Tag: positivity

New Lows

by maryhelenc, posted in Current Events, Dorkdom, Douchers, Life, MH vs Dating, Mommydom, Seriously WTF?, Social Media

The last few months have been such a whirlwind, and it’s felt like it just never stops.

Nothing is as it was three months ago. My job is different, my address, my home, my car, etc. Nothing is the same. But every time I think I can finally adjust, something new gets thrown into the mix. Something like my cat going missing.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m absolutely obsessed with my cats. I love my cats more than I love most people. If you are reading this, there is a non zero percent chance that I love my cats more than I love you. Truthfully, unless you are one of my kids, my stepkids, my best friend, or my fiancé, there is 100% chance I love my cats more than I love you. So when Tacocat was lost, I LOST MY MIND. I cried every day. I pleaded with neighbours on every Facebook group, and searched every second. My sweet angel fiancé offered a massive cash reward for the safe return of my beloved Tacocat. Even my father in law, who’s not a cat person, helped me look for my beloved Tacocat…and then the little shit just came home like nothing happened! I have never been happier to see anything in my life! My teenager suggested we put AirTags on the cats, and we actually did. So now I know where they are at all times and I feel so much better.

After what seemed like the zillionth crisis in the last three months, I sat on the big comfy couch in my living room watching the rain through the big windows in my living room. I was just enjoying the elements and I finally got to appreciate that I was sitting in MY house, in MY living room, on MY couch. One thing I’ve struggled with is accepting that this is my home. This was my fiancé’s house long before I moved in, and I struggle with imposter syndrome. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life; like when a show recasts the lead with someone else. Sure you accept that recast, but there’s always that part of you that longs for the OG.

One of my struggles to adjust was the idea that I’m a never ending guest in my life. I would get inside my own head and wonder if I deserve this, or did I steal it from someone else? I’m just a weird person who talks a lot, is kind of annoying, and talks to her beloved cats like they’re people. How did I end up in a lake house with a really neat car (with profiles like an Xbox), a blended family, and a man who worships me and makes me feel safe and loved in everything that he does. But there’s a part of me that struggles to get comfortable, wondering if there’s actually supposed to be some other woman laying in my bed watching Drink Masters and enjoying the night air. Should some other women be wearing my ring and driving my car? Am I a stunt double in my own life?

Just in case you forgot how amazing the ring is lmao

It’s really hard to address those feelings when it feels like if it’s not one thing, it’s another fucking thing. It’s my car being delayed, or scrambling to find a job, or my cat being lost. You’re always trying to put out the fire, and you don’t get to navigate your own emotions. That’s been where I’ve been at. I’m not really sure how I feel because I’m not really getting a chance to live, just sort of exist.

But now things are settling down. Tacocat is back and received a clean bill of health from her vet. The kids are going back to school, and I was offered a promotion at my new job. My wedding is under 50 days away, I’m registering at a new gym, and my fiancé and I are finally getting some much needed alone time next week. Life is quieter and it allows me to appreciate that I have the life I have prayed for since I was 19. Three years ago I was so depressed I could barely breathe, and now I have almost everything I could ever ask for. It’s so strange how everything feels hopeless and then one day everything is magical. Maybe one day I’ll actually be able to embrace it and not wonder when the ground will be ripped out from under me.

Thoughts? Feedback? Just want to share ideas or chat? Send me an email or contact me on social media!

This Personified

by maryhelenc, posted in Life, MH vs Dating, Mommydom, Relationships

Let me tell you the story of how I finally got over my fear of commitment; or as I like to call it “How I learned to let go and learned to love the bomb.”

I grew up watching a woman lay down and die when her husband died. It shaped my entire identity from an early age. Abuse, starvation, constant moving, roach infested homes until I ended up in foster care. It shaped me to to think the only person in life I could truly count on was myself. The idea of a partnership scared me. I was determined to make sure I was in control of my destiny and I would never allow myself to become a simpering baby trapped by a man.

I had never been taught what a normal and healthy relationship looked like until I was 14, when I had wonderful foster parents who loved each other. But my foster mom was a stay at home mom. I love that she found something that made her happy, but it was terrifying to me. It reminded me of how easily things could go wrong if someone died. That fear of widowhood kept me frozen. The fear of not being in control, losing myself in someone and then being left alone. A young girl with very few healthy examples of a love that worked where both people are happy (not even on TV. Dawson’s Creek I am looking in your direction) had no idea how to navigate any kind of feelings, let alone that of a young man madly in love.

I’ve mentioned before, but my beloved fiancé asked me to be his wife when I was 19. A literal baby.

Actually, it was more like told me he was going to marry me. My response was what you would come to expect from me; I laughed. I told him about my goals and he swore he’d change my mind. Instead we broke up and I spent an entire weekend sobbing in my bed wondering where it all went wrong. I let those doubts creep into my mind every day as I grieved my first serious heartbreak. In the weeks that followed, we became friends and I threw myself headfirst into a relationship with a charismatic narcissist. I accepted the love I thought I deserved. I endured years of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. When I finally escaped, I married someone out of guilt and obligation. I was blessed with my kids, but how many times did I imagine just running with them into the night and never looking back so I could be free of the abuse and sadness and just take care of everyone on my own? The cycle of abuse returned and I was thrown into walls, pinned down and spit on. I was called names, had my darkest fears thrown in my face, and when I escaped again; I was tired. I entered on and off relationships, dates casually until finally I decided I loved myself enough to love only my kids and protect my heart from breaking.

What did this literal baby know about anything? She didn’t.

I didn’t know what romantic love should feel like. I didn’t know what it looked like. I didn’t know how to love myself. I only knew how to write and love my kids. I knew how not to be a mom from bad examples; my own mother. Never would I be like her. I knew how to learn to love myself. But I didn’t know what love looked like or how it should feel even though it kept slapping me in the face.

Throughout all of it, my ex boyfriend/best friend loved me and I refused to see it. I was afraid to see it. But he was steadfast in his love for me. He didn’t get mad that I married someone else after saying no to him. He met a wonderful woman and got married himself. While we were married to other people, he was my dearest friend. We spoke every day. He gave me advice. He told me to protect my beautiful heart from men who would break it (something he still regretted). We sent the other’s kids’ gifts. We were in each other’s corners. We were always there for each other any way we needed to be. Through divorces and recovery and mental health challenges. Even when I moved across the country, we were always there for each other. I didn’t realize that love was as simple as a person who showed up.

In the years that followed, I learned that love was about persistence. Love was the same boy, now a man, whose marriage had fallen apart, as he and his wonderful ex wife grew into different, but still incredible people.

That man once again asked me to be his wife. There was no laughing this time. There was fear. Fear of moving to a small town. Fear of the unknown. Fear of failure. Fear of losing my dearest friend. This time there was no laughter; there was only no. But I learned that love continues to show up. It was love that took him to work a 12 step program and embrace recovery; love for me and his family. It was love that gave me the ring made from a long ago promise to hold until he got on one knee and I stopped saying no (until it got stolen). It was designed after the one he said he would get me as an engagement ring when we were kids. He said it would be a placeholder until I was ready to say yes.

It was the absence of love for himself that kept him in a situation where he placated an abuser (whom was always meant to be a short term fling to get back on the saddle post divorce. For two years, when I’d ask if he was happy, he’d tell me no; he didn’t love her. Couldn’t stand her. His heart was mine alone. But if he tried to leave her she would turn violent and he was afraid she would harm his family). For two years he reminded me almost daily that when he was finally in a position to get out and away from her safely, he’d fly here and get down on one knee and this time, I wouldn’t say no. The abuse got so out of hand, he couldn’t speak to me for a year, and yet I somehow knew he wasn’t gone from my life forever.

But it wasn’t his love for me that helped him finally free himself from that abuse; it was the love for his family and a desire to be a good son and father. It was love for himself that took him to therapy. Love for me was what made him humble himself to call and apologize for disappearing, even though it wasn’t on him.

It was love who accepted a third no when I told him I was incapable of being with anyone; I was too damaged and too set in my ways. The truth is that I didn’t know what it meant to love someone other than my children. I just assumed I didn’t deserve love. But he was showing me what love was; commitment, communication, working to be better for someone other than yourself. It was persistence and patience and bravery. It was love that made him keep his word, overcome his fear of flying and love brought him here. Love was the reason he promised we could divide our time and I could remain in the mountains, because a week every other month was still better than any other woman on Earth. Love was enough; I was enough. I finally understood what it should feel like to be loved by someone. That’s why when he asked for a fourth time there was no laughing or running. I jumped and down and clapped. There was only yes.

I truly don’t think there’s been enough ring spam on this page lol

I was afraid of commitment, because I was never committing to him. It wasn’t the act I feared; it was to whom. I didn’t know what it meant to be loved by someone, but I sure as shit knew what it didn’t feel like. I knew what it didn’t look like. I knew it wasn’t in my marriage or anywhere else so I finally stopped looking. I found it in a pair of hazel eyes that stare so deeply into my own that I feel like we are one person. I hated myself so much that I couldn’t see how much he loved me. I didn’t see how seamlessly he’d stepped into the role of stepparent; so much so that my youngest two refer to him as their dad. I was trying so hard not to be helpless like my mom that I didn’t see that someone could love you and let you be free to do your own thing. I get to be myself in my most authentic form while also loved by a man who has made it as clear as day that I am his only choice. It was never about the act of getting married; it was that I was meant to build a life with him, and by doing that, I’m not afraid anymore.

Thoughts? Feedback? Just want to share ideas or chat? Send me an email or contact me on social media!

When I Get There

by maryhelenc, posted in Crazy Talk, Fitnesslicious, Life, MH vs Dating, Mommydom, My New Life As Me

I spent a lot of my life running away from myself.

I spent a long time pretending I just wanted to explore any opportunities that came my way, but the reality is that I just wanted to put space between and all of my trauma and mistakes so I could commit to being the best version of myself for my kids. Other people craved being extraordinary; I just wanted to be normal. All those things people took for granted; parents, a home, healthy interpersonal relationships, mundane lives; I would look at them with envious eyes desperate for them.

I didn’t want to face down all of the things that made me feel broken so I had a plan; just keep on moving. Eventually I’d reach a point where no one really knew who I was and I could be anyone! I didn’t have to be the broken toy with PTSD. I could be something better. So I did that. I pretended the years 19-21 didn’t exist. I moved as far away as I could. I changed my hair and my hobbies and music tastes and became someone I felt could be seen as normal. It’ll totally work, right?

I mean, it did for a bit. I was a completely different person.

I also lost every bit of my strength and character and became a whiny little bitch.

I didn’t like who I was so I decided that no one ever could and kept putting space between myself and the carefully curated version of me that I felt was okay. I stopped listening to fave songs because they reminded me of things I either didn’t want to remember because they were traumatic, or because they were happy times I ached to relive. I spent the last 14 years since my divorce trying to be someone worthy of love and friendship, someone that would be seen as a whole human and not just a fractured person with trust issues and anxiety. So I kept framing and rearranging until I could be someone that I thought I could love. Instead of wanting to be happy, I wanted people to like me. I became a people pleaser and constantly romanticized people who treated me like absolute crap.

But part of marrying your high school sweetheart is that there’s no running from the old you. You’re kind of stuck visiting your hometown and being confronted with all of the memories you long to escape. But there’s also something about healing your past traumas that allows you the space and the grace to accept the love you actually deserve and realize how unhealthy the things you allowed were. For the first time in my life I am loved for exactly who I am, both by myself and by someone else. I don’t feel like I have to pretend to be someone that’s digestible to be happy. Every once in a while I find this part of me and I live my best life, but then something happens and I go back to people pleasing. Maybe I get lonely. Maybe I worry people won’t like me if I just act like my loud, ridiculous, anxious little self. Then I find a new city, and try again to be what people want me to be so people will like me. Soon enough I’m a robot going through the motions until I feel like I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

But this time feels different. Maybe it’s because choosing self love attracted the type of love I’ve always wanted from a companion. My partner loves me for me. He’s seen the best and worst of me and all of my many personas and side quests and he still just loves me. He doesn’t just love me; he respects me, he protects my feelings, he supports me. He compliments me and shows up in a million little ways. There’s something so heartwarming about knowing someone sees you for who you are and still thinks you’re swell. So whenever It makes you evaluate how others treat you, including yourself.

I have talked about my falling out with my former best friend, but I romanticized the Hell out of that relationship. I looked at the good times and not all of the times she mocked my weight (great look from a personal trainer), or told me how I was a good small dose friend, or only called me to vent about how her husband was possibly cheating on her. I even reached out to own my part in why things went south and was met with the same old deflection and zero accountability. I realized how much I’d allowed that over the years. How I’d spent so long feeling like the person I kept running from was somehow unworthy of love or friendship. As I read through her email where she twisted the narrative about how she ghosted me and didn’t do anything wrong ever (even though I’m the one ceased communication, unfollowed and blocked her on social media). Two years ago I would have grovelled and begged for another chance and I would make myself even smaller to please them and feel worthy of a friend, but this time I felt nothing. Not even worth dignifying with a response. I don’t need to settle for friendships where my only purpose is to be a sounding board and a punching bag, and they are nowhere to be found when I need them. I reached out because I was nostalgic for the person I knew and wanted to be friends with that person, but that person doesn’t really exist and deep down I knew it. I don’t wish them ill will; I also don’t want to be friends with them. The response helped me realize that I am finally in a place of healing where I no longer have to beg people to let me take care of them. Now I ask to be an equal in all of my relationships. I’m not ashamed of my upbringing or the trauma of my early adulthood anymore. Maybe now I can finally love the girl I was so I can embrace the woman I am and finally focus only on relationships that honour me, instead of begging for scraps of friendship from people who make me feel like less than.

Thoughts? Feedback? Just want to share ideas or chat? Send me an email or contact me on social media!

Personal Best

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

Hey everyone!

I know it’s been a hot minute, but 2025 started off busy af. First my dishwasher decided it was time to die on the battlefield, work has been ramping up, and then everyone in my house got the flu. It’s been rad. But with everything comes a silver lining. New dishwasher, everyone has recovered, and work is still busy, but I adore my job so it’s okay.

I’ve also been busy planning my wedding. When you live halfway across the country from your partner, planning a wedding can be annoying. Let’s be honest; planning a wedding is always annoying. Fortunately, we are pretty laid back and details aren’t as important to us as they are to others. We are just content to celebrate with our friends and family, and continue our wonderfully weird bi-coastal little life. While everyone else worries about dress codes and whatever, we are just happy. But the number one question we get asked is:

“Who is moving where? Surely you’ll want to live together!”

Allow me to answer your question!

Everything is staying exactly the way it is for the foreseeable future.

I know this sounds very confusing, but the reasons are simple. We both have children. They are in school. My younger daughter is in university. My son just started high school. It would be unfair to uproot their lives and risk their educations because their parents finally figured out what everyone knew years ago. Different provinces have different academic standards and I would hate for my son to graduate later than his peers because we uprooted him. My daughter is pursuing her degree and preparing to train for her dream job. I refuse to do anything that will jeopardize that. I have spent years working to provide my kids with stability and we finally have it. We rent a magical home in a good neighbourhood. We have lived there for years. We have a great relationship with our community, and my son attends a great school nearby. My fiancé has a career with a pension and a healthy co-parenting dynamic. Everyone is happy, especially our children.

The other reason is also really simple; I know my limitations as a human being. Your girl has struggled for years with the idea of being tied down or not being in control of my own future. I spent years in a suffocating marriage where I made very few decisions. When we broke up, I had no idea how to navigate life on my own, as I had been trapped in some kind of abusive relationship since I was 19. I had my oldest child when I was very young; I didn’t even know myself, let alone how to be an adult. I learned trial by fire and I’m finally in a place where I feel like I’m in control of my life. I have always been afraid of marriage, and it’s taken me years of therapy to get to a place where the idea doesn’t fill me with existential dread; with the loss of freedom and autonomy. My poor fiancé has tried to convince me that we should get married so many times over the years and every time I would bolt and move further away (the last time I was already here lol). I was afraid of my own feelings, of the future, and of the idea that I’d be sacrificing for a man. Everyone who knows me personally laughs at the time I tried to run away from my first wedding, but at the same time GUYS I ACTUALLY TRIED TO RUN AWAY FROM MY WEDDING. I wasn’t ready, it wasn’t right, and I couldn’t breathe. I tried to run from a vow renewal that led to a divorce ten months later. I’m really not good at weddings y’all)

(Before you start a betting pool, I assure you I will not be running away from this wedding. Mostly because this was not a choice entered into lightly and I adore the person I’m marrying. Also because it’s like, five hours from home and leaving everyone stranded is hecking rude)

Fortunately, my fiancé is a man who has watched me slowly rebuild my life after getting out of a violent marriage, ugly divorce, and many first dates that made me want another cat. He’s always understood my intense fear of another failed marriage or loss of self and wants me to be happy. He loves me enough to understand that allowing me the grace and space to navigate our future while giving our respective kids the stability they deserve to reach their academic goals is what’s best for our family unit.

When this conversation comes up with literally everyone, I struggle not to get defensive, as everyone assumes I’m just packing up my life as if I don’t have one. I love my fiancé, but I also love my job, my friends, my house, and the winters aren’t so bad once you get used to it. Also, it’s MINE. I built that shit from the ground up all by myself and I’m damn proud of my little niche in the universe. While I am well aware that I can’t have my cake and eat it too forever, I am eternally grateful that I have it right now. When the kids are done school, we will revisit the “where will we live” conversation. I think we are actually the least concerned, because we know that it’ll all work out when both of us are ready, and not because someone feels like they have to shake things up. It works because we have a twenty five year foundation and understand what each of us needs to be happy. Someday we will decide where to live, but for now, it’s just noise and we prefer to be peaceful ostriches in the sand.

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

Anti-Curse

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

The worst part of being a woman is that no one listens to you.

For those of you who are new to my life (but for real, I’m not that cool), three years ago I went to the doctor for a health issue. I was always tired, I gained a ton of weight despite no dietary changes, my hair was falling out. My doctor completed a biopsy, decided that even though there were irregularities, I actually had PCOS; I did not. She misdiagnosed me and prescribed medication that triggered a pulmonary embolism that almost killed me.

(In addition to being the most insane night of my life, some random person stole my necklace with a ring I wore every single day, which was a gift from my most favourite human that I didn’t give birth to. I stil get upset when I think about it. If you are the person who stole it, fuck you)

My life expectancy and quality of life has been irrevocably damaged as a result of this mistake, all which could have been avoided if SOMEONE GOD DAMN LISTENED TO ME. But the problem didn’t go away. I have to get blood work before I travel, be mindful of medications, and make sure I’m doing my part to prevent this from happening again.

Fast forward to modern day. I’ve switched doctors twice. I’ve switched OB/GYN’s twice. I’ve seen a dietician because I need to lose weight, but also NO SHIT SHARON THAT IS PRECISELY THE REASON I COME TO THE DOCTOR. I GAINED A FUCK TON OF WEIGHT FOR NO DAMN REASON. I’ve had enough blood drawn for the same seven tests that I could feed a whole ass Cullen family. But the only answer I get is “have you considered losing weight?” Like, no. I love having a deflated self esteem and shudder when people ask me to take pics of them. It’s great for me. I am having the best time, I swear.

I had all but given up and accepted that things were just gonna be like this forever, when I saw an IG post that changed the game. Former WWE Divas Champion Maryse Mizanin talked about how she saw doctor after doctor but no one listened to her about similar symptoms until finally, an OB/GYN listened and found multiple tumours that were pre-cancerous. Persistence saved her life. But it also showed me that even women who were wealthy, had resources, would be ignored.

Reading her story made me realize I shouldn’t just accept “it’s your anxiety,” or “why aren’t you losing weight.” Finally, after many moons of asking and finally screaming, my doctor ordered an ultrasound to see if something had changed since the one my old doctor said was “mostly fine.” Well, now it’s not fine. There are multiple cysts, possible polyps, and this means a second biopsy next week, followed by an endometrial ablation, and possibly a hysterectomy. If you think one horrifically invasive procedure is gross, why not THREE?! So fun right?!

Naturally, the first thing I did…was cry. After all, if something is seriously wrong, who’s gonna run my house?! Who will take care of my cats?! Two of my kids are underage. Is their sister ready to be a guardian? Their dad isn’t involved at all, so he’s not really a factor. My mom needs constant care. Who’s gonna do that? There’s the miserable feeling when you remember you get to drive yourself to the horribly invasive procedure and then drive yourself home, because your partner lives many time zones away and this means you’re on your own kid. Fortunately, I’ll also buy myself ice cream for being brave. I can’t exactly take time off from my job, despite my boss being the best and making sure that I prioritize my health. But I have one income to support many people. I can’t afford time off. Sometimes I stare at my ceiling in my room and comment to myself that I simply do not have time for this, and how dare my body inconvenience me in this way. Mostly I am just angry and scared. Maybe if someone had listened to me before, this would all be behind me. Instead, I almost died (but don’t worry, my OB/GYN says the first pulmonary embolism won’t kill you, so that’s…good? I guess?), lost my most prized possession, haven’t seen any real improvements, and now have to go through a ton of gross procedures while also trying to get my mom to do basic hygiene, plan my oldest’s birthday, attend two graduations, and I need the Oilers to win this series because Doughnut Party and Stanley Cup.

All hail Connor McDoughnut

Also, I can’t be the only one who has a very real fear of waking up during the procedure because the anaesthesia didn’t work, am I? because this is a very real concern for me, and maybe a step or two below geese on the terror scale.

I don’t have time for this. But mostly, it just sucks that almost every woman on Earth has a story just like this, where a doctor didn’t listen to them, and things ended up a mess. However, like all things, there’s always some kind of silver lining. I have some days in lieu I can use for the day I go in for my biopsy. I have a wonderful eldest child who offered to come with me (I still have to drive and buy my own ice cream lol). I have an incredible partner who is so supportive and loving while I have a manic episode and then contemplate my own mortality. My younger kids have been helping me keep up the housework. My friends care about me. Also, thanks to Weight Watchers I’m down 35lbs. My people always show up for me, even if the medical profession lets me down.

I also learned a valuable lesson, which is to keep advocating even if it seems no one is listening. I need to take some accountability too. I felt unheard so I gave up. Maybe if I had just kept on it the way I should’ve done all along. Maybe then I’d have answers sooner instead of thirty more blood tests. It’s a shame that almost every woman has felt ignored by a doctor, and I’m so grateful that more women are talking about it. Maybe eventually we will reach a point where our concerns are taken seriously the first time and not just “maybe not even never.”

The Manuscript

by maryhelenc, posted in Life, MH vs Dating, Mommydom, Relationships, Terrible choices I make

It’s funny how things fall into place when they’re supposed to.

After years of randomly uprooting my life, I’ve finally seemed to find my home. With home comes stability for my family. With stability comes my job. For those of you who aren’t aware of how much I love my job, well trust, I love my damn job. GUYS THEY PAY ME TO TALK ALL DAMN DAY! AND I GET COOL SWEATERS!

Marvel at all of my hair

In all seriousness, my job gives me an incredible sense of fulfillment. I love teaching people and helping them grow their skills. It’s so exciting to me, and I think I’ve found something that I’m truly good at. Nothing brings me more joy than when I get to prattle on and on about what I do for a living. My job isn’t even a job. It’s fun! I genuinely love going to work every second of my life. But with stability and purpose comes fulfillment. I don’t say peace, because my life is generally chaotic as I raise kids and take care of my elderly mother, so nothing is really easy. But there is a sense of serenity that comes from knowing you’re on the right track.

I’ve never been on the right track before. I always jumped the tracks before I really knew. I left cities, relationships, jobs, etc. But abandoning the nomad life for a house in the suburbs has helped me find myself a bit more. I talk to my neighbours. I go running again. I feel at peace in my life. I’ve even lost 30 lbs. Having peace with my home and my job made it easier to consider sticking a toe back into dating.

As y’all know, I gave up on dating late last year when I went on a date with the human equivalent of Reddit. The only positives were that my salad was really good, and I looked fantastic.

See?

I deleted my dating apps shortly after and gave up. I took a long look at my life and realized that maybe I’m not cut out for relationships. I’m pretty set in my ways, I’m commitment phobic, I run away from my problems and I will always put my kids, cats, and job first. I’m also neurotic af and will always worry that some poor dude is mad at me or will leave. Also, my taste in men is BAD. GUYS IT IS SO BAD. I dated my own stalker…TWICE! If you’ve met my ex husband, you’d realize the stalker was an upgrade. My love life is littered with Mr. Wrong, Mr. Abuser, and Mr. Stalker; no thanks man. It seemed like I was destined to die alone with my cats, and I was actually pretty good with that.

Friendly reminder that my cats are often sick of my shit

Before I decided “down with love,” I always used to joke that someday I’ll write a book about my love life called “what in the fuck is even happening?” I’d change some names so my ex husband doesn’t try to claim royalties, and I could cast Billie Eilish to play high school me in the movie. The only problem was that the book had no ending. After I deleted all of the apps, my kids (who decided I needed to get back out there) asked about my idea, and I told them I’d need some kind of ending, but “and she lived with her cats,” didn’t feel like the feel good ending of the year. A story of one woman’s constant need to pick the worst possible outcome should have one ending where she got it right, n’est pas?

But like I said, things have a funny way of working out in just the right time, and in just the right way. Around the same time as I had deleted the cesspool known as tinder, I was also feeling my oats at work and in life. For the first time in a long time, I felt like my family was in a good place, I was mostly financially stable, and I regularly got ramen with my best friend. Now that I’m removed from a situation, I realize that maybe some people were dragging me down, as they only wanted to talk to me when they wanted to vent about their own misery. I was a fine sounding board when they thought their husband was cheating or that they didn’t look good in shorts, but never for a night out or laughs. As the black cloud of devastation faded, I realized that I was well rested and happier and much more confident than I had been in years.

That particular day, we were launching some new products at work and I was pretty pleased with my training methods. The teams seemed really excited and I felt like I was really good at this. I was actually just finishing up a really great event when my phone rang. I rarely check my personal phone at work, but I was done my work day and wondered if it was one of my kids. It was not. It was one of my best friends/former high school boyfriend, whom I hadn’t spoken to in a year, save for one rushed conversation two days after my birthday. The conversation picked up like it always did, and two hours later it was like no time had passed. Before long, two hour chats were happening every day. Six months later, I was meeting him at the airport. By the time we went back to the airport for him to resume the Homer Simpson life, the conversation had changed. The “love ya” had changed to “I love you,” and carried more weight. The looks lasted longer. Things weren’t the same anymore and there was no going back. There was also no leaving my house and job. What’s a gal to do, besides figure it out as one goes.

Maybe the reason that the tale known as “what the fuck is even happening here?” Didn’t have an ending is because I didn’t know where to look. It wasn’t on Tinder, or in my marriage, or dating my own stalker (twice). It wasn’t on my own as the cat lady, although I’m never ruling that one out. The reason I couldn’t find the happy ending was because it was all the way back at the very beginning of the story. It was nestled in the nostalgia of young love and senior prom, where romance turned to friendship. It was trapped in the past behind near misses and stolen moments and finally when we told each other, “I met someone,” and the response was overwhelming happiness for the other. But what is meant for you will always be yours and after two divorces, a crap ton of therapy (for both of us), and a few years of space, it seemed like the answer was clear.

Continued reminder that my cats are so done with my shit

Of course, I still made sure to make the most complicated decision. Neither of us can leave our jobs and my family and I have a life in the mountains. Also, I’m obsessed with my house. For the first time ever, a relationship of mine is hampered by my boundary to not move anywhere. Any mention of a long term future results in my asking “why” 37 times in a row. I still sometimes wonder if he’s lost his mind and realizes he could do better than a neurotic workaholic that cries a lot (but is so productive). But, for the first time ever, I don’t wonder when the shoe is gonna drop, or measure every move to protect my heart and ego. Maybe it’s because I have my own life and my person; as well as the space to navigate all of the fears and insecurities that one had when they’ve only been in one healthy relationship in their entire life. Either way, for the first time in forever, I feel very fulfilled in every aspect of my life; personally, professionally, as a parent, and as a person. Everything happens for a reason, and my reasons seem to have fallen into place, even if I don’t really understand how it all worked out perfectly without my even trying.

Private Eye

by maryhelenc, posted in Crazy Talk, Life, MusicIsLifeIsMusicIsLife, My New Life As Me, Seriously WTF?, Social Media, When Things Suck Hard

My favourite game to play online is “read my old Facebook memories and remember how cringy I used to be.”

I’ve always been a pretty ridiculous person, I always remind people that the more trauma you’ve been through, the funnier you get to be, so naturally, I am the most hilarious person on this planet (I have references). But I also don’t really shy away from cringy or stupid, and I’m always so amused by how much dumb shit I used to post online. Over the years I’ve realized how important it is to be fiercely protective of yourself and your life, which is why my social media feed is mainly just memes and my cats. When you give too much of yourself, you open up yourself for people to take parts of you. That’s something I’ve learned is a non negotiable.

(Although I also learned that I was ahead of the COVID curve by about four years)

This also helped me learn that I’ve lived in Edmonton for NINE YEARS. Guys. I stayed in one place for nine years! Through the stalker ex boyfriends that showed up at my hotel, job changes, life changes, friendships, and 300 bad dates, I am still here. Who saw this coming?I wonder if it’s because I truly love my home city, or simply because I’ve run out of places to run. Vancouver is pretty expensive, and after that it’s the ocean. I’d run east but I’m allergic to fish so what do I eat in the Maritimes? I always vowed never to backtrack, so maybe I’ve reached the limits of how far I can run.

Those who know me well know that when it comes to fight, flight, or freeze, I only have one response; run. Name your scenario and I assure you I have run from it. Job losses, breakups, mild inconveniences, a fierce desire to escape my hometown and never return, there is no situation where I can’t look at it and go “yup, I’m out of here,” and run like Hell. I have run from every relationship I’ve ever had, save for the one I should have sprinted away from like Usain Bolt. I once fled a party in the middle of the night thanks to a conversation that consisted of only two words. Hell, I tried to run away from my own wedding, and only said “I do” because of the rain. You name it, I’ve probably bolted out the door as far away from it as humanly possible. Men who could have been good for me (or terribly bad for me) have been left in the dust as I pleaded with my mind to invent a reason why it could never work and run into the night. I’ve never stayed in one place for more than three years because there’s always something I need; to write, to escape, to create space. No where was off limits except for my hometown; I used to wish on stars that I’d leave and never look back. Some people look at their hometown as a fun nostalgic place. For me it’s a source of trauma that slowly chipped away at the bright eyed little girl I was, leaving the woman that I am. While I take solace that the trauma has made me HILARIOUS, the more space I can put between me and that town of evil, the better.

(Somewhere, a cousin or a friend is gonna read this and tell me it’s not that bad, but I assure you, you will never convince me. I can be stubborn, and I will never back down on this point)

But I’m still here. Sure the house isn’t the same, as it took me a couple of tries to find the right one, but my house provides me with a sense of stability I’ve never really had outside of living in my foster home. There are no spectres of tenants past haunting the walls or my mailbox. Gone are the days of wondering who the person behind the mis-delivered credit card bills is; this is my home. My daughter intends to start university here in the fall and I am so fiercely proud of that young woman. My job is the most fun I’ve ever had in the workforce. It combines my favourite things; playing with new tech, and talking your ear off until you will hear my voice in your sleep. My friends are here. Even though my best friend out here is a Markham export, I couldn’t navigate life without her and her insanity. She’s the best human being alive (she will tell you she is evil), and my life is made better because she’s my friend and we have ramen. But every friend I’ve made out here has been the best person, and while I miss my friends back home (I haven’t seen anyone in SIX YEARS), I wouldn’t want to do life without the weirdos out here I call my friends.

Look at this ramen

As part of my never ending quest to be the best type of person I can be, I’ve allowed my therapist to really help me dive in to the why factor. Why is it that I always need to leave? Part of it was to escape a childhood that left me abused and damaged that I was terrified I wouldn’t be a good person. Most of my formative years were spent fleeing from situations; evictions, poverty, cycles of abuse. The only stability I ever had was in a foster home and that was only six years. I don’t think I ever knew what stability was and I decided it had an expiration date on it. The only time I ever doubled down was on my marriage, where I was determined to make it work, even though everyone and their dog knew it was wrong, including me. Between the feelings like I owed him and the guilt that stemmed from trying to race out of there, I resigned myself to staying, no matter how poorly I was treated or how many bruises I ended up with. I always joke that I’ve been engaged twice and married once, and never has it been my decision. If you ever run into him, he will tell you how I’m a life ruining succubus that destroyed his potential, but every story needs a villain, maybe I’m his. The only thing of permanence in my life was my role as a mother to my children. Homes, cities, relationships are all expendable except for them, and they come with me.

So why am I still here? What is it about Edmonton that keeps me here? Is it the space that allows me to live in a big city without feeling suffocated? Is it my friends? The close proximity to mountains? Did I finally exorcise my demons and leave them with the leeches in Lake Huron, never to haunt me again. Maybe it was the desire to give my kids stability. Maybe I secretly love the cold. Truthfully, I couldn’t tell you, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I have a real home and no desire to check indeed and pack up again. The feeling of “home” that I’ve chased since I was a child seems to be here, or I’ve deluded myself, but either way, it’s magical. Every time someone visits me I show them around like a proud parent at the art fair. I even like the Oilers. Maybe it’s because I started dedicating myself to giving back to this community that has brought me the peace and belonging I’ve craved since I was five years old that I finally can stop moving (unless I switch houses again, but I doubt it. I’ll die here).

My therapist thinks that perhaps my desire to stay in Edmonton and build a less nomadic life for my family is a sign of growth, and I can finally stop running away from my emotions. I can assure him that’s probably not the case, as one time someone got all let’s talk about our feelings and I almost crashed my car into a Volvo. But it’s nice to see that I’m capable of remaining in one place and finding the feeling of home.

Now That We Don’t Talk

by maryhelenc, posted in Fitnesslicious, Life, MH vs Dating, Mommydom, My New Life As Me, Relationships, Social Media, Terrible choices I make, When Things Suck Hard, work life

It’s been a minute, hasn’t it?

I realized that I haven’t really had the energy to write anything in a long time. The truth is that I didn’t know what to write about. I didn’t really feel confident in my abilities in really anything, and for a long time I’ve been going through the motions. But I’ve been sitting at home down sick with the flu, which has freed up some time to actually be creative and write something.

There hasn’t been much to discuss. I’ve been grieving the loss of a twenty year friendship and it’s crushed me to my core. I have actually mourned this more than my divorce, and even several deaths. This was more than a friendship; they were quite literally the most important non related person in my entire life. I genuinely felt like they were my human in this life, and I didn’t even care how one sided the friendship was getting. I was begging to make plans, they only reached out when they needed to vent. When I was at rock bottom, navigating my weight, my mom, and my mentally ill teenager, I broke down over a pair of pants. Was it dramatic? OF COURSE I WAS OVERLY DRAMATIC! But I didn’t need to hear that. I wanted someone to see that I was breaking down under the pressure of my reality and just tell me that they cared and offered anything; a coffee, a hug, a stiff drink. Instead, I bawled alone on my bedroom floor in silence. I’ve sobbed on my floor so many more times since then; on my birthday, when I didn’t hear from them at all. On their birthday, when I extended an olive branch, desperately wanting my friend, only to be left on read. Even now, I catch myself when something happens in my day, or I get a new meme, because that’s the first person I want to talk to. From that positive work review, to my possible reconciliation with a former flame, I grab my phone to text, and then remember there’s no point. With my divorce, I was happy to be finally free, but this is like having a limb hacked off and expected to be the same. It’s really rattled me in ways I’ve never imagined.

But much like in all things, it’s important to take this experience and use it to grow. I’ve been doing a lot of reflection. I asked my most honest of all of the friends if I was off base over ramen. She said of course I was dramatic, because I’m always dramatic. However, a little basic human empathy would have been nice, and it’s a good thing I didn’t call her, because she has only one feeling.

This is actually not true, and she’s the best person ever. She has been with me during some of the darkest times, taken my daughter to the hospital, and was the only person who showed up to my holiday party even though she had been in a car wreck three days earlier. We need more people like her in our lives).

This gave me an epiphany. I’ve been trying so hard to get back to the old me, but the old me is dead and gone.

I loved the old me, and I currently hate the current me. But I also have to accept that the old me is gone. She died under the weight of a million tasks, inflation, and exhaustion. She can’t come back because she isn’t right for this version of my life and that’s okay. So I realized I needed to grieve for the person I used to be, because she can’t live in this current reality. I need to let her go so I can rebuild her as someone who I can love again.

That didn’t mean that pieces of her can’t come back. It just meant that some things would never be the same. Instead of praying to be who I used to be, I had to look at my life and ask “who am I now?” And then learn to love her. I keep getting stuck because I’m trying to get back to a person who can’t exist anymore. My life has changed dramatically since then. I’m now a full time caregiver to an elderly parent. I work a completely different job. Inflation has changed how much extra money I have. I enjoy being alone more than I ever have before. There isn’t a world to house the old MHC anymore because it’s also dramatically changed. I’ve been failing at all of my goals because I keep trying to walk backwards to a life and a world that isn’t there anymore. I’ve spent years learning to pivot and move forward no matter how bad things got in my life, but I fell into a holding pattern and couldn’t get out.

So, I started making it a point every day to do something to get out of Groundhog Day. From weekend cardio with my 6km walks to Starbucks, working out at night, and making it a point to get a good night’s sleep every night. In order to get back to a person I like, I have to create her from the ground up again. Sometimes it feels so exhausting to constantly have to adapt, but as my daughter would say “sucks.” The truth is that we will always have to adapt. Marriages end, friendships fall apart, relatives die, jobs can be lost. But you can’t just expect to go back to the way it used to be when the way it used to be no longer exists. Instead, you just have to learn how to become the best version of you in your new reality.