Archives for category: Emotionally Unavailable Men

Don’t let the tall weeds cast a shadow on the beautiful flowers in your garden.” 
― Steve Maraboli


I’ve been back on Vancouver Island for 5 days, during which time I have sunk deeper and deeper into myself. In the past, I’ve always found my way back to the light by listening to my heart and watching for symbolic offerings from the Unified Field. This present journey into the dark will be no different. Fortunately, transformation is in Inverse Proportion to the depth of the descent…the deeper and darker the cave, the more profound the resulting shift in perspective. I felt the first glimmers of  ‘new life’ during the Spring Equinox of March. For the first time in my life I felt a natural flow of energy, rather than willful productivity. My behaviour was compassionate and loving without having to will myself to ‘Do the right thing’, and I felt aligned with Spirit. This lasted 3 days and then disappeared. To me, this experiential perfection was akin to a buried seedpod when it feels the earth’s first blush of warmth after months of winter snow. Awakened, the seed sends roots deeper into the dark, searching for sustenance. This growing network of roots will create a stable platform for the growing plant, allowing it to stand upright in summer bloom. I too was awakened by the warmth of the earth’s sun in my 3 days of bliss, but like the seed which has to dig deeper into the dark for sustenance and stability, I too have had darkness, struggle and emotional upheaval. Below is the most transcendent, life affirming time lapse video of an unfolding seedpod. This was created by the genius of Neil Bromhall. 

Resplendent is the result, but determination and desire are necessary in this arduous journey. When desperate, I think of the power it takes for the seed to push aside the earth so that it may bask in the glory and warmth of earth’s bounty. This inspires me to stay my course. Each bout of hopelessness and sorrow has been balanced by a counterpoint of burgeoning  new life.

Symbolic Offerings Helping Me Unearth ‘Her’ Grip

The Other Woman as Insidious Weed!

The Other Woman as Insidious Weed!

 The Other Woman as Insidious Weed

Although my garden was abloom upon my return from Alberta, it had also been infested. Surrounding each flower was a bevy of weeds, threatening to suffocate its very life. I dropped to my knees and began to cry…the first sign that I was undergoing a psychic fracturing. 5 days of weeding, 5 days of isolation and darkness. Bewildered by the depth of my sorrow, I surrendered to the omniscience of The Universe and asked, “How do these choking weeds mimic my life? What is threatening my chance to bloom this summer?” And then I was blessed with a synchronistic insight. Metaphorically, I have been watering the weeds in my life. For years I have been paying far too much attention to ‘the other woman’ in the lives of my boyfriends or husbands, rather than giving voice to the woman hidden within me. Changing this entrenched perspective was the impetus for theotherwomanblog. I needed to drag this shameful subject out into the light of day. No longer did I want to suffer in silence, acting as though I could handle the betrayal…keeping calm and carrying on. So I created a stage from which I could view the 3 main characters involved in my drama. My hope was to humanize the demons and transform myself from victim to empowered woman.

I’ve had to unearth the pain, the scars and the wounds of infidelity and betrayal, and believe that I am still a worthwhile, beautiful woman capable of creating a fulfilling life.

I want to thank Neil Bromhall for giving me hope. His creations pulled me from the dark desolation of human transformation.


The Black Madonna is a Mother who is aware of the hardships that happen to us, in and out of the dark of unknowing, unconsciousness, ignorance and innocence.

-Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes


My daughter sent me a warning the other day. Her email’s subject said, “Mercury In Retrograde – Take Precautions.”

Trying to be a ‘cool’ mom, I glibly responded with, “I’m up there with Mercury, holding her hand, demonstrating retrograde behaviour at its finest.” I had always thought retrograde just meant regressive, but after a quick check with Merrian Webster I discovered to my ‘New Age’ delight that retrograde could also mean, moving contrary to a previous direction. Smugly, I thought to myself, “I’m not going backwards after all, I’m going in a new direction!” I immediately felt better about myself. In a typically self-satisfied, ‘I’ve got my karmic act together’, kind of ego – inflatedness, I decided I didn’t need to read the advice on successful navigation when Mercury is in retrograde, and began to answer emails. The wiser Universe immediately proved to me yet again, that my smugness will have me on my knees begging for a second chance to be a more humble person.


Last fall, having joyfully participated in Deepak Chopra’s free 21 Day Meditation Challenge, I was sent his latest offer. Although similar in format, this time Deepak is teaming up with Oprah. Seeing the image of Oprah ‘hugging’ Deepak, I sent the photo below, along with a message to my daughter…(or so I thought it was sent to my daughter)…saying “Is Oprah Strangling Deepak?”  

She Who Laughs last, laughs Alone

But pesky Mercury had me click REPLY not FORWARD, so my message went right back to DEEPAK at the Chopra Institute. I only know this because of the reply I received from the Chopra Institute:

Your request (#48094) has been received and will be reviewed and replied to by our Help Desk staff within 24 business hours of receipt.

Needless to say, I never got a response from the Help Desk, as they probably realized I was beyond any help they could give me! I am writing about this for 2 reasons.

1) Don’t ignore warnings, especially those sent by your more intuitive children, who know your faults and foibles better than anyone.

 2) To share my experience of projection, a Jungian concept that defies comprehensible explanation, and continues to baffle me. But here goes.

In reality, I know nothing of the relationship between Oprah and Deepak. Therefore, my comment about Oprah having Deepak in a half nelson says everything about me…not Oprah. In a projection, I take an unacknowledged, unpleasant quality of my own and instead of owning up to it, I ‘see’ it in another person. In this particular projection, I don’t want to acknowledge my tyrannical tendencies with men, when I don’t get the love I want. I would rather believe and have others believe that I am always a loving woman, just unlucky in love. There is no grace or growth in the endless gossip and tittle-tattle of daily life. I apologize to you Oprah, for projecting my character flaw onto you.


The other day, I was simultaneously searching the net for the most efficacious compost system and the best facial skin rejuvenation technology.

I found experts on both, with whom I discussed my purchase options…and then I had to laugh! With one, the Jura garden composter, I am acknowledging the end of the life cycle…with the other I am fruitlessly clinging to a youth long gone. The juxtaposition of two such wildly opposing attitudes hoisted me onto the cross of indecision. On one side, if I purchase a composter for my new garden, I can contribute to the cycle of organic food feeding my body, creating a ‘natural beauty’. On the other side, if I have my face zapped with radio and light beams, I could create a new and improved me…or could I have both? Unable to decide, I went for a walk on the beach.


Yesterday’s tide was extremely low which meant I could look for treasures in places usually under water…and there it is…the metaphor for uncovering the gems of the unconscious. Given the right conditions, new life manifests. This process needs the synchronistic collision of The Universe and an individual’s intention. The Universe provided the low tide, and I got my ‘imprisoned’ self out for a walk. Typically, I find 1 or 2 pieces of this coveted glass, but yesterday I found at least 50…turquoise, cobalt blue, green and yellow. Uncovering the gems hidden within our unconscious can be equally rewarding. Hidden in the dark swirl of fear, I can stand frozen…the pain of remaining in the place of suffering lays opposite to moving into an unknown world. Immobility over mundane real world dilemmas such as illustrated above(composter vs facial rejuvenation) happens similarly within our inner, psychic world. In both, we can hang frozen, hoisted on the cross of indecision, until we die, or surrender to the creation of a new and better life. The beautiful, broken beach glass that I had found in the past, was thus transformed by my dear friend, Colleen Belyea(This Little Bauble). Below are 2 examples of her creations.

Aspirations for Week 35 of 52

Revisiting Black Madonna of Czestochwa

In 1993, my 86 year old Aunty Mary visited me in Vienna. My middle name is Mary –  a tribute to het being surrogate mother to my mother. My maternal grandmother died in childbirth, leaving 7 children motherless. Aunty Mary and I planned a trip to Poland, our country of origin, so that we could visit Black Madonna of Czestochowa. Incomprehensibly, I was fascinated by her. Up until a couple of days ago, I have not thought much about Black Madonnas…also incomprehensible. But in reading Untie the Strong Woman by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, the journey into Poland came flooding back. Historians believe the Black Madonna of Czestochowa, may have been the table top used by the Holy Family. She may have been painted by Luke, the Apostle. Incredulously, this Black Madonna has several battle scars on her face, that have defied countless attempts at restoration! She is considered to be a warrior Madonna and a healer of the crippled, the harmed. Maybe it is she, who has been watching over me, helping me heal my crippled, arthritic body and broken heart.

So in honour of my Aunty Mary and Black Madonna of Czestochowa, I will leave my face to bear the scars of my hard won battles. Just as the beach glass is broken, but still beautiful, so too am I.


The Face of Femininity

The Face of Femininity

“With the manipulation of abstract symbols, an artist can send you information without sound, change your feelings and,
sometimes, even beliefs. Artists convey the unspeakable.”
― Jonathan Culver


All night long the seals barked outside my window. By clicking on the words Seal Barking you will be able to listen to what I heard…for 10 hours though.

Seal Barking

It was a full moon and the sky was clear. Magical by anyone’s standards, but I was trying to shut nature out. So now it’s Tuesday and my  post is late. I am arguing with myself. I vacillate between being a thinking person who talks about Spirit, and being a Spiritual person who thinks before talking. As I wrestle with this, my vision deteriorates…literally. I last went blind when my younger daughter left home for University, in 2009, leaving me lost and without a vision for my new life. I hang so steadfastly to my stances and beliefs on life, that my body gives me very real, unignorable symptoms…until my will breaks and I allow the transformation to occur.

This post jumps all over the place, reflecting my experience.


I sat bolt upright in bed last Wednesday night, gripped by fear. It was 1:38 am. Breaking out in a cold sweat, with butterflies in my stomach, I held my breath, afraid of my own shadow.  Was I standing on the edge of a precipice? Or adrift in white water rapids approaching a waterfall? Was I being smothered by a boa? Or leeched of blood by a parasitic worm? Or was I just a crocus, braving a chilly spring day?

2 truths are apparent to me. I have periods of terror in my new life and the use of idioms and hackneyed cliches are inadequate and sound idiotic.

On Saturday, as I was getting ready to meet a new man whom I hoped might be emotionally available, I glanced outside at the tiny flowers in my garden, bravely pushing through the cold, damp earth to view the blue sky and feel the warmth of the day. This may seem odd, but I’ve taken to talking to my plants. I asked them if they felt fear when blossoming in February, when tomorrow might bring snow? Did they contemplate waiting for a month, when warmer weather would be a certainty? Wouldn’t it be more prudent, I suggested, to wait until all conditions for survival were perfect? And there it is! Nature as metaphor! Obviously, neither the tiny yellow flowers nor the purple, can think or feel or have a say in when they bloom. Some inner ‘knowing’ alerts these plants to begin their transformation from seed pod to bloom, intuiting conditions are ‘good enough’. This inner knowing must exist within me, but I forget to listen to this intuitive, spiritual guide, and get stuck in my mind that says “Better the devil you know…” 



My first encounter with this new man took place at a local coffee shop. I felt fairly confident in going to meet him as I had intuited from the previous 2 weeks of conversation on POF, that he was respectful and attentive. During our 3 hour date, C. remained alert and interested in me, even when I deliberately put him to the test, by acting like an Emotionally Unavailable Man…you know, talking on and on in a  self-centered monologue! His eyes did not glaze over once, nor did he interrupt or yawn. And in answer to those of you who suggested only homosexual men are Emotionally Available, I hope you are wrong! I thought C. was attractive, but not confident. Every day language works well in describing C.’s stylish shirt and jeans, but falls short when trying to describe his essence. Metaphors from nature might lend themselves more easily to concepts like vulnerability and fear by creating images that bypass the concretizing mind. I could describe him using sea-faring terms. ..he seemed recently set adrift from an ancient mooring. Although awakened by this sudden plunge into icy water, he feared he would sink into the depths of  the unknown and would much prefer a jaunty sail in a light wind. Hackneyed yes, but the imagery says more than a simple explanation could. For illustration purposes… C.’s long term relationship ended recently when his wife wanted a divorce… 

Below are some photos of my new garden. It is being built by Anthony, with assistance from Jane! 20 eagles were flying around the cottage as a seal had washed up on shore, a tantalizing, but tough skinned treat for the wildlife.

COUGAR MARY-  I am trying to understand her

Sightings of cougars are extremely rare, even when your back yard borders a cougar corridor as mine did in Bragg Creek. So having a cougar walk onto my deck(2008) AND tap on my window to get my attention is beyond explanation in our material world. Enter the world of Spirit, Myth or Fairy Tale and the significance of this event becomes more apparent. This cougar encounter was meant to remind me that I am a mammal, capable of discernment through intuition, instinct, touch, taste, smell and sight…not just my mind.

 I have had countless cougar dreams, in which I behave exactly as I did in my real life meeting. Enraged, I rant and wave my arms maniacally trying to frighten this intruding cougar, so that it will run away…like the cowardly cat I think it must be. Importantly though, on my deck and in all of my cougar dreams, the cougar is neither aggressive towards me nor frightened of me. Whether in real life or in my dreams, the cougar’s gaze towards me was the same. With her eyes never leaving my face, she beseeched me to settle within myself in order to hear her lessons. She is my wise teacher, attempting to bestow wisdom on a foolishly naive, and bewildered me …having faith that one day, I will open up to her and willingly see the beauty in her presence.

Aspirations for Week 34 of 52

Cougar Mary – Is She Between the 2 Marys?

Like a young cougar cub, learning through trial and error, I am beginning to claim my personal power, walking a solitary path into the heart of all that matters. I will trust my instinctual self knowing that when the weather changes, I can close my petals and find shelter behind a granite rock.

Taking Shelter in Inclement Weather

Taking Shelter in Inclement Weather

A Spiritual Encounter

A Spiritual Encounte 

I felt once more how simple and frugal a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. Nothing else.

Nikos Kazantzakis


Last week’s revelations have altered me forever. I had a cataclysmic shift in perspective, when I finally saw that I, as an Emotionally Eager Woman(EEW) contorted myself in futile attempts to elicit heartfelt reactions from Emotionally Unavailable Men(EUM). Now that’s a sentence! It describes a reality that NO LONGER EXISTS! I am free of this self-destructive, soul-destroying pattern of behaviour. This past week has been delightful and different. Gone is my need to be told I am loveable. Gone is my desire of wanting to be wanted. This lifelong, unconscious, beguiling determiner of my behaviour with men, finally broke through to consciousness! The sonic boom it created seemed as loud as the meteor in Russia. The pain in my heart, broke into tiny pieces, just like the shattered panes of glass in Chelyabinsk. And in time, these shards will be washed away!

I’ve had experiences during the last 7 days that were entirely new to me. I flirted with emotionally available men, rather than waiting to be noticed by EUMs! I taught drama to a delightful Grade 7 class. I committed to visit Vienna(without a man) in celebration of finishing Week 52 of 52 for The Other Woman Blog! I planned a communal food garden with a young couple I befriended in my neighborhood. I smiled at my reflection. 


The purpose of The Other Woman Blog has been to unravel my contained and confined femininity. As I celebrate the sensation of freedom today, I have the strength to examine some of the forces behind the formation of my behaviour with men. I was an obedient daughter, and never openly provoked my father, that is, until I brought home my first serious boyfriend. Up until this obvious act of defiance, I employed passive aggressive tactics to express my rage. With his penchant for violence, I felt I had no other choice. For example, as a teen, I would stack the drying dishes from the evening meal, so precariously, that inevitably, the next morning as my father put them away, they would CRASH BANG to the floor. Hearing him swear from the safety of my bedroom I would laugh to myself, delighting in my ability to enrage him. Every day, I systematically burned the potatoes for the supper meal, knowing how much dad hated the pervasive taste of charcoal. And when I set the table, I gave him the chipped glass, the fork with the bent tine and the plate that swirled when he tried to cut his food. My father remained unaware of the lengths I had gone to elicit a positive, unequivocally joyful response from him…I got great marks, I was polite, and I said ‘no’ to sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll. So by 20, I had given up on him and transferred this desperate plea for male attention to my ‘father replacement’.

My Old Boyfriend

My Old Boyfriend

Nothing says you’re a failure as a father more eloquently than when your daughter chooses a much older boyfriend, who bears a striking resemblance to the patriarch! At 20, I chose B as my boyfriend in a misguided belief that a facsimile of father would give me the attention and emotional support I craved. The side ‘benefit’ was the anger and humiliation my father felt over my choice. B was 20 years older than I, which made him 13 years younger than my father. They could trade WW11 stories and gloat over the fact that they still had their hair in middle age. I was incapable of discerning B’s motivations for being with me, as my need for male approval, superseded any logic or good sense. I failed to see how I was hurting myself in this odd relationship. My unfulfilled emotional needs dictated my choices. I’ve come to see that any behaviour that defies logic and common sense, is driven by unconscious need.

One night, after meeting B, my father offered me his first bit of advice…”A man doesn’t have to buy the cow, if he gets the milk for free.”  His comment infuriated me. It was rude on so many levels, that I blurted out “F*** YOU.” Shocked that I would say this to him,  he slapped me with incredible force, across the face. Broken-hearted, I ran from the house, out into the blackness of the summer night, weeping and suicidal. I sat on a swing in a nearby playground, planning my death, when an overwhelming energy pulled my gaze upwards, into the splendour of the sky. Transfixed by what I saw, my pain subsided. The beauty unfolding above my head, was the counterpoint to the strife I had been experiencing with my father. In that moment, in my soul, I found hope and enough strength to walk back into the house, knowing that life’s hardships would always be balanced by its beauty. SORRY, YOUTUBE IS NO LONGER ALLOWING ME TO USE ANY OF THE FOOTAGE FROM THIS AMAZING EXPLOSION! 

40 years ago, this cosmic extravaganza kept me out of the morgue. Its unparalleled magnificence gave me a reason to live, a philosophy of life and a sense of hope. Although Alister Chapman’s YouTube clip is not exactly what I saw, as my event had more pinks and purples, the majesty of the music, echoed my feelings!

WEEK 33 OF 52



Last week’s Blog Post, Week 32 of 52, Ending My Search for Emotionally Unavailable Men, marked the 8 month point in my 12 month journey towards finding The Other Woman within myself.

8 is symbolic of completion to Buddhists and celestial order to the Hindi where  the 8th Chakra is the Chakra of the Soul. To the Christians, 8 is symbolic of rebirth and regeneration. To the Pythagoreans, the number 8 is the symbol of love and friendship and to the Chinese and other Asian cultures, 8 represents the whole, the totality of the Universe. And for the kinaesthetic learners in the group, you will not be able to fold a piece of paper more than 8 times. 8 is infinity – Paradise regained. 8 is a universally recognized power number.

After 8 months of slogging and blogging through the mire of my psyche, my unconscious drives, my memories and my habits I declare a success! For the first time in my conscious life, I feel free of my need to ‘work’ on myself, in hopes of receiving a declaration of sincere, unreserved, unfettered love from the man of my dreams.

Cosmic Infinity

Cosmic Infinity


%d bloggers like this: