I Swear This Time I Mean It

Have you ever been so tired that you feel it in your soul? Because that’s how I’ve felt lately.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been working non stop and work has been pulling me in a lot of different directions. I’m trying to help everyone and run my store and work on articles and there just isn’t enough hours in a day to make everyone happy. I’m trying to give all my time away from work to the famjam, which requires binge watching Fuller House (BTW Fuller House is absolutely terrible).

Maybe it’s because I’m getting over the flu, so I’m living on a lovely diet of Cold 911, DayQuil, and NyQuil. Either way, I’m just tired & it’s impacting every aspect of my life.

One of the things I’m trying to work on is learning how to stop giving so much of myself and not taking time for myself. One of the things I’m most guilty of is trying to help everyone; the girls, my friends, my co-workers, and I always take a backseat. That means the gym (which is so important for my mental health, although I did sign up for DeadBoys Fitness so I can at least WOD from home on non-gym days), personal time to unwind, dating, writing, etc. Everything just takes a backseat to helping everyone else. I keep saying I’ll work on it, until I find myself bogged down and exhausted and feeling like I have no energy. So, I’m learning how to take that time to recharge, and refocus so I can be someone who people can count on to be there for them. But I have to learn to be there for me too.

I think as women, we are conditioned to think that any form of self care is selfish; you need to always put your kids, mate, job, house first. But eventually you just get exhausted because there’s no energy left to pull from. It’s like trying to drink from a water bottle that’s empty. For years, I would just keep pouring until I had shaken the last drop of energy from my body. But I’ve learned that isn’t healthy for me or my family. My kids need a mom that is there for them. I can’t be there for them if I’m too tired to function. I can’t work until I’m dead on my feet. I can’t be everyone’s sounding board. It’s okay for me to withdraw for a bit & focus on my needs. It’s okay to go to bed early, or take a long bath, or say no, I cannot take on that right now, I have too much on my plate. It doesn’t make me a bad person, it doesn’t make me mean. It just means that I need to refill my pitcher. Sometimes, we all just need to be alone with our thoughts to relax.

At my house, you are never truly alone.

However, when you’re a working mom, you sometimes have to power through until you can take a rest. So, I’ll use the gym and DeadBoys Fitness as my personal time until I can take a real break, which comes in the form of a four day weekend in April, where I can hang with the kids, eat pizza, and watch Becky Lynch main event WrestleMania. You know, priorities.

I used to think I needed to be around people because being alone was scary. Now I’ve learned that being alone isn’t scary; it’s necessary to recharge your batteries, and to love yourself. If you can’t love yourself enough to spend time with yourself, doing things you love for yourself, how are you going to love anyone else enough to give them what they need? If you can’t love yourself enough to give you what you need, all you’re doing is letting others exhaust you until there is nothing left of you. I haven’t mastered this, but I’m learning, and I’ll get there.

Let You Love Me

I’ve decided that 2019 is going to be the year I break all of my destructive, self sabotaging habits. I’m going to stop letting anxiety, poor time management skills, and procrastination affect my ability to do my job well, work out three times a week, keep my house clean, and generally be super mom…okay, decent mom, because super mom is a lie.

Step one was leave the house I hated and move into a place I’m proud of. My new house is pretty dope kids. I’m almost unpacked, all the laundry is done, and I’m loving my new place. It’s funny how loving where you live can change your whole outlook. I love my house so I’m making it a point to keep it tidy, and so are the kids. Clutter is a thing of the past, as we’ve made sure to keep things organized and put away. Loving coming home each night has made me happier at work, more pleasant to be around, and overall more at peace with my life & makes me want to be better. I haven’t loved my space since I left London, so this is huge. The stress of moving caused me to lose my focus at work, so it’s been nice to be back on track, working on those sales and really helping my team.

The next is health and wellness. I’m down 12 lbs so far and now that the move is done, I can focus on the gym. I registered for my fourth CrossFit Open, because someone has to finish last and I’m honoured to take one for the team.

Truthfully, it’s just what I need to shake off all of the blahs and residual depression from the summer. Getting back into fitness and integrating back into my gym life will do wonders for my self esteem and mental health. The only way to be a good parent is to teach healthy living by example. If I want to raise girls that love their bodies, I have to learn to love mine, which means getting stronger, healthier. By setting a good example, I can raise strong, bad ass, women.

All of these steps to be a better person are for a reason; to be a better mom, a better writer, a better cell phone boss lady, a better housekeeper and human. The more I invest into loving myself, the more I’ll be able to develop a healthy interpersonal relationship. Which brings me to my last point of self sabotage; the ring.

I started wearing the ring about three years ago, when a security guard at work wouldn’t respect that I wasn’t interested in him romantically. He kept pushing, so I went to Pandora and bought a ring. Suddenly, he backed off (because apparently “no” doesn’t hold as much weight as “look, I’m some other dude’s property!). Now, I just wear it because I like it. But today when I was driving my best friend home from work, we realized that I’m probably self sabotaging, as I wear a giant ring on my left hand. I’m giving off the aura of “unavailable,” mostly because I didn’t like myself and was living up to a self fulfilling prophecy that I was unlovable. Most people check for rings when interacting with a person of interest. While, it meant nothing except it was pretty, I was probably subconsciously making myself unavailable because I’m so gun-shy about dating. I can’t expect people to know I’m interested if I’m giving off the vibe that I’m unavailable. So, perhaps it’s time I ditch the ring.

I think a lot of us put up walls when we’ve been hurt or have experienced trauma. We’re all taught from TV shows that we someone to push past those walls and make us love them because that will heal them. That. Is. Bullshit. No one can tear those walls down but you, for you. This isn’t the CW and life isn’t some teen drama. No one can love you back to life but yourself. I think sometimes we let the dark parts of ourselves convince us that we need to wreck stuff before it starts and then wonder why nothing is changing. I’m so guilty of that, which is why I’m determined to break all of my self destructive habits, so I can be a healthier person personally and professionally. This means accountability at home, at work, at the gym, and with my personal life. This means no more giving the impression that I’m unavailable, or cold, or dismissive. Don’t worry, I’ll still troll online creeps…mostly because they are creeps.

In order to improve my life, I’ve gotta improve my life. No more letting the cycle of depression affect my home, no more letting anxiety affect my desire to live a healthier lifestyle. And no more hiding behind security blankets to avoid dating & rejection! If I’m gonna live my best life, I need to throw out the excuses with the bags I donated to charity when I downsized. The more bad, self sabotaging habits I remove (as well as that ring), the happier I’ll be.

Vega

This morning, I did the normal day off routine; get kids off to school, take a nap, leisurely skim Twitter (if you’re not following me on Twitter, feel free to click HERE. Mostly fitness, bad WWE takes, and rambling about current events), then empty stomach cardio because winter has finally gone back to Hell where it belongs. Anywho, this morning, one of the trending topics was from a man giving real life “love advice.” It was obviously so great and not at all terrible. Here, let me show you & you can see for yourself.

Great, right?

This is always so irksome to me, because it’s always so one sided. It’s always about how women should learn men’s interests and hobbies, and let them teach us how to do stuff, because men aren’t happy unless they are exerting their intellect over stupid, stupid women, right?

Barf. Barf. Barf.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with sharing in your partner’s interests. But this guy perpetuates the idea that women only like sports and video games to attract men. They obviously wouldn’t do it because they like it! Also, it’s one sided. It’s always about how women should learn about their man’s interests and learn to love them, but never the other way around. I have never once read where a man is told to learn about his lady’s interests, or pick up a fashion magazine and learn all about how to pair a skirt with a cute pair of heels.

I’m sure a lot of women can relate to the idea that we must always be interested in what our partners like, but our interests are considered secondary. I remember reading the Sword of Truth series, but I don’t recall my ex husband ever picking up Gatsby, or any of my favourite books. I tried Grand Theft Auto and Halo, but they never played Zelda past the Great Deku Tree in Ocarina of Time. Throughout my life, I have sat through hours of baseball games, listened to Drake albums, and watched One Tree Hill because I wanted to take an interest in my man’s hobbies and interests. But never once have I gotten an offer to play Street Fighter, read a book I recommended, come to a Crossfit class, or watch Wrestlemania (of course, even if they did offer to play Street Fighter, they’d get mad if I won). Some of it wasn’t all bad; I developed my love of the Lord of the Rings after my ex husband asked me to go to all of the movies with him (I later read the books and loved them). While there are lots of great guys out there who really care about their partners and take an interest in their hobbies and interests, the general consensus is always it’s up to women to sacrifice, change, support, adapt. We must giggle and twirl our hair and ask men to teach us how to understand sports, while they never need to learn anything about our interests or hobbies or what we do to make us happy.

Relationships are supposed to work both ways, but you rarely see men encouraged to read Pride & Prejudice, or listen to their girl’s favourite band, or watch Mean Girls and learn the entire dialogue. It’s always up to us to embrace their hobbies and assimilate into their world. But I think it’s just as important that a guy should want to get to know his mate’s interest. I don’t expect you to love it, but I do expect any potential mates to at least take an interest in some of my hobbies. Ask how my class went at the gym; maybe even check out a class with me & try Crossfit. Attempt some yoga with me. Stream some Taylor Swift and Breaking Benjamin on Apple Music. Ask me about the articles I’m working on or my day at work. But I refuse to be in a relationship with someone who expects me to take an interest in their life and take no interest in mine. Relationships are about compromise. If you don’t, then you’ll end up like John Cena, who refused to budge on anything and lost his fiancée (or it’s all a ploy for Total Bellas).

So, don’t expect a woman to pretend to give a shit about your fantasy football league if you’re not going to watch the Bachelor. Women like to feel respected and valued just as much as men do. In fact, you’ll likely find that the more invested you are in what she enjoys, she’ll probably show more interest in yours. Then you’ll actually be merging your lives, instead of asking her to stroke your ego.

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Goodness Gracious 

Every once in awhile, I interrupt my normal adventures to mention something that really grinds my gears (I promise we’ll return to the regular format of “today I made choices that weren’t completely awful” later). 


Today’s topic: why douchebag people need to stop being douchebags about other people’s kids. 

This past week, Ryan Reynolds received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. He was joined at the ceremony by his wife Blake Lively and his two daughters, James and her sister, who’s name has not been made public. The internet was delighted to see the rambunctious two year old running around and clapping. She even dropped the mic when she decided the ceremony was over. The entire display was adorable as all get out. But of course, the sanctimommies were out in full force to criticize James’s dinosaur coat, her out of control curls, her behaviour, and her name. To those people, please do shut the fuck up. 

(Before you ask why there are no photos of James and her sister accompanying this post, it’s simple. Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively have asked that their children be sheltered from the public eye as much as possible. As a parent who does not post her own children’s photos here to protect their privacy, I feel it would be inappropriate to post photos of their children. If you want to see them, you’re welcome to Google)

These horrible commenters are the very reason that Reynolds and Lively opted to shield their daughters from the public eye. They have stated repeatedly that they want James and her sister to have a normal childhood. That James & her sister did not choose a public life; their parents did. They are under no obligation to tell the public their children’s names, show you photos or justify why they named them what they did. They don’t need to justify why their daughter wore a dinosaur coat. They’re not ugly. And anyone who can spew venom at a two year old and her three month old sister needs to get some serious help. 

I can understand why people who are dissatisfied with their lives could have an issue with Ryan Reynolds or Blake Lively. Here are two attractive and successful people who have found a great love and have a lovely family. But that’s no reason to project your bitterness onto them. I read such classy comments that the pair must have wanted boys, look at the “boy clothes” they were dressed in and James’s name. First of all; James was in a dress. Hardly “boy” clothes. Secondly, there are no boy or girl clothes, just clothes. And most importantly, Reynolds named his daughter for his beloved father, who passed away shortly before her birth. And even if Reynolds & Lively named their kid Princess Banana Nut Muffin, it is none of your damn business what Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively named their kids. 

Let’s all say it together; IT IS NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS WHAT RYAN REYNOLDS OR BLAKE LIVELY NAME OR HOW THEY DRESS THEIR KIDS. 


I love pop culture, but kids should be off limits. Paparazzi shouldn’t photograph celebrity kids. If celebrities choose to post photos of their kids on social media, and you must comment, leave the same comment that you would leave on a friend or family member’s social media page. If you can’t be nice; be quiet.  Would you tell your friend or family member that their kid has a stupid name or they were dressed poorly? Would you Shame a friend for not breastfeeding or belittle them? This happened to Kristin Cavallari and her husband Jay Cutler when she posted a family snapshot. Her choice to give her kids a vegan diet was questioned, with people accusing her of starving her kids, saying they needed a cheeseburger, etc. While I do not agree with her decision to not vaccinate her children, I respect that she is their mother and it’s her call. 

Let’s all say it together; IT IS NONE OF OUR DAMN BUSINESS WHAT KRISTIN CAVALLARI AND JAY CUTLER FEED THEIR CHILDREN. 


Kids didn’t choose to be in the public eye. They are not “fair game” because their parents are famous. This argument was common online when WWE Universal Champion Kevin Owens’s wife Karina was forced to delete her Instagram account because bullies insulted her son Owen & daughter Elodie. They used the justification that since Owens is a bad guy on TV and uses his social media in character, that it was “fair” to insult his eight year old son and two year old daughter and harrass his wife. Karina is not famous. She lives a quiet life with her family in Quebec. She didn’t deserve the abuse. That would be like someone insulting you because your husband got drunk at a family gathering and pissed them off. Isn’t that stupid?

Let’s all say it together; YOU DO NOT GET TO INSULT KEVIN OWENS’S FAMILY BECAUSE HE BLOCKED YOU ON TWITTER. 


I know celebrities seem larger than life, but they’re people too. They love their families. They want the best for their kids just like you or me. Ryan Reynolds doesn’t owe you access to his kids (so you can call them ugly) because you went to see Deadpool AND the Green Lantern and you watched all six seasons of Gossip Girl so Blake Lively best share every gory deta of her birth stories. They have every right to protect them from trolls and bullies, just like you would protect your family from online abuse & mean strangers. 


So, the next time you feel the need to question a famous person’s parenting, ask yourself how you would feel if someone did it to you, because I bet someone has and it super pissed you off. I always tell people that the world would be an infinitely more wonderful place if we practiced the lost art of not being an asshole. Let’s try not being an asshole. 

Ignition & Friction

Sometimes I go on social media and the things that I read really grinds my gears.

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Over the last few weeks, I’ve been seeing a lot of posts regarding Rania El-Alloul, who was told by a judge that her court case would not be heard unless she removed her hijab, contradicting a previous Supreme Court ruling. On the heels of this, Prime Minister Stephen Harper called the hijab, niqab, and the burka “anti-woman” (earning the mockery of Twitter), & I saw a lot of amazeballs comments on my newsfeed, such as;

“Good. You come to our country, you follow our ways.”

“If you don’t like our rules, go back to your country. We don’t need you here.”

And other fantastic gems that make me ashamed that I live in the same city as these people, let alone were once on my social media feeds. It all makes me really angry and sick that we’re becoming THAT kind of society, where we think that our country is some kind of melting pot or Star Trek Borg assimilation. Because we aren’t.

Canada is a cultural mosaic that was built with Native Canadians and Immigrants working together to create a nation that values peace, goodwill and the retention of cultural identity. We have a Charter of Rights and Freedoms and a Multiculrualism Act that encourage those who come to our nation to practice their religion and maintain their culture if they see fit. This is part of the Canadian identity. We do not tell people to “join us or get out.” If you have done that, you are not exhibiting the Canadian spirit and should be ashamed of yourselves.

I also do not get the idea that we as “Native Canadians” get to tell new Canadians to follow our rules or get out, considering we our ancestors didn’t do that when we got here. In fact, I’m pretty sure that we told the First Nations to do what we said or get smallpoxed. As time passed, Native children were put in residential schools, where all sorts of atrocities were committed against the children. That certainly doesn’t sound like our ancestors came to Canada and instantly adopted the traditions and rules of the Native Canadians. In fact, it sounds more like we forced our way of life on them and destroyed their way of life until they assimiliated. You know, what we’re suggesting we do now. So, unless you are part of the First Nations, I don’t think you really get to tell a new Canadian what to wear, because once upon a time, your family was a New Canadian. They kept their religion, their heritage and their rights to retain those things. Why can’t new Canadians in 2015 do the same thing?

To me, the hijab, the niqab and the burka just like anything else in this world; if you don’t agree, don’t wear one. If a muslim woman chooses to wear one in accordance with her religion, then she can. Just like no one should stop you from wearing a cross, a star of David or any other religious symbol, you shouldn’t tell someone else what they can wear it on your head. Also, please stop comparing it to a baseball cap. These are garments designed to protect modesty in accordance with guidelines set in the Quran, the other is a symbol to cheer for your favourite team. I would NEVER view my New Orleans Saints snapback in the same capacity as my mother’s rosary beads, so I don’t see how anyone else could make the comparison.

Let’s stop with these comments. Let people worship freely as our laws and Charter dictate we should. After all, you shouldn’t get the right to wear what you want just because you happened to be born here. If that were the case, then please find the nearest person who is a member of the First Nations and ask them what we should be wearing, because they are the only people who’s family didn’t come here from another nation hoping for freedom to choose where to work, how to live and yes, what to wear.

Seven Things

AKA: The seven rules for dating MHC.

After meeting (& casting out) “the guy,” I realized more than ever that I have a series of unwritten rules when it comes to dating. That’s why no one gets past date one hahaha. I asked my therapist who told me it’s good that I’m being picky, as I’m finally looking out for me. I’m in a place where I love myself more than I care to protect people around me & I need to protect myself from ending up hurt again or settling. Settling is how you end up married & miserable. So, while it may not be ideal for the guys, I’m not willing to compromise what I’m looking for (it doesn’t hurt that no one is giving me butterflies or has been someone I’ve wanted for a long time. Less attachment is better). But, I talked to my friends the Psych Major & the Gleason Table & told them my unwritten rules for dating & they agreed that it’s not a bad list. I figured I’d share them in case there’s any I missed.

1. Don’t spend the entire time telling me how pretty I am. I know this. I OWN A MIRROR. That might sound horrible, but I think all women should feel comfortable in their own skin. I love a good compliment, but there’s got to be more than wasting oxygen telling me what I already know. The guy spent all of his time telling me I’m gorgeous. That’s great, but I have a brain. I’m smart. I’m funny. I have great opinions on politics. Why aren’t we discussing current events? ANYTHING?! I love good conversation & I’ll want you to keep up. If you can’t discuss pop culture or politics or even a book you read, please go away. There’s more to life than looks.

2. I don’t give a rat’s ass how much money you make. See this house? I pay for it myself. All of the bills in it too. Everything I’m wearing too. This is because I HAVE A JOB. I don’t need a sugar daddy, I’m not impressed by your bank statement & no one takes care of me but me. While yes, I feel a gentleman should offer to pay on the first date, I’ll likely pay my own bill.

3. This doesn’t mean you can be a broke ass, you MUST have a job. The Gleason table always wants me to add “and not at a call centre, because only losers work @ call centres.” I’m not that picky though. I don’t care if you dig ditches; you have a job. A legit, gainful form of employment with a T4 and everything. I support myself & my daughters; I expect you can support yourself. If you jump from job to job, I’ll probably send you packing. I think you should be able to hold said job.

4. How you treat others is how you’ll treat me. Do you continuously belittle your friends behind their back? Do you talk down to the waitress and badmouth every ex lover as “insane” or “a bitch” and every relationship you were wronged because you’re perfect? Well, that’s how you’ll treat me so goodbye. I may not have 100% glowing things to say about everyone in my life, but I’ll try. I’m also quick to point out my part in the failure of a relationship. No one is perfect, least of all me & my life has no room for narcissism. My foster dad always taught me the true measure of a man’s character was how he treated those in his life, including the waitress & his mother. So, if you treat those around you poorly, you’ll treat me poorly. Also, I don’t tolerate any racist or homophobic remarks. I walked out on a date because the guy said the beers on tap were “gay.” Respect goes a long way.

5. Trust is EARNED. You don’t just get it. The guy said I seemed mistrustful of people because I wouldn’t tell him which store in the mall I worked in. I don’t want you visiting me @ work (his intention). I don’t think it’s your business after date one. I won’t add you on FB either. My friend got flamed for saying that he has “social networking rules” for his girlfriends. I have them too. I don’t advertise my relationship on FB (I once changed the status as a joke between myself & the Gleason Table) & I don’t add photos of us until we’ve been dating for at least four months. I was once more open on my Twitter, but I learned not to do that. Keeping a separation until the relationship is serious isn’t a bad thing. It’s like my children; you won’t meet them for at least one year. I don’t need someone to play quasi stepparent & then leave them & hurt them. They have a dad; he’s not the best, but he’s their dad. If you’d like to step up & be their stepdad, then you’ll show me that you’re here for the long haul. But let’s get to date two. Shall we?

6. My name is Mary-Helen. Simple right? I abhor nicknames (although there are still about six people left on Earth who still call me Melon, but they’ve all known me for over 10 years), short forms, pet names of any kind. Like A LOT. If we ever progress into a real relationship then I will tolerate your need to call me some cutesy name, but until then my name is not “honey,” “sweetie,” “Dollface,” or “baby.”

7. Remember how I said that looks aren’t the number one thing? That applies to you too. I don’t care about your muscles or abs; if you have a feature that attracted me, it’s your eyes & smile. That makes you attractive to me. You know what else is hot? A man with a brain. A guy who starts a conversation about books. A guy who’s read Edgar Allen Poe and didn’t just see the Simpsons version of the Raven. A man who is passionate about something, whether it’s his sports team or the world around him. A gentleman who still holds doors & calls when he says he will. That’s attractive.

Those are my simple rules. Anyone who follows them may make it to date two! (Hey, it could happen!) I don’t think they’re that hard; I think they’re common sense honestly. I don’t need to be impressed by big talk & the like. I want to be impressed by actions, something tangible, a real person.