Born From a Tree, Like Most Nuts

Children just keep getting older. And with that age comes more questions. Some of the questions are difficult to answer, like my son asking me about my parents.

He’s going to be seven in 3 months. It’s only natural that after being exposed to his grandparents on his father’s side and the other family on that side that he’d wonder about mine. He’s asked before, but I’ve managed to successfully dodge answering it.

Simply telling him that I do not have parents seems to have worked so far. He asks about my grandparents and to that question I will reply. But I have no parents.

No parents worth talking about.

Why tell my young child about the man who comes in and out of my life like a ghost? The one who I have made the decision to disconnect from because it caused me too much heartache to watch him father other children? He has not been a father to me for longer than he has been a father. He has a new family now and I want to be happy for him and support him. I fear that my constant need for validation would only cause him pain, so to him I have bid good-bye.

Why tell him about the woman who teeters dangerously on the edge of sanity? The woman who had been a great mother until something inside her snapped and everything disintegrated around us? This is not a person who would be a good role model for him: she has nothing to teach him. From her mouth spew lies and suffering. I will not subject him to that.

So I tell my child that I was born from a tree, like most nuts. He’s too young to quite understand how that is funny but it seems to satisfy him when he asks.

I want to tell him of my family; of his heritage. How his great-grandparents grew up in British ruled India and went to boarding school. How we are Anglo-Indian and that’s why we look so white. Of the reason his mother loves rice and parathas. How his grandparents flew from India to England, and then took a boat from England to Canada. How his great-grandparents on the paternal side of me weren’t really in the picture, but seemed to have an awkward kindness about them. How disconnected I have always been from that side of my life. How he has an uncle who would probably spoil him to pieces although that uncle probably doesn’t even know he exists because of poor decisions on everyone’s part.

These things I can tell him once he grows; once he is ready to listen and perhaps understand.


Posted by Sarah Jayne in Rantings, 0 comments

Mindful Musings #175

Mindful Musings

You’re growing up, child.

Your hand slips away from mine

And your loud, boisterous voice

Carries you away.

Every day, every year

You become more of a person

Than when you were the tiny bundle

That would only sleep in my arms.

Bittersweet emotions wash over me

As the joy of watching you grow up

Mingles with the sadness of you leaving.

We’ve still got many years ahead

Of embarrassing Mum episodes

And teenage rebellion.

I’ll cherish these moments

When I’m still your number one.


Posted by Sarah Jayne in Musings, 0 comments

Give Me Freedom

Parenting is hard.

It’s true that every generation faces their own hurdles that they need to overcome to align with what society says is ‘good parenting’.

I’m finding it difficult to allow myself to allow my kids to have fun without being judged.

Thanks to social media and the ability to spread news farther and faster than ever before it sounds like a horrible world out there. Gratefully my kids are 6 and 2.5 so we’re kind of okay right now. But there are things I would have done as a child that I’ll be damned I let my kids do now for fear of getting arrested or something.

When I was growing up you played outside. You went off and were told to be back by a certain time. I lived pretty rurally in my childhood so what really happened is we were tossed outside and told to go play until you hear someone yelling your name.

And we did.

I explored forests, went on loooong walks, played in burned out buildings (a barn had burned down. Obviously I only went in long after the fire was done), played in an abandoned house and discovered nature. Trees, animals, plants, all kinds of things were in my domain. Came back to the house for meals and then was off.

Granted I don’t remember these times in my life too well because there was a lot of stress and trauma happening at the same time. But I do remember the freedom.

If I were to let my 6 year old play in my fenced, relatively danger-free backyard, alone, I’d probably get arrested.

Which sucks.

I also live in town which is weird for me. I don’t know what to do with kids when you live in town. I didn’t live in a town until I was in my early teens so to have a 6 year old who is just begging to be released into the wilds and run around fields and having no place to do that is a task I’m dealing with.

Kids don’t come with manuals and we have to go by what our parents showed us as kids. If you didn’t have great parents or if there were things about your childhood you hated and you want to change, parenting is even that much more foreign to you.

But I can be taught. There are places I can take my kid and let him roam. There are activities he can do and enjoy the outdoors as much as I did.


Posted by Sarah Jayne in Rantings, 6 comments

Mindful Musings #68

Mindful Musings

The inky darkness is disturbed by your cry.

Roused from my sleep I wander

Half-awake into your room.

Your cries of unhappiness ring in my ears.

What could it be this time?

A change? You’ve lost your blanket? A bad dream?

Whatever the reason I will attend to you.

Return you to your cozy dreamland

Before staggering back to mine.

When the morning comes

Your bright, clear eyes

Will shine your happiness

While mine betray my sleepiness.

But I could never be mad.

You’re still so tiny, you need me so much.



Don’t grow up too fast.

Posted by Sarah Jayne in Musings, 0 comments

Mindful Musings #56

Mindful Musings

Oh, little one. 

I know the fear is great

And the anxiety is high.

Oh, little one.

I know the life you lead

Is full of barriers and trials.

Oh, little one.

I know you feel

That you are not enough.

That you can not surmount.

That you will fail.

Oh, little one.

If you cannot believe in yourself

Believe in those who

Believe in you.

Posted by Sarah Jayne in Musings, 0 comments

What Makes You Happy?

I recently received a care package from my in-laws *cough*theyarewaybetterthanyours*cough*.

It is clear that they really know who I am after being married to their son for seven years. In the care package was candy for my husband (he’s got a mega sweet tooth) and for me there were two bags of chips (YEEEES!) and a container of Decafe Tetley tea.

Have I mentioned I love tea?

I have tea every day. EVERY. DAY. I feel sometimes if I didn’t have it I would melt into a puddle and disappear! Maybe that’s the sign of an addiction problem but I don’t think it’s any worse than what most people feel about coffee.

Tea holds a special place in my heart. Not only is it a warm drink that I can enjoy it reminds me of family gatherings and certain family members.

My background is Anglo-Indian. My maternal grandparents were born and raised in India and they attended British boarding school. They only speak English. They are all shades of brown. My grandmother and I would say that we are not white, we’re beige! It actually offends me when someone calls me white. While I am very pale in comparison to some of my relatives (my father is such a white Canadian he glows in the dark hahahaha) I don’t consider myself to be only white.

Growing up in this culture of curry and tea has cemented certain feelings and expectations within me. We would spend any conceivable holiday at my grandparents. There was always tea. As a grandchild it was part of my job to ensure everyone had a cup of tea and to make it how they liked it. This got pretty complicated during big festivities like Christmas and Easter when extended family and friends of my grandparents would come for a visit.

When I lived with my grandparents I was in my late teens and would drink tea more often. I had been drinking regular orange pekoe tea for a long time, but living with them meant I had it multiple times a day. Even now I scour the grocery store to find the brand that they used.

It’s a comfort for me, then, to drink tea. I drink it when I’m stressed; I drink it when I need a pick-me-up in the morning.

When my grandmother passed away I was able to get one of the cup and saucer sets I always used when I was at their house. It sits on a shelf right now because I don’t want to break it. I’m considering putting a small plant in it once I redo my office. Otherwise it’s just collecting dust.

This is what makes me happy. What makes you happy?



Posted by Sarah Jayne in Rantings, 1 comment

Is This Freedom?

I feel I owe  you all a bit of an explanation.

Lately, my biological mother has found my corner of the internet. I’ve had this site for almost 3 years and she recently found me through my author page on Facebook.

My mother and I haven’t always had a terrible relationship. She is my mother, after all. I feel as though at one point she was  happy of that fact. Regardless of what she chooses to believe, things went sour in my early teens and they’ve never recovered.

The past week and a half I have been dealing with her sending horrible comments on my site. I banned her from my Facebook page and it looks like she finally stopped liking it. You can remove likes, by the way. It became a daily thing. This morning, she has not re-liked my page, and I feel a sensation of relief wash over me.

This whole situation has had me on edge. In one comment she is railing against me; calling me a liar, telling me that she is going to report me (to who and for what, I’m not sure). Then she comments that she’ll be driving through my province and wants to know if I want a visit.

These are all classic signs of abuse. I want people to realize that not all parents love their children; not all parents treat their children well. I have spent years of my life being afraid of her; afraid of her moods and her actions. Did she beat me? Not physically. We did have a few physical fights but it’s not like I was bruised. It’s the mental and emotional abuse that is far stronger and more difficult to overcome. I haven’t lived with her since I was 18 and I still have issues getting over all of it.

I want you, my readers, to be aware of the signs of abuse. This infographic was borrowed from the following site: MAHENDRA KUMAR TRIVEDI : TRANSFORM YOUR LIFE WITH THE SCIENCE OF MIRACLES


While this infographic refers to romantic relationships, all of these points are valid for child/parent relationships as well. The only point my mother didn’t do on a regular basis was controlling who I met and some of my social activity. Every single other point is spot on for how I grew up. Even now, 14 years later, she is still doing these things. I did not allow her comments through because they were extremely hurtful, bordered on harassment, and let’s face it: this is the internet. I didn’t want to start a war.

I am hoping this is the last post I have to write about this. I don’t want to spend any more energy on her negativity and I want to be able to get back into writing about my family and my newest WIP, TAK.

Thank you for sticking with me. Sorry it’s been a bit weird. This may be freedom. I am going to take it!

Posted by Sarah Jayne in Rantings, 0 comments