Messaging an old friend

I wrote a while back that I had found my best friend from grade 7. I was contemplating whether to contact her.

Since then, I have been watching her reels on Instagram and hearing what she has to say. It took a recent reel in which she talked about trying to tell folks about her torture through her body language that encouraged me to finally contact her.

I remember her jumping at touch. She would walk fast with her arms crossed in front of her chest when she was upset. She had that flee instinct.

She was brave to state in grade 8 that she was sexually abused. She didn't spill all the beans about being tortured in a cult because she was still a part of it. It was tough for her to escape and be safe.

I am glad that I contacted her. I let her know that I have always believed her. I hope that she writes back. We'll see.

Finding my best friend from grade 7 and debating whether to contact her

I don't write as much as I used to here. It's partly life. It's partly because I am not in an intimate relationship.

I have topics to write about. I haven't prioritized posting them.

I do have some news to share. It's good news. I'm just not sure if I should take the bold step and reach out, or let the past stay in the past.

In grade 7, I was best friends with a person. I'll call her Candy. She was awesome, except that she was teased whenever someone would tap her on the shoulder or give her a hug.

I don't think we ever hugged. I didn't want to trigger anything. I never asked why she was so sensitive. I figured it out in grade 8.

We were in extended French class. We had an exercise to reveal a secret by writing it on a piece of paper. It would then be placed in a jar. Each one of us would fish out an entry, read it, and figure out who it was.

Candy asked how to say abuse in French. It caught my attention. It also caught the attention of two of our classmates.

We reported it to our French teacher. She spent a lot of time talking to counsellors after she shared what had happened to her. Our friendship started to change, well into grades 9 and 10.

She became a feminist. She didn't like eating lunch with our usual friends in the cafeteria. She preferred to eat lunch in the washroom.

We used to walk up to school and home together. All that stopped.

She changed high schools. We drifted apart. We saw each other a couple of times in Toronto. Once was when we were in grade 12. The last time was when I was in my second year of undergraduate studies. We met in a store on Yonge Street. She called my name. I said hi. That was it.

I have thought about her often over the years. I'd try searching for her online. Nothing.

I gave it a try today. Somehow, my persistence worked. It also helped that she openly stated her birthday on her Web site, right down to the year. I looked at her birthmark on her forehead and immediately knew that it was her.

She is definitely more verbally articulate than she used to be. She is far more open about being abused and her past. I didn't realize that she automatically grew up in a cult and ran away from home shortly after she changed school.

She changed her last name after she ran away from home. It explains one reason why I had a tough time finding her.

I'd like to contact her and say hi. I don't know whether that's a good idea. The abuse that she endured happened while we were best friends. She couldn't tell me anything because her abusers threatened to kill her, which is understandable.

Part of me wants to because I care that she's alive and seems to be doing well. Part of me thinks that if I do reach out, I will be resurrecting the horrible abuse flashbacks that was happening. 

I would like to think that our friendship was maybe an escape from this abuse. I just don't know.

I will sit on it and think some more. I am happy that she's doing great. She seems healthy. She is an author and an artist. 

Thinking of a best friend from the past

I had a best friend in grades 7 through 9. In grade 8, in an activity that we did in French class, she revealed that she was sexually abused.

I stayed with her and our French teacher to talk it out. I had an orthodontist's appointment and my dad was waiting for me, wondering why I was running late.

Our friendship suffered as she became more of a feminist and preferred to have lunch in the washroom by herself, rather than eating in the lunch room with a bunch of us.

Walking together to school slowly dwindled. We drifted apart. She changed high schools in grade 11. We didn't keep in touch.

The last time I saw her was in a store on Yonge Street, which is the longest street in the world and starts in Toronto. It was at the end of my second year of undergraduate studies. We said hi. She was with a woman. I was with my good friend whom we are still friends to this day.

I think of her often. Today is her birthday. I hope that she is doing well, wherever she is.

Happy birthday to my best friend!

Today's my best friend's birthday. We have been friends since we met in summer school when I had just turned sixteen years old. He is 1.5 months older than I am.

He came out to me as being gay when we were in university. I still remember that conversation over the phone. He didn't know how I'd feel I was good with it.

We caught up today when I texted him to say hi and wish him a great day. I didn't realize that his Facebook account was hacked and he had created a new account. He didn't know that my Instagram account had got hacked, either. We both weren't following each other, which is funny when I look at things now.

We sent a bunch of texts today. It was nice catching up. We hope to meet over a meal or something soon. It has been way too long!

Bloodwork, snow, and humidifer

I had bloodwork done on Tuesday morning. I was contemplating whether to go, as snow had fallen overnight. It was heavy, wet snow. Luckily, it was fine driving in it, so I was good.

I go see my doctor next week. If my congestion is still there, I'll ask about how to get rid of it. It has been a week since I caught this nasty cold. The cold is gone, but the congestion won't leave. Ugh!

My humidifier is my best friend. It does wonders. I am contemplating getting a portable one for work.

Visiting and thinking about my friend who is in hospital

A dear friend texted me the other day to say that she was in the hospital. She let me know yesterday that she had had surgery.

Later on today, I will be heading over to visit her. The drive is just under 1.5 hours for me. I asked if she wanted visitors. I'm so glad that she said yes!

I just finished writing a get-well-soon message for her. I filled out an entire greeting card and will bring it with me. I want to get her a gift card, too. I'm keeping things lightweight.

Weed scents in front of Best Buy

As I had written in a previous post, weed is legal in Canada. However, it depends on where you live to be able to smoke it in public.

I was at a Best Buy on Saturday afternoon. I visited a city a bit east of where I live. Roughly an hour later, I came out of the store. I smelled weed in the air.

I tend to associate smelling weed to being at a music concert. It will take me a while to associate it to my daily life.

Reflections - ex-hubby's birthday and love for my guy

Today is my ex-hubby's birthday. It's strange that he has been out of my life for several years now. Yet, I still remember dates that I should forget.

Our wedding anniversary was June 5th. I thought about it briefly earlier this month. I remember how happy I was that day. Sadly, things did not work out.

He died over three years ago. It seems longer. He died too soon. However, I am at peace.

He wasn't upfront and honest with me during the first few years that we dated. That foundation of our relationship was cracked right off the bat.

I am in a much better place with my guy. I am thankful that he dropped into my life. He is my best friend and the love of my life.

It's true that through rough times, happier times ultimately prevail.

Kisses, orgasm, kisses... a kisses sandwich!

I found my guy's car in the parking lot. I pulled up next to it. I thought that the plan was to transfer his luggage from his car to mine, and then head to the airport.

I can always tell when my guy misses me a ton. The parking lot was full. He normally prefers to show his affectionate side in private. That habit went out the door. We hugged for a long time.

"Did you want to chat in my car?" my guy asked me.
"How much time do you have?" I asked him.
"We can chat for half an hour before you take me to the airport," he replied.

My guy didn't want to deal with the luggage. He wanted us in the car. He wanted to kiss me. I'm glad that he did. I wanted it, too.

I parked my car in a free, conveniently close spot. I then joined him in his car.

We made out. It was nice, as always. I took off his hat and caressed his perfectly uniform head.

"You are the best kisser that I have ever had," he remarked.
"You, too. I love your full lips," I replied as we both came up for air.

My guy unzipped my jacket and put his hand down my purple sweater and bra. He played with my right breast.

"Your nipple is always hard," he replied.
"I'm with you. That's why," I pointed out.

He rubbed my crotch. I was so turned on. Moments later, I came. It was good.

We kissed some more. He continued kissing my neck and shoulders. He's sweet that way.

Diametrically opposed periods

On Saturday, I spent the day with a good friend. We have been friends since grade 7.

Growing up, she lived in the suburbs and I lived in Toronto. We both went to the same senior public and high schools in the eastern part of Toronto. We were in touch while we attended different universities. I then moved away to another province and country, eventually finding my way back to the greater Toronto area. She ended up moving to Toronto and staying there. We still got together whenever I was in town and we kept in touch through the years.

In June, she will be moving to eastern Ontario, in a city that is roughly a two-hour drive away from me. It's not too bad, considering that we'll be meeting midway somewhere.

I am excited for her. The change will be good for her. Naturally, I will miss hanging out with her as frequently as we have been these days. However, distance has never been an issue for us.

As weird as this segment will be, we seem to be diametrically opposed in some areas of our lives. We both realized that menstrual cycles are one such area.

She let me know as we were driving to one of our favourite restaurants that she is perimenopausal. It basically means that she is experiencing irregular menstrual cycles and menopausal symptoms, such as hot flashes, earlier than you typically do as a woman. She seems to get getting her period every six months. Her doctor has said that either she will continue this irregular pattern or her period will cease.

As for me, I experienced the complete opposite experience. When I first got my period in grade 7, my period was irregular right from the start. Mine never happened monthly. Sometimes, it was six months later. Other times, it could have been a year. My thyroid checked out fine. I was given pills to regulate my period and so on.

It wasn't until I lost sixty pounds nearly six years ago that my menstrual cycle became a monthly, predictable event. Hormones are interesting. I had lost and gained weight many times in my life, and my period continued to be irregular. It wasn't until I lost a significant amount of weight and kept it off that my hormones stabilized.

So, my good friend and I are like two ships in the night, except that we are Cancerian and often meet by water.

Getting a haircut and feeling great

I finally got around to getting my hair cut on Friday. I haven't had it cut for nine months.

My guy is observant when it comes to my hair. He loves touching it.

"Your hair is at the length where you feel that it needs to be cut," he noticed the other day.
"You're right. I need to get it cut soon."

On Thursday night, I was at work longer than I had anticipated to get a deliverable out the door. I know that my hair is too long for my liking when I have my purse across my body and the strap is trapping my hair. It happened as I was heading out the door.

After work, I thought about going straight to my neighbourhood hair salon to get a hair cut. However, I wasn't sure whether my regular hairdresser would be there.

Instead, I visited the salon just after 09:00 on Friday. My hairdresser was there, happy to see me again. She is the best. She does wonders with my hair.

My head feels a lot lighter without the extra hair weighing me down.

I went into work later on in the day with my shorter hair. It took me a while to figure out why my colleagues were looking at me differently. It didn't occur to me that they were looking at my hair!

Anyway, I am glad that I took most of my workday off to work on me. I have been neglecting getting my hair cut. My hairdresser mentioned that I have great hair despite not getting for that long. That made my day!

Rough times for my guy

I could sense that something was wrong with my guy on Wednesday.

I briefly saw the back of his head in the communal lunch room. He didn't come to visit me. That was unusual for him.

He eventually did come over to his cubicle at 6 pm. We chatted along with another colleague. I then asked him if he had a moment to chat. He did. We went into a conference room and closed the door.

Sure enough, my guy is going through a tough time both at work and with how he feels about himself. He openly spilled what was wrong, which he wouldn't have been the case two years ago. He's a moody guy, but we both seem relieved talking it out.

I told him that he was my best friend. He said that it was mutual. He appreciated that I am always there for him and that I am understanding.

Needless to say, now is not the best time for us to engage in treehouse time. However, I had to squeeze his hand and tell him that all would be okay. I also got to caress him freshly shaven head. He felt good after I had done that.

We had planned to go out for dinner on Thursday night to talk some more. It did help that we had spent an hour talking things through at work.

He'll be okay. Time tends to help sort such things out.