Lara Margaret Marjerrison's Blog
January 6, 2021
"Life takes guts. I love your guts."
"It's a big responsibility, living."
My mum said that.
And it stuck.
Firstly, because she was the one to say it. My mum isn’t known for her love of tough conversations. Small talk she can do. But for her to go deep like this, to risk opening the conversation up to the stuff that she’d usually avoid like a hot coal on bare hands was a huge deal.
And the second reason it stuck? She was just so undeniably right; it is a big responsibility, living.
I was a child who was beaten, a teenager who was bullied and raped, a 20-something who struggled with substance abuse and a toxic relationship. Pretty much a textbook case for psychiatry.
As an adult, I lost a sister to suicide. My mum lost a daughter. She’d nearly lost me too...that time in my 20s when I tried. There’s a long history of trauma in my family.
So yes, she knows — and I know — that living is a huge responsibility. That it can feel like a burden. That it can be beyond painful at times.
And yet…here I am, so passionately alive.
My own suicide attempt, and living through it, was THE MOMENT for me. Waking up with charcoal vomit all over my face (from having my stomach pumped), fifteen stitches in my wrist, and my family staring back at me utterly dismayed — that was my defining moment.
But it wasn’t just the moment I decided I didn’t want to die. It's the moment I decided I wanted to live. REALLY live.
And that takes guts. It took guts for me. And it’ll take guts for you too.
Because bad things will happen. Life will be fucking hard. Things, people, certainties you thought you could rely on will turn to smoke. But believe me when I say, you can tend to yourself, and find out how to stand up straight in the midst of it. Every day you can decide you want to live, passionately, fully, freely.
In my case, the thing that destroyed me was also the thing that set me free. Twice. The first time, I tried to destroy myself…and it set me free. My sister’s suicide destroyed me, before it set me on another path.
I want this process to be easier for you.
So I want to acknowledge — right now — the guts it took you to get out of bed this morning. I love you for those guts. I love you for being yourself. I love you as you are.
Because you already know who you are. Who you’re meant to be. You already know what you want to do.
And through it all, I will be your beacon. And if I'm the only one, I will still be here. If I can keep you alive, and if I'm the only one who can, I will be here.
So make your art. Create music. Write poetry. Paint houses. Fix cars. Whatever it is. Forget who the world wants you to be, because it’s undoubtedly wrong. What the world really needs is for you to be…you.
It is a big responsibility — living. It takes guts. And that’s exactly what you have.
I write about all this stuff and more in grief & loss & love & sex and $2.00 from every sold at Indigo, Chapters and Coles locations, and on indigo.ca from January 28 to February 28, 2021, will go to the Canadian Mental Health Association, a national community mental health organization.*
Cool right?
I really do love your guts.
L.xo.
Purchase your copy here: Grief & Loss & Love & Sex
::
*No part of the purchase price may be deducted as a charitable contribution.
My mum said that.
And it stuck.
Firstly, because she was the one to say it. My mum isn’t known for her love of tough conversations. Small talk she can do. But for her to go deep like this, to risk opening the conversation up to the stuff that she’d usually avoid like a hot coal on bare hands was a huge deal.
And the second reason it stuck? She was just so undeniably right; it is a big responsibility, living.
I was a child who was beaten, a teenager who was bullied and raped, a 20-something who struggled with substance abuse and a toxic relationship. Pretty much a textbook case for psychiatry.
As an adult, I lost a sister to suicide. My mum lost a daughter. She’d nearly lost me too...that time in my 20s when I tried. There’s a long history of trauma in my family.
So yes, she knows — and I know — that living is a huge responsibility. That it can feel like a burden. That it can be beyond painful at times.
And yet…here I am, so passionately alive.
My own suicide attempt, and living through it, was THE MOMENT for me. Waking up with charcoal vomit all over my face (from having my stomach pumped), fifteen stitches in my wrist, and my family staring back at me utterly dismayed — that was my defining moment.
But it wasn’t just the moment I decided I didn’t want to die. It's the moment I decided I wanted to live. REALLY live.
And that takes guts. It took guts for me. And it’ll take guts for you too.
Because bad things will happen. Life will be fucking hard. Things, people, certainties you thought you could rely on will turn to smoke. But believe me when I say, you can tend to yourself, and find out how to stand up straight in the midst of it. Every day you can decide you want to live, passionately, fully, freely.
In my case, the thing that destroyed me was also the thing that set me free. Twice. The first time, I tried to destroy myself…and it set me free. My sister’s suicide destroyed me, before it set me on another path.
I want this process to be easier for you.
So I want to acknowledge — right now — the guts it took you to get out of bed this morning. I love you for those guts. I love you for being yourself. I love you as you are.
Because you already know who you are. Who you’re meant to be. You already know what you want to do.
And through it all, I will be your beacon. And if I'm the only one, I will still be here. If I can keep you alive, and if I'm the only one who can, I will be here.
So make your art. Create music. Write poetry. Paint houses. Fix cars. Whatever it is. Forget who the world wants you to be, because it’s undoubtedly wrong. What the world really needs is for you to be…you.
It is a big responsibility — living. It takes guts. And that’s exactly what you have.
I write about all this stuff and more in grief & loss & love & sex and $2.00 from every sold at Indigo, Chapters and Coles locations, and on indigo.ca from January 28 to February 28, 2021, will go to the Canadian Mental Health Association, a national community mental health organization.*
Cool right?
I really do love your guts.
L.xo.
Purchase your copy here: Grief & Loss & Love & Sex
::
*No part of the purchase price may be deducted as a charitable contribution.
January 29, 2020
#Let'sTalk
Two years ago this morning I woke up to the news of my sister's suicide. My world was rocked off its axis and, as yet, hasn't fully recovered from the devastating blow. I suspect there will never be a full recovery, only adaptations to what some like to refer to as the "new normal". I have a lot of feelings to explore, a seemingly endless list of ideas to explore, a great number of topics I long to discuss in conversations with people around the globe. But for today...I need to grant myself permission to be sad. Because the memory of that phone call--the moment of receiving the news--is so vivid, so visceral, so raw, and still so excruciating I realize the road to healing ahead of me is still long and winding.
For now...I want you to know about a beautiful initiative by Indigo in support of mental health. From now until February 29th, for every copy of my book sold, Indigo will donate $1 to the Canadian Mental Health Association. Our vision to help prevent anyone else from having to wake up to the same devastating news.
You can learn a bit more about it here: https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/...
Please help spread the word. <3
Grief & Loss & Love & Sex
For now...I want you to know about a beautiful initiative by Indigo in support of mental health. From now until February 29th, for every copy of my book sold, Indigo will donate $1 to the Canadian Mental Health Association. Our vision to help prevent anyone else from having to wake up to the same devastating news.
You can learn a bit more about it here: https://www.chapters.indigo.ca/en-ca/...
Please help spread the word. <3
Grief & Loss & Love & Sex
December 31, 2019
2020 Visions
It’s late afternoon on the last day of the decade and as I sit and reflect on not just this one but the past two, I’m dizzy with all that has transpired. It’s hard not to get emotional.
I remember exactly where I was on this night in 1999. And with whom. A small gathering of family and friends. A boy with dreads to his waist and a voice like velvet. A boy who wrote songs for me--songs I still keep. A boy I wrote poetry for--poetry I still keep. A boy I loved.
I remember the feeling of anticipation so thick in the air as none of us really knew what to expect as the year rolled over into a new millenium.
I remember exactly where I was on this night in 2009 too. And with whom. A small gathering of friends. A clean-cut boy who I’d known for a lifetime and broke up with on the way to the party which, because of our long history of friendship, did nothing to spoil our fun. It was a good, clear awareness with which to enter a new year...a knowing that what I thought was love wasn’t, and a knowing that I wanted more, even if I didn’t know where I’d find it.
This year the only boy in my life is my son and, with respect to my love life, I’ve graduated from boys to men. Though...there aren’t any of those hanging around at present either. But I’m okay with it. Because the most important thing I’m leaving 2019 with is a deep, unwavering, and true love for my Self. Back in 1999 this depth of self-love was only a notion, a concept from a book, certainly not something I could grasp and hold onto. My, how I’ve changed in the interim.
In the last two decades I have fallen in love (countless times, some more deeply than others), gotten married, had a baby, gotten separated then divorced, graduated from Yoga Teacher Training, Gestalt Training, and Chef’s College. I’ve started businesses and folded them. I’ve lost far too many friends to cancer and suicide, nearly lost my only son to brain injury and championed him back to health with a ferocity that leaves even me breathless when I think back on it. I’ve travelled to roughly fifteen countries on six continents...deep into the Amazon jungle, to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro, and to the very depths of my own soul. I’ve let go of dreams that no longer fit and brought bigger ones to fruition. I experienced the most life-altering, profound, and gut-wrenching pain with the loss of my sister to suicide and come to understand grief in the nucleus of my every cell. I have learned that even within pain so immense and all-consuming, there is a way through and that somehow, inconceivably, life does go on and it does, despite it all, remain beautiful.
I have learned to draw boundaries, to honour my own truth, to maintain my integrity at all costs, to never make promises I can’t keep, to say what I mean and mean what I say and do the things I say I’ll do. I have learned the value of true friendship and community and that each requires nurturing, they don’t just happen. I have learned what it means to let go, that expectations are my enemy and surrender is my friend, that my perceptions of the world must always be willing to bend. I have learned the longer I live the less I know and that there is true beauty and fulfillment in approaching the world with a beginner’s mind at all times. I have learned to go slower, to do the things that make me breathe--that a deep breath can fix just about anything in an instant. I have learned to love the pause...the space between. I have learned I am capable of SO MUCH MORE, but it’s up to me to decide if more is better and, sometimes, it isn’t. I have learned that I have no time for mediocrity but that it’s okay to go easy on myself. And that my life doesn’t happen on someone else’s timeline or by someone else’s definition of success or ideas about who I’m meant to be. I have learned that the only person I answer to is me. I have learned that I love the feeling of never letting myself down and that it’s the tiny, daily habits of normal things like drinking enough water and taking my vitamins and going outside and leaving space for nothingness that get me the results I want. It’s rarely giant, sweeping gestures. And the same is true in friendship and in love. I have learned that the only guru I’ve ever needed resides right inside my own heart and I can count on my intuition to never lead me astray. I have learned to listen to the quiet voice inside and to make room for enough quiet time in each day, week, month, and year to be able to hear it.
I think, most importantly, I have located my own internal compass. I know who I am. I have remembered. I have remembered myself home.
Happy 2020. May your vision remain ever-clear. May love be within you always. May you never doubt the wisdom of your own heart. May every journey lead you back to peace.
And may you always remember yourself back home.
Home Sweet Home.
I love your guts.
Happy New Year.
L.xo.
::
A piece of poetry to send you on your way...
i wish you
more laughter than tears
more excitement than fears
more joy than sorrow
a richer tomorrow
i wish you
bliss and blessings
from below and above
most of all
i wish you love
wishes
from Grief & Loss & Love & Sex
I remember exactly where I was on this night in 1999. And with whom. A small gathering of family and friends. A boy with dreads to his waist and a voice like velvet. A boy who wrote songs for me--songs I still keep. A boy I wrote poetry for--poetry I still keep. A boy I loved.
I remember the feeling of anticipation so thick in the air as none of us really knew what to expect as the year rolled over into a new millenium.
I remember exactly where I was on this night in 2009 too. And with whom. A small gathering of friends. A clean-cut boy who I’d known for a lifetime and broke up with on the way to the party which, because of our long history of friendship, did nothing to spoil our fun. It was a good, clear awareness with which to enter a new year...a knowing that what I thought was love wasn’t, and a knowing that I wanted more, even if I didn’t know where I’d find it.
This year the only boy in my life is my son and, with respect to my love life, I’ve graduated from boys to men. Though...there aren’t any of those hanging around at present either. But I’m okay with it. Because the most important thing I’m leaving 2019 with is a deep, unwavering, and true love for my Self. Back in 1999 this depth of self-love was only a notion, a concept from a book, certainly not something I could grasp and hold onto. My, how I’ve changed in the interim.
In the last two decades I have fallen in love (countless times, some more deeply than others), gotten married, had a baby, gotten separated then divorced, graduated from Yoga Teacher Training, Gestalt Training, and Chef’s College. I’ve started businesses and folded them. I’ve lost far too many friends to cancer and suicide, nearly lost my only son to brain injury and championed him back to health with a ferocity that leaves even me breathless when I think back on it. I’ve travelled to roughly fifteen countries on six continents...deep into the Amazon jungle, to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro, and to the very depths of my own soul. I’ve let go of dreams that no longer fit and brought bigger ones to fruition. I experienced the most life-altering, profound, and gut-wrenching pain with the loss of my sister to suicide and come to understand grief in the nucleus of my every cell. I have learned that even within pain so immense and all-consuming, there is a way through and that somehow, inconceivably, life does go on and it does, despite it all, remain beautiful.
I have learned to draw boundaries, to honour my own truth, to maintain my integrity at all costs, to never make promises I can’t keep, to say what I mean and mean what I say and do the things I say I’ll do. I have learned the value of true friendship and community and that each requires nurturing, they don’t just happen. I have learned what it means to let go, that expectations are my enemy and surrender is my friend, that my perceptions of the world must always be willing to bend. I have learned the longer I live the less I know and that there is true beauty and fulfillment in approaching the world with a beginner’s mind at all times. I have learned to go slower, to do the things that make me breathe--that a deep breath can fix just about anything in an instant. I have learned to love the pause...the space between. I have learned I am capable of SO MUCH MORE, but it’s up to me to decide if more is better and, sometimes, it isn’t. I have learned that I have no time for mediocrity but that it’s okay to go easy on myself. And that my life doesn’t happen on someone else’s timeline or by someone else’s definition of success or ideas about who I’m meant to be. I have learned that the only person I answer to is me. I have learned that I love the feeling of never letting myself down and that it’s the tiny, daily habits of normal things like drinking enough water and taking my vitamins and going outside and leaving space for nothingness that get me the results I want. It’s rarely giant, sweeping gestures. And the same is true in friendship and in love. I have learned that the only guru I’ve ever needed resides right inside my own heart and I can count on my intuition to never lead me astray. I have learned to listen to the quiet voice inside and to make room for enough quiet time in each day, week, month, and year to be able to hear it.
I think, most importantly, I have located my own internal compass. I know who I am. I have remembered. I have remembered myself home.
Happy 2020. May your vision remain ever-clear. May love be within you always. May you never doubt the wisdom of your own heart. May every journey lead you back to peace.
And may you always remember yourself back home.
Home Sweet Home.
I love your guts.
Happy New Year.
L.xo.
::
A piece of poetry to send you on your way...
i wish you
more laughter than tears
more excitement than fears
more joy than sorrow
a richer tomorrow
i wish you
bliss and blessings
from below and above
most of all
i wish you love
wishes
from Grief & Loss & Love & Sex
