When I Get There

I spent a lot of my life running away from myself.

I spent a long time pretending I just wanted to explore any opportunities that came my way, but the reality is that I just wanted to put space between and all of my trauma and mistakes so I could commit to being the best version of myself for my kids. Other people craved being extraordinary; I just wanted to be normal. All those things people took for granted; parents, a home, healthy interpersonal relationships, mundane lives; I would look at them with envious eyes desperate for them.

I didn’t want to face down all of the things that made me feel broken so I had a plan; just keep on moving. Eventually I’d reach a point where no one really knew who I was and I could be anyone! I didn’t have to be the broken toy with PTSD. I could be something better. So I did that. I pretended the years 19-21 didn’t exist. I moved as far away as I could. I changed my hair and my hobbies and music tastes and became someone I felt could be seen as normal. It’ll totally work, right?

I mean, it did for a bit. I was a completely different person.

I also lost every bit of my strength and character and became a whiny little bitch.

I didn’t like who I was so I decided that no one ever could and kept putting space between myself and the carefully curated version of me that I felt was okay. I stopped listening to fave songs because they reminded me of things I either didn’t want to remember because they were traumatic, or because they were happy times I ached to relive. I spent the last 14 years since my divorce trying to be someone worthy of love and friendship, someone that would be seen as a whole human and not just a fractured person with trust issues and anxiety. So I kept framing and rearranging until I could be someone that I thought I could love. Instead of wanting to be happy, I wanted people to like me. I became a people pleaser and constantly romanticized people who treated me like absolute crap.

But part of marrying your high school sweetheart is that there’s no running from the old you. You’re kind of stuck visiting your hometown and being confronted with all of the memories you long to escape. But there’s also something about healing your past traumas that allows you the space and the grace to accept the love you actually deserve and realize how unhealthy the things you allowed were. For the first time in my life I am loved for exactly who I am, both by myself and by someone else. I don’t feel like I have to pretend to be someone that’s digestible to be happy. Every once in a while I find this part of me and I live my best life, but then something happens and I go back to people pleasing. Maybe I get lonely. Maybe I worry people won’t like me if I just act like my loud, ridiculous, anxious little self. Then I find a new city, and try again to be what people want me to be so people will like me. Soon enough I’m a robot going through the motions until I feel like I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

But this time feels different. Maybe it’s because choosing self love attracted the type of love I’ve always wanted from a companion. My partner loves me for me. He’s seen the best and worst of me and all of my many personas and side quests and he still just loves me. He doesn’t just love me; he respects me, he protects my feelings, he supports me. He compliments me and shows up in a million little ways. There’s something so heartwarming about knowing someone sees you for who you are and still thinks you’re swell. So whenever It makes you evaluate how others treat you, including yourself.

I have talked about my falling out with my former best friend, but I romanticized the Hell out of that relationship. I looked at the good times and not all of the times she mocked my weight (great look from a personal trainer), or told me how I was a good small dose friend, or only called me to vent about how her husband was possibly cheating on her. I even reached out to own my part in why things went south and was met with the same old deflection and zero accountability. I realized how much I’d allowed that over the years. How I’d spent so long feeling like the person I kept running from was somehow unworthy of love or friendship. As I read through her email where she twisted the narrative about how she ghosted me and didn’t do anything wrong ever (even though I’m the one ceased communication, unfollowed and blocked her on social media). Two years ago I would have grovelled and begged for another chance and I would make myself even smaller to please them and feel worthy of a friend, but this time I felt nothing. Not even worth dignifying with a response. I don’t need to settle for friendships where my only purpose is to be a sounding board and a punching bag, and they are nowhere to be found when I need them. I reached out because I was nostalgic for the person I knew and wanted to be friends with that person, but that person doesn’t really exist and deep down I knew it. I don’t wish them ill will; I also don’t want to be friends with them. The response helped me realize that I am finally in a place of healing where I no longer have to beg people to let me take care of them. Now I ask to be an equal in all of my relationships. I’m not ashamed of my upbringing or the trauma of my early adulthood anymore. Maybe now I can finally love the girl I was so I can embrace the woman I am and finally focus only on relationships that honour me, instead of begging for scraps of friendship from people who make me feel like less than.

Thoughts? Feedback? Just want to share ideas or chat? Send me an email or contact me on social media!

Private Eye

My favourite game to play online is “read my old Facebook memories and remember how cringy I used to be.”

I’ve always been a pretty ridiculous person, I always remind people that the more trauma you’ve been through, the funnier you get to be, so naturally, I am the most hilarious person on this planet (I have references). But I also don’t really shy away from cringy or stupid, and I’m always so amused by how much dumb shit I used to post online. Over the years I’ve realized how important it is to be fiercely protective of yourself and your life, which is why my social media feed is mainly just memes and my cats. When you give too much of yourself, you open up yourself for people to take parts of you. That’s something I’ve learned is a non negotiable.

(Although I also learned that I was ahead of the COVID curve by about four years)

This also helped me learn that I’ve lived in Edmonton for NINE YEARS. Guys. I stayed in one place for nine years! Through the stalker ex boyfriends that showed up at my hotel, job changes, life changes, friendships, and 300 bad dates, I am still here. Who saw this coming?I wonder if it’s because I truly love my home city, or simply because I’ve run out of places to run. Vancouver is pretty expensive, and after that it’s the ocean. I’d run east but I’m allergic to fish so what do I eat in the Maritimes? I always vowed never to backtrack, so maybe I’ve reached the limits of how far I can run.

Those who know me well know that when it comes to fight, flight, or freeze, I only have one response; run. Name your scenario and I assure you I have run from it. Job losses, breakups, mild inconveniences, a fierce desire to escape my hometown and never return, there is no situation where I can’t look at it and go “yup, I’m out of here,” and run like Hell. I have run from every relationship I’ve ever had, save for the one I should have sprinted away from like Usain Bolt. I once fled a party in the middle of the night thanks to a conversation that consisted of only two words. Hell, I tried to run away from my own wedding, and only said “I do” because of the rain. You name it, I’ve probably bolted out the door as far away from it as humanly possible. Men who could have been good for me (or terribly bad for me) have been left in the dust as I pleaded with my mind to invent a reason why it could never work and run into the night. I’ve never stayed in one place for more than three years because there’s always something I need; to write, to escape, to create space. No where was off limits except for my hometown; I used to wish on stars that I’d leave and never look back. Some people look at their hometown as a fun nostalgic place. For me it’s a source of trauma that slowly chipped away at the bright eyed little girl I was, leaving the woman that I am. While I take solace that the trauma has made me HILARIOUS, the more space I can put between me and that town of evil, the better.

(Somewhere, a cousin or a friend is gonna read this and tell me it’s not that bad, but I assure you, you will never convince me. I can be stubborn, and I will never back down on this point)

But I’m still here. Sure the house isn’t the same, as it took me a couple of tries to find the right one, but my house provides me with a sense of stability I’ve never really had outside of living in my foster home. There are no spectres of tenants past haunting the walls or my mailbox. Gone are the days of wondering who the person behind the mis-delivered credit card bills is; this is my home. My daughter intends to start university here in the fall and I am so fiercely proud of that young woman. My job is the most fun I’ve ever had in the workforce. It combines my favourite things; playing with new tech, and talking your ear off until you will hear my voice in your sleep. My friends are here. Even though my best friend out here is a Markham export, I couldn’t navigate life without her and her insanity. She’s the best human being alive (she will tell you she is evil), and my life is made better because she’s my friend and we have ramen. But every friend I’ve made out here has been the best person, and while I miss my friends back home (I haven’t seen anyone in SIX YEARS), I wouldn’t want to do life without the weirdos out here I call my friends.

Look at this ramen

As part of my never ending quest to be the best type of person I can be, I’ve allowed my therapist to really help me dive in to the why factor. Why is it that I always need to leave? Part of it was to escape a childhood that left me abused and damaged that I was terrified I wouldn’t be a good person. Most of my formative years were spent fleeing from situations; evictions, poverty, cycles of abuse. The only stability I ever had was in a foster home and that was only six years. I don’t think I ever knew what stability was and I decided it had an expiration date on it. The only time I ever doubled down was on my marriage, where I was determined to make it work, even though everyone and their dog knew it was wrong, including me. Between the feelings like I owed him and the guilt that stemmed from trying to race out of there, I resigned myself to staying, no matter how poorly I was treated or how many bruises I ended up with. I always joke that I’ve been engaged twice and married once, and never has it been my decision. If you ever run into him, he will tell you how I’m a life ruining succubus that destroyed his potential, but every story needs a villain, maybe I’m his. The only thing of permanence in my life was my role as a mother to my children. Homes, cities, relationships are all expendable except for them, and they come with me.

So why am I still here? What is it about Edmonton that keeps me here? Is it the space that allows me to live in a big city without feeling suffocated? Is it my friends? The close proximity to mountains? Did I finally exorcise my demons and leave them with the leeches in Lake Huron, never to haunt me again. Maybe it was the desire to give my kids stability. Maybe I secretly love the cold. Truthfully, I couldn’t tell you, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I have a real home and no desire to check indeed and pack up again. The feeling of “home” that I’ve chased since I was a child seems to be here, or I’ve deluded myself, but either way, it’s magical. Every time someone visits me I show them around like a proud parent at the art fair. I even like the Oilers. Maybe it’s because I started dedicating myself to giving back to this community that has brought me the peace and belonging I’ve craved since I was five years old that I finally can stop moving (unless I switch houses again, but I doubt it. I’ll die here).

My therapist thinks that perhaps my desire to stay in Edmonton and build a less nomadic life for my family is a sign of growth, and I can finally stop running away from my emotions. I can assure him that’s probably not the case, as one time someone got all let’s talk about our feelings and I almost crashed my car into a Volvo. But it’s nice to see that I’m capable of remaining in one place and finding the feeling of home.

The Great War

Have you ever looked in the mirror and not even recognized yourself anymore?

That’s how I feel. I don’t even recognize this person anymore. This year has been so challenging and it’s pretty much stripped away all of my best qualities, to the point where I feel like a tired old lady just ready to live with my cats and wither into dust. My finances are a mess, thanks to layoffs and lesser paying jobs, and the lack of child support. Every time I have to say no, I just feel bad. Parents should be able to afford a Slurpee, or a trip to McDonald’s, without counting all of the crack change. I should be able to send my eleventh grader lunch money. I should be able to go shopping for cute winter clothes. But instead, I’m always saying “next time,” and I know deep down they resent me because next time never comes. I’ve cut out everything that brings me any semblance of joy except for my morning cup of tea and even then, I don’t get one three days a week because I was putting money away for Xmas. I haven’t been to the gym in forever but I never picked up my shoes. I felt like if I did, it was defeat, that I would never go back. I don’t go out with my friends. Hell, I barely text. Also, if you’re my friend, I’m sorry I suck at communicating. I hate my weight, my hair, my skin, everything about my appearance and I just feel like I’ve failed at pretty much everything. It’s been a struggle to get out of bed some days. The cup isn’t half full or half empty; it’s just empty.

I suppose the last two years has taken its toll. There’s only so much you can give of yourself before you have nothing left, like the giving tree. And it’s only so long before you snap. I had two of those moments. The first one was when I needed coverage at work for a family emergency and I was told there was no one. Something in my brain snapped. For years I helped EVERYONE. Needed a shift covered? MHC. Needed help with staffing? MHC. Sick days? psh! I ONLY TOOK ONE DAY OFF FROM WORK WHEN I ALMOST DIED! And yet, the universe said “no one wants to go to where you are,” while I cried at work needing help. I called one of my colleague friends and bawled because he is an Angel sent from God. He found me some help and I could go home. But the whole way I was enraged. I loved my colleagues. I’m forever grateful to my DM for giving me a job, but I realized in that second I was right back where I was last year; trapped in a job I had to devote every second of myself to. I wanted to give my DM that person, but I don’t have it in me to give anymore. She deserves a top performer who can give her that level of buy in.

So I quit.

I found a new job with a living salary and more work life balance. I gave my notice and starting next month, I can stop selling phones once and for all and do a job that allows me to use my skills; training, development, and support. I’m excited. I was shocked I got it tbh. Do you know how many awesome candidates are looking for work? And I’m just me. But it’s a much needed change. I’ll be able to see my kids and clean my house. Maybe pet my cats. Maybe go on more dates and finally see my friends. I haven’t hung out with one of my best friends since July. It sucks dude. It’s gonna be nice to do stuff with my people again starting with the annual holiday party.

But, that was just one moment of clarity, the other came when I was a casualty of the Great War, AKA the battle to see my Lord and Saviour, Taylor Allison Swift.

I haven’t been anywhere in years. I couldn’t even go to my friend’s wedding. My kids are tired from school, teen pressures, and helping take care of their grandma when I’m at work. They deserved a trip. The opening act (Gracie Abrams) is my 15yo’s fave non Taylor performer. So I socked away every cent I had for nosebleeds. I gave up every minor luxury I have, banked the rest. I knew the tour was coming and I was going to come through. I had Verified Fan access that was supposed to carry me to the presale. I would use my income tax refund for flight and hotel, and for once, I wasn’t gonna say no. I was going to give them this one thing for Xmas and our Taycation was going to be magical. Instead, I got this.

My heart broke as the tire fire known as ticketmaster shut me out. I went to stubhub only to have my life ruined. My tiny little amount for our four shitty nosebleeds couldn’t even cover one ticket, let alone four. I had to say no again. No Taycation. No happy kids at Xmas that mom came through. Just another time I had to disappoint them. Between my work schedule, and my bank balance, and the realization that I wasn’t coming through for them, my brain broke again.

I COMPLETELY understand this is a first world issue. I am well aware that not taking my kids to see Taylor Swift won’t ruin my life. But it was just another no. Another “not this time.” I know it wasn’t my fault, and Ticketmaster is the dirt worst, but suddenly all of those times I had to say no flooded my brain; the slurpees, the tacos, the new shirt, that used CD, the discounted book, the hair dye, all of it. Every next time, or I’m sorry we don’t have it, every one just flashed through my eyes like a death scene in a movie, ending with the emptiness that this concert that meant so much to them was now, just another no. So I sat in my car and cried. I’d tell myself it’ll be okay, but we all know it’s not. It’s another thing I couldn’t do while the parents around me take their kids to Mexico for spring break and buy concert tickets for good grades. I moved them to a more affluent area and sometimes barely make rent, but I did it so they’d get a better education. But now they see how much more their friends parents can do for them. They’re good kids. They get good grades. They help at home, and are good to their friends and cats. But I let them down spectacularly every day and it just sucks.

After I was done my crying and generally being miserable, wallowing in how 2022 has been the absolute worst. It challenged me physically, mentally, and I’ve lost so much financially and I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I used to take so much pride in my appearance, in my work ethic, and in my life. Now, I just don’t care. I dug a hole and I couldn’t get out. Getting a new job is awesome, but I need to fix me or I’m just transferring the misery. So, I got to work. I deep cleaned my house. I started working out at home. I called a credit counsellor to work through my debt, whether it’s through a debt management program or a consumer proposal. It sucks, but it’s what I need to do. If I don’t have to stress about money as much, little things won’t get to me, and there will be fewer instances of no. I started getting up earlier and actually wearing makeup again. I started going to bed at a reasonable time. Also, I started forgiving myself for the things I’ve been beating myself up about. I can’t change that I got laid off. I can’t fix that I put on weight because I couldn’t work out for five months. I can’t change the fact that Ticketmaster sucks. But what I can do is change my situation. I can keep watching stubhub and seat geek for cheap resale tickets. I can keep an eye for Canadian dates. I can make time to work out. I can focus on budgeting smarter with the help of the counsellor. That will help me have more money to go to the gym and say yes to a few of those smaller things. I can go into my new job motivated and excited. I can continue to focus on being a present and active parent. These are things I can change.

While the answers aren’t ideal, at least there feels like a light at the end of the tunnel, except for the Taylor Swift tickets. That shit is just hopeless. But I will be able to look in the mirror in a few months and recognize who I’m looking at, and maybe even like that person too.

Carolina

When it rains, it pours, let me tell you.

Remember how I almost died? Well, 2022 decided to further kick me in the face! My company faced some financial hardships, and almost all of us were laid off. Suddenly I went from feeling confident in my future to worried about losing my house. It was tough. I have nothing negative to say about my time with the company. This is a great organization with great people. I’m honoured to have been part of it. I met really great people and I’m lucky to be friends with many of them. It was a rewarding experience. But, I have to pay bills and even when life gets you down, there’s a silver lining. One of my former colleagues works for another organization and she was gracious enough to offer me a position. I’m super excited to be part of this company. She’s a great leader and I feel like I can learn a lot from her. Most importantly, I’ve been reunited with colleagues and friends that I loved working with. It’s a really cool time for me work wise.

However, switching jobs means switching pay periods. Money is tight. Benefits are non existent for the next three months. Trying to scrape together money for medication has been tough. Speaking of medication, I’m still fighting my doctor for a referral to a specialist and I’m not getting anywhere. The tooth I had a root canal in has been feeling off (not painful, just weird), so anxiety says my tooth is falling out and I’ll be ugly. I’ve been afraid to work out since my pulmonary embolism. I’m just very down on myself.

I deleted my dating apps a few weeks ago. I got stood up and just decided that was it. But I’ve been noticing the way I look at myself hasn’t been great. I genuinely don’t see the point of trying to date when I feel genuinely ugly. Any time someone suggests that I date someone, I just say I am too ugly and crazy have WAY too much baggage. Whether or not i was interested was irrelevant; I was just too ugly to even consider it as an option. Everything is just about looks it feels. Even when I was explaining my frustration with my doctor, my friend kept bringing it back to my weight, even though it was about my doctor only wanting me to take one kind of medication. When I went into Lululemon I was asked if I was shopping for gifts because “we don’t accommodate plus size.” I realized my weight will always be my defining character trait until I lose it again, so there’s no point in putting myself out there to meet anyone. I just feel like the annoying person people engage with because they work with me or whatever. Hell, even some of my friends always tell me how I’m doing so great on my own and they see me as the type of person who will be happy with their cats, alone and don’t need anyone. They meant it as a compliment; I felt like it meant I’m not really a catch. I don’t think I’m a catch. It’s either that or reminders that the general population says me as some kind of airhead with no substance and talks too much. If I had a dollar for every time I heard “shut up Mary-Helen,” I’d never have money problems again. All of my report cards with “talks too much,” are now making me wonder if I’m really just…not partner material. All of a sudden dating just felt like a waste of of time so I just sort of gave up.

I get this is just anxiety. Deep down I know I’m not ugly or stupid and my tooth probably isn’t going to be extracted or fall out (but until the dentist says so, I’m gonna be a little scared). But I also have to internalize a lot because a lot of times, my feelings are sort of dismissed as “you’re fine,” or “it’s fine,” while I’m kind of expected to be there for everyone and it’s overwhelming. When I’m helping my kids with body image issues, I can’t really open up about my own. I won’t have benefits for three months so therapy is off the table for a bit. It’s also the feeling of not being in control of every situation to give myself the stability I need to thrive. So, I needed to figure out how do I pull myself out of this rut? I can’t just cry and I’m not allowed to drink so functional alcoholism seems to be off of the table for now. I needed a new plan to help pull myself out of this mental health spiral.

I’ve started goal setting using an app called Finch. It has all sorts of things to help with wellness and keep anxiety in check. One goal was to fill all of my Apple Watch rings in July. I need to build healthy habits. I get up thirty minutes before I have to so I can meditate and set the tone for the day. I went so long without putting on makeup or even trying to take pride in my appearance, so I make sure to at least do my eyes every morning, and do my hair as well. No more ponytails. I get to work forty minutes early so I can mentally prepare for my shift and make an action plan for the day. They’re baby steps, but hopefully they’ll turn into strides. It’s gonna be a journey, but I’ve pulled myself out of darker places. I just need to focus on the things that I need to thrive;

1. Fitness

2. Family

3. Friends

4. Ways to grow at work

This means getting over my fear of fitness. I have to remember that it wasn’t exercise that hurt me, it was the medication that caused the blood clots. I’ve taken steps to recover. I have to trust my body is healing and ready to get back into shape. I can start off slowly and eventually get back to the point where I’m seeing results. Obviously this situation has caused me to make some major dietary changes, so between that and the fitness, I should see the results I’m hoping to see, and I can celebrate my commitment to health.

As for dating, I’m gonna stay away for now. Until I can see myself as someone worthy of love, I can’t. That’s how I ended up with people who were abusive or mean before. I don’t want to settle, so until my response is no longer “no way, I’m way too old/fat/ugly/stupid” when anyone suggests a possible date for me, I can’t even consider it. I can’t be a good partner to someone else when my inner monologue is treating my psyche like shit. This way I can avoid being preyed on by some creep, and when the time comes, I’ll be emotionally ready to be a good partner…In theory.

All I Know So Far

Let me tell you the story of MHC’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.

Yes, last week was the week of suck. First, I got sick. For those of you who know me, I rarely get sick. But here I was coughing, sneezing, and feeling like crap. I went into one store without a mask to grab some milk and felt like shit the next day. I will never not wear a mask again, I swear to God. Covid test was negative, but I still felt awful. I even missed a day of work, which never happens! I feel better but I have a cough that won’t stop, so I sound like I’ve smoked for 15 years.

My health has been tough this year. PCOS has done a number on my body. I’m also in constant pain. But this weekend, I was in so much pain that I couldn’t stand up, and it hurt to breathe. This turned out to be something called decidual cast, which is super fucking gross. Apparently this happens sometimes when your body is responding to treatments, so there may be light at the end of the tunnel. The doctor said there can be mild discomfort, which is medical speak for “you will double over and cry at work from the worst pain you have ever been in besides labour, but also finish your shift and sell a phone because you’re a boss bitch.” By the time I got home, I was embarrassed, felt disgusting, and just kind of wanted to die.

Then the kids got sick, and I had to take them for Covid tests. As a parent, it sucks to see your kids sick. Nothing is more stressful than watching them get a Covid test. There’s all sorts of uncertainty, fear, and even guilt. I got sick first, even though I tested negative, I felt guilty about possibly giving them a potentially deadly virus. Instead I accidentally gave them a regular virus. They pulled through okay, but it was still a struggle. I’m still taking care of my mom, who was just released from the hospital after a fall. She’s been having a tough time readjusting to being at home and needing more home care. Everything sort of feels tense, and it’s harder when everyone is under the weather. Between work, life, trying not to cough (& yet constantly coughing), my body falling apart, and trying to help my mom, I felt like I was drowning. I even had to pull my car over to puke on my way to work, so basically I’m living the dream. Just as I was done with this week, the Universe decided a final fuck you was in order:

OThat’s right! A TEN INCH CRACK IN MY BRAND NEW CAR’S BRAND NEW WINDSHIELD BECAUSE OF A GOD DAMN ROCK. That’s now a $400 repair that I did not want right before back to school season. But, sometimes life sucks ass and you gotta do what you gotta do. But if it was gonna go wrong this week, it did and I’m honestly over it.

When things go super wrong and everything is awful, all you can do it look for the positives. Yes, it sucks when your body does painful, disgusting things while you’re also hacking up your guts, but after months and months of wanting to feel normal again, this was the first step. It sucks to see your kids sick, but they’re getting better. Caregiving can be tedious, but I’ve been fortunate to have a great homecare company helping me out now, and my mom is slowly but surely starting to move towards normalcy. We’re working out the kinks, but we’re getting there. The kids have stepped up to help and I’m so lucky to have such compassionate, loving, caring kids.

And my car? Oh, that’s just shitty. Part of learning how to overcome stressful situations is to accept that everything happens for a reason, and that sometimes, stuff just sucks. You take it, and you move on.

Bad things happen, but they aren’t permanent. You’ve just gotta push forward. The best part of MHC’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week is that it’s over, and a new week has started. To prevent this week from also becoming no terrible, horrible, no good, and very bad is to leave the week there. You can’t change what happened, but throwing a pity party for yourself only keeps you in that negative space. Too often we dwell on crappy situations or events, or we do the opposite, and rely on toxic positivity to cope instead of just accepting the situation or finding a new strategy. The highlight of my week is that it’s over and that’s okay.

Fingers crossed that this week will be better. I don’t feel like death, it’s not ten million degrees, the kids are better, and I have an appointment to fix my car. So far, so good! Here’s hoping it keeps up, and we can have great experiences, and put the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad times behind us…we hope.

Don’t Let It Break Your Heart

How’s everyone holding up? Still doing okay? Sad? Poor? Sad and poor? Consider this your mental health check in.

I’ve always prided myself at using my writing as an honest look into my life. This will be no exception. Folks, I’m damn tired.

Times have been tough man. My mom took ill at the start of COVID, adding some new financial and emotional responsibilities. My brother has been here to help, but I’m still calling the doctors, making the appointments, picking up the medication, the girls and I are cleaning the house and cleaning her room, and guys, that’s a lot when you’re raising three kids. There’s the emotional toll that comes with your parents getting older. Things feel darker, like maybe they won’t see your kid graduate. Maybe they won’t be a great grandparent. There’s all this guilt because you need to be home to cook dinner because you don’t want to burden the kids and you sleep through your alarms until you are running behind and end up skipping breakfast.

There’s the financial setbacks. Paying some of the back bills from the shutdown while paying current bills, all while the Family Responsibility Office reduces you to tears by screaming at you that it’s not their job to make sure your support payments come so accept reality that it’s not coming and stop bothering them.

This means sacrifices must be made. Those gym passes? They gotta wait girl. That’s grocery money now, because the support money you earmarked for groceries isn’t coming ever. The Halloween costumes your kids picked out? Nada. You’re now explaining to them that we’re gonna use last year’s and stuff from home because that money is now earmarked for insurance. Meanwhile you’re scraping every cent to make sure that you can get your oldest’s university application fee together. It’s not like you can make it to the gym because there’s so much to do at home and sometimes you volunteer to work late or a sixth day, or a seventh, because you want to give back to the good people you work with and those sales mean a chance to get ahead. That’s my reality my dudes. I’m tired and my weekly weigh in is sub-optimal, so I binge watch Drag Race for six hours after everyone is in bed and then lurk on the Bachelor on Reddit (despite never having watched the Bachelor) wallowing in my own depression and feeling like I’m failing at every aspect of my life.

I’ve stopped wearing makeup, because what’s the point. I’ve felt fat & ugly. I’ve felt bad at fitness. Bad at parenting. But mostly, because I’m not living up to expectations. There’s only so many times you can tell the kids next time/next year before they just stop asking. They know it’s not happening, and it’s because I let them down. Fitness is a losing battle. I know at 4:30 someone at home will call about an issue, and now it’s just not in the budget. I go for 3.5 km walks every other night and use my home fitness app, but it’s not the same. I feel like Sisyphus, pushing the Boulder up for it just to roll back down. I decided writing about it may help some other person feeling so overwhelmed know they aren’t all alone. Rona is making everyone’s mental health hard.

I cope by practicing gratitude. Maybe that’s dumb, but I feel like the only way to push through times that aren’t ideal is by reminding ourselves of all the good around us. For example, my family is rad. I have the best kids in the world and we have made this life thing work. I have an amazing job that paid me during Covid. I have a great team of reps and support from others to help so I can recharge with some time off. I live in a beautiful neighbourhood so I can go for walks. I have a home app I can use for my fitness until I can lift heavy things again. My mom’s health has improved significantly. She has a helpful nurse. My friends are always there for me. Life will never feel bleak if you can look and be grateful for what you’ve got.

Life isn’t all sunshine and roses, and pretending it is will only destroy you the minute it stops going well. Tough times are gonna happen. For me, that time is now. But if I waste my time and space dwelling on those things, I’m never going to get out of that black hole. My best friend always says to choose your attitude, so each night before I go to bed, I make a mental list of everything awesome in my life and thank the universe for it. This way, when these tough times are over, I can remain grateful. I’ll appreciate the gym more once I can get back. I’ll cherish that time more. I’ll go back to work with a renewed focus and help my team be better. I’ll look in the mirror and see someone to invest in, not to feel disappointed in. I’ll be more appreciative of little things, like that colleague that was kind enough to cover a shift for my vacation, or how my friend and I always take turns buying Starbucks. Maybe I’m naive, but I’d rather always search for good ever when everything feels less than good. I’ll build on all the good things until these times pass and there is only good. For me, it’s the best way to keep my bubbly spirit up while navigating tough times, and I’d rather be grateful than let depression rule my life. It’s a tough road, but I’ll get there.

Fall On Me

Oh, hey everyone.

Anyone been outside? Enjoyed life? I hope you have been. It’s been nice. Kids and I have been driving to St. Albert to enjoy our favourite trail. It’s been nice to get out and enjoy the sun, which as you know is my favourite thing. I’ve been doing a lot of walking to get my Vitamin D fix. In the province of cows, we only get so many nice days, gotta make em count.

I haven’t been sharing much, mostly because nothing much has changed. I’m back at work, but my mom has been struggling with her health, I stayed inside a lot, and I’m hella depressed. Quarantine has been tough tbh. Can I admit it’s tough? I’m a social person by nature and being home all the time with no one to hang out with has been hard. My gym was closed until this week and workouts at home are hard when you have kids that need all of your attention. When you are a person that takes pride in your work, not having a lot of work to do is a stressor. Skip the dishes is easier than cooking and I’ve gained weight. I’ve been really depressed and disengaged from my life. I’m normally very positive, but lately, I haven’t been. I just kind of want to do nothing, which is what I do.

I feel guilty even talking about this. The world is full of real problems. There is a plague. People are unemployed. There are people getting killed for the colour of their skin. There could possibly be murder hornets. My mom isn’t well. My friends are worried about money. There are real issues plaguing the Earth and mine feel very small. In the grand scheme of things, they are very small. I think lately I’ve been caught up so much into my life, that I’m missing that it’s all very small. Sure, there’s big stuff, like caring for an elderly parent and the stuff that goes with it. But the rest is so small. Money worries, work worries, feeling fat and inadequate, all small things. There is so much going on in the world that needs our attention, and our assistance, that this stuff is just small shit that can work itself out. As lonely and isolated as I feel, or helpless and hopeless, it’s still so small. The world just feels very dark right now, and I guess it’s taking a toll on my mental health. I’m burned out and emotionally exhausted & I feel just very hopeless about the world around me & I don’t really want to participate in the universe right now.

If my friends called me and told me they were depressed and felt like they were a lonely speck in the universe in a sea of real issues, I would remind them that the only way to help the world heal is to make sure you are healthy enough to make a difference. I wouldn’t let them sit miserable while they let the best of themselves fall behind. But that’s what I do to myself; I put myself last. My kids, my mom, my job, it all comes first. So, now I’m trying to give from nothing. Guys, I’ve got nothing to give. I’m exhausted and my self esteem is so low it’s sad. I can’t empower others if I’m eating chips and wishing I wasn’t completely apathetic towards my own life. So, right now, I need to pull myself out of the depression spiral and try to get back to me again.

My gym reopening will help. I’ll get an hour three times a week where I don’t need to be “on.” I don’t need to be super mom or the daughter doing everything or whatever. I can just be an athletes doing exercise things. I need to make time to go running and not just binge watch Naruto. These things are how I re-charge my batteries so I can live my life. The only way to be mentally well is to stop putting garbage in my body and actually take care of it, and allow myself time for me.

I’ve also taken up cooking because it’s cheaper and healthier than Skip. Some of its been good. Other stuff needs work. But it’s something to keep me busy and help me live better. Also, food tastes better when you make it all yourself.

The world does have a million problems, and sometimes it’s hard to see that there’s still good in the world when it’s hidden by the plague, the fact that people of colour are still being targeted for hate, or the Tracker Jacker murder hornets. It’s hard, but we all need to summon all the strength to do our best to show up and be present so we can do more together. Let’s all be good to each other…

…and wash your damn hands.

It is What it is

Hey all you cool cats and kittens…

…truth time: I never finished Tiger King. I have the last episode left. I’m the worst with TV. I haven’t finished Glow either. Or Nailed It. Or anything I start except Brooklyn 99. Also the kids got me into Naruto. It’s fun except I love every character except Naruto. But my London friends are super proud that I’m finally into anime besides Sailor Moon and Dragon Ball Z.

Anyway, how’s life? You good? Has your new normal of teaching kids at home and zoom calls and NEVER GOING OUT ANYWHERE EVER AGAIN been treating you well? Here’s an update; this fucking sucks. It’s not all terrible. I’ve been catching up on my fitness at home, the kids and I binge watch the Simpsons, pro wrestling, and anime because we are the coolest people ever. My company is graciously paying me during this time so I’ve been working from home. I’m cooking more, and turned my Snapchat into a cooking show.

Feel free to follow along while I make chicken and other stuff.

It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. Money is tight. We’re not broke, but there’s nothing extra and summer clothes may have to wait. The dad isn’t helping, and even if he could he wouldn’t because we do not align on how we prioritize the children. Not to mention his sister caused some issues that impacted my finances and after numerous issues involving her, I’ve had to make the decision to go no contact as it relates to the kids. The kids obviously cannot go to see their grandma this summer due to the virus and also until we get confirmation that no contact will remain intact. This sucks because the kids love their paternal grandma and she’s an awesome person who deserves to see the kids, but it’s not in the cards this summer and I feel guilty because I want them to have a relationship with their grandmother, great uncles, and American cousins.

At home, we haven’t killed each other yet, but some days it’s getting close. My mom is recovering well from her health issues, but now we have to push through to get her back to day to day normalcy, which is hard and stressing me out. I feel super selfish, but we are most definitely not going to Vegas, barring a miracle. I was so excited and now it’s not happening and I’m really sad. But I feel selfish. People are losing their homes, people are dying, losing their jobs, I’m struggling to stay caught up and I’m bummed about my vacation. It’s a dumb, first world problem and I’m awful for being upset.

However, I keep reminding myself that we’ve been through tough times before and we’ve made it through as long as we stay positive. Before I got my job with my company almost seven years ago, we were on the verge of losing everything because I was unemployed and the dad wasn’t contributing. I had to pawn all of my jewellery and my DVD player to keep us fed and housed. But, I persevered, kept looking, found work and recovered. If we keep practicing social distancing, we will be able to return to work and I can get caught up and things will feel normal again. It sucks because everyone is struggling and your mental health takes a hit when you feel alone and like you’re the only one who’s stuck and can’t get ahead. But we’re all feeling it right now; we just need to keep doing our best and push ourselves to do things to make us feel normal. So, whether it’s work from home, exercise, Netflix, or meditation. The more we embrace new normal, the better things will be when life returns to normal and we can hug our friends again.

I hope you’re all doing okay. I know this super sucks but it’ll pass soon enough. Until then, find your happy, whether it’s cooking, exercising, or watching anime while drinking White Claw. Whatever works for you. But stay safe and stay home so we can all see each other again.

Bad Guy

Life is weird man.

You never know who or what will jump out of the woodwork when you least suspect it.

I’ve had a pretty tranquil life these past few months. I’ve found my groove at my new store. The weather is lovely so I’ve been enjoying my backyard. I’ve gone on a few dates here and there, no one has been someone I’d consider an option for a serious relationship, but it’s been nice to get back out there. My 10k training is going alright. I set a PR for my clean and jerk at the gym. I’ve been spending more time with friends, which led to one of my platonic friends spamming me on Tinder a bunch of times, because why not?

My friends everyone

The kids and I are gearing up for one of our two vacations this year and it’s been pretty chill. Life is good. So, of course, some weird ass thing has to happen.

Yesterday, an ex boyfriend reached out to me on FB messenger (I thought I blocked all the exes that ended on bad terms, but apparently one slipped through. Damn). He wanted to apologize for the circumstances that led to the breakup, despite us breaking up several years ago and both of us moving on. I hadn’t even thought about the dude in years, and for a second, I was transported back to a very ugly time in my life that I had no desire to relive.

For those of you that have the urge to reach out to someone you’ve hurt in the past, so you can apologize and feel better about yourself; don’t. There’s a few people I was toxic towards in my life during a period shortly after my divorce and they had to sever ties. Since I became a healthier person, I recognize that I was a douche and dragged them down with my depression. But I don’t want them to have that dredged up when they’re living their best lives, so I don’t invade their lives with apologies that they don’t really want or need. Let people live their lives in peace and live with your guilt.

My first thought was “What kind of egotistical prick?!” I mean, how much of an ego must someone have to think that years and years later, I give a flying frog’s ass about you, your guilt, etc. As if my life will magically be made better by you seeking me out to apologize. My next thought was that it must have taken a lot to own up to some shitty behaviour. But mostly fuck you and your ego. People who feel the need to apologize years and years later to clean their slate are narcissistic as fuck (unless it’s part of a rehabilitation program) in my opinion because you’re literally invading the happy life someone built to remind them of the shitty times it took to get there and rub their nose in it like a dog that peed on the floor. No one wants or needs it. I respect that everyone needs to heal in their own way, and maybe some people need to make that apology. Maybe some people want to hear it. But for me, if you hurt me, you don’t get to invade my life long afterwards and get your healing through me. Write a letter and burn it. Find a symbolic end. But keep your apologies and bullshit away from me. You’re not in my life anymore for a reason. The reason is that I do not want you there.

I did reply as politely as possible that I accepted their apology and requested that they please not contact me again. The person in question agreed to comply, but I added him to my long block list just in case. I’m sure he felt better, but I didn’t feel any differently. I felt nothing once the shock subsided. That door was long closed and needs to stay that way, much like most doors I’ve closed. Doors that you closed should remain that way.

Maybe I’m way off base. Maybe some people find value in those long overdue apologies. If you do, I hope you get them. But, it’s just not something that hives with me, and I have long accepted what’s happened, forgiven you, and moved on. I hope they have as well, and there’s no ill will, but I also probably never want to hear from you ever again.

Power Over Me

The suckiest part about training for a goal is the part where you realize you have a fuck ton of work to do to reach it and you cannot give up or you have to go back to the beginning.

While training for my 10k, I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I gained weight last summer and driving means I don’t walk as often. So, getting back into the running groove has been a challenge. But, I’m gonna keep pushing, keep posting to my fitstagram (because no one wants to be bombarded with my fitness junk, but if you wanna follow, click here. If you’d rather follow along where I actually look nice, click here), and get better. Unfortunately, the only way to run faster is to actually just run more. And running is awful. But, imma push through until I’m 10k ready!

This is the time to beat!

I promised myself that nothing would stop my progress. Not weather, not my own insecurities, not even nature’s douchecanoes; geese. But, I never realized that my ego could still be easily bruised. I was running, already frustrated by my pace, when some boys that know my teenager walked by and said loudly enough for me to hear over my music, “isn’t that (redacted)’s fat mom? Why is she running?”

Full stop.

Fat. Mom. Fat. Mom. FAT. mom. Every single aspect of my life was reduced to those two words; fat mom. Mom I don’t mind, I like being a mom. I get to be with my favourite humans. Their existence drives me to be better. Everything I do is to give them more and better than I had. But fat. WTF? I worked so hard not to be fat anymore and here I was, fat again. Who was I kidding? I’m not gonna make it 10k! I’m fat! So, like a mature adult, I sat on the curb and cried.

I don’t know why it bothered me so much. They’re teenage boys who my kid doesn’t even like! But it broke me down and here I was, a grown ass adult, crying like a little bitch. So, I went home Drove to Walmart. Ate a family size bag of Ketchup Chips. I ran a bath. I got in it and bawled. Every insecurity came pouring out; too old, too ugly, too slow, too weak. Sure, I ran 10k last year, but now I’m too fat! I’m a fat mom who is probably also ugly & is embarrassing to be seen with in public because of the ugly. You know, completely rational behaviour.

Pretty sure am not ugly, but oh well

Once I was done being a little bitch, I stopped crying. After all, there is a scientifically proven method to stop being fat; do active shit and stop eating bad for you shit. Eating Ketchup Chips will not help me become less fat. Yes, I’m a stress eater, but there was a plethora of healthy, yummy things in my kitchen that I could have eaten. I let a group of teenage boys stop my run. So, the next night, I got up, and ran my 4km training route.

Was it my best? Hell no. But did I do it? Hell yes. Tonight I ran my 3km training route. Tomorrow is 5km. Still going to Crossfit three times a week. I’m going to do these things for me, while silencing the voice that says food is the answer, because it never is.

Words hurt, but only if you give them power. I control my body image and right now, I may not be happy with it, but it’s up to me to change it. I don’t go to CrossFit to impress teenage boys. I don’t run to impress men. I do these things because I want to look and feel healthier. I want to live longer and be a good example for my family. In order to do those things, I have to shut out stupid people who don’t actually matter to me in the long run, throw on PVRIS, and do the work. Absolutely nothing will ever get accomplished in life without doing the work.

My pace may not be what I want right now, but it’ll get there, because I am more than a fat mom. I’m a pretty good mom. I’m the okayest cell phone boss lady there is. My friends and cats seem to like me. And I may be a slow, weak crossfitter, but I’m still the 29681 fittest woman on Earth God Dammit. I am not going to let myself be defined by a three letter word anymore. I’m going to keep working to love my body instead.

But maybe the biggest takeaway here is that if you do see the fat person at the gym, or on their morning run, don’t be a dick to them. Don’t be a dick to that super ripped dude crushing the weights. Don’t be a dick to anyone actively working to improve themselves. Anyone who mocks someone trying to be better is actually a pile of insecure human garbage. If you need to resort to mocking someone who’s out there putting in work to be their best, maybe you should look in a mirror and figure out why you need to project your insecurities onto a person out there busting their ass. It will always say more about you being awful than them working hard.