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Love, not war

As I sit here, trying to figure out how to describe how I feel about all the craziness that has been going on on Facebook and other social media for the past week, I’m overcome with a sense of sadness. A sense of sadness towards those innocent lives that have been lost, those innocent lives who have been trying to flee their homes because they’ve been through hell due to the wars in their countries, those who have lost loved ones because of other people’s senseless and destructive acts. There has been too many bombings, attacks and killings lately. Too many people pointing fingers and blaming one specific religion, grouping everyone into the same group. That all Muslim people are “terrorists”. Mainstream media and other groups have been instilling fear into people who aren’t aware, who aren’t educated in the subject of that religion. The more fear is instilled in the general public (aka you and I), the more the group doing this wins. The more hatred they see, they win again. We can’t show them that, they want hate, they want war. I’ve seen a few videos on Facebook over the past couple of days that shows exactly that. It shows that we cannot show fear or hatred. That we have to stand up, united and go upon our daily lives. That we still need to be trusting of others since not everyone is a terrorist.

If only all fathers were like this one. ❤

12243403_10156247857950581_4405667613859825433_n As sad as what happened last Friday in Paris, don’t just “pray” for Paris, but hope for peace for Syria, for Beirut, for Iraq and all the other places where innocent people have lost their lives because of this “war”, these inexcusable acts of terrorism. What you and I can do is be nice to everyone, don’t accept xenophobic comments on your social media, accept and care for those who aren’t the same race, religion, culture or whatever than you. Learn about the Muslims, learn their values, their religion, don’t just go and dump them into that “terrorist” group just because they’re different.

I hope that one day, for our future generations, they won’t have to live in fear, that they can still live in a free country and have all the rights that  we, here in Canada have. After all, all we want is love, not war right?

#BellLetsTalk

Today is Bell’s #BellLetsTalk. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s a campaign to hopefully end the stigma of mental illness. Something that has been, for years, something that has been “swept under the rug” and pushed to the back burner. Something that people are ashamed or afraid to talk about because they could be labeled as “crazy” or “psycho”. Meanwhile, they’re very likely just scared and they don’t want to be known in society as those labels.

I have personal experience with mental illness, with family, friends and even myself. I’ve never wanted to talk about it to people, in fear of being called one of those labels I mentioned before, but my close friends and family know about my bouts of anxiety. You always try to look tough on the outside but eventually you do break down and that is okay. Cry, scream, yell, punch a pillow (or something soft), talk to someone, write it out, but let it out in some way or form.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to write this post, I’d type a few words and then delete it, that subconscious anxiety voice of mine tells me “its not good enough, nobody will like what you’ve written.” Its really hard to write or talk about something that is so hard to explain. With me, my brain is in overdrive most of the time. Jumbled with words that are moving, what feels like, a million miles an hour and they don’t want to seem to slow down so I can decipher anything. I have so many thoughts that I want to get out, but sometimes honestly have no clue how because of that “inner-voice” that tells me that nobody wants to hear it. That nobody cares or that I’m wasting my time.

I’ve been told I’m shy, well, here’s the main reason for it. Anxiety can be a bitch and I’m usually second guessing everything that I want to say or that I’ve said. Fighting with that inner voice as I said before. Worrying about what the future holds because of my past mistakes.

anxiety1I’ve been dealing with anxiety issues since I was about 12 years old. For about 3 years, I had thought so many times how I could run away because of certain people in my life at the time; then I eventually did, I switched to a different school where I had friends, wasn’t bullied because of the way I looked and acted. When they say “kids can be cruel”, I totally agree. It’s really surprising what a few words can do to a person’s self-esteem. For a bunch of years after graduating, I had, what I thought was a good grasp on my anxiety. I had met a lot of people who were in the same boat as I was. Bullied in school, was considered the “out-cast” and the “weird one” etc. Then a few years back, due to reasons I won’t get into in my blog, the anxiety sky-rocketed again, just as bad as it was, if not worse than it was when I was 12. One again, I wanted so bad to run away, but I fought through it and found another group of friends who know the issues and I know they still care. As much as my brain doesn’t believe it at times. I’m not saying that I’m completely overridden with anxiety, and that’s because I’ve been doing my best to have a grasp on it again. But I do have a ways to go before its gone, if it ever will be.

I’ve had friends commit suicide and if that is something that has been a thought, please call the Manitoba Suicide Line at 1-877-435-7170 or visit http://www.reasontolive.ca/ or your local suicide prevention help line.

Always remember, you’re not alone. There are more like you out there and no matter what people might say, people do love you. Lets end the stigma of mental illnesses, no matter what they are.

wish_i_wasnt_everybody_has_a_brain

Kids say the darndest things

Little kids make me laugh. I’m surrounded by them on a daily basis now, and honestly some things that they say make me raise an eyebrow, and wonder “wtf? where did that come from?” I know their imaginations are in overdrive at that age, they run wild and free. There are some days I wonder what’s going on in their minds when they sit there and laugh for absolutely no reason. For whatever reason, they’re drawn to me, like a magnet.

I, years ago, worked in a daycare. I remember it was one of the breaks (either spring or summer) and so we were doing “theme days”. The day I’m thinking of in particular was a science day, geared towards pre-school kids, and one of the experiments was buoyancy. We got the kids to make little ships with egg cartons, and a sail. I put water in the kiddie pool and we were off! The kids pushed their little “boats” around the pool (ocean), laughing and smiling. One of my coworkers decided to throw a wrench into their ocean by dumping handfuls of ice cubes (icebergs) into it. One of the boys (he was 3 at the time), nudged his boat along and it hit one of the icebergs… and naturally, toppled over. What he said next was what surprised everyone. He looked up and exclaims, “That was like the Titanic!” Curious of his answer, I looked at him and asked him “what happened with the Titanic?” As he was fixing his boat, he said, “well… it was a big boat that hit an ice cube! Wait, I mean an iceberg! And then it sank, like my boat.” I’m guessing his parents taught him about it, but it really surprised us.

Another instance is when I woke up one morning with a popped blood vessel in my eye, it was completely bloodshot in the inner corner, it was really gross to look at. I had to go to work at the daycare that morning, and well, of course that’s the first thing the kids notice. Some of the kids asked me why I had “poked myself in the eye so hard to make it bleed”. hahaha.

The first year I worked in an elementary school, one day my student was away so I was just helping out in the class (32 kids, and 5 adults in the room at all times, it was pretty busy!). I was working with a boy who has FAS and we were working on ELA. The kid was trying his best to remember my name, so we went through the alphabet. I started saying the letters and when I got to the letter F, he looked at me with bright eyes and goes, “your last name is Fish! That’s it!” (it’s not) – For the rest of the year, he only called me “Ms. Fish”, he couldn’t remember what my real last name was, but to him, and only him, I was Ms. Fish.

I’ve had some of the younger grade kids come running up to me at school already and either pull on the sleeve of my shirt and tell me something that I’m supposed to know about already, or give me a hug and tell me that they’ve missed me, it’s insanely cute. Considering they’ve only known me for a couple of weeks.

I’m definitely looking forward to the day I have kids. They’re always entertaining.

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