Category: Life

Categories
Life

I’ve Started a Substack Page

After making a Substack page and then abandoning it for fear of not knowing what to write, thinking I had to ONLY write about one topic, I’ve come back in hopes of gaining more traction with readers.

It’s also opened up a new avenue of chapter-by-chapter releases of novellas where I can workshop it a little bit before hitting publish into the big, scary world of self-published books.

You can find my first novella debut there – right now! – called The Snowy Christmas.

Seriously, check it out. It’s FREE!

As I get rid of social media in the classic sense (see yah, Instagram), I’m using Substack as my place of community. So, if you’d like to connect, check it out.

I will be working on figuring out if this website (the one I’ve neglected for a while) will mirror Substack in most ways, or if I’ll be doing something different. Most likely, they will be similar with more ways to connect on Substack and maybe a few different things over here.

I’m finished trying to make everything perfectly curated and am just throwing everything out there into the world, enjoying myself, and hoping others will come along for the ride.

Categories
Life

Working Through the Brain Sludge

Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com

I’ve been at this writing thing for quite some time. I used to scribble stories in journals when I was younger. I’d write down my feelings and day-to-day happenings in my diary, something that wasn’t always as fun as telling stories. Maybe that’s why I got bored of the regular lifestyle blogging that pulls so many in. I don’t care about the day-to-day activities or hashing about it all every. single. day. I love stories.

But, what happens when your brain suddenly turns off and it’s impossible to tell any type of story? It’s been weeks since I’ve posted on here, mainly due to sickness just before Christmas and then the excitement of the holidays. Though ours weren’t particularly packed with plans, I felt content with the few things we had on our calendar and the rest of time was taken up with relaxing, family outings, and cleaning.

Eventually, my basement will be clean and more useable. Maybe even cute and not filled with stacks of crap everywhere. Eventually.

But, as my English professor used to say after every 10 minutes…I digress.

The start of the fall had me feeling on top of the world. I had got going on this blog, hoping to reach a few people, maybe – eventually – make a little bit of money from it. I started a business with my pal, Sarah, doing editing and writing projects (psst it’s juniperandoakediting.ca if you want to check it out). I added two more books to my name on Amazon, bringing the Baby Paris series to a close, but ready to create more travel kid’s books.

It was all feeling great. I had the motivation. I, somehow, had the time. And then….

Well, it all kind of took a turn. I couldn’t seem to think of anything to say. Everything sounded forced and stupid and just…not right. Luckily, I had an arsenal of posts already written and at the ready to go live. But, I was feeling incomplete. I had no more outlet for my creative feelings, feelings that were still living inside of me, but were being tamped down with so many other things.

Social media scrolling. Toddler shenanigans. Sickness. Busyness cleaning. TV watching. Imposter Syndrome.

My mind was constantly running. Even at the gym, I started playing mahjong on the elliptical instead of mindlessly staring out the window. I stopped listening to music at the gym, stopped reading books while on the bike. I wanted to just take a minute to free my brain, but somewhere in all the messiness that is life I couldn’t let it happen.

I used to meditate before bed. I would meditate in the evening or the morning, sometimes sitting on the dock of my pond before I went to work. I haven’t even tried to get back into that rhythm. Though it would look very different with a toddler about, and I could probably only get a good meditation in before bed, I didn’t even try. I had been in survival mode since my daughter was born and kind of didn’t think to get out of it.

Though I haven’t felt the need to go to bed at 7pm just so I could get more sleep, or take multiple naps during the day, or feel so touched out that I just sit and stare at a wall for 10 minutes every night, I still wasn’t doing what I wanted. Or, rather, doing things that matter to me. Because I’ve been doing what I wanted: watching TV, seeing friends every so often, scrolling, making travel plans. And, doing things that I thought I should do: cleaning the house, working as much as I could to get a business off the ground, posting here, but not really feeling it the last month.

I’ve been doing things, but just nothing that truly matters. And, it’s been affecting my brain. How I’ve been feeling.

I sort of made some New Years’ resolutions, even though I don’t really like them. I think it’s better to make changes to your life when you need it, rather than a list of things you think you should be doing just because the clock has struck midnight on the previous year. My resolutions are less list-y and nothing is centered around weight loss (such a population resolution), they’re more of things I’m going to continue working on in my life.

I’m going to just go for it all. I’ve been stuck in Imposter Syndrome for a long, long time. I was worried that I wasn’t as cool as other bloggers out there when I was working on The LT Edit and I didn’t go hard enough on it. I haven’t hit my writing goals because I’m afraid that if I’ll fail. I struggled with starting my business because I was worried it would fail.

What silly thoughts that kept me from achieving success. This blog isn’t the same as my previous lifestyle one, but maybe it’ll morph into something different over time. Right now, it’s for me to tell stories, and for people to (hopefully!) enjoy them. I’m not going to worry about sounding silly, or whether or not I’m cool enough to blog. I’m just going to do it.

I’m going to go for my writing goals. Work on it and just do it. I was worried my business would fail, and while we’re not making millions, we’re just starting out with lots of room to grow. I was worried about publishing a children’s book, but every time someone buys it I get excited. We definitely haven’t hit any high sales, but I did it. I have an author page on Amazon and GoodReads and that’s pretty fucking cool.

I’m going to be more chill about things and try to worry less. Last year saw a lot of growth in my therapy for OCD. I want to continue to work on that and become less anxious. It’ll be what it’ll be.

And, lastly…

I want to be myself, again. Motherhood is hard and you end up losing yourself along the way. While I’ll never be the same person I was two years ago, I can do the things that I enjoy. Which means a trip to Paris with friends, no husband or child (something I’ve excited and nervous for!). It means making cute outfits just for the grocery store. It means indulging in things I used to love (like ordering a FabFitFun box, again. I stopped because products contained palm oil, but it looks like they’ve moved to cleaner products. We will see how it goes). It means working out, going outside more, gardening, and meditating.

We need to let our minds wander a bit as creative souls. Being so ‘ON’ all the time is exhausting. If we don’t get bored every so often, or quiet our thoughts down, how are we going to pick out the good ones?

So, I’m going to focus on letting my mind wander. I’m going to do things just because they bring me unfettered joy. I’m going to post things and not worry about if it’s rambling or stupid or if anyone will read it. Because it feels right. Hopefully, something exciting comes out of it all. And, if not, at least I’ll be beyond happy.

Categories
Life

Are we Obsessed with Working Harder, Longer, More Often?

Photo by energepic.com on Pexels.com

Or, is it just a Millennial thing?

Am I doing too much? Or, not enough? These two thoughts bounce around my head constantly. Whether it comes to parenting, managing the house, or my own personal work projects. Creative projects, sorry.

Sometimes, or rather, most of the time, it feels like I’m drowning in everything that I have to do. Splitting time up between moming, keep the house somewhat clean and organized, doing a little bit of work, doing a little bit of something I like to do to relax, and trying to keep up with this crazy world we call the internet.

When I first started blogging, it seemed so simple, so easy. I started making okay money on Medium, thinking I’ll run into some pretty-damn-good-let’s-quit-my-job money. That, obviously, did not happen. Because, the writing world exploded with people who didn’t care about writing, but cared about clickbait and made a living that way. Not for me.

Anyways.

Everything seemed so simple back then. I was freelancing and making some money. I had a job that was paying me decent. I didn’t have a child. I had tons of freedom, time, and disposable income. Now, I’m in a very different situation. Living my life as a stay at home mom, yet trying to do a bit of writing on the side and make a little bit of an income. Because being poor? I’m not into it. Not for me. I want that disposable income.

So, I’m trying everything, all at once. I scrapped my old blog, and started a new one (this bad boy you’re reading on) for the only reason because the first didn’t serve me, anymore. I threw away subscribers and followers and page views that were careening towards really great. I was making a small amount of money from my blog, and yet I didn’t care. It wasn’t for me, anymore, so I switched gears. I made 0.001cents four months ago. That’s it. I know it’s a long-game when you’re not writing clickbait, so I can breathe without passing out. But, it’s a pain in the ass.

I’ve also decided to take on personal writing projects and a bit of freelancing. I published a baby book with my friend as the illustrator , and then we published two more. (yes, hello, here is a link to all of them if you are so inclined to buy a copy)

While some may say that sounds like enough, I decided that it wasn’t and I’ve started a business with my friend, who also illustrated those children’s books. Curious as to what it is? Go have a look at Juniper and Oak Editing! I’m sure I’ll be talking about it more.

In the gig economy and reach for your stars motivation of Instagram and wherever else people get their information and jealousy from, the above sounds standard. Some days, it feels great. I’ve found that putting in tons of time into Medium gives me dick all, so I’ve stopped that. It’s now a place where I just word vomit and that’s enough for me.

My blog, my personal writing projects, those are for me. I’m writing them for people to connect with my words, for people to enjoy my content, not to explicitly make money (I mean, that’d be nice, right?). They feel like the ultimate side gig, though. Something that makes me happy, but can generate money.

So, why not add a business onto my busy-enough life? Seems logical.

From what I’ve been seeing on Instagram, the week later Tik Tok, it seems like this type of thinking is engrained in our Millennial brains. Boomers be off booming. Gen X works hard, but also plays hard. Gen Z has learned the true meaning of boundaries. And, Millennials? Well, we’re stuck at the office cleaning up everyone else’s mess while the media says we’re the ones making it. We’re there to never say no, as our parents taught us not to ‘rock the boat’ and hold a strong work ethic.

But, what happens when that strong work ethic is a bit too strong? That we want to people please, and do a great job, and be the first one in the office, and follow our dreams, and have some peaceful mental health, and go on great vacations? Burn. Out.

I’ve written about this before, but it was always about everything in life.

Toxic Motivation is Running Some of us Into Complete Exhaustion

Now? What is this burn out that I’m feeling? It feels different than before because it doesn’t just hit every couple of weeks, but every damn day. I could easily say it’s probably something neurodivergent because the obsessive is slamming with the manic and it’s an absolute riot in my brain, but that’s not the whole story.

I feel like I’m not doing enough even though I’m doing absolutely everything I can. My friends, similar ages, feel like they’re not doing enough even though they’re doing absolutely everything they can. Moms in mom groups feel like they’re not doing enough even though they’re doing absolutely everything they can.

Perhaps it’s less of a Millennial thing and more of a female thing? Because what do you get when people are born at a time when there were strong gendered roles in the world, but also at a time of the emergence of more independent women, superhero women who can do it all, and the slow shy away from specified gendered roles? Women who feel like they should be able to do it all, and do it all alone, while still shouldering most of the ‘female specified’ roles in the household, child or not.

Maybe it’s time to take a page out of a Gen Zer and say ‘no, thanks’ to a few more things. Set more boundaries. Know that I can do it all, but for only a short amount of time, and anyone saying they can is kidding themselves, or missing a key piece of life. We always see rich older gentlemen in movies sitting on a pile of wealth, but less memories with families. They have it all in a money sense, but not the whole picture, and they can afford assistants and chefs and maids.

So, what’s a person to do who cannot afford such things? Starting building those walls.

And, no, not like that.

Put up those walls to form a few boundaries. Know that we don’t need to keep working every second of the day. Know that, while it feels like we didn’t do much in the day, it adds up to a whole hell of a lot. Know that a single work day doesn’t need to cram 10–12 hours of work into 5 hours. Know that we can take breaks and breathe and take a fucking step back.

Know that, while we can have strong work ethics and work hard, we can also have less toxic environments, even if they’re the environments we have created for ourselves in our heads. Because working longer, faster, harder all the time doesn’t get you everything in the end. It just gets you burned the fuck out.

Categories
Life

How Social Media Gave me a Breakdown and it’s all my Fault

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

By nature I’m a really angry person. Lots of things set me off, some of them big, a lot of them small. I’m a big believer in the ‘no worries and move on’ type of attitude, only if it doesn’t fuck with my plans. I’m basically an old man, swinging his fist at youths who dared to step onto my lawn. But in better clothes.

Often, my angry stems from the massive amounts of anxiety I have every day. Luckily, I’ve a great therapist to help me with this. I’m often trying to get my anxious thoughts under control, I’m trying to throw logic at my obsessive and obtrusive thoughts, which usually means I’ve little patience for anything to go wrong.

Usually, I can tamp that anger down, only snapping at those closest to me. The ones I can easily apologize to and explain why I’m so angry. The ones who will forgive me much more easily than anyone else. You know, how we all do. Like the assholes we are. A few weeks ago I couldn’t keep it in. I could barely handle everyday tasks, as any fuck up made my blood pressure spike.

As an educated perfectionist who is judgey as all fuck and too hard on herself, I can’t stand stupidity. Not stupidity in that someone just hasn’t learned something yet, or is taking a while to understand something. There is nothing wrong with trying to educate yourself or trying in life. Those people do not make me angry, they make me hopeful for the future.

I’m talking about the kind of stupidity that makes you question how humanity got so far in life. The type of stupidity exercised by the ‘Karen’s’ of the world. Of the ones who read headlines and form an opinion, screaming it into the internet world at the top of their lungs. Of the stupidity that comes from total ignorance in everything around you.

I’ve done some stupid things in life, and I’m sure I’ve been ignorant a time or two (or 10 or 50). The difference is that I don’t comment in hate-filled tones, degrading anyone around me. I leave that to my brain to whisper to myself, or confiding in my friends and let them tell me I’m being ridiculous or need to take a step back and re-evaluate. That’s the thing about growing up before the internet: I know how to not use it just for hate.

I’ve long been a comment reader on social media. Whenever I see a juicy headline, I excitedly read through the article, knowing of the fresh hell that will await me in the comments section. I can’t wait to open those gates to Hades and see what all the idiots out there have to say.

To say that gleeful obsession with ignorant and hurtful comments isn’t healthy is an understatement. I understand that I shouldn’t care, that I should move on with my own opinions, perhaps writing about them in a well-researched article, or at the very least, an article that isn’t riddled with such anger it muddles my vision and logic.

The last few months* have proven how awful humanity can be. It’s also proven how wonderful it is. Unfortunately, the awful part sticks out far more than the wonderful. Like everything else in my life, my brain started to obsess on these haters, these trolls, these douches. I needed to read their comments, follow their journey, watch as others easily took them down with eloquent wording and *gasp* facts and logic.

I got too far into it, reading too many comments, reading too much fear and anger and hatred out there. My brain started needing more while feeling like it couldn’t take on another grain of stupidity. I found myself angry at everything. I found myself wondering why humanity existed, why any of us should continue to live. I found myself wondering if life was worth it in the grand ol’ scheme of things, if this was what life was like.

Though not suicidal, the thoughts were dark enough to snap me into reality. Because, living for the comments section — even if only to see a troll being taken down — isn’t reality. It’s fucked up nonsense that we, as an entire society, have begun to obsess over.

I couldn’t handle reading anything, anymore. I didn’t want to talk to friends in case I became irrationally angry. I looked for therapists to help me with my anger, yet had to wait for far too long to find one. I had broken down because of social media. Not only did that make me angry, but it made me sad. There wasn’t any reasoning for it. It was something that could easily be controlled in my life, that I didn’t have to look at, but was obsessively scrolling through.

The simple thing to do would be to just stop reading. Stop reading the news. Stop reading the comments. Take a little break. Which I did. I am a BIG fan of a news cleanse every so often. But, when you’ve already lost faith in humanity it’s hard to crawl back to the surface, to the light.

I’ve stopped engaging in social media or looking at the comments on news outlets. I slip up a time or two, my hands getting jittery when I read an exceptional piece from one of my favourite news outlets. But, I’ve learned my lesson. Nothing good can come of it and life isn’t a comments section, filled with hateful people. Rarely, are facts or reasoning found there. The poison is out there, bolded and in italics, because they’re louder than the rest.

I’ve learned my lesson that some people can be the absolute worst, but that I don’t need them in my life. Of course I’m still angry at stupidity, but in a much more sensible way. Now, when something infuriating happens, my brain doesn’t feel like it’s about to explode. I can take a breath and look at whether it really matters in the grand scheme of things, or if it’s just time to smile and move on.

*Fun fact: I wrote this a while ago. Turns out, humanity just keeps getting more and more awful as we revert back to the ‘good old days’ of absolute terror and awfulness.

Categories
Life

5 Self-Care Rituals to Get you Through the Holidays

The holidays can be a stressful time of year; there are parties to go to, nails and hair to get done, dresses to buy, presents to find, and still our regular day-to-day activities to do. That’s a lot in just a short month. Why do we do this to our self each and every year? If you haven’t yet learned how to say no to all those parties and get-togethers (it’s so much harder than you think!), then taking time for yourself will help you not lose your damn mind.

Meditate
Yes, this is on my list and everyone else’s self-care list and everything wonderful you can do by yourself because IT WORKS. I have high anxiety (have you noticed?) and severe migraines and just the simple act of breathing helps. But, sitting there and just breathing isn’t going to work.

Find a comfortable spot to sit so you’re either cross-legged (like on a yoga mat. If you have tight hips like I do, use a blanket, block, or bolster to get your hips off the ground and for a better feel) or sitting in a chair with your feet flat on the ground.

Put your palms face down on either of your knees.

Close your eyes and focus only on yourself.

Breathe in through your nostrils, letting your whole body fill with air. Breathe in deeply and slowly so that your stomach, chest and ribs expand to let in your breath.

Breathe out through your nostrils slowly, paying attention to how your chest will fall first, then your stomach.

Focus on your body filling with air, expanding and contracting as you let your breath out.

If you are having trouble focusing on your breath and need a little something extra to quiet your mind (believe me, it’s hard!), focus on a glowing orb in your body. As you breathe in, it travels up from your belly, up your spine and to your head. As you breathe out, it will travel down from your head to your chest, then your belly, again, completing a full circle.

Don’t worry if you can’t sit and focus only on your breathing. Some days are harder than others and it’s hard to focus inwards on your first try. Either set a timer to break you out of your meditation (go for a light alarm instead of the usual blasting one that gets you out of bed in the mornings) or breathe until you feel content, light, and relaxed.

Mask it Up
You’re stressed. So your skin is probably pissed at you and acting out in ways you thought were over when you were 16. This one works two-fold in self-care. You’re going to get the benefits of your face mask AND the benefits of sitting still and relaxing as you let that beautiful clay sink into your skin. Double up your relaxation by adding that mask to your face when you’re in a bath. I’ve been taking baths 2-3x a week, now, instead of showers and I’m feeling so good. It gives me 20 minutes by myself (before my daughter comes screaming in demanding her bath), I add Epsom salts for my muscles and migraines, and read.

Read
Before you go thinking this is a dumb way to self-care, hear me out! When was the last time you picked up a book and read it just for fun? Some of you are probably saying ‘duh, like every day’ while a lot of you are failing to make eye contact. Guaranteed you’re either working your butt off to shatter those glass ceilings, making sure your house doesn’t fall apart, watching Netflix, or scrolling through your phone. None of those things are at ALL relaxing. Hello, have we heard of this fucked up thing called blue-light? Listen, ever since I started my evening routine, I’ve started feeling way more relaxed and calm, letting me fall asleep earlier, faster and better. What’s a major part of that evening routine? Reading!

Grab a book and start reading. It’ll make you sit down and concentrate on only ONE THING, the book in front of you. If you’re finding that you’re re-reading sentences more than once and not understanding what’s going on (free pass if you’re reading Tolstoy…does anyone ever know what’s going on there?), head on back up to the first tip and grab a meditation session to clear your head.

Take 5 Minutes
Just five minutes! That’s barely any time at all! Take those five minutes, whenever you feel the most need for them. Whether it’s sitting and enjoying your coffee in the morning, instead of chugging it down, reading an article you normally wouldn’t indulge in, a really quick yoga practice, or simply just calling someone you love (although, this could end up being way more than 5 minutes). Take the 5 minutes to indulge in yourself.

Walk or Exercise
Yeah, I know it’s cold out and it’s not the time to go gallivanting in a forest (except it’s so beautiful!). But! Getting outside into that fresh air will make you feel so much better about everything around you. Simply going for a walk around the block, out into your yard, or for a full day’s hike in nature will set you back to that feeling of quiet content. Often, just standing on my deck and taking in a few big, deep, mindful breaths gets me feeling right again.

Categories
Travel Stories

The City That Calls to Me

Photo by K2 Production on Pexels.com

Why is it that everyone wants to write about Paris? That artists, both from Hemingway and the Fitzgeralds to Jay Z, flock to the area? Is it the artistic glamour that is found all over the city? The calm that washes over you as you sit in café, sipping a café au lait, people watching or gazing out into the Seine from your perch on the banks? The awe felt at the dedication to keeping history preserved and integrated into daily life (even if that preservation pays off in millions of tourist dollars pouring in) with their apartments from the 1500’s?

Or, maybe it’s the fashion, the alcohol, the food, the undertones of glitz and glamour in this city. There’s something about Paris: you can be in the dirtiest part town and see someone dressed impeccably well and feel that they are well-read and well-versed in life’s affairs.  It’s the idea that anyone can look beautiful in Paris, no matter the budget.

A Parisian woman can save for years to buy her first Chanel bag, channeling an inner beauty with her black cigarette pants, loafers, white blouse, her hair slightly a mess and no make-up (save for maybe a little mascara or a bit of rouge). Her look is simple, most likely cheap (minus that Chanel bag) with a lot of her items bought at the Monoprix down the street, and yet, it’s an iconic look. A look that millions of women all over the world will spend thousands of dollars trying to replicate. But, replicating something pure and beautiful is never possible.


The fashion and understated glamour is an undercurrent running through Paris, but for those who have been there, you know it’s more than that. It’s a decadent lifestyle that seems to take little effort. The tiny, cramped apartments are more than just a funny story to tell friends back home, more than that stereotypical lifestyle that is so prominent in movies. It’s part of the yearning for something more than just material, more than large homes and clutter.

Living in a minuscule apartment while owning Louis Vuitton, Dior, or Chanel is something of a Parisian right.  Spending liberally on high quality items, be them cheeses, chocolates, wines, or clothing is always the right move with Parisians. It’s always the desire that is important, the need for the purest form, the creativity unleashed in every mundane aspect of the city; you’re always dressing for lifestyle in Paris, never for comfort and ease.

The most splendid apartments are large and baroque in their finishings with gilded gold throughout, but they’re not of the monstrous mansions you will find in L.A. or the many-leveled marbled apartments in New York. Even the most decadent things in Paris are simple.


So, that’s it, right? Artists, although they may not all admit it to themselves, love the decadence. Why else would you sit in front of a computer, a notebook, or a typewriter, banging out the ideas in your head? There’s something so egotistical about being a writer, an artist, that it’s nearly comical. We say we hate the spotlight, we’d rather be on the sidelines, and when it comes to showcasing our work we can be as shy as a preschooler on her first day. But, the glamour of life gets to us. The royalties come in, the attention is doted upon us, the drinking until 4am isn’t just to survive anymore – it’s to celebrate.

What is more decadent than putting your thoughts onto any type of medium, bringing a little bit of you, piece by piece, into the spotlight and thrusting it into viewers faces – making them wonder over which character is the true novelist, what part of the painting is the artist, and if that song is the beginning or end of a great love felt by the singer.


When I look out my window I see trees. Trees and the great expanse of a prairie horizon. There is no glitz and glamour out here; instead, I find myself the most attentive to my actions and the most calm and meditative when in nature. There’s something soothing about being amongst living things that have lived for millions of years, surviving each and every type of apocalyptic problem. Growing back after the atrocities and becoming even stronger. The freshness to the air leaves a crisp feeling both inside and out.

But, the sound of the Parisian streets beats in my heart, the laughter, chatter and tinkling of cups and plates in a café coarse through my bloodstream. The city calls to me, to my inner artistic ego. There is a yearning, a strong and faithful plea to come back to the city that makes me feel the most alive. A burning desire, one you can compare to that of missing a lover.

Although I feel far-removed from it all and this is where I’ll stay, the glitz and the glamour, the ability to wear an absolutely breathtaking outfit no matter the time of the day, gets to me. The belief that any type of artistic dream is possible when you are within the city’s borders. The hope is alive, much like for those actors still slinging coffees in the local Starbucks in L.A., clinging to the hope that one day, maybe, they’ll be able to reach the Stars and live amongst them as an equal.

Categories
Life

Are you Afraid of Success?

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

It’s what we’re all reaching for: success. It’s why we make goals, why we #hustle everything, why we need the fancy desk because we’re all going to be #bossbabes. Sorry, I cringed when I wrote out that hashtag, probably as hard as you cringed reading it. Whatever you call yourself (hey, maybe just boss instead of boss babe?), you’re gearing up for success. It doesn’t matter what success looks like to you. 

Except, what if you keep stopping yourself? What if you make out all of these plans, plan out all of these goals, start working on them, and then just run head first into a wall? This keeps happening to me, time and time again. I feel great, I do great, I’m chugging along and eating up those goals like Ms. Pacman on a bender. And, then I stop. Something inside of me stops me before I can go further. I claim it to be laziness, but I’ve gotten this far with my laziness, so why can’t I go a few extra steps? A week behind schedule is just fine, right?

Not when that week turns into two. Then, turns into a month. Then, turns into a year — or more. If you’re continuing with other activities, other projects and hobbies, then it’s not laziness that’s keeping you rooted to the spot, it has to be something else. Are you afraid of success? I sure as fuck am. 

We scream at the top of our lungs, happy and joyous for anyone meeting their goals. We hammer home how important it is to keep to-do lists, to check up on them every so often, make sure you’re still on track. We tell everyone that tweaking goals is essential to growing. It’s what we all want, what we all aim for, but it can seem daunting to actually make it. To be a success. To reach those goals and dreams you dreamed up long ago. 

If there’s one more thing you could be doing to reach your goals, to get you closer to your dreams so that you can snatch them out of the sky, would you actually do it? What’s stopping you from going that extra mile, or hell, even a few steps? You’ve come this far, so what gives? The fear of failure far outweighs the fear of success. Because, isn’t that why we’re afraid of success in the first place? We’re all just afraid we’re going to go for it and fail?

We probably will fail. We will fail a time or two, as only the Chosen Few don’t. It’s okay to fail. It’s okay to make mistakes. All you have to do is get up, brush the dirt off your knees and go around that mistake. It can take years and many mistakes to make it to where you want to be, and that’s okay. It’s okay to take our time and learn and grow. It’s okay to be vulnerable and put ourselves out there, even as we worry that people will laugh and point and judge us as we make these mistakes. It feels like the whole world will be laughing when you declare your dreams and they declare them a pipe dream, rolling their eyes in your face. It will feel like you’re being cut down before your prime, before you get to even move towards your prime, and if you stay where you are, that’s exactly what will happen to you. 

Having a simple life is well and good. I yearn for a simple life. A simple life full of lavish vacations and a killer wardrobe, and delicious food, but a simple…ish life nonetheless. Wanting to stay where you are because you like where you are is so different from staying rooted to the gound because you are too afraid to move. 

I’m not sure how I’ll work past this success fear of mine. Perhaps, I’ll go at it a day at a time, a small goal at a time, going a little slower than anticipated, but moving in the right direction. That hasn’t really been working for me all these years, though. Maybe it all comes down to self-love and realizing that you’re worth the sacrifices you sometimes have to make, that you’re worth chasing your dreams and being happy. Maybe you have to ignore the end goal and just keep working until you stumble upon it one morning. Most likely, it’s all of the above. 

I know that I’ll still be afraid, afraid to push myself to the next level, afraid of what comes next. What if I become too successful and turn into an asshole? What if I make it and realize that I’ve made a horrible mistake? What if there is too much change and, being someone who can’t handle change, I become anxious and too stressed to enjoy my success? These are all too many ‘what ifs’ with far too many variables. There’s no way I can control all of them, no matter how hard I try. 

I’ve still felt success, even though I’m not successful in the grand scheme of things, even though I’m not successful in the eyes of the world. I felt that success when one of my favourite writers commented on my work. When I made my first penny (literally pennies) on my work. When a stranger got excited about the ideas I put out there. Those are all successes, and I came through unscathed. I made it. Perhaps it’s about time I let go of all of these silly ‘what ifs’ and think of my big goals as the same as those stepping stones to get there: a success I can handle. 

Categories
Life

Let’s Talk About our Obsession with Weight

Photo by SHVETS production on Pexels.com

There are people at work who exasperate you with their stupidity, there are people at work whom you love, and there’s always, always that one woman who counts calories and wants the world to know it. Recently, a woman at work and I were talking about cake. Seems innocent enough. Cake is delicious and is usually brought out to celebrate, so what could be the problem? She was wondering why I didn’t head into the lunch room to grab a slice of cake. I stated a simple ‘not wanting anything sweet right now’, hoping that would be enough. It wasn’t. Obviously. This is a work place and even throughout a pandemic, people are continuously forcing cake onto you, and wondering just what in the fuck you’re thinking not taking any.

I went through my whole spiel on how I’m not having any because sugar is a huge cause of my migraines, so I try to cut down on all junk foods. She then launched into how she has cut out breads and sugars from her entire life and now cannot eat her yogurt and berries tonight because she had a slice of cake today. Let’s ignore the part about her not being able to eat plain yogurt with berries for a minute, just because she ate some cake. It’s absolutely ridiculous, since berries and yogurt, if not loaded with sugar, are actually very good for you, but not the point that is most annoying.

The part that really stuck in my craw was the one that she’s often stressing out about: food. Or, rather, the idea that food is the enemy. Which, isn’t true as I’ve learned on my migraine journey. I’ve been using food to heal myself, instead of thinking of it as something to be angry with, to avoid. It’s changed my whole viewpoint on certain foods and made me wonder how we fell down this rabbit hole of hating the very thing that fuels our bodies.

After she finished her spiel on how she constantly ‘falls off the wagon’ and is always losing and gaining that same 25 lbs over the years, I was ready to get back to my work. But, feeling like this was a teachable moment on how food ISN’T the absolute worst thing to be feared, I told her how I don’t cut anything completely out of my life and that’s how I’ve been able to eat far healthier than I ever have before without suddenly turning into an all-consuming monster of junk food and snacks for months on end.

I’m no doctor, but I can guess the reason why she was constantly having trouble with her weight: starvation. I saw this woman, someone who is old enough to know better, bring an egg to work for lunch most days, then eating it in the morning because she skipped breakfast, then only to go out and buy lunch. Then, only to complain about how hungry and tired she was all the time and how she wasn’t losing the weight she wanted to.

Oh, really? I never would’ve guessed that working out obsessively and starving your body would lead someone to be tired and feel like absolute crap.

Until recently, this woman never stated she was doing any of the above to be healthy, but because she was fat. Don’t worry, she still thinks she’s a monster in size, but she’s just trying to be healthier this time around. This woman isn’t fat by any type of standard, except the own insanity in her own mind. I’m sure she was out of shape and not eating properly, but fat? Naw, we can’t state that. Instead of eating a balanced diet and exercising, she went full tilt, which always leads to rebounds. One of my favourite nutritionists on Instagram (Bonnie Roney, RD (@diet.culture.rebel) • Instagram photos and videos) always posts about how diets have been around for so long, and yet, everyone isn’t perfectly skinny and healthy and happy.

Because they’re just not sustainable.

Rebounds happen. You call your ex. You can’t make it through Sober November. You eat an entire cake and then a whole sleeve of cookies after not eating any sweets for weeks. It happens.

Our obsession with how much we weigh, instead of how healthy we are, and our negative thoughts about ourselves, our physical appearances, has gotten out of hand. While #bodypositivity is trending and slowly changing the landscape, it’s still not enough. Mainly skinny women telling everyone to love the bodies they have, it’s more of a kick to the teeth than an emotional hug. Skinny women, of course, should be proud of their bodies, and they do receive a lot of flack for promoting body positivity, which isn’t fair. But, when all you see is someone in great — or relatively good — shape telling you that bodies are beautiful, it’s frustrating as all hell.

When these perfect looking models promote body positivity, they’re met with a lot of praise from most people. Yes, you should love your stretch marks! Yes, all scars are beautiful! Yes, cellulite and pimples happen! Except, flip this. Put a fat chick in there and the internet goes buck fucking wild. She’s promoting unhealthy choices. She hates skinny women. She’s telling girls that being fat is okay, even if you’re unhealthy.

Which is total, complete, bullshit.

Our weight doesn’t automatically mean that we are healthy or unhealthy.

Let’s talk about BMI, something my co-worker also brought up in this talk that put me over the edge, shall we? Body Mass Index has been around for awhile and is a tool used to measure just how healthy or unhealthy you are. And, sure, if you’re weighing over 300 lbs, you’re most likely not doing too well health wise, depending on your frame and muscle mass and all that good stuff. But, there’s a HUGE but here…and maybe a huge butt…we’ve started to use this as a way to tout how healthy skinny bodies are.

We’ve also just kept on using it as a way to determine this even though it is highly, highly flawed.

Which, again, is total, complete, bullshit.

Skinny does not automatically mean healthy. I’ve got two examples where we can call bullshit on skinny equaling healthy. Let’s start with my father-in-law. Now, this man is hella healthy. He can outrun, outbike, outswim, out-fucking-anything-athletic me. Even if we swap my body out for the body I had when I was in tip top shape, he could still go toe-to-toe with me today. He is 40 years older (rockin’ his 70s). He eats incredibly well, and has for years. My husband complains about how they were forced to eat tofu for suppers, and rarely had boxed meals or sugary cereals. He looks like the poster-person for healthy living, right down to his skinny body.

But…this man has extremely high cholesterol. So much so that he has specific plant sterol margarine that he buys and avoids a lot of foods, or can only eat very little of them. Looking at him, you’d think ‘damn, this guy has to be as healthy as they come’, and he is for the most part. But, it’s not as eclipsing as everyone claims skinny people are/should be. I’m sure his BMI is perfect, although, I honestly can’t say I know for sure.

Let’s move onto my second example. Surprise! It’s me! Or, rather, high school me. I remember, quite distinctly, getting our BMI measured in high school. Thinking I was going to nail this, I didn’t bat an eye when the measurements were taken. I walked a lot, I went for runs, I played sports, I ate…okay. My parents fed me relatively healthy meals, also without boxed or sugary cereals most of the time, but I was 15, so McDonald’s was a delicious treat instead of a fail (now, I’ve learned it’s still a delicious treat and not a fail, but damn, did it take me years to get there). The measurements were taken and I was declared…obese.

I almost cried. Maybe I did later, thinking about being shamed about my body, who can remember. I do remember feeling shamed that my BMI was too high and that I was considered obese. My stomach was flat, I was in incredible shape, what more could I do?

Fucking nothing.

Because BMI, and your weight, is complete bullshit as the sole indicator on whether or not you are a healthy human being.

At the time I wrote this, I was the largest I’ve been, give or take 5 lbs. I’m not obese by any true standards, I still fit a size 12 pants/dress, which doesn’t put me into the plus sized section, but I’m sure my BMI would be so high that doctors who only believe in such bullshit would faint. I also get some exercise (though I’m working on adding more to my routine. Turns out, you can’t just jump into high intensity cardio after years of 5–10+ migraines a month), I eat pretty fucking healthy, and have cut junk food out of my life. Not fully because I’m not a psycho, but I don’t eat a bag of chips to feel better, or nom on chocolate bars just because I’m bored, and I can say no to free cake at work just because I don’t feel like it anymore.

Right now, I feel healthy. I feel amazing. I feel the best I ever have. And yet, by society’s standards, I’m a fat piece of garbage that should be dying from health issues. Because of what I look like, what that scale is telling me. My neurologist once told me if I lost weight I could have less migraines. Well, I haven’t lost much weight and I’m having less migraines, so could it be that the actual weight — and not the healthy choices made — doesn’t 100% matter?

My step mother-in-law moved a scale into the cabin bathroom because she, apparently, wants us all to hate ourselve while we laze and hike and sun away our troubles at the lake. I made the mistake of stepping onto that scale one weekend and I’ve been horrified ever since. Horrified of a number that doesn’t mean much if my blood pressure is good, my heart is happy, my body is full of vitamins from healthy veggies and fruits, my brain feels great, and everything is working like it should. Yet, I feel like my body isn’t worthy of this amazing feeling because it’s chubby, it’s flabby in areas and just okay in others.

Let’s change the perception that fat people are unhealthy simply because they are fat. Let’s start talking about healthy choices, healthy foods, and exercise. Let’s talk about how food isn’t the enemy and having those chips, when you’re craving them, and having those sweets, when you’re wanting them, is okay. Let’s put away the starvation diets, the cleanses, really, the anything diets. Let’s start loving our bodies and accepting their flaws with the good bits. Let’s start being nicer to ourselves and ignore what a number on a scale says. We’re better than that.

Categories
Life

Social Media Led me to a Breakdown and it’s All my Fault

Photo by Prateek Katyal on Pexels.com

By nature I’m a really angry person. Lots of things set me off, some of them big, a lot of them small. I’m a big believer in the ‘no worries and move on’ type of attitude, only if it doesn’t fuck with my plans. I’m basically an old man, swinging his fist at youths who dared to step onto my lawn. But in better clothes.

Often, my angry stems from the massive amounts of anxiety I have every day. Luckily, I’ve a great therapist to help me with this. I’m often trying to get my anxious thoughts under control, I’m trying to throw logic at my obsessive and obtrusive thoughts, which usually means I’ve little patience for anything to go wrong.

Usually, I can tamp that anger down, only snapping at those closest to me. The ones I can easily apologize to and explain why I’m so angry. The ones who will forgive me much more easily than anyone else. You know, how we all do. Like the assholes we are. A few weeks ago I couldn’t keep it in. I could barely handle everyday tasks, as any fuck up made my blood pressure spike.

As an educated perfectionist who is judgey as all fuck and too hard on herself, I can’t stand stupidity. Not stupidity in that someone just hasn’t learned something yet, or is taking a while to understand something. There is nothing wrong with trying to educate yourself or trying in life. Those people do not make me angry, they make me hopeful for the future.

I’m talking about the kind of stupidity that makes you question how humanity got so far in life. The type of stupidity exercised by the ‘Karen’s’ of the world. Of the ones who read headlines and form an opinion, screaming it into the internet world at the top of their lungs. Of the stupidity that comes from total ignorance in everything around you.

I’ve done some stupid things in life, and I’m sure I’ve been ignorant a time or two (or 10 or 50). The difference is that I don’t comment in hate-filled tones, degrading anyone around me. I leave that to my brain to whisper to myself, or confiding in my friends and let them tell me I’m being ridiculous or need to take a step back and re-evaluate. That’s the thing about growing up before the internet: I know how to not use it just for hate.

I’ve long been a comment reader on social media. Whenever I see a juicy headline, I excitedly read through the article, knowing of the fresh hell that will await me in the comments section. I can’t wait to open those gates to Hades and see what all the idiots out there have to say.

To say that gleeful obsession with ignorant and hurtful comments isn’t healthy is an understatement. I understand that I shouldn’t care, that I should move on with my own opinions, perhaps writing about them in a well-researched article, or at the very least, an article that isn’t riddled with such anger it muddles my vision and logic.

The last few months* have proven how awful humanity can be. It’s also proven how wonderful it is. Unfortunately, the awful part sticks out far more than the wonderful. Like everything else in my life, my brain started to obsess on these haters, these trolls, these douches. I needed to read their comments, follow their journey, watch as others easily took them down with eloquent wording and *gasp* facts and logic.

I got too far into it, reading too many comments, reading too much fear and anger and hatred out there. My brain started needing more while feeling like it couldn’t take on another grain of stupidity. I found myself angry at everything. I found myself wondering why humanity existed, why any of us should continue to live. I found myself wondering if life was worth it in the grand ol’ scheme of things, if this was what life was like.

Though not suicidal, the thoughts were dark enough to snap me into reality. Because, living for the comments section — even if only to see a troll being taken down — isn’t reality. It’s fucked up nonsense that we, as an entire society, have begun to obsess over.

I couldn’t handle reading anything, anymore. I didn’t want to talk to friends in case I became irrationally angry. I looked for therapists to help me with my anger, yet had to wait for far too long to find one. I had broken down because of social media. Not only did that make me angry, but it made me sad. There wasn’t any reasoning for it. It was something that could easily be controlled in my life, that I didn’t have to look at, but was obsessively scrolling through.

The simple thing to do would be to just stop reading. Stop reading the news. Stop reading the comments. Take a little break. Which I did. I am a BIG fan of a news cleanse every so often. But, when you’ve already lost faith in humanity it’s hard to crawl back to the surface, to the light.

I’ve stopped engaging in social media or looking at the comments on news outlets. I slip up a time or two, my hands getting jittery when I read an exceptional piece from one of my favourite news outlets. But, I’ve learned my lesson. Nothing good can come of it and life isn’t a comments section, filled with hateful people. Rarely, are facts or reasoning found there. The poison is out there, bolded and in italics, because they’re louder than the rest.

I’ve learned my lesson that some people can be the absolute worst, but that I don’t need them in my life. Of course I’m still angry at stupidity, but in a much more sensible way. Now, when something infuriating happens, my brain doesn’t feel like it’s about to explode. I can take a breath and look at whether it really matters in the grand scheme of things, or if it’s just time to smile and move on.

*Fun fact: I wrote this a while ago. Turns out, humanity just keeps getting more and more awful as we revert back to the ‘good old days’ of absolute terror and awfulness.

Categories
Life

Before you Reach for Those Greener Pastures, Make Sure They’re Actually Greener

Photo by u041du0430u0434u0438u043d u041du0430u0434u0438u043d on Pexels.com

There’s been a sudden shift in the way people are viewing housing and lifestyles. We seem to be either going completely urban, easy to walk to everything, no need for a car, tons of nightlife, or we go the complete opposite and leave for bigger skies. A mad exodus from clogged up cities for small town living and country skies. You know, living the simple life. Which Paris and Nicole taught us isn’t so simple.

For me, it has been that simple. I love it. I love that people are waking up sleepy towns and making them thrive again, but is it actually right for them? For you?

It’s always the small town that wins over the heroine or hero in romance novels or blessedly typical Hallmark Christmas movies. The city is portrayed as the villain, the busyness of life worse than death. The picturesque towns look inviting and like it would win you over thousands of followers on Instagram in seconds, but there is a reason why people leave them for the city.

Living outside of the city comes with way less of those conveniences city life will have you accustomed to. It means no delivery, no app ordering, limited internet (until Elon Musk changes it all), and quiet — very quiet — nights.

For some, this sounds like a blissful oasis that they get to call their home. I’m that some. But, it was a huge adjustment to go from just picking up a little something on the way home to realizing that there arne’t too many options close by and I have to — gasp! — actually eat what’s in my fridge.

Country living, or even suburban living, isn’t for everyone. It takes a while to get home, there’s a lot less to do right around the corner. The lots are bigger, which means yay the lots are bigger! But, also means boo that’s more work.

No, buses dont run through (but they really should).

No, you won’t have a great grocery store, or one to begin with. It also means you won’t have a fancy cheese shop, a bakery (but plenty of old ladies who will be willing to teach you how to bake!), or a nice wine store.

Yeah, there may only be one bar and only a couple of restaurants.

Yeah, it may take you 5 minutes to drive through main street of town — and that’s hitting all the lights.

If that sounds like a nightmare, why move? Small town living has been romanticized, but it’s still the same as it always was. Boring, quiet, gossip-filled. That’s not going to change, even if people leave the city in droves for an idyllic life set amongst rolling hills and grazing cattle.

If you love open spaces, tractor meet-ups and jams, and crave slow mornings without Costco parking lots, small town living may be for you.

If you don’t care about clubbing or fancy restaurants or much of entertainment than the old dive bar and maybe a movie theater, if your town is big enough, then small town living may be for you.

But, if you’re going to miss these things, miss them from your regular weekend nights (taking the pandemic out of the equation), then why move? Why leave the things that make you most happy?

Maybe, instead of moving and looking for that simpler life, why not strive to live a simpler life where you still enjoy things? You can go simple by making changes to your life inside the city. You can get back in touch with nature with a garden, even if it’s small and hanging off a balcony or a windowsill. You can learn how to bake and cook, and go ‘old school’ with your way of thinking. You can take the things you like about country living, which might be the slow living bit, and do that from where you are. Live a little simpler, live a little slower, enjoy the little things. Make your life what you want it; you can do this without uprooting your whole life. Because that may not be the best option for you.

The same goes for jobs. We keep changing and switching things up, looking for better places that fit our needs, and that’s great. We should be trying to find the right fit for ourselves, we should be paid what we deserve to be, but what if that greener grass is more of a browny green? What if it’s filled with weeds and is kind of thorny? What if it looks good on paper and seemed great when you first went in and now it’s starting to feel a bit…blah? Are you still looking for even greener grass? Are you looking for that perfect, over-use of chemical golf-course green?

We keep pushing for things to be perfect, looking for that perfect work-life balance that we aren’t thinking about how to make it happen in our own worlds. Maybe living a simpler life is best before moving you and your whole family outside of the city. Maybe staying at the same job can still work if you asked for a raise or broach the subject of working from home. Maybe it won’t. But, it’s better to try living the life you want, where you are right now, before you reach for something that you’ve romanticized into a fairytale.

Why are we always chasing better things? Are they actually better? To some, of course they are. Just like to me living outside the city is much better than living inside, for a lot of people who move outside of the city for that ‘country living’ hate it. Because it’s not like the movies, it’s not like you would expect it to be. Everything isn’t necessarily better, it’s just different, and that’s what makes it better for some and worse for others.

Better for a lot of people means more bike paths and walking paths. While others would rather have roads fixed so that their drive isn’t a bumpy mess. I guess it’s why we don’t get to decide, exactly, where our money goes when we pay taxes. I would want to pay for different things than my friends and neighbours would want to pay for and they would want to pay for different things than their friends and neighbours would want to pay for. We’d never get anything done because we would be arguing too much about it, allocating too small amounts of money to each issue.

Moving to another city may be the perfect change for you; you may have gotten a better job, you may like the vibe much more, you may have better access to community events. It could also mean it won’t be good. And, that’s okay. People’s lives look different from one another’s, people’s interests are different from one another’s. We don’t all have to be chasing greener pastures; we can just sit here and realize that we, probably, have it pretty damn good where we are.