Follow on Bloglovin

Talking About Feelings

Every year we get older we learn new things and oddly enough on the eve of his seventh birthday, he learned that being brave meant more than just jumping off of the top of the steps or tasting that new vegetable or reading a poem in front of the class or ditching that last training wheel.

Although all of those are astounding testaments to childhood bravery.


He learned that being brave is telling the truth about your feelings.

Over the summer, nighttime had suddenly become a tortuous song and dance of tears and begging to stay glued right next to us in our bed until day breaks. There was no reason for this behaviour he claimed. He just wanted to snuggle and I wish I could snuggle forever —  forever and all the days I’d snuggle with him but I also enjoy not tasting my hemorrhaging spleen in my throat when his elbow rams my stomach.

I also do not care to smell his bum in my face when he rotates his way across the mattress as if he was eclipsing my entire body like the moon does the sun.

It was at three in the morning while seated straight up against the wall, breathing rapidly and clutching his favourite stuffie when he finally told me, “I can’t stop my brain at night. I told my brain to stop thinking bad things but it doesn’t and it scares me in the dark.”

“Momma, I’m scared.”


Talking about negative feelings is hard.

It shouldn’t be, but it is.

I know it is.

I remember the very first time that I said that I wasn’t ok.

It was almost exactly seven years ago that I was seated on a cold stretcher across from my OB, naked from the waist down.  I cried and spewed out incoherent sentences about hair loss and leaky boobs and crippling anxiety and paranoia and smashing dinner plates with a fork as my husband looked on in horror.  I think I ended with “I’m f**king crazy” and thank goodness he calmly responded with a moustachey “No. You’re not crazy. You have postpartum depression.”

We forgive you for being a giant colicky asshole for 4 months. You were worth every sleepless night.

We forgive you for being a giant colicky asshole for 4 months. You were worth every sleepless night.

And I got help immediately.

Then just on Tuesday when I crumpled at my psychiatrist’s office I honestly seriously contemplated NOT telling the truth that I had been crying every day all day and thought horrible things.

But the night prior when I watched my son who was so brave in telling me about his feelings, march on to bed after we exchanged hugs and kisses and ninja’ed the hell out of imaginary spiders with five eyeballs under the bed and closed closets and windows and flipped on a lamp that is so bright that I’m sure that we will all get skin cancer, but at least it makes him feel safe enough to fall asleep — I knew what I had to do.

The fear of what came next, feeling ashamed, the awkwardness  of saying “Thanks for your hard efforts over the summer Dr. B.  PS. I want to ram my car into a wall.  I am still your most frustratingly incurable patient ever.” I had to suck it up and be honest and tell him. It was the only way that I was going to get help.

I couldn’t live another day like this.

Nor should you if you’re suffering.

It’s intolerable.

I know it may be silly to compare a child’s bravery at night to that of a person with a mental illness and trying to find the courage to seek help — but this kid, he teaches me more about life than any textbook, any teacher, and any experience I’ve had. He’s the reason I fight even though he still sneaks in our bedroom every once in a while and kicks me in my kidneys for good measure.  

Please reach out and get help.

You’re never alone. I promise you that.

There is a life that is worth living and you are worth it.


If you are in a crisis, call 1-800 273-TALK (8255) National Suicide Prevention LifeLine 




Mama’s Losin’ It
Writing Prompt: Talk about something your child learned this week.

No One Bakes Lasagna Like You Do. Don’t Tell My Mom

In January 1978, the country livestock rejoiced for a ten pound eleven ounce child was born; one that was so big that the doctors were surprised that he didn’t walk out of his mom’s uterus and slap his own chunky ass to elicit his first breath.

“What did you name him?” excited visitors asked.

His dad lifted the receiving blanket revealing his plump baby stuffed into a t-shirt that read:

“Vagina Wrecker.”

This child grew up in a small town where the water smelled like a ten day old fart locked in a Tupperware container and family pets were whatever stray bunny showed up at their door and then was immediately put into a crockpot. He loved the freedom that the country life offered him, except for that one time when his two older brothers’ hog tied him and stole his candy.

His parents raised this tall slender blonde with beautiful blue eyes that you could fall into, to be a respectful gentleman. It was at a shady bar under ultraviolet lights when this city girl with banging hair had finally met the cheese to her cracker.

In September of 2003, I married that boy named Shawn.


A few short months after our wedding, I sustained a severe back injury and Shawn became my caregiver for quite some time.

Master of laundry, housework, tampax runs to the store, and even leg shaving but never ever toenail clipping.

“No god damn way,” Shawn said with the pink razor in his hand, “I’m not clipping your toenails Mrs. Edward Scissor Toes. I’ll risk getting a staph infection from the cuts on the back of my legs you give me at night. It’s bad enough that I’m shaving your legs so you will stop clogging the drain. Do you know that I pulled a wookie out of there yesterday?”

“Shawn, it’s like I’m wearing tap shoes when I walk. I can’t bend over. Please? In sickness and in health remember?”

“I was drunk,” he retorted.

“And that is how this happened,” I said rubbing my pregnant belly.


A few weeks later, I was in the labour and delivery room. I breathed rhythmically just like the Baby Story show on TLC had taught me while Shawn argued with the nurses about holding my leg in the air. “I don’t want to smell anything. I don’t want to see anything. I’m not cutting anything. Got it?” He begrudgingly grabbed hold then kissed my forehead.

He did what they told him to and kept his eyes locked on me until our baby boy was born. Aside from the cone head that could be hidden under a knitted cap, he was absolutely perfect.

yellow baby

Being a new parent was everything I had imagined it would be; horribly unglamorous. All, except the one thing we ignored because “It won’t happen to us”.

I was diagnosed with postpartum depression.

“Why do you love me?” I asked Shawn

“It’s because you have nice postpartum boobs. Obviously.”


In 2011, Shawn found me locked in the bathroom. I thought that men were coming to get me. They smelled like peppermint.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

“Why do you love me?” I asked him.

“Because no one bakes lasagna like you do. Don’t tell my mom.”


Who am I?

The Kimberly I was when I met Shawn is a slightly (maybe a lot different) twisted version.

The Shawn I met, is the same except his knees are shot to hell and bigger pants.


Everyone changes and evolves.

And thankfully and blessedly for twelve years, we’ve changed and evolved and thrived and laughed and cried and crawled and got the f*ck back up together.

We’ve been through so much, so incredibly much.

I don’t know what I’d do or where I’d be without him.

Why he loves me? He never gives me straight answers — but when I lay my head on his chest and listen to his heart during those god awful nights when my mind is at unease, I can hear it in those beats.

My lost soul can always find its way by the rhythm of his heart.


Happy 12 years babe.


Thank you for loving me xoxo

Fall Into Some Family Fun With Netflix | #StreamTeam

Apple Picking

On the weekend had invited our friends over for dinner and a movie and do you know what they said, “Thanks but no thanks. We’re apple picking.”

My husband and I looked at each other and then outside at the very green trees and then back at each other.

“That’s the lamest excuse we’ve ever heard!” my husband said, “Get your buns over here because we have beer!”

And they were all, “No seriously, we are apple picking.”

So again we looked outside at the very greeny-non-apple-picky-feely atmosphere and then back at each other.

Then we got a picture of their kids with their arms full of bright red round apples and their faces, sticky with slopped apple pieces and juices and the widest of smiles.

“So it begins, ” my husband said.

“So it begins,” I echoed.



Last year’s apple picking adventure

Fall is the type of season that most people look forward to all year long. It’s kind of like that pair of jogging pants that you look forward to slipping into when you come home from work. You know the ones that are almost worn out in the bum and have that blasted hole in the knee that you keep getting your big toe caught in every time you put them on.

They’re hideous but they’re amazing and comfortable and they make you feel all fuzzy and good on the inside.

Cozy and warm.

And there is nothing more cozy than watching a good movie while snuggling up with the ones you love after a hard day of apple picking.


So gather round this season to pop some corn, cozy up on the couch under a blanket and screen your family’s favourite movies on Netflix.

New On Netflix For Kids And Family









Last Call



What is your favourite family fall activity?



Health Journeys : A Meditation To Help You Relieve Depression

I remember my insides being wound up tighter than a rubber ball as my thoughts darted this way and that way.  I was praying that whatever prescription my psychiatrist was typing that he’d hurry up and type it already because I could feel myself coming apart at the seams — but no, he was typing it so slow.

So slow.

So slow — like watching someone trying to pour ketchup out of a glass bottle.

I began to panic then had this overwhelming urge to just get up and run out of there.

My anxiety was so intense that I just wanted to rip out of my skin like the Incredible Hulk, jump on the little coffee table and shout at him, “Are you finished filling that out yet?!”

Then my psychiatrist quickly flung his feet off his desk, put the keyboard back, then ever so calmly said, “Try meditation. I’ll see you next week.”

“Meditation? You mean medication?”

“Yes, take your medication but have you also tried meditation. Mindfulness.”

I wanted to throw my shoe at him.

You see I was in the throes of postpartum depression and anxiety and it makes you feel and think awful things. I was an horrible-wired-whatever-mess of emotions ranging from anxiety to paranoia to rage to crushing depression and my armpits were sweating and my boobs were still lactating and my hair was falling out — google told me I was dying on seventeen different occasions.

And he wanted me to mediate this out?

“Yes. I want you to try it.”

So I did and I hated it and I told him.

He acknowledged my concerns and then told me to, “keep doing it.”

So I did even though I still hated it.

But I kept trying.

The problem was my mind was too excitable and my body was far too tense that I couldn’t focus on anything but those sensations. It was almost painful sitting there trying to be still and focusing on the one simple task of calming my breath.

What I found through trial and error was that through guided meditation I was able to focus on someone else’s voice and that made a huge difference. Guided meditation is simply  “meditation with the help of a guide” and in my case, I was using audio programs through apps on my phone. As you listen to the program, or guide, they will lead you through a series of relaxing visualizations.

You can feel the muscles – almost one by one – ease, your breath slows, and your mind that was once darting from each wrinkly bit of your brain to the next finally feels calm.

I come out of it feeling lighter and my mind clearer.


It is such a powerful tool.

Years later (and a changed diagnosis of bipolar and anxiety) I still use meditation in conjunction with my medications.

One of the audio programs that I highly recommend trying is A Meditation To Help You Relieve Depression written and narrated by noted mind-body, holistic pioneer Belleruth Naparstek and produced and distributed by Health Journeys. 


The first time I had listened to the audio I felt such at ease that I had actually fallen asleep. That was such a good thing though! I had not been sleeping well for days because I was so anxious. Belleruth’s soothing and healing voice helped to guide all of my expended energy — energy that was strewn about like worrying about the dishes and kitchen knives because intrusive thoughts are horrific and  worrying about not being a good enough mom and then there was stressing out over tomorrow’s agenda oh and overthinking that conversation that I had in the morning that didn’t go well or maybe it did go well and thinking about every.little.insignificant.thing that makes anxiety horrible and it’s counterpart depression even worse —  and brought it back to my center.

Then I fell asleep.

And it felt good.

This guided imagery program helps to reduce depressive symptoms – negative thinking, loss of energy, excessive self-criticalness, general discouragement, lack of motivation and loss of hope – and improves quality of life and sense of well-being.

For myself, I need to take medications to treat my bipolar disorder, but I think that this type of adjunctive therapy is absolutely beneficial.

From now until September 30th, 2015 Health Journeys is offering a discount of 15% off of their many programs that they have to offer. Use discount code 15MHM



You can find more about this program and many more on their website at:  http://www.healthjourneys.com/

You can also follow Health Journeys on:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/healthjourneys
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HealthJourneys
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/guidedimagery/
Google+: https://plus.google.com/+Healthjourneys1/videos
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCkjewla7rP7-W5-p8jwLr2w


Disclaimer: I received a free download of A Meditation To Help You Relieve Your Depression in exchange for this review.  All opinions are my own. I do believe that guided meditation is a very powerful and very beneficial tool that can help augment current medical care/treatment being received by a medical professional for depression and anxiety and other mental illnesses. With that said, please consult with your health care provider before making any healthcare decisions or for guidance about your specific medical condition.


Live Clean Sheer Light Skin Perfecting Dry Body Oil Review

So I woke up the other morning and saw that my Japanese Maple tree had red leaves. I was tempted to pluck them but much like plucking the sprouts of shockingly grey hairs on my head that I find, I was worried that a bazillion more would grow in its place.


Then when I went for a walk with my son, the path was lined with multi-coloured leaves.

Did we not just flip the calendar page over to September?


Like we literally just flipped the calendar over and it’s like nature gave up on summer.

And you know who I blame for this?

The makers of “Let’s pumpkin spice all the things.”

Are pumpkins even ready to be harvested yet?

I’m not ready to let you go summer!

It was so cold. So cold that the lifeguards were wearing coats and blankets.

It was so cold. So cold that the lifeguards were wearing coats and blankets.

Summer is confused, nature is confused, I’m confused, and so is my skin.

With the cooler weather creeping in, my skin does become quite dry. I only ever use lotion but I was given the opportunity to try Live Clean Sheer Light Skin Perfecting Dry Body Oil ($9.99 CAD).


Live Clean Sheer Light Skin Perfecting Dry Body Oil is made with a Natura8 Complex which is a blend of certified organic oils that includes safflower, argan, jojoba, and coconut, and, unique to Sheer Light Skin Perfecting Dry Body Oil, avocado and sesame. It’s enriched with vitamin E for moisture and illuminating vitamin C to penetrate into the skin and hydrate with a smooth and silky finish.

And of course, like all Live Clean products, Sheer Light Skin Perfecting Dry Body Oil is

  • 99% plant derived
  • pure vegan
  • mineral oil free
  • petroleum free
  • paraben free
  • silicone free
  • phthalate free
  • dye free
  • never tested on animals
  • biodegradable ingredients
  • hypoallergenic
  • preservative-free
  • eco-friendly

I won’t lie. Oils intimidate me and I absolutely love Live Clean and we currently use Live Clean products but I was really worried that the oil was going to be super greasy and I might dislike this product.

But this was not the case at all.

I liked it.

It was surprisingly light and absorbed really well — almost immediately. In fact, the packaging (blame the mail) was a little shoddy so some of the oil had spilled out of the bottle and in the box it came in and all over my hands. I know — worst to clean is oil right? As I was cleaning it, I smoothed it over my hands and wrists and it soaked it right up.

It’s not greasy at all — but a little bit does go a long way which makes this product a good bang for your buck (and it’s already a good deal for $9.99!!).

The smell is wonderfully light and not overpowering.

Live Clean Sheer Light Skin Perfecting Dry Body Oil can also help improve the appearance of scars, stretch marks, uneven skin tone, dry skin, and aging skin.

I say that this product is definitely worth the try. I really liked it and will continue to use it as mother nature tries to figure out what season it is.


Smooth legs and smooth coffee on this chilly *grumble grumble* September morning

Visit Live Clean website www.live-clean.com for more information on their products for baby, kidz, and more eco-friendly products (even for your dog!!), where to purchase, tips on going green, and so much more.


Disclaimer: I received Live Clean Sheer Light Skin Perfecting Dry Body Oil for the purpose of this review. All opinions are my own.

Related Posts with Thumbnails