This morning as i was walking out to my car i noticed something.

Something so fantastic.

Crocus flowers. Purple and yellow alongside the hundreds of snowdrops that have blossomed. Spring is coming.

For me the year really has two seasons; happy and sad.

Those flowers? They mean that sad is almost over.

And yes i am weaning myself off effexor. And yes i feel good about it. And no i have not talked to my doctor or a psychiatrist. But if you know anything about me by now, you know that i stick my tongue out to that.

Today i spent four hours doing cartwheels, bouncing on trampolines and doing triple holds on zip lines. It was exhilarating. It was fun. My children and i squealed with joy until the sun went down.

Exhausted after five straight hours of play i tucked them into bed. They fell asleep within minutes. I hovered for a few moments. Kissing every face. Feeling fresh and alive. Feeling the glow, the energy of youth wash over me. The joy of my children.

The perfect day.

Hello spring.

May you bring up fresh hope for me.

******************************************************

EDITED TO ADD

I need you. Please say hello.

And oh my god cats stink the stinkiest farts ever.

EVER!!!

And thank-you to my friends who tolerate my drunken gate knocks.

I Lub you

To my dear friend who kissed my forehead - i am sorry for my gratuitous use of commas.

And my spelling mistakes.

I try my best to be everything for you. For everybody.

But i am not at my best. And no internet, i don't want your advice. Unless i ask for it.

I know you may be tired of me. Me and my sad ways. I am trying so hard.

I am trying so hard.

I can wake up four children at 7:45, feed them, clothe them, make lunches, shower, dress (with make-up) and have them at school by 8:30.

I can send four children to bed giggling.

I have four children who love me.

I am their biggest fan.

I spend my days making sure that life is easier for them.

That is my best.

They are my best.

Today i am a superhero.

Thank-you to my friend who sent me this necklace. It is perfect.

Parker woke up this morning, snuggled between shane and i, kissed my forehead and said:

"I love you"

"I am too tired to fart."

Three year olds. They kill me.

I am feeling like i have no home. Like my heart has no home. I have lost it. I have lost my heart that beat happiness and joy through me.

For awhile i found happiness. For a short while i was happy. The thing that made me happy has gone.

I feel lost.

I wander through my days.

When i am with my children. When i am at the school doing cartwheels at recess. When i am playing catch on steep grassy hills with my kids and their friends i feel alive. I feel happy.

It's the moments in between. The nights. The hours while some are at school and parker and eliza and i try and fill our time. I am aimless. Lifeless. I have nothing anymore.

Shane tries so hard. He tries hard. He works hard. He has visions of wealth and happiness.

I have visions of a man who kisses my head when it aches. Who takes the time to just hold me. Who thinks i am everything good. Who understands that sometimes just sitting. Just smiling. Means more than a million nights side-by-side on the couch watching tv. That a tender touch on the cheek. That the small things bring my heart back to me.

I want my heart back.

• I have been feeling a little low, a little confused.

• I have walking pneumonia. Whatever. I don't feel much like walking.

• I have been weaning myself off effexor. slowly.

• I have been feeling good about that.

• I have a feeling the timing is not so great given recent events.

• I have lost five pounds. Summers coming don't you know.

• I have been following a friends coffee diet. Coffee for breakfast. Coffee for lunch. And, in a pinch, coffee can be dinner.

• I have been needing a friend who isn't available.

I saw dead people. And they suck.

I have never been to an open casket funeral. That was the thing that first broke off a piece of my heart today and smashed it on the floor.

I went alone to the funeral, after at least an hour of outfit changes, which was strangely important to me. What would he want me to wear? I can't wear a retro dress with modern shoes. That would offend his thiftshop sensibilities. In the end i chose the perfect outfit. One that he would have been proud of.

Today was such a profound, life-changing day for me i don't think i can put it in words. But i need to try.

It is different going to a funeral for someone who killed themselves. Different for me.

There was lots of talk in eulogies of people being happy that he had ended his torment, that he had found a cure for the buzzing in his head. I listened to these people, breaking down in tears, grown men reduced to empty hearted vessels before their friend laying lifeless in a coffin. I cried so many tears. Tears for Jeremy, tears for my friends and the pain he had caused them, tears for myself - knowing that at so many points in time it could have been me up there in that wooden box. Tears of anger. I wanted to stand up and yell that it was not okay. He had not found a way to end his pain. He had ended his life. His pain is gone, but so are the fourty years of happiness he could have had in between. The children, the nieces, the friends, the unknown.

And there we all were. Insignificant. Sad and crying. It doesn't matter if it was 200 or 2,000 people. It is a tragedy. A life lost. A life he let go. And it makes me mad. It makes me jealous.

I have wanted to let go. Many times. And the fact that he did makes me not just sad, but envious. He didn't fight the fight.

He didn't tell everybody that it was possible. Beauty. In the midst of sadness. He let go of okay.

If he let's go, if we all let go. What is left. There is no beauty. There is no beauty without pain. No joy without sadness. No love without loss.

And here i am. On the cusp of spring. Listening to the frogs outside. Driving down the malahat through snow to a bright and sunny victoria day. And here i am. And i feel like this is all fucked up. My heart torn out and smashed on the ground in the most beautiful church on vancouver island just at that moment when i thought life could get better.

I saw dead people.

On my way to soccer on saturday i got a call from an old friend. When i left victoria i lost contact with most of my friends, but it never really bothered me. We would speak once or twice a year and it was always nice and comfortable. They were and are the kind of friends that always remain a part of your life. The memories of time spent more ingrained than distance between conversations.

The same way it can feel when you speak with your best friend from elementary school after not talking for decades. Time just sort of melts away. There is still that sense of family, that sense of love.

My friend called to tell me that my friend Jeremy had killed himself. He said it casually, apologizing. There's no easy way to say something like that. I appreciated the brevity. We spoke for a few moments. He told me about the service on tuesday at Alix Goolden Hall in Victoria.

I hadn't spoken to Jeremy in several years. But i will never forget him and he is someone i think of often.

In 1995 after i was married, before i was pregnant, after my nervous breakdown and suicide attempts i was going through a small rough patch. More a fear that it would never get better for me. Wondering how i could ever be a good wife.

Jeremy was a doorman, well more than that - him and my two other best friends in the world at the time were local promoters in victoria - and i was at a show. I think it was some early incarnation of Hot Hot Heat. Anyway, the bar was quiet and i was there alone and feeling sad. After the bar closed Jeremy and i sat talking for hours. I poured out my heart and soul to him. I told him all the things i hadn't told anyone. How scared i was of life.

He listened. He offered me the best advice i've ever had. He understood everything i said. He had spent a lifetime of ups and downs.

We ended up driving around through the sunrise and i dropped him off in the dawn hours and he made me promise him that i would always be okay. I told him i would. He said sometimes okay is enough.

I am sad that he forgot that, or that he lost okay.

I've been thinking about when i was in miami in the fall.

Those are my birthday toes, complete with blogher blue nailpolish still on them. I really must pay more detail to personal grooming.

I have been very sick with the flu, general malaise. For the first time i can ever remember i have been able to sleep at the drop of a hat.

Sesame Street? Sleep time.

Big kids home to babysit? sleep time.

The moment i see shane's headlights in the driveway? sleep time.

I have been to bed before the kids twice this week. I slept from 4 till 9 tonight and i am ready to go back to bed.

I have listened in absolute jealousy as other grown-ups have come down with the plague-like flu taking over our school and have gone to bed for days on end. Yet, i have had to forge on, taking care of sick kids.

And i miss miami where i could sleep to my will's content.

This weekend is a weekend for sleeping.

Have a nice one. See you monday.

As is the way this time of year we have been fighting a particularly brutal stomach flu which turns into the hacking chest/sinus flu lasting two weeks. It has gone through tristan, parker, eliza, me, shane and now toby.

I went to bed at 7pm last night which, if you know me, is totally unusual. I was feeling crappy about feeling crappy.

At 10pm toby woke up crying that his tummy hurt. I brought him into my room whereupon he began an all night march which involved running to the bathroom every hour, crouching in front of the toilet for a few minutes, then returning to bed. Stomach still hurting. No relief.

Finally, at 7am just as i was standing naked about to get in the shower he came running in declaring "this is it mom!" and released the largest and most anticipated barf right into the toilet.

Then he marched downstairs, sat on the sofa and declared a sick day.

Poor boy.

I woke up this morning in a fog, thinking did i really write that last night? Are things really getting better for me?

And i looked at the clock. 7:47am. Shane? Gone. School starting in 33 minutes. Must feed four kids breakfast, make four lunches, makes sure all clothed and teeth brushed (screw the hair). Most important, and before any of that, must have coffee.

Close eyes for a moment.

Yes! I really wrote that and this doesn't stress me out at all. Who cares if we are a little late. Why not let the kids pack their lunches while i shower? Brilliant.

And so those 33 minutes passed peacefully, everybody helping or watching tv quietly and we were backing out of the driveway at 8:31. Arrived at school five minutes late. Happily.

Kisses and hugs for all.

Now, i'm not saying that things have changed overnight. I have struggled long and hard to come to a place where i even felt a tiny bit happy and okay in this world. Where i could force myself to smile inwardly, all the while hating myself for making this beautiful life so difficult.

And things will still be tough.

I have many burdens on my back, bad habits and old habits that i fall back on. I haven't really eaten for several days. The clonazepam does that to me. I haven't really noticed yet because i am using up my winter stores first.

But. But! It is valentines tomorrow and my marriage may be up and down and rocky, but i can tell you that i am deeply in love. And happy to have him.

I think i have magically stumbled upon the magical cocktail of drugs.

When i was at the doctor last week i asked her for more clonazepam. She hummed and hawed, said it was normally not given out after so many months on effexor but she would give me 40 to last six months.

When i went to the pharmacy i got 90 with two refills. I have been taking one in the morning and one at night. Now judge me however you feel. But, i have been sleeping really well. I have been calm and happy during the days. I have done laundry, kept the house clean and gone on adventures with my kids.

I have even been able to give parker a little bit of tough love which is paying off.

Things are going well. I am enjoying my children. Marvelling at how much they have grown in these five months i have been asleep at the wheel.

My god. How did i do this? How did i create such fabulous, dynamic creatures. They are beautiful, wanting of nothing, but love and fun. They are smart and creative. They are drawn to me like velcro, yet happily entertain themselves for an hour while i have a nap.

I am being restored. I can feel it.

My instinct is to use up this clonazepam to wean myself off of effexor. I'm really scared of it's side-effects. I like to abuse my liver with red wine, not synthetic drugs. I like not being anxious all the time, but i still have panic attacks which are supposed to be gone at the dosage i am on. I don't want to try other drugs. I've tried all the old school ones and now i've tried effexor.

I just don't know.

A question i will ponder over the next while, while i just let myself feel human.

xxoo
jess

Hello world.

Seeking

One blogger type person very familiar with Movable Type to redesign my site to my very anal expectations. Also provide ongoing technical support.

Must like pretty things.

No caricatures.

Knowledge of feedburner, audioscrobbler, ad content and general geekiness. Bring it on.

Willing to negotiate a fare wage or an exchange of children and/or dogs for service.

Respond here.

**UPDATE**

My blog is totally going to kick your blogs ass!

My old and very dear friend, whom i once had a huge crush on, is going to work on it for me. In between his time doing websites (UK) for Coldplay.

I feel very happy.

Have you ever lusted over the smell of someone. That perfect lover whose smell is permanently etched in your memory.

When you do their laundry you smell each article of clothing trying to hold that smell, that perfect smell, forever in your senses for fear that you will never smell them again?

Borrowed clothes or hand-me-downs may come along bathed in that same smell, that same mysterious laundry detergent, and it brings you right back to that perfect person.

I often hear of people who won't give up dirty clothes of loved ones who have died because they hold that magic smell.

For me the smell of someone, not the cologne they wear or the soap they use, but their smell - the sweat and the work and the life that their body exudes is an absolute and often painful reminder of who they are.

I suppose this can work the other way to. Many people loathe the smell of hospitals because they relate the smell to sickness, ill-health and often death. For me, still living in innocence, the smell of hospitals reminds me of life. New life. Everytime i smell something that's come from hospital laundry it reminds me of the precious first days i had with all my children. Those small moments of total stillness and peace. First breaths, first cry, first nursing, first baths. With every baby a few days alone, just me and them. Celebrating the new life that came from me. I immerse myself in that smell whenever i am near it and a flood of memories comes back.

Shane likes to wear a smelly deodorant, old spice i think, because the smell reminds him of his father. I always like the days when he forgets to put it on. I like that smell of him. And i do stop, sometimes, when i am doing his laundry and bury my face in his shirt and soak in his smell, hoping that it stays with me forever.

The biggest problem with living in a small community is that everybody knows everybody else. Even if you don't know someone's name you know that when you see them at the pub they are one of the cashiers at your local grocery store.

Or when you take your kids to a birthday party, there's your doctor with her kids. You smile and you pretend that neither of you actually knows that you are suffering from a debilitating depression and just came into her office begging for mercy. Or new drugs. Or something. Some kind of help.

And maybe your doctor also has four kids. And there aren't that many families around with four kids. So you have that in common. So she understands that this life is hectic. She understands in some small way why you need a little chemical help.

And so you go in there fully expecting that you are going to give up drugs forever. That you are ready. That the pain you have experienced since starting to take medication has been as intense, or more so, than any mental anguish you have ever felt. That despite the horror stories of withdrawal it has to be better than what you are experiencing now.

And then you walk in. And you realize that, maybe, just maybe things aren't all that bad. That the past few days have been pretty good. That trying to make things better has actually helped. Playing with the kids at school has been exhilarating. Playing capture the potato, tag, skipping rope, building endless sandcastles and general energy busting fun. Racing until you are doubled over trying to catch your breath is one of the best kinds of therapy.

And so you don't ask. You refill your prescriptions for the next six months. Walk out clutching your paper bag, hoping for the best. Looking forward.

Parker spilled water on my keyboard. It has been rendered useless, unless you count no spacebar as useful.

My laptop, bought on ebay and smelling of body odour, is also dead. I am working to remedy these problems. But, for now i am stuck sneaking into the school late at night to post.

I have been working hard to fix everything that is wrong with my life, at least those things i have control over.

I have been working hard at giving boundaries to parker. Negative behaviour = negative consequences. And, gosh darn it, i will follow through.

I have a docotor's appointment tomorrow and i am going off effexor. I am, more or less, as unhappy or moreso than i was a year ago and all i have to show for it is a damaged liver. Screw you effexor. That's all i have to say about that.

I have been spending the majority of my days at the school in an effort to make sure that toby is as happy as toby can be. He has suffered some bullyish type behaviour and i just won't stand for that.

My head has felt like it is going to explode because i haven't been able to metabolize that damn effexor for several days - screw you IBS too. The effects of withdrawal from this drug are so harsh that i wish i had never started taking it in the first place.

I have patched things up with my husband. The only one that stands by me through everything. I have spent many moments on my knees thinking of the words to write that could sum up my gratitude for having him in my life. He is grateful for me though, of that i can be sure. And yes, i mean on my knees in the dirty way.

I am working to make my life better. I am looking forwards to the spring. My yard is full of life about to bloom and snowdrops promising the spring to come.

I have made it through, almost, another winter.

Maybe it's the day. Maybe it's the irritable bowel i have been fighting which has led to my effexor not really working at all because i just can't keep it in my body long enough. But this comment:

Ok, Jess, I've wanted to say this for a while. You have all this amazing support from your readers, but who challenges you? Who says, "Why do you find ways to blame yourself for doing natural things, for example, pulling away from someone who BIT you?" I see you as this amazing person and mom who just LOOKS for ways to cause herself pain and blame herself for everything. I'm probably not telling you something you don't already know, but life is life and its not all your fault. When you act like it is, you become a victim to yourself and all the random things that happen in our life. Its hard to read you blaming yourself and experiencing the resulting depression, etc. when its just life - shit happens, kids bite, you pull back and their tooth breaks. You didn't do anything wrong, but it seems like you are always seeking some way to feel bad and/or be the victim. I hope someday you can stop doing that. You are teaching your kids these lessons every day, even if you think you're not showing this side of yourself to them. Its ok if you don't want to hear this or want to block my comments. Support comes in different disguises.

That comment spoke to me. A kick in the ass. I need a kick in the ass. I've been wallowing way too long.

Although i don't necessarily agree with all of it, there are points, suggestions, things which i hadn't thought of that way. I think part of the problem is that what you see here is only part of the equation. There is so much more to my life; things i can't or won't share.

It's not that the whole bite thing was so bad, these things are often the "toppers"; that little moment that turns that day or that week into another hard week. And the things that tip the scale become lighter as time goes by and my emotional well-being becomes more fragile.

I will be fine. I am fine. I really appreciate this comment. And i think it's probably accurate.

Are you bored of me yet? I am getting bored of me. Judging from the ups and downs of my subscribers you all are getting bored of me too.

But ha-ha! I am still struggling. Not through with all of this yet.

I had an exciting phone call tonight. A call which requires me being out in the evening (again) writing some kind of proposal. So elusive. It's not really worth spilling about here.

I enjoyed writing the minutia of my day yesterday. Amazed at how the day just kept going and going with barely a moment to relax.

I feel like i'm driving without a license. I don't know what i am doing, where i am going or how to parallel park when i want to stop and smell the flowers. Life is just a continuing round of new jobs/chores/activities every ten minutes. I'm sure if i went to bed when the commotion of the day stopped i would be a little happier. Not left to sit and ponder. But then i wouldn't see the beautiful moon that is happening.

Tomorrow i am going skating on a pond in a friends yard in the midnight full moon glow.