Being your own worst critic

I had friends as a child, but not many. I felt different. Maybe it was the colour of my skin, the fact I was adopted into my family with my Mother, possibly it was because I had to put on a brave face knowing that being touched was not normal. I screamed out for attention, for someone to stop it, for someone to take me away. I felt different and I didn’t like it.

Into my teen years I wasn’t the popular kid but my personality wanted that popularity. I remember going to school in grade 7 or 8 wearing a bra and another girl pointing to me and saying “why are you wearing that? You don’t need it” the thing is I did. I didn’t want my small bust to be seen. I didn’t want to be different. I wanted to be beautiful. I had enough of school and trying to fit in, so I dropped out at 14 and no one cared.

I started to find people that thought I was cool. High school drop outs, drinkers and drug users, drug dealers and people much older than me. I found my place, or so I thought, in a world of dysfunctional people. By 15 I was having sex with anyone who I thought was the one and who could possibly be the person to save me from this miserable world. Selling drugs and doing illegal activities navigating a life of crime became my norm. I found another group of people that accepted me as I was, broken and damaged, in the carnival. I travelled with them for many years. Just another title to be added to the list; Carnie.

The thing was, I had come from a wealthy family. I lived in a mansion. I was given whatever I asked for. By 23 I was driving a $50,000 truck pulling my house trailer with my small family I had started. I had my children with a man 14 years older than me thinking I hit the jackpot. He was not my type, but he spoiled me and loved me; that’s all that matters right? To be loved? I had no idea my opinions mattered, and I certainly didn’t think anyone else would love me so I settled. The relationship was short lived and being a single mom became my new title.

What happened next was what started my downward spiral in life. I found I was good at playing poker, snorting cocaine and partying hard!! I lived a fast and hard life with no dreams or goals. When I changed my life around I assumed because of my past I had no right being equals to people with a life of value. I was the scum of the Earth in my eyes.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I’m a people person. I can be in a room and people gravitate towards me. Why couldn’t this be the case when I was younger? I had no idea what mindset could do. I was stuck in my victim hoodie wrapped tight not allowing anyone truly into my life. I hid the abuse from people because I was sick of being judged. So I continued my life thinking my people were addicts, drug dealers and people with no drive in life. I never imagined people who had houses, jobs and families would actually like me once they knew what kind of life I lead.

This past weekend was one of great aha moments. I was embraced once again by a community of women with one common desire; to change the world with our stories. That although our stories are similar or completely not we all matter and when we share we learn, and when we learn we grow. We really are the sum of the 5 people we hang out with the most, so I really needed to evaluate those I surround myself with. I am determined now more than ever to grow my business, make a difference in the world and leave a legacy. Tomorrow is not promised and when I am no longer here I want to be remembered as the woman who gave people their voices back.

Mindset is a wonderful thing! Let me elaborate, as you may be sitting there thinking this is all hogwash bullshit. When I started dating my now boyfriend we couldn’t spend the night together because he wakes up at stupid o’clock (430am) and I snore like a freight train and stop breathing on average 270+ times a night. Yes I have sever sleep apnea. Well, I told him I can get the machine, but I already tried it “I simply cannot wear the mask through the night!” I was actually wearing my victim hoodie again. I cant sleep at night because I have nightmares (I do), I can’t wear the mask because I feel someone is strangling me (I did), I can’t go to bed early because I am scared of the night (Iam) see the connections…. I CANT I CANT I CANT!!! Well he started spending the night with me and making me feel safe making sure I kept the mask on, and 5 months later I can say I do wear the mask and actually choose to not skip a night without it. I go to bed with him because I want to. I rarely have nightmares and if I do I choose to cuddle up next to him to feel safe. Instead of I can’t I choose and I do.

I have also taken off that victim hoodie and burned the darn thing! We are not our trauma, however we are what we choose to do about it. Yea I got dealt some pretty shitty cards, but I don’t want to dwell on it. I will talk about it because I believe sharing our stories help others, but instead of as a victim I share as a survivor thriving in todays world! I have friends who give meaning to my life and fill my cup with love.

Are your friends filling your cup or draining it? When you surround yourself with the right people you start to believe in yourself. When you visualize your success you start acting on it, and when you change how you talk you begin to live differently. Instead of saying I can’t next time say I can. The next time you want to make an excuse choose not to.

I leave you with that today and I know if I can change so can you!

XX Badass Bon

A little more complete

I am back. Yet again…. Do you know how hard it is to be a single mom to 3 children (two of which are teenagers), run a household and a business? While it is very rewarding it is also tiring. Especially when you havent slept well in decades. So, if this sounds like you I suggest looking further into how you can change this.

For me this began with sleep. After my friend telling me I stopped breathing one night I took the steps to find out if I have sleep apnea. We already know falling asleep is hard for me, but once I am asleep I wonder if I get any rem sleep. I do not. I slept over at the hospital and in 6 hours of sleep I stopped breathing over 230 times and my rem sleep didn’t last more than 3 minutes. Yikes!! So bring on the sexy cpap machine. Thank god I don’t share my bed hahahaha. At least this sexy momma will be alive though.

Next, how do I make living with 3 kids a bit easier? Well one I stepped it up. I have vowed to go somewhere new every weekend on an adventure. Building memories are very important and now that I am sober and available I need to prioritize my time. I also am learning to let go with the teenagers. 14 and 15 is when they learn who they are, and I can’t hold their hands along the way (I tried and its not happening) so I am being more lenient and in turn the kids talk to me more. What a win!!

I also was feeling a bit down feeling alone surrounded by so many supporters. Family. I was missing a big piece of my life and again I have prioritized what is most important to me. I met my bio dad in October after being estranged for over 2 decades and over May long weekend I was reunited with my Aunt and Uncle after 28 years!!! I always felt no worth and not loved. I wondered where my family was. Why did no one want me in their lives? Well they did! If my Mom hadn’t told my Dad he wasn’t my Dad maybe I would’ve found them earlier. No! I would have because I found his number multiple times throughout the years and left it to my Mom to call. Little did I know she would sabatoge my chance at being loved. So if I have learnt anything from this it would be take control of yourself! I was too scared of rejection that I never called my Dad, yet if I would’ve I would have been accepted right then and there. It is what it is though, and it is a life lesson. Rejection is a part of life, but if you dont try you dont know and not knowing is worse.

I remember this day and tell this story as the one where “I met my real dad for the first time” this was my only memory of him. I was 12 (in actuality I was 9) and Mom took me on her drinking adventure to Vancouver which was a pretty regular thing. After she got drunk she pointed to my Dad and said this is your Father. Stumped, after sitting there for hours beforehand. I remember the picnic table, the kitchen, basement and my Mom drinking then argueing with my Dad.

I am grateful to have found my family. The family that loves me and wants to be in my life.

“Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?”

Tonight I watched the movie Indian Horse with a friend who is very near to my heart  and boy did we cry. We knew we would and that is why we brought our own box of Kleenex, boy did we ever need them. Imagine me in my seat sobbing uncontrollably while blowing my snotty nose. Yea real hot hahahaha.

On the way home we talked deeply about the historical trauma we as Indigenous people have suffered and this is no different for myself. As much as I am pained by what my parents have done to me tonight I had some compassion. We as humans have choices to make regardless of our past. I personally have made many poor choices and today I rise above them all. Although this movie was based on Residential Schools it still is closely connected to the sixties scoop. My mother was called an “ugly nigger baby that is so ugly no one could love her.” She then lived in 13 foster homes and was abused sexually by multiple persons in majority of these homes. Yes I understand her for this but she chooses to be a victim and not own up to her mistakes. My step dad is a by-product of residential schools and has many mental health issues. Why he chose to molest me is unknown, but I know he needed help. Compassion I have, but tolerance is something I hold in high regard.

As I look back on the file my mom received from her childhood I see the pain that she lived through and in turn put upon me. It is my choice to stand up and end the cycle. It is said it will take 3 generations to heal from historical trauma and so I have some work to do to ensure I help as many people as I can end their cycles. Yes it is fucking hard!! Like Saul in the movie he was triggered and he gave up his dream; became an alcoholic and was filled with anger, but he too persisted. Sounds all too familiar.

When I first heard this song it resonated deeply with me. I listen to it every single day.


Understand the following is how I feel when I listen to this song and it is the emotions and thoughts that run through my mind. I am not that broken girl anymore but I am ever so aware of my feelings regarding my life. I am 100% open and vulnerable because I know I am not alone. People message me saying my words are their words that they are afraid to speak, so maybe if I continue to bare my truth it will help others bare their own.


How much of my mother has my mother left in me?
How much of my love will be insane to some degree?
And what about this feeling that I’m never good enough?
Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?

My ex would tell me I would grow into an ugly woman like my mother and that I was crazy like her. My biggest fear in life was being like her and being a failure of a mother. Even though I did fail in the early years as a mother who abandoned her children with her mother of all people. Would I love like her always? Like it was meaningless? And this feeling of not being good enough. I wasn’t good enough for her. I did everything to please her as a child. I would proudly show her my school work and she would get mad at me. Always disappointed. Was I destined to be a punching bag? Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in MY blood. Was I ever going to be good enough or was this my place in life.

How much of my father am I destined to become?
Will I dim the lights inside me just to satisfy someone?
Will I let this woman kill me, or do away with jealous love?
Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?

How much of my (step) father was I destined to become? I was afraid to touch my children for years afraid people knew I was molested and if I kept that secret that made me a bad person. I did not hug my children often, but boy I won’t let go now. I dimmed my light to satisfy someone. Several people actually. I kept the secret for fear of ruining peoples lives. I felt it my duty to give up my life for others to not suffer. Jealous love; oh boy. I always loved my mom even though she had a burning jealousy of me and how my Grandma doted on me.

I can feel love the I want, I can feel the love I need
But it’s never gonna come the way I am
Could I change it if I wanted, can I rise above the flood?
Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?

That love was not real. The marriage, the lies and desire to not be a failure. I finally stood on my story demanding the love I deserve and can give. I can change it because I choose to rise above the flood. I believe it can wash out in the water as I have family now that is not blood.

How much like my brothers, do my brothers wanna be?
Does a broken home become another broken family?
Or will we be there for each other, like nobody ever could?
Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?

Our broken family and broken home always fell heavily on my shoulders. If I had never wrote in my diary that he was molesting me my mom never would have found out. She would not hate me for what her husband did. If I was not born she would still have her son. She never told me it was my fault, but she made it very clear the ministry advised her of giving him up as she couldn’t handle both him and me. When you hear it enough you begin to analyze it as if I wasn’t there she wouldn’t have had the choice. 

I can feel love the I want, I can feel the love I need
But it’s never gonna come the way I am
Could I change it if I wanted, could I rise above the flood?
Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?
I can feel the love I want, I can feel the love I need
But it’s never gonna come the way I am
Could I change it if I wanted, can I rise above the flood?
Will it wash out in the water, or is it always in the blood?

I love this because it is my truth and I choose to rise above. Love will come because I am no longer the way I was. I made the choice to change and now the flood is nothing mere of a puddle. 

XX Badass Bon