A Better Place

Over the last few months, I haven’t had much faith in humanity. Mostly, because humanity hasn’t given me much to have faith in.

It all started about three months ago, when some teen girls tried to rob my teenage daughter. Suddenly, I didn’t feel as safe in my neighbourhood. Then, I was blindsided and abandoned, subjected to some of the most manipulative mind games & cruelty from a man who claimed two days earlier that he loved me & to remind me of a conversation we were having once we were married, because he couldn’t wait to marry me. Fast forward to 48 hours later, when I woke up extra early for my long commute to get ready for a date we had planned for when my shift was over. 48 hours earlier, he told me he couldn’t wait for date night. I was so excited to finally have time alone with him without work, as I was beyond over work taking over our romance…only to find he erased me from his life, and a cold text saying he was angry & if I gave him space & a little time & did what he said, everything would be fine. I began obeying his commands, both stated and unstated. I felt like a dog, like I was being punished. And nothing I did made it better. He still wouldn’t talk to me. I apologized for what he said was bothering him, because I am a firm believer in owning your shit, I  offered to take steps to resolve the slight, even transferred at my job to help give space, but not a word. I’m not perfect, but no one deserves this treatment. I used to believe he could never hurt me. But it was like the man I love; the kind, gentle, man who sought me out & begged for my affection & loved me so much died and a monster stole his face. It shattered me in ways that I still haven’t really recovered from, and sometimes I’m afraid I never will. I refuse to be a victim, I knew better but I wanted to believe he had changed & would allow us to communicate when he was angry. Bad shit happens, you get up, you kick ass. But it leaves scars. Horrible scars. I don’t know if I’ll ever trust another man again, as I am absolutely terrified of this man I loved. I built up huge walls to keep him away from me, as well as anyone else.

When I build a wall, I make sure its impenetrable. I also have thirty people blocked on Twitter. And emails. I also block your personal, work & even some coworker’s phone numbers. I don’t play
Sometimes I’m still in denial, like there is no way this man that swore I knew him best could do this. He couldn’t be this hateful. I keep thinking he’ll want to fix it like before, but the thought of him coming near me actually terrifies me, something it never did before (even though he would never harm me).  And sometimes, while my friends, therapist, all insist he is emotionally abusive (sending me article after article to back it up), I still squeak out tiny defenses. He’s not mean. He just can’t do anger. I bet he feels badly & just doesn’t know how to come tell me. They ask me how he’d feel if someone treated his daughter as he treated me, because he’s teaching her that this is okay & I still try to defend him. Sometimes at night, I still cry confused tears because I literally just don’t understand how a man went from holding me and telling me that I was the love of his life to never speaking to me ever again in 48 hours & was seemingly proud of destroying my heart & self esteem while I sobbed on his voice mail to please just talk to me. How did we go from looking up engagement rings on New Years Day to feeling like I needed to change everything about me (even though I didn’t want to) just so he’d speak to me. I would delete blogs after minutes for fear of offending him. I would have done anything just for him to talk to me & I still just want him to talk to me, even though I know I deserve a man who would never dream of treating a woman this shamefully. But I still sometimes feel worthless because he won’t talk to me & even though I’m terrified to let him near me, I just want him to fix it like he said he always would. But I don’t ever want to be a woman who meekly kowtows to a man. That is NOT who I am not who I will EVER be. I don’t want to be controlled. So I move forward, focused on being the most bad ass MHC I can be. And despite how harsh this may sound, I don’t believe he’s a bad person. I think he’s a good person who struggles with anger management and commitment & conflict. He made some very poor choices & they are on his conscience, not mine.

A few weeks later, I was robbed, my purse stolen from my workplace. I lost all of my ID and I’m still trying to get it all back. The whole experience left me reeling, I had just transferred and now I didn’t trust my own coworkers. The mall security didn’t help. I have little faith in the police. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly feel safe at work or walking home from work. I feel violated and I look over my shoulder a lot. But I focus on the good things I have; my family, my health, crossfit. My amazing friends who rallied around me during those tough few weeks, including a really cool coworker who became my bodyguard & protector. My super cool therapist. So many awesome people who made this whole experience bearable. By focusing on the good, I could get through the bad. I have so many good things. I am lucky to have these things. I am happy.

(This isn’t a pity me trip. Bad shit happens every day, you get up & keep on going. But I just talked about why we need to be our authentic selves. That means I need to be able to talk about the times life kicked me in the metaphorical balls. It just sometimes takes me a bit, until some of the hurt subsides.)

This isn’t all of you, but you know who you are
But to say it didn’t make me question my faith that people were essentially good would be wrong. It did. I didn’t trust anyone. At one point, after a particularly cruel trick he played,where he messaged Erica claiming he wanted to talk to me, which never happened, I almost stopped trusting Erica & shut her out for a few days, even though she’s the most important person in my life. I shut out everyone for awhile, except for those good friends who forced me to talk. I stopped writing, I had nothing to say. I felt like everything I had believed about humanity was wrong. People aren’t good. I watched people get busted for shoplifting many times a day, road rage assaults, murders on the news & my neighbours got robbed.My house got egged. And I waited for a conversation that I was told he wanted until I realized it was just another manipulation to keep me hanging on to nothing. Everything I had ever staked my beliefs on felt wrong.


Then, little things happened to help me see that most people are good & not to let some bad apples spoil that. My girls & I started attending a new church here in the city. We were welcomed with open arms. My teenager attends youth group. She’s learning and growing. The pastor drove her home because it rained. Suddenly, we felt like part of the community. My district manager, who did everything she could to make my work life tolerable, pulled me aside on one particularly trying day and said “I sought you out to hire you because you are a strong, talented, energetic, genuinely kind hearted person. If he can’t see your value, then he’s missing out.” My new manager did all he could to make me feel welcome. He’s been great fun to work with. My teenager’s teacher went above and beyond to help her with math. My coworker drive me home after working 15 hours. And when my cat went missing this past week, my neighbours formed a search party to help me find my beloved kitty. Each day, something new happened that helped me see that people are good.

If you live in Edmonton, keep an eye out for Peachy
Each day, I saw a little more kindness from people. The cab driver that didn’t charge me because I looked tired. The coworker who gave me a hug because I was so drained I burst into tears at work. The crossfit coach who called me the day after a hard class to check on my hip. The stranger who walked an old lady down the street. The principal who consoled my nine year old when she got sick at school. All restoring my faith in humans. How could you not have faith in the planet with so many cool people around?!


Finally, this weekend, I saw how truly good people could be. After a forest fire displaced many of my fellow Albertans, I saw kids with lemonade stands. People paying for the groceries of the person behind them. A man donating $200 to Red Cross. The same people who were cussing each other out in the street were helping each other. WWE Superstars Kevin Owens & Tyler Breeze created a GoFundMe to help bring people together to raise funds during their personal time (Mr. Owens once did an amazing thing for my daughters during a WWE Live Event last year, so I already knew he was a great guy). And my dearest Bree reminded me that humanity is good, I just need to remember where to look.

This is the wisest person that I know
It shouldn’t take a tragedy to bring out the best in humanity. We should all aspire to be good to each other every single day. And we also need to not lose sight of the good things people do for us, who’s there for us, the random strangers who have your back. Don’t lose sight of them because of a few bad people. Don’t let the bad people of the world take away your belief in humanity. People are good if you believe they are good. And even if they aren’t, be a good person because it costs you absolutely nothing to be a good person, but you will gain so much from it.

Humans ARE good. Yes, some are bad. Some are good, they just do dumb things. But you’ve gotta look around & see the good. It’s there; you’ve just gotta make sure you see it…and live it.

True Colours

Last night, a dear friend of mine showed us her “truth” on our Mommy group.  It was an honest statement about how sometimes it feels like she’s the only one who doesn’t have her shit together because on Facebook, everyone has their shit together. Oh Lordy, let me tell you, that’s a big nope. 

It’s funny, because it came on the heels of a trip I made to my daughters’ school for a Mother’s Day event & some of the moms were so over the top about their perfect lives while I sat in my work uniform & live texted my best friend & the other “bad moms” sat on a bench beside me. It was a lot of Zumba & freezer meals & Chevy Tahoes & hubbys that work late and vacays to Spain & getting a blow out before attending an event for fourth graders. I can’t imagine how exhausting it is to be “on” all of the time. 

I’ve often mentioned how much I hate social media, despite having a lot of it. I actually cut off quite a bit of it, leaving only my Instagram, Twitter & Facebook. The rest I use to rant about TV or post positive happy shit, because I figure if I have a platform to connect with people, I should use it to help encourage and build up others. I find my life is much more peaceful without the need to share my every move with the universe. I like my privacy. But I also want to be my most authentic self, which means admitting I do NOT have my shit together. 

I don’t post everything on social media. I don’t talk about my personal life or my counselling sessions or the like. But I also do my best to keep my authentic self in a world of snapchat filters & Facebook highlight reels (I’m just as guilty, as my FB photo has a filter). Sometimes I feel like we live in a strange world of narcissism & masks. We all have carefully constructed personas. We have a Facebook life, a work life, a personal life, a parenting life, etc. and it made me wonder “Does anyone really know anyone anymore?” Or do we just know the masks we wear. I often wonder if we wear different masks around different sets of people. This way everyone will like us…well, not us. Our pretend character, our selfies, the lies we put out there to make sure everyone likes us. 


I guess that’s the one thing I decided to drop a few years ago. I used to blog about abstract stuff that popped into my head, but I’ve tried to keep my world very authentic & honest. Masks are exhausting, I don’t want to remember what personality to put on today. I just wanna be MHC. So, I started writing about me; my victories, my struggles. My joy. Everything in real time. My FB became a series of honest observations about the world around me (& the odd humblebrag because sometimes I wanna be validated too. I’m human), my kids, my life. It may not be pretty, but it is honest. Not everyone needs to like it, but it’s who I want to be. Yes, my house is a mess that I do a huge clean up during my days off only to find it in the same condition when I get home the next day so I can repeat. I’m not a perfect mom. I’m not a perfect employee. I’m not a perfect friend or human…& I don’t want to be. I don’t want to wear masks or have personas. Maybe the reason I’m good at my jobs in retail & media is because I don’t want to be a pretend human. I just want to be me & relate to people on a human level. 

Maybe the soccer moms were living their authentic lives. Maybe some people on Facebook really do have perfect lives & fairy tale marriages & spotless homes & the like. And I’m so happy for you if you do…but I don’t. And I’m not going to pretend I do. The world would be a better place if we chose to focus on how we treat people, not how we appear to people. Reputation only goes so far, but your character is what really matters & no amount of “likes” or carefully constructed personalities will make you a better person. 


Maybe it’s time we ditch the filters, the shares, the prayers for (insert disaster here), the “work voice,” the different personalities & just be human beings. Maybe not everyone will like us. Maybe that’s okay. The people who matter will love us, which is much better than a thumbs up or an emoji or a replay of a snap from someone we don’t really like anyway. 

Just Like Fire

Ever since I moved out here, I’ve had well wishing friends asking me when I’m going to come home, back to Windsor or London, with them, where I belong. 

The short answer; never. 

I bought a drill this week. I’m going to hang curtains on my day off. This isn’t my permanent home, I intend to find another house when my lease is up next January, but for now, it’s where I live. I’m going to make it cozy & mine. It’ll be nice. I’m back into running, and it’s still horrible, but the scenery is lovely. And I’m back at crossfit & my hips hurt so much less. I make time for lakefront yoga. You can’t ask for better than that. 

 

If you ever need to find me, check my Instagram. I am probably here @ Beaumaris Lake
 
And I’m not sure what my future holds yet. I don’t really like to think long term, when I do, it blows up in my face. Some people, myself included, cannot handle thinking of the future. For all I know, I’ll end up in Iceland writing for some Icelandic magazine. But I’m teaching my girls to be fearless in pursuit of their goals & to work hard & trust their instincts. I’m doing well as a writer here. I do well at my job. I’ve made some awesome friends. My 9yo has an army of bunnies. The kids are thriving & we are enjoying our lives. 

  
But this is the first spring that I’m not planning to uproot my life. Maybe that’s a good thing. I kept running away from something & the universe kept saying “No!” I thought about running home to the safety of Melissa & Doug & familiar, but I’m not really that person. I’m the person who would rather face the scary new challenge than run away. I ran twice & it backfired twice. Maybe it’s time I accept that the universe has a plan for me & I’ll just let it play out. I’m sure it’s probably really rad. Maybe it involves marrying Seth Rollins. 

  
Recently, I was put in a really crappy situation, but instead of crying and moping or running away like a pussbag little bitch & ignoring the problem, I turned it into a positive. My family is better for it. Struggles are not about crying. They are opportunities to be better, do better. I pity the people who cannot see hard times as a chance to evolve & just bail (or lay down & wallow in self pity & blame your depression). You are denying yourself a chance to be the best version of yourself & you end up disappointing yourself & everyone else & stuck wishing you could take it back & hounding their best friend to try to apologize to the party you’ve wronged like a coward. You’ve denied yourself the best part of you & shown them how much better they deserve. The good thing about meeting challenges head on is you have no regret; you know you tried. I refuse to live like a coward, full of regrets. I’m going to grow & become amazing & be the woman I’m meant to be. 

  
I have no time to waste waiting for opportunities or anything else to knock on my door. I kick doors down. I don’t take scraps; I deserve the best life has to offer, the same best I give out. As my girl Brie Bella says, I run it, I rule it & ill make my own happiness out of nothing because I can. 

   
Yes, the fall & winter were a struggle. But part of forging your own path means that sometimes you’ll trip over a root. There is no well worn ground for me to follow. I’m hacking through the branches & finding my way on my own. But at least I can say my journey is mine. It’s not a path someone made for me or the socially accepted life that was dictated to me. I am living for me & teaching my girls to forge their own paths & not follow the herd. They will be strong & fearless warriors & I’m so proud to watch them emerge as strong women. Never be afraid when there is no path. It’s your chance to create one & build the life you deserve. 

  

Dangerous Woman

Hey all!

I’m not dead!

I’ve enjoyed my respite, but it’s time for me to do what I do best; write happy shit. 

I guess I should clarify why I took my downtime. My commute had me exhausted, I felt like I had overexposed my life like a Kim Kardashian nude selfie & I honestly just wanted a few weeks to do some yoga, hang out @ home & reacquaint myself with MHC. 

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Sometimes I feel like I share too much of myself. I’m a very loving & open person & I just want to love everybody. I want to be nice to people. I want to love my girls, my friends, the people I love, even my cat. And I always want to share my happiness with everyone because I assume they are also super happy. That gets me into trouble, as there is always that one or two miserable people who make everything ugly in an attempt to bring you down to their level of misery. I won’t allow it though. My happiness doesn’t come from people or jobs or possessions. It comes from a conscious choice that I make to be happy, simply because I can.  You cannot take my joy, as I create it myself. You cannot ruin someone’s happiness when it can be found in her children, writing, Heavenly Hash ice cream, nature, cute puppies, hot baths, and the ability to change a day with a smile. 

  
My reputation means little to me; my character does. I don’t let gossip or public perception skew me. I would rather focus my attention on being loving, kind, forgiving & compassionate. Those who know best know who I am & who I aspire to be. I won’t let anyone take that from me. 

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I also hate attention except from my kids & like one other person. I would make a terrible celebrity. I hate when people talk about me when I’m not around or stare at me. When people do that, watch me from afar but don’t talk to me, it makes me feel unnerved. I figure if you’re watching me or talking about me, you should come and talk to me, say hi! I don’t even understand why I’d be interesting enough to talk about & I feel like some kind of test subject & it makes me self conscious. Like, I write about my life, but I’m a faceless weirdo to most people. I think I’m the only extroverted person who literally hates attention from strangers or large groups. But during this period, I realized how few people are like me & just want to he happy & love everyone & how much of that unwanted attention I bring on myself by trusting everyone, including the wrong people & sharing so much of myself. I will never stop being kind, patient, understanding & when the world feels dark, it’s important to me to say that I will not allow it to sap my strength & tenacity, my belief in humans & my determination to be kind, understanding & loving, even if no one else is. So, when I feel any kind of edge to me, I decide to retreat so I can retain the best of me. 

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I give so much of myself to the people in this life that I love that I forget to love myself sometimes. I devote so much of who I am to trying to make everyone happy that I end up forgetting to love myself! So I decided to pull myself out of that by kind of internalizing stuff. I didn’t tweet much. I ditched like 60% of my social media & downsized the rest. I kept InstagramFacebook & Twitter, but posted very rarely. I kept my life to myself, save for my nearest & dearest. They knew about how I was adjusting to my new workplace (Someday I will write a damn book about what I see there hahaha), my kids, crossfit (& my distress at missing the open), and my joy that the Overlord & I each own a pair of Becky Lynch goggles. All of the most awesome things.

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But I found that the more I kept my life to myself, the happier I was! I liked that my personal time & space was MINE. I liked not sharing it. I liked that if you wanted to know how I was, you needed to call or text me. And I learned that certain friends didn’t, despite my always being there for them. Nothing was wrong, but I’ve been checking in on them since I moved but I realized how one sided these friendships were. And it didn’t bother me. I don’t need that in my life. You wanna be around me? Make an effort. 

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But the big thing was that I was learning how important it is to maintain my privacy & not blindly trust everyone who seems friendly. It’s important that I create separation for myself, keep my personal life mine, maybe my whole life. That’s not to say that I won’t write about stuff sometimes, but I really enjoyed having that down time to really connect with myself & enjoy that if I was out with friends, or my kids, or even enjoying a cup of coffee by the lake, that was my time. I liked that people had to ask me what’s new because they didn’t read it on FB or Twitter. I felt like I was having real conversations with people again, like in the before time, before social media took over our lives.   

I’m sorry that you’ll see fewer of my Instagram pics, or random Twitter musings, but I really like keeping my life to myself a little more. Maybe the last few weeks were a really good lesson in shut the fuck up. I don’t really see difficult weeks or situations that suck as bad things, I see them as super rad opportunities to evolve as a woman & learn to be a better woman, mom, daughter, sister, partner & friend. I like being able to turn situations I don’t like into super amazing ones (LIKE THE FACT THAT MY TRANSFER = I MAKE SO MUCH MONEY NOW. SO MUCH. IT IS SO STUPID AWESOME HOW MUCH MONEY I MAKE). But like I said, I always want to be a bubbly optimist. So, I needed to get some sleep, spend time listening to bomb ass music & enjoy being that bubbly optimist, as I’m the only MHC on Earth, and I kind of dig her. 

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Make You Smile

Sometimes I realize how ill equipped I am to handle stress in this province of cows. 

For the last two months, all of the things I came to use to overcome stress weren’t there. You can’t sit amongst nature when it’s nuclear winter. You can’t go to the gym & lift heavy when you can’t support your weight on one leg. I felt under a microscope at work. My identity was that I was someone else’s. I sometimes felt like I worked, raised the girls & slept. I want to do so much more than work, pay bills & sleep. I want to be a role model to my girls. I want to be a good friend. I want to be a capable partner who stands on her own two feet, and that my person can see that I want a life of my own, in charge of my own life, not just to be theirs, as that’s never what I want. I want to be physically & mentally strong. Without my normal stress relievers, I felt like I was burning out. 

  
So, I talked to my friend Gleason, who reminded me of how good meditation can feel. I remember it for awhile, and then forget. Thanks to Sarah, I’ve discovered some great new music (Elle King!). And I even bought one of those adult colouring books. I laughed at them, but they do a lot to relieve stress. And of course, writing. Lately, I’ve worried about people reading too much into my blogging. I write whatever I’m thinking in the hopes to give myself clarity, not necessarily “this is what I want right now.” I just know I struggle with asserting myself, and with anything deep, so I write to avoid over thinking and self sabotage. But maybe I need to stop baring my soul so much. Maybe I need to be more guarded about my feelings. Maybe I need to stop assuming that people care when I open up & get personal with them. 

Maybe I need to stop talking about that. 

 

I am WAY too invested in Harry Potter.

In the end, I need to focus on dealing with my own stress levels & get through it on my own, for me. I chose to move away from my support system. I can’t rely on them. I need to remember who I am. I am a bad ass. Tomorrow is my first trip back to the gym after two months. It’ll be intimidating, and exciting. I got a chance to enjoy nature for the first time in forever. It was so nice to just have me, my music & fresh air. And if I get stressed at home, I’ll colour. I’ll work at work & continue to do well. All good things. And once again, I’ll feel like I’m kicking ass & taking names & setting a good example for the little ones that look up to me, which is what I want most in life.  I love them & I want to set a better example for them. I want to grow because I love myself & want to evolve for me. For the first time in awhile, I’m focusing on my own needs so I can be a better woman. Sometimes I give so much to my girls & the people I love & my mom & my brother that I forget about me. I need to remember to nuture myself. 

  
Part of adapting to a new life is learning that I can’t do things the old ways all of the time. I can’t always get around trees or lift heavy things. I may not always have friends to talk to. I’ve got to adapt. So, I’ve been learning to adapt & find ways to be a better mom, writer, friend, partner, and woman. Because that’s what life should be about; getting better, learning to be better, and treating people better. That’s all I want for myself; to set a better example & love better. 

  

Big & Loud

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t. 

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

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

  

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

  

My Reply

Sometimes I read stuff & get cranky & pull a Peter Griffin & play “What Really Grinds My Gears.”

  
Today’s edition: why women are catty bitches & I’m so over it. 

Last night, I watched the Golden Globes because I have worked as an entertainment reporter for many years & I like pretty dresses God dammit. I could comment on the show, Ricky Gervais, but instead, I’ll address why women are catty bitches & why it drives me nuts. 

Actor (& super hunk if you ask all of my friends) Jason Statham & his girlfriend of five years, Rosie Huntington-Whitely announced their engagement at the event last night, with full attention on Ms. Huntington-Whitely’s sparkly new bauble. As always, the comments on this story included why Statham, 48, shouldn’t be dating Huntington-Whitely, 28, because the age difference is gross & of course, why the ring was too small, ugly, etc. I’m sure Ms. Huntington-Whitely cares so much that random women online hate her ring, but it was sad to see few positive well wishes, just women taking shots on another woman. Similar things happened when photos of Blake Lively’s engagement & wedding ring hit the Internet, only that ring was too big, gaudy & why was it pink?! Kevin Costner was forced to address the price tag of the ring he chose for his wife Christine Baumgartner (Joan Rivers famously made Baumgartner cry by mocking her ring, prompting her husband to purchase her a much larger one). But why does it matter to the masses? Unless Ryan Reynolds or Jason Statham is buying you an engagement ring, it doesn’t matter. Those rings are gifts from them to their wives, maybe we should back off. Even on FB, I see people snarking at women about the size of their wedding rings, their homes, their Pinterest crafts. No building each other up, just a sick game of one up-manship. Why? I know when the time comes, I wouldn’t care what my boyfriend bought me, or if it met my “dream ring” criteria (if I really had that. I’m so indifferent hahaha). If he picked it out for me, it could be a garbage tie & to me, it would be the most beautiful thing on the planet because he bought it for me & wanted to marry me & much like thee women, I wouldn’t even notice the cattiness. 

 

We live in a society where wage inequality is still a thing, women’s rights are being marginalized in my neighbour’s land, Planned Parenthood is under attack. Women are still being forced to choose between career & family & told to “keep their legs closed” to prevent sexual assault or unwanted pregnancy. Girls are sent home because their clothing might distract boys, we blame women for their own sexual assaults & child support gets clawed back, leaving women in a cycle of poverty. Meanwhile, instead of taking up for one another, we are belittling each other for things that don’t matter & superficial bullshit that means nothing at the end of the day so women can feel like they’ve “topped” each other. Women are even attacking each other for such things as feeding their babies, as Alyssa Milano learned when talk show host Wendy Williams (who made headlines when she claimed actress Jennifer Lawrence deserved to have her privacy violated and her private nude photos leaked online last year) told her that breastfeeding should not be done in public, as breasts are meant for sexual enjoyment. Ms. Milano shut her down, by why are women constantly defending their basic rights or things that should bring them joy…to other women?

Even when women are successful, we tear them down. Look at the comments about Taylor Swift representing the wrong type of feminist because of her friends. They build each other up, celebrate their uniqueness. So, we cattily tear them apart for being friends because they’re too pretty, they’re models, etc. Okay. 

 I don’t compete with other women. I teach my daughters that we don’t compete with other women. I compete with myself to be a better woman. When I see women belittling other women, I often wonder why they are so insecure that they can’t celebrate the achievements of other women. Women wonder why we’re still fighting the same battles, it’s because of us. We’re attacking each other! Either because we’re the wrong type of feminist, or because they fed their kid or they may possibly have something you don’t. If women spent half as much time building each other up as you did questioning if they understood what feminism means to you or snarking about looks, fashion, etc. women’s rights wouldn’t be something we were still fighting for. 

  
I’m sorry for the rant, but I guess I’m sick of seeing women have their joy trampled by catty women, women who should be supporting other women, famous or not. Perhaps if you can’t be nice, maybe you should just be quiet. 

  

Playing with Fire

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll stop being an old fart now. 

Confident

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  

Hello

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

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

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

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

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

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

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