Month: October 2015

The Tilly Rivers Story-Part 2

Dear World- it’s me Tilly

The Tilly Rivers story—Continued from Part 1.

Writing about yourself can be taken from others as egotistical, and to be honest with myself, as I try hard to look at both my strengths and weaknesses, I will admit that part of it is ego driven, after all I have accomplished a lot in my life, have walked the edge of brimstone and thought there were times I would fall into the pit of darkness never to return, but I did…return that is, and am proud of my walk, the good and the ugly, so maybe ‘ego’ isn’t the right word, maybe pride is. I am proud of myself, so if you are reading this and thinking- man what an ego- well my friend, your are right, but confident, not cocky.  The dictionary says ego is: a sense of self-esteem, with synonyms of : self-worth and  self-respect. Is life not about learning from your experiences and moving on?

The boring stuff about me….

Neither of my parents had an extra-large family, considering the time period when families had 13 or more kids. My father had 2 brothers and 1 sister. My mom had 3 brothers and 1 sister, relatively small when you think of the era.

Is this the part where I insert a bit of family culture? Sure…why the hell not. Oh, did I mention I curse a lot? So you can expect bad words like fuck, hell, damn, shit and motherfucker in here? I am sure I did ~giggles~

Recently I did some digging in my family history, and put together a small book about my ancestors and their journey for my siblings and immediate family. It was certainly eye-opening and I discovered that I am a miss-mash of European French,  Irish, Scottish and English- good lord what a mix of…..a mix of…..well…..mix of culture. (Tee Hee)

…and now the teaser…oh come on, you knew I was going to, it’s called a hook and every writer uses them…

It has been said that French lovers, are the best lovers- pour nous savons l’art de touche, et vivre la passion au plus plein. (for we know the art of touch and experience passion to the fullest ).  And hence the reason I will leave discussing me as a lover to the last…of course I know you can just skip to the last entry if you are reading this in sequence…so maybe the lover section will not be last after all but in part three…or ten….~ giggles~ truth is I don’t know when I will write it, for the stories and memories unfold as they do.

Where was I? God I even confuse me at times! Forgive the rambling- it is just going to happen, part of who I am.

Me- the Niece.  All of my aunts and uncles were married, and are dear to my heart, but the distance made it easy for me to be a ‘niece’. It was for the most part, a title, happenstance of birth as I only saw them a few times a year. To say I have a favourite aunt or uncle would not be a fair statement, as I did not have an opportunity to know all of my aunts and uncles well. But this I do know, the times when my parents were with their siblings, there was this vibe- an energy of love and laughter that I was VERY proud to be part of.  My parents loved beyond measure, their siblings, their parents, and most especially their children. I was very blessed, even if at times I was too young, or just to stupid to always recognize that fact.

Me- the Aunt…..~insert screeching brake sounds here~ Hey, I just noticed I did not mention sister in the line up of who I am in part one, how silly of me. Would this be the part where a physiologist’s spidey senses perk up? Come on- you know- spidey senses, as in Spiderman whenever there was danger- his senses would tingle. I am a firm believer that we all have them- spidey senses that is- or a sixth sense.

There I go again, off track ~smiles~ this mind of mine roams in a million directions at once. They say (and who are ‘they’ anyway and why are they always yakking? ~giggles~) – that is a sign of great intelligence- in this particular case I will agree with them, cause I am a very smart girl. ~giggles~ Just ask me, I’ll tell ya! he he- but I hate to burst your bubble, I love my siblings very much therefore the physiologist would be off the mark. Sure we have had our ups and downs- what siblings haven’t? But nothing big enough to break apart our bond.

Now that the side note is over, and back to my original thought- sister-no no wait, Aunt was my original thought, not sister ~damn are you still with me? I told you I would ramble! My point is  I will write about being a sister as well. After all I am the baby in the family- with 3 brothers and 2 sisters to my credit.

Aunt: and for the record, great-aunt…
I am the youngest of nine, six living members of the Rivers clan. Yes, Rivers is my real name- after the disaster of my first marriage I took back my name (along with my life!)- and no matter what the future holds- marriage or no- partner or no- I will NEVER take another’s name, I am a Rivers! I am me!

The countdown—
My eldest sister had 2 daughters; her 2 daughters have 5 children.
My eldest brother has 3 children(one is ‘technically” a step-daughter, but not to us!). They have 5 children.- are you getting scared yet? Hell- I’ve only just started.
Next sister-1 Child. Her child has 3.
Next brother- he has 7 children( 2 stepchildren) and they have 7 children- don’t worry- even I am getting confused.
The second youngest in the family ~insert drum roll here~ 7 children as well and at last count there are only 6 children born from the 7(4 of his children are still young).

Shit I’ve lost count, how many does that make? A shit load!

I love them all, even if I do not get to see some as often as I wish too. The fact is, as I was only seven when I was gifted with the title- aunt. Today, we (My nieces/nephews and I) rarely see each other, maybe once a year, and I suppose that happens in a large family. The second generation of nieces and nephews, sadly, is even worse-some I have only seen– maybe once– since they were born. I guess a family reunion is needed.

That is not really their fault, not seeing each other,  it is mine. I know that I put my career above most things, or at least I did. Not so much because of the love of money, or success, but for the drive not to fail, you see I had HUGE issues with failure; something I work on every day. Another touchy issue for me was being ‘poor’- as that is what I was growing up, dirt poor, as in having no money. I learned a very valuable lesson, not to long ago, when my Mom passed away about ‘poverty’ that I will share in the section about my Mom. She was a pretty amazing woman…and I think I will just wait to talk about her for a bit, if you don’t mind…my parents, and my abusive marriage will be the hardest parts for me to write about and the truth is I’m not ready to revisit that pain.

Why? Simple really in regards to my parents it’s because of how much I miss them and love them, they are both gone now. And my ‘X’ because of the abuse and while it no longer holds any power over me (most of the time) it is still a part of my life that I don’t shine a light on. I can say this— that my walk at the time through hell gifted me with 3 beautiful miracles. My children!!

To be continued….


The Tilly Rivers story Part # 1

Dear World it’s me- Tilly

Begin at the beginning, my name is Matilda.

To expose your life to others is a hard thing to do, especially my life. Not because I have had it harder, or easier than anyone else, not because my life is better, worse or in between, but because it is—mine. My demons, my truth, my walk. It takes courage to face the reality of who you are. My story, my memories are a blend of great hurt, great passion, great struggles and great success.

To write it, I would need to revisit places I do not want to go, abusive memories, and places of darkness, am I ready to face that? To write it I would need to be as honest as I can, as honest at least as my memory serves me, honesty is a value that I place great importance on, and it is weaved into the very fabric of who I am. To be honest means I may hurt others, as it is not just my life that will be in these pages, but the lives of others that helped shaped my days, some good, some not so. As we do not walk alone in this world now do we?

In the end, I have chosen to write this, for no other reason than by doing so, maybe—just maybe—I will be able to find those last lingering answers, and destroy the last wisps of pain.

I would love to tell you that this will end in happily-ever-after, but I can’t make those claims. As the ‘end’ has not been written yet. I will write, as if no one was reading this, that it is just me and the keyboard, and what happens…happens.

To begin at the beginning…

I am Tilly. My birth name officially is Matilda, named after my parental grandmother. Tilly for short…My family and a handful of friends call me Mickie. I was named after both my grandmothers, as the last child of nine, It was my Mom who decided to give me both grandmothers names. *rolling eyes*, yeah you guessed it, I just LOVE that…

Why Mickie? Cause my Dad took one look at me and said that my name was way to big for a girl no bigger than a…that’s right-‘mickie’, a term used for a small bottle of booze. It just stuck! To this day whenever I get together with my family or childhood friends they call me Mickie- Tilly seems to be just too hard to grasp. (I am smiling- my cute bratty smile, that I use often when I want to get away with anything). My other nick names? ‘Baby girl’ my parents called me this, but especially my Dad, and “mouse.’

I am the youngest of nine children in total, sadly before I was born, my parents lost three children. One girl and two boys.

I suppose when writing one’s life story, you should start with the early years, build up to the teens and later years, but me…being me…there will not be any rhyme or reason, nor logical sequence of events, as I think it, ‘so shall it be written’. ~smiles~

With me, there is always a twist, hence the phrase “Tilly Twist.” It sounds like a tornado doesn’t it? Or maybe a yummy candy. I twist everything! Not in a bad way, I just think differently and quickly. I question most things, and see in advance. My definition of twist is:  to rotate around something that remains stationary.

Another thing you will need to know about me as you are reading this is that I am a smart ass, and curse, so if language is an issue, you might not want to read anymore. My ‘smart-assedness’ (I made that word up- giggles)- will either make you laugh out loud or groan, or piss you off.

So, off we go down memory lane…
Okay maybe not.  Stalling I know but I am not ready to write any memories yet. Maybe you aren’t ready to read any, especially if you are getting to know me, really KNOW me for the first time.

Who am I? Which me? The author, poet, x-radio host, entrepreneur, photo enthusiast? The academic?
The Mom, the lover, the daughter, the sex symbol? The pagan?
The friend, aunt, niece, woman, child?

Or just me…? The lines blur, overlap and become one and none.

My fears…

I have had three great fears in my life, and if I have not conquered them, I have at least tamed them. I learned long ago not to be a victim, you have to take control of your life and face your fears.

Water: I had a great fear of water for many years, I did not learn to swim until I was in my late teens, and for someone who loves water…fearing it was a source of great sorrow. My Mother loved the water, and we never had the chance to really go ‘swimming’ together, as she is no longer with me in this lifetime.

When I was about eight, my brother and I were playing, naturally-where we should not of been.Just down the road from our house there was a creek, and on this particular cold winter day I decided it would be a great idea to go for a walk along the ice. Yep~smiles~ I was wrong, not a good idea at all, my brother tried to tell me, warned me that the ice would not be solid, but who really listens to their siblings? It does not take much of a leap to figure out what happened, I fail through the ice and my brother had to pull me out. He saved me…the first of many rescues.

Stories I am sure that will unfold later on, needless to say that I had an overwhelming fear of water after that. To this day, when I swim, my face/head never goes under the water. While I have tamed the fear, learned to swim and enjoy the water, I don’t snorkel or would never consider scuba diving.

I have often wanted to go white-water rafting, but the thought of me falling out of the raft and under the water, has kept me away, I have often watched others water ski and thought it looked like great fun until the skier takes a tumble in the water.

So, have I conquered my fear? No, but I have come to a compromise that allows me to love the water, and not give fear control. I swim, but my head needs to be above the surface, so scuba-diving is out of the question, or snorkeling…at least at the moment.

Spiders: Some say that a great fear is based on a traumatic event, like my fear of water, if that is the case, my fear of spiders must of happened when I was very young (or in another lifetime maybe),  as I can’t recall the ‘event’ in which brought about this fear.

At one point in my life, seeing a spider would paralyse me in fear. Slowly over the years I have faced that fear and now while I am not scared to the point of freezing, or screaming like a ninny (okay sometimes I still scream like a ninny!)- I can look at one–from afar–without coming completely unglued. Now– if one was to touch me, that may be a another story…and when they are close my heart still beats fast and my instinct is to flee…quickly!

Love: I do not fear loving, or the act of love. I fear dying without ever knowing what true love feels like. True love, of course is a relative term for each person; it is as personal as a pair of undies ~giggles~ some like thongs, and some are the cotton brief type- a personal choice. True love to me is about knowing and loving me for who I am, and me loving & knowing them for who they are. That I am perfect, and he is perfect, because of our imperfections. I’ve never really believed in love, not the kind where a person doesn’t hurt you, use you, take advantage of your goodness, not the kind where you fully and completely trust another. Sad I know, but the truth is the truth, for I have walked the walk of being hurt, great sadness and pain in the name of ‘love.’

True love for me is that you don’t need to change me in order to love me, (like my flaws are so awful that I am not worthy of love ‘as is) and demands and commands are not required. I know that I do not require another  to make us happy, for happiness is my own responsibility, and by being complete alone, we are capable of sharing and loving each other without limitations and chains.

I want a partner in my life, to share with, laugh with and enjoy life with. Not someone who is there for my money, or what I can do for them, not someone who doesn’t realize that their actions have consequences, that when you are in a relationship you are no longer ‘one’ you are a unit. Someone that puts our love first, not their own selfish desires first. I want to be loved wholly and completely not for my outside skin alone- but me.

A love where you never have to worry about your secrets being judged, your past being mocked, your present being reviewed and measured, or your dreams being ridiculed.

The kind of love where you are best friends and lovers, were passion is shared and grows. Of course I know that real love is the love of self, and I truly love me (most days), what I want is to be able to share all of who I am with that special someone.

I prayed (YES silly pagans pray!) one day, that man would come my life and have the same vision of what love is. Have I found him? If love, as I have said; is about imperfections…about acceptance as is, maybe just maybe I have tamed this fear as well.

I might not have a prince charming, but then again, he does not exist does he? This mystical prince- instead I may have something better…I might have a partner.

What I love…

In no particular order.

My father, (miss you DAD!!) to write, the rain, my family (as in my partner, and my children, and 2 beautiful angels(for reasons of privacy I am not naming names), my friends, nature, magick, taking pictures, shoes, music- all kinds other than old country, although I will admit there are a couple of songs I love that are old country, not because of the song or artist, but the memories that the song triggers.

My mother,(miss you MOM!) my siblings and their children, my cousins and extended family,critters, trees, horseback riding, art, sex, skydiving, touch, rocks and water, the seasons, learning-anything and everything, discovering, passionate people, conversations and debates, hiking, health, yoga, intelligence, purple, red, colour really- the sound of laughter, did I mention sex? Smell- the smell of great food, the smell of coffee, the smell of soap and perfume and the smell of life…tattoos, words, being naked…to kiss..and so much more.

What I hate…

Hate is such a strong word, and not one that I use very often, so instead I will use dislike. There is always a fine line between love and hate, and both emotions carry a great power, one positive, one negative. I am not about to let a negative emotion have that kind of hold over me. Did I mention I was a bit of a control freak? ~giggles~ Some say so, but what do they know?- ~smiles~

Parsnips-yuck, hmmmm…truly I think that’s it…it can’t be though, so I am going to guess that as I write I will find more dislikes. Wait- I am not that fond of bugs, the ugly ones- I Know, I know, not a nice thing to say, that cute bugs are okay but ugly ones aren’t, but there you have it just the same, ~giggles~ I do not like ugly bugs. Of course ugly is- as in beauty- in the eyes of the beholder-which creates balance- yes? Which means someone else likes the ugly ones, so all is good. ~giggles~

Dividing the sections…
Maybe instead of visiting memory lane, I will divide this story of me into the sections I mentioned above, the parts of me that creates a whole.
So which me shall we start with? What do you want to know about the most? Of course it is the lover-yes? Then…I will just have to leave that for last. Now don’t groan and pout- it’s good marketing-just like when you watch those horrible television reality shows, they keep you hanging…
Let’s start with something boring…and relatively safe for me to talk about…..

To be continued


Perfection is not in what is perfect, it’s in the imperfections-reality-truth
It is obstacles defeated, mars of the body, dents in the soul
Perfection is in the ability to see above,beyond and over, what others may view as damaged
Perfect to me is being real, true to yourself, not about image
Not about the illusion of what you want to show-Not about the perfect face, the careful mask
The flawless make up
Perfect is about the courage to be confident with every scar showing


Aristotle- Ten of my favourite quotes

  1. Anybody can become angry – that is easy, but to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way – that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy.
  2. The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.
  3. There is no great genius without some touch of madness.
  4. You will never do anything in this world without courage. It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honor.
  5. Nature does nothing in vain.
  6. Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.
  7. Change in all things is sweet.
  8. Men create gods after their own image, not only with regard to their form but with regard to their mode of life.
  9. The soul never thinks without a picture.
  10. No one loves the man whom he fears.