Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Loose Ends....and Craziness



While yesterday I mentioned that I was starting to prepare for my upcoming hospital stay I started to go through a piece of luggage that normally comes with me. In it I include many small writing pads along with a wealth of pens, markers and even crayons.  One of my favourite things to do is to write; often I craft letters and even take a stab at poetry. Having said this, I came across a couple of smaller note pads that I had apparently written on during my last stay which would have been in the early fall. At first I did not recognize the handwriting let alone the actual notes on the pages. When I began reading what was written I wondered “who in the hell wrote this?”



Then I recalled….yup that was me. One night I remembered dreaming about having arrived at the gates of heaven and how I was not allowed to enter because I first needed to complete a skill answering question. Of course no one would know this but I am not so good at math, however I do remember BEDMAS. Unfortunately I have not really ever needed to do this math in my everyday life, and yet I have always longed to show off this small remembrance from elementary school. Anyways, the whole  idea of having to correctly answer this long math equation prior to being accepted into heaven apparently got me panicked. Because the entire first writing pad was full of possible “practice” questions. I must have woke up utterly stressed about this. 

As I continued to look through the entire scribbled on collection of writing pads I found a test with my name and date on it and yes it was even marked/corrected with red pen. 


The top left corner bared my name alongside of the date I wrote the test. Question 1. was to list all of the Prime Ministers of Canada in order along with part B, where I was to name the political party associated with the Prime Minister and write 1 fact that made that individual stand out. The sad part was that after I wrote my own test, I also marked and graded myself. Oh and wrote “Great Job Christine” at the top of the page.

Writing pad number 3 was filled with scribbles and small geometric shapes in all assorted colours. Inside each shape I wrote a character flaw about Christine…(this person I apparently know) carefully drawn between each shape was an arrow in green crayon as to connect each shape in a chronological order.  Above each arrow was a date marked in red pen. As I sat and read all of this and tried to make sense of what was written I realized that I was trying to figure out when I made a mistake and why.  I was trying to find connections to certain negative behaviours that I know I am guilty of.  I think I was trying to draw a map of my mind???? I sat and read my thoughts and events that I truly have not thought about in years and in some cases never at all.




No matter what I did last night I could not stop thinking about everything I wrote and was utterly dumb founded as to the events I wrote about. I could not remember some of the events I recalled on my writing pads. I am certain they happened as I had a horrible tug at my throat. I also had a burning lump in the pit of my stomach.  Subconsciously I have been harbouring such ill thoughts about a lot of unsettled issues. I never knew this, I mean we all have things we suppress but some of the items I wrote were pretty bizarre.  So now I have loose ends…………… great! Guilt is all I need to feel at this moment. I fell asleep last night thinking and over thinking this dreaded list of “must fix” before I go, to find myself up at 2:30 am with yet another writing pad and pen and started to create my new list of prioritized issues to settle. (don’t worry I didn’t suppress any events that would be classified as homicidal or a threat of homeland security)




The list included things such things as from my childhood that I was ashamed of, petty items really, but when I recalled the item I felt shame and remorse.  Like steeling pears from my neighbours tree and letting the boy across the street take the blame. No big deal right? Well I remember never feeling good when I saw Mr. Ruth knowing I lied to him, it also made me think that maybe he knew the truth and thought I was a bad kid. I also recalled the time when my other neighbour was doing his daily run down our  sidewalk in preparation for a marathon…… and I jumped out of the bushes and scared him, which of course made him fall off the sidewalk and seriously twist his ankle and NO he never did run his marathon. Even though he was more than understanding about the whole situation he shouldn’t have been! He should have smacked me upside the head! WHY in the hell would I have done that??? I want to write him a letter and say sorry. 




One day I was jumping on the bed at a neighbourhood friend’s house when her little brother nose-dived into the wall because…. I pushed him. Bloody hell did that kid bleed; his mother came running into the room and screamed bloody murder when she saw her poor little boy all covered in his own blood…..I stood there in complete shock and frozen with panic as I knew I was in big, big trouble. My fear was that he would die, as I had never seen someone bleed like that before. Then out of my mouth “I hope he dies”…..REALLY? NOOOOOO……………. What I wanted to say was “I hope he DOES NOT die” but it came out wrong. She turned and spanked me and I was never ever allowed to play there again. Do you have any idea how hard that was to keep from my mom?? I could never ever tell her why I couldn’t go play there; instead I would continually make up excuses as to why they couldn’t play… I also want to call her and tell her what I meant to say, I was NOT a horrible kid even though she must have thought so.




 Should I really allow situations like this to keep me up all night…..jeez. The truth is yes, they should. These are the types of situations that keep me from being settled as an adult. The notion that someone thinks something of me that I am not truly cripples me. Loose ends. I hate the idea that someone has an idea of what kind of person I am when in all reality I am not what they think I am or think they see. It literally kills me that I cannot change the way I am thought of. I have made my share of mistakes and have presented myself in a manner that didn’t always show my true self, and for that I am in pain. Probably my biggest regret about this is that I have never had the gull, the guts nor the balls to stand up for myself and even try to debunk myths about me.

I know that the pattern of behaviour of not clarifying situations to others has been a huge character flaw of mine and recalling events from childhood clearly show me that this has been “me” since I was young. That kills me. Why should it matter anyway what people think of you? In some cases it matters A LOT! I know that it bothers me immensely.


 There have been times in my adult life, even recently that I have allowed people to think something that is not true about me and haven’t taken the necessary steps to clarify or justify my behaviour. Mostly because; in some cases, I am not proud of the truth and I try to protect myself from being judged.  I also have this incredible amount of pride which is contradictory as I am saying that I try to protect myself from others truly knowing my personal business and yet I allow others to think things about me that are not true without even attempting to educate them or change their opinion……  (exhale Christine, take a DEEP breath , exhale again) what a tangled messed up web…… come on there must be a 4th note pad that deals with my low self-esteem, as this sounds a lot like that.






I think that all of the things I wrote (and oh boy there was a lot more written) I kind of need closure to. I am truly sorry for the little things that I have done wrong in my life. I also know that there have been individuals in my life that I have hurt or disappointed. I really want and need them to know that I am sorry and that I am remorseful for not being who I should have been. Obviously by what I wrote about I need to settle some things before it is too late. Should I write letters to these people and apologize? Should I forgive myself for what I have done or not done? My mother will probably tell me to go to church and say confession and will most likely give me a list of her own items that I should seek forgiveness for! ( lol mom.)




Or maybe I should blame the hospital or the nurses……..yes that is the answer! What kind of drugs were they giving me? Truth serum? Hallucinates? Whatever it was that caused me to write out the things I did, I am thankful. It has caused me to self- reflect which is always good to do. I can only become a better person for having done it. I am going to stop typing here and continue to type……Dear so and so, I am sorry for, and Dear So and so I am not sorry for, OK just kidding. 

~Christine~


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