Look what came in the mail this week.
Category: My New Life As Me
Here By Me
“I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living.”
One of my best friends hates going out with Drew and I.
Apparently…we’re…children.
Drew & I are just silly. We sing along with the mall music, skip, order our Yogen Fruz in a Swedish accent and firmly believe in the area code rule, where we get to act as ridiculous as we want as long as we’re in a different area code. I wear a Pikachu hoodie in public (which I get a lot of compliments for, people love Pikachu) so my concern about what people think of me isn’t that high; Drew cares even less. Her logic is “What will people think?” Well, they are total strangers, so…uh…who cares?
Life isn’t that serious. While yes, there are aspects of life that should be taken seriously, like employment, or parenting (which should also be fun. We as parents need to learn to be silly, make faces and sing songs and let kids enjoy being children by getting down to their level, not the other way around) and relationships, but when we’re old and gray and on our deathbed, we’re not going to remember those moments that we paid the gas bill, or that boring trip to the mall where we bought socks and went home, or the time someone wasn’t there. We’re going to remember fun filled adventures, warm moments, love in our heart and the times someone was there. We waste time worrying what people think about choices that don’t really affect them and impact our own lives instead of doing what’s best for us and our families. We spend too much time worrying about being judged by the company we keep, even though that company may be the best person for us. My friends aren’t necessarily the “best” people in the world. Maybe their ethics aren’t the same as mine or aren’t as educated or maybe are completely insane. But they’re awesome, so meh.
Let’s stop taking life so darn seriously and enjoy it more! It’s okay to be silly, goofy and just plain weird. Not everything is this super serious moment of truth; sometimes it’s just going to the bookstore. So, let’s save the seriousness for the moments that need it and enjoy the rest of them in our own unique way.
You Wanted More
After a very weird couple of weeks that involved working when I wasn’t actually employed, I’ve come to a very important decision.
It’s time to retire from the world of journalism.
That’s not to say if a really good paying position opened up that came with an office and a T4, I wouldn’t jump on it, but as it stands, it’s time for me to get a regular 9-5 gig, which is what I’ve been applying for.
It’s just so draining being the editor sometimes. Your ideas are largely ignored, your stories cut, leaving you holding the bag, and your opinions largely dismissed. I’m also tired of the work that I do. Yes, interviewing local artists and celebrities is super fun, but I want to write things that make people think, educate and inform (none of which I do here). I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’ve been very blessed to have been afforded the opportunities that I have, but if my heart isn’t in it, then I’m not doing my job well. I post on my blog more frequently when I’m professionally dissatisfied and seeing as I’m posting almost non-stop, it’s a pretty safe bet that my job is not providing the fufillment it once did. Obviously, I can still write, as I have a blog and paper to keep me motivated. Finding an outlet isn’t a problem. Perhaps a break from the actual media world would kick start my interest in the only job I’ve ever wanted to do.
Not to mention I’m a sole support parent who’s education is coming to an end. I need to find something steady to support my family. As my daughter’s father is incapable of helping me support them right now, I’m on my own paying bills, buying clothes, etc. & I need to make sure that their needs are being met. I’m not able to look for another media gig or something in law and stick to only my fields of study. I need to be able to work anywhere so I can support my family.
So, I’m going to work a regular day job, something I haven’t done in two years, as school and media have kept me from doing just that. I’ll apply everywhere and find something, maybe somewhere that isn’t Windsor. As a sole support parent, I need to be open to go where there is a better financial future for my daughters. So, these are all the variables I need to consider. It might be nice just being an employee and punching a clock and not having all the pressure of putting it all together. I think I could even get used to it (until I get frustrated and work to run the company).
Nothing Left To Say
I hear people say this a lot and I don’t think it’s a statement about society now more than it is about us as a people, in which we genuinely expect people to hurt us.
We live with this ideal of “stranger danger” where people we don’t know are going to hurt us or insult us because of the way we wear our hair, or our clothes, etc. (Drew & I were guilty of this, as we brutally lambasted the frontman of the Neon Trees for this right before he performed Everybody Talks). But we all think of strangers as jerks, people who suck and are mean and are just looking to screw us over. That’s why when a friend or a loved one hurts us, we end up crippled, because we honestly expected them not to.
We trust the people we care about, sometimes blindly. We love and adore them and think they can’t hurt us ever. They will never say a snotty thing, never do something we don’t want them to, never act like a douchebag. We put them up on such a pedestal and think they are perfect and angelic and so freaking wonderful. Then, the reality sets in and they are in fact sometimes a huge, raving jerk. Then they do something stupid and we’re crippled because we just don’t understand how this person we saw so much good in could hurt us so freaking much.
We need to abandon the idea that the people we love won’t hurt us, because they will. People hurt each other, intentional or not, but it happens. The one attribute that I am most proud of is that I am completely incapable of intentionally hurting someone I love. I can’t. I don’t know how to do it and the thought of it makes me so upset to the point that I end up puking. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you, it just means I can’t do it on purpose (It’s not all selfless, for some people, my inability to get pissy and throw shade their way has more to do with the idea that they could get pissy right back and hurt me. But for about seven people in this life, it’s simply that I can’t). I’m sure I’ll lose my temper and shove my foot in my mouth, do something stupid, act super whiny or annoy the piss out of you. It’s just that I can’t do it on purpose. I know many people who are perfectly capable of destroying someone they love, tearing them to pieces until there is nothing left of them, some of those people are my closest friends. It doesn’t mean that one of us is “better” than the other, it just means that I don’t have that mean streak. Some people have a different brand of morality than others and that’s okay.
I think we need to stop holding the people we love to unrealistic expectations. You can love someone and sometimes hurt them. Just because they can’t retaliate doesn’t make them weak or you an asshole, it simple means you’re wired differently. You need to accept that & work on curbing that dark side of you. Just because someone is nice doesn’t mean that they can’t be a raving bitch some days. Just because you are capable of hurting someone who trusts you doesn’t mean that you will always hurt them, it just means you have to be more mindful of how you treat them. Maybe people need to stop promising each other that they won’t hurt them, but that you’ll try hard not to, and if you do, you’ll be really sorry and talk it out together.
You Make It Real
“Is it possible that all the horrible things you’ve done have been forgotten by everyone-except yourself?”
Have you ever done something so super horrible that you can’t forgive yourself?
Sure you have. We all have.
Guilt is a funny sort of thing. I have all kinds of guilt. I feel guilty when I’m working because I’m not spending enough time with the kids. I feel guilty for just wanting 20 minutes in the bathtub by myself. I feel guilty for things that aren’t necessarily my control. It sucks, but that’s how life sort of works. We’re always going to feel some kind if guilt.
However, we can’t feel guilt if we don’t care. I love my girls beyond reason so that’s why I feel guilt when I can’t give them what they want. You cannot feel guilty for an action towards someone you do not care about, so when you feel guilty about something, you need to look @ why.
Most of us don’t let the guilt go. We hold onto it, envelop ourselves in it & pretend we’re cool, when we’re actually struggling. We’ll pretend we’re doing the right thing when in reality, all we’re doing is hurting everyone much deeper because we want to punish ourselves for what we feel we have done.
My daughters don’t punish or shame me because I sometimes have to work. We just make the next day better. But humans have this mad desire to make things equal, when no relationship is ever equal. Parent-child isn’t equal, sibling is not equal, and even lover-partner is never truly equal. One will always care more than the other. One will always be more capable of hurting the other. One will always feel like the other is “better”. But the thing is that we should use that feeling to drive us to be better people, the person they see in us, so we don’t have to feel guilty anymore.
Hiding from guilt doesn’t make it disappear. Pretending it isn’t there only means you’ll feel it later. The only way to truly be free of guilt is to face it, atone for it & do your best to make it right. I can’t always make it up to the girls when I have to work, but I can do my best to make the next day better, because what they need is time with me & they’re happy. Chances are, the solution is simple & the guilt will be gone, because you’ve finally done what will make everyone happy, & you’ll be happy because you don’t have to live with that feeling of regret & remorse anymore.
The 2013 30 Day Blog Challenge: Day 28
Day 28: What is your love language?
***Dear readers, I apologize if this is more personal than the general crap that I produce that I pretend people enjoy. I promise to bring my vapidly endearing brand of self-depreciating wit back tomorrow.***
My love language?
I don’t.
My former husband calls me a lot of things; frigid, cold, and a bunch of insults I won’t publish here. I guess in a way, he is right.
I love my daughters, I love my friends. But I don’t love men. Well, not in the conventional sense. I base my relationships on logic. I choose mates based on what makes sense for me, my daughters, does it work on paper, with one exception. My love life mainly consists of first dates that I leave early or never call. The last guy who made it to date two told me that he thought he wanted to get to know me better; I told him I wanted to go home. They didn’t meet my ridiculously long list of criteria that makes the ideal mate. I loved my husband as a companion, as a friend. He offered security in a time when I had none and I became dependent on him for the air I breathed. I took most of his rage because I thought I deserved it because I couldn’t give him the validation he wanted because it just wasn’t there. So, I would be nicer, try to be that perfect wife, but I couldn’t do it. When the marriage was over, I didn’t cry. I missed our friendship, but I didn’t miss being his wife. Matrimony was never high on my list of priorities anyway. It never has been I got married because it’s what you did; you date, you get married. I’ve only wanted that once, for about a month, and then I got really scared that I was going to ruin it and wanted to stay in one place for awhile. I’m scared of the big steps and like to stay where I am. I’ll get excited about the idea of moving forward for a little while, but then I’ll wanna stay in the happy moment, right there and just “be”, because I struggle with the idea of someone getting too close to me, wanting to get inside of my head. It scares me. Even my closest friends don’t know much about me. I claim I’m an open book, but I’m not. I am about my current life, and some of my younger years, but that’s it. I put up walls to keep people out, because I have a heightened fear of abandonment and I’m afraid if people got to know the side of me that is much darker and sadder than the socially awkward, happy go lucky dork, they won’t love me anymore. Anytime someone gets close to me, I get scared that they won’t want me anymore and end up sabotaging the whole thing. I don’t mean to…I just get…scared that if I’m not super woman and just a normal human girl, then I’m not going to be “good enough.” So I go overboard trying to be the best possible MHC so they won’t want to understand why I’ll get so scared over the tiniest thing or sometimes want to stop and be reassured that you won’t go anywhere.
Truthfully, I’ve only truly loved one man. I was attracted to him from our second meeting, so much so, that I had to keep a certain distance (as I was you know, married). He was the exception, he didn’t meet my criteria, was the opposite of everything I had ever looked for. I loved every good, bad and even cruel thing about him. Even when he tore my heart out, I loved him & blamed myself, because he wouldn’t have done it had I not deserved it. I thought he loved me, truly loved me, even though I’m a scatterbrained, sort of crazy nitwit who cries a lot. He even saw that part of me I don’t show people and he still seemed to love me. Because I thought he loved me, I would have given him anything and bent over backwards for him, maybe too much, because he was just so good in my eyes, & I wanted to make him happy. I guess I wanted so badly to make him happy so he would never have to fear getting hurt. If I got hurt, I didn’t care, as long as he knew I couldn’t hurt him ever. I believed every word he said, especially his promise to always come back for me, because even if we got the start wrong, we’d get the ending right. When he was gone (& I realized he wasn’t going to keep that promise), I felt like someone had hacked off a limb, it was like a part of me was gone & I broke down. Me, the girl who didn’t cry when her marriage fell apart, who didn’t cry at the absolute worst moment of her life, just stood there back straight, refusing to give anyone the satisfaction of showing pain, cried like a lost child who didn’t know where to turn. Sometimes I think I’ll always be lost. Never is such a short word but such a long time to live without someone. Ironically, always is a longer word & even longer time, when the one you’ll love always is also your never.
I write about the idea of love, because it fascinates me. The idea of one person who doesn’t share your DNA that you want to spend your life with, are miserable without them and better with them? It sounds so easy but it’s actually so hard. I watch people in love and wonder why it’s not easier. If you love someone, you would do anything to be with them. But no, we let our own baggage, insecurities, hangups, get in the way. We won’t swallow our pride when we fight and admit we were wrong. We don’t tell people when we’re scared.Sometimes we don’t even like that person, but we can’t live without them? People always tell me that you work to make love work, but I’ve never seen anyone do it, myself included. We just walk away when it gets a little hard, then we pretend it’s not eating away at us, but it is. I look at my foster parents, who are still in love after so many years and wonder how we can do that in a disposible world. I could, for the right person, but both people would have to want to and generally that’s not the case, even amongst most of my friends who are married. One is trying while the other isn’t.
“We have to allow ourselves to be loved by the people who really love us, the people who really matter. Too much of the time, we are blinded by our own pursuits of people to love us, people that don’t even matter, while all that time we waste and the people who do love us have to stand on the sidewalk and watch us beg in the streets! It’s time to put an end to this. It’s time for us to let ourselves be loved.”
The 2013 30 Day Blog Challenge: Day 27
Day 27: Your favourite body part and why.
I’m a girl, so I’m generally in a love hate relationship with my body.
I do however, love my eyes. I think they stand out. The only make up I wear is on my eyes and my eyeshadow collection is HUGE. My trunk of makeup is actually just all eyeshadow, mascara and eyeliner. That’s it.
I think they’re pretty and expressive. It’s also the first body part I notice on a man too. If you have dark brown or green eyes, chances are I’m already checking out the rest of you. There’s just something about the eyes; you can tell when someone is lying, you can tell how they feel. There is nothing more wonderful than looking @ someone and just feeling the love in their eyes.
I guess my fascination with someone’s eyes makes me love mine so much. I like the colour, I like that they’re big with long lashes and I like that people always compliment them. So, I play them up so they are the focal point of my body.
The 2013 30 Day Blog Challenge: Day 22 & 23
Day 22: Where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10 years? 15 years?
I never know how to answer these questions. Mainly because they are dumb.
I don’t know where I see myself because I’m not one of those long term vision sort of people. The most I can set a timeline for is maybe a year and that’s if I have to plan something that takes that long. I’m more of a “wait and see” person.
I hate thinking too far ahead because then I worry that I’m missing out on the moment. Sometimes I think about the girls going to prom or maybe an upcoming birthday, but never too far ahead. I guess I’m just not that person.
I guess I would see myself hopefully more financially secure, happier, and maybe have a nice RRSP and a house or something. I’ll continue to write and people will continue to pretend it’s interesting and I will still really hate geese.
Day 23: List your 5 hobbies and why you love them.
I don’t have five. I have one. Writing. We’ve been over this stupid blog challenge. Writing is all MH does. It’s all MH knows how to do. It’s the only talent I have (well, some people say I can sing and I’m apparently rather charming). Writing is the answer to all of these questions. I love writing, I love the ability to tell and retell a story. I love the idea that people read something I wrote and maybe care for 35 seconds. I love writing letters to people I care about and hope they love them and maybe save them. I hope someday I write something so powerful that it changes someone’s perception when they read it and I truly believe someday I will write something and all of my dreams for my life will come true as a result.
So…hobbies 1-5? Writing.
The 2013 30 Day Blog Challenge: Day 20 & 21
Day 20: Describe Three significant moments from your childhood
1. The death of my father. It’s hard enough to lose a parent, especially when you’re little. Daddies are supposed to be invincible. They’re supposed to be able to do everything and they don’t get sick, let alone get cancer and die. I remember my mom telling me that Daddy went to Heaven when I was five and I cried and laid in bed for days. It was brutal. As I got older, I felt the void more, because I knew he wouldn’t walk me down the aisle when I got married, he wouldn’t meet my daughters, etc. Maybe I would have grown up into a better person.
2. Foster home. Nothing like that stigma of being some sort of screwed up kid! Going into foster care was scary and embarrassing and all of a sudden I felt sort of different. I was like a girl without a family, and all I ever wanted was a family…well, a normal one. I was scared and I both wanted and didn’t want to go home. Those are a lot of emotions for a 12 year old girl to process. But I made it through.
3. Moving in w/ my “parents.” Moving in with the foster parents I eventually looked at as my family was the best day of my childhood. I finally had a real family, with two parents and no worries about where the next meal was coming from and parents who helped with homework and vacations and hugs, lots of hugs. This is the family I based my future family around and for the first time in my life I was confident and happy and I felt like a regular teenage girl. My problems were grades and lame boys and fights about shirts. It was the most wonderful part of my childhood, the seven years I spent there.
Day 21: If you could have a superpower, what would it be?
I already have one. I live my life and I haven’t developed a drinking problem yet. I’d say that’s pretty super hahaha.
The 2013 30 Day Blog Challenge: Day 19
Day 19: If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?
I don’t have a city I’d like to live in.
Vaughan wouldn’t be so bad so I could go to the Stratusphere yoga studio instead of just doing the DVD, but I have no “dream city.”
The only place I would want to live is in a home that I own. Someplace where I plant my own garden and paint the walls any colour I want. Someplace where I mow the lawn and pay property taxes and have my last name on the mailbox. Someplace the girls know is ours, no landlord to collect rent. It would be a dream come true to me to live in my own house that belongs to me, something that nags at me since I work in a real estate law firm.
…maybe someday.
The Misadventures of MHC 