Diary of a Restless Rebel – 13 May 2019

It was Mother’s Day in North America yesterday and while most were out celebrating this day with their mother. Someone very close to me hasn’t been on speaking terms with his.  Normally they have quite a close relationship so this felt like a bit of a blow to him and as a result, it was a difficult day.

This reminded me of how the dynamic of a mother child relationship can be idealised and skewed.  While many are blessed to have a great relationship with their parents, some don’t, or it like others, it goes up and down depending on circumstance. This romanticized perspective is only encouraged by the advertised images of flowers, spa days and brunches in pastel dresses.

Something that has become very clear through time and having seen many stages and forms of motherhood, is they are human.  And as imperfect humans she will make mistakes and have vulnerabilities like everyone else.  She will have made her decisions based on her own life experience. Sometimes they are right, and sometimes what seems right at the time is wrong for the people around her.

I’ve experienced my version of this when I realised who my parents actually were, but it took time, making my own mistakes and a difficult self realisation that I too, am human. This led to forgiveness.  Only then was I able to truly express gratitude for her and my dad.

Here is a throwback to something I wrote about it:

“How do I begin to describe with words the love and gratitude I have for this amazing woman? Growing up Canadian with immigrant parents I never really understood the self sacrifice she and dad made in moving across the globe to a country so different in thoughts, ideas and culture from their own. All for the purpose of stability and paving a bright future for themselves and their family. It would have been extremely difficult to settle in a new environment and raise children knowing they may not understand your own country and culture. I didn’t appreciate the difficulties with this adjustment and took their parenting methods as strict and suppressive. I hold my hands up and apologise for being such an ungrateful brat all those years. With a more mature view, I now understand they did the best they could the way they knew how. I am so grateful for the constant love, guidance and sacrifice they’ve made. My mother has grit, she is a lover and a survivor. Thank you for all you’ve done, I love you to the moon and back.”

I’ve been living in a different city than my own mother for quite some time now, so we didn’t have the chance to have our own brunch in pastel dresses.  It was more like a 5 minute telephone conversation, and as she whispered “Thank you for the call, I love you” because of a sleeping infant granddaughter in her arms .  We knew this was all we needed, because through time we’ve come to a mutual understanding that we love each other in our own way.

As for my friend, well, he doesn’t know it yet, but he and his mother will make up. And all will be well again in his world.  I’ve never been much for pastel colours and brunch, but here is to real life,  And a Happy Mother’s day to motherhood in all its forms.

With Love, Flo xx


Diary of a Restless Rebel – 5th March 2019

I’m preparing to visit family in my hometown next month.  It’s actually a great little city and has really grown in the last decade however I’ve never liked the place much, and always felt like it was a bit of a fishbowl. I’ve also had some pretty horrible experiences as a kid in school with bullying, and never quite felt like I fit in.

Primary school had its moments, but middle school was the worst.  A group of core girls really hated me, they jumped me after school one time, and got some other asshole boys to vandalise the garage at home with graffiti and eggs, they spread nasty rumours and Continue reading

Diary of a Restless Rebel – 19 February 2019

At the start of this month I moved to a new place of residence, again.  Yes I can’t seem to stay in one place for too long.  But I left a shitty situation at the last place, my landlords/ housemates were illicitly renting out a room in their home where they are part of a system designed to help low income families. Yep, subsidised housing made possible with our tax dollars. On the surface everything looked fine and the woman was pleasant during the hour long room viewing.  I only found out after I had already moved in.  And unfortunately, the stereotype for impoverished households rings true for this couple. Addictions, laziness and disregard for social and economic rules plagued the home.  The man slipped in and out of alcoholism as quickly as he started and ended employment in the trades.  His wife had her own problems, the painkillers she was taking for various ailments had her in bed all day and unable to work, she actually admitted one day she wasn’t cut for the 9-5…

I found a new place I thought would be better, buuuuut it’s turning out to be a bit of a nightmare.  My landlady, shall we say isn’t the greatest, and I can think of some very good four letter words to describe her very well. The other night, an incident happened that inspired me to write this post. Feeling pretty sorry for myself,  I traced back my stretch of renting life and turns out living in shitty dwellings and situations really isn’t something new for me.

I suppose moving house over 15 times in 11 years will leave one exposed to alot of different situations and personalities.  And tbh I can’t recall the exact number of moves, I’ve now lost count. When moved to London in 2008, that’s when things really began to get weird…

I once moved out of one place because of a fight over a meal I cooked with meat, the newly converted vegan decided to change the policies of the home.  “The smell of burning flesh” as he put it, was too much to bare. Another woman made up rules to live by in her apartment for me, but decided those same rules didn’t apply to her, I caught her more than once snooping around in my things. One very old house was literally falling apart, the 120 year old plaster ceiling came crashing down one day as we conducted a new housemate interview and nearly fell on the interviewee.  Not to mention the mice in the kitchen and mushrooms growing in the downstairs loo that didn’t help our cause.

Some things are to be expected when you’re living with other young people, like hearing sex noises at anytime of the day or in the shower. Beds squeaking from above, or across the hall especially on the weekends.  Parties were another point of contention.  In one place, the police and paramedics showed up at the door up to three times in a weekend because of a housemate’s inability to control his addictions.  During one stand out instance, D and I tried to revive M as he was passed out and suffering a hypoglycemic attack after he partied for 3 days on meth.  We recreated our own scene from Pulp Fiction in the process, but instead of a needle to the heart, it was an insulin jab to the thigh. I’m pretty certain M was a prostitute too.  After M was asked to leave for his very disruptive partying and sex habits, he robbed D and I while we were at work blaming it on a break in, which we figured out, he staged.

I’ve even had arguments with the neighbours through the wall, about annoying loud behaviour.  Falling out of friendships after living together is also very common, it’s a sad but true occurrence.

But you know? I’m at the point amidst all these events, I think it might be me.  Living with people is hard, and let’s be honest, who the fuck is easy to live with?  Finding the right mix is difficult, and it’s very possible I’m the one attracting the cray!

I suppose now that I am actually longing for a chilled out vibe at home, in a place I can call my own – my nesting instincts are pretty high these days and my tolerance for bullshit is low.

In favour of keeping my own sanity and living in the present, I know I cannot control anyone nor change them.  And seeing that my current landlady is in her late 60’s and def set in her ways, I can be the flexible one,  let go and try and forgive her for her shitty attitude.  I’m sure she’s had bad tenants in the past, it’s unfortunate these jerks have to ruin it for the rest of us.

I’m going to meditate and try the Hoʻoponopono technique.  I’ll send love and forgiveness out.  Lets see if this works.

With Love, Flo xx


Diary of a Restless Rebel – 5th February 2019

I started watching a TV program on Netflix yesterday about a woman who wakes to re-live her 36th birthday over and over again after she dies an untimely death.  A “glitch” in time is giving her another chance to make her life right and it had me thinking about my own life.

This morning I woke up to my own birthday and I identify metaphorically to the concept that every year we’re given another chance by the universe to set our lives right, with a restart or beginning of a new cycle.  It all sounds about right? We’re on a journey thinking we’ve completed it only to begin another.  But in reality we have never really finished the first.  A friend pointed this out to me the other week as we caught up about all that was so-called “new” in our lives. “Flo, you’re still on the same fucking journey you were on 3 years ago when we were living in London.”  Well he was right, turns out my journey is still the same, but my environment has changed, adding new challenges and insights. Continue reading