grumblins

“There are times in life when people must know when not to let go. Balloons are designed to teach small children this.” 

― Terry Pratchett

i like to make up words, and to use made up words. for example, "grosh" means grumpy and irritable. "skress" is when you are frustrated and stressed out. "frazzle razzle dazzle" is my way of swearing around little ears. 

and then there is the grumblins. 

grumblins are when you hold on to things from the past that are long past time to let go of. 

“The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward.” ― Steve Maraboli

i am thinking about my grumblins today because a political figure, whom i plan to vote for, was my first bully. i was 5. he was 7. but it's hard to let go of that. 

i still remember the mean things that he did to me when i was 5. i remember the teasing when i was 9. and yet, he is an excellent politician who has made a difference in our community ... but every time i see his face on a poster or a lawn sign, i think about the time he asked me to rate the breasts of all the girls in the school (it was a teeny tiny school). 

“Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your destiny.” ― Steve Maraboli

so what purpose does it serve to hang on so tightly to my grumblins? why do i remember every tiny injustice done to me? like when B&M stole my stickers when i was 8? or when J pinched me under the table with his toes when i was 6? or when A said "you know you have to dance at this rehearsal right?" when i was 14. 

the grumblins often weigh me down. 

so i turn to you ... what's your advice on how to get rid of the grumblins? what's your advice on how to choose what to hold onto and what is a balloon that needs to be let go of?

i eagerly await your responses. and if you are reading this by email, feel free to visit the website and leave your comment there. www.aprilgigiangels.blogspot.com

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

an open letter to libby oughton

dear libby, 

you probably don't remember me. 

i wouldn't have had the same impact on your life as you had on mine. 

my name is april and i interviewed you through email about 15 years ago for a paper that i was writing for a feminist literature class in university. we stayed in touch a bit after that. and then when i was in grad school, you were in town and we met for coffee at the second cup. 

it was both the most exciting day of my life, as well as the most humiliating. 

the kinder you were to me, the more miserable and negative back to you i was. 

and i have wanted, for the last 13 years, to apologize and to explain. but i never really knew how. 

i was severely depressed when i was living in halifax. i was lonely, and sad, and homesick. i couldn't seem to break my way into any community. i had no sense of belonging. 

i was lost. 

i spent my nights reading in bed and slept as much of the day as possible. reading would transport me into another world where i could escape the reality of my predicament. 

i had been accepted into a master's program in women's studies. i applied with the clearly laid out proposal that my research was in feminist lesbian geography. and i was accepted into the program based on that research. only i moved myself across the country and upon arrival on the very first day of classes i was told that there was no professor that had accepted me into their program who did any type of feminist geography nor lesbian geography, nor lesbian studies. 

which meant i had no adviser, no mentor, and no one to guide me in my research. add to that, a really mean roommate who treated me very badly, the fact that i was really sick, and had no friends .... it made for a lousy year and really lousy timing in meeting you. 

it is no excuse for how negative i was when we met. and yet it is an explanation for the terrible space that i was in. 

and as i navigate my way through the regrets of things that i did, or things that i didn't do, you and that meeting in the second cup are at the top of my list. 

your book made it's way to me because the universe wanted me to have it. it found me at a time in my life when i was discovering who i was (i am still discovering that) and the words spoke to me. the words were alive on the page. i carried that book with me ... ALL THE TIME AND EVERYWHERE. i wrote my own poetry all over the pages. the pages are worn and soft now. and i still read it. your words, meshed with mine. this morning, i sat and read your poetry. and once again i was filled with the joy of words. 

and the universe gave me the opportunity to meet you. to connect with you. to form a friendship forged in our mutual love of words, of feminism, of activism. and i was a sad little brat who spent the entire time complaining instead of learning from you. 

and i regret it every day. 

i hope that you can forgive my youth. i hope you can forgive that wasted opportunity. 

and i hope that this letter finds its way to you and finds you well. and that you will receive this letter with my love and affection. 

if it is meant to be, the universe will get this letter to you. 

with deepest regards, 

xoxo

...