The lasts of the firsts..

Tonight is just the same as any other night. It is Sunday in November. But while today is just like any other day, it is completely different – we are about to experience yet another last of the firsts.

My youngest turns 5 tomorrow. Five. I can barely wrap my head around this. And while he has already started school (another last of the firsts, as it was the last time we had a first day of school) this birthday is hitting me harder than most have in the past. Five feels big. It feels like he is no longer my baby, but this little tiny human who has this whole life that I am no longer a part of.

He is my last baby. I am not having any more. He completed our family. He was the last time I would be on the maternity floor at a hospital. He was the last bottle made for a 2am feeding. He was the last first time rolling over. He was the last time learning to crawl. He was the last first steps. He was the last first tooth. He was the last first giggle. He was the last first night in a big bed. He was the last first time riding a bike. He was the last first lost tooth. He was the last first day of school.

He is the last of the firsts.

And I know we have a lot of firsts to go through; not only with him, but with our other 2 boys (and there are firsts coming with them, as they are 11 and 13!! those are new firsts that I am not quite prepared for!!!) it is really sad to be closing the chapter on the first firsts. The baby firsts. The tiny heads and sweet noises, and the immense pride that you can only feel when you watch your tiny human do something for the first time; something you take for granted, like smiling, laughing, talking, walking, not shitting your pants…

He is turning 5. I remember where I was at this time 5 years ago. I had just dropped my older two off for the week, as I knew I was having a C-section on Tuesday morning. My husband (then boyfriend, because we like to do things out of order, and don’t conform to what society says is right and proper, and also because I swore I would never get married again..) and I had our entire day planned, for our last day without our baby. He came home from work, we watched SportsCenter (as we always did in the mornings), I went downstairs to get some cereal and wanted sugar, but the only sugar we had was that stupid paper bag of Rogers sugar, and it was on the top shelf of the pantry. I grabbed it and it fell on me, and exploded all over the kitchen. I remember laughing hysterically as I called Trevor to come rescue me from my current sticky predicament. We laughed, I ate, and then showered. And while he was getting out of the shower, he smashed his baby toe on the edge of the tub, and busted it wide open. This maybe isn’t something normal to remember, but it comes out again in the story. Then his mother showed up, as she was planning on coming to the hospital the next day, as she had never been in the room for a grandchild being born (she wouldn’t again, as I was being cut open in surgery, but she would see him when he was only hours old, which was a first for her) and I had a sip of hot chocolate, but it didn’t taste right, so I dumped the rest out. We then piled into her car to go do my pre-reg at the hospital, as I would be there too early the next day to register. They hooked me up to the little baby heartrate ticker thing (three kids, no idea what it is actually called) and the nurse looked at me and  said “wow. you’re having quite a few contractions!” and I just laughed and told her they had been happening all weekend, but I had been getting them since August. She then told me that she wanted to do an internal to see if I was actually in labor. Trevor and his mom stepped out, only to be called back in by my shouting “as if!” as the nurse told me I was more than 4cm dilated, and would be having my son that day. This came as a shock to us all, as we didn’t have a bag packed, didn’t have anything ready, didn’t even have our truck!! We had planned on going to see Harold and Kumar, and for dinner, then planned on packing our bag that night. Beauty of having a planned C-section; there really is very little guess work. Or so we thought.

Trevor left in a mad rush, as I was taken upstairs and prepped for surgery. I stood in the hallway, pacing while waiting for my nurse, and made a bunch of phonecalls to tell my family and closest friends that our son was coming a day early. It ended up being kind of awesome, though, as my older 2 were both born on the 7th, and now, so would my third. We lived 20 minutes away from the hospital, and he had to pack all of our stuff, and rush back. He got there just as I was being wheeled out of the room ( he would have been there sooner, to you know, support and calm me down, but he stopped for pepsi… ahem) and within a half an hour, our baby was there, in our arms, and smack dab in the middle of our hearts. The 3 days we spent in the hospital was filled with its own drama and bs, none of which needs to be recalled or revisited.. except Trevor’s aforementioned toe, which reaked havoc the whole time we were there, as the nurses weren’t able to give him a bandaid, because HE wasn’t a patient. His toe bled for the whole week. Note to self: beware toe damage – that shit bleeds forever!

And now, here I sit, remembering his tiny perfect head, his beautiful little baby lips, his tiny little noises, and how much my heart exploded when I got to hold him the first time.

The last time I held my baby for the first time. The last time I brought a new baby home from the hospital. The last time I spent hours trying to figure out how to make his formula, work the bottle warmer and the bottle sterilizer (so much was supposed to be done that last night! haha) The last time we would have a brand new baby at home for the first time. The last time we got to show off our new baby.

The last of the firsts. I know there are lots of other firsts, but this chapter is officially closed. He is going to be 5. To some, that may not seem like a big deal, but to me, it is.

My last baby.

 

I am back, bitches!

I have taken some time to chill, organize my life, and see how things feel. And what I can say right now is… things feel great! We are happy in our new house – it fits us very well and everyone is loving our new space.

Don’t get me wrong, the move itself was a slice of flaming hell. We had help. We arranged ahead of time for people to come help with the heavy cumbersome shit. I pack the house and clean after it is emptied, so the husband moves the shit. Seems fair. Except this time, help didn’t come. Bunch of hosers just didn’t show up. So who did the brunt of the heavy lifting? That would be us. At one point, my head was pinned between the wall and the couch, and I was not pleased. I know there are other people we could have called, but I have a very good reason for not doing so, which is why I am not bitching too heavily about moving our shit ourselves. Am I selfless? Did I want to give people their time with their families? Did I want to avoid being an inconvenience? NO! I don’t want those people calling us to move their shit. HAHA! Totally selfish, hence only being slightly annoyed.

Moving on…. We are settled and everyone is enjoying their respective spots in school.

Biggest little is thriving in grade 8 and just starting another year of volleyball. He is so good at that game, it is crazy. And it doesn’t hurt that he is very close to being 6 feet tall. Loser. I make him sit down when I give him shit, now. Nobody will take a 5’3″ person seriously when they hover 5-6 inches above them. He is a giant. He has a big heart. But at times I still question every choice I have ever made with him, due to the moron-adolescent big-ass attitude. Just have to remember it happens to the best of us and hope tomorrow is better. But as I remind myself all the time – it could be worse! He truly is a great kid and watching him become this beanpole with a vision for his life is kind of flooring me!

Middle-little (also known as the diabetic) is kicking ass this year. November 9th will be his 1 year diaversary, and he has got such a good grasp of it, our last appointment was mostly just sitting around and bullshitting with his nurses.. they didn’t even want to see his food log. He has grown (physically and emotionally) with this disease and we are blown away every day with how well he has adapted. He is in grade 6 and doing amazeballs with school and with his stupid busted ass pancreas. But he is so much more than just a diabetic kid. He is so funny and silly, and is going to earn a living with his amazing drawing and attention to detail. Just you wait and see….

Little-little!! Aww, here is where the changes are undeniable. My baby started kindergarten this year. Not only is it weird that he isn’t home two days a week, but he comes home and talks about this life that we aren’t a part of, and that has never happened before. It is tearing my heart apart a bit, but he is doing really well, so that helps. He attended his first bday party without us today, which is another change. Sigh… My baby. Seriously freaked out by this new development!

My husband!! Seriously… gush gush gush. I love the ever loving shit out of that man! Him appearing in my life was random, and a total miracle. My heart was obliterated before him, and now it is put back together in the most perfect way. He did a course at work this week, and walked away with a 98% which is amazing for someone who despises school, tests, speaking in front of people, has adhd, etc. And now this man, this amazing human that I get to share my life with, is a certified heavy equipment operator, and is certified to train people to not only run the equipment, but to also train other people to train people. In summation, he is a heavy equipment badass, and I am stupid proud of him! Plus, he is total sex on a stick, so there’s that, too.

Me…. I don’t really have a lot to report (at the moment) but shit is changing. My horizon is beginning to look a lot more pink, and the dark clouds are way behind me now. I have a few tricks up my sleeve… lets just say, what is coming next will be revolutionary in my life.

Like I said…. I’m back, bitches. But the me that is back isn’t the me you knew from before… I put myself back together differently this time.

*mic drop*

What do you want to be when you grow up?

It is an age-old question, that is mostly only ever presented to kids, or teenagers. It is something that you are expected to just know. When I grow up, I want to be…Β  bla bla. It is something that is asked of us before most of us even know who we are.

And it got me thinking of all of the answers I have ever given.. Ophthalmologist was the first one I ever remember.. I even did a report about it. The two that stuck with me the longest are plastic surgeon and lawyer. I thought it would be fun to suck fat out of people.. there may be something wrong with me. And lawyer… that is the one I have wanted more than anything else. I have a knack for arguing, making people see things my way, and I have an impeccable memory. I would do it still, if I could. But that is a lot of schooling for someone who is as old as I am… I am not sure I have the drive in me, anymore. (I mean, of course, there is writer. I have wanted to be a writer as long as I can remember. Nothing would make me happier than writing for a living.. but it never seemed realistic. So it was never really considered a career option for me.. so I has always just remained a hobby and dream)

But, how can people know what they want to do with their entire lives, before they have even got a chance to live? It seems like an absurd thing to put on someone who still has a curfew. And yet, we do! And it is perfectly normal and acceptable.

Here, in Canada, things work a bit different than in the states (or anywhere else, but my knowledge of schooling in Canada and the US is a bit more inclusive, so that is where I’m sticking) In the US, they take SAT tests to determine what kind of post secondary education they are entitled to. Seriously. I don’t know about you, but I consider myself to be quite smart… and I know for a fact, that I probably would have sucked ass at that test and ended up in some fourth rate community college. Why? Because I second-guess everything when test scores are on the line! In Canada, we just have diploma exams.. and you apply where you want, and hope your high school transcript isn’t total shit.

Then you go, you learn, and you (hopefully) walk away with some form of diploma, and the absurd notion that this is going to be the beginning of the rest of your life.

Now let me ask you this… how many people actually do what their diploma grants them access to? How many people have bullshit degrees that don’t land them with anything but a mountain of student debt? How many people take schooling for something because they thought that is what their parents wanted? Or a boy they liked was going to be an engineer, so maybe I can be too, and we can get married and have kids and be all engineery together? How many people actually think about their life and what they want out of it?

I have two college diplomas. I use neither. One was a pressure-apply, and the other was because I thought it would be a good job to do while I was at home with my kids. Neither of them was my passion. Neither of them made me feel alive inside. And now here I sit, with my laptop warming my lap (see how that works?), and I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life!

Sure. I could go back to travel, and come home every night angry. Or I could push for a job in transcription, and sit alone in an office with headphones on for 8 hours a day.. no music, no talking, no outside interaction.. But I don’t want to do either of them. Nor do I want to cut hair (gross). Nor do I want to do nails. Nothing against any of these professions, but it is not what I want do to for me.

I have a few ideas rolling around in my head, and thanks to a new friend, I may have come up with the best option for me. But now it is going back to college! It is being a 35 year old and starting new. Do I have the drive and desire to do that? I am not sure yet. All I know is I have to do something. Not for money. Not for approval (anyone who talks shit about me can suck my ass). Not to feel important. Not to feel equal to my husband. But for me. I want to do something that makes me happy. That makes me feel fulfilled. That makes me feel good about myself. That is what I want…

My life is crazy… any parent of a diabetic can attest to how insane things can get in the blink of an eye. I also have a teenaged son (good times) and a little monkey that is starting kindergarten in the fall. So I feel like this might be my time. The diabetes is under control (well, as under control as that bastard disease can actually be), the teenager isn’t a douchebag who’s getting into all sorts of trouble (he is very trustworthy, thank god!) and my little guy is starting school.. seems like the perfect time for me to go do . Be. Do.

But what?

What do you want to be when YOU grow up?

Friends forever…

Forever? Or until something else better comes along? Or until life gets in the way? Or for really forever?

Friendship really is a strange concept, isn’t it? One day you are just walking around and then you see this other person and you say “hey. I like you. You are mine now”. And you just sort of adopt them into your inner circle and start including them in your life. So strange. You don’t know this person at all, but you consider them close enough to share drinks with (gross.. slobber is straight-up grody), share clothes with, share secrets with, share your life with. Admit it, it is SO STRANGE!

But think about it.. how lonely would life be if you didn’t have friends? How lonely would life be if you had no one to text all day long, hang out with at nights and on the weekend, to do trips and holidays with, to confide in, to bawl uncontrollably when life craps on you, to laugh with, to ask for opinions and advice, or to stand with you while you get married. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like some boring and lonely shit to me!

Good thing we have friends, hey? Yes. Having friends is a blessing, but it could also be seen as a curse. You get attached, you give a part of yourself to these people, you let them in, let down the walls, and show them who you really are. So what does that do to you when/if you lose them? Right. It destroys you. It is almost worse than a breakup, because when you breakup with someone, who do you call? Right! YOUR FRIENDS! So when you “breakup” with your friends, what do you do? You cry into your wine and then get pissed off because you’ve now watered down your last bottle of vino. It is a truly shitty deal, dude.

I am not saying that all friendships end in wasted wine, but not everything lasts forever. Sure, there are those blessed and magical friendships that can span even the largest spaces in time… but for the most part, people change, situations change, life changes.. shit happens. It is just the way that life can ebb and flow. And sometimes that ebb and flow lands you in a wave without a life vest. It sucks, but it is true. It hurts like a son of a bitch when you open up your heart and then watch that one character in your story slowly get written out. Pain, anguish and vats of salty watered down sauvignon blanc.

I know that popular saying says “thanks for the memories” but I really hate that. I have a very very very good memory, which often means a lot of unnecessary pain. I remember things that people have long forgotten about, I remember situations and how I felt, and how people have made me feel… and when I lose that, it stings, as it does with anyone. Somedays I wish my memory was less fantastic, but then I suppose I would miss my memory and all that it allowed me to hold on to.

I know I have written about friends before, but that post was an ode to the shitbaskets. I guess this post is more of a tribute to the good ones that may not necessarily be everyday participants in my circus anymore. I know there are a certain few who will always be there, in the background, and I take solace in that fact. But it doesn’t make it sting any less when I think back on how constant they used to be and no longer are. That’s not to say I blame them or hold a grudge… Just miss them and what used to be. It is always a shock to the system when you have a shift from constant to background, even if the shift happened slowly… slow or not, that shit shocks and stings.

Life changes, people change, situations change, nothing stays the same forever… There are a few certain people I want to stand on a rooftop and scream this to, with my tear saturated wine in hand: I will always have a space in my heart for you, you will always be a huge part of my history and a part of my happily ever after… I love and miss you…. and just like the stars, even though you may not always be able to see me, I am always there, just trying to make life a little bit more bright and sparkly for you.

Right or wrong? Who fucking knows..

Decisions Decisions.. how do you know when you are making the right one? Do you get a feeling in the pit of your stomach? Do you get a tingle up your spine? Do you have a little crazy ass voice in your head leading you in certain directions (if you hear it all the time, I may suggest speaking to someone about that.. haha) How do you know when you are making the right choice? How do you know when you are on the right path? And don’t fork over any of that new-age mumbo-jumbo that spouts off that every path is the right path if you look hard enough. Bullshit. I know a lot of people (present company included) that have blindly stumbled down all sorts of incorrect paths, and where did that lead me? Right up shit-creek. And I am here to tell you, shit-creek is not a pleasant place to be, especially when you are a weak swimmer. Regardless.. how do you know? YOU DON’T!! You just close your eyes, hope you’re doing the right thing, and hold on for dear life.

Not every right decision feels right. And not every wrong decision feels wrong. Sometimes, they interchange. Sometimes, the bad decisions are the best feeling things in the whole world! I would imagine that is why being “bad” is deemed as fun, while being “good” is usually deemed as boring as fuck. It is because being good doesn’t usually feel good. That’s not to say that all good decisions feel bad, or aren’t fun. I have made a lot of good choices in my life that were the best things ever, the most fun, and felt amazeballs. That being said, lots of my bad decisions felt that way, too.

So, how do you know what to do? When you are faced with something that you feel is the right decision, but you KNOW that it is going to piss off a lot of people, and potentially hurt and destroy others. But you know deeeeeep in your gut that it is absolutely the path that you need to be on right now? I know I shouldn’t be concerning myself so much with the opinion of others, or worrying with how anyone else is going to feel about my choice. But at the end of the day, in spite of many opinions that would suggest otherwise, I am not a rampaging irrational unreasonable bitch on wheels. I am not. At my core, I am a good person, and very smart, and I have a very keen eye for people and am an amazing judge of character. Maybe that’s why I am perceived as a bitch to most? Because I can see through bullshit and people are afraid of me being able to see who they really are, before they are ready for that to be public knowledge? Maybe it is because I stand up for myself and (used t0) frequently speak my mind. For a long time, I stopped, because I was exhausted of always having to defend myself. And I just hung back and let shit happen. But now? I am kind of exhausted of that, so I have started putting my foot down, and the bitch-mask has been thrown on my face again. SO BE IT! Just call me Bitch-Girl and watch me rock my cape and mask. (of course, my “cape” will be in the shape of a hoodie, and my “mask” will be sunglasses, because while I may be considered a bitch, I am not bat-shit crazy)

I have made a few very big and life altering decisions in my life. Lots of them are ones that most people are never faced with. Lots of them would pale in comparison to some other peoples life altering decisions. But regardless of where I land on the “holy shit” meter, they were the ones I had to make, and they are part of my journey and have shaped who I am. Again, I don’t think I turned out that bad. It has been pointed out to me (directly and indirectly) that not everyone agrees with my appraisal of myself. But again, this isn’t about anybody else’s opinion right now. My life, my choice, my journey.. And here we are. At yet another crossroads. Some days I am baffled at how many of these fuckers I have encountered in my life. I am 35 years old, and I feel like I have had to make choices that could potentially alter my world permanently WAY too many times. But it is about perspective. Had I not made those choices, I would not be sitting here. I don’t think my choices have landed me in a horrible life, just sometimes a really HARD life. Then again, most of the time, it is easy and awesome and fun and enjoyable. Nobody loves every minute of their life, I suppose. And if they say they do, they’re crazy enough to be wearing a cape and mask.. hahaha.

I know that once this newest “WTF” issue comes to a head, there is going to be an awful lot of shit thrown at me, a LOT of protest and probably some tears. Which is why I am sitting on my couch, for the third hour in a row, with my headphones on full blast, with very loud and aggressive music on (read: very drum laden) It is how I have always dealt. Music. I turn it up as loud as my poor old-ass eardrums will allow, and my mind kind of goes blank. I think all day every day… a lot. So maybe when my mind goes blank, it opens up avenues for sense to me made of the shit that is swirling. I used to do this in my truck. I would make insane playlists on my ipod (or burned to cd’s cuz my cd player was able to turn up louder than my ipod transmitter thingy) and I would drive. The longer, the better. Most people hate driving long distances alone. I used to LOVE it! Grande Prairie to Calgary was my favorite. It was 9+ hours alone in my truck with nothing but my sunroof and music to keep me company. I turned my phone on silent, and just drove. It was always when my mind was the clearest. I also did Grande Prairie to Edmonton several (hundred) times (gotta love long distance relationships!) and while that was only 4 hours, it still usually did the trick. But, being older (and somewhat more responsible) I can’t really just jump in my truck and drive to see my best friend in Calgary like I used to. So, my pretty blue Beats and my Apple Music playlist are just going to have to do for the time being.

Is it making this decision making crap any easier? Not really. Because in my gut, while I know it is the right thing to do, it is still hurting me. I hate having a conscience. It is brutal. There is something to be said for the time that I was numb inside – didn’t matter what choice I made, I just didn’t give a fuck. Though, being numb probably wasn’t super healthy, either. Oddly though, that was when I was the most up-front and brutally honest, stood up for myself the most, and didn’t really give a shit what people thought, and nobody thought I was a heinous bitch! But now that I am more timid and care about other people’s feelings, I am Bitch Girl. HA! How ironically ridiculous.

Long story short (okay, not really short…) making decisions is not always easy. It is not always cut and dry. It is not always clear what you should do. It is not always going to make you happy. It is not always going to make everyone happy. It is not always going to make you feel good. It is not always going to hurt. It is not always going to be clear to other people why you did it. It is not always going to make you popular with everyone. It is not always going to make you feel good.

How do you know if you are doing the right thing? Like I said.. you don’t. You just close your eyes, hope you’re doing the right thing, and hold on for dear life.

Here we go… time to jump.

Sore, but not dead.. keep going!

So, on January 4th I went way out of my comfort zone. I weighed myself in front of someone else! Absurd, right? I frigging agree! But the local sporting goods store does this bad-ass contest every New Year… people go weigh in, their weight is marked down in the computer, and in 8 weeks, go weigh again! And for every pound you’ve lost, they issue you a $3 gift card for their store! For anyone without thyroid issues, this could pay big! Or men… pffft… it is just so unfair how quick dudes can dump weight! But as previously discussed, women get to sit to pee, so there has to be balance in the battle of the sexes somewhere. I sit to pee, and they can lose 5 pounds in one day without trying. Yup, totally fair. Anyway, I am getting off topic (slightly)

So I begrudgingly dragged my tubby butt into the store, and then proceeded to ramble the lady’s ear off as I was stepping on to the scale, explaining why I was as big as I was… like she cares, right? Yeah, probably not. But I still felt it necessary! Some days I want to wear a sandwich board explaining my weight situation, because the judging looks can get really hurtful and annoying. But anyway, I weighed myself, for the first time in many months, in front of a total stranger. And as a recap, the many months also included when my son was diagnosed with diabetes, the subsequent hospital stay, and my prolonged IDGAF attitude towards eating, snacking and gluten. Gluten, for anyone who isn’t aware, is a big no-no for people with my autoimmune disease, but at that point, I was focused on my sons newly diagnosed autoimmune disease (which gluten doesn’t affect, for anyone keeping track)

When I stepped on to that scale (it was on carpet, which I didn’t think was smart for weighing, but whatever…) I was pleasantly surprised. It was nowhere near where I thought it would be! It was much lower – still a grotesquely revolting number, but lower, nonetheless.

I re-started the 21 Day Fix on January 4th. I love that program. When it first came out in 2014, I did it religiously and lost 10 pounds in a month and a half. Then my doctor fucked around with my meds, and I gained upwards of 35 pounds, and haven’t lost it yet (thanks Doc!) But it is a great program. Most people don’t really realize how much their portions are just waaaaay wrong. It super helped. And I found the workouts to be really fun! I had to modify lots to begin with, but got better and stronger. Then I had to quit, at to the request of the aforementioned doctor. But I happily threw my dvds in and started all gung-ho. But I quickly became insanely bored (hello, doing this for almost 2 years.. it is bound to get boring as hell) So I popped in my 21 Day Fix Extreme and…. HOLY SHITBALLS! There is nothing easy about this program! The very first workout, I wanted to die. Plyo with weights? Screw you! Cardio with weights? Screw you more! Everything with weights? Kill me now. I am so sore. So so sore.

SO SORE! But you know what? I am not dead. And, I have lost almost 6 pounds now. Sure, in the span of a month, that is not super awesome. But, I am not eating super good (too little, if anything.. for real, I hate food) and I am still modifying a lot (I have the knees of a 70 year old man) But every morning, I get up, make my Amino Energy, pop in my dvd, pull out my weights, and sweat my balls off (I have sweat a lot, so I no longer have balls.. hahaha)

At the very least, I imagine I will get about $15.00 in gift cards. My husband weighed in, too. So I am sure he will let me use his gift cards, too. I am hoping to get enough to get a new sports bra. Ooooh, dreaming big!!

Defective? Or sucky?

Yesterday, I found myself pondering.. damn you sickness, do you see what you made me do? You made me ponder! When I am left to my own devices, and allowed to wander the dark recesses of my own brain, horrific terrors are usually emerge. Yesterday’s theme was “am I defective? or just sucky? why does everyone leave?” and from there, it spiraled. I frequently feel like “the girl that everyone remembers, but is easily forgotten” and that is a sad and lonely way to feel.

I thought back on a few of the larger losses in my life (people who chose to leave, not people who passed away.. I didn’t go that dark) I came up with a top 10 list of the more memorable (and sad, confusing, befuddling or down right douchey ones)

  1. the sisters. I would like to preface this with my total and utter disdain for vapid, shallow, self-involved fake bleach hair bitches. These two, I had been friends with since grade four. FOUR! That is a long time when you are 20 years old. Why did they decide to unfriend me? Their words? “you are just the wrong body type” THANKS! Nothing boosts your ego more than people telling you you look the wrong way when you are a measly 110 pounds. Apparently that extra 4 pounds I weighed more than them made me unsavory. Oh, and I am pretty sure it was also because my hair was brown.
  2. the dude from high school. He decided I was no longer worth being friends with because I was “squishy” in my mid-section. Another boost to the ego.
  3. the people who decided I was no longer worth being friends with because I got a divorce. Thanks. May you rot in hell, you hypocritical douche-monkeys.
  4. the girl with the big truck. She helped me stay sane during my divorce, and spent one night a week with me, just so I wasn’t lonely.. who phoned me one night, drunk off her ass, and told me she had just hooked up with some dude I BRIEFLY saw (like, so briefly, it lasted only a couple hours.. that is a funny story, but one for another day) which also meant she had cheated on her boyfriend. She didn’t ever call me again after that.
  5. the girl from high school. Friends since grade 10. Went through all sorts of crap together. Pretty close. Had a couple crazy fun weekends (one of which I was roofied and dragged into some strange persons car, pulled out by some other dude, and apparently rode in a stretch hummer? I have no recollection of any of this, but this is what I was told happened..) attended her wedding… then one day she texts me and says “I unfriended you on facebook. You are just too negative to be friends with now. See ya”. She did this while I was in Mexico on a family vacation, and hadn’t spoken to her in over a month at that point. WTF.
  6. the girl who tried buying my friendship. We had been friends since 2005. Talked all the time. Hung out lots. She was someone I leaned on heavily during my hardest times, and vice versa. She was a very good friend to me. When I was single, sad and alone, she texted me every night, because she knew that my saddest thing was having no one to say good night to. She started getting distant and apologized, once even offering to buy me things to make up for being MIA. “I am gonna be around anyway, you might as well get something out of it” to which I replied “being my friend is all I want”. And one day we were friends, and the next, she removed me on facebook and hasn’t responded to a text I have sent, since. 8 years of friendship, and no reason why it ended.
  7. the girl with the asshole husband. I am pretty sure he decided that we weren’t to be friends anymore.. Cuz there was no other logical explanation.
  8. the here-when-it’s-convenient-for-me-only girl. Really no need to delve into that one.. it is pretty self-explanatory. Pretty sure I just didn’t properly fit into her world anymore, and it was just easier to only pop in and out of my life when she had nothing else going on.
  9. the self involved selfie taker. We were good friends, our kids were friends, we had a lot in common and talked all the time. Then one day, after we had hung out, she decided that I didn’t fit in her life anymore, and that was that.
  10. the best friend since grade 7. What can I say about this one? She was my best friend. We grew up together. We leaned on eachother. We were a huge part of eachothers lives. I loved the crap out of her. She was my person for the longest time. We had coffee two days before I moved away from the town where we were both living, and everything was fine. I hugged her goodbye, we vowed to stay in touch, and shed a few tears as we walked to our vehicles. I tried texting after that, but never got a reply. I have facebooked her on her birthday every year, but rarely get responses. I sometimes go and look at her pictures, and it makes my chest hurt. She was my best friend and I miss her all the time. I don’t know why, and I probably never will. Friends from 1991-2012 and just gone.. just like that.

I see these people I am friends with now, and they have friends from when they were kids, in school, etc…. and I wonder how that feels. Because I don’t have that. I used to. But I don’t anymore. And it makes me wonder… why? Why was it so easy for these people to just go away? Am I defective? A sucky friend? A crappy person? I don’t think I am. But there is clearly something fundamentally wrong with who I am, if 10 people can just turn and walk away, without ever looking back.

It sucks that I will never have that person in my life who knew me when I was a kid (outside of family, of course). Or when I had my first kid. Or when I went through my hell and landed on my feet. It sucks that any of my “remember when” moments with my current people all start when I am in my 20’s or 30’s. It is sad. I feel like I have been robbed of a part of life that everyone around me has. It makes me sad. It makes me feel broken.

Like, I know that my life was a rollercoaster ride for the longest time. I know that I went through an enormous amount of pain and shit. But most of these people left me either right before, or right after, all of the hell on earth. So, who knows. I will probably never get any answers (other than the obvious ones, which are those certain people in that list are just giant fucking asshats…)

Still, if I could get any of them back… I would give my left kidney for #10 to be sitting at my table laughing with me again. Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I miss you.

A bad example? Or a cautionary tale?

Have you ever sat back and thought “holy shit, my life has been insane!” No? Just me? LIAR! Everyone has at least something that they look back on and reminisce and wonder how the hell they made it out alive. It can’t just be me. I mean, I have had a bit of a whirlwind life thus far, but I know for a fact that I am not the only person who has ever made a mistake or had shit thrown at them and lived to tell the tale.

This was all brought to my mind today, while telling a friend the “cliffs-notes” version of my life. I mean, I didn’t go back very far (only 8 years or so.. as the brunt of my “are you effing kidding me?!” started happening around my 28th year of life.. there was a shitstorm of epic proportions prior to that, but that’s a story for another day) I was spewing forth some of the happenings in my life, and a familiar catch in my throat appeared. Hello old friend, I haven’t had to swallow you in a while. Then it hit me. That shit is all behind me. Very behind me. I survived. Like Eminem said “that’s what happens when a tornado meets a volcano..” that is exactly how I feel like my life was for the longest time. A tornado and a volcano. But, I have been on solid ground for a while, and am so thankful for the ability to say that!

While telling my friend about all of my highs and my many many devastating lows, I wondered something – am I more of a bad example? A “what not to do”? Or am I a cautionary tale? Leading others on a path that may not land them in the shit that I dug myself out of? Interesting.

To some, I may seem like the worst example. Divorce. Single mother. All the other shit that was swirling at that time. To some, what I did and what I went through is considered heinous and abhorrent. Well, I am here to tell you, it wasn’t that bad. I am not a bad person. I just do not believe that people are required to stay unhappy forever. And once someone has done everything in their power to fix a perpetually broken and shitty situation, and it just isn’t fixing, then it is time to pack it up and move the hell on. Which is what I did! Was it easy? Hell no. Was it scary? Fuck yes! But I did it, and I survived (as did my kids!)

How about considering myself a cautionary tale? A “this is what happened to me due to these choices, and should you want to avoid this, perhaps don’t make these choices!” kind of situation. I am not sure I really want to be portrayed that way, either. But maybe it’s not so horrible. I maybe didn’t make “horrible” choices, per say. I made the same choices that millions of other people have, I just made them with the wrong people and at the wrong time. So, look to me for answers about what not to do, fine. But also know that if you happen down the same path that I did, and find yourself in the same crap-stew that I festered in for a very long time, know that one day, you will fight your way out of it, and you will find yourself even stronger and more resilient than you were before.

Cuz if I can survive everything I have, and still have a smile on my face, hope in my soul and love in my heart, than anything is effing possible. Well, maybe not anything.. I mean, I am still not a millionaire. HAHAHA!!

 

Shine over the breaks…Β 

My friend said something to me that struck a chord – and not in the way that brings upon backlash.. Nay nay.. This is me.. Instead, I sat and let it fester and thought about it for hours. 

She told me that I seemed sad, but she was worried my sadness was so great, it would turn into anger and it would seep into all areas of my life. To which I replied “I am angry!” And typing that sentence is a whole new ball game. It makes it true and brings it to life. That’s entirely different than just feeling angry. Admittance is the first step, after all πŸ˜‰ 

Sure, I know I’ve felt mad and angry and betrayed. But I keep trying to focus on the good, and let the other shit be water under the bridge. Like shit creek – just stinking it up and floating about. But I guess I wasn’t really aware of how stinky I have been allowing myself to feel. 

I tell my husband all the time how happy I am, how much I love our life, how happy he makes me, how happy the boys make me, how much I love my job (and his job, for that matter) and how excited I am for our future. But I guess I let the bad outweigh the good, and it’s starting to overshadow the shiny stuff. THAT IS NOT GOOD! Shiny stuff is the tits and should be celebrated for how awesome it is, not overshadowed by some stinky creek water. 

So I decided that this weekend is gonna be all about healing my owies and working on fixing what I feel is broken. People say “don’t fix it if it ain’t broke”… Well, if my shiny shit is being seen as dull, then I guess that means something is broke. 

I have to really learn to let things go and move on.. I carry way too much hostility and grudges. I need to learn to exhale and release. I’ve never been good at that. I am someone who will hold a grudge until the end of time. That’s not healthy! So I’ll do my personal development, maybe some journaling.. Write down what hurts and sucks, and see how much tarnish I can get off.

I know I’ll never be brand new and shiny again – once you break this many times, you’re always going to show signs of wear and tear. But, I will work on gluing those breaks back together, and maybe shining over them. 

There is so much good in my life. Thinking back to where I’ve come from and what I’ve dealt with, I shouldn’t complain. Life is only going up and getting easier for me. I’ve come so far… That’s what I have to keep in mind – onward and upward. 

I just hope I haven’t damaged myself beyond repair. My husband is the king of silver linings, and I know he will never let me only see the bad.. And he believes I am not irreparably damaged – so, let’s go with that.  

 

Screw the numbers!!!!

We, as a society, are OBSESSED with numbers!!! The year of your vehicle, the age of your house, your yearly income, how many years of college/university you have, how much you make per hour, how many kids you have, how many trips you’ve been on, how many continents you’ve visited, your weight, your height, your age, how much you spend on clothes, bla bla bla… and of course the one that people lie about almost as much as their weight… how many people you’ve slept with.. haha!

WHY!? Why can’t people just be themselves! A person is more than what they make, what they drive, their address or their weight. We are so complex, and awesome, and have so much more to us than just the numbers that make up our outsides. You can’t really put a number on someones personality, or their loyalty, their sense of humor, or how they make you feel.

So in an effort to obliterate the number bs, I have decided to share some of mine!!! I am going to take a picture and share my weight every Monday morning! And I am going to post what I eat every day and what exercise I have done. I want to make weight a less taboo topic.

It DOES NOT define you!! It is just a part of who you are. And if you don’t like the number staring back at you from the scale, or on the tag of your clothes, then change it! A bigger number does not make you less of a person, and a smaller number does not make you a better person!

Live your life… enjoy your particular numbers… but stop letting them make you who you are. You are a bright and vibrant person and you are worth more than any number!!!