Author Archives: laceymacpherson

If I ever have a daughter..

If I ever have a daughter, after she crawls I will teach her to walk a tightrope between a goddess and a humble monk. She will learn that her light, like the sun glows and grows the world. In the darkest nights of her life I will be there to remind her that the moon is above her.Both have the ability to cast shadows upon us, or beautiful illumination.

I will shun colouring books. The world is her canvas to paint her dreams upon. When she lashes out at me, I will hug her harder. When she cries, I will let her taste how salty this world can be.After which I will bake her a chocolate chip cookie to remind and comfort her in knowing there is sweetness too.

When it comes to boys? Pssssh. I will laugh. “Hunny, I have a PhD in bad boys and fixer uppers.” I will know every excuse,every elaborate sneak out scheme. I know what she will say and every reaction. Being my daughter? Jesus,what a reaction that will be. However,like my instinct to breath, as certain that the moon will rise and set. I will love her and listen to her as if it’s the first time I’ve ever heard it. I promise to never say,”I told you so.” Don’t get it twisted though, I’m a mama bear and you’re my cub,so I will want to rip out his throat. I promise to try to show restraint….try

While she will be my daughter, she will be her. Whoever that is,and whoever she wants to be. I will teach her not to exist,but to live. To undeniably be herself,Truly and completely.regardless of how many times this world knocks her down,which it will. I will be her net if she needs catching,a push when she wants one and a raw dose of reality if she needs it.

If I ever have a daughter,I hope that she knows I’ve loved her before I will ever have her,before I’ve seen her,before I knew my own name and will for as long as the stars shine.



Finding my mother

I hate to begin this under the pretence of a whiney sob story. It’s truly not. As a reference note though, it’s important for me to mention a couple of things. My mother( who this is about) was diagnosed with Type 1 bipolar,with severe mania and frequent periods of complete psychosis. I myself from my early teen years(earlier in retrospect) was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I always knew there was something else,something I or my doctors couldn’t put their finger on. I knew I had bipolar symptoms. Never mania, I’ve never lost touch with reality or had a “manic episode”. At times I’d make reckless choices that I’d think back on like,”what the hell did I just do?” I’d self-medicate, my lows were the darkest pit imaginable, I would have periods of great creativity, at work I’d go non-stop..until I’d question everything.To someone looking in it looked as though I didn’t care. That I was selfish, rebellious, or basically on a mission to fuck up my life. After an exhausting amount of time,For ten fucking years I felt like I was fighting a battle with no end in sight. I told my doctor one day. “None of this is going to work,it’s making it worse I’m type 2 bipolar.if I’m wrong I’m wrong” when it was actually confirmed I was a mix of relieved and livid. I felt like my biggest fear came true. I was like my mother. Key word,felt. Logic soon set in that they are two completely different illnesses, and that I’m the same person who walked in the door as I was when I came out. All my medications were stopped,just a mood stabilizer and a sleeping aid. I hate to sound like a chicken soup for the soul book,but it was like night and day. I’ve never felt better. It’s not black or white, now there is a grey. My bad days are situational and not overwhelming. I actually sleep at night,I haven’t had a single panic attack. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened and I genuinely believe saved my life. This is a journal entry from yesterday. My mother upon discharge from the hospital is moving,she asked if I wanted to go over to her apartment and see if there was anything I’d like to take home.

“I’m looking at all her trinkets and collected treasures. Some I remember,some are as unknown to me as she is. I haven’t lived with her since I was nine,so I’ve never lived here. It’s odd walking around someone’s home. Who is she? Why did she buy this,what does it mean to her? What was she thinking at the time?. The placement of some objects and order scream of mania,others of a secret. Which is the most accurate description of her. The woman I know anyway. No one is just one thing. Like facets of a diamond,we all have many sides. This woman is a daughter,a sister,a friend,an aunt,an individual.

It’s a beautiful summer day. A warm breeze rich with the smell of freshly cut grass floats in through the windows. I walk into her bedroom. Sit down on her bed and look around. That’s when it hits me. Like a punch in the stomach I want to puke and cry at the same time. Patchouli oil,a perfume she wore from the moment I can remember her. A smell that always caused me sheer panic. To anyone else that may sound crazy,to me it was the sent of dread. An allergic reaction to a bee sting,my throat felt as if it was closing over and I couldn’t breath. Any time I’d smell it it meant she was either coming near me,or leaving. Both meant that it was only a matter of time before the bottom of the barrel fell out,and it always did.

I stand up and walk towards her dresser,with the same instinct a bird has to fly south in the winter. I open it,within seconds move shirts and sweaters and there it is. Still in the package. I stood in shock. Not to find it,but to find myself standing there sobbing. I’am a twenty-five year old woman,but in this moment I flashback to little Lacey. Just a little girl, scared and wondering why I don’t feel anything for this person and if that makes me a bad kid. Why don’t I love her like I do my dad? Why if she’s in a room do I not recognize her voice? Why every time she hugs me do I feel like I’m suffocating? I tried to remember anything good,any memory to grasp on to. I can count five. Five I’m twenty-five years.

I find a journal from 2012-2013. I open in up with the careful precision of a surgeon. The beginning was a bunch of uplifting and positive quotes. Fuck. It reminded me of an obnoxiously sugar coated church pamphlet. Progressively as I read along it becomes less entries and more random blurbs. Then the rise to mania. Choppy,riddled with rambles about god taking care of her. Then psychosis unrecognizable drawings and shit that was honestly disturbing. The next were from the hospital and a slow decline to somewhat balanced. Two things jumped off the pages and slapped me in the face 1.) For the first time she spoke about her mother honestly, and her tiredness of trying to basically have a relationship with her. That she was disappointed and that she has to work on letting that go. 2.)” Jimmy’s mother was Lacey’s mom. I may have had her,but she was her real mother. She learned everything from her and Jimmy.”

Then something I never expected to happen did. The strongest sense of empathy and understanding. Forgiveness came from my toes to my nose. I was still crying,but happy tears. It felt like there were two selfs in the room. My adult self, and my childhood self. My child self was validated, and finally had my voice heard. I wasn’t scared anymore. There was an answer to “where is mommy?”, “did I make mom sick?”. My adult self felt like I finally learned the answer to a secret that bugged me, that the scar I’d sometimes notice in the mirror and remember before quickly turning away had vanished.

Everything came full circle. I finally fucking got it. She had a lot of friends..but how many were close?.involved in something new all the time..why did nothing stick? If you stabbed her she would apologize for getting blood on your hand. Everything was so beautifully sugarcoated to be the most loveable version of herself. All to feel a love she never felt. We all do what we need to do to survive. In that survival,she became so many fragments how could she commit to any? Except wanting me.

I found her year book, her future plans were child care. Tucked away in a desk I found her early childhood development diploma. Until she was eight months pregnant she was a day care teacher.I was literally what she wanted her whole life. I think she thought I would fill a voile she felt,that she would finally be content and complete. The saddest irony is that the hormone changes,lack of sleep and everything that goes with giving birth and having a new born is what triggered her first episode causing her to spend the first three months of my life I a mental institution.

There is a thin line between healthy and unhealthy, of maddenss and calm. That could have been me. I’ve been on both sides, not to sound like a text book but early intervention and awareness is huge. Someone told me,”you will never love yourself until you forgive her.” It’s true. How can I love my self when half of the reason I’m here I hate? The fear…everything. All of me, the good,bad,dark,light,flaws,positives. All of it is me. It made me,a work in progress,a person. Any fragments? They will be made whole. The past,it feels like I packed it up in a box and sent it off to sea.

What happens between us now? Not a fucking clue. The fact that I can say “us” though is enough for now”


Books to read before you’re 25

When I think of the bookshelf in my mind and try to think of the stand outs,I could go on for ages.
These are the books that have changed, helped or inspired me in my life that I strongly feel everyone should read:

The Catcher in The Rye:J.D Salinger- I can safely say that while the badge of, “favourite book” has been given to others over the years,This is the original.
To try to explain my love for this book is almost exhausting. Not because of the teenage angst, or outsider label its been given.I fucking despise when people say that. It cheapens the Work and writes off a rawness that makes this a classic.
This novel is narrated by the main character, Holden Caulfield, telling of an event set in the not so far past after he was kicked out of a prestigious private school, from the mental health facility he is in.
This is one of the most relatable characters. I could be Holden,you could be Holden. One of my favourite quotes comes from this book and sums up my love for it: “Among other things, you’ll find that you’re not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You’re by no means alone on that score, you’ll be excited and stimulated to know. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You’ll learn from them—if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It’s a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn’t education. It’s history. It’s poetry.”

Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas : Hunter S. Thompson- Hands down Thompson is my favourite author and journalist of all time. He created a genre of journalism, Gonzo,which mashes together subjective writing, classic objective journalism and fiction in a clusterfuck of brilliance.
This story takes place in the 70’s,on a weekend work trip to Vegas to report on a motorbike race. What ensues is a comedic whirlwind of grasping hopelessly to the ideals’ and promises of the 60’s, navigating the cheap tacky neon light of Vegas on enough drugs and alcohol to put Vegas itself to shame. Its undertones of energy come through to me. Truth laced with comedy. A coming of age story of sorts. The state of the physical world now and who we want to be in that.Some miss the point. They see or like the idea of the character of Thompson. Holding the character,the art as the man himself. That’s tragic to me. He was far more then content for a 16 year old stoners poster hanging in their room. Yet I digress.
A quote from this novel I love and try to live by,so much so its tattoo’d on me as a reminder. Good or bad,our choices are a course. To always learn,fail,grow.To live and not exist is: “No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride…and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well…maybe chalk it off to forced conscious expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten”

The Pleasures Of The Damned : Charles burkowski – This is a collection of poems. Maybe you’re not into poetry. Burkowski is different and is still one of the most criticized. He writes with a bluntness that is matched only by beautiful honesty. His words are like a smoke cloud lingering in a dim room. He’s as common as the drunk next door,and mysterious as big foot.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland: Lewis Carrol- tells a story of a girl named Alice who falls down a rabbit hole into a weird and odd fantasy world.
When I was a child this book meant the world to me. I was a kid who asked a million questions and would often be to curious.The imagery and anything goes,what’s up is down thing sparked my imagination and intrigue. I’d read it before bed or have it read to me and have the most vivid dreams.
As an adult what I love about this is the unbelievable amount of philosophy,symbolism. It’s so thought provoking.

Into The Wild: Jon Krakauer-This is the true story of Christopher McCandless. In the early 90’s after graduating university. Christopher abandoned his possessions, gave$24,000 to charity and hitchhikes to Alaska. *NOTE*- Read the book. Don’t watch the movie first no matter what. While I thought it was carried out well the ending is wrong on such a huge level.Anyway,back to the Point.
I read this book when I was 16 or 17. I get the dream of Alaska. For me it was and is British Columbia. To live and write in the Rockies. To remove yourself from the death sentence (at least to me it would be,I’m not judging others lives) of the 9-5 job, soulless shells wearing suits. To live life simply and to the fullest. I remember the first time I saw the Rockies on a trip I thought of This book. After a failed business that I lost myself in I cried look at this on my bookshelf. I became the sell out I hated.
This book serves as a reminder to stay true to your truth, make it YOUR truth and live it fiercely.

The Hobbit: J.R.R Tolkien- The first time I heard of this book was in 6th grade from our teacher. I’d like to call her eccentric,but truthfully she was an absolute nutter. However; giving credit where its due, Choosing to read this aloud instead of assigning it to a class of 11 year old who wouldn’t read it? Smart. Before I go any further, it’s obvious yet bears repeating, read this before you read The Lord of the rings trilogy. This is one of the best stories of adventure. Its undertones of good vs. evil ,light and dark. While at the age of 11 I didn’t interpret the same as I did when I was older, it was felt and prevalent. The idea of fantasy in fiction I felt was gone until I read this. It’s blend of fantasy, philosophy ( more so in the trilogy that follows) assured me and sparked my imagination.

Prozac Nation: Elizabeth Wurtzel- This book, I still don’t know how I came to find it while browsing a bookstore at 13.Luck? Fate? Who knows, but it came to me when I needed it. You know the feeling when your cold,no coat, shivering,but you won’t admit it? Than someone gives you a coat. That’s what this felt like.
This book is a Memoir of the authors struggle with depression and introduction to anti-depressants while attending Harvard. I’ve read a lot of criticism about this book. That Wurtzel cashed in on being whiny,self-absorbed. I once read,” There she is at Harvard, A school most people dream of what did she have to be depressed about?” And that is exactly the point. Self-absorbed? Depression absorbs the self. Depression doesn’t have a reason,it’s an illness.
When I read this book, at the time I didn’t tell anyone about my depression. I was thirteen,in my mind I thought, ” who the fuck is going to believe me? What do I have to be depressed about? Am I gone completely ?” This book which I read and reread was like the big sister I didn’t have, the one I could look to and say ” okay so someone does get me” this kept company for 6 months until I had enough courage to reach out for help. *NOTE* Do not,I repeat, do not watch the movie. It’s an abomination.


” Why did you start a blog?”

I’ve loved writing as long as I can remember. It’s the one time I feel like myself. My real authentic self. I’ve kept journals since I was 11. There were periods in my life that I didn’t write. I use the time gaps as brain post it notes. If I’m not writing Im shut off.
Day to day activities, poems,short stories,rants and more often than not reflection.

To be honest,I’ve kept everything over the years all with the goal of two Novels.Two novels I’ve wanted to write since..ever. I’m not engulfed in delusions of grander. I just want to have them published. One copy each,for me. To see and hold this life long dream in a tangible form? Total dream.

So with that background in mind the reason I started this blog was to break out of the comfort zone I’am and have been in. To put something,feelings,thoughts opinions out there and let go. Who the fuck am I? What’s so interesting about me that I feel you should read this? I don’t. I’d never be that arrogant. However, If you do and by some sort of energy pull relate to,be comforted by or have a thought sparked ,than it was worth word vomiting over the Internet.

Things about being an adult I fail at


For my first post of my, ‘twenty five post challenge’. I figured we’d ease into this with something a little light hearted yeah? More often than I care to admit I ask myself, “Am I a grown up,or a grown child?” Not in the sense of a Peter Pan syndrome,just general daily …life? Some examples include, but are not limited to:

1.) what a fuse or a Breaker? – After a power surge(I lived in an apartment that was remodelled from a very old home. I love it. High ceilings,hardwood flooring and this gorgeous moulding) I was powerless. Obviously. I was advised to flip the breaker. Quite apparently, a quart of whiskey and me in a basement flipping switches wasn’t effective. I really like candles so instead of admitting defeat, I utilized said candles, channeled my love for little house on the prairie and went probably a month and a half without power.

2.) Oil is not gas, and a car needs both: When I was twenty-one I decided to spend the day shopping and seeing friends a couple of hours away from home. On my way home just after getting out of the city,I hear a massive boom. Huge black puff of smoke appears,sounds like a gunshot. I start bawling. Not in a damsel in distress way, but in an, “I don’t want to be in a Tupac song.” Kind of way. After way to much time and phone calls, a mechanic asks me when was the last time I put oil in the car? To which I replied that I put $20 in before I left. Blew the engine out of the car. Utter write off. My karma is now copious cabs.

3.)key chains are helpful: I lose everything. Debit cards, I.D cards,cell phones..keys. If not lost they are 99% of the time forgotten. One time in particular after closing the bar I co-owned for the night, my business partner left locking the door behind him while I was in the office finishing cash outs and bleh paper work. I realized I left my keys at my dads house and was locked in the building at 2 am. Now being locked inside a bar sounds like fun,but not when you just want to sleep,have to get a cab to go to your parents,wake them up, come to the bar to unlock you and then proceed home.

4.) To my surprise I had a kitchen:
I once went a full calendar year only cooking one meal in my was Christmas,it was for my dad and I had to buy plates. Avoid that. You’ll save a lot of money, feel more energetic and sleep better. Pizza is like that beautiful boy that is bad for you that you know you need to give up,but its just so easy and good. Cut the cord. Keep it as a treat.

5.) I refuse to shower with my face to the shower head incase an axe murder decides my Vulnerability is a prime killing time.

6.) Filters: so apparently having a filter on what you say,spewing into the world is important. I beg to differ. I have little desire to censor myself,to conform to any preconceived notion or idea. Never to offend anyone,but from a genuine place of honesty. Be it right or wrong. However; having your heart and emotion in your face at all times doesn’t always work in your favour.

Let’s talk about sex…baby? I think I’m questioning this title now.

Heart to heart, Chit-chat time. Relavent  to all of beings walking on this sphere Aka earth. When you hear, “Sexual Health”,many things come to mind. It’s an umbrella ,nope..a   Pyramid. Yup,we’ll go with pyramid,of a word. The heart and real meat of the subject, comes from the foundation . Sexual health just being the peak. Psychology, respect and mutual consent, safe sex practices, heterosexual,homosexual, bisexual, pan sexual, Transgender,communication. All of these have many a sub-category,as Its SUCH a large part of the human experience.

Here’s a question. Why does Sexual Health education in schools and media platforms continue to be so limited? Safe sexual practices, condoms, STD/STI’s and reproduction. That’s about it When it comes to access. Why is every other facet of sexual health still to taboo for the dinner table? I mean we are talking about this  from a health and educational standpoint, not morals or beliefs in behaviour.

Take pornography for example: Many people’s first experience in the exploration of their sexuality is porn. Born from a natural curiosity,fear of talking or asking questions to parents. The result is the same. Personally, I enjoy watching pornography. I make informed decisions as an adult on what I watch. I see it from the standpoint of a film. I know the difference between reality and acting or fact and fantasy. This is there the problem is. 13 year old Lacey wouldn’t have had those critical thinking skills.

My Friend Sarah has come up with a solution, which is both practical and one of those things you think,”How the hell is this not already in place?!” Her idea? Informative  labelling and easy access links on pornography websites. Given the traffic generated by these sites,it is a fantastic way to give people much needed information on sexual health,help,and education. Below is a link to a petition I hope you all take the time to read and hopefully sign. People talk about making a difference, Sarah is in an effective healthy way. My hat goes off her amazing efforts past,present and future. Lets get behind this…no pun intended.


Facebook hitting me in the heart part

Small rant yeah? Right. Okay,I LOGICALLY know,truly know that where Iam in life is where I want to be. I’m grateful to be me,to have my life and experiences. Also I will add that the grass is always greener. I know this…doesn’t mean that sometimes I’m allowed to question my Green thumb.

I understand how let dowon some must be,thinking that in the future (now) that there would be hovercraft as a main means of transportation. Why? Because I’m livid that Facebook has not evolved to read my mind and mood whilst scrolling my news feed. Jesus Christ.  Technology should be advanced enough to keep the bullshit at bay.  Harmless  scroll and its like a missile assault rifle going off in my face!  Baby here,engagement there. Oh hold on surprise wedding!

Now I know I sound bitter,I’m not. I genuinely am happy for these people as individuals. God almighty though. Buck up facebook. If I’m in yoga pants and eating piazza..alone. take a tad of bit of mercy. Wishful thinking..dillinsional really. App creators,if you read this feel free to take that idea. My treat.Image