Hey Mama

Because I’ve spent many years covering entertainment media, I read a lot of celebrity gossip. 

Let me rephrase: I read comments on celebrity gossip. 

I prefer the comments because I think it’s funny that people waste their days calling celebs names. I comment, but even my constructive comments get maligned with replies with poor grammar & calling celebs whores. Such fun. I love the Internet. I once talked about how parents wonder where their children learn bullying from. They learn it from you BULLYING STRANGERS ON THE INTERNET. 

But the Kelly Rutherford/Daniel Giersch custody case has been interesting, as it covers a world of issues, from parental alienation, international coparenting & what is truly in the best interest of the children (you can read the decision here). As someone who is now attempting to cross country coparent, I was very interested in seeing how this plays out. 

  
The decision references that while both are good parents, Ms. Rutherford’s attempts to marginalize her ex husband’s role as dad prompted the judge to choose to give him primary custody of the couple’s two children, as the minimum time he proposed for mom to see the kids was more than the maximum time he would have seen the kids with her plan. As Ms. Rutherford demands her American children be returned to America (the kids hold dual citizenship with the EU), one of the comments I see most is;

“Children belong with their mother, only their mother. What a horrible dad for taking those kids from their mother.”

Wait. What? 

One of my favourite blogs is Daddy Doin’ Work. Doyin Richards is committed to promoting the role of dad & encourages women to also allow dad to embrace their parental role. Kids need two parents that are active & emotionally present. You only need to step up when one parent doesn’t step in. And we need to stop with the antiquated idea that dads don’t matter. 

One of my best friends is a single dad with full custody of his son. I won’t violate his privacy with details, but he stepped up in a situation where a lot of men wouldn’t & he rose to the occasion & is raising a fine young gentleman. Another one of my friends from public school is fighting tooth & nail every day to be a hands on and present father for his children. Yes, there are deadbeat dads & yes, they suck. But if you are a mom lucky enough to have a partner or former partner who wants to be an active father, don’t be like Ms. Rutherford. Don’t shut dad out. 

Dads are damned if they do & damned if they don’t. Look at Stephen Curry, who brought his daughter Riley to all of his playoff games, & press conferences, etc. Women pissed all over him for not “leaving his brat at home with mom” instead if commending him for wanting to share his big moments with his family. But if he left his wife & owed back child support, we’d string him up for being a deadbeat. 

  
I know some of you are thinking “But MHC, you just moved across the country. Didn’t you shut dad out?” I once let myself think that way, but then I realized the difference. Mr. Giersch wants to parent. My former partner blows off Skype dates, and spent less than 10 days with them during his month with them, often leaving them with their grandmother for days. I would call & ask how Daddy was & if they were having fun with him & they answered “he’s at home”. He doesn’t call often. I can give all the access in the world & even offered to help him if he wanted to move closer to give him more access if need be, but he didn’t exercise his access when they were nearby. However, I will always try to encourage him to be a father, to the point where I practically force him, telling him he can’t send our teen daughter home after a few days because she’s annoying him, or demanding he call. If he wanted to parent, he’s got the opportunity. Maybe this idea that dads don’t matter bugs me because while I would kill for my kids to have a dad that’s invested in his children, other dads are being denied the opportunity to coparent. 

The other question I read from the “moms are the only option” supporters are “what would you do if you were Kelly?” If I were Ms. Rutherford, or the NCP, I would do the only option; I would move to where they are. Part of being a parent means making the tough choices. This was not an easy choice, but making more money & having full time hours while being able to supplement my income doing what I love made so much more sense than working two jobs & never seeing my kids to put a roof over our head. Sometimes you’ve gotta look at the big picture & do what’s right, not what’s best for you. If I was the NCP, I would have packed my bags the minute the CP said this was the plan. I would have been in the same city with them, so I could attend parent teacher meetings, doctor’s appointments, and birthday parties. 

We could all take a lesson in “what’s best for kids” from another celebrity; Britney Spears. 2007 & 2008 weren’t kind to Ms. Spears. But she got it together. We should all commend her for pulling her life together & conquering her mental illness & personal struggles to be the successful woman she’s become. But when she had it together, her sons Sean & Jayden were happily well adjusted in their father Kevin Federline’s Tarzana home. So, she didn’t try to get custody. She put her sons’ needs over her own. And Federline & Spears coparent well. She’s been spotted playing with Federline’s daughters with new wife Victoria Prince while cheering on her sons at soccer. They throw joint birthday parties. Her sons spend all their school vacation time with their mom, and Sean & Jayden win.  

Dads matter. If dad doesn’t want to be there, stop forcing him to try to be there, a lesson I’m learning. Trying to make a man parent only hurts the kids. But shutting out a man who wants to parent (or ridiculing a man for wanting to be a parent) hurts them too. So, even if he wasn’t an active dad, but wants to turn that around, let him try to be a dad. If he’s been a good dad all along, let him be a good dad. But what’s best for the kids isn’t just mom. It could be living with mom, or living with dad, or living with grandma. What’s best for kids is the life that is actually best for the kids.  

Renegades

I don’t like to talk about my personal life. 

Mostly because it’s mine. 

I’m sure that doesn’t make a lot of sense to anyone else, but it does to me. What is mine I like to keep mine. My personal life never goes on FB. Only a handful of people know when I am seeing someone. Any blog posts pertaining to my love life do not get shared on my personal or blog’s Facebook pages. Years ago, I got burned when I was open about my love life. Now I am not. I am far more reserved. I save that part of my life for me & only those closest to me. I don’t need to publicly shout from the rooftops that I am with someone & in love. As long as I’m willing to introduce you to those who are closest to me (my children), then you’re special to me. The rest I like to do slowly, in baby steps, so that I don’t feel in over my head. I once dove in too fast & was engaged after three weeks & married a little over a year later. I always felt like I was drowning, doing too much, too soon & ignoring the red flags. When I was here before, I knew I was with the right person, but I didn’t understand that you can know you’ve met your lobster but not be ready for the major steps. Maybe I’m a lobster that likes to wade in the ocean & not get flung into the pot. Truthfully, I like to let my partner take the lead on major steps & I can let them know how I feel as we go. I like to know their comfort level beforehand. I’ll have a timetable for the next logical step (ie; meet my parents) & unless they take the lead & suggest it much sooner, I’ll bring it up then. If that makes sense. Mostly because I want to do it right; quickly isn’t always “right.” Comfort level is key & mine is “wading pool.”

 

Everything needs a random Friends reference
 
Also, my taste in men is generally horrible. I once joked that I was going to buy a shirt that said “I attract losers.” I dated men that didn’t see my worth. I dated men who weren’t there for me when I needed them. I dated abusive psychos & my marriages ended when he tried to smother me with a pillow. I generally pick emotionally abusive or generally horrible people, with the exception of my current love, who was always the right person, just never at the right time. But it is now & it’s wonderful. But I also want to do things in the right way, so I’m more mindful of giving space. I’m more mindful of making sure we take things slowly & do things right & when we are ready, not just jump in, because this lobster likes surf. But I’m also protective of my choices & when those closest to me question my affection for someone & my willingness to give them another chance, I get annoyed. I’m a grown up, I know the risks & I am fine. But, I guess it’s the reasons that annoy me. 

“He won’t talk to you every day. He doesn’t even have the decency to send you a good morning text every day. That means he’s not that into you.”

“He’ll have free time & go out with the guys & NOT EVEN INVITE YOU & then leave again because he’ll rather be single & I’ll tell you I told you so…again. You should be his only priority, and you know you’re not.”

Or my favourite;

“You’re dumb & this is gonna blow up because he has no respect for you & I’m going to laugh at you when it does.”

Barf.  

Not all. Not unless it follows with “I am on my way with Starbucks,” because prioroties.
 
Nope. My boyfriend & I do not talk every day. Sometimes I’m busy & doing my own thing, as is he. Besides, we are grown adults, who needs someone to check in every day? Blah. I am not his only priority. He isn’t mine. My number one and two priorities are my daughters & my writing career. Everything else is secondary. If I can’t make someone my number one priority, how could I ask that of someone else? All I ask is that I am one of your priorities, as you are mine. 
Besides, cutesy words are highly overrated. 

(Before you say “MHC, you write novels in greeting cards”. I sure do. Those are actual feelings. Canned sentiment is not)

There are entire webpages dedicated to templates of “Good morning beautiful,” text messages, in case you were wondering about the romance level. It’s not original; nor is it romantic. It doesn’t mean he thought of you, it’s part of the dude playbook. If he wants to go out without me, go out! Have fun. My love is based on free will. This way, I know the choices he makes when it comes to me are 100% his & I respect them. I understand the concern of my inner circle, as historical precedent predicts a sudden and swift exit, and he’s not telling me what I used to think I needed to hear every second to make me feel secure. But I am secure & I know I’m with the right person for a great many reasons, which likely sound so stupid to my friends, but make perfect sense to me;

  • He knows my Starbucks order & brings it to me every time he sees me, & even makes sure my name is spelled correctly on the cup, because I am convinced that they don’t spell my name wrong. 
  • He brought me ice cube trays because I mentioned I didn’t have any & would have to pick some up later to make iced tea. 
  • He has remembered my favourite colour, book & movie for four years. 
  • He laughs at jokes I’ve told a million times. 
  • He listens to me babble away & is almost amused by my obsessive need to be the best at everything. 
  • He sits with me at the hospital when I’m dealing with a family emergency & makes stupid faces at me because he knows I won’t listen to his attempts to help anyway. But he doesn’t leave the room to go smoke, or go home when he’s obviously exhausted. He just sits & makes dumb faces or tells dumb jokes so I’ll laugh for 10 seconds. 

When he asked to be in my life, I asked why I should believe him & he said he would show me. Words are great, but actions are everything. I set timetables to make sure we are ready & he bends them to show me is ready & committed to being with me. He shows up at my door after time apart to show me that he missed me. Any one can type out a text & not hit send until morning, but someone invested will be there when you need them, or remember something stupid you said that would make your day brighter. 

 

I am in love with both
 
I may have terrible taste in men (or so I’m told), but I know I would rather be with the man who brings me ice cube trays than the guy who says the right words. I’ve been with men who know how to say the right words, but they never did the right things. Now, he sometimes says the wrong thing (not lately, but it’s happened), but despite how my friend sees it, I am a priority. He shows me I am a priority in a million little ways; with his time, with his level of commitment to me, by respecting my comfort zones, & even finding it oddly flattering when I write about him (which I never truly feel comfortable doing, but I’m overtired & had an idea which likely read better in my brain) & often texts me to tell me what he thought; once in such a sweet way it rendered me speechless (for the first time in my entire life). 

When given the choice ladies; pick the guy that brings ice cube trays over pretty words. Or if they can do both; pick that guy. The guy who brings the ice cube trays was listening to you & knew you needed them & wanted to make your day easier. That will make you smile far more than a cutesy message (although they can be nice). My father always said pick a man of substance, not a man who knows smooth lines, so I did. Over & over again.  And of all the choices I make in life (which are mostly terrible), it’s the best (not parenting or journalism) one I’ve ever made. 

  

That’s What You Get

I am starting to think that I am simply afraid to be happy.

I understand that all humans have a basic right to be happy. I am generally a happy person. I find ways to be happy even when everything is actually stupid. I pride myself on this. But when things play out in a way that makes me truly happy, I start to feel guilty, like do I deserve this? Is it fair that I’m so happy when other people aren’t, etc.?

I lead a very charmed existence. My life used to be very challenging & I’ve worked very hard to build myself in a way that I can be happy regardless of what’s happening in my beautiful life. I have been fortunate to have been blessed with three wonderful children. I have a talent I am passionate about and I’m growing as a writer every day. I’m building connections and career opportunities in my field and I’m super excited about that. My home is slowly becoming a lovely little house where I can raise my family. The girls love their new surroundings and like to chase the bunnies in the yard, they’ve already made friends their own age, and are always outside enjoying their new hometown. Business is even picking up at my day job, so I’m worrying less and less about money and focusing more on becoming a good manager and leader. You know, why I was hired in the first place. My friends back home are always supportive and my friends here are super fun. My girlfriend & I are setting up a playdate with her boys and my girls once the boys get home from camp. My frazzled nerves are often soothed by three words, sent by text message almost every day. They give me peace & security. I’m beautiful and smart and for the first time in my life, I don’t feel anxious and my self esteem doesn’t suck.

But I also find myself worrying that something is going to go terribly wrong. I find myself feeing increasingly sorry for the Dad, who seems to be miserable and that’s my fault. I know you could rationalize that if he wanted to see his kids, he would find a job here, or he would have actually spent time with them when he had them for the month, but I can’t help but feel badly that his life has gone so far downhill and mine seems pretty rad. Kids deserve two hands on parents and I keep hoping he’ll finally get it together and focus on being a good father for his children, but it never happens. And I just keep thinking that I’ve ruined his life somehow. I worry all of the things that are making me happy will suddenly be taken away and it won’t be here anymore. I hadn’t planned for certain developments, and now that they’re in play, it scares me that the other shoe will drop and it’ll go away & the thought scares me so much. I worry that maybe they prefer me as a zoo animal to be observed & watched than a woman to be loved & respected. I can see the girls are adjusting nicely, but I’m still worried that they won’t be happy or that I’m making choices that will impact them in a negative way, despite everything being positive. I also wonder WHY I feel badly that he’s miserable. If the shoe were on the other foot, he would revel in my misery. But I keep worrying that he won’t handle the transition okay, which causes me to distance myself from other aspects of my life so that I can try to help him adjust.

 

I understand all of these feelings are super normal. I understand that change is scary and letting people in is terrifying and trusting people is hard and people have free will and they choose to love you and they can choose to self destruct and there’s nothing you can do about it. I guess it’s all part of the adjustment; learning to trust your gut instincts (which currently tell me to relax and enjoy my life, it’s the overthinking that gets me) and learning to accept that feelings of self doubt and even fear are normal; especially when every other time you’ve been really happy, it seems to go away. You’ve just gotta remind yourself that it won’t go away. I’ll just continue to focus my efforts on raising my girls, self improvement, and most importantly, the written word. I apply for jobs I’m grossly underqualified for, just so I can get my name out there while I continue to work with my current magazines. I’ll continue to revel with my time with my girls. I’m doing every day crossfit, which means my body hurts like mother effer, but I’m feeling more like myself which means I’m much happier here. It finally feels like this is home. London never really felt like home. It felt like a stepping stone to someplace else. Maybe this was that someplace else? Or maybe this is a stepping stone to someplace else and in two years or so I’ll end up in BC working at some rural newspaper in some hick town, or I’ll actually go to the arctic. Who knows? All I know is I need to do what my Queen Taylor Swift says and “shake it off” and not allow guilt or feelings that the other shoe will drop spoil the happy life I’m building.

But it’s easier said than done & it’s something I need to work on to help me be a more confident person. But as we slowly adjust into a comfortable routine here, and as time passes, it’ll be easier for me to settle into my comfortable place & just be happy.   

Wait For Me

My house is oddly quiet, except for the prattling of the not so angry teen who is currently enjoying a warm reunion with…her clothing.

My children are home and my heart is full. I can’t remember the last time I have been this happy. I revel in my role as mom, I love being there for my children and raising them and spending my days with them. They’re my favourite people in the entire world and after 28 miserable ass days, they are finally home where they belong, although two of them have been fast asleep since they got home. But they’re resting and recouping after a long journey. Even the cat is happy.

Now we can focus on the adjustment period, where the girls adjust to the new time zone, the new house, etc. I wanted to do this during the summer so they have time to feel comfortable. I sort of flung myself into everything and ended up feeling overwhelmed and a huge emotional wreck. Fortunately, I had friends (home and away) that have been there or me, whether it’s FaceTime chats, or texts, or sobbing phone calls, or even just holding me and reminding me that everything will be fine and they’re right here beside me and they’re not going anywhere. I want my children to have an easier transition. So, I want them to have time to play at the park, learn their way around, enjoy the city, etc. Then we can add school and friends and life. Oh, but first, our audience with Queen Taylor.

Now, our lives in cow province can begin. I’m excited to build a comfortable routine with my daughters. Something where we can be happy and have adventures and enjoy our little existence. It’s going to be nice to have “our” lives again, not to mention it’ll be awesome for them to learn more about our country by living in more than just Southwestern Ontario. They’re excited for the next chapter of our lives and I’m excited too. I used to just be terrified, but the fact that they are here and I no longer have to worry about what’s happening with them makes it easier. I no longer have to wonder about if they’re around something questionable, are the caregivers drinking to excess, are people smoking near them, are they being kept up too late? Now we can go back to our happy life of tea parties, learning and adventures. I start back at the gym full time on Wednesday, so the girls will see a normal schedule again. All of these things are essential to helping them adjust, which is my primary focus right now.

Being reunited with my children makes it easier to focus on why we are here; to continue to build my career. I like my day job and I understand it’s essential, but I came out here for a full time gig. Rome isn’t built in a day, so it’s time to continue to focus on building that portfolio so I can get a permanent position…and learn to drive. You know, perfectly normal things. But I’m very thankful that I have even this sliver of opportunity to build my dream career. I went to school and worked hard and have continued to work hard to get this far. Now, I just need to keep working. Of course, part of that means I need to stop being so hesitant to consider a long term career in entertainment media. I know I want to write human interest stuff and stuff that I feel makes a difference, but I’m really good at music reviews, and editorials about pop culture. Maybe that’s what I’m meant to do? I guess I need to stop bucking the idea and just enjoy writing! Maybe I’ve been a bit of a snob and felt like pop culture wasn’t a long term career plan. Maybe I need to just focus on finding that solid writing job and let the rest fall into place. After all, I guess as long as one person is reading my drivel, it means I’m a success, right?

In the interim, I’m going to enjoy my life. I have always led a pretty charmed existence and each move I make seems to make it better. I have beautiful children, I’m making strides in my career, and I finally know what time it is. I’m blessed with wonderful people who love me. My house is looking pretty nice. Not a bad gig. And I’m going to enjoy watching it play out and see what wonderful things happen next.

  

Alone Together

(This originally started as a private thought, but the more I thought on it, the more it manifested into something I thought I’d share)

When I packed up my life & moved to London, it never truly felt like home. 

That’s not true; my gym felt like home. My friends made living there rad, but it wasn’t where I belonged. The adjustment period from that move took months because my coworkers were different (but awesome), my routine changed, as I went from working almost dedicated nights to a swing shift, the girls hated it, etc. 

My plan to move here was easy once I got the ball rolling. I found my house easily, I acquired my job easily. I was offered two writing jobs. I guess I just assumed the transition would be easy. I would do it all to make my house mine & everything would be easy. 

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. 

After a solid day of bawling & not sleeping, followed by a solid day of painting, I realized that most of my distress stems from scenarios I’ve created in my mind & not actual problems. This likely stems from the lack of structure in my life. My life was my girls, my writing, crossfit. Everything about my life from two weeks ago has changed for the better (except for the part where the girls won’t be home for another week). But I need to reimplement the things about my life that make it mine (my daughters & crossfit), on top of the things I’ve already done. I think I’ve been so determined to make my house feel like home & make this perfect to alleviate my sadness over the absence of my family that I forgot that I need to continue living my day to day life. 

Crossfit helps me feel stronger (because I am haha). It helps me with the social aspect of my life that I like, as we are all working towards the same goals, which is to be our fittest selves. Exercise relieves my anxiety, which helps me retain my title of HBIC. When I went to my intro class, I felt like myself because I was swinging a kettlebell, despite feeling the initial intimidation I felt when I started. But, then I got lost and found myself intimidated by the trek I would need to take to get there. I’ll need to get the eff over that because I need to make my life work in this place. I’ve been doing it the other way. Nope. I’m the CEO of my life. Cow province needs to work for ME. 

So, now that the house is getting to feel like mine, I can focus on my life & reestabliishing what makes it work & what makes me the happiest girl in the world. 

 

just like Ruby Gloom

It’s all about changing one’s perspective. I’ve been so focused on trying to fit into my life that I forgot that my life should bend to me! I’ve adjusted to the time zone, I’ve found out how to navigate, so now I’m going to focus on doing things that make my life better. I’ve been so afraid that I’m going to screw up my life that I wasn’t actually living my life! That’s just silly. 

The biggest thing I need to do is let go & let people in. I’ve spent so long trying to do things on my own & keep people at arm’s length to prove some kind of point. I’m not even sure what that point is anymore. But I don’t have to do it on my own anymore. I have my significant other (whom I generally don’t care to discuss, but I guess it’s part of the lesson of the day), who is loving, supportive & wants to make my life & transition here as awesome as possible. I love that I have him here with me. But part of being in a successful relationship means I need to be myself & I like my independence & that’s part of why he loves me. But I can be independent & still have an ally who is with me in all things, right? I just need to learn to embrace that while most things I can do for myself, by myself, it’s not MHC vs. the world anymore. I have a teammate in this crazy thing called life & I have a very good one. It’ll take time, but I’ll get there. But part of building a future means moving away from the things that hold us back. I can’t shut out the person who wants to love me because I’m afraid of getting hurt. But if I kept my guard up because I’m afraid of getting hurt, I would never go to the gym. Or work. Or leave my house. It’s a risk & they’re worth that risk. He’s good to me & for me & he loves me & wants to be the person that makes me happy & I need to let him because he’s the most incredible man I’ve ever known & I am a lucky girl. I didn’t intend on being with anyone, but I’m glad he found me…

…and that’s enough about that, as I’m very protective of my personal life. 

 

Let’s change the subject to this lake I hang out at
 
I guess I needed to have a giant “I’m so lonely” meltdown to help get the negativity out of my mind & focus on making things the way I want. I just needed to spend some time with my constructive thoughts & find ways to make things work; the MHC way. I refuse to allow myself to be afraid that I’ve screwed up. I’m simply going to focus on how I’m going to make my girls & my love proud of me by accomplishing everything I’ve set out to do; conquer the written word, lift heavy things & generally be amazing. 

I’ll wander aimlessly through life, but at least I’ll look cute doing it
 
 

Miss Missing You

Sometimes my life feels so very lonely. 

Probably because it actually kind of is. 

I know it’s a loneliness of my own design, but it is what it is. I probably sound so whiny, but I’ve never felt so disconnected from my own life. I haven’t hugged my daughters in almost a month & I’m so far from everyone I know except two people & most of my conversations with friends from home are “helpful” reminders that I shouldn’t have done this because I make dumb choices. The gym was great but it wasn’t MY gym & they weren’t MY coaches. I’ve overwhelmed myself with the amount of work that needs to be done so I can unpack, I don’t really know my way around & I’m just…

…I want to go home. But I don’t know where that is. 

I was adjusting fine until my youngest daughter was rushed to the hospital & I stood powerless in my store & couldn’t do anything. Sure, my best friend rushed there, but I should have been there. I am Mommy. Mommy is there when bad things happen. And Mommy was very far away. Mommy will remain far away for another week & a Mommy literally cannot stand it anymore. Mommy should not be rewarding brave little girls with a FaceTime trip to the Disney Store. Mommy should have been there. And I wasn’t. And I feel awful. 

I’ve been fortunate that I’m not completely alone; I have a partner here who loves me & has done his damnedest to make this whole thing tolerable, but he’s my equal, not my protector. He works & has a life. I can’t just call him & have my epic meltdown that I don’t like my job & I literally don’t want to be this far from my girls anymore & I am really, really intimidated & out of my element & I have never ever looked at a situation that I couldn’t just make awesome until now (although I have no doubt he would listen & be there with me). That reason is because I sound like a huge fucking baby because I know I am actually fine. I am supposed to be a boss ass bitch. Boss ass bitches do not cry because they are lonely af & struggling with the major life change I know was the right thing because everything is actually wonderful & I’m just overtired & overstressed & overwhelmed & this will pass & I am fine. 

But right now I am just so incredibly lonely & I find myself calling my friends just so I don’t feel alone in my house but it’s always much later than I thought it was & suddenly I feel so very alone. It’s weird; for years all I wanted was to be left alone so I could be independent & raise my girls & no one could hurt me ever again. But now, I’m just so lonely for my friends, my girls & a home that feels like home & I suck at vulnerability. It kind of goes against my whole “I’m the most bad ass bitch on Earth,” thing. 

Change is supposed to be scary. Good change is supposed to be terrifying. Every aspect of my current life but two things are terrifying. I guess I want some semblance of MY life. And I know once I’m attending crossfit regularly & the girls are here I’ll be okay. But I feel like I’ve backed myself into a weird corner. I’ve spent so long trying to convince the world that I need no one & nothing & I’m brave & strong & I can handle everything because I’m so freaking awesome that now that I’m not brave, I dunno what to do. I don’t know how to be afraid, or lonely, or any of these things. And I don’t know how to adequately express these things, or let anyone into my mind & I want so badly to be the super human I’ve convinced myself I am that I bottle up all of these things until you end up having some sobbing fit because you are just really sick of your own company & your own thoughts & you just want someone near you for awhile, even if it’s just on the other end of a phone. 

  
I’m sure everyone who’s ever made a major relocation has had these feelings. They’re not exclusive to me. I’m just a person who overlooks them so I can live up to an ideal that isn’t actually real; I’m not invincible. I’m sometimes not even very brave. And for some reason I won’t allow myself to understand its okay to feel less than bad ass. So, I find myself turning to my writing more than usual, as it’s always been the thing that helps me sort out my jumbled thoughts in a way that makes me feel better. 

In the interim, I’ll just bawl my eyes out & feel very lonely & immerse myself in painting tomorrow, for the sense of accomplishment that I am making my house pretty will make tomorrow a brighter day, because the best part of being the eternal optimist is you’ll find something to make the day better, even if that something is very small. 

But I was reunited with my bed, so that was rad

Hollow

I know I’m overtired & overwhelmed & likely grossly malnourished as I’ve been living on a steady diet of protein bars, coffee & bottled water & that’s pretty much it. I haven’t slept for more than two hours straight, I’m homesick & I barely know what time it is. Fortunately, my three hour chat with the Gleason Table has kept me a little sane. 

But I miss my daughters & the longer they’re away from me, the more anxious I get. I worry if they’re safe, they’re eating right, are they having fun. What if their dad doesn’t bring them back? And then, the nagging thought that bothers me to the point that I cry a lot. 

What if I am a terrible mother?

Please don’t inundate this blog with comments about how great I am & poppycock. My intention isn’t to be self congratulatory or get compliments. It’s an honest question; am I a terrible mother? 

When I made the decision to move out here, my intentions were good. I wanted to give my daughters more than a mom who works themselves to death at two crappy retail jobs. I wanted to be better, be home for stuff, spend time with them. I wanted to show my 14 year old daughter that you work to achieve your goals. I wanted to increase my earning potential & give them more. But as their dad & grandparents rail me for taking them away so they’ll never see them again & I hang out in my empty house, I wonder if I truly am alienating them like those horrible women that all the Facebook memes talk about. 

Then I find myself talking to friends about helping him find a job here, opening a joint account so we can mutually save for visits, ensuring that they have skype dates, etc. I keep trying & trying to make this easier, but then I learn he’s spent one of the last five days with them. He took them for frozen yogurt & returned them to their grandmother. That’s when it hit me; I’m trying to force him to be a parent so I don’t feel like a bad mother. 

That probably sounds weird, and maybe selfish. But it’s what it is. I grew up without a dad, but that wasn’t by his choice. He died. I don’t want my girls to not have one. So, I push and I push & I probably alienate him further from his kids so that I can feel like I tried to make sure they have two parents. So, now, while I’m a zillion miles from my daughters, I can’t understand why he isn’t maximizing every second with them. I don’t understand why his family just admits that he’ll likely never be part of their lives after this month is done & he brings them to the airport. And I feel all this guilt because they blame me for “alienation.” (Except for an Uncle & a cousin who are really cool people & I’m very grateful for them) Meanwhile, the kids suffer because I encourage the relationship. They made Father’s Day crafts & my two youngest waited by the window because surely Daddy would surprise them. But no one came. Hours passed & not a phone call, until my eldest called. I strong arm him into taking them for a month while he tries to send them back. I force him to be a dad so I don’t feel like a bad mother. 

I remind him that my oldest daughter has her own phone & he can call whenever. But I can’t force someone to do what they don’t want to do. But I keep doing it to ease my conscience because they need a dad & what if it’s my fault that he’s not willing? 

I think about everything I do to be a good mother. I work, i stay healthy, I try to be a good person & kind. I try to be the example so they don’t need to look up to sports Heroes or celebrities, they can look up to me. But I still feel like if I can’t somehow make their relationship with their dad positive, I failed as a parent. 

So, I try to ride out the next 18 days, feeling lonely & isolated. No one has asked to go to the park or play on my phone. The minions movie comes out on Friday & I can’t take the Overlord, with her minion Steve. No one has told me about how this friend flirted with this boy and now this other friend is totes mad & so & so wore the same shirt & its war. But mostly, no tiny people have hugged me. I haven’t read the Paper Bag Princess for the zillionth time. And that’s because I made this choice to give them time with their dad. Time he’s not even using. And I can’t help but feel like it’s all my fault, like my choices to better my situation to give them more broke that relationship, which makes me a terrible mother & someday they’ll hate me for not doing more to help them see their dad, and no matter what I do to be a good role model, they’ll just think I’m a terrible mother. Maybe in the end, it won’t matter that I’m obviously doing something right, as the not so angry teen is bright & beautiful, the overlord has the highest grade in EVERYTHING, and the pirate princess is witty & funny. Maybe they’ll see me as the “self centred c***” their father calls me, which would likely break my heart. But maybe that’s what they’ll think & see, because maybe I’m just a terrible mother. 

She Ain’t You

This week has been super crappy. But also very therapeutic.

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As I packed up Target Mobile into boxes & shipped it all back to head office, I paused for a moment & burst into tears. The overwhelming enormity of what was happening, which I ignored because I had it under control hit me; while I had a job, my friends, my coworkers, they weren’t set. They had families too. My heart was breaking for them. Then, as I do, I took a deep breath & kept going. I also took this time of upheaval to be the sassiest bitch to rude guests. My coworkers joked about how I had become Squidward. I regret nothing.

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I pulled some strings & start my new job on Tuesday. I’m getting a generous severance (although I haven’t been fully explained the details just yet, but if my former boss says its generous, it must be) & I’m going to use it to plan a nice little trip for myself once I’m done training. I’m calling it a friend vacation, where my girlfriends & I are going to enjoy some R&R. I need that. I’m still not 100% happy MHC, but I’ve managed to feel better.

One of the things I’ve had to do is remind myself that the life I want may not be part of the plan (my hippie friend is so proud). That job was a stepping stone to a better job. This new job is a great Johnny punch clock job but my future as a writer awaits if I ever feel comfortable writing again (It’s just easier to let people know en masse what was up with this sitch). I need to keep trusting that the universe knows where I belong & it’ll happen when the time is right & enjoy the moment I’m in.

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 But in order for change to happen, you need to change what you’re doing. I used to write obsessively about nothing when I’m hurting. So, now I write almost nothing & I’ll continue to write nothing until I feel okay. There are reasons I stopped & until I feel okay about them, I’ll just stay quiet. I always tell my best friend that I’m an emotional eater who makes bad life choices. But am I really gonna undo 100lbs of hard work because I lost my job? NO. So, while there were slip ups, I stuck to eating right & when I felt stressed, I grabbed my Stratusphere yoga DVD & FitGloves & found some zen. I went to my crossfit classes & improved my personal best for overhead squats. I can lift heavier, that’s progress. Progress is rad. Moping when bad shit happens or choosing not to deal with emotions (aka the old MHC way) won’t get me to the next phase in my awesome journey known as my wacky life. So, I changed how I cope. I had a huge cry. I texted Erica & Paul & the Psych Major & Damanda & freaked out. They listened without judgment because they’re the best. I ate a large pizza. I listened to Flight by Lifehouse 100 times in a row. I wrote my most raw feelings in a password protected post. Then I got up off my ass & worked out. Endorphins cure all. Suddenly, things didn’t feel so shitty anymore. This morning, things felt optimistic & bright. That couple of days of saying goodbye to my job & my coworkers were hard. But now, it’s time for the next chapter.

Maybe that’s the lesson in life; while people travel with you, there’s always a next chapter. There’s always the next job, the next adventure. There’s always the next lesson. While I don’t believe that should be applied to people, it does apply to events & this one is over & the last two months haven’t been the most awesome, but I bet the next two will be. Why? Because I said so. There is a new job, new coworkers & a really cute pair of jeans I bought a size too small so I could work to fit in them. All of these things will be exciting & I’m looking forward to them all.

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Into the Nothing

I write about my life with pretty candid honesty.

I have a lot of people tell me that they relate to me. I’m not sure why people seem to relate to me. I think I’m an idiot. That’s not true; I think I’m brilliant. I’m strong. I’m beautiful. I’m determined & talented & sometimes funny. I’m witty & charming & I have a great gift in that I can show compassion to literally anyone, even those who have hurt me. But I’ve always talked about my life, my experiences & felt better about who I am.

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This time…I’ve said pretty much nothing. I’ve written stuff that I’ve deleted. I’ve written cathartic things for me. But I haven’t really said anything about my life to anyone. Not even Erica & she’s my person. She knows everything. But here we are.

I guess it’s because I’ve felt…nothing. I’m not shattered. I go to work. I go home. I go to the gym. I go home. I do yoga. I raise my family. I sleep. Repeat. I live my raddest life as I did before. I continue to get whatever I want in my professional life. I continue to succeed in my fitness goals & kick crossfit’s ass. Life did not stop. No, it kept going & I kept going & I did a damn good job. But I had nothing to say. Mainly because there’s nothing to say.

Actually, there’s lots to say. There’s the guilt I feel. I did a lousy thing to a very good person. Erica will comment underneath with an opposite stance, but that’s how I feel. I was a hypocrite. I did the thing that hurt me the most to a person I care most about in this world because I was mad. Then I was hurting because we don’t talk. Duh, we don’t talk because of ME. It’s not their job to talk to me, it’s my job to ask forgiveness! I miss a person I love very much. I didn’t count on missing them this much. I rationalized how long they weren’t in my life & I could do it again, no big! I was wrong. I just want to talk to them, hold them, be near them. When the general awesomeness that is my life happens & something amazing happens & I’m proud, I go to text them because I want them to be proud of me too. But, I can’t. Sometimes I just want to hear their voice…& I can’t. And that hollows me out even more. I keep feeling like this ending is the wrong one. Like, no world could be so cruel as to put something so wonderful back into my life just to have it snatched away & gone forever again. No human heart, even one of steel like mine can handle that blow. This didn’t have to be this way. Maybe one conversation could have turned it around, one I didn’t have because I was livid. But worst of all, I feel like I hurt someone who I abhor the thought of hurting. But I also don’t want to give anyone I know the satisfaction of knowing I am hurting. I am invincible, remember? No one hurts me! I’m an impenetrable force, which means nothing bothers me ever. I’m also not one to whine about things I cannot control. They ran, I acted like a stupid bitch & cut them out. This didn’t likely show them that they do need me. It just hurt…me.

There’s the damage in doing to my own psyche in the name of self preservation. Anyone who knows me knows that the silent treatment is (for me) the worst form of torture. Even if I elected the silence, it makes me sick. I’d rather have my fingers broken. Erica said that obviously my position was something I felt so strongly about that I was willing to put myself through my own personal form of Hell to prove it. But all I proved is what everyone told me for a year; I had become a different girl.

I thought if I kept people away from me, and pushed them away when they hurt me, I wouldn’t get hurt anymore. I thought if I moved far away from everyone, I’d be alone & no one could hurt me anymore. I had built up these huge walls so no one could hurt me anymore because I didn’t want anyone to be able to hurt me anymore. I had become so afraid of getting hurt that I was orchestrating my own hurt. I shut out anything that might hurt me because I was afraid. I didn’t want my beautiful heart to be hurt anymore by anyone. It had endured enough & I wouldn’t allow it. I wanted to be alone, so no one could ever damage me again. But I had lost the ability to work through things with compassion. I had lost my patience, my understanding. Literally everything I loved about myself was gone. Now I’ve lost the one thing I couldn’t bear to lose & the guilt & the feelings of cowardice bother me. I refuse to let them interfere with my beautiful life, so I do what I do best every day: thrive. I succeed. I put on my happiest face & I am fine.

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But, there’s also the tarnish on the shiny coin of my life; it doesn’t matter. I can’t shake that I don’t matter. I am not valuable. These words do not matter. They’re just words on a screen, of no value of importance to anyone, not even me. The feeling that you do not matter, nor are you missed by someone you miss tremendously should be skull crushing. But in the end, it feels like nothing. So, I didn’t write, because it felt like nothing, because I generally don’t feel particularly strongly enough about anything to write about. But I promised one of my dearest friends I would try, for if I had my heart’s greatest joy back, maybe I’d feel like myself again.

But in reality, I just want a phone call that can’t come through from a person who probably doesn’t miss me in the least & has never been known for bravery that I hid from because I’m a coward. And the fact that I brought all of this on myself so that I will never have that is the cruellest nothing of all.

You’re probably thinking “MHC, you are a boss ass bitch! If this is bothering you THIS much, stop being a huge effing baby & pick up the damn phone & call & talk & figure your shit out! What about trust your instincts, be brave, follow your heart?! Stop being such a God damn emo baby & take that step.” I know because that’s what I tell myself. It’s what I always tell everyone. But, I don’t know how to get past the fear; of rejection, of having my heart torn apart in a manner most cruel, or worse, the silence of getting voicemail, hearing a voice & knowing you won’t hear it again. I used to be very brave, then someone who’s opinion I valued said some very terrible things to me, claiming they laughed at me & I was a joke to them. This crushed my spirit in ways no one could ever understand. So, the very thought of putting myself out there made me panic. It terrifies me & I don’t think I’ll ever be able to adequately explain it. I want to call, but I’m afraid they won’t answer. I want to send an email, but I’m afraid of getting a cruel reply or worse, no reply. I want to unblock them on FB, but I’m afraid they’ll shut me out. I hold my phone & legitimately panic like I saw an army of geese because I’m so scared they won’t answer. So, I sit in the silence. I can’t let the walls down, because I might get hurt. I want to get past it. I don’t know how to get past it. I’d love for someone to tell me.

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The other one I hear is “MHC how many chances can you give someone to hurt you?” (This voice has a Texan accent) My answer; as many as they need. For I know how good they really are & what it’s like to be them. So, I want to be good to them & (irony alert) show them they have nothing to be afraid of if they would just let me into their life. Because that is the very core of who I am & I need to love myself above all else. So, I love that part of me & I never want to lose it. This goes for everyone; if you were once my friend & you need one, then I will be here for you. It doesn’t matter what you did. I’ll be there. I wouldn’t want to be any other kind of person.

So, there’s nothing. Just living. Succeeding. Being a good mom. But nothing all the same. But I do know I need to start facing my fears & letting people in, before I do more damage to my beautiful life. I’m just not sure how.

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Homesick

I haven’t had a good late night/early morning blog vent in awhile!

For the first time in the six months that I packed up & ran away, I’m actually homesick. Not even just a little homesick. Like I want to call someone at home & cry like a little kid at summer camp homesick.

I love my new home. I love that I’m surrounded by nature. I love my gym. I love the air & I love the city. But the more I invest in my writing again, the more my professional dissatisfaction at my regular job grows because I want to be writing full time. It was easy to love my johnny punch clock job when I wasn’t writing. But now that I’m in the field again, I’m growing more and more restless, because I want to be working in my field full time. I want to be on the front lines when things happen & ask questions & bring people news. I want so badly to write something that makes a difference in someone’s life & resonates with them & makes them think & grow. I have a talent & I want to use it to impact the world in a positive way. But then I feel guilty because I should be thankful that I have a job. After all, the unemployment rate is skyrocketing & I’m fortunate enough to have a job & I should be grateful, right? But truthfully, my job is a very fine job. They pay me well. They are good to me. But I think about how I wanted to bring people news that would make them think & ask questions & better their communities. Or I’d help people think so they’d become their best selves & happy. And I get so sad because I do none of those things. I sell people high priced luxury items. But I don’t want to be the person who’s aggressively selling phones to the waitress at dinner or all we talk about are how we’re going to sell more phones. I want a career that’s meaningful, that I’m proud of, where I make a difference in someone’s world, anyone’s. And I’m not doing that.

Also, the girls are getting bullied at their school. The angriest teen wants to go back to her friends. And I don’t blame her, because sometimes I’m lonely too. I miss my friends, who are like family to me. With the exception of one coworker & a couple of old classmates, I haven’t made a lot of friends yet & I find myself missing my Windsor people so. I feel like I spend a lot of time telling people that I miss them, mostly because I kind of hope that they miss me too & I just kind of want to hear it. That might sound stupid, but when you’re lonely, sometimes it’s nice to hear that someone wishes you were with them. It makes you feel like you’re important, that you matter. I’m a social person & I love company & I don’t have any. I spend most of my time alone & it’s kind of lonely. I used to pretend it didn’t bother me, because I was so bad ass, but sometimes I wish I could just call up someone for a last minute coffee after work. I love living alone. I love having my independence, but I miss my friends from home more than I’ve cared to admit & some nights I find myself missing my familiar skyline, the one I looked at every night for 13 years & meant home.

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But I know “going home” isn’t really an option, despite my friend Amanda telling me it’s a really great idea. Yes, I have friends, but the root issues are still the same, which is a lack of strong career prospects in my field, which is my only real dream. The punch clock job was supposed to be temporary until I found a media job. But then I stopped looking until I started at Cineklik & the excitement of working in my field as well as the support from those who know me best made me miss it all, more than I should. I just sometimes feel on an island alone with the girls. All of the people I love the most are hours away in Sarnia or Windsor & all of the places hiring in my field are hours away in the other direction in Toronto. And I’m in the middle, feeling very removed & alone.

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I hate to sound so negative, because running away was a really good plan, because I’ve learned so much so far. I’ve learned I can put myself in an unfamiliar situation & I can thrive. I learned that I can be on my own & I can handle stuff without anyone’s help, everything from dental surgery to getting lost & everything in between. All of these things have made me even more bad ass than I was before, because I can adapt to new & different situations better than I did before. There are so many good things that have come from this experience & I need to focus on all of them & not how not everything has gone perfectly.

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Truthfully though, it’s not the city I miss; it’s Saturday breakfasts with the legal assistant ladies. It’s going to dusty old bookstores with my favourite person in the world & last minute adventures with Rena & Amanda to 8 mile. It’s the people I miss & I miss them so. But I also know that part of life’s journey means being separated from our loved ones sometimes. I’ve learned which friendships will prevail through periods of absence & which won’t. I’ve learned that some affection can withstand ages apart, and once put back together, it can be wonderful. And I learned that I can survive on my own, which is a lesson I lose sight of when I do get homesick & just want to hear a friend’s voice or see their face because it’s comforting & makes me feel happy.

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Tomorrow I’ll feel better & I’ll make it a better day. Tomorrow I’ll focus on finding something to enjoy about where I live now. And I’ll remind myself that it’s okay to feel lonely, or sad. Not everything needs to be pretty or perfect all of the time. As long as you make an effort to make the next day a better one.

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