You’ve Got Mail

All of my blog posts are almost, always never in real-time, just the occasional relatable now to then plugged in moments. But as I’ve been writing, the distance of time has shortened to about a year, which in some cases have felt too fresh to write about. Every blog post, before it’s out into the world, is carefully read out to my husband, as I want to make sure that it’s authentic and relayed correctly. He has struggled to want to talk about some of the issues, as it stirs up a lot of emotions and stress for the both of us.

I was recently encouraged by one of my favorite book authors to, “tell yourself your story,” and reminded at how much healing comes when faced with the raw honesty. Facing the grief and emotions, and also seeing the beauty of how far I’ve made it. I thought to myself, “press in and write.” So here I am, writing it all out, in hopes of it bringing personal healing, to help others feel seen and related to, as well for those sweet gems that just want to understand, I write this for you.

(A continuation of my story)

I was laying on the floor in our front room, doing stretches and physio exercises, when a knock on the front door interrupted me. I got up and peered out the side of our floral designed, wonky, glass cut outs in the metal door, which also has doily window covers, left from the previous owners to “help” with privacy. The mail lady stood on our front porch and as I opened the door, she asked me to sign for this thin envelope. I was baffled as I wasn’t expecting anything. She handed me the electronic machine and then the letter, as she turned away and I closed the door behind me, my heart sank and then my heartbeat soared with high anxiety flooding me. The letter was addressed to me from ICBC. I picked up my cell phone and immediately called my husband. My voice went up a few octaves as I explained I received an apparently important letter. I stood in the same spot at the front door unable to move, with shaky hands holding the unopened letter. “What does it say?” He asked inquisitively. “I don’t know. I’m too scared to open it. I think I’ll just wait until you get home from work and then you can open it.” I said, holding back the tears. “Keana, I need to know what the letter says incase I need to make phone calls to them right away. I’ll stay on the line, you got to open it.”

I ripped open the letter and as I read out the words on the phone to him, all of the emotions caught in my throat and then the instant gut wrenching, heart sinking feelings hit, along with tears. The letter stated that I hadn’t complied to what they requested, as per a phone call conversation ( the exact date of the phone call printed in bold), and as a result, any and all funds were rescinded by a specified date. I was officially being cut off.