“I’ve looked at life from both sides now,
“Both Sides Now” by Joni Mitchell
From win and lose and still somehow,
It’s life’s illusions I recall,
I really don’t know life at all.”
Before we dive in, let’s take a look at some of the twists, turns and tough truths that brought me to where I am today, shall we?
Warning: The following content includes expressions of disdain and disgust. Reader discretion is advised.
Sentimental starts.
Every spring, when the musky scent of the poplar tree buds fills the air, I am immediately transported to my first childhood home, nestled in the quaint neighbourhood known as The Coves, just southwest of the city’s bustling core. I am warmed by a profound sense of nostalgia as the sun’s rays flicker through the canopy of trees and cast dappled shadows on the tree-lined sidewalk outside our charming red brick bungalow at 10 Elmwood Place—a stone’s throw from my mother’s former family homestead. In that moment, I am wrapped in the innocence of childhood where my mind is free from the shadows of worry as the joyful laughter of my cousins carries me toward my aunt’s house—away from the (apparent) chaos at home.
My mother was a woman of remarkable qualities: beautiful, brave, funny, smart, loving, tenacious, kind, strong, fearless, flawed, cool, and industrious.
But my bio-dad was a gambling addict, a criminal, an abusive dick, and a cheat who also owned a black dune buggy … or maybe closer to eggplant.
So she left him. Eventually.
Despite her belief that they could overcome their challenges, trust—the cornerstone of any healthy relationship—had long since vanished in my parents’ marriage, replaced by suspicion, paranoia, and drama. While I was shielded from the harsh reality of their unhealthy dynamic, I learned later that the truth of his deceit had been thrust upon my mother when she received a phone call from the “other woman” while hosting a gathering at our house. Her mind reeling with shock, anger and betrayal, she stormed to the bedroom upstairs without a word, flung open the window and tossed his belongings out to the yard as her guests watched in stunned silence.
Whiffs of change.
As a child, such complexities of life were filtered through the comforting presence of my beloved blue bunny. With its soft, plushy body, over-sized ears and lanky, long limbs always within reach, it provided emotional support and companionship that I never knew I needed. Each spring, as the musky scent of nostalgia envelopes me, I am transported back not only to my childhood home and the comfort of my blue bunny but also to the moment my mother made the courageous decision to leave it. This aroma magically unlocks layers of history and emotion, connecting me to the pivotal moment when my mother stood poised on the threshold of a new beginning that defined our family’s collective experience. It holds the key to a world that shaped my family and our journey towards dignity, personal agency, hope, and self-love.