I'm so very delighted and proud to hold the latest anthology featuring my writing in my hands: LIFE AFTER LOSS: REFLECTIONS ON MOMENTS OF GRACE AND COURAGE IN GRIEF, officially dropping today worldwide!

Published by Wintertickle Press, a Canadian independent house, and edited by the incomparably lovely Catherine Kenwell, it already has its first review! "Raw, poignant, and wonderfully engaging" (The Prairies Book Review). I'm honoured that two of my  creative nonfiction pieces, "My Divorce House" and "Plot Twist," have found a home in this important and timeless book.


​We have all experienced loss and grief in our lives, in many different forms. Whether it's the death of a loved one, the sting of a job loss, the breakdown of a relationship, leaving home, or letting go of a long-held dream or version of our future, this human experience touches and unites us all.
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Thank you so much to Catherine for inviting me to be part of this touching collection of essays and making all the editing magic happen. Heather Thomas, you have published a truly beautiful book that will help so many people feel seen. Patricia Morris MacDonald, thank you for copyediting this project with such care. I am also so grateful to be amongst such a supportive and cool group of contributors!
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If you're interested in immersing yourself in a moving array of creative nonfiction essays that are both eloquent and uplifting, consider making LIFE AFTER LOSS your next read.
Order today or consider gifting a copy to someone you know who would benefit from reading these healing words!

Order it here! https://shorturl.at/Gm6EH

Available on Amazon worldwide.

Today I saw my words published in print in not one, but TWO bookshops! What a BIG dream to come true for me! In the first Indigo/Chapters I visited today, I ran into my ultra-cool high school English teacher and his lovely wife. It made me realize again how many wonderful people have inspired me and encouraged me to keep writing over the years.
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I'm so thrilled and grateful to be part of such a positive and exciting experience! It has given me greater self-confidence as a writer and as a woman, and a fierce determination to keep reaching for the stars!

If you're interested in purchasing BIG, here's how:

Amazon
https://www.amazon.ca/Big-Stories-about-Plus-S…/…/1773860216
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Chapters/Coles/Indigo
https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/…/bi…/9781773860213-item.html
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Caitlin Press
Caitlin-Press.com/our-books/big
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If you're in the U.S., you can preorder on:
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Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/Big-Stories-about-Plus-Sized-Bodi…/…/
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Barnes and Noble
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https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/big-christina-…/1132740881…
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And for those who prefer the independents, Powell's in Portland has it:
https://www.powells.com/book/-9781773860213…
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And If you're in the UK, you can preorder on:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Big-Stories-about-Plu…/…/ref=sr_1_2?

Have you ever wandered through the world
and wondered why you're here?
 
I wish I knew. But this little girl is my tether today.
A teacher wrapped up in a four-year-old's body.
And she's pulling me through.
 
As for our troubles, let's just let them float away,
like party balloons set free,
​no longer weighted down by sadness.
 
We don't need to anchor our fear anymore.
Let the sky claim all our anxieties.
Let the sun's rays calm our souls.
 
Because you and me,
we don't always have to be waiting
for the next axe to fall.
 
Hurt will happen, but we can still find pockets
of beauty and whimsy in this treasure hunt of life,
if we look closely.
 
We need to shed our shells and masks
and stop fighting ourselves.
 
We come from star-stuff, my supernova,
and we are good enough to be here and take up space,
just as we are.
 
So let's forget about our power struggles over breakfast,
and eat more rainbow ice cream instead.
Let's stop worrying about everything we cannot control
inside and out there, and just take solace
in colouring a beautiful picture together.
 
We can navigate the blues
with pinks and yellows and purples,
I promise.
 
The strands of our hearts have been braided together
and intertwined with unconditional love since
well before you took residence in my womb.
 
Butting heads on a daily basis won't break our bond.
Either will me taking to my bed.
 
The pain is not permanent, little one, for either of us.
Soon I will let mine go, just like those colourful birthday balloons
that slip out of our fingers when we're not looking,
and move quickly and quietly into the sky.

So I did it. Last night I gathered my courage, and the words I'd written about my mental health journey, and I set them free at the Beam On exhibit in a room inside the Old Town Hall in Newmarket. Surrounded by beautiful artwork, I added my voice to the visual manifestations of mental illness. And I was heard.
 
It's one thing to share your story on the screen, to send it out into the internet ether and let your words speak for themselves. It's a whole other world when you get up in front of a microphone and let people peek at your heart for six minutes straight. But I did it, and I couldn’t be more proud of my role as a mental health advocate. I met so many lovely, encouraging souls last evening, and it meant the world to have my favourite people on the planet in the audience. Thank you to my mum, dad and sister for showing up for me, like they always do.
 
When my husband first suggested we bring our four-year-old daughter, Eve, to the event, I wasn't sure. Would she be bored? Would there be any other kids there? Would it run past her bedtime? But Michael didn't care about any of that. He simply wanted Eve to see her mama being brave and giving a talk that might help some other people.
 
There are so many days when I feel like a parent on the sidelines, not participating in things because of fluctuating moods or chronic pain, so it felt wonderful for me to show her what I CAN do, for a change. How I can contribute to an important conversation, raise awareness and show people what it looks like to survive a collision with mental illness. How it's possible come out of the darkness to the other side and tell your story as part of the healing process.
 
My favourite part of the night was when I finished my speech. As soon as the audience started applauding, my darling girl excitedly ran up to me and presented me with a single flower. Later on, Michael told me she what she whispered to him afterward: "Mama did a good job of not being shy in front of all those people." As compliments go, I'll take it.

Give these lip balms to my daughter
whose mouth she got from her father
Let her take these everyday treasures
she coveted from her mother's dresser
for there will come a day soon when
she will no longer want my possessions

Loan her the statue of Tara, the mother of all Buddhas
that I crossed paths with in Union Square
Let my namesake's compassion and feminine wisdom
seep into the deepest part of her childish heart 
as she sleeps tucked up in dreams
with her blanket half-on, half-off

Hand over the sketch of a forever family
to the little being who stretched two into three
Let her be reminded of love's eternal hold
and how it never lets go, no matter 
how many times we bump heads and bruise hearts
before breakfast

Bestow the patterned box of tissues
for all those blue tears and excruciating moments 
she won't feel good enough in her bones 
despite her parents' assurances that she is
everything beauty could aspire to and 
both the cosmos and universe to us

​I can get by with a sparse nightstand
an Ikea lamp, a perfume bottle and wedding bands for my hand
but I will hang on to the good mother sticker
and remember to pack it up when we move on
keeping it safe for when my daughter has a daughter
and she needs a daily reminder of her own

We moved to Yonge & Finch when I got pregnant. It was the only area in Toronto where we could afford a three-bedroom apartment, and we needed more space for the baby.

We weren't really familiar with the neighbourhood before renting there. I was lucky to have a good friend living across the road to show me the local gems. Most of our neighbours were Korean or Chinese, or Persian. It was a different world from trendy Yonge & Eglinton, but it woke us up and made us appreciate the United Nations of people we were living amongst. It felt odd to be the minority, but important to experience it at the same time.

Things stick out: Everybody smoked. On the streets. Hanging over balconies. There were lots of false fire alarms in our building. And loads of karaoke bars and great places to eat. They're all still there, of course, but now they're somehow tainted. Marred by what looks to be the hand of terrorism, whether it's a lone wolf or someone tied to a bigger organization.

A place doesn't stay the same once it's been on the news for the wrong reasons.

We lived right behind Yonge Street, a minute or two walk from where the first victim was found. I can't count the number of times I waited at that intersection to cross the street and grab the subway and go to work. The Starbucks at the bottom of the Xerox building was my caffeine home. It was also my haven, especially when I took mat leave way too early.

It's surreal to see your old hood on TV, on stations like CNN and BBC. We lived there for two years and eventually moved on, but Eve spent the first 18 months of her life there. It's where I went into labour at 3:00 am. It's where we took her home from the hospital.

It was our first real home as a family, even if we didn't own the walls or appliances. We loved the little park beside our place. The community centre. The stroll down to Mel Lastman Square on a Friday night in summer. The farmer's market. The relaxed vibe in the air.

I remember vividly the first time I took my newborn daughter out for a walk on my own in the middle of winter. She was dressed in a blue monkey snowsuit and I was terrified to be solely responsible for the little being cradled in my arms. They were shaking so badly. My heart was determined but terrified of bringing her out into the world with me as her only protection. What if something happened?

It was snowing heavily, and I suddenly felt guilty that her little angel face might get wet and cold, so I waited at the intersection and then crossed quickly to the building across the road. The warmth calmed me down immediately, and my breaths came a little slower. After 10 or 15 minutes, I worked up the nerve to leave. I recrossed the road and returned home, having somehow kept my baby alive. It was like a motherhood badge for my soul.

I'll always have fond memories of all our firsts at Yonge & Finch, and my heart goes out to everyone affected by today's tragedy. The horror of it all is keeping my eyes open tonight. As someone who doesn't drive and is a lifelong pedestrian, this type of incident is all the more scary.

I don't often consciously pray or get down on my knees, but right now I think our city and country (and world) need all the positive words and vibes and help we can get. I have to trust that justice will take care of the rest.

Something has to get better, soon. Doesn't it? How can it not? We can no longer live in a world that heaves with this type of everyday carnage and mess. We breathe it in in one city and exhale it out in another. It's an illness. How can we send our babies and children out into it, without their mother's arms, or snowsuits, or anything else to protect them?

When it the next thing happens, will it be to them?

Tonight it feels as if all I have are my anxieties and secret prayers. For the victims, their families, the first responders, the witnesses. The cop who didn't shoot. The mother of the murderer. For someone has to spare a thought for her.

​But mainly I'm praying and sending light and love to Toronto the Good. Because an incident like this can't take our name or our inherent goodness away from us. Something this awful only makes it rise up.