Category: Life

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Life

What I Learned from 2 Weeks Without Internet

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A few years ago, we lost our internet connection. At first, I was beyond pissed. When your passion and your income relies on the internet, it is incredibly frustrating to lose that connection. While I relish my mornings and evenings spent away from my phone and all things social media, and absolutely revel in my time spent without the use of wifi at the lake, having it snatched away from me was awful. Then I realized that I was feeling angry and frustrated and annoyed, not because my family or I were having any health issues or problems, but because I didn’t have the internet. That’s it. The internet.

That thought caused me to think about our absolute dependence on this. I’m on my phone quite a lot, but not near as much as most others (at least, according to magazine and newspaper articles touting our complete dependence on phones, right up until bed). My weekend mornings rarely start with my phone and I try to end my evenings with, at least, an hour free of screen time (that means the TV, too). *I wrote this post a long time ago, and since then, lots has changed. I’ve been using my phone, and TV, a lot more to wind down since having a child, probably hitting close to that range those magazines and newspaper articles have*

But, I was still completely dependent on my phone, even without total access to the internet. I would pick it up to check it, even though I knew no notifications were coming through. I’d absentmindedly open up Instagram or Pinterest to scroll through, only to realize that I was ripping through my data like nobody’s business. And, I needed to keep that data for my blog and my work. Working from home doesn’t exactly work so well when you can’t work from home. It’s just not the same to have to scoot on over to a friend’s house, or even make myself into a cliché in Starbucks, writing away on my laptop. Or, even scarier, a notebook and pen.

But, I got used to it. The first thing I noticed during my short time without wifi was that data turned back into something precious. Does anyone remember when phone plans didn’t come with text messaging? You got, maybe, 25 a month and that was considered a lot? You would then only have the smallest amount of data available to you, and that was saying a lot about your financial status as a lot of people still didn’t have a ‘smartphone’ aka pretty much any phone nowadays. No? No memories? Well, if you’re too young to remember this, our constant need to have our phones on us wasn’t normal and there were a lot more payphones around. Phone calls came through more often than a text message. Social media was something you’d log into on your home computer, and internet access wherever you went was only for those in Gossip Girl. Blackberry messenger eventually came along and changed the ways of texting, but data was still beyond precious. And, this is what I reverted back to.

No longer would I turn on Google Play, not caring if I was burning through my data on my plan (seriously, where did the unlimited data plans go?!). I didn’t have wifi at home so, now, every song was costing me money. Opening my phone in a vehicle didn’t seem so important anymore (the tickets and fines and death commercials don’t get you, but the fact that you’ll have to pay $5 more in data will…I’m ashamed of myself and society), and neither did taking my phone out when I was with friends or my husband.

It may have only been a few days into it, but I was already seeing a difference in my life as absolutely absurd as that sounds. I did a lot more things I thought I ‘didn’t have time for’ and my husband and I busted out the good ol’ DVD player and re-watched some classics. Who needs Netflix when you have boxes of DVD’s, complete with Undergrads, Clone High and the Golden Girls?  Our dependence on our smartphones and tablets and internet connection is crippling us. Having to forego the convenience in which we’ve become accustomed gets a little tiring, but then it also gets better. Yeah, it took a little longer to set things up just to watch a show or movie and we had to find cables that were finely coloured in dust, but it took only a day or two to get back into the old routine of things. And, I really liked it.

The most enlightening part of those weeks wasn’t that I was dependent on my phone (I knew that), but it was the fact that I never truly noticed how I felt when I was constantly connected. Now that I wasn’t, my mind felt clearer, I felt better, and I learned how to read for more than 10 minutes. I used to read a book a week, at least. My closet, living room, bedside table, and any other imaginable surface – including floors – is littered with books. While I still love reading, it has become harder to concentrate on anything longer than a page or two. Once I cleared my mind of quick reads and always googling to see what one word meant or who that actor was years ago, I could concentrate for longer.

I felt more free, as ridiculous as that sounds, and could think better. Hell, I could write better. Because I had to write. I couldn’t ignore my writing just because Instagram gave me a notification. I could let my mind wander and let the creativity blossom and come to me. Letting your mind wander can do wonders if you’ve ever gotten stuck and can’t figure out a problem, or have writer’s block, or just don’t know what your piece of artwork needs. That’s why taking a walk to ‘clear your head’ works. You’re letting go of all the stimulus around you and just letting your mind breathe.

We’ve let something that seemed so trivial, that people had once thought was a fad, become so ingrained in our life we feel empty without it. Phones are clutched to the chests of people while they sleep, afraid to let them go like they’re security blankets. They’re whipped out in the line at the grocery store, heaven forbid we have to wait more than 10 seconds without being entertained. This was another favourite part of this whole impromptu experiment. I loved to just sit and wait in line, watching the people around me, most of them with their noses to their screens, not paying attention to anyone or anything around them. I always tried to keep my phone in my purse while in line at the grocery store because I didn’t want to be that dick in line, holding people up or looking like a complete arse. Engaging with people around you, even if it’s just to smile at them, is so much better than making sure you sent that e-mail from the office, or double-checking nothing else exciting happened on social media.

I’ve been ragging quite a big on social media in this post, and that’s not what this is about. There are tons of things wrong with social media, but there are tons of things right. I love it for getting inspired for DIY creations, for places to travel, on just seeing pretty images floating by. And, by pretty, I means cats. So many animals on my feed. I love reading blog posts and hearing other people’s ideas and thoughts and rants and views on the world. I rub my hands together gleefully when I come across a particularly controversial article, keeping myself from skimming through just so I can get to the comments section at the bottom and read the complete chaos that always ensues. Maybe I’m a masochist. Who knows.

Social media isn’t the enemy, but how we use it, and our dependence on it is. I read an article a while back about how children under 5 shouldn’t have more than one hour of screen time a day. And, the article repulsed me. Not because of the writer’s words or that people were being told to tone down the screen time, but because we HAD to be told. For children. Not even middle school kids or teenagers, but children UNDER 5 YEARS OF AGE. Doesn’t that seem a bit ridiculous to you? That we’re handing our babies, our toddlers, tablets and phones and telling them to watch videos and play on a screen instead of outside or with simple objects around them. That we’re not letting them use their imagination to play and grow and learn. That we’re not thinking about the repercussions this is having on our children even though we hear countless things about how we, as adults, shouldn’t have screentime before bed, it affects this and that and that and this. If you want to read the article, click here.

*Update as a parent: my child actually DOES watch more than an hour of TV a day most days. BUT we also do all of the things above that I listed. We’ve become mindful of our screen time, in that I don’t limit myself, or her, in how long we watch it, but I watch it deliberately. Me reading (or, updating this post), while she watches TV in the morning and we both have our coffees – hers just plain oat milk with whipped cream, of course – is one of my favourite times of the day. While I’m not as shocked as I was about screen time before having kids, I’m still incorporating the play, the creativity, the outside, the FUN I had as a child*

If it’s affecting how their brains grow, then what is it doing to us? Just two weeks and I felt better, my mind felt clear and I more able to take on tasks. And, that’s just two weeks. I still used my phone, I didn’t revert back to the Stone Age, but I ignored it for most of the day.  My goal was to continue in this same fashion once we got our internet back, but only a week after it was back I was checking my phone more often, scrolling through Instagram while watching TV, and constantly feeling the need to be connected. Because like anything addicting, you get a rush when you start up again, lying to yourself that you’ve got it all under control. If you don’t believe me that your phone, the internet, social media is addictive, then put down your phone and count the number of times you reach for it.

If children’s screen time needs to be measured and monitored, then shouldn’t ours? I don’t need a study to tell me that excessive screen time is bad, I learned it. I know it. If I’m on my phone for extended periods of time, I will usually start to get a migraine. This means that excessive screen time affects my neurological condition. There are most likely other factors related to why I’m getting the migraine, as it doesn’t happen instantly, but I know that too much TV, too much time on my tablet, phone or computer can be a trigger for my neurological condition. I’m not a doctor or any health professional and can’t tell you that for certain. But, damn. Read those sentences, again.


Maybe it’s time we looked up from our phones and took in the world around us. I promise you, experiencing it in the moment rather than on social media is so much better.

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Life

Giving up on Gardening Means Giving up on Myself

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The last few years out in the garden have been rough. We’ve been experiencing a drought and with that comes many, many grasshoppers. I’ve had small sink holes open up in my garden from too dry dirt. I’ve had harsh rains, coming in bursts and then not again for days or weeks, spattering seeds out of their little soil homes. I’ve had those damn grasshoppers eat anything that I was feeling proud of, anything that withstood the harsh realities that is now the world.

Right now, my attention has been torn from the screen to my yard as I watch hundreds of black birds swirl around to land on the ground and eat all of the bugs that have plagued this garden for years. I am thankful for them as they munch, having a little feast. Only days before I was ready to spray my yard with every known chemical and then light it on fire just to make sure the grasshoppers would be gone.

Of course, that wouldn’t truly work. At least, not in the long run. If it did, we wouldn’t have pesticide resistant bugs out there ruining the landscape. Also, I’d kill all of the good bugs and birds and animals that I want to hang out in my yard. The ones that make an entire ecosystem and keep everything running, even the annoying ones.

Every year I’ve thought about just scrapping the garden altogether, and not worrying about such a pain in my ass. And, every year it feels like I’m losing a part of myself.

Throughout the years of gardening, I’ve become more attuned to the natural world, feeling the temperature and weather changes as my soil, my plants, and the animals react. Pressure changes have always brought about migraines for me, but now I feel connected to the world around me. I want to add more to my yard, not take things away. I want to feel even more connected every time I walk outside.

So, I’ve begun making my yard a thing of an oasis. I’m focusing on practices that actually help, both my yard, and myself. A pond for waterfowl to come play and splash around. The sound of frogs and toads singing in the night lulls me to sleep, as does the knowledge that these guys love to eat grasshoppers and will be munching away. My stress eases as I know that nature is taking care of me.

Trees, planted, carefully watered, some causing tears when they don’t make it through the winter or the hot summer months, provide shade and a place to play for myself, animals, and my daughter. I feel their giving warmth, yet coolness, in protecting us.

A meadow, trying its best, some parts flourishing, through the harsh conditions that have been dealt, giving beauty when there isn’t much to be found elsewhere. Bright blooms pop out of the dry earth when nothing else will.

I remind myself that this already exists and that animals, and insects flock here. I have two ducks I eagerly await to splash land into my pond every spring, and worry along with them when they lay their eggs, hoping they won’t get eaten by any predators. Geese love to chat in the yard, in the pond, on the roof. Owls screech or hoot in the trees. Hawks take watch, perched on hydro poles or tree tops. It’s all here, but the extras, the veggies and flowers, may need a little tweaking to bring back to the yields and harvests I’m used to. That the world is used to.

Changing my planting habits, reminds me to pivot in life. That, when something doesn’t work out a time or two, maybe it’s time to try something new. And, that’s okay. Plants are more resilient than we give them credit. While they won’t all make it in their normal habitats or planted in the same old ways, they can adapt and change and sprout when you least expect them to.

Mushrooms, those beauties that have made my body feel better, connect the entire world together. We’re only just realizing the greatness that they hold. They’ve yet to enter my garden on a permanent basis, but I can’t wait to welcome them with open arms.

While I’ve been toying with the idea of relaxing in the summer instead of worrying, stressing, and working, it won’t happen. Even as I tell myself, every fall, that I don’t need to plant as much next year, I know come January when I order seeds, I won’t be listening to that voice. I can’t. I can’t let a part of me go so easily, a part of me that grows with nature and the world around us. A part of me that grows every year as my little seeds start to sprout and take form. Because, without a garden, I’ll lose a part of myself.

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Life

How Complete and Utter Boredom Led me to Cut Down on Technology in Life

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I am bored. Bored with my hair. Bored with my decor. Bored with my writing. Bored with my friends and family and life and general happiness. I’m not sure why. But, I’ve begun to see a pattern as to when I start feeling this way, when the boredom and apathy starts taking over and it’s brought me to this new jumping off point. Which is a great place to start if you’re feeling bored because a jumping off point, no matter the height, is exciting.

This isn’t one of my usual posting days, but I’m starting a new experiment with myself, I wanted to post it when I started it (honestly, I should’ve posted it last night when I started rambling, but I figured some coherent sentences would be great). Lately, I’ve been feeling bored with everything around me and it’s been making me an angrier person than I already am. It took me a while to realize why, and I may still be wrong, but I’ve stopped caring about the world around me because I feel like I don’t need it.

Because, I don’t. Not in the way that I need trees and the eco-system to sustain itself so I can breathe and live, but in the way that I can alter my own eco-system and ignore the rest. If I have my phone, my social media connections and distractions, it doesn’t matter what’s going on around me, I’m carving out my own little world, my own little eco-system.

This, besides being a terrifying scene from a futuristic movie about robots taking over the world, is frightening in a whole new way. I’ve always tried my best to ignore all things internet and computer related, and nod along whenever people talk of Facebook making them feel less, making them feel sad, making them feel anxious. But, with the simplicity of acquiring new information and watching the best shows — right on my phone — I’ve forgotten my scorn for social media and the like, I’ve dove right in and lost myself in the process.

A few weeks ago, I was in Australia visiting my friend. There were 5 of us staying together, visiting and happy to see one another after months apart. Except, one night I noticed that we were all just sitting around on our phones. I noticed this because I hadn’t brought mine out yet, assuming we would be spending time together before we were apart. Now, we had been spending a lot of time together and some mindless scrolling is helpful when you’re constantly with people. I love to retire to my room to read even for 10 minutes during a busy cabin weekend. I even love to just sit in the bathroom for a minute or two if a party is particularly large and exciting/over stimulating. But, all I could see were people watching useless videos online instead of interacting with one another.

This happens all the time because we are constantly connected to our phones. Yes, I’m one of those people. I’ll stop to take some photos for instagram, sometimes posting that minute, but I physically try to keep my phone away so I can interact with the world around me.

At least, I used to.

I’ve slowly become so dependent on my phone, on being constantly entertained, on watching the next thing on Netflix that I’ve halted my ability to do anything but be told what to do from my phone. Reading is a chore. Going outside is exhausting. Yoga, meditation, general exercise is too much. This is all extreme, but it’s how I’ve been the last few weeks. I’ve been bored because I’ve been overstimulated with the screen in front of me. At least, that’s my assumption.

I’ve ignored reality and my surroundings, choosing to scroll through social media when bored rather than getting creative, exercising, or just giving into the boredom and seeing where it takes my mind. I talked about the stressors of living without the internet, but also about the absolute freedom and relief that comes from not being so attached here. I should know better, and yet, I keep getting pulled back in.

A startling discovery was when I didn’t want to watch anything on Netflix, but felt that I had to, that there wasn’t much else to do besides spend time on my phone. I was literally just wasting away hours until bed when I could’ve been doing so many more productive things, things that I love to do.

So, my new experiment is this: limited internet and phone usage. Earth-shattering goals, I know. While I cannot completely cut out my computer/tablet/phone from my life as it is part of my work, I can pump the brakes on it. I have my own routine to calm and destress me, one that I adhere to every night, but I’m taking it a step further. Maybe it’s not the only thing I need, but I’ve become so dissociated with life that I can’t ignore it any longer.

It’s time to use my phone/tablet/compute more wisely. It’s time to read more insightful articles both online and off. It’s time to waste an entire afternoon curled up on the couch with a good book and hot beverage instead of wondering if anyone posted on Instagram. It’s time to take my life back and integrate myself back into reality. And, if I get bored, the good kind of bored that lets your mind wander and day-dream, so be it.

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Life

We Shouldn’t be Ashamed for Changing Careers Often

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I used to be ashamed of my work background. Ashamed I couldn’t hold a job for more than 3 years, ashamed that I kept quitting and moving on. In the gig world, this doesn’t seem crazy. It’s the normalcy of life.

In the old school world of being a company man or woman, it’s ludicrous.

Whenever I’d send a Resume to a job I kinda sorta wanted I’d worry about the employer taking one look and seeing that I had tons of experience, but that I left a job every 2–3 years. How would that reflect on me and my capabilities?Would they go with someone with less experience, but who was loyal to their employers? The one(s) who would stay with a company for years, sucking away at benefits and pension plans?

It always made me nervous, but it shouldn’t have. Perhaps the thought of me ‘kinda sorta’ wanting the job should have made me more nervous than what my Resume said. It was always a means to an end, never something I truly saw myself in for years to come. Nothing that I assumed I’d be retiring from in my 60s. It was always something to do, something to try, something more to see, instead of a life-long career.

When I was younger, my goal was simple: I had to do everything. I wanted to be a ballerina, a singer, a model, a police officer, a swimmer in the Olympics, Prime Minister, and of course, a writer. Maybe I’d be an actor, too. I’d definitely be a lawyer, then an all-reigning judge. Always, always, I’d be living in New York and driving a Lamborghini.

Well, I don’t live in New York and I don’t think I’ll end up driving a Lamborghini in my life, but I’ve done a lot of things besides that. None of which have been in the realm of the above, of course. Except for writing, but even that turned out to be far different than I had imagined as a little kid.

I’ve been fully unemployed, tasting freedom while simultaneously being stressed to the max. I’ve worked in retail. I’ve worked administrative jobs. I’ve been in real estate, both as a Realtor and as an assistant. I’ve managed social media accounts as an actual job. I’ve managed a full sales team, painstakingly taking notes and stats on every single member. I’ve reviewed business plans and helped immigrants start a new life in a new country. I’ve bought LSAT textbooks, ready to take the exam, but backed out when I realized it wasn’t my dream. At 80+ hours a week, it better damn well be your dream. And, of course, I’ve written. A lot. Of everything. But, not the numerous best-selling books that my 13-year old self assumed I’d be penning.

Mainly, a lot of poorly paid bullshit that helped me gain confidence in my writing, at least partly. Do you ever feel truly confident in your writing, in your pitches, in handing in an assignment?

But, throughout all of those jobs, both good and bad and horrible and wonderful, I’ve learned something from each of them. Not all jobs are going to be dream jobs, even if it’s your dream you are in. Like writing. That shit is a mess that will never be cleaned up, but it’s been evolving throughout the years, changing course as I do the same in other areas of life.

I’ve had three difference blogs, each growing in different ways and niches. From my Captain Pirate Pete on tumblr where I shouted to the world that I once ate a button (completely true. Yes, I was drunk. No, not the entire button), and gushed about my ‘92 Tempo. To my traveling blog, dedicated to a subject I loved, but quickly shut down when I started comparing myself to those better traveled and better equipped with fancy cameras and poses in front of mountains and buildings and flowy dresses in souks. But, that was okay. Because I still wanted to do more. Because for someone who hates change, I absolutely love making career changes. Now, I’ve my own lifestyle blog (I guess who doesn’t today) that isn’t wildly successful, but it gives me great pleasure.

I get to write what I want and people read it. How absolutely novel!

Except you can’t necessarily make a living just writing what you want to.

While I was having fun and falling in love with writing again, shame followed closely behind me, urging me to find a better paying job, one that looked good on paper and sounded much nicer than the ill-defined I’m a Writer. It’s hard answering the question who do you write for? when you don’t always write for anyone, and you very rarely write for anyone people would have heard of.

So, instead of going for what I truly wanted, I kept going for jobs that I kinda sorta wanted. And, I kept feeling the same as I did before. I’d feel stuck, I’d feel stressed, I’d hate most of my days, but stuck it out just so people would think I was accomplished.

You’d think that in 2019, when people aren’t so quick to judge others, that all kinds of lives are the new normal, I wouldn’t be feeling this way. That anyone wouldn’t be feeling this way. How is it that we have gotten past race (for the most part), gender (for the most part), and sexuality (for the most part), but we still hold onto the career? The idea that everyone needs to be incredibly successful and needs to stay in the same job for years to come? We still look at how much someone gets paid as their success, we still look at a promotion as a success, and those things are great successes. But, they’re not the only measurement of success. Looking good on paper doesn’t always translate into real life, and the same goes with looking disorganized or all over the place.

I’m only 30. A spry, young age for someone to have held so many jobs. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I’ve never found something that stuck, something that made me enough money to support myself AND made me feel good. Because it’s not just that perfect career we’re after, it’s the feeling of accomplishment, the feeling that you’re living your dream. So, I kept looking for one without thinking about it, without wanting to settle, but was still unsure of where I wanted to go. Because that kept changing.

I jumped into real estate after coming home from my office job, the coveted office job I had wanted for so long, salivating at the clothes I could wear, the heels I could buy and the tumblers of coffee I’d tote to work, and asked myself Is this it? Do I really just work 8–4 and come home tired and exhausted from semantics and gossip and budget reviews every day for the rest of my life? Living how I wanted to in the evenings or for two full days on the weekends?

Is this all there is? TV and small vacations?

Before you jump to conclusions, no I’m not touting any of that ‘live your life and work where you want’ freelance stuff. Enough of us have been there, and that’s not exactly how it works out. All beaches and sunsets and laptops. But, I hated the idea that my time wasn’t mine anymore. Had I worked so hard (alright, moderately hard) in University just to do some entry-level job that had me going nowhere?

I became instantly horrified at the idea that this was adulthood and that This. Was.It. Why we all go grab a degree, what we were all reaching for. It may seem like I was meant for the freelancer life, that the regular 9–5 schtick wasn’t for me, and maybe that’s true. But, it wasn’t just the annoyance of having limited freedom, it was that my goal of getting an office job and bringing home a steady income was already met. It didn’t matter what office job I had at the time, as long as it was an office job. Anything but working until midnight. I didn’t know if I could do anything else. Which sounds beyond absurd. But, I couldn’t make huge life decisions on a whim like in University because I had a mortgage to pay, I had responsiblities, but I had no more goals.

I felt suffocated.

I needed to pivot, to change what I was doing. And, I loved it.

Turns out, changing my career every so often helped me feel better about myself and helped me feel like I was achieving everything I wanted to. Because you don’t get to do everything by staying in one job for the rest of your life. I realized that I can keep adding on new goals and pivoting when something doesn’t feel right.

And, that’s the word to use: pivot. It sounds like you know what you’re doing, that you’re doing the same thing, but sliiightly different. It doesn’t sound like you’re floundering, searching for the way out and into the new. It just sounds like you have extra responsiblities, exciting opportunities.

A recent job of mine had me making my own position. Something that had my eyes sparkling. I could find a perfect niche for myself and do a little bit of everything until it was perfectly, exactly what I wanted.

Of course, that’s not really how it works. It never was perfectly, exactly what I wanted. Nothing is ever perfect. But, it was close. It was what I needed in that moment, and it shifted over the years. Unfortunately, it ended up shifting into something I no longer wanted. So, I pivoted.

I stressed out at first, feeling ashamed that I would be leaving yet another job, one that was made exclusively for me, at that. But, I shouldn’t have been.

I learned new skills. I broadened my horizons and I added something a little extra to my Resume. It’s okay to grow out of things. Even if those things fall under your career.

I’m slowly doing everything I had wanted to do as a child: everything. I may not end up as a model (but I’ve had headshots taken! Ah, the weirdness of real estate). And, I may not ever be a singer or an actor, but I’ve done a lot of things that made me happy in that moment of time. I originally wanted to look and be like Barbie. Somehow, the money for that boob job never materialized, and I changed courses. People change. Our needs change. Why can’t our career aspirations and jobs?

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Life Mom Life

Toxic Motivation is Running Some of us Into Complete Exhaustion

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Why do some of us think we need to work ourselves into total physical sickness?

Hello, I’m some of us.

I don’t know if this weird work ethic was distilled in me during my youth, or if it’s something I’ve picked up throughout my life, and much more during the social media age, when I’ve realized that I’m a woman and am supposed to do it all.

Guess what?

You can’t do it all.

It just isn’t possible.

As a mom, the expectations have changed and not for the better. I’m supposed to work, take care of my child like I do not work, have a perfectly cleaned home, get 8 hours of perfect sleep, do not screw up raising my child in any slight way, do not watch too much TV or have too much screen time (Ditto for child, of course), have a beautiful body that requires time spent at the gym and eating wonderfully crafted healthy meals, look my best and do a 48 step skincare regime, be constantly updated on world affairs and politics, meditate and not become stressed, learn new languages or crafts, go to therapy and make sure my brain is just as perfect as my body, family, and home.

Add in the fact that I’m a stay at home mom who only works through writing a few hours a week and I have to be constantly in tune with my child, doing amazing things with her nonstop AND my house needs to be perfect. Because I’m at home, so why shouldn’t it be? With a toddler also at home. It just makes sense. Sory if that sarasm hit you too hard in the face.

Funny how my husband doesn’t need to do all of the above just to be a ‘good dad’ or a ‘good person’.

Something’s gotta give, and every day it’s different. But, still, the idea that I have to be doing it all is crushing.

The other day, I wrote down everything that I was doing. A lot included chores and day-to-day living, but there was also a hefty amount of work on there as I’m readying a large project. I thought about when I was in an office, working diligently at a desk, laughing with emplyees, and taking an hour long lunch break, daily. I broke out everything I was doing into how long it would take me at an office, and what would be an appropriate time-frame to complete everything.

Turns out, I was trying to cram in an entire two weeks worth of work in one day. No wonder I was feeling like a failure and like the weight of everything on my list was crushing me. Talking with my friend, she also mentioned how she feels the same way. She doesn’t get enough done in the day, yet she’s doing a perfectly acceptable amount of work if she was sitting in an office.

So, why do we feel this way? Why do we feel like we need to continuously be working, that we shouldn’t take any down time, even though we know that it’s good for us. Obviously, the pressure of trying to do it all is one of the biggest factors. The toxic motivation that we throw onto every situation is another one. That quote that Beyoncé has the same amount of hours in a day as you? It can get stuffed.

Yes, Beyoncé does have 24 hours in the day, but it is not the same 24 hours that you, or me, have. At least, not if you’re the average person. I could get so much done if I had a driver, a nanny, a chef, a maid, a personal trainer, a personal shopper and stylist, and an assistant. I’m making assumptions as to who she has on her payroll, but if I’ve learned anything from years of watching the Kardashians it’s that those with money have almost, if not every, single one of the above. Also, if I had the money, why wouldn’t I outsource a bunch of my daily tasks so I could focus on myself, my family, and my most important projects?

When I was working in real estate, I had a raging migraine, but still needed to finish a deal. My parents drove me around that day and the amount of work I got done on my phone was astounding. That is barely a fraction of the help that celebrities have, and yet we’re constantly comparing ourselves to them, thinking we have the same 24 hours in a day as they do.

The fact that I experience burn-out once a week is not healthy, and not something I wish to keep achieving. So, I’m trying for a little different of an approach to living life, especially that as a woman. I cannot be a career woman AND spend a ton of time with my child. I cannot have a perfectly clean house constantly AND have down time for myself. I cannot have a gym-influenced body AND get the million little things I need to do done. I cannot always provide perfectly healthy meals AND keep on a budget.

And, all of that is perfectly okay. I can’t do it all. I don’t know who can. At least, not without help. Life is a sliding scale. There was a time where my house was wonderfully clean and expertly decorated. There was a time when I worked 80 hours a week and was happy with that. There was a time where I didn’t listen to my body and ended up in the hospital with severe pain, brought on by bought after bought of stress.

We need to stop telling women, stop telling everyone, that we can have it all. Because we can’t. Not all at once, not every single day. Breaks are okay, hell, they’re encouraged. Who ever said you need to be wildly successful before 35?

Find your timeline and work with it. Slide that scale whenever needed and tweak your life until it’s what works for you, not some motivational influencer you found on social media. Because, we all do not have the same 24 hours in a day.

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Life

Are Anniversaries Really That Important?

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I’m not 100% certain on how long my husband and I have been together. We met at a cabin party, and eventually became serious, but the specific date? No idea. There was actually a highly entertaining night where I asked him and he became flustered and nervous because he thought I’d be getting mad at him for not knowing, when in reality, it was me who couldn’t pin down the date. Maybe that was when he knew marrying me would be a good idea.

Of course, I know what our wedding anniversary is. That’s a little more concrete and more memorable than some, ‘yeah we’re together’ moment during dating. Because, dating when you’re an adult is a lot more different than those exciting days when a boy would come up to you in the schoolyard, ask you to go out and then never speak to you again. I mean, I distinctly remember the beginning of mine and Marc’s great romance in 8th grade, but my now-husband? Who knows.

Recently, our first anniversary went by. Excited to eat the top of our wedding cake we had saved for the occassion and an expensive champagne I couldn’t drink at our wedding, I planned, and I use that word loosely, an anniversary day/evening: champagne, cake and Chinese food. That was as far as the planning went. Unfortunately, a storm ripped through our city and surrounding areas and my husband was called away to work for a full week. He came home just before midnight the day before we were to leave on a trip to Australia, exhausted and worn-down, so we boarded the plane the next morning and continued on living our lives. We never did get to celebrate our 1st anniversary together. At least, not until a month later where we just ate the cake and drank the champagne near-randomly during one Sunday afternoon, no fancy dinner (or take-out) planned. More of a ‘let’s just eat this before I eat it on you’ kind of day.

Instead of being crestfallen about missing our first anniversary, I shrugged and had a day eating whatever I wanted and watching whatever I wanted. It was a pretty good day, I must say. Yes, I was disappointed that we couldn’t do anything and celebrate such a ‘milestone’ (if you can’t make it one year, then why’d you get married in the first place?), and doubly disappointed that I couldn’t eat or drink the deliciousness I had planned on ordering, but I found myself not really caring that we missed the specific day. We jokingly said ‘happy anniversary’ when I made coffee for him, bleary-eyed at an ungodly hour before he went off to work an ungodly amount of hours, knowing I wouldn’t see him until I was already in the throes of delightful sleep that night.

Because, what is one simple day? Nothing. It’s a day that worked out in planning your wedding, it’s a day that cemented your relationship, taking it from casual to serious. It’s nothing more than a day.

Now, the 25th and 50th wedding anniversaries are something to be celebrated. You’ve made it a long time with someone without divorcing or killing them and that’s definitely a cause for a party. Instead of celebrating a day, you’re celebrating many, many happy (and some maybe not so happy) years of marriage. That kind of anniversary logic I can whole-heartedly get behind.

The anniversaries in between? Not so much. I have a friend who celebrates when they started dating and when they got married. Two different days. One celebrates in months and half-years, much like a first-time mother celebrates every month since her child has been born. While cute and incredibly nauseating each of those scenarios are, do they really truly matter? Do the smaller anniversaries matter as much as the bigger ones? Does it matter if you’re already loving each other and living and appreciating one another, not necessarily every day, but for most days of the year? Is it really that important to shout from the rooftops that this is your one true love, but only to be shouted once a year?

My answer is no. It’s not. Especially that last part. Social media doesn’t need a long-winded paragraph on how you and your one and only spent your anniversary. A nice picture will do. Let me like it quickly and scroll by without rolling my eyes.

If you’re celebrating every day like it’s your anniversary, then why go all out wonderfully and exuberently on just one day of the year, buying gifts and expensive wines and dinner? If you haven’t already guessed, my feelings on Valentine’s Day are pretty similar. Again, some yummy food and baked goods are all I really need.

To me, spending money on anniversary presents seems silly and not the best way to use your money. And, I use the term ‘your’ as in your money that you share. Are expensive anniversary presents really that important in the long (or short, depending how you see things) scheme of life? If you can afford to buy an expensive present for your anniversary, chances are you can afford to buy it, just because. And, when your money is all tied up together, then does it matter from whom it’s being given? Stay in, turn down the lights and enjoy that present a whole lot more than you would a pair of earrings or a watch.

My seemingly cynical point is this: there’s no need to go all out on an expensive hotel room or dinner or champagne just because it’s your anniversary. Do these things because you want to do these things for fun, that you would do them because it’s a Tuesday or a long-weekend, as well as your anniversary. Do it because these are the types of things you both like. If neither of you enjoy fancy dinners, then why waste the money, time and awkward car-ride and dinner conversation?

For us, we like ordering take-out (something we rarely do, even in this age of UberEats and Skip the Dishes) and sitting on the couch in PJ’s or sweats and enjoying each other’s company. Much like we do nearly every night together. While I enjoy an expensive bottle of champagne and even spendier restaurants, my husband hates them with a passion. He feels awkward and out of place and I would rather enjoy that with someone who will have a good time, like my girlfriends, than someone who is going to feel uncomfortable the whole evening.

Spend time with one another as you normally would, as you normally do. Use your anniversary to celebrate you and the things you both enjoy, but don’t feel pressured to go all out or even feel guilty if you both wake up forgetting what day it is. It’s just a day, anyways.

Categories
Life

Procrastination is Still Procrastination Even if you’re Being Productive

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Procrastination gets us all at one time or another, doesn’t it. Even if you’re the most studious in whatever you’re doing, there will be moments when you hit a wall and don’t want to do anything. Or, want to do everything but what you need to do. It may feel good to get another task done, and like you’re still being productive, but it doesn’t matter how you dress it up, it’s still procrastination.

If you’re not meant to be doing it, then cleaning your house, organizing your drawers, gardening, shying away from the one task on your to-do list that you must complete, then it’s procrastination. Yes, even if you are doing other work. Especially if you are doing work that doesn’t need to be done right now, or maybe ever.

I used to think that as long as I was writing, I was being a good little girl and getting my work done. Sometimes, certain projects took over, and others were left to wait it out. Usually, it works out nicely. Work for clients always takes precedent over my own projects because, well, they’re paying me. Plus, there’s that whole reputation thing and people tend to complain if you tell them that you’re more important than whatever it is they’re paying you to do.

Fair.

If I was doing something to build an audience, or to get that idea that just popped into my mind down on paper (er, computer screen), then it was okay. I was still working, so obviously there was no harm no foul. 10 months later…and…I’m still staring at that goal I made months ago, barely able to inch forward. I’m using the excuse of writing here on Medium, looking for new freelance jobs, and thinking of new projects (yep, even more, because why would I finish a project when I could start a new one) to not work on my own project.

For me, imposter syndrome is what derails my plans to get cracking on that project, complete it, and send it out into the world. For a lot of people, without any research done at all on the topic, I’m sure that’s the same reason. It’s easier to procrastinate, do something else, start a new project, than to finish one and succumb to the possibility of bad comments. Who would want to crush their dreams, even if a few people are balking at them, when they could keep it alive by never finishing anything?

While you may feel like you’re accomplishing a lot, you’re really not when it comes to the most important things. So, what can you do? Well, for one, just do the damn project. Find out what is stopping you from moving forward. Are you not interested in it anymore? Is imposter syndrome hitting you hard? Have you been working too long and just need a break? Do you need to get some small tasks out of the way to feel accomplished before you hit the bigger ones?

When I was working in an office, I used to make a list of everything I needed to do that day. While I was having my coffee and slowly starting my day, I crossed off most of the easy things on my list right away, leaving a few for when my brain felt tired and sad. It made me feel like I had already accomplished so much and I could ride that high while I tackled the big things I had been putting off. Sometimes, a conversation with another co-worker to clear my brain and add some happy hormones to my body was enough to get me going.

Find whatever makes you feel like you’re ready to get back to working and stick with it until that doesn’t feel like it’s working. It’s always good practice to pivot in everything you do, whenever it’s needed.

Now get out there, stop procrastinating by reading this post, and get those projects done.

Categories
Life Nature

Why I’m a Big Fan of Buying Eco-Friendly Products Before Using the Old

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Switching to an eco-friendly lifestyle isn’t the easiest thing done. It takes time to find the products you like, in your budget, that actually work. It feels daunting, images of people posting their pretty zero waste mason jars filled with barely anything as the trash they accumulated the entire year (which, by the way, is total, absolute bullshit). You wonder how you can switch to the bar shampoo, usually sitting at $14, when you can barely afford that cheap $3 shampoo at the grocery store. You have no idea where to start and what to do, what makes the biggest impact and if you’re actually helping the planet.

It’s a lot. But, it really, really doesn’t have to be.

There are so many things that we’ve switched to doing, or not doing, in order to live a more eco-friendly lifestyle. Some things have been tweaked as they weren’t as sustainable as I thought, being that we couldn’t keep doing it and it didn’t fit well into our lives. While there is so much that we are doing, it still feels like we are not doing enough, which is a cyclical nightmare you can get stuck in unless you’re an asshole who owns 5 yachts and two private planes. Just one yacht is good enough, guys.

Instead of freaking out over whether or not you’re doing everything you can, know that you’re still doing the best that you can. Stop, Breathe. And, try again.

When I was phasing out plastic wrap in our home, I still had a huge box of plastic wrap that I used often. It was that behemoth from Costco and it felt like it would never be finished. I still had a good year or give left on that thing, but I jumped on buying beeswax wraps, thinking that they would be an absolute saviour and get us off of the plastic wrap train. I tried local and not so local and gave them a shot with some foods, saving the plastic wrap for meat and when I was out of beeswax wraps or got too lazy to clean them right away. I felt like such an eco-friendly star and told everyone to give them a try…even though they didn’t always stick well, washing them was a pain, and I couldn’t use them on all foods.

It’s 5 years later and I have zero beeswax wraps in my house. I also have zero plastic wrap. Instead, I have bowl covers and containers, some plastic, some not (because using what you have first is always the best option). I’m glad I bought the beeswax to try them out while I still owned plastic wrap. They didn’t work for us, which meant I would’ve just high-tailed it back to the plastic wrap life and never looked back. Instead, I pivoted and found new ways to store my food and now don’t miss the ‘ease’ of plastic wrap.

When I switched to bamboo toothbrushes, I still had plastic ones sitting in my drawer. Thinking the same as my plastic wrap, I tested out the bamboo seeing if I liked one product over another. Finally, I found what worked for us in regards to price point and feel. It may have felt weird to use a plastic toothbrush after months of brushing with a bamboo one, but it felt good at the same time because I had found something that I liked enough that using anything else was disappointing.

It’s easy to just jump to a store and start grabbing plastic-free products and cleaner beauty items, but not every single product works for every single household. And, heading to a store to buy every single thing eco-friendly really only works if you have lots of money to spend and don’t need to stay on a budget. Like everything you buy for yourself or your home, it’s all trial and error. After a couple of decades of dressing myself and picking out my clothes, I finally know what fits me and that I don’t need to stray from my brands, fabrics, or cuts. I know what coffee I like after trying many, and I know which shampoo bars work better than others and better than the plastic bottles.

Throwing away that less than friendly item may seem like a good idea, but using up what you already have while you find something to replace it is better for the environment, your wallet, and your habits.

Categories
Life

The Silent Pain of Living with Chronic Pain

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I can’t really remember a time in my life when waking up with searing pain above my eye, or a throbbing so deep that I assume my brain will explode with the my next heartbeat wasn’t normal.

I know that I didn’t have migraines when I was a child, that they came upon me when I became a teenager, when hormones were thrown into the mix of my body, but it feels like this pain has always been there, always been on the back of my mind. And, you know what? It’s starting to wear me the fuck down.

My migraines started in high school, but were very episodic. No big deal, I could pop some Advil and away I went to school or my job. Soon, Advil wasn’t cutting it, though, and naproxen came onto the scene. I loved naproxen and it seemed like the best solution for my pain. However, it didn’t last long. I’ve had a long road of different pain relievers, all working at one time, but never really hitting the pain every time, or for the long-haul. I now know this to be normal for most everyone, but it is one of the most annoying parts of finding something that works only to find out it only works sometimes. Cue the start of fatigue of finding treatments.

Years went by and the migraines only got worse. They went from episodic to chronic, and it was normal for me to have 11-15 migraines a month. I was in pain every single weekend, when my stress let down, causing a migraine, grabbing for pain killers that only sometimes worked. I’d go to my job, feeling like absolute garbage, like my brain was going to explode, as I had already taken two sick days that month. Luckily, I never had a job where anyone counted sick days – if you were sick, then why were you at work? was the thought process.

It took one horrible migraine day where my co-worker brought me to the hospital, one nurse who asked if I took any preventatives (a preventative? I didn’t even know there were such options. I was still riding that naproxen wave), to get me to see a neurologist.

Sure, things got a little better in the migraine department, I went down to two migraine days a month with preventatives, vitamins, and cutting out alcohol and some foods. But by then, the damage had already been done. I was stressed, anxious of when my next attack would occur. I couldn’t work out, something I had loved to do. I had to stop boxing, had to stop any intense physical activity. I could barely go for walks without feeling like I’d get an attack.

I ended up feeling so nervous not to be stressed, that I was making myself stressed. I had a rigid bedtime routine, I had to sleep a specific amount of hours, I could only eat certain foods, I couldn’t have any alcohol, my stomach could barely handle pain killers as I had ripped it to shreds with uncoated naproxen throughout all those years. I worried about my job wanting to fire me (something I know had come up in a previous job, though that work-life balance was very toxic) because I had migraines. I had to quit a previous job I loved due to the stress that exacerbated my migraines.

It was only the beginning of what I would have to change in my life because of these stupid things that came and went as they pleased, wreaking absolute havoc along the way. I didn’t yet know that it would get worse, that the anxiety surrounding my chronic pain would ratchet up to new heights, that I would start to feel hopeless in ever feeling normal, again.

Recently, I went to a bachelorette weekend, armed with everything I usually do in a normal day: I had my acupressure mat, my vitamins, my ginger tea, I was going to bed later than usual, but at a still appropriate time. I brought a fan in case I got too hot in the cabin, which – thankfully – had A/C. It was a bougie place, my friends. I had three sips of wine during the fun wine tasting that was put on, knowing that if I imbibed a little more than that I could end up with a migraine. I ate cherries, having my healthy snack before bed. And yet…I still woke up with one.

The next morning, I quietly sobbed as I realized that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the weekend, that my pain was going to be there all day and not be a quick fix with any drug, that I’d probably end up with one the next day, as well. I packed up my things, trying my best not to wake anyone while I alternated between vomiting and sobbing. I wasn’t upset that I was missing out on the fun, at least, that wasn’t what was giving me these feelings of dread. It was the fact that I couldn’t do anything, anymore, without an impending attack.

I cried while my friend held me, telling her I just wanted to be normal, that I couldn’t do anything, that I couldn’t just have a day, or a night, or a weekend, where my pain was looming, waiting to attack. She told me that my body was being an asshole and had let me down. And, it was true.

My body, something I had my normal doubts about regarding how it looked (or, rather, how magazines said it should look), but still felt very comfortable in and loved. My body that got me through pregnancy and birthed my daughter, showing me just what it can really do. My body, once so strong and lean, ravaged by a neurological disorder, a silent pain that people believe to be ‘just a headache’.

My migraines may not be chronic anymore, they may be only 3-5 a month, but the silent pain is still chronic. The anxiety over wondering if I will get an attack on an airplane, again, or if I will miss out on days while I travel. If I will be able to make plans, or if I’ll have to cancel them. The plans that I have missed, both not important and very. The days that I miss in my daughter’s life because I am unable to take care of her.

The pain isn’t chronic, but the damage has been done. I no longer feel like I can do properly live my life, not how I would like to, not in any way that is considered ‘normal’ (see: waking up without pain being a normal thing). The exhaustion of trying different treatments, the money spent, with nothing truly working as well as it should, is heavy. Thinking outside the box, thinking inside the box, feeling as if it’s futile to even try.

I know I’m not alone in this feeling as there is a huge migraine community out there, and many more who suffer from some sort of debilitating disease or disorder that feel the same as I do. I know that we all need to tweak our lives so we can live them to the best of our ability, to be happy, but also so that we don’t aggravate whatever it is that is ailing us.

But, damn, this silent pain that anyone with chronic pain goes through is exhausting. Perhaps one day I won’t feel the constant pressure and anxiety coursing through my veins, and that gives me the little hope I need to just keep trying.

Categories
Life

The Easy Steps I Take to Keep my House Clean

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Or, you know, as clean as it will ever get with a toddler.

I’ve never been a full-blown neat freak, but there are certain things I absolute hate to get messy, like dirty floors, or mis-matched decor. I liked things in their place and the dishes done, somewhat, often. I love doing laundry, like a psychopath, I know, and I like organizing closets. Then, I had a baby and my house exploded in messes and I really stopped caring about all of the above and learned how to just survive.

Once I stopped just trying to survive in day-to-day life, I realized that my house could be a little cleaner, but the idea of trying to keep it clean — and how often I’d have to tidy up — with a toddler exhausted me. Instead, my house grew messier as I felt paralyzed about where to start. Sure, it would become clean in the matters of less than two hours when my toddler wasn’t around, but it didn’t look that way less than two minutes into her being home. It wasn’t sustainable to clean like crazy every week, or three, and then have it be a disaster the rest of the time. So, I made a chore chart.

Yep, a chore chart like I was a child learning responsibilities.

I mapped out everything I needed to do and broke it up into only one or a few tasks a day. I tried it out for the first week and, suddenly, I was getting more done than I had previously. When was the last time I had dusted? Judging from the thick layer on all of my light fixtures, years ago. I felt motivated to do the tasks on my list and didn’t feel stressed or paralyzed when not everything was done at once because I knew it would be my focus a few days from now.

While I had to tweak a few days, making my laundry days a little further in between so I wasn’t completely out of clothes or having to do laundry on ‘off’ days, the schedule worked wonderfully. Now, I only do laundry twice a week, folding and putting away the same day, instead of a mess of laundry every single day, hanging out in baskets for weeks on end. If I don’t finish folding or putting away the clothes, there are no worries, as I will complete the task on the next laundry day.

Yes, I sometimes still have baskets of laundry that aren’t put away. Yes, my house is still a disaster at times (okay, most times with the nugget running around). But, my stress is way down, my floors are clean, my house actually dusted, windows actually washed. The toys strewn about the living room and mittens ripped out of their organized boxes? It won’t be forever and proves that my house is lived in. My house may be cleaner, but a family still lives here, and I’m no longer worried about trying to look like I live in a magazine anymore.

Sample Chore List:

Mondy: free day/project day
Tuesday: laundry & bake
Wednesday: tidy up closet(s), entrances, fridge, pantry
Thursday: vacuum, water plants, dust, wash mirrors and windows
Friday: laundry & bake
Saturday: free day/project day/bathrooms/wash floors
Sunday: free day/project day

Since we are still renovating parts of the house and many parts need mass organization, the weekends are set for larger projects that I can’t get done with a child around, or I need my husband’s help/he needs to get them done while I look after our child. They’re essentially swing days where I can get things done that didn’t get done during the week, or deal with anything that pops up.

The list may look long and like all I do is clean all day, but I don’t need to wash my windows every single week. Dusting happens in chunks around the house. I can flit back and forth between all of the tasks, adding smaller ones if needed and I feel motivated.