Author Archives: ambber92

A journey.

A cause.

A saving grace.

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I wake in the morning with muddled thoughts. The delusions of who I was the night before. I cling to the toilet for dear life.

I’m sick again.

Head pounding – I spend another morning wondering who I could be. I stop. I eat. I sleep.

Evening rolls around and I’m the same carousel as the day before.

I’m exhausted.

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I have spent 14 years of my life taken by a bottle.

I have cried at the tables of bosses, family, counsellors, school staff and friends to fight with me, to give me another chance.

I have begged to be the girl I was before to a entity that watched me sign my life’s contract.

Only to learn this was an experience I had to grow through.

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From the human perspective it was my trauma that got me here.

I’ve dabbled in every sort of escapism that man could conjure up.

Drinking is what took me to forgotten lands. The land of no trauma, no memories. Each drink removed another layer until there was nothing left. Not even my soul was their to riddle the memory.

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My drinking career didn’t end with just one big fall. It was a thousand little ones that exhausted me to the point of no return.

Big fights, failed attempts, lost relationships, late mornings and my own broken heart.

I didn’t go to AA right away, I didn’t lean on the support of family and friends. I wasn’t even planning on quitting.

I did dry Feb as a challenge with a coworker. I hadn’t been sober for a month since I was hospitalized at the age of 15. So I thought why not? I’ll drink after the challenge is done.

But March came and I was happier than I had ever been, I was sleeping better, my weekends were productive, I was coherent and not saying things I didn’t mean. I was for the most part, me again.

The months just kept rolling by, I struggled to find support in the arms of the ones I loved most as I watched them drink in front of me. I felt unsupported and lost but I knew I needed to do this for me.

So I kept going and today is my one year. I sit in my living room writing this, alone with my pets and I fill my heart with gratitude for how far I’ve come.

My heart is full as I look around my cozy apartment with decorations that I’ve put up, walls that I’ve painted, and sober celebratory treats from my best friend on the counter.

I look at my pets, who I love so much and have so much more patience and time for then ever before.

I’m taking a course in school while working full time, a dream I had but could never fulfil.

I make time for my family.

My temper has subsided.

I listen and remember more about each person that I love.

I read every day.

I have a routine, morning and night.

I have a good relationship where we talk about our feelings and our future.

I make time for myself and I listen to my body.

I am in love with my life, no matter the struggle.

These are all the things I never could’ve imagined just one year ago.

I have everything I could ever need. I am happy, I am fulfilled, I am loved.

Her nose is too big

Her lips are too thin

She’s gained weight. Are you pregnant?

She has no ass, nice boobs though

She’s a 6, you could do better

You look Asian (and yes it was supposed to be an insult)

These are all things that have been said about me. Some to my face and some behind my back. The list isn’t long but I wouldn’t want to know the things that I haven’t heard.

Because in my lowest of lows, I have said these things to myself along with various other painful words that I didn’t deserve to hear; from myself or anyone.

I hear these “flaws” as if the person saying them doesn’t have flaws of their own.

I hear these “flaws” and I review them in the mirror. Question their importance. Question validity and their impact on how I view myself.

As I stand in front of a body length mirror. I look at myself.

I see the nose that was gifted to me from my grandmother.

I see my too thin for some lips and I admire the beauty mark that sits on my bottom lip. I smile at myself and see my beautiful big white teeth that have never been touched by braces.

I look at my flat butt and laugh at the bannock bum jokes. I assess the little curves of my body and I am grateful that my body works. I can wake up in the morning and move as I please. I can go to yoga and enjoy the movement of my body. I have a body that I am proud of and I’m glad to call home.

I think of the rating that has been given to me and wonder what would possess such words to leave your mouth. What a misogynistic concept. To provide a woman a rating based solely on her exterior. Have you heard the saying “beauty fades”. I will grow old and you will too. We will both turn to dust. The only difference is that I will seen the beauty of the souls that I’ve met.

The idea that having a similar appearance to a certain culture should be a hurtful comment. Sure, I understood what you meant by “Asian” you meant Chinese. I’m sorry sir but did you know that Asia is a continent? It’s filled with different faces of beauty. This comment didn’t swing with the pain you intended; it was a compliment. For their lands and oceans are filled with Queens.

And yes all of these comments, one by one, cut a little bit deep but surely not as deep as your pain runs to believe that your thoughts and opinions are the beauty standards of billions of people that reside on this planet. So when your thoughts aren’t as shallow and your pain isn’t as deep. I will be here with a loving embrace. Basking in the glory of my beauty that is beyond skin deep.

I have these weeks that I fold into myself. The world becomes too loud. The feelings and emotions of others are oceans that are no longer swimable.

I spend my days alone in quiet spaces occasionally spending time with 1 or 2 people that feel like home. Even after a short amount of time their words and actions become too loud.

I listen and honour the parts of me that need to step away.

The quiet provides a comfort similar to the warmth of my mothers arms.

I retreat. I learn. I grow. I observe. I attempt to battle unwanted emotions.

I process. I heal.

The water calms, I am able to swim again. But not too quickly. I dip a toe in to see if the water is warm and to see if it’s safe.

The process feels as if it was a slow psychedelic ride.

Who are you? In the early mornings before the rest of the world is awake.

Who are you? When you go to bed at night feeling the energy around you from earlier that day.

What is your purpose when you are alone?

What is your purpose when the opinions from other feel too strong?

What is your purpose after you find a new interest or hobby?

Why are you here? What makes you, YOU? What are the things that make you dance? How do you cope when the world feels to heavy?

These are the questions I ask myself as I think about why I’m doing this blog.

None of them have clear answers, as I am an ever changing canvas.

So we can get back to basics:

I am Amber and I want to share how I got here. To this blog and this mind space.

As a young girl, I started writing in a journal. I’ve continued that practice into my adulthood.

Every new journal I start. I never know what to say. A blank page, a blank book, a new start.

I always start with who I am and quickly write down some confused thoughts of why I’m writing. It’s my personal introduction to that new book.

I didn’t start my open journal, Ambrace, that way. My anxious mind and my broken heart led the way with my first 2 posts but I love what I did all the same.

So now, we can take a few steps back and I’ll tell you more about me.

Am I qualified to be a writer of any kind? No.

Am I a good writer? I don’t know. My mom is the only one that reads my posts before I publish them and she’s say they’re amazing (and truly that’s all the matters).

As I ask those questions I realize that’s not what I’m here for. I’m not here to question myself or my abilities. I may not be the best or the most knowledgeable but I am here.

With so many opinions and self help anything and everything (blogs, books, shows, movies, YouTube channels, Instagram, TikTok. The options are endless). What makes me any different from the rest? It’s the thing makes us each different. Our individuality, our perceptions, our upbringings, our ideas, our minds. There is nothing more or less that I have to offer than anyone else. I just am. I am here. I am writing. I am doing.

And all I know is I have a story like so many of us do and I want to share it… to heal myself and maybe to heal others.

At some point you have to stick all of your fears, thoughts and expeditions into the fuck-it buck-it and go!!

So join me as I ramble about my life, who I was and who I’m becoming. I will discuss my perception of the world, spiritual growth, Indigenous culture, my journey to sobriety and whatever my mind thinks up that day 🙂

Under the “About Me” tab you’ll see the following message:

My name is Shimmering Water Woman. My English name is Amber. I come from the Deer clan. I currently reside in small town Ontario but my home is a nearby First Nation community.

My Great-Great Grandmother was a medicine woman, my Great Grandmother was a Residential School Survivor and my Grandmother attended Indian Day School and she is a survivor of colonizer induced trauma.

I am, as all Indigenous peoples are today, the survivor of genocide. I stand and breathe the pride of Indigenous resilience.

I am here to tell my journey of self-discovery that turned into self-love.

The first paragraph is how we introduce ourselves as Indigenous peoples. Our name, our clan, our home and where we reside.

I go on to provide information about my grandmothers. Whenever I go to an gathering and someone doesn’t know me. They’ll say “well who is your mom?” If they don’t know my mom “who is your grandmother” and so on until the connection is made. This serves a dual purpose,

1. for the hereditary line, the connection, the impact when we share that line with other Indigenous people

2. for the Western world to see the impact of my history, Indigenous history, Canadian history.

I want whoever takes the time to read this blog to know that I am grateful for you. I’m grateful that you have chosen to explore this blog and I hope you keep coming back.

Its been a week since I wrote my initial post and over a week since Roscoe’s diagnoses.

In that time I’ve been able to process more emotions, on a deeper level and I’ve had some more thoughts on loss.

You cannot live life without love and loss.

The First of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism is Suffering. The inevitability of suffering: aging, sickness, death, experiencing unpleasant events, physical suffering, mental suffering, and the suffering of happiness.

(Now, I won’t pretend to be an expert in Buddhism but I learn when I can and have picked up some information from others who know more than I along the way.)

When I think of suffering, its the pain, its the angst, the deep feeling of ‘when will this end’, when time slows and you’ve separated from reality. These moments of pain are apart of life the same way moments of joy and happiness are apart of life.

Over my life I have tried to comprehend loss. Loss of youth, loss of relationships, loss of life.

We are moving through constant evolvement. Change is happening all around us (whether we see it or not, whether we wish it to or not). Birth and Death are all around us. Its consistent.

The death of a season, the rebirth of the next. New life and death. Death of old thought patterns, birth of a new version of you.

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I was stopped at a construction area, I noticed them removing grass and small trees to widen the road. Death of nature to improve the quality of human life. A death of nature, a birth of human ease. This is isn’t uncommon, we kill so we can “thrive”.

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When I think of loss, I think of joy. The reason I’ve experienced pain due to loss is because I’ve enjoyed my time in that situation or with that person or animal. There are boat loads of loving memories and suffering at the end is a result of that happiness.

I was extremely sad when I left college but it birthed a new me. A career Amber.

When I quit drinking I missed the free flowing party girl but again it birthed a new me. A free flowing sober Amber.

I’ve looked in the mirror and noticed the changes from my youth. Lines and wrinkles are proof of a life well lived. We get smile lines and crows feet.. all from laughing. Some lines are from thinking to hard and stressing over things we cannot change. Be thankful for both; it shows you are human.

I’ve broken my own heart one too many times in relationships but I’ve always gained something from that loss. Characteristics I enjoyed in a companion and other characteristics.. not so much. Memories and moments shared with another human we may never interact with again (in this lifetime) or perhaps we share awkward encounters at social gatherings with mutual friends with the knowing we have experienced a life together.

I’ve lost family and friends to the inevitable. The permanency of death (the death of your physical body) still boggles my mind and I haven’t quite grappled with it yet. However, I was taught from a young age that death was a natural process in life. We have a sacred fire for when someone passes on, it’s lit for 4 days to help guide their way home. These sacred fires are so healing, they provide a sense of closure. You sit with loved ones or sometimes just the fire keeper and share stories. There’s always laughter, natives laugh about nearly anything and the laughter is healing. After our funerals and different ceremonies we’ll feast and the first plate that is served is the feast plate for the spirits. We are always honouring our Ancestors. So as difficult as it is for me to comprehend death, I am grateful for teachings that help to heal broken hearts.

We do this thing as humans where we compare. Compare happiness. Compare bodies. Compare minds. The list goes on of what we compare but I think one of the saddest things we compare is pain. I said to my one of my very closest and best humans “my pain is irrelevant to yours because you’ve experience worse” she said back to me “your pain is your pain and it hurts, just because mine is worse doesn’t make yours any less painful”. When she said that to me it was like the world had dropped and I could feel whatever I needed to in that moment.

We all experience suffering in different lights, to different degrees but we’ve all experienced suffering.

As I reread the title of this post. Full of Life.

What does it mean to be Full of Life?

When I thought of it, I thought of my bouncing, joyful, no care pup.

But when I think of the human experience.

Full of Life can mean various things. To have experienced joy, laughter, pain, sorrow. The wind in your hair, the sun on your face, the rain on your skin, the dirt beneath your toes.

And of course to have loved and lost. Witnessing birth and death of self (ego) and others.

What does it mean to you.. to be Full of Life?

It feels fitting to start a blog on the topic of death.

Birth and death.

On November 5th, I found out my best boy has cancer. My sweet pupper, a boxer-mix named Roscoe. He was diagnosed with Osteochondrosarcoma Grade 2.

The day I found out, I repeated the name of the cancer so often that it was ingrained in my brain; how to spell it, how to pronounce it. Like knowing what might take my dogs life, a few years too soon, would give me more power than it. I spent that first day being incredibly sad, I cried for hours. I couldn’t think about anything else.

The second day, I cried some more while he spent the day with his grandma playing at the garden. I cried and cried in the bathroom stall of my workplace but then I remembered I would always fight for my boy. I called a vet that came to me with a glowing recommendation. She focuses on Holistic and Chinese medicine for pups with cancer. The power I was yearning for the day prior was there in full force.

The third day, I embraced my dog for all that he is. I took him on a hike with some friends. My patience was tested as he pulled on his leash but as I reflect on it; there’s nothing else that I want more than my boxer to be his excitable boxer self. We fed him some human food and he was loved up by our family.

The fourth day, well that’s today. I sat and I wrote this knowing today and the days following that I would embrace the now; my dog is healthy, happy and himself right now. I sat and wrote this reflecting on how sacred life is. In awe with the resilience of my dog and his beautiful playful nature, he has no idea what is happening and that is so beautiful.

So I will continue to provide the best life for him; no matter what it takes for as many days as I have with him.

We are constantly being shown how short life is. But it is alarming how little we do about it. We are told we need to make the best of it and enjoy it.

In truth – we are all dying. We just aren’t sure when.

Our days are numbered but only until we know someone is dying or someone has gone do we start to question our love and time with them.

I don’t say that to depress you. I say it to raise questions within ourselves.

Are you enjoying your life to the fullest? Are you truly happy? Are you happy with how much time you are spending with your loved ones? Are you providing your children and fur babies their fullest life? Did you hug your people today? Did you show or tell your people how much you love them? How would you change today if you could?

Did you love yourself today? Were you patient and kind to yourself? How did you grow today? What is it that you need from you to feel full and to provide love to others? Life is short and it keeps getting shorter.

And in true Roscoe fashion – be playful and excited about life. Live in the moment and show as much affection as possible.