Thursday Morning Musings

Studies have shown (yes, those ubiquitous studies) that when people choose lovers who resemble themselves, those relationships are often stronger and last longer.

Therein lies my problem. I have yet to choose someone just like me, instead choosing lovers for their Beauty.

Here is just one on my list of important qualities –  beautiful hands.

I am born under the sign of Libra and Libra is ruled by Venus. Venus is the planet of love, relationships, and beauty. So it stands to reason that when I meet a woman who has beautiful strong hands I often fall just a little bit in love.

I imagine those hands constructing an outdoor hot tub, because I have always wanted an outdoor hot tub custom built by my very own handy dyke. While mine is a worthy fantasy, after that tub is built and we are chillin’ in our tubbie, my fantasy crashes and burns.

I am a series of anomalies wrapped in a tiny but chubby body. I read The Globe and Mail every day so I am well aware of current events but choose not to discuss politics or business nor the state of the world, choosing instead to talk almost obsessively, according to the dykes I have dated, about Relationship. This does not go over well with said dykes who would rather take a blow to the head than talk about Us.

I am a Jew who goes to my local LGBT church. I am J.A.P who doesn’t wear makeup or blow dry her hair, but loves to frequent five star hotels. I eschew jewelry but am obsessed with my oversized Rolex. I am a voracious reader who prefers not to talk about the books I have read, instead choosing to keep them close to my heart.

I am an expansive relational woman who finds other expansive relational women too much –  hence my trajectory toward the cold contained W.A.S.P dyke who then rejects my wild heathen ways.

Oh well, it is what it is, and I am what I am. As Doris Day sings ‘Que Sera Sera’.

The Inside Out Film Festival begins this week, and I am off to stand in line in the rain to see if can purchase a ticket for the film ‘The Ring Thing’. Perhaps if the fates allow, I shall be standing in line when a gallant dyke offers me the shelter of her umbrella.

Stayed tuned…

Oh Happy Day

On this day 1/4 of a century ago, I was a little pregnant and a whole lot overwhelmed for I was committing to a man that I did not love, wearing a dress not of my choosing and marrying in the very same synagogue where I had lost my faith years before.

But then…..

There was that moment.

That one perfect moment just after those enormous wooden double doors of the sanctuary opened and I began my slow walk down the long red carpeted aisle, when I heard a collective gasp from the crowd, and for those few fleeting seconds I felt like a real Princess Bride.

Then it was my parents turn to march. They walked down the aisle to meet me halfway where we would walk a trois together towards the Beemah.

As I reached out to hold their hands, I tripped and all of my princess beauty collapsed into a heap in the middle of that red carpeted aisle, my true self exposed for all to see.

Of course, there was the matter of the groom. And even though it ended with vitriol and violence, it was worth it all for those few glorious seconds where I actually felt in the deepest down part of me, that I was finally being seen as the Radiant Self  I so longed to be.

I Just Want To Thank You

Early this morning, I walked over to the park on the street where I live, Lucille-less. I  just wanted to be in the moment, breathing in the fresh morning air unencumbered by my puppy, who is charming and funny but needs constant supervision since Lucille feels it is her personal mission to eradicate every single one of those pesky squirrels that live just to torment her.

I  am terrified of large dogs, so I rarely go to this particular park even though it is literally across the street from my home, because this zaftig neurotic lesbian Jewess does not think it is at all relaxing to be jumped on by large loping roaming free dogs despite their owner’s protestations that Rover is super friendly.

 However, on this particularly beautiful spring morning I thought it might be worth the risk, praying to God (which is after all, Dog spelled backwards) that my doggie neighbours would still be fast asleep in their doggie beds.

So off I went, down the steep step of stairs that brought me directly into the park and then, boom! sun glorious sun and wide open space and no one there but me and I was so happy and so grateful to be alive and whole, arriving Here
to watch the sun rise on this glorious day.

 Just then the song ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell came on my IPod and I began to dance with abandon, singing gloriously off-key, opening my heart once again to the magic of our world.

Searching For Goodness

Lately I have been searching for goodness. Not looking through rose colored glasses as before, for that distorted my true and clear vision, but by simply honoring the good that has already made a soft landing into my life.

This can be as simple as appreciating a doggie kiss from my circus puppy Lucille, or as complex as excavating the beauty from the abyss of my relationship with  my ex- partner Jane.

Last night I had a wonderful dream.  I was sitting in a light filled room when a beautiful woman who resembled Julie Andrews came into the room and sat down next to me. She took my hand and for the first time in my life, I felt complete.  She then spoke to me in a beautiful British accent:

“Just allow the healing in Katharine, allow the healing to flow through you.” I woke up soon after and just lay in my bed, letting my thirsty soul drink in her words.

 Due to the many circumstances of trauma in my life, I felt the need to keep my heart closed. Now a year into my sobriety, I will try my best to allow my heart to open into: healing, beauty and goodness.

I am making Allow in the Good  my new mission statement, so that when I feel triggered I will remind myself to:

1.  Take three deep healing breaths.

 2. Soften my heart and trust in my own innate worth- ability.

 3. Try to search for the good in every situation – even if I need to use my shovel to find the gift hidden in the morass.

I now raise my glass of O.J in a toast to this beautiful day as I eagerly await the nine o’clock hour to watch the finale of Scandal. Go Olivia Go!

All of Me


I am going to try really hard today to stay present and allow myself to be with all of my feelings. I still find it a challenge to luxuriate in all of my emotions, finding it so much easier to split off from my feelings and just feel… nothing.

Growing up in my dysfunctional family of four, feelings were not allowed to be spoken or felt. If I had dared to tell my mother I was anything less than fine, I was told that nobody will like me if I am not smiling and happy. “But what if I don’t feel happy?” I asked. “Just fake it Katharine, nobody likes sad people.”

I wanted so badly to be loved and accepted that I pushed all those confusing dark feelings far down in my gut, keeping my feelings buried by alternately bingeing and then starving, better to focus on my fluctuating weight, then on my feelings.

Now what was I to do? I did right thing. I got married, had a child and there I was, a professional people pleaser, constantly trying to please my angry husband and my demanding daughter. I didn’t understand why or how I ended up here when all I had ever done was try to be good.

Here is the moral of my rambling road of a story:

If you did not have a parent who validated all of you, who mirrored back to you in word and deed that your feelings were just that – feelings – and that all feelings are welcomed here in this family and in your body, then you will spend your life running from your crazy.

I married someone who acted out my long buried rage, giving me permission to then berate him for daring to act out my unspoken and un-allowed feelings. I hid from my true feelings for so long that I couldn’t acknowledge even to myself that what I most deeply wanted was to be with a woman until I was almost forty years old. Sadly, until I changed, the only thing that changed was the gender of my partner, my story remained the same.


This morning after waking up I stumbled into my bathroom and gently gazed at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.  I said out loud:

“I love and accept all of me. My fiery temper, my tendency to always speak my truth, and every bit of my me-ness from my frizzy hair down to my weird looking scrunched up tongue.”

I shall continue giving myself permission to feel all my feelings and try my best to not run from them, and in doing this brazen act of self – love and acceptance I will set myself free.

So my friends, love all of yourself. Tell yourself every day that you do matter and it is more than okay to be angry and feel angry and think angry thoughts and that doesn’t make you a bad person, it makes you a real one.


Chicken Soup For My Soul

While driving down Yonge Street this morning on my way to the butcher to pick up chicken for my chicken soup, I spotted a woman who was attempting to jay walk.  The car before me had not slowed down for her and she was so mad that even though I stopped to let her cross, she could not summon up the energy to give me the ubiquitous wave. She spent all her energy on glaring at the car ahead of me, even giving the driver the middle finger salute as she made her way across the road.

After this brief exchange took place I reflected on our moment of connection, and how this stranger’s actions had reflected my own behaviour back to me. I was so focused on looking at who in my past did me wrong that I couldn’t see who was directly in front of me doing me right.

When I lived with my now ex- partner Lorraine, she told me that she had no intention of ever committing to me on a permanent basis, even though by that time we had been living together for two years. She tried to wound on purpose when she revealed that information to me, and though her intention to wound was disturbing, I was relieved to hear her finally speak her truth.

When I first moved in to her apartment, she gave me a shelf in her cupboard and an even smaller space in her bathroom for my many toiletries. I came with an Arts and Crafts cherry wood dining room table which she was happy to welcome into her space.

Though I had never lived with a woman before, I knew that this was not the proper way to be welcomed in.  I was so desperate to be loved, so desperate to be saved from my own un- looked at pain that I gladly took the crumb she held out to me and held onto it for dear life.

When she told me that she did not want to be intimate with me anymore, I did not accept it with aplomb. I begged and pleaded for months, debasing myself over and over again.  Deep down in my body/mind I believed that I was not worthy of love and that she was correct in refusing me. It took years of therapy for me to realize that I too was not that interested in having sex with her, for why would I want to be with someone who was so rejecting?  I realized that what I was really interested in, what I was really turned on by, was the No!

Once I realized that I was encouraging her to say No to sex, I stopped asking her to sleep with me. Now why would I want her to say No? The trail of No’s lead back to my childhood. I was never told I was a good child, rarely praised for my excellent grades, only told how weird I was and how everything I did was not correct.


” Mommy, may I stay inside to read my new Nancy Drew book? ”

No! Go play outside with all the other ‘normal’ kids.”

” Katharine, you are bad girl talking back to your mother! I never talked back to mine!”

“But Mommy, maybe you should have talked back!”

No, Katharine, you are wrong!”

“Why do you have to ask questions about everything, Katharine?”

And so on, and so on…


My understanding of  love could be summarized in this way:

Love Hurts

So it made sense that when I became an adult, I would be attracted to and attract into my life women who reflected back to me my distorted version of myself, because I was still looking backward to my past, where my wounds began.

It has not easy for me to stay in the present, I must constantly remind myself that I am deserving of a love that doesn’t use shame as its calling card. In my not so distant past, if asked to choose one lesbian out of a line up, I inevitably would choose that lesbian who would share her great big fat No! with me.

Not anymore!

I know now I am deserving of a relationship with a kind and caring woman, a woman who will spend the rest of her life wanting to make sweet love to me, offering her heart and her home, and not just a drawer and a corner of her heart.

In return I will share my heart, my hard earned wisdom and my secret chicken soup recipe!




i’m mourning the loss of my tribe.

i’m mourning the loss of my dream

of sharing a holiday meal

with all my relations.


i’m mourning the loss of

adopting a child from china,

giving me that second

chance at a family

of my own.


i’m mourning the loss of my innocence.

i’m mourning the loss of all

my illusions.

i’m mourning the loss of

my last hiding place.


i have lost the battle,

that has raged on

for so long,

i can’t even remember who

started the war.


i surrender.


i live now in this

arid desert,

nothing here but

dust and deserted dreams.


“i am alive,

i am alive!”

said my still throbbing heart

to the sand, to the

sky, and to me.


here i am.