Tag: family

Look at my life

by maryhelenc, posted in Life, When Things Suck Hard

Alexander Ovechkin signed a one year deal with the Washington Capitals.

I was doing my normal doomscrolling, learning all about NHL free trade frenzy and Taylor Swift’s wedding, when I saw the news that Alexander Ovechkin had signed a one year deal with the Washington Capitals. After seeing the news, I did what I had done for so many years; I dialled my mom’s number to tell her and also tell her how he wasn’t handsome, he looked like a weird muppet. The call said the customer I had reached had not initialized their voicemail.

The number was active. Someone was using it and hadn’t initialized their voicemail. They were possibly putting it on business cards or giving it out at bars, hoping to make a connection. Maybe it was on a resume for a job. But there was one thing that it wasn’t; it wasn’t my mom’s number anymore.

Truthfully I haven’t dialled the number in a long time. My mom’s decline was slow and by 2024, she didn’t really know how to use her phone often. It was a number I called to get that familiar message that voicemail wasn’t initialized, wishing maybe dementia wasn’t real and I could have a conversation with my mom about what to make for dinner or reality TV. But grief doesn’t care about facts or logic. It only triggers a memory that makes you want to talk to your mom about a weird looking hockey player only to remember there is no one to talk to anymore.

My mom’s passing has been an odd period of grief. I didn’t really allow myself to feel the weight of loss because I was the executor of her estate. I had to close bank accounts and pick up ashes. I had to plan memorials (with the help of my sister) and call family, and bite my tongue when I learned that family doesn’t always mean what you think, as I waited for condolences from relatives that never came. Then I threw myself into my job, into helping my husband cope with the devastating loss of his own mother, and pretending that I was fine. I was perfectly fine until Alexander Ovechkin signed a new deal with the Washington Capitals and I remembered my mom would never watch another Capitals game ever again.

My mom loved hockey. As a kid, I never liked it. It always felt like a secret thing my mom and brother did together and my sister and I weren’t welcome. As a teenager, I developed a passing interest in the Red Wings and became a goalie apologist because Chris Osgood was dreamy. In Edmonton hockey is enmeshed in our culture. Ryan Nugent Hopkins helped my kid plant a vegetable garden at his school when he was six. But it wasn’t until I became friends with a born and raised Oilers fan that I realized how much fun the sport (or how emotionally devastating) the sport could be.

Unlike me, my mom always loved hockey. She named my brother after a Maple Leafs Goalie. When I was a kid, Wendell Clark was her guy. She was a ride or die Leafs fan, and told me stories about when she followed their farm team to every game for an entire season with her friends before she met my dad. However, over the years, she stopped being a fan of a team and just enjoyed the game until Alexander Ovechkin became her guy. He was THE hockey player. She read books about him, knew every stat, and collected Ovechkin merch. All of it played into silly fan superstitions that we would tease her about and when the Capitals won the Stanley Cup, she sat there drinking a bottle of Baby Duck wine and celebrating like it was the greatest day of her life. My mom didn’t drink; she had one rum and eggnog every Christmas and one pina colada at Mother’s Day brunch. But here she was pounding back glasses of the world’s shittiest Prosecco (while clamming it was champagne) and breaking my good wine glasses with joy. It was that serious.

One of the last things we did together before her stroke was go to a preseason game with my kids. My son was terrified of the Oilers mascot and ran away like he saw a fire. We ate popcorn. We cheered. She didn’t ask me when I was going to meet someone because kids need a father figure. She didn’t criticize my hair or tell me I worked too much. We just had fun. We finally had a common interest that we enjoyed, even if we didn’t like the same teams. But most of all, she was excited that she finally had a terest we could talk about, that is, until she couldn’t talk about anything anymore.

In the early days of grief, I didn’t feel any. I felt relieved. My role as caretaker was over. But those turned to anger when I saw that life just went on without any condolences, or baskets of muffins that people send in the wake of death. There was just a call from a doctor and unreturned messages and voicemails from extended family, as they carried on with their day like nothing of note happened.

There was anger that my mom’s ashes were spread on my father’s unmarked grave that hadn’t been visited. The anger that comes from feeling like someone whose life was complex and difficult was gone, and it felt like the universe moved and no one noticed. So I moved along and threw myself into my life, all while feeling guilty that I wasn’t grieving like I should. After all, my mother in law had passed and my husband needed me. He was struggling and I wanted him to be okay. My kids were grief stricken, wondering why the Earth just kept spinning as if the little old lady who made Pillsbury cookies with them while she yelled at the Blue Jays was gone.

In this space, I sit in a weird limbo, waiting for calls from aunts and uncles that will never ever come telling me “I’m sorry your mom died and you did a good job taking care of her for so many years. I’m sorry she missed your wedding. She would have loved it I’m sure.” But also wondering how one day you’re sitting at Rogers Place celebrating your daughter’s birthday, and then just a few short years later, you’re unable to go to your granddaughter’s graduations, the very dates you swore you had to stay healthy enough to attend, and gone 18 months before you even have the chance to attend your grandson’s, passing alone in the Royal Alexandra Hospital because your caretaker daughter couldn’t get there in time. That guilt settles in like an old friend I don’t want to talk to anymore. I wonder if she knew she was alone. Was it a rare moment of lucidity, aware that we couldn’t get there. Did she think we didn’t want to be there? Or was she content in her ALS induced delusions, thinking we were all still by the fireplace at a house I haven’t lived in for a long time, imagining a long ago Christmas morning or birthday with a Betty Crocker cake her grandchildren made.

I’ll never really know.

But I do know that her old Ovechkin Bleacher Creature remains on a bookshelf in a long term care facility. They begged me to let them keep it as a reminder of her after she died. The Ovechkin Funkos remain in my eldest daughter’s collection. The jersey in my youngest daughter’s closet. These once important collectibles are no longer good luck charms for games or decor for a room in a home I no longer live in. They are scraps of a person whose number has been reassigned and doesn’t know that her favourite player renewed with his team. But they exist to remind us that she existed, even if only to us.

Hit the wall

by maryhelenc, posted in Current Events, Life, Mommydom, My New Life As Me, Relationships, Seriously WTF?, When Things Suck Hard, work life

This year has broken me down in so many ways and it just keeps on going.

Four months and 23 days after losing my mom, my mother in law passed away after a long battle with Parkinson’s. While my relationship with my own mother had its peaks and valleys, my mother in law could only be described as the most wonderful lady in the entire world. Some of my fondest memories as a young girl were having dinner with my husband’s family, and his mom spending the entire evening chatting with me, complimenting my hair and clothes and telling me about some new product she bought. I had never seen a family like theirs; so full of love and respect, like a sitcom family, and she was the figurehead of this magical group of people I longed to spend time with. She was this beacon of joy and light. As I grew, she’d still treat me like I was her favourite person when she’d run into me on the street. I wasn’t treated like a random girl her son used to date; I was always welcomed like an old friend she was delighted to run into. When I’d talk to my husband on the phone long before we took a step towards a future, he’d always make it a point to tell me that his mom asked about how I was and I’d always reply with “awwwww I love your mom so much!”

Years later, I finally got my wish to join this family. I was so excited because I got to be her daughter in law. Unfortunately, by then her illness had advanced, and my youthful dreams of us wedding dress shopping and chatting up my friends on the dance floor at my wedding remained locked away in my imagination. But we had a chance to spend time together and in those times, I was treated with the same warmth and love.

Every time I look at my ring, I remember how much she would fawn over it and tell me how much she loved it

This grief is different. This grief is laced with longing for moments that didn’t happen, a photo together, and the overarching guilt that comes from wishing things had worked out earlier, and feeling like you’re disrespecting the family you’re blending by feeling that way. There’s also the sadness and helplessness that comes from watching your husband feel the weight of grief and knowing there’s nothing you can do to help him other than just be there.

It just seems like the never ending spectre of grief refuses to leave my home. He just lingers, stealing the people we love most slowly, chipping away at their faculties until they leave us physically. Every time I pull myself up from under the weight of it, a new thing pulls me back under. My sister has a health scare, my beloved cat Peachy starts showing signs of cognitive decline. The darkness that has enveloped my family this year seems to have taken permanent residence here, at least for now.

However, in the wake of all of this sadness, I search for silver linings. Those silver linings will guide me through the fog of sadness that haunts my home. I love my new job. I feel challenged, and even scared. I’m pushing myself out of my comfort zone for the first time in a long time. Sometimes I feel very overwhelmed and scared that I’m not going to do well, and that feeling helps me focus and push myself. I can’t remember the last time I really had to push myself to succeed and it’s so empowering. Maybe that sounds crazy, but I can feel my confidence growing. I feel myself taking accountability when something doesn’t work. But more importantly, I feel myself becoming someone better than before. That person will find her way and become a success.

Also, I started at a new gym. My daughter and I started doing HIIT and it has been so much fun. My weight has been an issue for some time, and it bothers me that I don’t feel…hot. So I took a huge step to improve. I may be the oldest and fattest, but my daughter and I are doing something together. We laugh and have fun. It makes me so happy to just go and do these silly workouts with her and just enjoy each other’s company. And I feel better. I feel healthier and I can’t wait to see results as we go.

I look at where I live and I do my best to be grateful. I have a beautiful home with a magical view. I have a wonderful blended family. I have my health. I have an amazing sister who I love. My husband and I have each other. I have so many good friends. I have my beloved cats. Most of all, I have the knowledge that my mom wouldn’t want me to live my life under a shadow of grief. She’d want me to live a happy life with my husband and try to enjoy being a newlywed.

The view is amazing

Sometimes when things seem dark, the only way to move forward is to remind yourself of those silver linings and use them to propel you back into the light. It seems silly, but sometimes those silver linings can be a lifeline that will guide you through whatever storms come along; which I’ve learned can feel sometimes never ending.

Nostalgia

by maryhelenc, posted in Life, Mommydom, Relationships, Seriously WTF?, Social Media, When Things Suck Hard, work life

2026 started off with a big old pile of suck.

After almost six years of struggling with cognitive decline from ALS and dementia, my mother passed away. Losing a parent sucks; I know this from experience. However, losing a parent under these circumstances is weird. My mom and I had a very strange relationship. I felt more like her parent than she was mine. For most of my childhood and even my adult years, she didn’t really like me. I’m sure she loved me and my sister to the best of her ability, but she didn’t like me. Part of my grief was grieving the mom I always wanted. The mom who cared about my day. The mom who didn’t yell hateful things at me and then buy my forgiveness with toys, while I waited for my sister to come home and give me the hugs that offered me the comfort and security I longed for. Part of me longed for those moments as an adult where we felt like friends. We could have conversations and watched TV. It was nice, and sometimes I’d call her phone in the hopes that she’d answer and we could talk about reality TV and Jeopardy.

My grief took a backseat to arrangements, phone calls, and the realization that people who should care just didn’t. As I comforted my children and worked out details with my sister, I waited for the phone calls from her siblings that never came. I was offered flimsy excuses and I was told to protect my peace, but I don’t feel peaceful sitting idly by while they treat my mom’s passing as a headline they don’t care about. It’s stupid, but she used to tell me she worried they wouldn’t even care if she died; she was right. I guess that hurt as much as her passing. There’s something so sad about knowing someone’s worst fear is a reality and you’re just watching it happen.

But mostly, I find myself just sitting in a world of memories, trying to make sense of how I feel about this loss in my life. Am I relieved that my role as caregiver is over? Am I devastated that we will never have a normal chat again? Or am I glad her pain is gone? I don’t really have an answer, so I throw myself into work and memories of times that felt better than right now.

Sometimes I’m seven years old and sitting in front of a red panda cage at the zoo. It’s summer and I spent months asking to go. My mom is overwhelmed; three young kids alone at the zoo, especially when one didn’t want to go can be a lot. There’s that moment where I desperately wanted a plush red panda, but she couldn’t afford it. I didn’t understand then; all I knew was that my mom was a big meanie who didn’t want me to have a red panda of my very own. The years passed, and I was a single mother myself. I remember the times I would have to say no to movies or treats, or that I would have to miss things because I had to work to keep us cared for. I’d lay in bed at night covered in guilty tears and I’d think about how mad I’d get when we were so poor and I just wanted normal experiences and I thought about how she must have felt the same way.

Sometimes I’m 14 years old and I had to miss a day of school to go to court. The social workers said mom had improved, and two years of society wardship was almost up. I was so sure that she’d find a new townhome and we’d go back to live together. Instead I found out she had agreed we would become wards of the Crown. We would never be a family again. Not in the same way. I felt so angry and rejected and sobbed on my bed. My foster parents explained that sometimes the best thing a parent can do to express their love is to allow their kids the space to grow up safe and happy. Sometimes that means understanding that they aren’t right for the job. I didn’t understand that then, but I do now.

Sometimes I’m 21. I’m pregnant. I’m covered in bruises. Three of my ribs are broken. I’m scared to tell anyone what’s wrong. I meet my mom for coffee and I muster up the nerve to explain what’s going on in my life. Before I do, she tells me how relationships take work and you can’t just break off an engagement for any old reason, so I say I slipped on ice and that’s how I broke my ribs. I go home, feeling hollow and empty, wishing I had a mom I could confide in.

Sometimes I’m 36 and it’s my birthday. I went for my run and I’m enjoying the quiet. My mom gives me a phone number of her pharmacist’s son. Apparently I’ve been single for too long. “I just want you to be happy.” I give up trying to explain that I am happy. I have my kids and fitness and my job. But we have good conversations now, and it’s nice sometimes.

Finally it’s November. I haven’t spoken to her in a few weeks. Mostly because she’s not there. Every conversation made me realize that she doesn’t know me; she doesn’t know where she is. Gone was the quasi friendship we found as adults. There’s just a void where a person I knew used to be. But my phone rings and it’s my mom. She asks about my wedding, about my kids. We talked about sports and it was like she wasn’t sick anymore. It was a normal chat. When it was time to hang up, she said “I’m glad you’re going to be okay.” I promised I’d visit her in April and bring her chocolates from her favourite chocolatier here in town…

…but six weeks later she was gone.

Everything after was a whirlwind. Maybe I’ll be able to grieve next month when my siblings and I scatter her ashes. Or maybe I’ve been grieving since her stroke and never knew. But I like to think she’s with my dad; finally happy and at peace after a lot of years of struggling and regret. Maybe it’s that thought that helps me feel at peace. It also helped me realize that it’s so important to plan ahead, because it’s hard to grieve when you’re dealing with a bunch of arrangements and you don’t know what you’re doing and you just want your Mommy to be there, even if the memories of her being the kind of mommy you wanted are fleeting and rare.

But I’ll take solace in that last chat. She knew I’d be okay because I have my children, my husband, and my wonderful friends and extended family. No matter how dark things feel, I have so much warmth and light to guide me.

Where the Wild Things Are

by maryhelenc, posted in Fitnesslicious, Life, MH vs Dating, Mommydom, My New Life As Me, Relationships, Seriously WTF?, When Things Suck Hard

Hello from my new home!

After a crazy 30 days of packing, cleaning, and saying goodbye to all of my best friends, I got on a plane with my fiancé, kids, and cats, and flew back to Ontario. We even managed to squeeze in one last trip to Rogers Place to see my beloved Oilers before our Stanley Cup hopes and dreams were dashed.

I’d love to tell you that everything went smoothly and I’m now safely tucked away in my new town and all is well.

LOL I actually had a nervous breakdown.

Kudos to my fiancé and one of my best friends, who had to lead me out of my old house and to the airport with my kids in the backseat and my cats on their laps while I sobbed that the house cleaner didn’t mop the floors and I just wanted to mop my floors and sit in my house for just a few minutes more. I know it was just a rental. But it was my home and I truly wanted to stay there forever. Instead I had to vacate my job and move across the country while my life was completely out of my control. After we arrived at home, I bawled uncontrollably until I finally fell asleep to the sound of my fiancé promising me that our lives together would be magical. The loss of my home and job ruined me in ways no one can imagine. My life is so uncertain. I’m job hunting but I don’t have a position yet. I don’t know when I’ll be getting my things. I don’t know anyone yet and I’m worried about pulling my own weight. I don’t want my partner to have to pay all of our bills. I haven’t figured out how to transfer my mom to a long term care facility in Ontario. Things are uncertain. I don’t like not being in control and nothing is really in my control. So I help out around the house and wait for my car to arrive.

Also I found a kick ass new salon. They aren’t Icon Downtown Edmonton, but they’re really great

But I guess this has been a good lesson for me to learn to surrender control and really allow someone to support me. Even though I’m getting married in the fall, I struggled with letting my partner help and support me. I like doing everything on my own and I hate relying on a man for everything. Now I’m basically as emotionally fragile as a baby bird and the idea of making a decision of any kind sends me into a panic attack, which means my partner has to pick up the slack. He booked the flights, arranged for my car to be shipped to our new hometown, spoke with my former landlords (who again, are wonderful. This situation has been extremely traumatic and heartbreaking, but I am not here for any negativity towards them), and helping us feel comfortable. He had to step up for me while I have been useless. I cry, try to adjust to my new time zone, hunt for jobs, and sleep. Meanwhile he works, assembles furniture, makes dinner, and comforts me while I try to pick up the pieces of my life and figure out how to feel like a member of the family and not a helpless damsel in distress.

I’ve always tried to make sure my life isn’t just a highlight reel and this is no different. I’m not having a good time. I truly loved Edmonton, my home, and my job. I’ve always defined myself by my job, my work ethic and now I don’t have that. I want to contribute to my household and pay bills and have a purpose. I feel very lost and unsure of what to do next. But all is not lost. I have a lot to be grateful for. I live in a beautiful home in a lovely community. I am fortunate that he can support us until I can find work. I have friends in Ontario I’m looking forward to connecting with. I get to go for walks and join a gym and live a healthier lifestyle. My front yard is a beach. There are worse places to land when your life falls apart than a lake house where your partner makes you breakfast in bed and dotes on you while you regain your sanity. So, while things feel broken, eventually I’ll wake up and not feel like I’m two hours behind, and like I’m exactly where I need to be.

I Look In People’s Windows

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

Sometimes my life feels like it’s going a mile a minute and I don’t get any real time to stop.

I don’t mind the pace of it all. I have morning carpool with the kids, work, visiting my mom in long term care, maintaining a home, and (in theory) planning a wedding. The last one is mainly either procrastinating or crying. I’m the best.

My fiancé and I divided up wedding planning accordingly. He picks the venue, the food, and keeps me from going insane, and I…plan the wedding. Trust me folks, he has a MUCH harder job. So far he has picked a venue and looked at the menu and I half ass built this website and went dress shopping and possibly had some kind of nervous breakdown. So we’ve both accomplished a lot.

Planning a wedding triggers all kinds of emotions. I’ve always been afraid of commitment, even in my youth. My fiancé told me he was going to marry me when we were teens and I LITERALLY LAUGHED AT THIS MAN. My first marriage was a disaster of epic proportions. He didn’t want to get help for his depression; I didn’t want to be there at all. I’m so scared of being trapped in a situation where things just escalate and become violent again. There’s also the income deficit; my partner out earns me by a considerable margin. I’ve always prided myself on being an equal. I spent eight years with a man who made less than me but also made me account for every dollar I spent. I don’t want to be a drain or someone that can’t contribute to her home and family. There’s also ageism and the body image issues. Am I too old for this and should we have just gone to the courthouse? Because of this, I hyper analyze every detail and ask my fiancé if he’s mad at me eleventy thousand times a day.

(Fortunately, my fiancé is a very patient man, because otherwise he’d be driven nuts by now)

Basically, much like everything else in my life, this change has made me an anxious ball of anxiety! However, the one thing that doesn’t scare me is the person I’ve chosen to spend my life with. He is the part that makes sense. I try not to talk about my personal life too much, but everything is easy with him. We communicate well, I trust him implicitly, he’s compassionate and kind, he loves my kids and is excited to blend our families. The idea of spending my life with him is easy; it’s the smartest decision I’ve ever made. It’s not him that makes me fear commitment. It doesn’t even feel like commitment; instead it feels like it’s supposed to be this way. My fear of commitment has nothing to do with him; he’s perfect. My therapist and I have been working on this and we are realizing that my fear of commitment has nothing to do with my partners and everything to do with me.

I have a confession folks; my name is MHC and I have control issues…and abandonment issues…and body image issues…

I grew up believing I would never be able to count on anyone. My mom let me down, my family was dysfunctional, so I decided if I just did everything on my own, then no one could ever hurt me ever again! Also, no one could reject me, or tell me I’m not good enough for them. If I kept to myself, then I couldn’t let them down. If I just accepted that I’m not traditional wife material, then no one would want me to be their wife! Self sabotage; WHAT A BRILLIANT IDEA! I’ve always struggled with gender roles and norms. I never wanted to be the white picket fence wife who made cookies and stayed home to raise a family. I wanted to raise kids, but the rest seemed terrifying. I wanted to have my own career, earn my own money, be an equal. But I grew up with people who made me feel like wanting to be more than that made me somehow less.

This feeling of being less has been growing since I was 19 and a boy told me he was going to marry me someday (kudos to him; he played the long game). Ever since I’ve always worried about disappointing people when they realize I’m not good at traditional wife things, I’m stubborn, I struggle to open up about my feelings, and I’m pretty much neurotic every second. So, I’d pack up my shit and run away again. New town, new adventures, new life where I can just be on my own. However, once you find yourself settled, you start to look introspectively. It was never about how anyone else saw me. It was that I always saw me as a broken toy; damaged by trauma, product of the system, dysfunctional family. I looked at the highlight reels and surface levels and compared it to my own experiences and felt like a stray cat you need to coax inside. Why would anyone want a stray cat when you can get a fantastic Scottish Fold or Himalayan Blue?

All of my fears came from the fear of being judged too harshly for my shitty upbringing, failed marriage, or lack of real estate, but it was really just me judging my own reflection and seeing how I stack against my own demons and phantom women that may haunt my partner’s ceiling. Clever, beautiful women with talent and never talk too much and aren’t ever too loud. If they couldn’t make it work, what chance did I, the stray cat who is too loud and has never stopped talking, have?

Part of getting over my fears of commitment is actually fully accepting myself and accepting that someone is capable of loving me. It’s a slow process, with a ton of procrastinating and a fuck ton of therapy, but if I keep working at it, maybe I’ll have something planned by my wedding day, which has a date set because at least one of us knows what they’re doing.

Remembering Sunday

by maryhelenc, posted in Current Events, Life, Mommydom, My New Life As Me, Relationships, Seriously WTF?, Social Media

Isn’t life rad?

Summer 2024 is behind us and now it’s time for me to BOMBARD YOUR ASS WITH PUMPKIN AND SPOOKY CONTENT. GET READY BITCHES.

Anyone who knows me knows basic white fall is basically my personality. Pumpkins, leaves, red lip, and of course, Halloween. This means that it’s time for my annual viewing of the Nightmare Before Christmas, starring my one true love; Jack Skellington. Yes, I am basically a relic from Hot Topic. Fight me.

But, fall also means my birthday, which always makes me a bit more introspective and reflective, but don’t worry; the overthinking and general neurosis remains. I was ordered to plan something for my birthday because my sweet angel fiancé understands that I have an unhealthy obsession with birthdays stemming from a childhood that was devoid of love and the first time anyone I considered family celebrated my birthday was when I went into foster care. If I like you, there is a million percent chance I have gone buck wild about your birthday at least once. Unfortunately, he won’t be able to celebrate with me until ten days later, but he still wants me to be happy. I haven’t celebrated my birthday in almost three years, so I’m excited to have some friends over to play games and drink wine.

The last two years have been some of the most challenging and transformative of my entire life. I was tested emotionally, physically, and financially, to the point where I genuinely believed I would lose everything. I devoted every second of my life to protect someone I loved from their darkest urges and was afraid to leave them alone for a second. My job was ripped out from under me as I was on the cusp of building a way to do good for people who need it, and I was drowning in debt. My health was poor and I missed the wedding of one of my closest friends. I gained all of the weight I worked to lose. My mom was diagnosed with dementia and I was a full time caregiver with no help from my family. I genuinely had days where I just didn’t want to wake up anymore and it was only muscle memory keeping me going. But life has a way of pulling you forward to the light if you just believe that you can get there.

And I did.

No, I haven’t lost all of the weight. I’m 44lbs down and halfway to where I want to be again. No, I am not a zillionaire, I don’t have a pet penguin, money is still tight, and woodland creatures do not clean my house.

But I DO have a job that I love, my two youngest children are starting amazing educational adventures and I’m so proud of them. I have myself back, and that’s in part to a small but amazing group of friends who stayed in the trenches with me until the bitter end, and I’m so grateful for them.

There’s my best friend in the entire universe, who has been by my side during the bleakest moments of the last two years. She drove my kid to the hospital while I was stuck in Red Deer. She was the only person who came to a holiday party, even though she had been in a serious accident the day before. She gave me a pep talk when her attempt to fix me up went poorly, telling me that I deserved someone who would move mountains for the privilege of loving me. I don’t know where I’d be without her, and while she would tell you she is evil, I would tell you everything she’s ever done is right and good.

We also need updated selfies lol

There’s my best friend since high school, who was my lifeline during the darkest times. She helped me understand my own kid better, and always had an ear. We didn’t get a pic this summer, but spending time with her and her family was one of the most magical parts of my summer. It was like nothing changed; we just sat and chatted, all we needed was coffee. She’s the level headed voice of reason I need when I let my emotions rule. I’m so grateful for her. There’s my former manager who’s become one of my friends. We communicate in memes, but I know if I ever need a friend (or a Nanalan meme) he’s right there.

There’s my other closest friend, who is a literal angel on Earth. She’s the most patient, empathetic, and understanding human being I know. She shares all of my nerdy interests and she’s so positive and warm, you can’t leave spending time with her and not feel happy. It’s just not possible.

It’s so easy to distance yourself from someone when they’re struggling. I had friends that I assumed would always be a part of my life, now we watch the other’s life play out on social media and she messages my fiancé her well wishes instead of being invited to my celebratory dinner or helping me plan my wedding. It’s so easy to ignore texts or pretend you don’t know someone anymore when they’re down and they aren’t able to do anything for you, or build you up. But my small circle didn’t do that. They pulled me closer during a time when I didn’t even want to exist. Now I’m on the other side of it all, in my beautiful house in my favourite city, with my incredible family and cats, professionally and personally fulfilled. I look at my life now and I’m filled with gratitude for the people who were there for me during the absolute worst of times, and now I get to celebrate so many happy things with them; birthdays, holidays, Vegas, and when I marry the man of my dreams. We get to celebrate milestones our kids achieve, and I’m just so grateful that they like me enough to put up with me.

I’m due for another spin around the sun, and for the first time in a long time, I’m so excited to celebrate what’s to come. The future just feels warm and bright, and I can’t wait to see what fall 2024 brings for everyone I love.

Night Drive

by maryhelenc, posted in Life, MH vs Dating, My New Life As Me, Relationships

GUESS WHO IS GETTING MARRIED?!

LOOK AT THIS RING!

That’s right! ME. You probably guessed because if you follow me on social media, you would know that this ring is going to be my personality for the next eleventy million years. I’d apologize, but I am not the least bit sorry.

Also, before we get too deep into this, here are the ring details. It’s a 2.03 carat emerald cut lab diamond centre stone set in rose gold with a hidden halo. He designed the ring. I did not give any input. Yes, he’s that amazing and knew exactly what I wanted and designed it for me while I was sleeping.

Let us continue. I’m sure you have many questions, starting with how did this happen, why did this happen, and aren’t you afraid of commitment?

How is pretty straightforward. I had been telling my partner for weeks that if my beloved Oilers won the Stanley Cup, he should come to Edmonton for the festivities. INSTEAD THEY LOST (please respect my privacy during this time). To my surprise, he’d booked a flight and showed up anyway! We went for dinner and I took him to my favourite part of the city, and he asked me to marry him. No fancy speech, but he did cleverly take the ring out of the box so I had no idea he had it with him. He also didn’t get on one knee because it had rained and he didn’t want to get into the mud. My children and girl friends had been teasing him, but it’s since been corrected. It was private, simple, and perfect; zero chance a lady would say no.

For why did this happen?

I guess the short answer is because I’m in love with the man. Truthfully, I probably always have been in some way or another. The longer answer is much more complicated.

As kids we were wildly incompatible. In the height of young love, he told me he was going to marry me someday and I laughed at him, because I wasn’t the marrying type. Back then I had wild dreams of travelling the world as a reporter. I wanted to interview celebrities and travel to war zones. I didn’t want to be someone’s wife, and he wanted a picket fence and 2.5 kids. He told me when I was done adventuring, he intended to change my mind, but instead of him changing my mind, we just changed.

He grew resentful that my career aspirations came before his devotion and ended our young love affair abruptly. I nursed my broken heart and refocused on the goals; leaving our hometown and becoming a writer. When the dust settled, we restored our friendship, and he swore when I came home for Christmas, he’d win back my affection and change my mind. I did visit that Christmas, but we were both seeing someone else.

As time moves, so do priorities. Young love settles into friendship, and the days where you thought they were the one fade into the background. I got married out of necessity, and divorced to save my life. I raised my kids and went on my adventures, and he married a lovely person; getting the picket fence and family. Everyone got what they wanted, or so it seemed. Unfortunately, things don’t always work out the way you think they will.

Decades after our first date, we were both single again. However, we were both still stubborn. I wouldn’t leave the mountains, still wouldn’t be his wife. He insisted that he couldn’t leave his job, so I HAD to change my mind and move to his hometown, but I can’t uproot my family, not to mention I do not like when men tell me what to do. Soon enough, he called to tell me how he’d met someone else because he couldn’t wait for me to decide, and I faked the “I’m so happy for you,” while licking my wounds, burned by the fire of a flame almost rekindled. Through the ups and downs, and even a period where a jealous partner forbade us from speaking, the friendship always remained.

This time, he came to me, despite a fear of flying. Gone was the rigidity that had been there before. No longer was I expected to uproot my life. Now, I was free to remain in the mountains and we would balance our time. There were no conditions or expectations; he just loved me for me. No one had ever loved me for just me; not even he did the first time. I didn’t have to do anything or even reciprocate feelings; he just loves me. When someone loves you just as you are, without any conditions, it’s easy to decide what you want and how you feel. He works so hard to make me happy. He loves the kids and they view him as the father figure they’ve always wanted. He laughs at my jokes that aren’t funny and doesn’t get mad when I’m being irrational or annoying. He’s so damn good and the easiest person on Earth to love. How could you not want to marry someone like that? It took two decades but he finally changed my mind.

As for commitment, don’t worry, I’m still TERRIFIED. Fortunately my fiancé is a very patient man because most of our life together consists of me asking if he’s mad at me, if his family and friends like me, if he’s mad at me because what if his family and friends don’t like me, and panicking when we pick something for the wedding, reminding him that he doesn’t have to marry me. I’ve never known a life that is this easy. All of my previous relationships were chaotic or violent, sometimes both. I’ve spent all of my life scratching and clawing for everything I have, even if it seems insignificant to the rest of the planet. I struggle to rescind control and allow myself to work with a partner to build a life. He’s grown to be patient and open minded; I am still stubborn and determined to do everything on my own. I’m still annoying and the hardest person to love; I worry when he figures it out, he’ll be the one the change his mind. We absolutely cannot rule out that I will drive him bonkers while we blend a family and decide where we will live (eventually), and while we have talked about last names, I’ve been pretty open that I don’t want to change mine. But, if I don’t drive him completely insane, we are going to get married, and despite the geographical distance, for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like the ground is going to cave in from under me, and I can finally be happy and secure with a partner, who actually means it when they say they love me, even if wedding plans cause me to hyperventilate.

As for the ring spam, sorry folks, that’s not changing. Please accept my insincere apology.

The ring must be on display in every photo lol

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve

by maryhelenc, posted in Life, Relationships, Social Media

Happy December!

As is tradition, I’m posting my year in review. It’s been a transformative year. I travelled, I learned lessons, I enjoyed a new job; it was a struggle and a joy all at once. I bought my youngest daughter a prom dress. I learned that sometimes people who say you’re their best friend actually only want you around when it benefits them, and then you’ll get kicked to the curb as soon as you expect reciprocation for the support they’ve always gotten from you. I’ve learned that the best people can return to your life like no time has passed. I’ve learned that love is where you look for it, and rarely on Tinder haha. And I’ve learned that even the smallest person can overcome truly dark and debilitating things if they have people that love them. So take care of yourselves this holiday, and best wishes for 2024!

As is tradition, a Super Bowl cake explaining why Tom Brady sucks

Castles Crumbling

by maryhelenc, posted in Current Events, Life, MH vs Dating, Mommydom, Relationships, Seriously WTF?, Terrible choices I make, When Things Suck Hard, work life

Oh hey!

It’s been a minute, hasn’t it?

I would pretend I have some big reason or something exciting is happening in my life, but the truth is, I was just very depressed.

I’ll have some good days and feel like maybe I’m finally in a good place, but then something will happen and I’ll realize I’m not quite as healthy as I thought. It was actually a day at the gym. It was ideally the best kind of gym day. My fave team members were there. The best coaches were there. The workout had all of my favourite movements. But I left and sat in my car crying because I HATED CrossFit.

I couldn’t get past how I used to be good at this. But now I just felt like a fat blob trying to work out. I went back to running, and a guy on my street made a fat joke and told me to lose weight as I was running. Like, dude, I am literally jogging, I AM CLEARLY TRYING TO GET IN SHAPE. But again, I wasn’t good at it anymore. I just wanted to be good at my favourite things again. I didn’t write anything because I had no desire. I didn’t feel good at it. I didn’t feel good at anything I used to be good at. I was learning the ropes at a new job and I desperately wanted to be good at it. I wanted to feel like a good mom, but advocating to make sure your mentally ill teenager gets the treatment she needs is hard. You’re judged by doctors who have no way to help due to cutbacks. Any time I tried to tell people how depressed I was, I just got “okay,” or “I’m sorry.” Every time I would just repress some more, until it bubbled up again and rinse, repeat. I was falling apart and dead inside, but still expected to raise my kids and take care of my mom, keep my house clean, and also drop everything when a friend needed a shoulder.

Rock bottom came when I was sobbing on my floor because I hated myself. I was so miserable and I had to buy pants a size up. I was going on a trip, and I was terrified about flying. What if I didn’t fit in a plane seat? What if I was one of those people they make fun of in memes? Was this irrational? Yes. But my body dysmorphia was out of control. I had worked so hard to never feel like this again and yet here I was. I was embarrassed and broken. I had broken out in hives from eczema, triggered by stress. I reached out to a friend and was told I was dramatic. I remember sitting on my floor for over an hour, numb. I hated myself so much that I couldn’t even move from my floor, and the one person who I felt would understand how intense my body image issues had become completely dismissed me like a minor annoyance.

Before I continue, I want to acknowledge the people who do show up for me, because I’m so grateful to have them in my life. One of my best friends dropped everything to take my daughter to the hospital when I was stuck in Red Deer. My best friend from high school is one of the best listeners, even when I spend more time talking about my salad than my date. I have a lot of people who have been in the trenches with me while I struggle to get out of bed some days, and they deserve to be acknowledged.

Anywho, I was MAD. More mad than I have ever been in a long time. I saw RED. Every single thing that I had bottled up for months and months suddenly erupted. It was the last straw after months and months of little things where my feelings would be hurt and I’d push to the side. I felt used, like I was just a sounding board and not a person with feelings. I was ready to unload because here I was, genuinely upset and I just got spoken down to in a super condescending way. Instead, the rational part of my brain kicked in and I just ended the conversation.

I sat on my floor and cried until my 16yo daughter came in and asked me what was wrong. I gave her a high level “I don’t feel good about my pants,” and expected her to flit off to hang out with her friends. Instead, we had a good chat. Instead of sending a scorched Earth rage text, unloading all of the hurt feelings that I had been bottling up for months, I called my doctor for a referral to a dietician, to start antidepressants, and to request more blood work to see if the weight gain was hormonal. I called my therapist. I coldly looked in the mirror and reminded myself that I needed to stop being there for everyone else, and start being there for myself.

I also went on vacation. It was rad.

My life has been made better by Eras Tour

My therapist and I have been unraveling why I hate exercise. We also unraveled why I have been so angry. They explained that my friendships are rarely 50/50. They’re usually 80/20. Basically, I desperately want people to like me, so I let them walk all over me. But I also want to be given the same effort I put out there, and when it’s not reciprocated, I internalize it until I explode. I’m self aware enough to know that being a depressed loser on the brink of a nervous breakdown isn’t really a fun person to be around. But I also know when my friends are in the same situation, I’m there for them. But when it’s me, I generally feel even more isolated and alone because I don’t get that support. But then I just rationalize away until I can’t anymore, but I always feel like I’m doing something wrong by being angry. There’s a lot to work through, but it’s a start.

Also, we did a deep dive as to why I have struggled with exercise, my feelings of failure, and why I feel so down. I miss the feeling of accomplishment when I’d see myself improving, but I also get mad because four years ago I was posting my best running times and my strongest one rep max at the gym. Now I’m back at square one.

I feel like a lot of my life I’m starting all over again. I had to start all over again when I got divorced. I had to start all over again when my landlord sold my old house. I’ve had to start all over again at three different jobs since I quit the most toxic boss in history. Now, the one constant in my life (fitness), I’m starting from the bottom again. Fitness was the one place I felt like I was really good at something, and now I’m not even good at that, and it made me feel worse about myself. For the last three years everything has felt so out of control. I haven’t felt like I was good at anything. If I had been a better salesperson, maybe I wouldn’t have gone into debt trying to save my home. If I had been a better parent, maybe my teenager wouldn’t be mentally ill. If I had treated my body better, maybe I wouldn’t have nearly died. Fitness was all I had and now, I don’t even feel like I really have that.

So, now I’m trying to take control. I make it a point to fill my Apple Watch rings every day. I go for a walk every night. Small steps in the right direction. Once I feel ready, go back to the gym. Some days I literally have to force myself to get up and work out. But I remind myself that no one ever got healthier laying in a rut. But those days I have to literally drag myself out of bed with no motivation are still better than days I’m doing literally nothing.

I make sure to get out of my house and enjoy my life. I even went on a date; it was awful, and I am pretty sure I went out with Reddit, but I still went and put myself out there. I have one cheat meal a week. I take my anti depressants. I pet my cats and spend time with my kids. Most importantly, I clean my house. No matter how shitty I feel, I clean my house. That way, no matter what happens, I have one productive win because I cleaned my house. It’s not much, but it’s a decent start.

I genuinely don’t know if this is the time it’ll stick and I’ll finally get to a point where I don’t have to start over again from the beginning. Even if it’s not, I owe it to myself to keep trying to get healthier, even if it means starting all over again…again.

Shelter

by maryhelenc, posted in Fitnesslicious, Life, Mommydom, MusicIsLifeIsMusicIsLife, My New Life As Me, Social Media, work life

Oh, hello!

It’s been a hot minute, eh? Truthfully, I haven’t really talked much because there’s not much going on. Actually, that’s not true. There’s lots happening and I just haven’t really wanted to talk much. I haven’t felt like a writer for a long time. Maybe it’s time I did.

I started my new job and I love it y’all. I drive around and teach people about the joys of Google. I work with amazing people. My new boss is the best dude, and totally engaged with the development of his team. I won’t lie; the beginning was mostly winging it, but I think I’ve got it down. I’m making real money again, and I can afford stuff again. There’s something so satisfying knowing your bills are paid after months of scrambling. I’ve got a couple of debts to settle and I’ll be finally caught up. Last summer, this felt impossible, but here we are.

My nights and weekends are mine, which means I’m going to the gym again. Going back to CrossFit 60lbs heavier has been a challenge. I get so intimidated and I have to psych myself up to go, but we will get there. Hawaii will wait until next year because I want to take the fam on vacation and I can’t do both. Also, this journey will be tougher than I thought so I need to give myself time and space to get healthy. Because my time is mine, I have time for my kids, my friends, and even for ramen. I see people and we hang out. No more overtime shifts or unpaid conference calls. I have work/life balance. I clean my house at night. Things feel normal for the first time in forever.

It’s been a long three years, but I think I’m finally happy. It’s weird, but I’m almost afraid to say it, as if it’ll all get ruined if I do. The last three years have been about loss: financial stability, loss of the gym, loss of work/life balance, and even loss of self. But over the last few months, I’ve been able to get it back a bit. Even though it feels harder, the only way to get “me” back is to keep doing what I’m doing and power through the rough spots until I fit in my old pants and can do a burpee again.

There’s been so many positives: I’m down a pant size, the kids are calmer, my hair has even started growing back. (It’s much healthier because I can afford good shampoo again). I think I just had to take some time to grieve the life I thought I’d get to start finding the life I want.

I know it was just a job, but the loss of my old job was a blow. I worked with some of my best friends every day. I had a boss who believed in me. I started a corporate philanthropy program. It was something that meant the world to me and I built it on my own from the ground up. Maybe it’s stupid, but for the first time in my entire life, I felt like I was doing something that helped people, and the people who’s opinions I valued finally respected me. I wasn’t just a vapid weirdo who spent her life trying to prove she deserved a place in a dying field: I was making some kind of difference. For once, I wasn’t the dumb dumb who just wrote stupid stuff no one cares about, and really likes her blind spot indicators. I had a job I was good at while promoting my passion projects with my friends. Then, it was gone. I had to crawl back to an industry I outgrew years ago and start over from the ground up. My idea was just gone. My friends I saw every day became text once a month friends. My best friends became so far away because I had no time for them. I worked sixty hours to try and figure out which bill I could pay. My family was falling apart. My freelance career was dead. I just felt like I was back to being the talkative dumb dumb people laugh at, not with. I took this feeling with me every day, everywhere I went. I threw a party and no one showed (except my best friend, who’s just the best kind of human). I watched my laundry pile up and my clothes get tighter and I just didn’t care anymore.

Once I started my job, things changed. It was because I suddenly had time. That time allowed me to realize that I had to let parts of my life go. I had to accept that no matter how much you wanted it to work out, sometimes it doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean it’s over; it just means you try again. I had to forgive myself for a lot of stuff. For giving up on my dreams to sell phones. For giving up on all the stuff I enjoyed. Even the irrational shit, like I couldn’t single handedly find ways to fix society or some dumb shit. Most of all, I had to forgive myself for giving up on me and just accepting I was stupid and unworthy.

I did a lot of soul searching to figure out what I wanted and how to make it happen. I wanted to be the active person I was, so I push myself even when I don’t want to. My program may be in the idea graveyard, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help people! Currently I’m trying to raise $1000 for Stollery Children’s Hospital. Sure, it’s not as easy when I don’t have corporate backing me, and I can’t nag, but I’m sure by May 1, I’ll have hit my goal (if you want to donate, please click here. I would be ever so grateful). I don’t get to hang out with my friends every day, but my job is very people-y. My reps actually like when I come. My current boss thinks I’m smart. My kids respect me. I live in a beautiful home. For the first time in a long time, I feel in control of my life.

Also, I’m almost blonde again. We all know only blonde MHC is successful

Maybe I won’t be the journalist I wanted to be. Maybe I won’t be able to get back into athletic form. Maybe I’ll never meet anyone and die alone with my cats. Maybe I’ll never be anything but the dumb dumb no one respects because I talk too much and people mostly tune out because I’m just too much. But, for the first time in my life, I’m okay with that. I can still be happy even if I’m just a weird crazy person, or the butt of every joke until I die. Maybe I just needed to be myself, even if I’m the only one who likes me. I used to go through my life wanting people to be proud of me; my kids, my friends, my mother. But I never thought about being proud of myself. I realized even if I never accomplished anything I wanted to, I have managed to pull myself out of every dark place, rut, or hamster wheel I’ve ever found myself on, and that’s enough.