Linda Bayley

18Nov 2018 by Linda Bayley

On the deaths of heroes

Musings

I was eighteen when Isaac Asimov died. The moment that I learned of his death is still very clear in my head: I came home from school, the radio was on, and the newscaster was describing a man whose accomplishments seemed very much like those of Mr. Asimov. I started to feel shaky, and had to pull out a chair at the kitchen table to sit in while I waited for confirmation of what my gut was telling me. I remember crying, and not being able to stop. I remember my stepfather scoffing at me when he learned who the tears were for. I said, "Didn't you ever lose a hero?" He said, "You don't know what a hero is." Asimov was a giant in my life. I was a…

23Jul 2018 by Linda Bayley

Content notice

Musings

Today I read an excellent article on the writers' website Mythcreants. It was about the need for what they call Content Notices, known more commonly as Trigger Warnings. Apparently, and I didn't know this, some people scoff at the idea of warning people at the beginning of a written work that there may be unpleasant or disturbing content in what they are about to read. (These would be the people who lack empathy, and who don't understand the real danger that comes when a person is subjected to written material they weren't ready for.) Well, I don't scoff at the idea. But until I read this article, it didn't occur to me that my blog might need to be flagged with a content notice. A content notice allows a person to…

16Jul 2018 by Linda Bayley

Everything you carry

Musings

Lately I've been feeling heavy. Not just physically heavy, though there's that too. Emotionally heavy, mentally heavy, morally heavy. Imagine a sponge that has absorbed so much water that you think it can't possibly hold any more. And then plunge that sponge deep into a bucket of bilge water, and weigh it down with a brick. That's me. I am sponge heavy. Part of it is coming from the relics of my past, some of which I have already discussed here. Part of it is coming from paying attention to the media, social and mainstream. Part of it is just the daily weight of living: pulling my exhausted body out of bed, plastering a smile to my face, pretending that I am not screaming in the echo chamber of my…

02Jul 2018 by Linda Bayley

May proceed, but not

Action, Musings

The other day I came across my final exam report from the University of Waterloo. In my second term there, I failed three of my five classes: Calculus, Algebra, and Physics. I had gone to Waterloo with $19,000 worth of scholarships, a congratulatory letter from the Prime Minister of Canada, and the expectation that I would be a brilliant success. I left sixteen months later under a cloud of depression, the copper taste of failure in my mouth. I was there to study Mathematics, with the intent to specialize in Computer Science. If you had asked me when I was thirteen where I was going to go to school, I would have told you Carleton, to study journalism. Same thing if you had asked me when I was fourteen. I…

05May 2018 by Linda Bayley

Rescue

Action, Love

There's a new girl in my life. Her name is Daphne. She may be three years old, she may be younger. We don't know, because she was a stray. She was picked up from the streets of another city not far from mine, went through the lost and found process without being found, and eventually made her way to the SPCA branch only a half-hour's walk from where I work. I haven't written much in the last month, being paralyzed as I was with grief and uncertainty over what I should do with myself, now that Jazz is gone. For a few weeks I didn't do much of anything but struggle through the day and cry through the night. By April 7th I was starting to retch whenever I got…

30Mar 2018 by Linda Bayley

Terror in the aftermath

Musings

After twenty-four years living with the same pair of cats, I have now discovered a new sound: the sound you hear when you turn off all the lights at night, and there are no cats walking across the floor. It's just about the worst sound I've ever heard. I know there are people out there who don't understand this grief I'm carrying around right now. Jazz was a cat, after all. It's not like she was a human child. Imagine, I tell those people, that you had no human children, and that your cat was the creature you poured all your love and caring into, the creature who gave that love and caring right back to you, and now she's gone. Imagine how you'd feel then. Not the same, they…

21Mar 2018 by Linda Bayley

On stickers, and making choices

Action, Musings

Every day on my wall calendar at work shows one of three things: a big O means that I wasn't there. A bright, colourful sticker means that I made it all the way to three o'clock without buying a snack. A great big X means, well, I didn't earn a sticker. In February, I had a few good weeks. In March, I have had a few bad ones. I can prove it; I can see it happening. The evidence is right there on the calendar. To me, each sticker represents a day filled with healthy choices. I ate only the food I brought with me to work, and it was healthy food, and I felt satisfied with it. It was a day where I was able to do the things…

09Mar 2018 by Linda Bayley

Remember this

Love, Musings

Remember this. Remember how, the first time you held her, she settled right into your arms, looked up into your eyes, and purred. Remember how it was Domino who wanted to be friends with the new cat, but she hissed and fought, until the day they called a truce and you found them on the couch, lying facing each other, nose to nose. Remember the things she taught him: how to use the scratching post (not just something to lean against), how to hurl one's entire tiny body at the bedroom door to open it (not that pathetic scratching and whining). Remember what he taught her: the cat version of ippon kumite, lunge for his neck, get batted down, get back up and try again. Always get back up and try…

06Mar 2018 by Linda Bayley

The rush of oncoming grief

Musings

My girl is having trouble. Her back legs have been giving out on her; her bladder has been betraying her dignity. I watch her struggle in that stubborn way of hers and I know that grief is coming. It is inevitable. The question that is plaguing me the most is, just how far away is that grief? I am night blind. I never cross a street at dawn or dusk unless I’m at a streetlight, because I just can’t tell how far away the approaching headlights are. They could be miles away; they could be a moment from erasing me. This is what it feels like. This grief that’s rushing towards me could be days away, or minutes. I’m hoping for years, of course, but I understand that’s not as…

04Mar 2018 by Linda Bayley

Those eggshells

Action, Musings

Today my friend JDS told me something that an earlier version of me would have found devastating: he likes my personalities, except for one. That would be the personality that carries the ammo purse, the personality he has to tiptoe around, even if he's trying to pay me a compliment. A compliment, in fact, was what brought that personality out today. I didn't take that compliment at face value; I looked under the surface, and believed I found sarcasm there, believed he was trying to hurt me. Like the mistrustful dog who turns and snarls when you hold out your hand, I snapped at him. If you've dealt with a person with BPD, you're nodding your head right now. You're saying, "Yes, I'm always walking on eggshells. I never know…