To Frances Spade (from someone else who lost her mom to suicide at 13)

Dear Frances,

I've been thinking a lot about you over the last couple of days. I want to start off by saying that I'm so sorry for your loss. Losing a parent is incredibly difficult at any age, but 13 is even more tough. Not only am I sorry for the loss of your mom, but I'm so sorry that you will be going through this in the public eye, with a lot of people sharing their thoughts and opinions about your mom, her death, stigmas about mental health, and the fact that it was a suicide.

I too lost my mom to suicide when I was 13. It was in 1998 before the internet was popular, yet even still, news of my mom's death and the "mysterious" circumstances spread like wild fire. People said that I was lying. My peers speculated on the way that she died. There were rumours, lies, and a whole lot of opinions that I could have done without - and my mom was just an everyday person, not even a public figure.

Over the last 20 years I've grappled with many emotions, feelings and waves of grief. It isn't my nature to be angry, but if that's what you're feeling, it's ok. Your feelings are valid, whatever they are. A friend once shared with me that grief is like the seasons - ever present, but always changing. Over time you will run the gamut of emotions, you may have already felt like you've gone through too many to name this week.

I was very lucky to have an incredibly guidance counsellor and a very compassionate homeroom teacher when my mom died. And that guidance counsellor set me up with my high school guidance counsellor, who helped me to participate in a bereavement group in my high school. I found a great therapist 2 years ago and she's been instrumental in my continued journey. I am so grateful for those resources and support. I urge you to find that support for yourself, or talk to someone who can help you do so; It will be invaluable for the future.

With each passing day, this will now be the lens with which you view the world. Your friends' and peers' problems will likely feel small and challenging to empathize with for awhile. It isn't common for teens your age to lose a parent, especially not in this way. They may be dealing with moving out of their childhood home, getting a low grade on a test, or having a disagreement with another friend - it is okay to show compassion, set boundaries, and remove yourself from the situation if needed. Managing your own self care and self preservation in those moments is key.

As you meet people in your life who have gone through something similar, don't be afraid to be vulnerable and talk to them about your shared experiences. I have found that I have become deeply connected to those who have experienced trauma, grief, loss and the suicide of a loved one. I cherish those relationships deeply, and know that they have helped me in my own process over time.

Don't read the comments on the internet. While always a good practice, when it comes to these matters I would advise you to be even more stringent. People can be insensitive, cruel and downright nasty. You may feel attacked personally by their words and insensitivity. Save your energy and potential rage.

As the years go by, continue to take care of your own mental health and practice good self care. There will be days that will be hard - some will be predictable (like mother's day, her birthday, the loss of others, special days in your life) and others will be sneaky and catch you by surprise. Lean on your supporters, ask for help from your network and remind yourself that it's ok to not be ok.

Your mom brought joy to many people - not only with her brand, but to you, your family and those who knew her closely; her death does not take that away. Talk about your mom. Say her name. Print photos. Ask people who knew her to tell you stories about her. Repeat your favourite stories about her. When you meet new people, share her story. They won't be able to meet her, but her legacy will continue to live in you.

These are all the things I wish I could go back and tell myself. Twenty years later I am impacted deeply by my mother's life and her death, and I still miss her every day.

Kate Spade was an incredible woman who loved you very much. I am thinking of you through these challenging days, and hope that little by little, things will seem a bit brighter. Take care of yourself.

xo

Photo by Matthew Henry

Mary Jane - for my mom on her birthday

When I was in the sixth grade, Alanis Morissette's Jagged Little Pill album was everything to me. It was one of the first cd's I owned, I knew all the words to all the songs and sang along with them (much to the dismay of my mom at times - she politely explained that it wasn't a great idea for me to belt out all of the words to You Oughta Know...) It was an iconic album for all of the girls in my class, and we bonded over creating new lyrics to Ironic to share some of our elementary school problems.

I grew up listening to a lot of music in our household. My parents introduced me to Motown, Diana Ross, Tina Turner, Madonna, Bob Marley, Sheryl Crow and more. Alanis made her way into the rotation, and I was proud to share the same musical tastes as my mom.

There was one song on the album that we disagreed about: track nine - Mary Jane. At that time it was probably my least favourite and I would skip over it whenever we were listening to the cd. If my mom was around, she would ask me to go back and play the song. I didn't understand why she liked it so much, and hadn't yet come to the realization that perhaps it was the song on the album that she most related to. I would oblige and let the song play out.

The year that album became a favourite in our house was a tough one for our family. We were living two hours away from Toronto, almost all of our friends and family were back home, my dad was commuting back and forth for work, and my mom was especially unhappy. It was really hard on all of us, and I know an especially bad year for my mom's depression. We lost her less than two years later.

After my mom's death, Mary Jane had new meaning.

It's a long way down
On this roller coaster
The last chance streetcar
Went off the track
And you're on it...

What's the matter Mary Jane?
Tell me...

Spending time reading her journal and examining the time leading up to her death gave me new insight into how she may have been feeling, and why this song resonated with her so deeply.

This will be the 20th time I've watched her birthday pass on the calendar since her death.

In February it will be 20 years since she's been gone.

I still wish we were celebrating her birthday together. 

I've sang Mary Jane many times since my mom died - on my own, in the shower, in rehearsal and in shows. It holds a special place in my heart, because I know it was a song my mom really enjoyed. I wish she too could have watched me sing it onstage. While the rest of Jagged Little Pill holds a lot of nostalgia for me, Mary Jane is on another level. 

I never skip track 9 anymore.

Happy birthday mom xo

---

Vocals: Ashley Gibson Piano: Tara Litvack Guitar: Brandon Wall

Recorded at the 120 Diner by Chris James. Special thanks to Jeni Walls

How I Grieve

It's February 24th, which means that it's the 19th anniversary of my mother's death.

Year after year, February throws me into a tizzy and leaves me feeling sad. I've shared before the idea that grief is like the seasons - ever changing, but always present. While I know this and believe it, February continues to hit me like a tonne of bricks every year.

My mom isn't buried in a cemetery, nor do I have a place to visit her in any way, so each year my blog has become a forum for me to honour her memory and reflect on each new season of grief. This is where I'm at today.

It's ok to not be ok.

I've said this before, and I'll say it again. Most of us are guilty of reassuring people that we're ok. I myself found myself telling my therapist that I was "mostly ok" -- and that's totally fine if it's true. But it's also really ok if it's not. And it's also ok to admit it.

In this glossy, social media-driven world it's easy to view one another's lives as polished, easy, ideal or even perfect. But you never really know what's happening behind the photo or what their expression looks like in between camera clicks.

I encourage you to truly ask those around you how they are and adequately prepare yourself for a real and true answer. It's not always sunshine, rainbows and unicorns -- and that's really ok.

And in those darker days, I encourage you to reach out. Ask for help if you need/want it. Practice self care that helps you to feel safe. And do your best to find a glimpse of light in the darkness, just to make the day a tiny bit easier.

Feelings are valid, whatever they are

In past years I've gotten down on myself for anticipating February 24th or just feeling upset as soon as the calendar turned to February. I've worried about being "too upset" or "getting myself worked up". I've been working to remember that my feelings are valid and normal and it's totally ok to feel what I'm feeling. Getting anxious over "getting too upset" doesn't serve anyone, especially me.

Grief is such a difficult thing - it comes in waves and sometimes hits you when you least expect it. There are so many things that have triggered my grief - other deaths, special occasions, difficult life changes, happy life changes, photos, memories, conversations -- the list goes on and on.

I've found myself feeling sad over the last few weeks and doing my best to practice self care, but I've had moments where I've been paralyzed by grief. I've started and ended workouts really quickly, cancelled plans and put myself in bed to manage my emotions. I've been having some really helpful conversations with my therapist and being honest with where I'm at day to day, hour to hour.

I read this quote last night in Brené Brown's book, The Gifts of Imperfection "owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do", which rang especially true.

Showing or expressing feelings is not a sign of weakness. It's not a competition to try and be better or stronger. Feelings are valid - whatever they are.

19 years later, it's still important for me to honour my mom

I moved into my new apartment on January 1st and I've been enjoying making it my own and creating little projects for myself. One of the things that makes me really happy is that there are lots of pictures of my mom throughout my space. I look up in most rooms and she's there.

My mom wasn't a huge fan of having her photo taken, so each of these photos feels like a pretty special gift. Having these photos, talking about her, sharing my thoughts through social media helps me to feel closer to her.

I'm afraid of next year

It blows my mind that 19 years have passed since I've had any contact or a conversation with my mom. I have no frame of reference for what it would be like to have her in my life. I'm an entirely different, grown up person from 13 year old me.

If I'm being totally honest, next year's anniversary scares me a lot. Two decades. 7300 days. Her physical presence in my life feels like more than a lifetime ago. 20 years feels like it has added significance somehow.

Today I will feel what I need to feel. I will continue to practice good self care, surround myself with wonderful people who I love, take time and space to feel safe and remind myself that whatever my feelings are today, they're valid, real and significant.

"As far as I can see, grief will never truly end. It may become softer over time, more gentle, and some days will feel sharp. But grief will last as long as love does -- forever. It's simply the way the absence of your loved one manifests in your heart. A deep longing, accompanied by the deepest love. Some days, the heavy fog may return, and the next day, it may recede, once again. It's all an ebb and flow, a constant dance of sorrow and joy, pain and sweet love." - Scribbles & Crumbs

You are Missing From Me

Tu me manques. You are missing from me.

It seems so much more fitting than just “I miss you” as we say in English. And 18 years after my mom’s death it almost feels redundant and insignificant to say that I miss her.

But I do.

I realize her absence when I’m really excited about something – whether it be a new job, a great day, a cute dress, a new friend, an exciting opportunity.

I realize she’s not there when I want to pick up the phone and call her to talk about a tough decision or challenge that I’m facing in my life. Even up to age 13 I always felt that I could talk to her about anything. I watch friends and family members and colleagues and movie characters and complete strangers talk with their mothers, and I am reminded that I can’t do the same. That’s what moms are there for, right?

I miss her every single day and over the 18 years that she’s been gone I’ve noticed the mom-shaped space in my life. It's not empty, but more like a shadow that is always present. 

This year we lost my Nan. It brought up old feelings and more sadness. While our relationship had its challenges, I loved her and she was still a connection to my mother. Hearing that her house had been sold was a blow to my heart – I had so many memories of my mom in that space and visiting there was such a comfort. That’s gone now too.

With each passing year that she’s gone, it reinforces the fact that she’s not coming back. This isn’t some long vacation or holiday or visit to another country.

As the years go by I continue to wonder what my mom would be like - would she be happy to celebrate her birthday? Would she be on Facebook? What would our relationship be like? What kind of music would she enjoy? How often would we connect? How different would my life be with her in it? I don't know.

Today would have been her 55th birthday. I like to think we would have celebrated. But instead she is missing from me and every single poppy reminds me of my loss. I know that they carry a strong significance, but I can’t help but associate Remembrance Day with another birthday that I won’t get to celebrate with my mom. 11/11 feels like an extra painful day.

Every day my mom is missing from me, but today I'm feeling the loss more significantly.

Happy birthday mom. Tu me manques. 

To the motherless daughters on Mother's Day

Ah, Mother's Day. Here we are again for another year.

I was in a bit of a funk last week - things were busy at work, I was hustling in my coaching business and I just didn't feel like I had any downtime. I felt burnt out for the first time in awhile. And then I also realized that the halo of Mother's Day was shining down on me, and my feelings made even more sense.

I'm always hyper-aware of Mother's Day and how quickly the cards and flowers and mentions pop up after Easter. Part of me thinks "shouldn't every day be Mother's Day?" With my mom being gone 18 years, I think that's how I feel.

I was reading an article about Michelle McNamara's death yesterday and something her daughter said really stuck with me: “When your mom dies you’re the best memory of her. Everything you do and say is a memory of her.”

I've often said that I am the person I am now because of my mom's life and her death. Losing her at 13 took my life on a different course and things turned out a bit differently than perhaps I envisioned. A family member recently told me that I looked like her - which I took as a huge compliment and was also a bit hard to hear.


To the other motherless daughters - I feel you.

And I'm right here with you amid the greeting cards and flowers and brunches and plans and ridiculous email subject lines. As a motherless daughter you know that even a phone call would mean the world. For us, every day is a version of mother's day - and we carry it heavy in our hearts.

I keep waiting for the year that Mother's Day will just pass like any other day in the year. Here we are at number 18 and I haven't gotten there yet.

My best suggestions for managing the day include making nice plans for yourself - with someone special, a friend, another maternal figure or just on your own. Make yourself a priority and be kind to yourself. You may be fine, you may not be -- and that's totally ok. Feelings

Find a way to honour your mom -- maybe through journalling, visiting a special place or even just talking about her. Sharing memories of my mom is one of my very favourite things. There are so many people who are now a part of my life who didn't get the chance to know her, and so just talking about her is very important to me.

You're not alone in your experience and we motherless daughters and those who feel sadness on this day need to stick together.

As I wrote in the above card in 1993, "you're a very special part of our lives and you'll always hold a very special place in our hearts". Little did I know how true that sentiment would truly be as the years went on.

So here we are.

Being a constant memory of my mom. And holding onto any and every memory I have of her for dear life. Sunday will pass and Monday will be a brand new day.

More posts on Mother's Day (2011, 2012, 2013)

A New Season of Grief

A friend recently shared the idea that grief is like the seasons - ever present, but always changing. I know I've mentioned this idea before, but it has deeply resonated with me this month as I approached the 18th anniversary of my mom's death.

February usually haunts me. It's the whole reason why I started the Life is Sweet series and performed 2 shows in my mom's honour. Those projects gave me a place to focus my energy and remember my mom in a cold, bleak, grey month that always felt like it was hanging over me like a dark cloud. In 18 years, I've figured out that I need to practice great self care in February, ask for help and give myself things to look forward to. 

I realized that this year was a different season for me about 2 weeks into February. 

I felt calmer. 

Sadness wasn't my predominant emotion.

I was in control of my feelings. 

As I've reflected on this change in my February demeanour, I've come to attribute it to a few things in my life right now:

• I feel really happy and fulfilled in the work that I'm doing and in my relationships
• I've been practicing good self care by working out each morning, nourishing my body with delicious food, drinking lots of water and getting a good amount of sleep
• I've developed a daily practice of gratitude and spend a few minutes doing positive visualization each night
• I'm going on a cruise in less than 3 weeks and I'm really excited for the downtime, time with Corbin and friends, sunshine and the opportunity to swim with dolphins
• The weather in Toronto hasn't been entirely miserable this year - it was 10 degrees on Saturday!

Corbin said to me last week that he felt like this had been my best February since we had been together and I have to agree. I think it's actually been my best February in a very long time, maybe ever. Perhaps this is a new season? Maybe February doesn't have to hit me like a tonne of bricks every year? Right now I need to get through today. 

My amazing friends and family have been a huge support to me this month. My Nan called last week to ask me how I was doing because she "knows February is hard for me". I woke up to a text message from my sweet aunt sending her love. Corbin made plans to take me out for dinner tonight. A friend (who has known me since the 8th grade when my mom died) just messaged me as I was finishing this post to say that she was thinking of me. I expressed my gratitude for her thoughtful message and she said "I wouldn't let today go by without one". Other friends have sent their love and offered to support me in any way I needed. Asking for help can be really tough, especially when you're an independent, self-sufficient person, but I'm very blessed to have beautiful people in my life who have my back. 

Sometimes it feels like I'm grasping at thin air for a memory of my mom. I have photos, stories, anecdotes, some mementos and her journal, but I wish I had more. Over the years I realize how far away I truly am from her, and that time is only going to increase as I get older. 

This morning I pulled out my mom's journal and read a few pages. I stopped at the letter she added on the very last page for my brother and I in December of 1993:

To Ashley & Cory:

I always knew I wanted to be a mother even before I had you both. You're more than I ever dreamed. 

Each of you is a very special gift from God. I hope I've been the best mother I could be. I hope to always be a positive influence in your lives. 

I know the importance of your individuality and independence. 

I want the best for both of you always. 

I love you both with all my heart. 

I hope to be here with you both for a very long time. 

My love for you both forever. Love Mom

I could re-read that second last line over and over again. I wish I could tell her the impact her life and death has truly had on my life. 

This is what grief looks like for me today, February 24th, 2016. 

In 18 years I've come to learn that grief is always changing. Tomorrow, next month or next year could be entirely different. I don't know because I haven't gotten there yet; I do my best to figure it out along the way.

Life is (still) Sweet

Life is sweet.
I want you to remember that.
It's something that I have believed for as long as I can remember. And it all started with my mom, Debbie.

My mom died by suicide when I was 13, and her life (and death) have greatly impacted my life. I've always been very open about my mom's death and opening up a dialogue about suicide and mental health, because I truly believe that it is something we don't talk about enough in our society.

For the last 3 years, every February I have hosted 'Life is Sweet' month here on my blog. It started with a show that I did to honour my mom's memory and then I thought that hosting a series of guest blog posts would be an incredible way to open up an even bigger conversation about mental health, loss and grief.

From 2013-2015 more than 50 people shared their stories candidly. Their bravery had a huge ripple effect on those who read the posts and the dialogue that followed. I shared posts from friends, family members, former lovers, internet acquaintances and complete strangers, of all ages, backgrounds and life stories. I was continually inspired, moved, and often brought to tears by their stories and their willingness to share.

Some participants told me things they had never shared publicly. Others told me how thankful they were for the opportunity to write about their experience and how it greatly impacted their life. In sharing these posts and my story through this blog series and my Life is Sweet shows, many other people told me their own stories of mental health, mental illness, grief and loss. 

Year after year, the Life is Sweet series has taught me that we need to keep the conversation going - it's not about one day, one week or one month - it needs to be happening year round, because mental illness is a thing that is happening every day in the lives of those around us. All of these people are a reminder that the conversation doesn't end and that it's up to all of us to end the negative stigma around mental illness. 

This project has brought me closer to my mom. Since 1999, February has always filled me with dread - it's cold, dark and dreary here in Canada and to make matters worse, I've always had to contend with my mom's death anniversary at the end of it. It's been 18 years since my mom died and over the last few years I've been so grateful to not only share her story, but to bring a positive light to her death. My blog posts and show have been an opportunity for new people to get to know my mom, and in a way, for me to spend time with her too. I continue to miss her every day. 

These are all of the stories that have been shared from 2013-2015. In the future I hope to categorize them by topic, but wanted to start by sharing them all in one place. I encourage you to read them, share them and keep the conversation going.

February 2013

Life is Sweet, Even in February

Finding Sweetness in Panic

Discovering Her True Self

Like Jackie Chan or Chuck Norris or Something

Left Behind

Writing Her Own Destiny

It Does Get Better

The Science Behind the Mind Body Connection

Demons and Darlings

Loss to Love

Everything is About Infertility - Even Missing Grandma

It's Okay to Not Be Okay

I Want You to Know that Life is Sweet

On the Pursuit of Happiness

The Silver Lining in Healing an Incurable Disease

A Little More Time - Part One / Part Two

More than Just the Baby Blues

Flowers

Know that your Best is Always Enough

Six Years. Brighter Still. 

Twenty Five Years

Missing You

Tales from the 6th Grade

All I Can Give You is Love

Let the Light Shine In

One Ballet Class

Removing the Stigma Surrounding Mental Health

Everything the Life is Sweet Project Has Taught Me

February 2014

Life is Sweet Month - February 2014

The Outgoing Agoraphobic's Guide to Going Outside

All I Wanted Was to Be Listened To

Finding Forgiveness

Getting Back to Me

When Every Day Becomes a Chore

How to Support Someone Living with Mental Illness

Anxiety and Muffin Trays

What's Happening to Me?

Every Day

Does Anyone Really Enjoy a Sequel?

A Beautiful Mess

Life is Sweet and Full of Acceptance

A Gift Nonetheless

Search of the Spirit

Jigsaw Satisfaction

Stranded

Life isn't Always Easy

Time Capsule

Accepting the Sadness

Remembering My Mom and Her Love of Theatre

Memory Lane

It's Still For You Mom

Celebrating Days

Thoughts on a Life Worth Living

All I Know

Life is Sweet - Let's Keep Talking

February 2015

#BellLetsTalk and Life is Sweet 2015

The Other Side of the Story

Awful Sweet, to be a Little Butterfly

Something Sweet From Nothing

How to Lose Someone

Suicide, God and Comments on the Internet

Why My Mum Would Rather Have Cancer Than Bipolar Disorder

Fire Within

Yesterday Was Fine, Wasn't It?

My Year with Clinical Depression. How I Fought Back and Still Fight Every Day. 

Other Posts About My Mom, Mental Health and Grief

The S Word

Smile, Open Your Eyes, Love and Go On

You're Falling Away from Me - What They Don't Tell You About Mother's Day

Dusting Off the Grief Box

To My Mother on Her 50th Birthday

A Motherless Daughter: 13 Years Later

How to Survive Mother's Day as a Motherless Daughter (or Son)

Oh they told you life is hard, misery from the start, it's dull, it's slow, it's painful 

But I tell you life is sweet, in spite of misery, there's so much more, be grateful

- Natalie Merchant

Life is sweet.
I want you to remember that.

Suicide, God and Comments on the Internet

A few months ago, someone that I admire wrote a post about Brittany Maynard, the woman who had moved to a new state with her family so that she could die with compassion. She was terminally ill with brain cancer and her health was deteriorating and she wanted to live the end of her life with dignity and have control over a disease that had taken control of her life.

This person that I admire is openly religious and often posts about his faith. He wrote a post about this woman, asking "what if Brittany choosing to die was not in God's plan" and went on to wonder whether God had great things planned for this woman that she would miss out on because she was choosing to end her own life. I read the post and realized that he and I shared a very different view on Brittany's decision, but then I made the mistake of reading the comments.

People were ripping the woman apart. Some said she should burn in hell for choosing to end her own life. Harsh opinions of suicide ensued. Others criticized her immensely for her "selfish" decision. Comments on the Internet can be a really horrific thing, but I couldn't believe the lack of compassion that these people were showing this woman who had made such a tough decision and shared it publicly. And while Brittany's situation is very different than anything I've experienced in my lifetime, with their criticism of her choice and suicide in general, I felt like they were also attacking my mom.

Since my mom's death in 1998, I've had some very difficult conversations / debates / arguments with people about suicide. It's a heated subject, and I've had my fair share of people express their opinions about it to me.

About how selfish it is.
How awful it is for the people who need to "clean it up".
Shouldn't I be angry at my mom?
And now reading the opinions of these people who believed that those who die by suicide should burn in hell.

Just, wow.

In 17 years I've certainly wondered what had to be happening in my mom's head in order for her to end her life. She had 2 children, family and friends who loved her immensely and she left that behind. I've felt sad for the time I lost with her and all the things she'll never be a part of in my life. It hurts to think about the time we've missed out on together and the moments in my life that she will never experience. The important people in my life that she'll never get to meet. And while suicide is a very final choice, I recognize that those who die by suicide really see no other way to keep living. It's not a feeling that I have personally experienced, but I have felt the bleakness that comes with depression and can only imagine that suicide is a further extension of that. And in Brittany's case, it was a choice to die with dignity. Not an easy one, but a decision that she and her family decided was the right one for her.

I can't imagine condemning anyone to "burn in hell", especially not someone who was hurting immensely and going through their own version of hell; A person who was experiencing a lot of pain and sadness, who through their own actions would leave family and loved ones and a whole life behind. I'm not a religious person, but I understand that the bible says to "love thy neighbour", right?

And like I felt the day I read those comments, I feel the need to write this and defend my mom, because she isn't here to do it herself.

Because in my experience, when people get upset about suicide or the idea of suicide, they forget that there was a person attached to the concept. They dismiss the people that were left behind. They get caught up in being against the idea and view it as a concept that they are against. When really, there's so much more to it than that.

Each year I host this Life is Sweet series for people to share their stories and to remind others of the humanity behind the ideas of mental health, mental illness, suicide and loss. It's easy to get caught up in a concept, but let's remember that there are people behind them.

Seventeen years ago, my beautiful mother Debbie chose to end her life by suicide. I can't claim to understand exactly why, but I know that she dealt with a lot of pain and sadness in her lifetime.

I'm not angry at her.

I don't feel resentful of her "selfish" act.

I feel sad for all that we both missed out on.

And I miss her every day.

It's Still For You, Mom

I had a weird feeling pass over me about a month before my show, The Life is Sweet Project. It didn't feel right anymore.

After more than a year of working on the initial version of the show and then the "new" version, it didn't feel like me and I felt as though it had lost its focus. I realized that I had gotten lost in "ohmygosh a show that I've written is being produced by a theatre company and it's gonna be at the Toronto Centre for the Arts" instead of the "I'm doing this show to pay tribute to my mom because I miss her every day". The intention to get people talking about mental health was always there, but I got blindsided by the "thing" rather than the motivation. I had immersed myself in a process that I thought was the right way to go, but somehow managed to lose sight of the original objective which resulted in a major disconnect.

Thankfully I realized this about 3 weeks before the show and brought it back to its roots again. After our next rehearsal, the show felt settled and my intention was clear. I felt so connected to my mom on the day of the show. On Rogers Daytime and CBC's Here and Now, I talked about our relationship and what it was like to lose my mom to suicide at age 13. I felt confident during soundcheck and in the closing chorus of 'Mama' I felt grounded and close to her.

It's been 16 years since her death and I'm holding on for dear life to anything that will help me feel connected to her.

I wish I could tell you about the last conversation we had.
Or remember the exact sound of her voice.
Or the best piece of advice she ever gave me.
Or what it felt like when she hugged me.
But a lot of it is fading and it's terrifying.

One of the (very) few photos where my mom is smiling

On February 10th I got up in front of a packed audience to talk about how my mom's death made me the person that I am and how the tragedy of her death helps me to more intensely appreciate the happiness and the sweetness in my life. And while that's all very honest and truthful, I still lay in my bed sobbing this weekend thinking about the fact that she'll never meet my boyfriend or that I'll never be able to call her up and take her out for lunch.

She's been gone for 16 years and her life and death both impact me so greatly each and every day still. Days like today make me miss her more intensely and I remain thankful for the time we had together. I am reminded to embrace the sadness and find joy in the memories I do have of her. I'm still trying to figure it all out.

As I did last year, the show has helped me to feel an intense closeness to my mom through sharing her life with a whole set of new people. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to perform my show to honour her memory once again, and that through this series of blog posts, her death cultivates something great and genuinely helps other people.

I will forever be missing my mom and attempting to hold onto the pieces of her memory. I will remind myself of all that I've learned and gained as a result of her death. I will allow myself to feel sadness when thoughts and memories arise. But mostly I will remember that what I do is for her and that the show and the blog series have taken a lot of the sadness and grey out of a month that I normally despise. And that the whole Life is Sweet movement has brought me closer to my mom than ever before.

It's still for you, Mom.

Every Day

Tonight is The Life is Sweet Project; it feels surreal. There are still tickets available and would love to have a full house come 8pm. Teresa wrote two incredible pieces for Life is Sweet last year and I'm so glad she's back. 

I should have went and got groceries yesterday. I should've rallied myself after the 14 hour journey to the Olympic Peninsula in Washington, which was comprised of a 2 hour drive to the airport in Buffalo, 8 hours of planes and a 4 hour drive back down winding roads. I should've turned down the dinner invitation from my friend Kyle, should not have spent the precious 2 hours left in my reserve of energy eating Mexican with him and his friends, locals who are all mechanics and hydro workers, men who have permanent grease under their fingernails and refer to me only as 'Canada'.

Because if I had went and got groceries yesterday I would not have spent today being exposed to the never-ending siege that occurs on Mothers Day. The day when it seems the entire world celebrates what I don’t have, the only thing in the world I can’t find or meet or buy myself. At lunch, the waitress tries to talk me into the special, a chicken cordon blue sandwich 'inspired by mom'. If I had went to get sustenance the day before as planned, I would have been able to just hide in my oceanfront cabin, the one I rented expressly for the purpose of hiding out from the world for a few days to write and be alone in one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. 

But I didn't, so it was off to the supermarket to stock my little kitchenette. Forks is home to 3500 people, and the grocery store is comprised of a traditional grocery and hardware/outdoor outfitters shop, to save time in the event you want a garden hose, some overalls and a pint of milk. Today, it is my personal hell. Even fertilizer is on sale to honor Mom. Everyone in here has flowers in their cart, pink and lavender cards tucked in between plump hams to make dinner for their giver of life. Me? I've got mangoes and vegetable crackers. The stuff best eaten alone, over a sink.

Women in here walk proudly down the aisle, everywhere they go today they are reminded of their achievements in procreation. They all recognize each other and say 'Happy Mothers Day' over the displays of teddy bears and balloons. These Women purposefully pick out their groceries; they scrutinize melons and load up family size boxes of foodstuffs according to their children's age and preferences. I follow one woman around the store who has an overflowing cart of child-sized snacks and a ring with different colored birthstones; this is obviously someone’s mother. She walks with a sort of serenity that I don't know if I will ever have. It looks like she knows her purpose, even if it's just to buy snacks and braid hair and kiss scraped knees.

I hit the check out after wandering aimlessly for an hour, and decide at the last minute to buy a 59 cent red carnation. It looks so lonely and hopeful and I decide I will bring it to the ocean. I would have preferred a red rose, her favorite, but I can't really be that choosy an hour before closing on the most popular day of the year to buy flowers. The teen clerk loads up a big paper bag of my purchases and hands me the flower, carefully, like she is about to ask me to the dance. I take it and walk out of the store, proud of my decision to do something symbolic outside of my usual yearly tradition of bring angry and hiding in my apartment.

Just outside the store there is a huge native man. He wears a grey tracksuit, and has a shiny, jet-black braid that hangs to the middle of his back. His chest is expansive, kind of like bitch tits Bob from ‘Fight club’. Tribal tattoos dot his upper forearm and his skin is the color of burnt butterscotch. He doesn't intimidate me like some of the other men out at the reserve where I am staying, his huge size seems protective as opposed to scary. He spots my hopeful flower and me and calls out 'Happy Mothers Day, especially if you're a Mother!!!!' and shoots me a wide, toothy grin. I almost lose it right there. I want to shout at him 'ACTUALLY, I DONT HAVE A MOTHER SO DON’T ASSUME THINGS!’ I want to dissolve into his huge caramel arms, collapse into his bosom and have him stroke my hair and tell me I will be okay. I just know he would comfort me and have some sort of wisdom on how to heal a 20 year old broken heart and I'm certain he would smell like leather and pipe tobacco.

But I just smile at him and walk to my car, will myself to drive back to the ocean and be miserable in peace without fantasizing about paternal-type comfort from big Indians. When I get back I put on my rain gear and grab my flower and head down the short path to the ocean. I watch the swell and waves for a while, take a picture of the carnation resting on the sand, and think of my mother. Finally, I walk a little toward the tide and throw the flower as hard as I can. But the head of the flower is so much heavier than the stem, and since I am holding the end of it when the wind comes in, a part of the bottom breaks off. I pick it up and try again and it finally hits the water and disappears below the angry white water. I watch its red petals bob up and down a few times and then come swishing back out, landing about 10 feet from mine. I retrieve it and try again, but it comes back again. I keep trying and trying, getting madder each time. DO YOU NOT WANT MY FLOWER MOTHER?! I want to yell. I MISS YOU SO MUCH AND I’M SO SORRY THAT ALL YOURE GETTING FOR MOTHERS DAY IS A 59 CENT CARNATION THAT IS BECOMING MORE RAGGED WITH EVERY ATTEMPT. I AM AWARE THIS IS NOT A FLOWER THAT IS BECOMING OF WHO YOU ARE OR IN LINE WITH WHAT YOU DESERVE. 

Finally, I give up. There are hot, angry tears are streaming down my face and the cold rain and wind are turning my cheeks to stinging red. I leave the flower sitting where it came back the last time at the edge of the surf between two shiny rocks dyed bone china white from the constant salt. I stalk off, angry at myself for trying, angry at my mother, angry at the rain, the ocean, and the world. 

I get to a piece of driftwood and sit down and try to not freak out and collect my thoughts, my back to the traitor body of water that won't accept my offering. I end up thinking of Stephanie Ratza. When I was a kid, after my mom died, a couple of her friends would take turns taking me on outings. They were well meaning, but I always took them as pitying. However, they usually ended up being afternoons of them buying me things, so I tolerated them. Once, her friend Stephanie Ratza asked me 'Do you miss your mom?'  and I quickly and defiantly answered 'No!' for I was already full into my 'I am so tough that I do not need a mother' phase. Already at 8 I was not okay with vulnerability, I had a father that was falling apart, I had to be a stoic rock.

As I sat on that driftwood I thought of Stephanie Ratza and how I am still afraid to miss my mother sometimes. I mean, as much as I've practiced it over the years, its not entirely true that you can't celebrate Mother's Day if you're mother is not here. I mean, I DO have a mother. I got here, didn’t I? She is no longer here in front of me and I can’t ask her for advice on clothes or love or how to iron linen safely, but that doesn't really mean that she doesn't exist. Maybe that's all people really want when they miss someone who has died. They just want them acknowledged; they don't want people to forget someone so integral to their being existed. Just because my mother can't meet my new boyfriend or like my new haircut doesn't make the fact that she was here any less real. 

I have a mother. Her name was Palma. She liked red roses and Bruce Springsteen and long nails and short hair. She was kind to everyone and she is still the most beautiful person I have ever seen up close.  She smelled like vanilla mist, had the faintest accent when she pronounced her 'B's and was so wonderful that 20 years later I am only now beginning to understand what it means to lose her. If I saw that Stephanie Ratza tomorrow and she asked me again if I missed my mother, I would say without hesitation, 'Everyday'.


When I finally got up and looked back, the carnation was gone. 

Teresa is a writer, traveler, nutritionist, tour manager and hula hoop champion.  She likes bukowski, the ocean, holding hands, Roswell reruns, and long, romantic walks down the organic produce aisle. Her blog (www.dancesinthedark.com) is currently under construction, but until then you can find her on twitter @thebandiswithme 

Life is Sweet Month - February 2014

I've been waiting for this day for awhile now and I'm so excited for it to be here! This year marks the second installment of the Life is Sweet series on my blog. The series was created in conjunction with last year's sold out show, Life is Sweet Even in February as a tribute to my mom to get people talking about mental health and loss and help raise money for CAMH (Centre for Addiction and Mental Health). Last year's month of blog posts was a huge success with more than 10,000 views and many people opened up a dialogue through the blog, comments and social media.

After last year's show and month of blog posts, many people approached me about their own experiences. I heard about people's personal battles with mental illness and loss and how the series really helped them to feel less alone and how much they empathized with those who had written. These interactions really solidified how rampant mental illness is and how important it is for us to work towards getting rid of the negative stigma.

With February upon us once again, I'm thrilled to be hosting another month of blog posts for Life is Sweet month. This year's posts talk about depression, anxiety, PTSD, suicide and loss. Once again my guest writers range in age, gender and life experience. I admire their candor and bravery and look forward to continuing to open up a dialogue about these things that we don't talk about enough in our society. It was amazing to see people sharing and opening up on Tuesday for Bell Let's Talk day, but I think it's incredibly important that we keep that conversation going.

It's also wonderful to have the opportunity to further the dialogue through a remount of last year's show, this time at the Toronto Centre for the Arts. Tara and I have revamped the set list and I've reworked the script to bring together a tribute to my mom and have another chance to talk about mental health, loss and finding the sweetness in life. I can't wait to take the stage on Monday February 10th and share our story once again.

I hope that you'll visit the blog this month to read the stories of my guest bloggers, share their stories through social media by using the #lifeissweet hashtag and I'd love to see another sold out house for our show on the 10th. I feel really great about what this February is going to bring.

Head over to BroadwayBabyTO for an interview Kelly and I did this week about The Life is Sweet Project and candidly talking about mental illness

Another November 11th

Today is November 11th. This means it is another birthday that my mom is not here to celebrate; another birthday that I am left to reflect on her life and how much I miss her. 

As I've worked on getting my new show together, I've been thinking a lot about my mom. I did an interview about the show a couple of weeks ago and the interviewer asked me what my mom was like. I hate the fact that as time goes on, I find it more and more difficult to answer this question. In the years that she's been gone, I've worked hard to hold on for dear life to the memories I do have of her, but realize that they're assembled more like an abstract painting than a photograph; Some things about her are blurry and others are fading entirely. I try desperately to hold on to the sound of her voice or her laugh, but worry that as time goes on they will disappear completely. 

I often think about what she would be like now if she were still around. Would she still wear high-waisted jeans and have epic hair? What kind of music would she like? I think my mom would have liked some of the incredible female artists that I listen to including Feist, Adele, Amy Winehouse, and Florence and the Machine which is how Cosmic Love found its way into the set list. I think the epic hair may have stuck around too. 

I recently found myself thinking that my mom would have really liked my boyfriend (which was later solidified when my aunts met him and expressed how much they liked him). It was a pretty emotional moment that completely caught me by surprise. I don't know that I've ever really thought that about a person previously and it's hard to come to terms with the fact that my mom will never get to meet so many of the people who are important to me in my life now. 

I'm thankful to be doing the new version of my show in three months as it's an opportunity for so many others to learn about my mom and her story. When I set out to do the show last February, I didn't realize what a profound experience it would be for me or the effect it would have on others. In her time here, my mom touched a lot of people, but the show and the blog is an opportunity for her life to have an impact on even more people. It's also a chance for me to keep the memories that I do have top of mind and close to my heart. That's incredibly important to me. 

Today is November 11th. While my mom may not be here to celebrate her day, I'm here to reflect on her life and celebrate the time that we did have together. She was such a special woman. Happy birthday. 

---

I'm currently working to put together another month of blog posts for February to run in conjunction with my show, The Life is Sweet Project with Angelwalk Theatre. If you'd be interested in sharing your story of mental health or loss, please check out last February's posts and then send me an email through the contact me link. This year was a moving experience for me, and I'm looking forward to having even more people be a part of it for February 2014. 

How to Survive Mother's Day as a Motherless Daughter (or Son)

Photo by Shopify Partners from Burst

Every year just after Easter, the emails start to flood my inbox:

GIFTS MOM WILL LOVE
11 MOTHER'S DAY GIFTS THAT WILL BLOW MOM'S MIND
SAVE BIG ON THESE DEALS FOR MOM

Everyone from Shopper's Drug Mart, KFC, Netflix to various blogs, Pinterest pins and tweets along with folks around my office and randoms on the street - they're all talking Mother's Day and I can't seem to escape it. I'm sure most people don't even notice the subtle change in the spring marketing messages, but as a motherless daughter I feel like it's a constant reminder that I haven't been able to send my mom a card or flowers to celebrate this 'special day' in 15 years.

Like clockwork each year at the beginning of May I start to get a little bit more sensitive and emotional. Things that wouldn't normally upset me send me into a bit of a spiral. I'm less confident and more caught up in the small stuff. I've started to recognize this pattern in myself in recent years and am slowly developing strategies to cope with one of the three toughest days of the year for me (next to her death anniversary and birthday). Here are some things that are helping me this year:

Be gentle - you may find that days like Mother's Day become a trigger for you, just as they have for me. Breathe and allow yourself to feel whatever it is that you're feeling. Losing a parent is tough on any given day and it's hard to be constantly reminded of your loss by the media and those around you.

Practice good self care - take your time and do something nice for yourself. Take a walk in the sunshine. Journal. Nap. Make a nourishing meal. Have tea. Treat yourself to a new book or manicure. It doesn't need to be elaborate or crazy, but give yourself some time and space to give yourself a little bit of extra TLC

Surround yourself with people you love - you may need a distraction or maybe you want to spend some time talking about your feelings, and these are the people you can count on. Try to communicate how they can support you through this tough day and don't be afraid to ask for their help. You know you'd do the same for them. I'm so thankful for some very special people in my life who have been a wonderful source of support this week.

Find a way to honour your mom - it's unlikely that you'll take advantage of any of the Mother's Day gift guides or sales, but it's lovely if you can find a way to celebrate this day. It might be writing a note for her in your journal, planting flowers in her memory or even just taking some time to think about her. Rather than viewing Mother's Day as a negative, use it as an opportunity to reflect on your mother's memory

Make plans for "the day" - It can include any of the above strategies or hiding from the world altogether. I like to give myself something to look forward to on Mother's Day as it helps me to get through the week. This year I've asked someone I love very much to spend the day with me. I'm not sure what it will entail just yet, but knowing that I'm not going to have to face the day alone is a huge relief 

Last, but not least, remember that it's just a day. 

This is a big one for me to remind myself of. I've come to learn that dates hold a large significance for me, but also that I will make it through. I'm doing everything I can to be gentle with myself and employ as many of these strategies as I can while still allowing myself to feel whatever I need to feel. I'm incredibly blessed to be surrounded by the most wonderful people and look forward to getting through this tough day for another year. 

What do you do to get past days that are challenging? How do you take care of yourself?

Everything the Life is Sweet project has taught me

I wasn't sure what to expect when I announced the Life is Sweet project. I knew that I was going to produce a show to honour my mom's life and put together a month of blog posts about people's experiences with mental illness and loss. I knew that I wanted to honour my mom's memory, get people talking about mental illness and share my perspective on life. I didn't realize how much more I (and those around me) would gain from the experience. Here are some things I've learned along the way:

I have learned that given the right opportunity, nearly anyone can share their story. I have been so moved by the candor, bravery and respect that has been shown on my blog this month. I have heard from many of the guest bloggers that writing their post has changed their life and that they were grateful for the opportunity. If you haven't already, take some time to go and read their posts and share their stories. I am so indebted to them for all of their honesty and love. As a result of the show and the blog, many others that I know as well as complete strangers have opened up to me and shared how mental illness and loss has impacted their lives.  Many have asked to write next year if I decide to do the blog project again.

Curating a month of blog posts about mental illness, mental health, death, grief and many other intense subjects requires you to be an editor, confidante, friend, cheerleader and therapist. It is fulfilling, demanding and oh-so worth it.

When your very first solo show sells out ten days before the event, you will cry at your desk and then run around skipping. And squeal. A lot. And probably cry some more.

Amid songs and stories about the life and suicide of your mom, you may still make people laugh and remind them of all the good in their lives. The experience will be surreal. Enjoy every second.

I have learned that 15 years after her death, I can feel closer to my mom than I have in many years. Family members have told me the same thing. This connection is beautiful and probably something I am most thankful for.

This project has taught me that even with the dreary skies, cold days and sad feelings, February can be an okay month. It's still not my favourite, but this project made me feel happier than I have in as many Februaries as I can remember.

I've learned that after a sold out show filled with a loving, kind, beautiful audience, you may come crashing down a bit and spend a weekend feeling all the emotions you would normally feel in a whole month. This won't be easy, but with the right support system, manageable.

I have learned that those of us dealing with mental health concerns are truly not alone and how important it is to be there for those who need the extra support. A huge number of people have reached out to tell me how this project has touched them and have agreed that it is something that we need to be talking about and focusing our energies upon. This isn't a one day effort or a month long effort - it needs to be happening year round. I have gained a whole new network of people who share this belief and trust that they will help to keep the conversation going and work towards erasing the negative stigma and helping those who need it.  #letstalk

I have been reminded what incredible friends and family and supporters I have in my life. Everyone's love, kindness and generosity has been wonderful. Thank you for all that you've done to help me bring this project into fruition.

Above all else, I have confirmed that life truly is sweet.

I never doubted this fact but the show and blog posts and the support I have received from my friends, family, bloggers, Facebook friends and twitter followers has been unbelievable.  I recently fell in love with the quote "there is so much beauty that you haven't seen yet. don't give up now" And that resonated so deeply.

Sometimes we are faced with more than we think we can handle.

Persevere.
Push through.
Ask for help.

You will get through it and come out stronger on the other side.

Life is sweet in spite of the challenges that come our way and I hope that this project has been a reminder of that for you too.

All I can give you is love

There was a very special group of people at the show on Friday including a bunch of family members and friends who had the pleasure of knowing my mom. For today's Life is Sweet post I wanted to share some memories that they had shared with me about my mom as I was putting together the show and the blog series.

Due to circumstances beyond their control, my mom and her two older sisters did not grow up together and were separated for 25 years. My mom called their reunion a dream come true, something she had wished for for many years. I feel so lucky to have both of my aunts in my life and it was wonderful to have them both in the audience. My aunt Sharon sent me a story being reunited with my mom in 1993.

"Can you imagine sitting at a restaurant and seeing two woman staring at each other and hysterically laughing at each other? People probably thought we were crazy. Each time we would start a conversation, we would go again laughing and crying at the same time. It was us looking at one another after 25 years apart. It was like looking in a mirror at ourselves. We couldn't get over it."

My Aunt Sandy said that one of her favourite memories of my mom was a weekend in 1997 when my mom and Aunt Sharon went to visit Sandy in Quebec. She said they laughed from the time my mom arrived until she left. Sadly it was the last time she saw my mom.

One of my favourite pictures of my mom and I was taken at her friend Brenda's wedding where my mom was the maid of honour.

my mom and I at Brenda's wedding

My mom and Brenda were friends since they were kids, and it was so special to have her at the show on Friday

"I remember the first time I saw sadness in your mom, we were still teenagers. She hadn't gone to school for a few days and when I called her she wouldn't come to the phone, so I finally just knocked on her door, your grandmother let me in. Your mom had her wrist all wrapped up. 

It didn't jump out at me like you think it should have, it was her sadness that jumped out more. She was numb. She told me she cut herself in a attempt to take her own life. Why, a thousand times over... WHY? She said pain and hate; it choked her. I never understood; she was so popular, had lots of friends, always seemed happy to me - what was I missing????? Until that day I didn't know things were not the way they appeared.

I have learned though your Mom's death that sickness doesn't always show itself, that depression is isolating. I knew she had an illness, but I never really saw it... I saw my friend Debbie Gibson... beautiful inside and out"

Brenda & I 

At the show I shared a story about my mom that my friend Tamara had sent. Tamara and I were inseparable in the seventh grade and my mom loved her like a second daughter. 

"I remember the day we went to Gerrard Square and you bought that greyish blue long skirt for our upcoming dance. When we got home you tried it on for your mom and we talked about the boys we were into at the time. Your mom just sat and talked with us, she was attentive and smiling.

I love that she was always supportive. I don't ever remember her saying anything negative to you or hurtful. Her words were always warm and loving. She completely accepted me like her own and I always felt welcome around her. It always felt easy talking to her, especially about boys"

I told this story at the show, because on the day I bought that skirt I also bought the first Spice Girls album (which became the soundtrack of my life for the seventh grade) I talked about seeing the Spice Girls in concert a few years ago and how fascinating it was to see how the meaning of the songs had changed for them, especially Mama. That song has also taken on a very different meaning for me and I was very happy to include it in the show.

I can't believe it's been 15 years that she's been gone. I've felt closer to her this month than I have in a long time and I'm so thankful for that.