Today is one of those days when, despite the almost-debilitating anxiety that now plagues me daily and the growing feeling of powerlessness that often leaves me nearly bursting into tears in the middle of the bakery...today is one of those days when I realize how lucky I am, to have such a beautiful, joyous little girl and a gorgeous kitty.

Elvis's purrs were as loud as a motorcycle today, as she settled into my arms while I was lying on the bed. Lilo was settling herself on her pink mini-chair in front of the TV. And despite being broke, sad about not seeing Lilo as , living in yet another over-priced priced apartment, having to take on an extra two hours of work a day (I'm going to have to work 11 hours a day now in order to make ends meet since her father's never paid child support) and feeling extremely pathetic in the romantic department (I think I'm at the part of my grieving process where I CAN'T BELIEVE I EVER GOT INVOLVED WITH SUCH A NASTY HUMAN BEING) my car is finally fixed, my new place has hardwood floors, I live right by Kensington so I can finally attend the Critical Mass rides this summer and I finished building a garden I'm extremely proud of (I should take some pictures of it...)I'm, I guess I am fortunate, lucky, blessed.

Job, healthy child, comforting cat. This is the fate of the single mom.

Now, perhaps you can understand my frustration with not being able to find my masturbation kit. Le sigh.

Ever since I became a mother I've been struggling with the socially-imposed dichotomy of my two feminine selves: the 'sexual' being and the 'mother' being. Funny...cause fucking is what gets folks in this mess in the first place. And I would think, being as outspoken as I am, that I would have no shame in continuing to revere my sexuality but lately I've become aware of this deeply, buried guilt about...I guess acknowledging the fact that I HAVE SEXUAL NEEDS and they are not being fulfilled right now.

Fuck it. Society, quote unquote social mores dictate that as a mother, I lose all those aspects that made me a sexual being. Some would say that's what the weight gain factor is all about: a complete lack of acknowledgment of our sexuality. Mother suddenly becomes sterile...and this is of course a by-product of life in this male-ruled society, under this son-of-a-fuck patriarchy we've been living under ever since man decided the only way to subjugate another is to create this alter-ego (GOD) and use it to oppress thousands and brainwash thousands more into complete obedience, complete fucking sheepdom...and I'm not fucking interested in taking part of that...nor am I interested in denying that part of my self that burns and hungers constantly.

That being said, there's no fucking reason why anyone should deny themselves either sides (maternal and sexual): both are beautiful. Discord comes in the form of men trying to separate those two...to take the power away from the feminine. Makes them not have to deal with their Oedipus complex (what a bunch of fucking sissies).

Since my lovely little stay in the Veggie house, when I was sixteen, I have been acting upon a decision that I made, while I was mute, unable to speak: I decided that never again would I attempt to be someone that I am not. Never would I censor myself, or keep quiet while abuses were heaped on me. I found myself indulging in the idea of being completely open and upfront about everything. To everyone. No secrets here. Just me, trying to live my life...phew!

That decision is what gave me the courage to finish those last six months of high school and leave the US.

The promise of a future far far away from the dogmatic blanket I was being suffocated under...was enough to give me the strength to get the fuck out of there but look at the shit-fest I landed back in...I was trying to follow my heart and be true to my feelings at all times. Got me in trouble! Now I can't help but question my willfulness, even though it feels like the only thing really keeping me alive.

'So perhaps subjugation and reservations are perhaps not a bad thing', a little voice whispers in my ears and I have to ask myself 'what do I do next?' How do I pick up the pieces of my life?

I don't know how to categorize the failure of my...whatever I had with Lilo's father. What originally felt like the love of my life is now...a disgusting mess.

Lately I wonder if I'm just going to let the angst, depression and sadness take me over...I'm afraid I won't move forward. I've been thinking a lot about leaving Calgary and finding a place with cheap rent, where folks are closer to the earth...but are not crazy amish-types.

It's also very exhausting, trying to be honest with everyone all the time.

Combine all the existential shit mentioned above, mix that with a stressful schedule, no love interest in the horizon and you've got an extremely dissatisfied, torn me.

I don't even get to be a mother anymore! Thanks to our money obsessed society (and financial abuse culture) MOST OF MY TIME IS SPENT TRYING TO MAKE MONEY FOR LILO AND I TO SURVIVE!

My mothering time: twenty five percent of my week.

Sixty five percent of my time is spent walking in her absent father's shoes, building things for her, making money just to get us to the next month, ten percent I sleep...the rest of the time...wait there is no time left.

Week starts all over again.

Am I complaining?
Yes.
She will be taken care of.

I'm the only one that gives a shit, out of the two parents nature assigned her. And no sacrifice is too much for my little girl. Even...even the one that leaves me permanently frustrated.

I wonder what it would feel like after five years without coitus. Oh I would be masturbating furiously, but I'm sure soon enough (or 50 pounds from now) sex would have to become this inaccessible activity I would like to partake in (and something I see people do on the screen, quite often) but I would be too fat/too unattractive/emotionally scarred to ever experience it again.

This is what I get for following my heart. This is what I get for falling in love. This is what I get for being too much of a giving idiot. I get Lilo. I get to help construct her life. It's...my life now.

I think the masochist in me is making me smile.

You know what part I actually can't wait for? The one where Mitch completely becomes a non-issue. The dead-beat in the background. The one still living his life telling himself everyday he's not a bad person for what he did to Lilo and I. I can't wait for the part where a whole year goes by and I haven't heard from him, or dealt with his nasty.

Now that would put a real smile on my face.