Booze Be Gone

I am so sick of this sea-saw. I am so mad, and disappointed, and sad all at the same time. My parents need help.
Alcoholism has been part of the family since even before I was born. My mom and dad are self proclaimed alcoholics. I had just gotten used to it, not really expecting anything to ever change. That was the way they were and that was it. I loved them any ways. No matter what. To tell you truth, I had never spent too much time with either of them when they were sober. Back in 2006 my mom was doing quite well, with her own appartment and furnishings. Her and her "ol man" at the time had finally moved out of the dive hotel they were living in, and had gotten themselves a nice place on the west end. Both of them had kind of calmed down, and wern't drinking heavily. Probably because there wasn't alot of extra money left after rent was paid, and bills were paid, but it was nice. I remember going to mom's house and drinking coffee, and smoking cigarettes, as we would take turns playing her old school Nintendo. I was wild back then and would always be out drinking with my friends and come home to pass out on her couch.

When my mom was sober, she was quieter than her usual bellering self. She was kind of nice. She was constantly cleaning and cooking and teasing her boyfriend. It was the best I had ever seen her. But eventually, the drive to drink and party starting coming back and fucking up her life. And down she fell. Rock bottom.

That was a long time ago, and now that she's living out of the city, I never see her. But I do her, when she calls. Although the phone calls have become less and less, I still cringe when I pick up a call from "Gamma". She's always drunk. Sometimes only a little bit, and sometimes rip roaring drunk. Swearing and crying. Oh boy.

As for my dad, I never expected him to change at all. My dad's been an alcoholic for all his life, and seem's quite happy. He's homeless, more times than not, and is the most popular guy in the inner city. A kind of skid-row celebrity. He's forever making jokes about anything and everything, and when he was on the street, he always had a crowd of friends following him where ever he went. I love my daddy dearly. When I got to rehab a couple years ago, I started thinking about him, wondering where he was. I had heard that a homeless man was found dead in a bus stop down town, and had a total panic attack. I was crying, and weeping, and praying and pleading with God to please not let it be daddy. It turned out to be a close friend of my fathers. His best friend. That experience shook me to the core, and I started praying for my dad regularly. It must have shook him to the core too, because shortly after that, my dad checked into a rehab centre, and stayed out there for a time. I found out when I saw his girlfriend one day, walking by my rehab centre. I asked her how my dad was doing and if she knew where he was. She gave me the number to where he was and a few months later, my dad was living down the street from where I was living.

Because I am a believer, I don't believe in accidents. I fully believe that there was a higher power at work here, and that God answered my prayers. For the first time in my life I got to know my REAL dad. I found out he was gentle, and still funny, and very caring. My dad was still a great guy when he was drinking, but I love love love the sober side of him way more. I have had the awesome experience of having dinner with him, and having normal conversations with him. We have taken the kids to the park together and he comes over for coffee all the time. He has even become Raya's very favourite babysitter, and really, the only male father figure in her life. I adore my dad. He's been sober for 2 years now, but falls off the wagon every now and then.

Today was one of those days. It makes me so sad to see him drunk now. It's like my sober daddy is gone, and replaced with this sloppy mess of a man. He's a shell. I hate it. I know he'll be ok, but it's just frustrating that he goes back to that bottle every time. Last time he slipped off the wagon, he ended up breaking his ribs and falling asleep in my dumpster. I accidentally found him when I went to take my garbage out and threw it on him.

I am praying for both my parents tonight. I used to be a fall down drunk too. I really was. There was a time when I thought if I died, I had better at least be drunk and happy when I passed. And then it almost really happened, and my perspective started to change. I called out to God to save me from myself and He listened. This time I am making that same call, on behalf of my parents.

Spring Cleaning

I should have taken my girl to daycare today. I wanted so badly to get things done around the house, and she makes it next to impossible to do anything. Ah well. It's too late now. Even as I write this I am eyeballing my kitchen shelves, knowing that when I'm done, I will have a garbage bag full of old "treasures" to throw away. I wouldn't call myself a hoarder, but I sometimes wonder why I keep every single piece of junk that someone gives me. It's like my baby's blankets. Before and right after I had her, people started showering me with baby blankets and stuffed animals, so now, when it time to de-clutter my linen closets and toyboxes, I still have a ton left over, because I feel guilty for giving away peoples presents. 


It's funny that when your just starting out, like I was back in September, people give you the oddest things. Little ornaments, and fake plants, etc. Things I normally would never have bought myself suddenly have become these weird "treasures" in my home. Well, I live in a very tiny appartment and there is absolutly no room for extra treasures anymore. I am starting to feel calastraphobic in my own home, and I must do something before next term begins. I found that this last semester I was easily distracted from my studies to clean and organize constantly. I envy those minimilast homes where there is no clutter anywhere. Never do you see piles of papers, and mail strewn across the clean glass table tops, or hundreds of my little pony's peeking out of every couch cushion. 


I still have boxes that havn't been unpacked in my bedroom closet, and I'm starting to wonder if I really need anything in those boxes. I don't seem to have needed anything in them yet, and I have living here for a good 8 months. I can't wait to get started. It will be like a boulder being lifted off my shoulders to get my place in order. In between school, and working, I havn't had the time or energy to get this imporatnt task done yet.


Oh, by the way. I totally rocked my Management final exam. 93%. Surprised even myself. 

The Real Test

So, as you all know, I have been going to University since Jamuary. This term is almost over and I couldn't be happier. Although I do feel very blessed to have second chance at an education, and I am extremely grateful to my community for supporting me financially, I will admit to you that school is probably the hardest, and tortuous experience I have had. It's hard.

The next two weeks, I will be measured on just how much I have actually learned, and find out how I measure up. I am not afraid. Just relieved to find out, once and for all, if school is my thing. I would LOVE to be able to start working in my chosen feild and skip the whole school thing, but unfortualtly I need a little piece of paper to get the good jobs.

I pray that I do well in my exams and that the desire to learn would once again fill me up, and motivate me to become competitive in the classroom again. I just feel so burnt out right now. Like my energy level is not enough to get my butt to school.

First Final is tomorrow. Computers. I know I am going to ace it. I am a computer wizard. Always have been.

Thursday is my Management Final. I'm a little nervous but feel confident I will pass. Oh Lord. I can't for this to be over. Can;'t wait to have some time off to recooperate, and relax. I have had a very busy 2 1/2 years already, and I'm ready for a break.

Letters to Raya

Some of my life's greatest joys are when I hear stories of what I was like when I was little. My Nanny is the greatest at theses stories. I love hearing about the things I have forgotten about, and the things I remember. I enjoy hearing her first memory of us when we first came into her life. About how I was so protective of my little sister, and always made sure she was served first, before me. These are the kind of memories that make me go, "Awww...really? I was so cute wasn't I?"

I have been thinking for the past few months some dreadfully morbid thought. I don't know why. Perhaps because in this past year, both my Grandparents have died, and my step-father, and maybe death is on the brain. Anyways, I've been thinking that I want Raya to have those same kind of stories about herself, so today I started a folder, in my red laptop, named "Letters to Raya". As often as I think about it, I will fill this folder up with little stories, describing to Raya what she was like when she was 2. When she gets older I will give her a flash drive full of these letters, that she can read, and know just how important she was and still is to be.

My dad likes to tell me stories about myself too, but my dad was a full fledged alcoholic when I was a baby, and although it's cute., he tells me the same stories over and over again. The time I beat the little white girl up. The time we went to radway for christmas and I helped him chop wood. The time he kidnapped me and took me to the rez, and his relatives did "Indian Medicine" on me, the time I ran away on my tricycle and I was found peddling my way to barrhead, on the highway. Even though I've heard these stories time and time again, I still love the sparkle my dad gets in his eye, when he tells me these stories. Its like he remembers them like they were yesterday. Praise the Lord my dad is sober now and we can make new memories.

This morning Raya taught me a good lesson in parenting. As I ran around my apartment like  chicken with my head cut off, she came up to be and demanded that I pick her up. Then, she snuggled into my chest and started slurping on her fingers and didn't move for 20 minutes. I'll admit that first few minutes I had my eye on the clock, but then it slowly started to dawn on me that she NEEDED to feel loved by me. So I sat, silently, and rocked her back and forth. She just laid there on my chest, so content. We did that close to half an hour, until she was ready to be put down. When she was ready, I called a cab and took her to daycare. It was worth it.

I wrote her a letter, thanking her for making me into a better person. She does this daily. She truly has been such a changing force in my life, and I hardly recognize myself, from who I used to be.

How can it be, that such an angry, hard, and insecure individual has changed into this shining, bright, motivated, successful human being? How is possible? Only through the grace of God Himself, can this happen. One of His greatest gifts to me has been our little Raya. He knew who she was before He sent her to me, and I am amazed at how such a tiny little person has changed who I thought I was. Amazing.

Life Direction

Something weird happened when I started going to school. Suddenly I started dreaming about possible future careers and actually started thinking that I could manage University. It's been a rewarding experience, but also so confusing. I have, many times, been stuck between doing things I feel like I SHOULD do, and between things I know I WANT to do.

Also, my reasons for doing certain courses have been...different. If I am allowing myself to be completly honest with myself, during this blog, my first admission will be that I am in the Management Program because *cringe* I wanna be the boss. I want to be the one in charge, one day. *cringe again* I want to be prepared to take charge of whereever I end up working, and want to be prepared for my upcoming promotions. Phew! Now that that's outta the way...

Management is very, very dry, but I do feel better prepared to take on managerial jobs should the position ever come up. Oh my gosh, I am just laughing in my head right now, as I think about myself sometime in the future, reading back on all my thoughts, and remembering how very sure I am that I will, in fact get promoted, whereever I go. Hmm..

As for my real passion in life, I just want to help people. I have had a very "interesting" life, and have had to depend on people in the Human Services feild, quite often, and have probably had more bad experiences with social workers, that good ones. When I think of a social worker, I think of those old, worn out ladies in the welfare office, who have a checklist in front of them, and sit there, with permanent frowns on their faces and go down the list. Why do you need help. Why can't you work. Where is your government issued picture I.D. Where is your signed rent report? They always make you feel like you shoudn't even be there, askihg for help. They secretly jidge and condemn you the moment you step into cubicle. I've never wanted to be one of them. I probably won't be one of them. Please God, don't make me one of them.

But as for helping people, I read the career description for Social Work, and knew that that's where I want to be. I want to be able to point people in the right direction when they are looking for help, and life changes. I want to be able to help them find food, and housing and other basic needs. I also want to help epople start realizing their true potential and open the doors to help people strt dreaming again.

I know whats it like to feel stuck. I know what it's like to feel like the whole world has given up on you. I know what it feels like to not have any control over your actions. I know what it feels like to be in an abusive relationship. I know what it's like to WANT to get help, but have no idea where to turn. I have so much life experience that I think social work is what I was meant to be.

As my confidence grows in my life direction, the pressure to perform slowly starts to fade away. I am doing this for ME. Not to impress others with a mighty title. I am doing this because I need to do something with my life, that matters. I need to get out there and share my experiences with people, so that they know that it is possible to change. It is possible to grow. It is possible to become one of those annoyingly happy, and successful people that you see on the news every now and then, sharing their incredible success story. It is possible.

I am still working on my success story. I do have quite alot in my story already. I have alot of people rooting for me, nd supporting me, and believeing in me, and I canb't tell you what a difference that makes in my life. A HIGE difference. I am excited to start doing some of those same things for others.

With God by my side, and faith that He will do the leading in my life, even the best scenerio I can think of won't even to compare to the life He has in store for me. Its a very exciting time to be me.

Baggy Pants?

My smallest pair of jeans are getting really baggy! So exciting! I have also started to make some healthier lifestyle changes, so I feel I am, in fact, coming closer and closer to reaching my goal! Fitness and eating right. Paying off? Yes. Yes, I think it is!

In a School Daze

So, just to make it clear, University Studies is nothing like upgrading. There is alot self teaching in University. There is tons of homework. And there is alot riding on me passing. I have to pass all these courses befor I can begin next term. Oh why! Oh why! Did I get so behind?! And why?Oh why? Am I having a hard time staying interested in this?


I know I dont have many options. I HAVE to finish what I started. Not only is school my only source of income right now, but I know if I quit I will sent tumbling into a spiral of shame and self doubt, and I will have ahard time believeing in myself again. This is such a challenging time of my life.


I seriously need a good slap in the face.


I am not allowing myself to think the worst. It goes against my religion.


I had better just get to school everyday from now on, no matter how comfy and warm my bed is. It's not like I ever really get to sleep in anyways. Not with Ray waking up automatically by 8am everyday. And then it's not enough that she's up, she HAS to crawl into my bed and sit on my head, to make sure I get up with her so I can watch her color and throw balls around the livingroom, and unravel rolls of toliet paper around my used to be clean appartment. With all this snowfall we've had, I am tired even before I walk out the door, knowing I'll have to navigate her HUGE ASS stroller through the snow and ice just to get to daycare, and then have to tranfer to 3 different busses to get to school because I havn't been able to afford to take driving lessons yet, and I am already a 33 year old woman.


But then, when I finally DO arrive at school, I love it there. I sit in the front row of each class, and volunteer my answers to my teachers. And I chill in the library with my new red laptop, and catch up on homework, or look for interesting DVD's to check out, or update my facebook status to something real nerdy. I wave at all the people that I pass by, who are in my classes, and pretend I know their names(which I don't. I'm terrible with names) and I stop by the store to see if there is anything else I could possibly buy that has the name of my school on it.


One day, I will look back on these school days, as THEE DAYS. Just like when I finally moved out of Rehab. While I was there it seemed so boring. But now, looking back, I'm a thinking ..wow. That was awesome. Just had so much time to relax, and chill, and work on myself, and only myself. Had so much time to make scripture cards. Had so much time to read my bible, and take part in bible studies. I miss those days. Thoses were the days, man. Now I feel like I am being pulled in every direction, not sure exactly where I am going, or what I am doing. Not sure where my furture is gonna lead. Not sure if I chose the right carreer. In fact, really thinking I chose wrong. Hoping it's right. But thinking it's wrong. Hoping God can turn this mistake into another miracle, like He always seems to do. Hoping, hoping, hoping.


Real life sucks man. This is way harder than drinking my life away. Way harder. I know it's gonna be worth it in the end though. It has to be.

My 5 minute presentation on Homelessness

Hi! My name is Chris Gail and Iam a 33 year old student here, in the Business Program. As some of you may know, one of my goals when I finish this program is to be able to run a homeless shelter. It's not because I am this great person, who can be compared to Mother Theresa. It's not because I have extremely high morals and that I want to save the world either. The truth of the matter is that I want to help the homeless because, I, myself, was once there.

Back in 2009, my life was quite different from what it is today. The summer of 2009, you would have found me in the downtown core, trying to survive. My life had lost meaning and purpose, and I found myself on the streets, here in this city. You would be surprised at the kind of people I met down there. People like me. Just normal human beings who had gone through different struggles in life, and had found themselves homeless. They wern't born homeless.

Among those that I met was a man in his 50's. His wife had divorced him due to his alcohol problem, and had kicked him out. He was a nice man. I always felt like he didn't belone out there. He was too nice, and was taken advantage of too many times. He had a nice house on the northside that was bought and paid for, and his wife lived there. He, however, slept on an old matress, in the back alley, covered up with an old piece of carpet.

Another man I met I met out there had been on the streets for years. It was like he was used to it. Same ol, same ol. He was terminally ill, and knew he was dying. He had a great sense of humor and was always willing to share what little he had, wherther that be smokes, food or beer. He visited his sick wife in the hospital everyday, and even though he tried to put up a brave front, I remember a few times when he would sit in that back alley, with a far away look in his eyes, and you could just tell that his heart was breaking a little bit more. Even if she did get better, they didn't have anywhere to go. The streets WAS home.

As the summer started to come to an end, and september approached, it started to get really really cold outside. The wind started blowing right through us, and staying outside all day was no longer an option. It was just too cold. Luckily there were a few organizations downtown that opened their doors to the homeless, so we could warm up. Anyways, that was a turning point in my life. I just couldn't do it anymore. I was worn out, and worn down, and tired of that life.

Fortunately for me, I had family to turn to. I hadn't talked to them for years because I didn't want to make them worry, but that day, I knew they would be my way out. And so I made that life changing call home.

Thats the day I left homeless life behind me. These last 3 years have been wonderful. I have been so fortunate to start experienceing a new quality of life!I am now a mother. I have an adorable 2 year old girl. I am a successful student. I have doing studeis for 2 years now! I now live in a 2 bedroom appartment complete with a memory foam pillow top matress! I have come a long ways. No matter how many good things I've experienced since that time in my life, living on the streets in an experience I can never forget. It changed my perspective and it's one of those thigs that some people never escape!

I am blessed that I got out. Now that my life is on the right track, I feel the need to try and help. My life used to mean nothing and I know how those people feel. I've felt the defeat, and hopelessness. I know what it feels like to believe your worthless. Its not a nice feeling. And it's not true. Nobody is worthless. Every human being has value. I would like to be involved in a place where hope can be introduced or even restored, to those who have lost it, or may have never experienced hope before.  I am hoping that by the time I finish my diploma in Business I will have the skills and confidence to run a place that gives homeless people a new start in life. I was lucky to have my Nickel family. They supported me (financially, spiritually and emotionally) and encouraged me to try something new. I would like to have that opportunity to help others the way I was helped.

For now, I must remain focused on my studies, but I am taking all donations of blankets for the homeless. Like I said, it's cold out there. I am currently volunteering at a place that helps the less fortunate because it remains a cause that is close to my heart. I  have seen old friends and family members down there and they need blankets. So please, if you have an extra blanket sitting around at home, bring it in and give it to me, so I can make sure that someone who needs it, gets it!

Homeless people are human beings. And the reson I shared my story with you is because I want you to remember , the next time you see someone less fortunate, is that they are someones sister, someones dad, they are someone's husband or wife. Who know's why they are there? Could be addiction, depression, or maybe it's just their way of life. Whatever the reson may be, bottom line is that thay are a human being. Just like me. Thank you for listening.

Mommy Dearest

You know what? I'm kinda scared for my mom. You see, my dad just died, and now she's alone. I know she's feeling lonely, cuz she has called me and told me that she is lonely. I feel bad for her, because I don't know how she's going to find someone who loves her as much as my dad loved her. She is difficult to be around. She is sometimes mean. She is bossy. She is demanding. But dad didn't care. He loved her with all his heart, no matter what. I don't know if she'll find someone with an unconditional love for her again.


I love my mom. I really do. So I am praying for her, and hoping for the best. I know for a fact that God can do anything He chooses to do, and so I will continue to pray and never lose hope that her life will continually get better.

Day Two of Fitness

There is sweat pouring down my face right now. My body is emulating off enough heat to warm a small tent. I have just finished level 1 of the 30-Day Shred. There was a war going in my mind all day today. Around noon, when I put Raya down for her nap, was when the war began. "You should do a quick workout while Raya's sleeping!" an excited voice in my head said. "Well, let's just check how SIMS is doing. I need to make some more money real quick first." the other voice replied. An hour and a half later, I have made some clever remarks on facebook, and now Raya is crying to get out of bed. Hmmm, well, the workout will have to wait.

It wasn't until about half an hour ago, when I was bored of watching repeats on HGTV, that I decided that 20 minutes wouldn't be all that bad. Plus, I wouldn't be able to brag about working out again! hahaha

Anyways, I feel great. I feel like change is coming. I feel hopeful. Oh ya, and I feel sticky and sweaty.

I'd better go shower.

Night y'all!