Mommydom – Page 29 – The Misadventures of MHC

Your Heart is a Muscle

April 21, 2013May 30, 2013 by maryhelenc, posted in Celebrity Fluff, Just Fun, Mommydom, My New Life As Me, Relationships, Seriously WTF?, Television

So…apparently I was the only person who watched that train wreck “Ready for Love” as it’s already been cancelled.

Naturally, my mind went to “Oh. Em. Gee. Now how will I know if the annoying matchmakers help the meterosexual douchebags find the ~~person they love for 20 minutes~~ soulmate?!”

Okay, it was more like “If all it took for dating show to be cancelled was for me to watch it, then I’m coming for the Bachelor!”

I have a point, I promise.

I guess people are sick of the phoniness that these shows exhibit. There’s nothing authentic about them, except for maybe the two girls who flew across country to win back the loves of their lives, which was pretty ballsy. Those interactions were genuine, with real conflict and real emotions and the question of whether the decision to leave was the right or wrong thing, and it would have been interesting to see how the one panned out.

It reminded me of something my dad said to me about how people sometimes prefer to be right over being happy. We would rather live in a mess we created than ever admit that it wasn’t the right thing. Sometimes, there is no “right” but more a gray area and wrong. Maybe you’re not sure what the right thing is, but you know your actions are “wrong.” It doesn’t feel right and you’ve messed up but you also can’t swallow that pride or leverage that you have to just admit it to anyone, let alone yourself. Sometimes people say that if it didn’t work the first time, or the second, then why will it work the third? Sometimes people don’t try; they merely escape. Maybe you saw a long term future and it scared you because your last attempt at one of those failed. Maybe you weren’t ready for something, but now that you are, you realize you effed up and you apply to appear on a trainwreck with a bunch of crazy blonde chicks. That’s when you see the failed relationships, the ex creeping (which I’ve already mentioned being creepy HERE) and the general dissatisfaction with your life. But the desire to be “right” and not risk giving your love the power of holding your actions over you outweighs it all and you end up going round in circles…or on a reality show with Bill and Giuliana Rancic.

My foster father always reminded me that being right will never make you happy; being happy does. So, I’m the first one to back down (unless of course I am absolutely certain that I am right, or it is the right thing, or the only solution. Then I’m a freaking pitbull and won’t back down and won’t give up and will endure ridiculous amounts of hurt because I think it’s worth it) because truthfully, the relationship with the friend, partner, etc. brings happiness, which means more than being right. Sometimes, you need to admit you’re dumb, immature, you screwed up, eat that crow because it’s not about being “right” because it’s what’s deterring you from being truly happy. My foster dad always told me that sometimes in life it’s not about winning a battle, it’s about knowing when you need to surrender, something that I remind myself when I pick my battles with my daughters (there isa reason that my 6yo doesn’t own a matching pair of socks), admitting I was wrong in a friendship, or taking a zero on an assignment because I didn’t get it finished. Sometimes, it’s not about who was right, it’s about how everyone was wrong and how to make it right.

So, I guess the burning question now is what I’ll watch after I watch my pretend husband Adam Levine on the Voice. Perhaps there is some kind of Adam Levine network? I should call my provider and find out.

You Know Where I’m At

April 17, 2013May 30, 2013 by maryhelenc, posted in Celebrity Fluff, Dear Blank, Douchers, MH vs Dating, Mommydom, My New Life As Me, Relationships, Seriously WTF?, Television

Last night, I couldn’t find my remote, so I couldn’t change the channel after watching my pretend husband Adam Levine on The Voice.

Yes, this shirtless photo of Adam Levine is essential to this blog post...you're welcome — Yes, this shirtless photo of Adam Levine is essential to this blog post…you’re welcome

I was studying for a final so I figured I’d leave whatever the eff was on as background noise. It turned out that it was this dating show called Ready For Love. We all know my feelings on dating shows (if not, click HERE & HERE), yet this was like some kind of weird train wreck. I wanted to get up & change the channel, but I didn’t want to look for my remote because I was morbidly fascinated by this bizarre…thing.

Anywho, the plot is these three guys let matchmakers pick out a bunch of chicks for them & the matchmakers sort of guide dude to find the one…or something (I did learn that the Plain White T’s are still a thing, so there’s that). But one of the girls who was sent packing said that “nice girls finish last.”

Do they?

I’m a nice girl. Sickeningly so. I’m all kinds of Jesus loving, gift buying, naive as all get out, good girl. I give to people until there is nothing left & when I love someone, I’m stupidly devoted to them. I don’t do casual sex. I need to know you love me before you get that (I broke that rule one time, for someone I loved beyond reason) & if you’re in my bed, it means I truly believe you are my match. In fact, I struggle to date again if I’ve given you that, because I feel like I gave you the best I had in me to give & it wasn’t good enough. I would rather waste my life waiting for a person I feel is worth waiting for than date a million people (my online dating profile exists, but it serves for me to reject many boys & only to shut the psych major up hahaha) But do I finish last? I don’t think so. I have a pretty fulfilled life; awesome kids, good friends, an outlet for my talent. Not too shabby. I don’t need a relationship to complete me. I don’t get lonely for a partner. If I do, it’s for a specific person, not just a faceless partner, someone who has qualities I admire, who I feel can be a role model for my daughters, someone I care about.

I think people sort of use that as a crutch to explain why guys are douchebags. Some are, but other men & women just cannot handle having what they’ve wanted; someone who loves them completely. You build the image up in your mind of your ideal mate & most of the time, the image doesn’t fit reality. 90% of the time, the person who is right for us isn’t the person we expected. Some people can roll with that, others can’t. They begin to let doubts creep in because they’re not used to someone essentially looking at them like they’re amazing & they worry about things like “what if I’m not so God-like (chances are, they know)” or “why don’t I see him/her like that? (Chances are you give love differently, it doesn’t mean you love them less, you just love them in your own way)” Soon enough, you feel smothered and guilty because you simply can’t understand that level of acceptance, because you’ve never had it yourself (something I struggle with). Maybe the two of you aren’t on the same page (one is further ahead and you need to slow down) and you don’t know how to say you’re not ready to jump in yet, or vice versa. Maybe they aren’t the mate you envisioned on paper; they’re flighty, or even a little nuts & you question your choice (or you worry about others questioning it). The idea of love is wonderful, the act of maintaining love is terrifying. That’s why so many of us rush into one relationship after another; we’ve been trained to believe that the other person just sucked & it’s because we’re nice & we finish last.

The truth is, that we love the idea of love, not being in love, which is why we always muck up the best relationships & then rush into the next one instead of evaluating what we really want. Perhaps we should have worked harder, or talked to our partner as things happened, so we can apply that to our next relationship. Perhaps we still miss the one we let get away so we try to replace them & end up with a string of failed relationships trying to fill the hole (which my own therapist claims those who feel a hole either a) have terribly low self esteem and need to be in a relationship to feel validated or b) are missing the presence of a former lover that they feel “got away”), while still creeping their online profile because deep down, that’s what we want but we’re too damn stubborn to admit it (something one of the girls did on the train wreck last night. She realized she let someone great go & went to fight for him. The other train wreck chicks were pissed, but I thought it was pretty ballsy to admit you weren’t ready @ the time, but you’re sorry & you are now & you want to try again. He kept her, so maybe he is big into giving someone a million chances).

They say if you care enough to wonder what they're thinking, then maybe you should care enough to be with them. Of course, most proverbs were written by monks soooo... — They say if you care enough to wonder what they’re thinking, then maybe you should care enough to be with them. Of course, most proverbs were written by monks soooo…

It’s not because nice people finish last. It’s because we’ve been taught that people are replaceable & that makes us want everything & nothing; we want someone to complete us, but not get too close, someone to want to be our mate, but not overwhelm us, someone to understand us, even if we don’t tell them what’s wrong. It has to be our time, our way & we are the star of the relationship & it’s not about being a team. It’s not a matter of nice or douchey, because these are things that plague all of us. We need to start working together to meet in the middle. Sometimes we need to start over, sometimes we need to understand that the thing that seemed wrong on paper is the right thing for us, or that not everyone loves the same way & that’s okay, sometimes we need to go backwards before we go forward & sometimes we need to open up before we close the door.

So, nice people don’t finish last. They just struggle to navigate like the rest of the world. We’ll all figure it out…but most likely NOT on a dating show.

I’ll Take Everything

April 15, 2013 by maryhelenc, posted in Mommydom, My New Life As Me, Relationships

I find it funny how we do not identify ourselves by who we are, but rather the roles we play.

I am very guilty of this, as I am proud of the many hats that I wear on a day-to-day basis, but I’ve often wondered if one of the reasons we as humans succumb to pressure and systematically destroy our lives is our inability to define ourselves by who we are and not the roles we play.

If you ask people who I am, they’ll tell you “she’s a mom and a writer”. I’ll likely echo that statement. I may have added student to that list, but as I’m completing my studies next week, that will no longer be one of the hats that I wear. I define myself by my role as mother and by my job. My work, my talent defines me as a person, not my character traits.

Of course, we all do it. We’re so afraid of those hats, those titles that we start to worry that if we add a new hat, we lose some of our individuality. I loathed being known as a “wife” for some inexplicable reason. I wanted to be known as more. I didn’t mind being known as a “girlfriend” as long as you also recognized that I was a writer, a mom, someone’s friend, a coworker, etc. I think so many of us fear losing our identities by these titles. We destroy the best relationships because we’re going to acquire one of those titles, “spouse” or “partner” and we feel like we will lose ourselves. We want to be known for our education, our employment, our role as leader within the family. But why do we allow ourselves to be identified by these titles? For me, it’s a source of pride. I worked hard and overcame many things to become a published writer, so I use it as a source of pride for myself. I am proud of my children, and enjoy being known as their mother. However, men hide from the title of “husband” because then they feel they must be a leader. Women hide from the title of “wife” because it indicates submissiveness. Much like people see selflessness and kindness as weakness, we allow these titles (or potential titles) to strip us of our identities as people. Truthfully, those who worry that much about losing themselves within a relationship with a friend, lover, etc. likely have the least individuality. They simply take on the traits of those around them and play that role. It’s usually the relationship where we are truly allowed to be ourselves, the dynamics where we are forced to open up and be ourselves is the one that suffers when we struggle to meet expectations, when we struggle after setbacks. After all, it’s easy to settle back into the pretend roles, but not the ones where we have to be ourselves.

Perhaps we should only be identified by who we are, not what we do. Stop letting our occupations, family roles, actions define us. Choose to be known as only “ourselves.” For example, I’m MHC and I’m a mishmash of character traits and flaws and they all come together to be me. We should interact with people who do not define us by “the role” but those who see us for that mishmash of character traits, the good, bad and ugly and still want us around. The ones who think all we need to be is ourselves. That makes for the best friendships, partnerships, relationships, etc. Perhaps I should stop identifying myself by my life’s work or by my titles as well and focus on growing as a person. So, let’s take off the hats and start embracing ourselves and start identifying ourselves by who we are, not what we do and where we fit.

Colder Weather

April 11, 2013April 11, 2013 by maryhelenc, posted in Mommydom, Relationships

Nothing makes one more aware of their mortality than creating one’s Last Will & Testament.

I say I don’t fear death, but I certainly wasn’t fully prepared. As a mom of young children, I have to make sure their rights are protected in case I’m not here. I need to ensure someone is watching their inheritance, their RESP & that someone is their guardian.

Choosing someone to raise your child in case you die is a difficult one. I know many people capable, but I wouldn’t even consider them, not because they wouldn’t do a good job or the like, but because I want someone who is going to give them that parental, unconditional love. I love my daughters, they are amazing & smart & will change the world. They’re also handfuls & some days, even exhausting. There are days I crawl into bed & think “Wow, that was rough, we’ll try again tomorrow.” I have amazing friends, but if you’re not one who wants kids, you might think, even for a split second, “What did I get myself into?”

I know someone who would never ever question what they got themselves into. They would love my girls like their own & protect them as they would their own child & be the best guardian I could ever ask for. I admire them a great deal & I’m fortunate enough to know that if anything happened to me, I could trust them with my children, which is pretty much THE testament of my respect for a person. To know I fully trust you to love & nurture my girls if I can’t do it is the highest praise I can give a person.

I still don’t fear death. I’m not planning to go any time soon, but I’m much more comfortable knowing the girls (& their money) are protected.

Also, if I did name you in my will, please don’t kill me.

Time Marches On

April 7, 2013April 7, 2013 by maryhelenc, posted in Just Fun, Mommydom, Relationships

One thing I enjoy most about being a Mom is that I get to watch people who are completely innocent of the world’s bull crappery enjoy life.

It also makes me wonder sometimes exactly what moment do we lose that and become cynical?

This week my six year old daughter endured what should be the most horrifying moment of childhood (to this point); she must wear glasses. At first she was upset, because she thought that meant she was going blind. Then, once I convinced her that she wasn’t going blind and all of the cool evil geniuses wear glasses, she was excited.

My mom started asking questions, such as “what if the other kids make fun of her?” to which she replied “I’ll lock them in the dungeon.” When I pointed out we actually have no dungeon, she replied “Then I don’t care. If people don’t like my super cool glasses, then why should I? I like my new glasses. They’re pink.” I remember when I got my first pair of reading glasses. I was older, but I was so afraid that people would make fun of me. In fact, it wasn’t until late last year that I started wearing them on a regular basis because my youngest told me I looked pretty with them on. Most people I know panicked at the idea of their first pair of glasses, but she didn’t care. She also didn’t care when she walked out the door for school in her neon orange skirt, purple shirt, army green leggings, her staple mismatched socks and a side ponytail. She thought she looked awesome, so she looked awesome.

It’s funny how we all claim we don’t care what people think, but we do secretly. We all (as adults) crave approval from our peers, whether it’s at work, amongst our friends, at school, etc. We dress according to what is “in” and we behave the way people tell us and we pretend that we’re comfortable in our own skin. My good friend and fellow blogger @ the Gleason Table & I were discussing how much nicer the world would be if we were like kids, who just picked whatever we wanted out of the drawer to wear, said what we were thinking as we thought it and solved every problem with a hug and a juice box. It would be much nicer than long and drawn out arguments, hurtful passive aggression or the feeling of not fitting in because we own the wrong pants.

Maybe we should all channel our six year old selves and own who we are, dress ridiculously, be honest about our mistakes, and offer hugs and juice boxes when things go badly. In a sense, we should all smile and learn to love the glasses.

On Your Own

April 5, 2013 by maryhelenc, posted in Crazy Talk, Douchers, MH vs Dating, Mommydom, My New Life As Me, Seriously WTF?

Once upon a time, in a time that seems like it was a million years ago, I spent every Friday night alone.

I loved it. My girls were in bed and my ex-husband and my best guy friend went to “Country Night” at this divey bar. They would generally drink too much and come home in a cab stupid, but I got to be alone. I would take a hot bath, watch Flashpoint, read a book, go to bed when I wanted (we had a marital rule that we had to go to bed together, always together. Blargh). It was lovely.

Fast forward to the separation and those random moments when we tried to be friends and I was free of the control and I would go to leave his apartment after we argued about something yet again and he would always say “Don’t go. You don’t know what it’s like to be alone. No one calls, no texts, nothing. The silence is horrible.” It wasn’t anger or control, it was mind numbing terror. He sounded so horrified, so sad, like the idea of another night by himself actually pained him. I remembered when we first split, his mother said to me “You will never understand what it is like to be so…alone.” Same thing, the terror. Even my friends would ask me how I intended to deal with being alone and they sounded scared.

Back in the summer, when I felt like things were horrible in my life and I was scraping together enough money to throw my child a decent birthday party, I ended up at his apartment. Not for any reason, except that I wanted to talk to him, rekindle our old friendship, for the girls and because I felt so completely alone. It ended horribly; we fought, I cried so hard. I ended up back @ home after a few hours feeling so small and meek. My friends were screaming @ me asking me why I’d go back there, etc. Truthfully, I just didn’t want to feel alone anymore. So, the past few months, I was afraid of feeling that weird alone place that everyone makes sound so horrifying, so I’ve been trying to spend as much time with people as possible, to avoid that feeling of alone, helpless, quiet.

However, I’m slowly learning that’s why I’m not really an equal in any of my relationships with people. Because I’m so afraid of being isolated from the people I care about, I will do anything to avoid people walking out of my life. I’ll whine, beg, act like an ass and ruin all of my interpersonal relationships. It’s not anyone’s fault; human nature is to use the tools we have to get what we want. If we feel slighted, we will use someone’s Achilles heel to achieve the desired result of “getting your own way.” We all do it, whether we want to admit it or not. However, about a week or two ago, I got thinking about the moment I feared being alone. Yes, isolation has always been used against me, as it was an oft-used childhood punishment, but during my younger years, I would fall off the grid for days, weeks, just because I wanted to veg out. If someone got mad @ me, I would apologize if it was justified and otherwise it was “oh well, if the friendship meant something, we’ll talk it out when they calm down and we’ll both get our feet out of our mouths.” It wasn’t until I heard the terror in the voices of grown men and women, that being alone was so horrifying, that you’ll eventually be driven mad by it.

So, I stopped.

I only replied to a few text messages. I stopped leaving my house except for school. I stopped calling people. I cancelled yet another date. I just sat at home. I watched TV (Chicago Fire is pretty awesome), but most importantly, I didn’t die.

In fact, it wasn’t so bad at all.

Maybe being alone isn’t so terrifying. Maybe it’s just what is. I don’t NEED to be around people to feel sane, because it’s not the end of the world to be alone. I don’t need to constantly be around people every single second of my life, inundating them with chatter or reaching out because otherwise I’ll be in this horrible void of nothingness known as the big, bad…alone.

I’ll just be learning to relax, which honestly, would do me a world of good.

Storm

April 3, 2013February 10, 2014 by maryhelenc, posted in Crazy Talk, Dear Blank, Douchers, Mommydom, My New Life As Me, Relationships, Seriously WTF?, When Things Suck Hard

Normally I write drivel for what I believe is your amusement. Today, I’m writing for myself, to accept a part of me that I’ve hidden (unsuccessfully) for years; my battle with depression.

Throughout my life, I have struggled with depression. I attempted to kill myself @ 10 years old. I stopped eating for a spell in high school when a teacher said I had an “above average weight” (ironically enough, the student she called “fatty” is the one that helped me through it). I let my self esteem deteriorate after two abusive relationships, one in which I was raped & beaten, the marriage where I was told I was fat, ugly & worthless & my only value was to be degraded sexually. I developed PPD after the births of my children. I miscarried three different times and each time I lost my mind. The last two years have been a roller coaster of events, all of which have affected my coping skills. My marriage ended & for the first time in my life, I was on my own & I had never even gone grocery shopping without my ex-husband! I went back to school, jumping into a career path I didn’t think through. I met someone and I fell in love. But with great power comes great responsibilty. I had never had to make choices for myself and I was afraid of messing them up. I was uneasy w/ my academic choice. I had never formed close connections with people before. So, I let my boyfriend walk all over me because I loved him and wanted him to feel safe and understood. I wanted to make him happy, so I kept putting my wants below anything he wanted. I let my friends walk all over me, because I was afraid I’d lose my support system. While I was doing this, I was making myself second best. My friends & my former boyfriend were wonderful and never made me feel unloved or not special, but when they would do something that annoyed me, I would clam up, because I was afraid they would cut me out. I would have trusted these people with my life, but not to remain a part of it and my former boyfriend always wanted to know why I would get overly upset about small things or randomly get super clingy, then flip. He wanted to understand, but the truth was, I didn’t know why. I explained certain things that contributed, but the underlying fear, I honestly couldn’t explain and I was afraid “I don’t know” wouldn’t be enough.

As the months went on, I grew more anxious. I sucked in school. My journalism career was going nowhere. My eldest daughter needed counselling, I bounced a bunch of bill payments and I felt like I was failing. I didn’t have a steady income and I was buried under debt. The final straw? My relationship ended and I broke under the pressure. I moped, because the real problems kept piling up and I felt like I was drowning under a sea of bad choices. I just kept thinking; Why law? Why didn’t you think this through? Why does she have to be on a waiting list, help my kid! Why can’t I help my kid? Why can’t I find a job? Why do I have no motivation to keep my house in order? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! I had never had to face crisis situations alone, I always had a partner who took control & now it was all on me & I felt like I was doing it all wrong. I was afraid of being judged, labelled crazy or viewed as a liability to the people in my life. I lived in this fishbowl, and I wanted so badly to be the Superwoman persona I made for myself. Superwoman isn’t depressed.

Things improved; my relationship resumed and I was so happy and yet so terrified, because I saw how easily he could leave. I was offered a position @ a new magazine that would allow me to do what I loved full time & I finally felt like I had made it as a writer. But, I was still flailing. I had to do everything I didn’t do when I was busy being miserable & situations were escalating & tense. I didn’t talk about the huge problems because I wanted to do it alone so badly, so I focused on the smallest problem, because I thought if I could fix something little, I could finally feel like I could tackle the growing mountain of laundry and debt (which my counsellor told me is very normal for those who suffer with anxiety). Because I was so skittish in my relationship, I would make mistakes, and I again let him walk all over me. I didn’t say the thing I needed to say, which was that I was scared he’d walk out again any second & please work with me on this so we’re both comfortable. I couldn’t because I thought he’d feel like I was punishing him and he’d leave, which he did. Then I had the guilt of my youngest daughter asking for her best friend, my eldest daughter’s anger at me for making him go away, my middle daughter crying because she loved him & wanted him to be with us…and it was my fault. I hated myself because they were so hurt & when I tried to fix it, I displaced aggression (some justified, some not) and made it worse, strained all of my friendships & I felt like nothing.

My law career continued to flounder; I kept getting the run around at my job. For every major victory (helping my eldest child, finalizing my divorce and removing government prescence from my life), there was a setback someplace else. Suddenly, I felt like all of those insults my ex-husband hurled @ me were validated in my mind. Look, MH couldn’t keep it together! She lost her direction, her boyfriend, her friends and she’s no role model for her daughters. I grew so dependent on everyone to try and help make it okay while pretending I was okay, which of course was a façade that all of my closest friends saw through and grew to resent me, and I grew passive aggressive because I had spent so long feeling like I gave more than I got that I couldn’t see that they were trying to help me. Suddenly, I was the person that I despised. So, I made phone calls, my best friends told me off (which I thank them for, sometimes we need a good kick in the ass to help us realize how far we’ve let ourselves sink. No one ever thinks of how much we’re hurting the people we love most when we’re consumed with sadness, and sometimes it takes them to throw it in your face to help you see that you’re impacting their lives too) and I had a good cry. I realized I had become that thing I used to be; weak, sad, and unable to focus and sometimes even hurtful to people I love. I talked to my doctor and we took an assessment and I suffer from clinical depression and anxiety disorder. I wanted so badly to be in control of my life for the first time ever, that I would have panic attacks when things went wrong. But I wasn’t getting help to get them under control, so the attacks would get worse and last longer until I was living in this constant string of anxiety and fear. My counsellor said I was likely subconsciously pushing everyone away because I hated who I was becoming and I wanted all of these people that I loved so much to leave me alone so they wouldn’t have to put up with me anymore. I was self-sabotaging, because I thought they deserved better than me, so I would subconsciously do things to make them cut me out…only when they left, I felt more broken, because I missed them. Now, I’ve got a plan. Between anti-anxiety medication, exercise, working with a dietician & individual and group counselling, I’m going to finally be the person I’m supposed to be.

Why am I writing this? Because it’s a part of me and I need to accept it. The reason my life is such a mess is because I refused to just admit I needed help, take responsibility and be open. I put up walls so people would think I was invincible. I didn’t trust the people I loved that I felt so overwhelmed with my life that sometimes it felt like I was smothering because everyone said they admired the facade & every time they said they admired me, I wanted to scream “WHY?! I’M THE LAST PERSON YOU SHOULD LOOK UP TO EVER LOOK @ WHAT I’VE DONE TO MY LIFE!” I alienated everyone because I couldn’t just say:

“I’m scared that I can’t do this. I’m scared I’m going to ruin everything and mess up my girls and go broke and never make the effort to be a good housekeeper. I’m scared that I’m not a good friend or partner or parent & a drain on you & that I’m putting too much pressure on all of you & I’ll end up pushing you away. I’ve never been on my own and I want to make the right choices but it scares me to make them. Every time I have to I get scared that I’m doing the wrong thing and the things I’m sure about I keep mucking up. I don’t know why I’m so unhappy, please don’t think I’m insane & please still love me while I make myself better.”

As a writer, I say there should be no stigma, but for over a year (& most of my life), I’ve been so ashamed of knowing I would go through months of sadness & pick an arbitrary reason because the honest truth is, I couldn’t even tell you why I get this way. Part of me hopes maybe I won’t feel like I’m alone, that maybe by finally saying the words I’ve held in, I’ll be able to value myself like I do the people I love…and I’ll finally be a role model for my girls. This is why I often write about the idea that no one is too broken to be loved by someone; it’s my greatest wish…for myself.

Maybe I just martyred myself, or gave people fodder to laugh and for once, I don’t care. I NEED to make myself accountable to follow through with treatment. So, my name is Mary-Helen and I’m a journalist who works in a law office and I also struggle with mental illness. I won’t be magically cured by a pill, but it’s going to help. I’m sometimes going to struggle, sometimes I’m going to cry about nothing and self-sabotage and get lost in meloncholy. But I’m going to also work every day for the rest of my life to make that stop and while I’m not okay right now, I will be.

For The Nights I Can’t Remember

March 30, 2013April 1, 2013 by maryhelenc, posted in ASH Photography, Dorkdom, Mommydom, My New Life As Me

“Mommy, why do you take so many photos?”

My 6yo asked me this today after I took about four photos of her in line waiting for the Easter Bunny. I told her its because she’s so pretty. But I do take a million pictures & showcase them on my various social networking sites (FB, Twitter, Instagram).

The reason is simple. The Notebook.

***Before you start with “God Dammit MHC, haven’t you drawn enough parallels to the Notebook,” hear me out***

The idea that I could end up forgetting my entire life freaks me out. I couldn’t imagine having ALS & forgetting the moments I hold most dear. Almost all of my favourite gifts to give are photos. They adorn my walls. I gave my one of my best friends a photo frame with every photo of her & her wife for Xmas. I gave another a frame for his desk of all of us when he got a new shift. My girls once made a book full of photos for someone they loved. When you look @ photos, you’re instantly transported back to that memory (I do the same thing with music. Certain songs remind me of certain moments & will always be attributed to that moment. I mentioned a few in a previous post.)

Not to mention there are so few photos of my childhood. No birthdays, no school photos, nothing. My childhood is a traumatic blur. I don’t want my daughters to have the same thing. I want them to laugh @ their baby photos & look back on trips to the park, old friends, etc. Maybe that’s why it’s hard to look back on my childhood & remember anything good, because there isn’t a single photo to remind me.

Bad memories linger like scabs we pick at while good ones fade to the background. That’s why photos are so important. It’s easy to forget that day at the park playing in the water, that hilarious time you goofed off in class, or that trip to the art gallery, but the fights linger on.

So, I take as many photos as possible so I can remember all of those days & nights & random moments that would otherwise fade to the back of my mind. Because as much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m going to get old & my mind will weaken & some of the moments that I hold dearest will fade. That is why I take so many pictures, so that I’ll have them, long after the moment is gone.

Paralyzed

March 27, 2013May 30, 2013 by maryhelenc, posted in ASH General, Current Events, Douchers, Mommydom, My New Life As Me, Political Fluff, Quotable Quotes and Potpourri, Seriously WTF?

Ummmm…this is sort of true.

I understand that Mr. Warren speaks about same sex marriage, but the idea itself is not wrong.

He’s wrong because LGBT isn’t a lifestyle, it’s simply who one is, so his quote doesn’t apply there, but everyone has a different style of life. Smoking marijuana is part of a lifestyle, so is eating healthy. Some of the people I love do these things. Caffeine is a staple of my lifestyle.

I have convictions & a moral centre. I believe promises must always be kept, & I try my best to keep them. I think if you gave your word, you have to do whatever it takes to keep it, even if it hurts for awhile (hence the fatal flaw). I believe that sex is a serious act that must only be given in love & if you have been given that, it’s because I genuinely thought that you were the person I was going to spend my life with. I believe in honesty, kindness & that anger is stupid, to the point that when goaded into anger, I will actually break down into sobs because I just hate anger. But those are my convictions, & apply only to me.

The people I love most in this world do not agree with my convictions, & I do not love them any less, nor do they love me any less. The difference is that we are not trying to pass laws to make what we think is “right” the social norm.

You don’t have to compromise your convictions, but your convictions are not “better” than anyone else’s. if you disagree with the stoner lifestyle, don’t do drugs. If you do not like the idea of working moms, don’t work. But please remember that those should only apply to your family, your life. Also, remember that you did not make the choice to be straight, nor is it a “lifestyle.” If you don’t want to marry someone of the same sex, or anyone, you don’t have to! You also don’t have to eat flax bread! But remember, there are people who enjoy flax bread & they might want to marry someone of the same sex. The flax bread is the lifestyle choice, the other isn’t.

So, remember, everyone has a moral code. No two are the same. Lets respect all convictions, not just the ones we understand.