovered – speak out!

Every Time That It Rains I Feel Like Dancing

It’s raining out tonight…

Peeps are strange.  When you are starting to pull your life together some of them want to knock it down.  Even those you think would be there building up your confidence.  But then you realize that the ones that are trying to break that wall you are climbing are those that don’t want to climb that wall next to you.  They are just satisfied with the bottom of the wall and don’t like to see you climb!!

I am a recovered bulimic, so people like this around me are hard to deal with.  Why?  because I feel their sorrow and self-deception and their unwillingness to understand that their  way out.

I did so much in my life even as a bulimic.  Just think, now that I’m feeling that I can understand (not control, understand which is more powerful) why I was bulimic and moving forward… what a force!!

I feel bad for those who wallow in their past, who can’t see that there is a future, no matter what age you are.  More so, it’s sad that those who are your age at 50 might feel there is nothing left to live for and give up.  I won’t.  I refuse.

And for some reason the ones that are negative about my new love for life, my new energy is something that they feel is just a joke makes me all the more committed to show that they are wrong.  I suppose sometimes negative motivation works, but while I’m proving to them that they can’t bring me down, I don’t want them around!!  I’ll just make actions speak louder than words and maybe in some way show them that they too can pull out of the rut, the gutter, the place they think is just okay.  NOTHING IS JUST OKAY.  This life is too beautiful to make it JUST OKAY!!


Just where do you find someone who wants to dance with you and feel this young while you are doing it?

Oh wait… Dad did with me today to 80’s music today and he’s 80.    Love you Dad!!

This May Sound Religious, But It’s Not – It’s About Faith and Questions

I love Jesus.  I used to pray to him every night when I was a child.  Brought up Catholic, I had my Holy Bible (in French), my Rosary, my two candles on both sides of my kneeling area (never lit because I wasn’t allowed to deal with fire), and my book of prayers.  I said my “Je vous salut Marie, pleine de grace”, and my “Notre Père Qui Est Aux Cieux” with my rosary that was blessed by the Pope.  I wanted to be a nun.  I lived in this world until I was 11 years old and moved back to Canada from Turkey and met boys.  At this point my faith started waning.  Slowly but surely there were too many questions, too many unanswered questions, too much in the bible that weren’t answered in the Catholic Church that I wanted answers for.  Like, dreams.  I had dreams that were premonitions, but the Catholic Church said that was impossible.  Why not?  Did Mary and Joseph not see in their dreams the words God wanted to tell them when Angels came down to talk to them in their dreams?  Or what about Joseph?

I became disenfranchised.  I lost all that I had until I had my second child at 31.  Suddenly I realized all that I had asked for and prayed for in God’s name came to me.  Some important, some not.  But all of them were amazing gifts.  But I lost my relationship with Jesus.  God was always there, Jesus I couldn’t feel anymore.

Tonight I have an epiphany.  Jesus, unlike God, is a brother, son of God.  I know this sounds bizarre, but I have a wonderful earthly father who gives me glimpses of how God feels about me.  But I never had a brother.  I don’t know what that relationship is like.  I still don’t, even if I have two sons and one daughter.  I don’t understand the relationship between my sons and their sister because I have not been around them in their growing years.  I have only seen what their childhood was like.  Until they turned 13.  And those years, and what I do hear while I’m listening to them, they still distance their sister from their lives because she is not like them.  She is a female.  So I guess, no matter what I will not learn what it it is like to have a brother.

My experience with my ex husband, who I tried to make not just my husband but my best friend, ended up business partners, an affair, and ended.  My second longest relationship ended up with an affair as well, albeit we remain best friends.  But neither could give me honesty, loyalty, friendship and love unconditionally.  Or maybe one has.  Maybe one has come above the call of duty when it came to me looking at him when my guard is down he brings it up as a brother, a friend, a loyal person who is there.  Or is it because my guard is down and he knows my vulnerabilities?  And it makes him feel sorry for me?  Or is it because he feels he owes me when his guard was down and I took care of him in his vulnerabilities?  I chose to because I wanted to and I did care for him unconditionally.  Not something you can teach anyone.  But unlike my earthly father, this man still lies too, although I’m trying to teach him that I know when he lies and to stop.  He’s learning.  Slow process, too afraid to hurt, but lies found out are more hurtful than truth.

Jesus was an honest “man”, son of God, loved all unconditionally.  I suppose my sons love their sister the same way.  She’s lucky to have brothers but she moved away from faith and love of God, yet she has a key I will never have.  My earthly father gave me to key to God.  All I would love is even a surrogate brother to give me the key to Jesus.  One that loves me unconditionally, doesn’t lie to me, is honest, true and a best friend.

Wait.  I do have one.  How dare I forget?  Only thing is he doesn’t believe.  But he is all that I described.  Honest, true, best friend and doesn’t lie to me.  He is like my big brother.  He loves me unconditionally and believes in me and understands me no matter what.

This is a lesson.  when you really search for that person, look no further then the person you hear from most every day, who wonders where you are if you haven’t written something in a day on a blog, or an email.  A person who’s heart is, even if he doesn’t know it, a reflection of my faith that a brother does exist in my life.  Big brother, wise, true, kind, and sometimes stubborn and too smart.  LOL.

I wrote this tonight because I knew the ending to this story.  But I wanted to make sure there was an intro to it all.

To my earthly father, my earthly big brother who I love both dearly.  Thank you for making me know what truth, love, faith and hope are about.  With love being the most important of all.

Thank You God For My Pillows, My Blankets and a Roof Over My Head

I wrote to living a simple life.  To me it’s meaningful.  To others it’s perceived as something other.  My faith has kept me going, and as the movie “Courageous” notes – without my belief in God I would have been spinning like a wheel… or something like that.  I know the movie is “man”, “father”, “husband” based, but it’s a beautiful story of letting your family down and how you come out of it.  I was asked to move back home to be closer to my children.  I suppose they didn’t understand that visiting their mother would not mean a big house, or lots of money.  But I am who I am who I am.  And Yahweh means just that “I am who I am who I am”.  And Yahweh means God.  I have a great earthly father who taught me acceptance, forgiveness, love and hope.  He still gets angry at me sometimes when he feels I’m not being my best, and I understand that.  But he loves me no matter what.  I would too my children.  He loves all four of his daughters no matter what.  I’m sure at times he wonders, but he doesn’t judge.  At least as little as he can.  Sometimes maybe feels like a failure with watching me, one of the University grads without a house I own, a job I would love to have, my children around me.  But he’s always there for me.  Always has been.  He doesn’t judge me like my mother does.  She grew up in a hard time, and tough upbringing, and I was blessed to have had a loving family, no matter what the errors they have made.  I remember now the good.  The good with my parents and sisters, the good with my children before then passed 13, (albeit don’t know much about their years thereafter), but out of all this I do know, less is more.  I can just go whenever I want, wherever I want, and I will always bring the love I have for my family and my children with me.  That will never leave my heart.

I fell off the “wagon” for the month of February every now and again, trying to adjust to yet another move.  But now back on track and I don’t even understand why I fell off in the first place?  Maybe it was the absence of my children or my fear of my mother seeing where I lived, or my sister seeing where I lived (second eldest who took me in when I had nothing), but somehow I realized, my independence, my time with me, was important.  And I found a place affordable to let me continue that part of my journey in life.  To me, I AM courageous.  I chose to test those who love me to accept me for who I am and what period of my life I am going through and to have patience.  Some do, some don’t.  That is their choice.  Mine is to make sure I can find myself, my mental health, my purpose in life.  My children are well provided for, my parents are well, and well provided for, my sisters are well and well provided for.  If I leave this place tomorrow because God wants to take me, I am at peace.  If I have to leave at the drop of the dime because our Saviour has returned, I have nothing to lose, but only everything to gain.

Material possessions are but possessions that you will never go with you when you die.  That men think, or some women, that “He who dies with the most toys wins”? I believe, he or she who dies with loving the littlest you can live on and still be happy lives.  Lives this life on earth well, and will be grateful for heaven when the time comes.

WOW… in the time I was writing this my son dropped by unexpectedly.  He told me he had to talk to me about my text message about how I was sorry how he was embarrassed about me.  He said he never said that.  That he simply held his arms out and said his parents were two extremes.  He said he loved me and would never say that.  I believed him.  Why?  Because it was incredibly unbelievable that my eldest son who always kept in touch with me would say anything like that about me.  But I was wrong.  I believed the rumours.  I failed him by believing he would betray me.  But then again once betrayed, twice and trice betrayed makes you think.  Can this be?  But he did right.  He came face to face to tell me he did NOT say anything like that.  But we found out the culprit who put all that in my mother’s head.  The other sister who betrays.  No wonder she couldn’t look at me in the eyes last time I saw her a couple of days ago.  Guilt holds the fear of looking someone in the eyes.  Or hugging like one should.  I know she’s not happy.  So I will forgive her for trying to put a separation between my loving eldest son and me.  The one who is probably the only of my children who truly understands me.  Let him be protected from her as she helps her son with his sport because my son is in it too and gets so excited about coaching it.  Let her not ever allow herself to put another possible wedge between us.  She failed this time.  I warned him.  Maybe God will have him listen to my words.  It’s in His hands now.  But I know my son will listen.  He knows I mean no harm, no anger, no revenge.  Just want peace.  And never want him to be hurt by the games my family plays on each other.

To my mother who said “you never spend enough time with us”… to her I say “now I know why.  You just like to try to break everything in my life that matters to me”.  But to her “I don’t know why you do it.  And tonight you were wrong.  My son proved it.  He proved YOU wrong.”

Thank you sweet son.  I do love you.  Always have, always will and you are extremely special.  Always knew it, always will.

Thanks Dad

I didn’t think I had it in me to talk to you last night
About the pains I felt so long in places in my life
But I did and you heard
You listened to the words
You answered in your wisdom and didn’t shut me out
A quiet hour with you without one single shout
I love you daddy and as I said
You stood before the jury
A way better place to be….

I forgive you and myself for the things we did not right
But those who do not stand up to theirs will wither in the night….

It’s not a wish I have upon the ones who steal your heart
And happily smile at them as they break themselves apart
It’s just what I know it will happen…… someday somewhere
And truth be known when it does I do not want to be there….