Big & Loud

This has not been my week. I’ve been sick. I’ve had xrays. It’s actually super shitty. But I will figure this out in a few days & all will be well. 

But I refuse to let dark times cloud my awesome life. My life is the raddest. I’ve lost six pounds this month. My gym dues are paid & I can train. My kids got rad report cards. Oh, and I got some much needed time with some friends this week. It was just what I needed. 

  
But enough about my life. Let’s talk about mindless drivel. Today’s mindless drivel is why the WWE Divas Division continues to piss me off. 

It has not been since 2014 that WWE has had a true babyface Diva in Brie Bella. Brie was beloved by fans, as they hoped she would defeat the evil Stephanie McMahon & avenge her husband Daniel Bryan & sister Nikki (she didn’t. She was defeated & aligned with Nikki to reign as bad girls in Team Bella & now is used to elevate the NXT Divas). 

  
Since then, all of the dominant women have been stereotypes. Bad girl Nikki Bella. Jealous geeky girl AJ Lee. Manipulative Paige. Daddy’s spoiled brat Charlotte Flair. All until the unexpected rise in popularity of Becky Lynch. 

  
Becky Lynch has gone through many phases since her debut, but the core of her main roster character has remained the same; she wants to be a champion of integrity. Someone little girls can look up to. She wants to win the right way. All three of my daughters watched the Royal Rumble with baited breath, to see if Becky would overtake Charlotte Flair & become the Divas Champion. 

She didn’t. 

Instead, Charlotte’s father forced himself on her, she was pinned in dirty fashion, tossed out of the ring like trash by villainess Sasha Banks & left to sob alone. 

  
As a mom & a feminist, I find it horrifying that male “advocates for women’s wrestling” like Jim Ross & Mick Foley are more concerned about whether or not the word Diva is problematic than the actual treatment of the women. An old man forcing himself on a woman is a humourous plot point in 2016. Every woman except Becky Lynch is a stereotype, from mean girl to cat lady. They are booked as catty, jealous bimbos who are self serving & petty. Even my 14 year old daughter, who wanted to be a Diva, no longer wants that. She feels like she would have to become a character that her sisters couldn’t be proud of, or end up humiliated like Becky Lynch. 

  

WWE has an obligation to their female fans to give them a hero. I’m not necessarily about kids role modelling from TV people, my kids look up to me, my strength, tenacity, my work ethic. But little girls deserve to see the heroine win in the story. Celeste Bonin’s Kaitlyn was humiliated by man eating villainess AJ Lee. Brie Bella was felled by her evil twin and then joined her. Paige fought the good fight, but turned bitter. WWE finally has a chance to give little girls a chance for their hero to win, like John Cena or Roman Reigns for boys, as Becky is still fighting the good fight against two evil stereotypes. As the biggest event of the year, Wrestlemania approaches, I hope WWE finally shows that nice girls can finish first, and the big moment can go to the character who wants to show that you can become champion & keep your soul; Becky Lynch. 

  

Playing with Fire

I’m about to become an old geezer & I’m totally cool with that. 

I had a talk with my best friend Melissa about social media & Xmas. I post a photo of my tree & the girls opening their gifts so their family out of town can see them. But the dollar value of their treasures is always kept mum. Why? Because I have a good job. I have been blessed with the ability to provide for my kids. That doesn’t mean everyone has that & I don’t want people to feel badly or inadequate. Kids don’t care, but Christmas is about the spirit of giving & love, not a pissing contest to see who spent the most. It’s actually the reason that I do not celebrate Valentine’s Day, as it’s the same thing (I will be this year, as I have a man who treats me like it’s Valentine’s Day all year, and he promised we’d go see Deadpool).  

My best friend was frustrated because you can feel the economy gap when parents post photos of all the goodies. “They all got a laptop!” Even Kourtney Kardashian got into it, posting her kids’ Xmas haul. What about “my kid was sooooooo happy?” No, it’s about what a great mom you are for buying all of the stuff? Okay. 

This drives me as nuts as those videos of the kids who freak out when they didn’t get the toy that they wanted, or worse, those horrible parents who put a gag gift in a box for something the child coveted to “teach them a lesson.” My heart broke when I saw a FB friend laughing at a viral video of a child being given a brick in a PS4 box, the child quietly sobbing while mom & dad laughed. Why would you use a holiday meant for family to hurt your child? If you don’t want to buy a console, just don’t! Buy a smaller, thoughtful gift. Don’t crush them for laughs. 

As for the other kids, don’t put the video on YouTube, like the kid who berated his mother for buying him WWE 2K15, not 2K16. Apparently the game developer has reached out to the little shit to help him get his game. Personally, this kid needs discipline. Kids aren’t born as entitled little shits. They learn that from asshole parents. I felt for the mom as she defeatedly told her little shit that the game was out of stock, but then I remembered that she probably berates the retail employees (something my teen daughter learned NOT to do when I made her apologize to the Disney Store employee when she got lippy because the doll she had hoped to buy her stepsister for Xmas was out of stock), or she indulged him too much, which helped him learn how to be an entitled little shit. 

I’m not a perfect mom, far from it. But I hope I’m teaching my girls humility & kindness and to be grateful when people do something nice for you. If you follow me on Twitter, you’ll see my two youngest marking out with joy over their Brie & Nikki Bella Pop Vinyls. Everything they asked for this year was small, and my oldest daughter offered to tell her sisters that she was on Santa’s naughty list as the one pair of shoes that she wanted were pricier than the younger two’s two wish list items. But I was proud of them for wanting to give, not get. Sometimes they lose the plot, but that’s where parenting comes in. Parents who play mean pranks on their kids are bad parents, because they want the attention on them, not their adorable lil ones. Kids who are ungrateful shits get that way because parents turn a day for family into an annual can you top this. 

Perhaps next year we can focus on what Christmas should be; a celebration of love & family. Focus on the joy you brought the kids, not the dollar amount of the gifts. Stop glorifying poor behaviour by laughing at entitled children screaming that they didn’t get an iPhone or a PS4. And stop playing mean jokes on your kids. Let the day be about love. 

I’ll stop being an old fart now. 

Confident

Every once in awhile, I read a news story online & it really grinds my gears. 

  
Over the weekend, Ayesha Curry, wife of NBA star Stephen Curry (and more importantly, mom of viral video sensation Riley Curry) took to Twitter to lament about women’s fashion, saying she preferred to “keep it classy” & women should “keep the good stuff covered up.”

  
Naturally, the Internet exploded, with women attacking Mrs. Curry for her opinion, prompting model Chrissy Teigan & Khloe Kardashian to rush to her defense. While I don’t think verbally assaulting Mrs. Curry was the best way to go, it once again introduces the conversation about why women (& men!) think it is perfectly acceptable to tell women what to wear. 

I’m going to be super up front; I wear whatever the eff I want. Unless I am at work, I have tops that show cleavage & after I lose that last 30lbs I’m needing to drop, I am going to wear short shorts. I’ve read all the articles that women over 30 shouldn’t wear such things but too bad, random blogger, I’m going to wear whatever I want. I earn my money, I buy my clothes, I’ll wear what I want. As the mom of three daughters, I teach them about time & place. Cut off shorts are not for school. Tank tops with spaghetti straps are not for work. The list goes on. I pick my battles with my teen daughter so she knows while it’s important to express ourselves with our clothes, we also need to be mindful of age appropriate (she’s 14) & school/work appropriate. But it drives me nuts that women are taught that we choose our clothes to impress men or appease women. I don’t choose my clothing to impress my boyfriend. He best be impressed by my mind, my tenacity, who I am. How I look should be a bonus. 

  
 But Mrs. Curry furthered the belief that women have the right to tell other women what to wear like it’s any of their business. You know who you are, the ones who yell at the girl in the mini skirt to put her vagina away, or post the memes about keeping your bits & pieces covered. Why does it matter to you? If that’s not your personal style, don’t wear it. Maybe they like feeling sexy without relying on a man to tell them. Why is it that women are told to dress to impress men, but not offend women. No one would tell a man walking down the street to keep his tits covered. No, when he strips down, it’s hot! Much like when Miley Cyrus was vilified for posing topless, but Nick Jonas praised for posing hugging his junk, women need to stop trying to control other women’s bodies and ordering them to fall in line with their level of morality. 

One’s clothing does not measure their level of class. I have friends who dress in a way that flaunts their figure that carry themselves with more dignity than those who tell them to cover up. Class is how you treat others, how you carry yourself. Instead of worrying about how that woman in the miniskirt is dressed, maybe think about what you’re putting out there. Have you helped others? Have you been kind? Have you been judgmental or rude? Do you use profanity (something I’m VERY guilty of)? Are you carrying yourself in a way that you want your children to emulate? Because none of those values are determined by a hemline. 

I wonder how Mrs. Curry would feel if people told her how to dress her young daughters, or if she was upset when strangers weighed in on her parenting when she taught Riley how to do the “whip, nae nae” dance earlier this year. She was probably very upset and thought people should think before they speak. Maybe she can do the same next time she feels the need to degrade her fellow women & focus on building each other up, not tearing down by equating clothing with character. 

  

Hello

I think I’m finally starting to settle into my life. 

I’ve decided to make the next focus of my life here to establish a set of friends, more of my own interests & a continued focus on the interests I do have. Crossfit. I’ve started reading, something I used to really enjoy until my ex husband mocked my book choices (while my favourites are classics & The Hunger Games, I often favour VC Andrews style brain trash. However, I’m currently reading Harry Potter). My oldest friend Gleason has suggested meditation & I am enjoying it. I’m doing yoga again.  Sometimes I worry that almost every aspect of my life here revolves around my mate. I must stress how absolutely grateful I am that he was here for me during my transition to Alberta. He has been so supportive. But he’s often my only adult companion. He & I now work in the same building. I do not ever want him to see me as someone he needs to take care of or protect. It’s important to me to keep our relationship, myself & him healthy, which means maintaining separate interests, giving ourselves some space sometimes, etc. I cannot stress how much I fear being dependent on anyone, so I really need to maintain my own identity, and allow him his. This doesn’t mean that I’m not in love & excited for our future, but I always want us to be equals. The best way to do that is to continue to build a strong life for myself & my girls, so that I will always feel like I am doing my best to be my best. I think you should allow yourself time to miss each other sometimes. And, if the two of you are capable of building lives for yourselves, imagine how strong the foundation will be when you start joining them together! 

Also, it’s important for me to start building relationships & a life here. It’s important that I start forging ahead & making this place home. So, I’m doing that. There is nothing wrong with focusing on oneself. I always want to try and learn how to be better, more loving, kinder, treat people better. I want to always be somehow better than I was yesterday, while I get comfortable in my own skin. Most importantly, I am the mother of daughters. I want to teach them that women are strong and capable of doing anything. I want them to see that you can be an independent bad ass, and even when you’re with someone, a good man will support your desire to do well, not hinder you.  But as I focus on making this place home, I’ve noticed I’m becoming a lot more comfortable allowing people into my personal life. I’m comfortable with him interacting with my closest friends (Erica is so happy to have someone to sports with, as I don’t sports), I’m comfortable with photos (but very few) on my social media (thanks to some friends asking my best friend at work about my love life).  I’m slowly letting the walls I built up so high for so long down…

…this is lies. They didn’t come down slowly. They crashed to the ground. 

The past two weeks were the first time in years that I was suddenly without walls. Everyone knew me before I met them. All of my nervous talking too much or just plain idiocy couldn’t be hidden because I was a faceless new person. And EVERYONE knew everything about me; how many kids I have, who I date, when I moved here, my journalism career & I felt very naked & exposed & just plain terrified.  I wanted my walls back. I wanted the safety they bring. But they were gone. I had spent years making sure that all anyone knew about me was parenting, fitness & cell phones. I maintained a very detached personality. People didn’t know about my personal life, my feelings, anything but I had kids, went to the gym & hated geese. But nope. All gone. And that scared me so much.  But after the panic, I felt…okay. Better than okay. I felt pretty awesome. I wasn’t really afraid of anything; losing, being left alone. It was more of a “this is my life now, so let’s keep making it work for me.” I felt confident about things I hadn’t felt confident about in years. Perhaps the fear that holds me back from truly being happy was trapped in the walls that I built to “protect myself” from pain. I still won’t invite people into my relationship, as there isn’t room for you with the kids & penguins and such, but if you ask, I won’t change the subject anymore. I’m going to start letting (select) people in. But vampires still can’t come in. They aren’t invited. 

I guess the lesson here is when you build walls to keep from getting hurt, you keep all the horrible feelings inside. The hurt, the mistrust, the fear. You also make it impossible for anyone to love you, as no one should have to work to tear those walls down. Eventually, they’ll feel like they’ll never get through to you & give up. By letting them go, I feel more confident about my future than I ever have & it’s really nice to no longer have that nagging feeling that it’s all going to go away. 

And somewhere, Erica is saying she told me so. Whatever.   

General Admission

I had an epiphany. 

I SUCK AT TIME MANAGEMENT. 

The root of all my anxiety is simply a lack of time management, or mom guilt. 

I was talking to my best friend Melissa after having a complete meltdown about I’m not even sure. Like, nothing in my life is wrong. I have a pretty rad life, but here I am bawling that my life is stupid & falling apart. But it’s not. My life is good. And I displace my anxiety into irrational fears that have no basis in reality, because those are fears I know, things I’ve experienced & I panic. But as I got talking to Melissa, I realized that what’s bothering me makes a lot more sense;

I feel like I have no time. 

My days are long, so I try to balance my time for my kids & myself. But I feel guilty, if I go to the gym because that’s my time for the girls. But then I get stressed because I’m not taking time for me. When I first got here, I found time for me. I spent time with nature. I went to Crossfit. I went running. I found time for myself. But as school started and then I switched jobs…AGAIN (which I think upsets me for fear of lack of follow through, which I then displace into fears about my personal life, even though I’m actually afraid I’m hurting my long term earning potential by jumping ship so much), I found that I’m constantly juggling time with the girls & time for myself & I am finding less & less time for myself in the pursuit of money, something that doesn’t really motivate me, but I find myself worrying about more and more as winter is coming. 

  
I felt like this once before, back when I was working two jobs & struggling to find time to do anything & during that time, I was doing just what I’ve been doing now; panicking about things that aren’t real; analyzing everything, stressing about the move. Again, because of money. Every time my life focuses on money, I feel like I have to sacrifice pieces of my life to find time for other pieces of my life & in the end, I end up stressing about money, which is my least favourite thing in the world. But because my life has a strong foundation for the first time in forever, I start panicking and wanting to shake the walls to make sure they don’t fall down. Erica called me on it tonight, telling me that I’m almost trying to drive away the people I want in my life (including her) because it’s what I do when I’m stressed out, push people away. But in reality, it’s simply that I feel like I’m juggling my life and dropping balls. I missed my deadline for my magazine because I was working so much & it sent me right over the edge. I came here to write. Why was the thing I hate most (my real people job) getting in the way of my journalism career, time with my family, Crossfit? My trip home might be delayed because of work. The job that makes me money to live seemed to be destroying all of the things about my life that I love most, but I have to tough it out because my resume will suck. I literally couldn’t deal or explain it to anyone. It just came out that I feared change or fear of abandonment. I just couldn’t adequately explain that I felt like my professional life is taking me further from everything most important to me. 

literally me

I’m constantly pushing aside the things that make me happy to try and make more money, which is the antithesis of my personality. My life is about being optimistic & happy & building my best self. The past two weeks I’ve been my worst self (and to those who have listened to my incessant whining & crying, I love you so very much. Thank you for being in my life & loving me) because I feel like I’m sacrificing the best parts of me to support the most important people in my life. But I won’t be a good mom if I’m damaging my psyche to support them. I know that the more I sacrifice my emotional needs, the more I’m damaging my abilities to be a good mom & person. 

This week, I started shifting my focus back to the bright eyed optimist I was when I got here, and was just excited to spend time with my family & my loves. I did this by shutting out everyone. It was very deliberate & not because of hurt feelings or anger. It was a way for me to recharge my batteries so I could be the best MHC I could. I got a massage. I went for a walk near the river valley. I mostly avoided social media (except Snapchat because my kid is using it again so I use it to pretend I’m not just watching her snaps) & all calls & texts. I just needed a break from life so I took it. I’m making it a point that I’ll be in the gym a minimum twice a week. Every night I’ll spend 20 minutes doing yoga & focusing on positivity. And my day off while the kids are in school will be spent enjoying nature & coffee & Crossfit & writing & all MHC things. Why? Because I need to focus on my independence and ability to keep in control of my own life & set a good example for my girls. I’ll focus on my writing, as my blog is generally for me, to keep me sane. I’m glad people read it & love it, but it’s my outlet to help me understand my emotions, nothing more. 

I’ve changed literally every aspect of my life in the last 10 months, sometimes several times. I’ve switched jobs five times. I’ve switched provinces. I went from very high walls to shut people out to tearing them down & sharing my life with someone. I always managed to keep some sort of constant during these changes; like I kept my job when I moved here, just a different store. But now everything is all new. Learning to navigate through these changes can have its ups and downs, especially when you’re someone who struggles with change. I need to slow down & just remain in this stage of my life for awhile, with no need to move from here.  But, if I allow myself to make myself a priority, then I’ll be able to focus on what I do best; being awesome. So, I’m making myself a priority, somewhere after the kids, journalism & the cat because she’s a needy bitch. 

  

Distance

I envy you chill people who never worry about anything. 

As someone who has long suffered from anxiety, I envy how you can just adapt to new situations. I wish I was that person more than you know, because I can’t. 

If I switch jobs, I panic because I’m back on probation & could end up unemployed & then what happens to my girls?

If I move, I worry about how I’ve ruined my life. 

When I’m in a relationship, I worry that if I’m anything less than the perfect, understanding girlfriend, he will leave. 

If I’m ever the unpleasant, bitchy friend that doesn’t want to hang out or isn’t completely understanding, I will have no support system. 

Welcome to my mind. 

Generally my mind is a happy world of unicorns & rainbows & everyone is happy. Kind of like the world of UniKitty in the Lego Movie. I revel in positivity.  I pride myself on my optimism. I just want to be happy & for everyone around me to be happy. 

my spirit animal

But then there is the other side that I control with fitness, nutrition & sleep (all of which I haven’t been keeping up with) that becomes terrified that everything will go wrong. The side that overthinks, over analyzes, reads too much into things & seemingly sabotages her own life. 

I remember on Saturday apologizing to my boyfriend for feeling overwhelmed & struggling to explain why all change freaks me out, and not being able to. I apologized for wanting time alone with him & even last night I was talking about why I shouldn’t ask for much from anyone because I can go through periods of anxiety & they can be taxing. Yes, they can. And I love my good friends & family so much because they’re there when I need them. And it works in reverse. I love that my boyfriend understands why I get this way & loves me enough to see that the person I am, that loves him so much & tries to be good to him means more than the fact that I struggle with trust. But I shouldn’t have to devalue myself or apologize for feeling a certain way. But I do. And I need to stop. 

I am not perfect. I am never going to be. But I’m pretty rad. I would like to think I’m a decent parent. I would like to think I’m a good friend. I think I’m a good partner & treat my boyfriend the way he deserves. I absolutely deserve to be happy. And yes, nothing about my life was what it was four months ago. And yes, that scares me. Sometimes it scares me a lot. But I would like to think all of the good that I offer far outweighs the times that I’m anxious & scared. And I’m tired of apologizing. 

Women are conditioned to apologize for EVERYTHING.  We apologize for wanting random flowers or to be told we’re loved (I pride myself on being the anti-girl, but sometimes I want those things). I actually apologized for being alive this week. We’re taught it’s to defer power, but I don’t want to defer mine anymore. I’m a little nuts. That’s okay. But I’m not sorry. It happens & the more I try to pretend it doesn’t, the more it happens & the more I write about trying to fix it, the less it gets fixed. So, I’m going to accept it while continuing to do the things I know that help; fitness, nutrition & proper sleep. Oh, and the power of positivity.  I’m not going to worry about what if, I’ll focus on what is. And that is what I tell myself when I feel this way, that I have three rad kids, awesome friends, an amazing boyfriend, a job, a roof & a skill I’m passionate about. And I’m not going to hide from anxiety anymore. I’m going to be friends with it. I’m going to hang out with it, let it have its voice, but also explain that the other emotions need to be in control, like Joy. But most importantly, I’m not going to apologize anymore. I’m MHC & I’m too damn nice. I talk too much & I care way too much about current events & pop culture & sometimes I worry about nothing. But I refuse to keep trying to stifle the thing that sucks to try & be perfect, because then I’m not giving the people I love a chance to love me for me. 

So, here’s your chance kids. 

  

Life Lessons Learned The Hard Way

After the week of suck, I’ve done something I haven’t done in a long time;

I broke down. 

There was an attempted robbery at work. My teenage daughter is so resentful of her dad’s lack of interest in her life that she has decided she never wants to talk to him again & won’t pick up if he calls anymore. My hip has been injured so I’ve been hurting. My youngest has been ill and I had  to ask my eldest to leave school early to watch her until I got home. By the end of my shift, I was just miserable. I ended up crying all night, feeling isolated and alone. I felt like I’m alone in the universe, with no real friends here. For years, I’ve handled everything on my own like some kind of warrior, and every one tells me how I’m so strong. I didn’t want to be strong anymore. I just wanted someone to shoulder a part of the load with me. 


I cried all night. I cried all morning. I just didn’t want to be homesick or alone anymore. I didn’t want to be the single mom who handles all the decisions. I didn’t want to go to work. I didn’t even want to be a parent for an hour, because I don’t get the luxury of being a parent when I want women to think I’m sensitive or because my parents ask where my kids are. I was literally broken. 

But I learned I wasn’t really alone. My best friend Melissa texted me until very late her time trying to help me feel better. My other best friend Erica, my Texan PIC called me from the road enroute to Dallas for surgery to check in. And my wonderful boyfriend sat on the phone with me for an hour, despite being sick as 100 dogs to remind me that he loves me, he is right here in the city and he will do his best to make this easier. My mommy message board told me how hard I was trying. My oldest friend Gleason offered encouragement & Damanda offered to book my flight home hahaha. 

  
Suddenly, I realized that while I am far away from most people, I’m not really “alone.” I have the best friends in the world who are still right by my side even though they are a zillion miles away. I have friends I’ve never physically met who are always there. I have a loving & gentle man who always knows how to deal with my bouts of lunacy in a way that makes me feel safe & loved. He protects me by reminding me that I can do anything, but on days when life beats me down, he’ll be there to help me back up. I am a very fortunate person. And that helped remind me that while it can be a hard road, I’m the only role model for these three girls. I’m their only parent, their lifeline. I’ve gotta get up & put on pants & kick the world’s ass until I’m the most amazing MHC I can be. So I did. 

I may be weathering the storm alone sometimes, but I’m certainly not alone in the trenches. My people are right there with me, whether it’s to calm my addled mind or to tell me I’m the effing sun, like we’re Dr. Meredith Grey & Dr. Cristina Yang, I’ll never really be alone as long as they are there. 

  
 

The Danger In Starting A Fire

Moving is stupid. Never do it.

Over the last few months, I’ve gone through a plethora of emotions ranging from euphoric to miserable. This past week has just been beyond stupid. I’ve considered closing my blog because I wasn’t comfortable writing about my feelings & I sometimes wonder if I’m using my writing because I’m rather lonely out here in Cow Province & I miss regular chats with friends back home. I had this grand vision that I would get out here & my editor would love my work, I’d land a full time gig & my new gym would be as awesome as my old gym & everything would be perfect.

Yeah, nope. 

Instead I’ve been miserable at my gym, hating my job & trying to overcome years of mistrust in a day. So, I’m homesick & sometimes contemplate just moving home in the spring (my friend Damanda is sending a U-Haul). But, I realize I’m not giving myself any time to adjust to anything. Like, at all. 

I’m such an ambitious little creature, that I assume it’ll be easy to adjust when most people say it takes a year to adjust to a new community. I get better at trusting people, but it’s a process & I can’t rush that process. I’ll warm up to the gym, it’ll take time. There are some cool people & some not cool people. But I’ll get used to it. It’ll never be as awesome as my old gym, but still good. My new job isn’t journalism, but again, new audience, it’s a process. 

I keep trying to rush to get to the part where this feels like home, but it’s gonna take time. The difference is I’m going to allow myself that time to get used to how things are done here. If you’ve ever switched provinces/states, you’ll understand. Some days it just feels weird. And I just want to fit in with the cow people (maybe I should stop calling them cow people). But I realize it’s not as easy for some people. And I’ve got to allow myself time to get used to my life here. It’s okay to feel homesick. It’s okay to feel lonely. It’s okay to miss my gym & my friends & DECENT DAMN PIZZA. WHY IS THERE NO GOOD PIZZA?! But I kept trying to think it was wrong to go through periods of sadness. My birthday was a great day, but I’ve been lonely ever since. It was the first year it wasn’t a clusterfuck, which was nice. But it was also the first year I didn’t have belated drinks with Melissa, or dinner with Rena & Damanda. And it was just kind of sad. And over the past few days, as things have been sucky, I realized how much I missed having nearby friends who could watch the older kids while I took the littlest to the Voodoo Witch Doctor, as she’s allergic to every medication ever made, or Bree hugs. Or the fact that people here call shopping carts baskets. NO. THEY ARE SHOPPING CARTS.  But I didn’t want to adjust to the culture shock. I wanted to be awesome. Now, I’m going to focus on making Cow Province my home…& maybe stop calling it Cow Province. 

***However, I have only seen geese once, so good job Cow Province****

  
Same with everything else, I need to give myself time to open up, time to build trust, time to get comfortable. And it’s okay to want to do that slowly. It’s okay to not want to rush. It’s okay to have moments of doubt or fear. All of these things are fine. People who love me understand why I’m a bit batty & love me anyway. They get it & will let me muddle through on my own until I get to a place where I can fully trust people the way I want to. But it takes time. 

  
The good thing about time is we have a lot of it. Every day is another day to make awesome. So, that’s what I will do. Make tomorrow awesome. And the next day. And the next. But the only way to make this place home is to work on it. So, I’m going to put up curtains, pictures & BUY A DAMN KITCHEN TABLE NEXT WEEK. I’m very excited about my table. And each day I wake up I’ll feel better & better about living here, until one day, it’s home. And everything else will come in time, so I won’t rush the process anymore. 

  

The Document Speaks for Itself

A lot of times, when I write about my life, I get weirded out. 

There are always valid reasons for my weirded out-ness, such as “I hate talking about myself in a way that makes me feel vulnerable.” There is the “people I know read this shit & will text me about it or they’ll think I’m totes crazy.” I also feel like I spend a ridiculous amount of time writing lately because I am fretfully lonely for my Windsor/Sarnia/London friends. I’ve made some rad friends here so far, but I find myself missing home, so I use my blog as sort of a security blanket. This brings about the concern that people would rather read about me than engage in conversation or stay connected to me, like I’m some sort of zoo animal. Yes, I analyze literally everything.

I have a point, I promise.

I’ve decided that since I’m just going to keep using my one outlet as my way of feeling less isolated from almost everything that I love, I may as well use it to be a better person. So, I’m being more open about all the things that make me less than perfect MHC. Why? Because I want to be a better person. I want to be some kind of hybrid of the person I am and the person I was before. Still bad ass, but nicer. I really feel like the whole purpose to being alive is to grow and evolve and be kinder and gentler to our fellow man, etc.

Anywho, I wrote a whole bunch of stuff about why I suck at trusting people. I guess that was the first step to me actually being able to do it. But again, I felt weird because people I know read this crap. People I love. People who mean a great deal to me. And my mother (waves to my mother). I don’t want the people I love most to read about my thoughts on my blog. I want them to talk to me (although my good friend Gleason thinks it might be good for people to read my weird thoughts, it’ll help them understand my mind better and therefore make those relationships stronger). I don’t want them to think that I don’t trust them or that they need to coddle me or make me feel secure, because I don’t want that.  I honestly just write stuff because I feel happy when I write stuff! When anything bothers me in the slightest, I write about it & feel better! It’s like an extension of who I am as a person or something. Also, people I do not care for in the slightest read my blog (waves to ex husband) & I don’t want them to make my attempts to grow & become a more confident person fuel their narcissism. I began to worry. People I know read this. People I care about read this. I do not want people I care about to get upset that I am writing about my life in great detail because I’m lonely and homesick and I write about stuff to fill the void. Instead, I got texts from my friends, who said they could relate. They feel the same way sometimes. They struggle with trusting people. They’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. They just didn’t know how to tell people without feeling crazy. Suddenly, I felt very sane. Which was nice. Thank you, fellow crazy people for helping me feel united in our crazy. 

  
But I guess the best feedback I got was from my friend Gleason. He basically told me how I’m always putting the needs of my daughters, my friends, my lover, my mother over my own and it’s perfectly okay to feel insecure or like all the things that went wrong before will again. But I’m very lucky to have the ability to be self aware enough to start to fix the things about my personality I want to improve upon without it destroying my life in the process. So, I should be proud of myself for having a talent that makes others think and want to improve. And I can appreciate how fortunate I am to have an amazing family, a loving boyfriend and great friends and find happiness on days where there are none. By being able to see all of the wonderful things I have helps me continue to be positive when things aren’t and he’s lucky to have me as a friend. All of these things are totally rad.

So, thanks fellow crazy people for reading my blog & telling me that I’m not crazy. Pretty sure I am, but I’m pretty sure that’s okay. Because even though I go through periods of loneliness or rejection (by newspapers), that’s all part of life & I can turn all of those things into positives to improve who I am. Yay! 

And if all else fails, I provide y’all with entertainment. 

Also here is this penguin. You literally cannot be sad while looking at a penguin

My Life For Hire

It’s time for me to admit something about who I am as a person in the hopes that admitting it will help me grow from it. I don’t like admitting that I have flaws, or that I’m anything less than the most bad ass person on the planet. But if one of my best friends can be open about his bipolar diagnosis & work to recover, then I can accept my flaws. 

Ladies & gentlemen, I am a very damaged person & I have trust issues. 

I trust exactly four people in this world. Everyone else, I try, but I struggle. I refuse to blame my past relationship failures because then I’m giving them the power to continue to hurt me & I choose my destiny, not the things that went wrong.  It’s something I need to work on & I don’t actually know how. 

  
I build my life & I get to a point where I’m happy, really happy. The past few weeks have been awesome. I’m getting back into my gym groove. The kids love school. My eldest is taking her grades seriously & seeing results. I’ve accepted a new job that is a lot like my Target job. I’m excited because my bank account should be back where I was last year, where I don’t have to constantly tell the girls “I’m sorry, we can’t afford it.” My birthday was incredibly lovely & I’ve never been happier or more content in my relationship. 

But I’ll admit it’s hard when some of my best friends at home text once a week and ask if he’s left yet, because they’ve got their “I told you so” all ready. It chips away at the fragile trust I build in anyone & suddenly I question everything & my mind starts thinking;

Why did you hire me? Are you really going to promote me if I’m good, or are you going to wait six months & then the company will close. 

Why do you keep saying you love me & you’re here for good? We both know you’re lying. Please just go & get it over with, but please don’t actually go. 

Why are you my friend if you seem to delight in my potential misery? Why can’t you be happy for me?

I refuse to blame the marriage. I refuse to blame what happened before. This is me. But how do you tell someone that while you feel completely safe & at ease with them, they make you extremely happy & you trust them as much as you can, btw I still worry you’re going to walk out on me the minute I’m not the most understanding or nicest person alive. Can you please have enough patience to give me time & understanding & let me go two steps forward & one step back while I figure out how to navigate sharing my life with you. How do you tell friends you don’t invite them into the more personal parts of your life because you don’t trust them to be happy for you. You’ll just hurt their feelings. 

Erica always tells me it’s normal to feel this way, after all, trauma doesn’t go away because you’ve come to terms with it. But no one wants someone that’s damaged & has baggage & doesn’t really know how to be happy without wondering when it’s all going to go to Hell, even though we all have baggage. So, I need to come to terms with my own insecurities about my job, my parenting, my life, my relationships so I can rebuild the trusting part of me that I lost over the years. 

So, I started to do just that. I focused on meditation & yoga, also to heal a strained hip flexor that has plagued me for a week. I compiled a list of all the things that scare me about being with someone. Then I laughed at it because 99% of it was ridiculous. I reminded myself that I may not trust everyone, but I trust the right people. My closest friends love & respect me. My boyfriend absolutely loves me & understands how I got this way & will let me figure it out, but wants to help me get there. He isn’t going to leave me because he loves me, crazy and all. And my own gut instincts tell me I am fine. My life is beautiful. My new job will be successful & my writing career will continue to flourish & once my hip stops throbbing, I’ll continue to focus on health & be a bad ass MHC. 

But the thing is that we always expect someone to fix us, make us better, etc. But I don’t want that. I want to make me better. I want to be comfortable with trusting people for myself, not for my friends or my boyfriend or whomever. So, it’s a struggle sometimes. But I guess admitting it is the first step to moving forward. And the best way to learn if you can trust someone is to trust them, and every day I get better. There will be moments of doubt or whatever, but the more time I put in with someone, the more the doubt will go away. 

So, I’ll keep doing what I do; focus on my happiness & making my family & partner happy. And trolling Erica about baseball. And Crossfit. And making every day the raddest day.