Three Years…

Dear Hoop,

This coming Saturday marks three years since your death. Three years of replaying every last conversation we had. Three years of seeing you through my rearview mirror as you buckled up the kids and said good-bye for the last time. Three years of watching you live and breathe in our kids. Three years of questioning your actions. Three years of living with my guilt.

But this year I had decided to ignore the anniversary. I’ve moved on (didn’t you get the memo?). I am happy. I have an amazing life.  I am so fucking balanced that acrobats and accountants are wondering how I do it. (stop laughing, it’s true..mostly.)

Yet somehow you have managed to slip into my subconscious.  Despite my best efforts, you have snuck past my mental roadblocks and have invaded my dreams. For weeks now I’ve been tormented with the most horrendous nightmares that I’ve decided to just stop sleeping all together (The local coffee shops can thank you for the influx in sales).  I won’t go into the gory details (’cause obviously you already know them) but for real… STOP IT!!!!

And I’m not the only one feeling you this week.  Sunday was like all of us were PMSing on steroids.  Even Lucy was hissing at everyone that walked past her.  We didn’t have to mention your name or reveal the impending date but it was there.

Last night at dinner I was casually talking about our upcoming weekend plans when Moxie looked me straight up and said, “but what about Daddy-Day?”

God dammit.

Oh right, D-Day. You remembered.

Deep breath. That’s okay, I do better when I’m not in the elephant’s shadow anyway.

Me: Of course we can do something to remember Dad. Let’s think about some options. But in the meantime, do either of you want to talk about it or do you have any questions?

Her: Well I learned a lot about depression when I wrote my speech and I know that there are lots of kinds of depression so I’m just wondering… what kind of depression did Dad have? I mean.. he didn’t seem depressed?

Me: You mean he didn’t seem sad?

Her: yeah.. how is that depression? Wasn’t he really happy?

*Insert an hour of me rambling on about how you WERE so happy when you were with them and how much you loved playing with them and how all of that happiness was so very real….despite the fact that underneath, you suffered from depression.  Sweet Jesus, I really wish you’d left me a guidebook or at least an FAQ list of how to answer their top 5 questions.

So we made a rough plan to do something to remember you on Sunday (’cause sorry, it’s not all about you and our Saturday is already scheduled).  It will probably involve food.  And it will probably involve some sort of activity where we share stories and send messages to you.  And it may involve some sort of exorcism to get you outta my subconscious.  But we will take some time to remember you.

And rest assured. you continue to be missed. every day. no matter what date it is.




Twitter: @pixiepaperdoll7
Instagram: @pixiepaperdoll


Important Resources (because although I can speak about my own personal experience, I am NOT an expert):

If you are currently supporting a loved one with mental illness, please, seek out expert support.  Find support for your loved one and for yourself.

If YOU are considering suicide at this time, please, I urge you to call a crisis line in your area.


related previously posted:

Dear Jerk.

Dear Jerk (6 months later)

Stigma Fighters

Approaching Doomsday

Unicorns – by Moxie





Hurrah! At last I’m 40!

*Preface: As I write this, I feel all of my 40 years. I took off on my bike to find a quiet place to write and my knees are super achy from my (very rare these days) morning run + 3 days of gardening (yes, I was delighted to spend my May long weekend at home playing in dirt and plants).  Also, I had to choose a place to write that was close enough to home that I could get back for when, inevitably, I have to pee (I’m partly blaming childbirth on this one!)


A new Decade.

I like the sound of that.

It’s not that my 30s were terrible. There were some definite highlights:

I gave birth to my 2nd child, Moxie and have immensely enjoyed spending this past decade with her and her older brother, Rain. 

I traveled. I had developed the desire to travel (alone) when I was 26 and spent almost 3 months with my backpack throughout Guatemala, Honduras and Belize.  In my 30s, I explored more of the region in Costa Rica (10 day adventure tour) and Nicaragua (a week of scuba diving on my favourite place in the world, Little Corn Island).  I embarked on a supa-dupa-triple-fun solo road trip throughout the Maritimes and landed in Fredericton at my besties Beth and Joe’s wedding.  Speaking of road-trips, I drove the kids from Mississauga across Canada to Vancouver Island and then down to Seattle.  We met up with great friends and a family along the way.  (Kim, Dottie, Tim, Joel, Andrew, Leanne, Carmanah, Tuna, guard dogs, chickens, and Jill – thanks for opening your homes and hearts to us) It was a trip of a lifetime!

I distinctly remember turning 30 (which I guess I should, it’s only been 10 years..and 40’s not *that* old..). I was 7 months pregnant and living a life that fit me like a beautiful wool turtleneck. It looked so perfect from the outside but inside it felt uncomfortable and constricting. It didn’t fit and it was unraveling.

Two years later, I was a single mom. I had made a decision to leave 95% of all my friends and belongings so that I could start again. 

If my previous life had been a sweater, this new phase was like running around topless. It felt free and terrifying and yet I was suddenly quite comfortable in my own skin.

I had no idea what I was doing and I made a ridiculous amount of mistakes (daily).

But I was doing it. On my own. With my kids. We were a team. We were Team Adventurers!

Just as things were becoming familiar and comfortable, we lost their father to suicide. This shifted all of our journeys in life. It still does. 

Last year, I started dating K and we quickly decided to join families in Peterborough. The kids and I needed a change and I liked the idea of what Peterborough had to offer as a small, artsy community (confession: The first time I ever visited Peterborough was when K and I signed our lease. I tend to move through life on gut feelings.)  So I quit my job and we rented a gorgeous house near the water within walking distance to downtown and easily adapted to our new surroundings.

We all felt completely at home in Ptbo, but combining families is apparently more difficult that I had thought and by the end of 2015, I was a single mom again.  Only this time, I was in a new community, had no job, and was recovering from open hernia surgery.

This is when I start running around looking for that sweater again.

Thankfully, I didn’t find it.  

And thankfully, I am surrounded by amazing friends and family (old and new). You all deserve gold stars in supportive friendmanship.

Since then, I have gained employment (though my contract is up next month, if anyone has any leads…), purchased our home (thanks for your help Mom and Dad), and started dating K again. .. only slower.

The kids are thriving and I am in love with showing them small community ways of life (I was raised in a community of 2,600 so Ptbo is more in line with my roots).

Life is good.

This is exactly how I want to start my 40s.

Now I feel like I should offer some sort of old age wisdom…… Or is that what you do when you turn 50?

Let me share some of the things I’ve learned (the hard way), particularly in my 30s.

  • Break up with word “should”. Do not believe that you should have to act, think, feel, dress a certain way. If that sweater doesn’t fit, take it off. And don’t get caught up in what should or shouldn’t happen. Trust me, they happen.  Or they don’t. That’s just it.
  • You are only responsible for your own happiness. Be kind. Be respectful. Be responsible for your actions. But don’t obsess over the happiness of others. You are not responsible for the happiness of your friends, colleagues, random people you meet on the street, your family and not even your kids. Happiness is an inside gig and they will have to figure it out on their own. Just as you will have to do the same. Do what makes you happy.
  • Enjoy your own company. Yearn for it. Make it a priority. Make friends with the voice inside your head. She’s pretty dang cool. And this voice will stay with you and keep you company for the rest of your days.

Music break!

“If I get old I’m living easy

Find a nice old country home.

Let the land do what she wants to

Leave her wild and overgrown.

And when I’m sure my days are numbered,

Find a nice place in the fields.

And thank that little voice inside my head

For such great company.”

~Elliott Brood, If I get Old

  • Be real with yourself.  Life is not perfect nor does it have to look that way. It’s messy and gorgeous and sometimes a lot of the time, it’s really fucking hard. Experience every emotion unapologetically. And don’t trust people who are always telling you to smile.
  • Lastly, make goals. And as cheese bread as it sounds, write them down. This is where I struggle. I can think of hundreds of things I want to do but putting it to paper scares the bejeebers out of me. I used to think that it was because I had commitment issues. (I even wrote about them: And maybe that’s partly true. I have also blamed my limited attention span – squirrel!! But I think I’m most afraid of fucking up. What if I never get to check it off the list? What if I fail? I mean, I guess I could write new/revised goals…but what would my journal think??  *Sigh… My goal for my 40s is to write down my goals.

So that’s it – thanks for being part of my new decade celebration – let’s go for a drink sometime! But for now….. I have to pee!!!




Approaching Doomsday

A couple weeks ago, one of the kids asked me how long it had been since…you know.. Daddy… I said that we were coming up to 2 years.

“What’s the date?”

“May 6th”

“I don’t want that day to come. I don’t want it to be another year without him.”

From that point on, it’s been referred to as Doomsday.

We must all have been subconsciously thinking about this upcoming anniversary. A couple nights before this conversation, I dreamt about you for the 1st time in ages. You were waiting for us at the arena for Rain’s hockey game.  The kids and I had been excited to see you again (yes, even me) after so long.  We were anxious to hear about your extended vacation.  You greeted us with the same big goofy smile you always had for the kids. Then I woke up. 4:01am and I was wide awake and shaken.  In efforts to fall back asleep I thought about the day’s events (trying to ground myself in reality). Suddenly I wondered if I’d remembered to turn off the BBQ after dinner. I tried to assure myself that I had of course turned it off, I always do. But then came thoughts that maybe you had come to me in a dream as a warning (so much for reality). You had come to save us from an impending explosion – you *are* supposed to be our guardian angel, right?  As I grappled with varying degrees of reality, my tossing and turning woke up Keith who graciously went downstairs and outside to confirm that the BBQ had indeed been turned off.  Nothing to worry about.  Good to know you continue to be more jack-ass than angel.

Even still, it was kinda nice to see you again. Next time stay longer. There are things I’d like to say to you (in person, not just those conversations in my head).

We’ve sort of adapted to this new normal..but let me assure you…it still sucks.  I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to write, Rain and Moxie’s dad is deceased on various forms. And it sucks. Every time.

And while the kids are growing up to be such incredibly thoughtful, imaginative, gorgeous souls, they are also now processing and thinking about your death in an older and more complex way.

They’re looking to me to help them answer questions that I can’t even understand.

Why didn’t Daddy talk to someone about his feelings and ask for help?

It’s ironic that your anniversary falls within Mental Health Awareness week.  I know that I should be out there promoting the shit of out this..and usually I do. But right now it’s like everywhere I look, I’m reminded of your death and the days/months/years leading up to it.  And I want to scream every time I see that hashtag #GETLOUD

I’ll get loud alright…

Mental illness is BULLSHIT !!!

Suicide is BULLSHIT !!

Your death is BULLSHIT !!

Me having to deal with all of this is BULLSHIT !!

The kids having to deal with all of this is even more BULLSHIT !!

Those late night tear-stained conversations are the most bullshit of all……..

I hate that you’re missing so much of their lives. And I hate that they’re missing having you in it.

You continue to be missed. You continue to be loved. And we will remember you and honour you on Doomsday when it arrives. But right now, I think this is bullshit and I’m going to #GETLOUD about it.





Unicorns – by Moxie

On Monday morning, first day of March Break, I was in the bathtub getting ready for the day when Moxie (my 9 year old) came in and sat on the floor beside me.

“Mom, I wrote this thing a while ago but just decided that I wanted to share it with you,”

In my head I was thinking that I needed to rush through my bath so that I could get ready for work and get her and her brother packed up and off to the bus station so they could spend the week with their grandparents. But instead of putting her off I said, “Sure Moxie, I’d love to hear what what you wrote.”

and thank goodness because this is what I got:

“Many people don’t believe in unicorns. They say there is no evidence so they are not real. I personally believe in this majestic beast, but real or not, they are a sign of hope. My family has had a difficult past but even so, the hope that lies in us is much stronger than the grief inside us.”  ~ Moxie Hooper (age 9)


Needless to say that as soon as she mentioned our ‘difficult past’ (what a diplomatic way to say her Dad took his life), I was incredibly thankful that the steam from the bath disguised my teary eyes.

I asked her if I could share this on the Team Adventurers blog and she agreed (as long as I fixed the spelling) .

There is not much I need nor want to add to this other than,

you should always:

  • believe in majestic beasts and,
  • never lose faith

because “the hope that lies in us is much stronger than the grief inside us.”




(and Moxie)



#BellLetstalk Day (2016)

It’s #BellLetsTalk Day (2016) and instead of writing another full post about how mental health has impacted our family, I’ll let my previous writing speak for itself.

Regardless of whether you become involved in this campaign, I do encourage everyone to keep talking about mental health.  I wish I had insisted on more of those conversations. As difficult as they would have been, they would have been easier than the conversations I’ve had to have with Rain and Moxie since Jason’s death. Not to mention the conversations I’ve had to have with myself.

Stigma Fighters – my story

Dear Jerk

Dear Jerk (6 months later)

Happy Birthday Jason

Happy Birthday Jason (2015)

The Black Dog

In the words of Bob Dylan, Play it Fu**ing Loud!

Hoop’s Memorial Hockey Game

My Life with (and without) kids. Before and After.

#BellLetsTalk Day (2015)

Fantastic (Canadian) videos in support of mental health awareness:

Amelia Curran – You Are Not Alone

Brian Byrne – I miss you most – The Arizona Project

Keep talking. You are not alone.






Hoop’s Memorial Hockey Game

Last night Team Adventurers were thrilled to attend a Memorial Hockey game.  Rain and Moxie’s Dad (Hoop) has some amazing friends who put together an impressive show and after party in his honour.  The proceeds (a whopping $4,466) are to be transferred to a trust fund for Rain and Moxie.

To make the evening even more special, they invited Rain on the ice with them.  He got his gear on in the dressing room with the big guys, participated in their warm up (getting pep talks from seasoned goalies) and at intermission there was a shoot-out with him in net.  This was as entertaining as it was emotional; for those of us in the stands as well as those on the ice.  There is no doubt that Rain felt his dad with him on that ice surface.  (ps if anyone has video of the stick clap that echoed through the rink as Rain took his place in net, I’d love to get a copy!)

Shoot Out Video 1

Shoot Out Video 2

Shoot Out Video 3

Shoot Out Love Video

When Jason took his life last May, he would never have anticipated this type of an event.  However, he would not be surprised to know that his friends and family have been so supportive and caring to each other and to Rain and Moxie.  Jason knew how to surround himself with wonderful people.  This event was everything he loved: hockey, friends, family, Rain and Moxie, post hockey drinks and love.  I know he was there.  I know he was proud.

Moxie and Rain had written a speech but last minute (and very understandable) stage fright prompted me to recite the speech on their behalf.  Here it is to read at your leisure:

Moxie & Rain's Speech.  Sharing memories feels good.

Moxie & Rain’s Speech. Sharing memories feels good.

And since everyone has been sharing their stories, I thought I’d share about Hoop’s first night playing with these boys (circa 2001 – approximately).

He was so incredibly nervous.  And so incredibly excited.  Despite having played Junior B as a teenager, it had been years since he tied up his laces.  In efforts to practice and gain confidence he dressed me up in his gear (EW!!), propped me up in the kitchen and fired shots at me until he felt ready for the big boys.

Thankfully he passed his try out and I didn’t need to block any more shots (Rain definitely does not get his goalie skills from me).  This was just the beginning of some amazing friendships.

So thank-you.  Thank-you to the organizers, thank-you to the playas, thank-you to all who came to support this event in person (a HUGE shout out to all of Rain’s hockey buds who came to cheer him on – love to Erindale), and thank-you to everyone who could not be there in person but demonstrated their support via messages and donations from afar.  All of your love was noticed and much appreciated.

Cheers – to friends, to love, to life.


Team Adventurers

Hoop's Memorial Hockey Game - The Playas

Hoop’s Memorial Hockey Game – The Playas

Hoop's Memorial Hockey Game - The Playas (the blue in the background is Rain's ErinDale team who came to support him - thanks lil dudes!)

Hoop’s Memorial Hockey Game – The Playas
(the blue in the background is Rain’s ErinDale team who came to support him – thanks lil dudes!)

Me & Dano (social coordinator extraordinaire!)

Me & Dano (social coordinator extraordinaire!)

Team Aventurers & Tuck (great friend to all of us - thanks for making the trek Tuck!)

Team Aventurers & Tuck (great friend to all of us – thanks for making the trek Tuck!)

Hoop, Rain & Moxie

Hoop, Rain & Moxie

Hoop, Rain & Moxie

Hoop, Rain & Moxie

Hoop, Rain & Moxie

Hoop, Rain & Moxie

My life with (and without) kids. Before and After.

My Life with Kids (ADD – After Daddy Died)

I was looking through some of my older pieces of writing and came upon something that I wrote about a year ago. It speaks of my weekends alone when the kids would go to their Dad’s house and how they sometimes resembled that of a teenager whose parents had left them home alone. I was feeling stretched by the responsibilities and pressures in my life but these alternate weekends kept me balanced and (somewhat) sane.

Oh how life can change in a year. As with most aspects of our lives, this too has been divided into BDD (Before Daddy Died) and ADD (After Daddy Died). Alternate weekend shuffling is a distant memory and consequently, my balance has shifted. And it continues to shift.

When Jason first died, Rain and Moxie kept me in their sights at all times. We were inseparable. We all slept in the same bed for the first couple months because sleep became a larger priority than the risk of setting up bad habits. Rain and Moxie clung to me. And understandably so. Their innocence was lost. They knew that a parent could die. Suddenly. Without any warning. And no amount of reassuring could (or should) settle their concerns. As the weeks turned to months, we gradually introduced the occasional sleepover with extended family but it felt different for all of us.

One night last December, I couldn’t get to their afterschool childcare program in time to pick them up due to a snow storm. After a scramble I reached a family friend who went to fetch them.   As much as I was relieved, Rain told me later that night that when he saw her at the door he was terrified that something had happened to me. I saw that mix of terror and relief in his eyes that entire night. I have since rearranged my work schedule to better ensure that this will not happen again.

In efforts to help them feel safe, I did what any other parent would do – I put my entire life on hold. I stopped dating. I stopped seeing friends. I stopped running. I stopped expecting a clean house. The kids made changes too. They held bigger responsibilities at home to help out. They came with me for all of my errands and didn’t complain. They matured, overnight. We held an understanding that we were a team and we supported each other immensely. This is one thing that hasn’t changed for us.

I told myself that I was doing this for them. That I was pausing my social life and declining offers from friends for Rain and Moxie, because they needed me close to them. But then, a couple moths ago I realized that I had been clinging to them just as much as they were to me. I needed them. And I needed them close to me. I was more shaken by Jason’s death that I was willing to admit and needed them to help stabilize my life, my mind, my being.   And I don’t know how I could have gotten through this without them.

We are now coming close to a year without Jason. A year without alternate weekends. A year of almost constant togetherness.

Our lives and balance continue to change. I am dating again and he is a positive influence and support to all of us. He didn’t even mind that in the first 3 months of dating we only had 1 actual date out of the house without kids.

Rain and Moxie are more accepting of babysitters and time away from home. Rain even goes on sleepovers with his friends.

In fact, the kids have just arrived back home after spending 8 days at their grandparents – 8 entire days!! They’ve been back home about 24 hours and we’ve not left each other’s sights since (including a big family snuggle in bed this morning) but it is reassuring to know that we can spend time apart and still feel safe. All of us.

And so our journey continues as we continue to grow .. to shift .. to function as a team; together and apart.

My life without kids (BDD – Before Daddy Died)

It’s taken me five years but I have mastered the art of saying good-bye to my kids on alternate weekends when they go to their Dad’s. Mothers are trained to never publically admit that they are okay with (and possibly even giddy about) separating from their offspring. And if they do dare to FB status this moment, there is an unspoken pressure to preface it with ‘I love my kids but…’ That was probably me when I started this journey. But these days I wish the children a fun time and we head our separate ways; each of us excited for our upcoming adventures. And if you look closely, you might even notice a bit of a spring in my step, as I take off on my own.

Once home, I crack open my traditional ‘kids are gone beer’ and take a minute to breathe in the silence. Then I clean the house from top to bottom. There is something magical about cleaning the house knowing it will stay clean for more than five minutes.

Despite this responsible start, my life without children quickly resembles my teenage life when my parent’s would head out of town.

I swear. Out loud. I watch R-rated movies in the middle of the day, sometimes in my underwear. I eat dinner at midnight. My food groups become: 1) take-out 2) cold leftovers 3) coffee and, 4) alcohol. It takes me an entire weekend to fill ½ the dishwasher. I have friends over. I have friends sleep over. I date. Often. I have long leisurely baths in the afternoon. I come up with any reason at all to leave the house after dark. Walmart at midnight feels exotic. I work overtime. But not as much overtime as I think I will. I spend an entire morning organizing the linen closet just because I can. I meet friends for cocktails at 2 o’clock in the afternoon. And meet other friends for coffee at midnight. Who lives like this? Those who can sleep in. That’s who. And yes, I sleep in.   I actually get really good at it.

But then without fail, the day they are due home I am incredibly restless. I take one last look at the clean house and I arrive at our ½ way meeting spot an hour early. I enjoy a final leisurely stroll through Shoppers Drug Mart while sipping one more Sunday evening cappuccino. I get butterflies as soon as I see their dad’s car pull into his usual spot. I squeeze them as they shuffle between cars, even when my son continues to play his DS over my shoulder. I keep the radio off all the way home so we can chat about their weekend adventures or just so I can listen to the two of them share stories and giggle in the backseat. Of course the house is a disaster within five minutes of them being home and I will no longer be able to sleep as long or swear as loudly but my world just seems right again…until the next weekend.