Private Eye

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.

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve

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

Now That We Don’t Talk

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.

Castles Crumbling

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

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.

Blindfolded

It’s that time of year again!

The time where I reflect on the year and take a writing break for the holidays. But the truth is, I didn’t write much this year. This was the most challenging year of my entire life. Due to a continued fight for child support and an unexpected layoff from a job I loved, I was left financially wrecked. My health took a dive, and while I’m still struggling to get answers about what’s been happening, I was also forced to deal with my own mortality, as I nearly died from a pulmonary embolism. All of my coping mechanisms were taken and I fell into a deep depression. It’s been a struggle. But I’m bouncing back, with a new job, and hopefully more changes that will make things better. But thanks for coming with me on this insane ride, and as always, I’m sharing a series of photos of my year (excluding the kids). I wish everyone a wonderful holiday season and fingers crossed that 2023 will be a better year for everyone.

Avril Lavigne made all our emo dreams come true

That time a misdiagnosis nearly killed me

Embraced the vision

Trixie & Katya make life better

I haven’t cut or coloured my hair in a year. It’s really long and kind of dry. One of my holiday plans is to chop it all off.

RIP some customer’s S22 ultra

The Great War

Have you ever looked in the mirror and not even recognized yourself anymore?

That’s how I feel. I don’t even recognize this person anymore. This year has been so challenging and it’s pretty much stripped away all of my best qualities, to the point where I feel like a tired old lady just ready to live with my cats and wither into dust. My finances are a mess, thanks to layoffs and lesser paying jobs, and the lack of child support. Every time I have to say no, I just feel bad. Parents should be able to afford a Slurpee, or a trip to McDonald’s, without counting all of the crack change. I should be able to send my eleventh grader lunch money. I should be able to go shopping for cute winter clothes. But instead, I’m always saying “next time,” and I know deep down they resent me because next time never comes. I’ve cut out everything that brings me any semblance of joy except for my morning cup of tea and even then, I don’t get one three days a week because I was putting money away for Xmas. I haven’t been to the gym in forever but I never picked up my shoes. I felt like if I did, it was defeat, that I would never go back. I don’t go out with my friends. Hell, I barely text. Also, if you’re my friend, I’m sorry I suck at communicating. I hate my weight, my hair, my skin, everything about my appearance and I just feel like I’ve failed at pretty much everything. It’s been a struggle to get out of bed some days. The cup isn’t half full or half empty; it’s just empty.

I suppose the last two years has taken its toll. There’s only so much you can give of yourself before you have nothing left, like the giving tree. And it’s only so long before you snap. I had two of those moments. The first one was when I needed coverage at work for a family emergency and I was told there was no one. Something in my brain snapped. For years I helped EVERYONE. Needed a shift covered? MHC. Needed help with staffing? MHC. Sick days? psh! I ONLY TOOK ONE DAY OFF FROM WORK WHEN I ALMOST DIED! And yet, the universe said “no one wants to go to where you are,” while I cried at work needing help. I called one of my colleague friends and bawled because he is an Angel sent from God. He found me some help and I could go home. But the whole way I was enraged. I loved my colleagues. I’m forever grateful to my DM for giving me a job, but I realized in that second I was right back where I was last year; trapped in a job I had to devote every second of myself to. I wanted to give my DM that person, but I don’t have it in me to give anymore. She deserves a top performer who can give her that level of buy in.

So I quit.

I found a new job with a living salary and more work life balance. I gave my notice and starting next month, I can stop selling phones once and for all and do a job that allows me to use my skills; training, development, and support. I’m excited. I was shocked I got it tbh. Do you know how many awesome candidates are looking for work? And I’m just me. But it’s a much needed change. I’ll be able to see my kids and clean my house. Maybe pet my cats. Maybe go on more dates and finally see my friends. I haven’t hung out with one of my best friends since July. It sucks dude. It’s gonna be nice to do stuff with my people again starting with the annual holiday party.

But, that was just one moment of clarity, the other came when I was a casualty of the Great War, AKA the battle to see my Lord and Saviour, Taylor Allison Swift.

I haven’t been anywhere in years. I couldn’t even go to my friend’s wedding. My kids are tired from school, teen pressures, and helping take care of their grandma when I’m at work. They deserved a trip. The opening act (Gracie Abrams) is my 15yo’s fave non Taylor performer. So I socked away every cent I had for nosebleeds. I gave up every minor luxury I have, banked the rest. I knew the tour was coming and I was going to come through. I had Verified Fan access that was supposed to carry me to the presale. I would use my income tax refund for flight and hotel, and for once, I wasn’t gonna say no. I was going to give them this one thing for Xmas and our Taycation was going to be magical. Instead, I got this.

My heart broke as the tire fire known as ticketmaster shut me out. I went to stubhub only to have my life ruined. My tiny little amount for our four shitty nosebleeds couldn’t even cover one ticket, let alone four. I had to say no again. No Taycation. No happy kids at Xmas that mom came through. Just another time I had to disappoint them. Between my work schedule, and my bank balance, and the realization that I wasn’t coming through for them, my brain broke again.

I COMPLETELY understand this is a first world issue. I am well aware that not taking my kids to see Taylor Swift won’t ruin my life. But it was just another no. Another “not this time.” I know it wasn’t my fault, and Ticketmaster is the dirt worst, but suddenly all of those times I had to say no flooded my brain; the slurpees, the tacos, the new shirt, that used CD, the discounted book, the hair dye, all of it. Every next time, or I’m sorry we don’t have it, every one just flashed through my eyes like a death scene in a movie, ending with the emptiness that this concert that meant so much to them was now, just another no. So I sat in my car and cried. I’d tell myself it’ll be okay, but we all know it’s not. It’s another thing I couldn’t do while the parents around me take their kids to Mexico for spring break and buy concert tickets for good grades. I moved them to a more affluent area and sometimes barely make rent, but I did it so they’d get a better education. But now they see how much more their friends parents can do for them. They’re good kids. They get good grades. They help at home, and are good to their friends and cats. But I let them down spectacularly every day and it just sucks.

After I was done my crying and generally being miserable, wallowing in how 2022 has been the absolute worst. It challenged me physically, mentally, and I’ve lost so much financially and I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I used to take so much pride in my appearance, in my work ethic, and in my life. Now, I just don’t care. I dug a hole and I couldn’t get out. Getting a new job is awesome, but I need to fix me or I’m just transferring the misery. So, I got to work. I deep cleaned my house. I started working out at home. I called a credit counsellor to work through my debt, whether it’s through a debt management program or a consumer proposal. It sucks, but it’s what I need to do. If I don’t have to stress about money as much, little things won’t get to me, and there will be fewer instances of no. I started getting up earlier and actually wearing makeup again. I started going to bed at a reasonable time. Also, I started forgiving myself for the things I’ve been beating myself up about. I can’t change that I got laid off. I can’t fix that I put on weight because I couldn’t work out for five months. I can’t change the fact that Ticketmaster sucks. But what I can do is change my situation. I can keep watching stubhub and seat geek for cheap resale tickets. I can keep an eye for Canadian dates. I can make time to work out. I can focus on budgeting smarter with the help of the counsellor. That will help me have more money to go to the gym and say yes to a few of those smaller things. I can go into my new job motivated and excited. I can continue to focus on being a present and active parent. These are things I can change.

While the answers aren’t ideal, at least there feels like a light at the end of the tunnel, except for the Taylor Swift tickets. That shit is just hopeless. But I will be able to look in the mirror in a few months and recognize who I’m looking at, and maybe even like that person too.

Anti-Hero

Help.

Over the last week, my life has felt like it’s imploding. I work almost every day, my work life balance is non existent, my house is a mess, I have a home repair issue, and my mental health is spiralling. I’m tired and overwhelmed and I genuinely feel like my life has hit rock bottom. My life has been stressful at times, but never so much so that I’ve felt so overwhelmed I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. My thoughts have been intrusive and dark and I have to actively fight not to give into them, and the CMHA crisis line hears from me a lot at 3am. I just feel like I’m drowning in a sea of responsibility, work, and anxiety. I took a massive pay cut this year so I’m scraping to make ends meet while working as much as I can just to earn as much as I can to make it. When you are stretched so thin, you feel the burnout radiating through your pores. There are nights I stare up at the ceiling and just pray not to be here anymore. That’s where I am right now. I’m also very, very alone.

I should preface, it’s not really a romantic partner I want when I mean “I am all alone.” I date when I have time, and if it happens, it happens. I mean I just wish I had someone to jump into the trenches when I need help. I have amazing friends who listen, mostly without judgment, and it’s helpful. I love them and I appreciate them listening. But they also have their own lives, so when I want to text and say I’m at rock bottom and I desperately need help and guidance, I also know they have work and families and priorities that don’t necessarily mean “help my friend who made a mess of her life for the 800th time.” But I just wish I had a teammate. Someone who could help me when things are over my head. Someone to help me with my mom. Someone who understands the challenges that come with raising my family. Someone to lessen the load. But my own family doesn’t check in. There’s no offer to help with my mom. There’s no one to talk to when my brain is the meanest in the middle of the night. There’s no one who can help me at home so I can work the extra hours, because I can’t ask anyone to take away from their life to fix mine. I can’t ask the kids to take on the big people jobs like running the house so I work. I just finally got benefits back so I can go back to therapy, but I make too much for government aid and not enough for a maid. So it’s me, all alone, against the universe, as it’s been for so many years, and I’m tired. I also feel like if I’m honest with people about how I’m feeling, then I’m complaining. So when people ask, I tell them platitudes;

– I’ll be fine

– it’ll all work out

– it’s under control

This made me start to realize I’m all alone because I’m too proud to admit I need help desperately. I already feel defeated, so I feel like obviously all of my friends who are killing it don’t need my eternal gloomy depression and exhaustion to mess their sunny days. I feel like everyone has to be sick of hearing about how my inability to learn from the same mistakes over and over. So, I tell everyone what they want to hear; that I’ll be okay. But I’m not. I want to cry and scream and even though my traumatic life has made me hate physical contact, I just want a hug. My hippy friend gives the best hugs, but she’s so far away. My best friend from high school gives pretty great ones too, but she’s also really far away.

My role has always been the strong, optimistic friend. That’s all I ever hear “you’re so strong, you got this.” So I’m always afraid to tell people when I’m not. But I also wonder how many other people are also afraid to just admit they feel awful. Maybe they’re struggling too. Maybe we are all walking through life barely hanging on to our mental health, wondering why no one seems to care about us, it’s because we bury it until there’s nothing left of us. Then we sit up bleary eyed, crying at 3am with only Taylor Swift to keep us hanging on, or maybe that’s just me. Maybe if we were able to say “I need help,” or “I’m not doing okay,” there would be someone there for us. Basically, much like every other thing in my life, I’m all alone because I’m afraid of telling people how much of a mess things are. Maybe that’s how it is for everyone and we are all just floating through trying to hold it together while our late night ghosts keep us up.

But no matter how lonely and dark everything is, or how miserable I am, I can always count on my friends to try to help, with texts, memes, and a listening ear. I’m grateful that even if they can’t jump into the trenches and help me feel like I can get everything under control, at least I have people on my side who care, which is more than a lot of people have. And maybe everything will work out. But if you also feel like you’re drowning, at least you know there are other crazy single moms who are barely holding it together and cry in their car before they go into the house. You’re not alone, and you’re probably doing great. Even if you’re not, you’re probably doing better than me, and that’s not much, but it’s something we can drink to.

Strangers

Oh, Hello!

It’s been a minute! Truthfully, I haven’t had much to talk about. I’ve been focused on my family, and adjusting to my new job, and weight loss. Not terribly interesting stuff. Weight loss has been a struggle, and after my visit with the endocrinologist, I was left even more frustrated. Apparently I was misdiagnosed with PCOS, and there’s another issue, but I had to plead for blood work to figure it out. I just got “have you considered being less fat?” YES. YES I HAVE. But then instead of addressing the actual symptoms, it was just here’s a weight loss shot. I’m getting blood work, but I had to yell at the doctor to get it. It’s absolutely shameful that women’s health is completely ignored unless you want to get pregnant. I ended up taking medication and nearly died for legit no reason and I am actually really angry about it. I’m very hesitant to take medication after what happened in April. So, I’ll go ask for a second opinion from another OB/GYN, but until then, I’m going to have to take control of my health on my own, without help from doctors who have no interest in investigating women’s health.

One thing that has been tough about weight loss has been that I have no goal to work towards. Before, I would pick a goal and work towards it, like my friend’s wedding, or the lululemon 10k. But there was no 10k and the pulmonary embolism has forced me to start all over again in terms of fitness. But I’ve finally completed my treatment, which means two things; I can get back to running, and I can drink again.

Okay not really. Anyone who knows me knows I drink on my birthday and sometimes Xmas

I’ve been thinking a lot about what is a good fitness goal for me. I really want to work towards something big, something meaningful. Like those people who do Tough Mudder, but without the masochism, and the making Tough Mudder your entire raison d’être. That’s when I decided that I’m going to quit eating fast food (except one cheat meal a month) and I am going to save all of my coins, and compete in the Ultimate Hawaiian Trail Run!

Photo courtesy of @ultimatehawaiiantrailrun. Give ‘em an IG follow!

All the money raised is to help at risk youth through the Keala Foundation. It combines all of my favourite things: fitness, helping others, and vacations. It’s a big goal to train for that requires me to stick to fitness goals, give up fast food, and stick to a budget, all things I’ve been trying really hard to do. I’m finally getting the hang of my new job and adjusting back to being in the store. I’m looking at how to better financially plan so I can get my debt under control, as well as reducing some costs by scaling back some cable and cellular services. I need to get healthier, so eating at home was the cheapest start. Until I can get back to the gym, it’ll be home based workouts with Deadboys Fitness and starting Couch to 5K again. I can’t keep obsessing about the year I was set back being treated for something I didn’t have. I need to focus on what is in my control, which is eating right, better financial planning, and exercise. Will I lose a ton of weight? Maybe. I did it before. Or maybe I’ll finally get answers about why I’m struggling with my health. But I know working towards some kind of goal will help me stay on task.

The other thing that is critical is eating right; no diets, no tricks. I have teenagers and I have to teach them healthy body image, including a positive relationship with food. That’s how I lost all of the weight before. No more intermittent fasting, or fad diets. I’ll watch my macros in MyFitnessPal, but that’s it. I’m a role model to three young people, I have to make sure they’re seeing someone getting healthy but not skipping meals or being really restrictive. It’s gonna be about choosing the right foods; not changing my entire diet to yo-yo with my weight.

I’m not going to pretend it’s all going to work out, but I am going to be gentle with myself while working very hard to improve. The more work I put in, the better the returns, so I’ll just keep working and keep positive, excited to see change…and hopefully go to Hawaii to run in mud and raise money to help others, which is always a good time.

Carolina

When it rains, it pours, let me tell you.

Remember how I almost died? Well, 2022 decided to further kick me in the face! My company faced some financial hardships, and almost all of us were laid off. Suddenly I went from feeling confident in my future to worried about losing my house. It was tough. I have nothing negative to say about my time with the company. This is a great organization with great people. I’m honoured to have been part of it. I met really great people and I’m lucky to be friends with many of them. It was a rewarding experience. But, I have to pay bills and even when life gets you down, there’s a silver lining. One of my former colleagues works for another organization and she was gracious enough to offer me a position. I’m super excited to be part of this company. She’s a great leader and I feel like I can learn a lot from her. Most importantly, I’ve been reunited with colleagues and friends that I loved working with. It’s a really cool time for me work wise.

However, switching jobs means switching pay periods. Money is tight. Benefits are non existent for the next three months. Trying to scrape together money for medication has been tough. Speaking of medication, I’m still fighting my doctor for a referral to a specialist and I’m not getting anywhere. The tooth I had a root canal in has been feeling off (not painful, just weird), so anxiety says my tooth is falling out and I’ll be ugly. I’ve been afraid to work out since my pulmonary embolism. I’m just very down on myself.

I deleted my dating apps a few weeks ago. I got stood up and just decided that was it. But I’ve been noticing the way I look at myself hasn’t been great. I genuinely don’t see the point of trying to date when I feel genuinely ugly. Any time someone suggests that I date someone, I just say I am too ugly and crazy have WAY too much baggage. Whether or not i was interested was irrelevant; I was just too ugly to even consider it as an option. Everything is just about looks it feels. Even when I was explaining my frustration with my doctor, my friend kept bringing it back to my weight, even though it was about my doctor only wanting me to take one kind of medication. When I went into Lululemon I was asked if I was shopping for gifts because “we don’t accommodate plus size.” I realized my weight will always be my defining character trait until I lose it again, so there’s no point in putting myself out there to meet anyone. I just feel like the annoying person people engage with because they work with me or whatever. Hell, even some of my friends always tell me how I’m doing so great on my own and they see me as the type of person who will be happy with their cats, alone and don’t need anyone. They meant it as a compliment; I felt like it meant I’m not really a catch. I don’t think I’m a catch. It’s either that or reminders that the general population says me as some kind of airhead with no substance and talks too much. If I had a dollar for every time I heard “shut up Mary-Helen,” I’d never have money problems again. All of my report cards with “talks too much,” are now making me wonder if I’m really just…not partner material. All of a sudden dating just felt like a waste of of time so I just sort of gave up.

I get this is just anxiety. Deep down I know I’m not ugly or stupid and my tooth probably isn’t going to be extracted or fall out (but until the dentist says so, I’m gonna be a little scared). But I also have to internalize a lot because a lot of times, my feelings are sort of dismissed as “you’re fine,” or “it’s fine,” while I’m kind of expected to be there for everyone and it’s overwhelming. When I’m helping my kids with body image issues, I can’t really open up about my own. I won’t have benefits for three months so therapy is off the table for a bit. It’s also the feeling of not being in control of every situation to give myself the stability I need to thrive. So, I needed to figure out how do I pull myself out of this rut? I can’t just cry and I’m not allowed to drink so functional alcoholism seems to be off of the table for now. I needed a new plan to help pull myself out of this mental health spiral.

I’ve started goal setting using an app called Finch. It has all sorts of things to help with wellness and keep anxiety in check. One goal was to fill all of my Apple Watch rings in July. I need to build healthy habits. I get up thirty minutes before I have to so I can meditate and set the tone for the day. I went so long without putting on makeup or even trying to take pride in my appearance, so I make sure to at least do my eyes every morning, and do my hair as well. No more ponytails. I get to work forty minutes early so I can mentally prepare for my shift and make an action plan for the day. They’re baby steps, but hopefully they’ll turn into strides. It’s gonna be a journey, but I’ve pulled myself out of darker places. I just need to focus on the things that I need to thrive;

1. Fitness

2. Family

3. Friends

4. Ways to grow at work

This means getting over my fear of fitness. I have to remember that it wasn’t exercise that hurt me, it was the medication that caused the blood clots. I’ve taken steps to recover. I have to trust my body is healing and ready to get back into shape. I can start off slowly and eventually get back to the point where I’m seeing results. Obviously this situation has caused me to make some major dietary changes, so between that and the fitness, I should see the results I’m hoping to see, and I can celebrate my commitment to health.

As for dating, I’m gonna stay away for now. Until I can see myself as someone worthy of love, I can’t. That’s how I ended up with people who were abusive or mean before. I don’t want to settle, so until my response is no longer “no way, I’m way too old/fat/ugly/stupid” when anyone suggests a possible date for me, I can’t even consider it. I can’t be a good partner to someone else when my inner monologue is treating my psyche like shit. This way I can avoid being preyed on by some creep, and when the time comes, I’ll be emotionally ready to be a good partner…In theory.