Failure 

Failure 

When I’m dealing with a million things at once, like major life choices, I don’t sleep. 

Like, at all. 

When I don’t sleep, I think about random crap, ranging from my plans for my rare day off tomorrow (as I’m currently employed four times over, two regular jobs & two freelance jobs, my LinkedIn profile makes me look like a machine) to my deducing that my insomnia stems from burnout. Maybe I work too hard, put too much pressure on myself. Maybe I take the random people who call me their inspiration seriously & I feel like I need to be the pillar of strength & grace all of the time or I’ll fail them (might I suggest a better inspiration? Beyoncé is a good one). Or how I feel like a failure as a writer as of late, despite my blog & other endeavours appearing to be successful. Or the fact that my best friends think I work too much to avoid actual feelings. I told them I write my feelings where they can’t be found; in plain sight but hidden. Look at me pretending I’m a riddle. Or just failure in general. 

Ladies & gentlemen, welcome to what I think about when I don’t sleep. 

May I present the face of insomnia

Failure.

 (Don’t worry kids, the title is still a song title. Insomnia doesn’t prevent my sometimes flawless musical timing)

I’ve spent so much of my life with something to prove. I need to overcome the shit childhood; the poverty, the emotionally draining relationships, the foster home, the stigma. I need to succeed, because for so long the sins of those who should have protected me were on my head. I refuse to do that for my own children, so I spend a lot of time trying to be better, smarter, healthier, wiser. I used to fear failure. If I failed at anything, it was a tragedy. I couldn’t handle it. Tests, work, all of it, it had to be perfect. 

Part of my growth as a person has been to accept that I’m not perfect & sometimes I mess things up. Like this past month, when I got fired from the job I hated more than I hated geese (almost). My spotless employment record, ruined. Old MH would have had some kind of epic breakdown. As my daughters asked what would happen next (& I learned that I need to be more mindful of my speech because my five year old said she missed my old Target Mobile boss because he’s not a “raging doucher”), I very calmly told them I’d have a new job in a week. I was wrong; I had a new job in two days. I had TWO new jobs in a week. I may never have a successful personal life, But I dominate my professional life like a dynasty sports team. 

I’m so close to having almost everything I’ve ever wanted. I couldn’t let the fact that my boss couldn’t see my worth to the company (I later learned I was one of only three people meeting the company standard) & the fact I lost a job I actively hated deter me from the goal. So, I stayed the course. Focused on the goal. I needed to show the girls that Mom had it under control…& she did. I can’t obsess about the fact that I didn’t succeed at a random retail job I won’t put on my resume. I HATED IT. I won’t succeed at something I hate & if I just continue to work & focus on my new jobs (which I love so much more) & freelancing in another time zone, I’ll get what I’ve worked my whole life for. 

  

So, I’ve learned there’s no shame in failure. It’s when you don’t get back up. So, I’ve accepted I’ll never be Laycool flawless. But I’ll get back up & try again. And again. And I’ll teach my girls the lesson I learned the hard way; its not failing because you didn’t succeed; failure comes from giving up.

  

I guess that’s what I love most about life; even when I have no idea what direction I’m heading in or what to do next, to the point where I don’t sleep & I’d really like to, I’m still learning & growing. I’m still evolving into the kind of woman I want to be & that’s pretty rad. And eventually I’ll figure this life thing out & hopefully it’s not before life removes me from the game…& maybe after I get some sleep. 

  

Rest to Get Better

Rest to Get Better

Since the rest of my life seems to involve writing (I just wrote an awesome article about a lifetime achievement award winner! So excited!), acquiring many jobs, scheduling interviews with a time zone difference, making lists & staring blankly at the ceiling whilst I try to make life decisions like a real adult, Imma gonna write about the stuff in my life that I’m not screwing up. Parenting & fitness. 

I’m always striving to be a better MHC than I was yesterday. It’s really important to me to set the right examples, do the right things, live the right life so that the three minor children that I’m charged with getting to adulthood see that you can be anything by doing anything you set your mind to. It’s why I’m still working for the goal of finally landing a full time job in journalism, because I need to show them that you don’t give up on what you really want in life. You work hard & keep trying & if you get knocked down, you get back up. 

Another part of this is body image. It’s very important that I show my daughters that you should live a healthy & active lifestyle, eat right & love your body. It’s not about “skinny” or “fat shaming,” as someone accused me on Facebook after I posted a gym related status update; it’s about taking pride in who you are. Most obese people learned poor eating habits from their parents. Obesity is linked to low self esteem. My self esteem was low for years because of my weight & while it isn’t perfect, it’s getting there. Obesity is linked to many health problems. So, my job as mom is to show them how to be healthy. 



You want progress? Work for it.

I refuse to make excuses. I want a healthy self esteem, I want to live longer, I want to be the best possible MHC, then I’ve got to work for it. I think of workouts as appointments I schedule with myself. I am the boss of my own life (a really crappy boss who can’t make major decisions), and I wouldn’t miss a meeting with my boss, right? No. I wouldn’t. So, I look at my fitness schedule the same way. Part of that has been taking up crossfit. While there are some people who make fun of my “torture cult,” &  make fun of my elitist gym with poor training, I just laugh. My gym is full of the most encouraging & welcoming people on Earth, always encouraging each other & making people feel welcome. I came in as a terrified newbie that couldn’t even do a real burpee. The coaches & athletes helped me with proper form, cheered me on through the hardest workouts (or as the Overlord calls it, “encouragement yelling”) & I’m stronger & in better shape than I’ve been in in years.

 

Because I’m always challenging myself, I entered a crossfit competition! One of the coaches at my gym said it would be super fun (he lied; it’s actually terrible), but every Friday night or Saturday morning I truck myself to the gym to do the crossfit open workouts, including the workout that required me to life weights that were five lbs heavier than my personal best. BTW that totally sucked. I have one more week to go & I’ll have achieved my current goal of getting through it & living to tell the tale. I brought the girls with me, and while my eldest & youngest daughters colour, my middle daughter, whom we call the Overlord for her plots to take over the world, became absolutely enamoured with crossfit. 



When my friend (who teases me regularly about my crossfit love) decided to try it, she made him a practice WOD



She decided one of our coaches was the most amazing because she is “pretty like a princess & stronger than boys!” I even had to postpone a trip to Windsor because we couldn’t do the workout early, open days are Saturdays & she found little jobs for herself, like bringing protein bars & fresh fruit & making herself the official cheering section. She would tell me after every week that when she is big, she wants to be strong & healthy & lift heavy weights & have muscles & be stronger than boys. Mommy is strong & that’s cool! I may not have set any records (my 15.2 score was a whopping six & 15.4 was 13), but my daughter saw being healthy & strong & working hard as being super cool, so right now, I feel like I won parenting. 

My job as mom is to show my daughters that they can do anything; they can have any career they want, they can be strong, fast, brave, & they can have the confidence to do that. But I can’t tell them, I have to show them. So, while I’m currently in 48 thousandth place & won’t be going to the Crossfit Games, I feel like I won, because I showed my girls that with hard work & determination, they can accomplish anything. 

Ignition & Friction

Ignition & Friction

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

maxresdefault

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

House of Cards

House of Cards

Those who know me well know that I fail major life choices. 

No matter how much I joke about it, I know I’ll never get married again because the thought of major life choices scare me. In my last relationship, I’d crack wise & then say “YOU KNOW I AM COMPLETELY FINE WITH RIGHT NOW, RIGHT?!” Not so much for him, but for ME. I wasn’t even sure how to trust a man, especially THAT man, so anything more than that level of intimacy scared me. Actually, ALL intimacy scared me. Anytime we’d add something, I’d kind of want to breathe in a bag. I wanted to trust him, but trusting people is really hard for me. There’s a lot of damage from trusting people who hurt me, so letting people in freaks me out. Letting in the person who caused the most damage terrified me. I don’t really let friends close to me (except maybe two), family, etc. It actually scares me, because then they can hurt me, leave me & I’d rather not give people the opportunity. 

But I digress. 

This fear of major life choices applies to everything. I walked out of a job two days in because they needed me to know my schedule for the next six months. I can barely plan the next six days. I had another job lined up, so I took it. Major life choices of any kind make me panic, because I get questioning myself & ask myself “what if?” & worry I’m gonna mess it all up. 

In order to build my career, I sent out a bunch of resumes. I applied at a lot of magazines, newspapers & everything in between. I applied at every media outlet in this country, and even some in the US. For about a month, I didn’t get any calls, despite my annoying the living crap out of every editor because I was in some kind of weird, determined, “I’m going to do this because I’m a warrior,” mode. I didn’t actually think it through. Then this happened;



GUYS

I wasn’t offered one; I was offered TWO. Also, I have a lead on a full time position at a magazine that would be my dream job. I want it so badly that I’ve been calling the editor non-stop, reminding him that I’m still interested while kicking off my tenure at the other two by starting my first freelance article under that banner this week. 

Did I mention that it’s the other side of the country? Oh yeah. IT’S ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY. 



This is my “what the eff do I do now?” face. Or my “studying for my G1 is stupid” face. whatever


I was super motivated until I realized that I may ACTUALLY HAVE TO MOVE ACROSS THE COUNTRY. On the plus side, at least it’s not the arctic! (I hate snow. And winter. I don’t feel the arctic is right for me) 

So, now I’m left with choices. Obviously I can transfer my regular people job to the new city while I freelance & I would only for sure move if I acquired the full time position I am assertively campaigning for, but I’ve accomplished more in 8 weeks in a province I don’t live in than I did in my current city in 10 months. I’m freelancing for magazines, one with a pretty great media company that has a lot of magazines and newspapers under the umbrella, which means a lot of opportunities for me professionally. Even freelancing through this organization is a dream come true for me. 

But, then I think about the girls, their relationship with their dad will be very different. I saw how much that hurt someone; I don’t know if I could do that (even if he isn’t going to win father of the year anytime soon). I worry about the city I would be moving to. It’s much larger than where I live now. Would I be putting myself in a situation that would stunt my personal growth? Or would it allow me to move forward in a positive way? Could I afford to live there? I still can’t legally drive on my own, who will help me truck my stuff across the country? I moved the kids once & they hated it. They like the house but hate their school & miss their music lessons & ask to move home regularly. I thought this move would be awesome, but once I got here, I found media opportunities were scarce & making friends when you work a zillion hours isn’t so easy. When my writing with CineKlik started getting praise & buzz, it made me realize how much I missed writing & that I needed to move forward with my career. But I’m also afraid to end up in a situation where I’m not financially sound or worse, I wasn’t as good as I thought I was & I moved my daughters to chase a dream that’s never really going to come true & I’m meant for Johnny punch clock retail jobs, not journalism. 



I tried outsourcing to FB. The FB people said I know what I’m doing. Clearly they’re new


If you thought I was neurotic when I moved two hours from home, imagine me NOW. The cons are terrifying & the pro is that I’ll finally have almost everything I ever wanted. You’d think that would make it easy, but here we are. 



Welp, that didn’t help


I’m going to take some time out this week & drink ridiculous amounts of caffeine with a friend (who’s also in the biz) & hammer it all out. Then I’ll spend the weekend with friends who are used to my special brand of blood pressure raising angst. And I’ll text Erica & the Psych Major & cry. And somewhere in the middle I’ll figure it out, right? 

Right? Seriously, I suck at this. Help. 



in the interim, I’ll focus on small victories, like my cute hair


Up We Go

Up We Go

Hey look! It’s me blogging again!

I apologize if anyone has missed my stories, but I kind of needed a breather. I needed to sort through some emotions & cope with some stuff. I’m not quite in the “happiest girl in the world,” place, but I really need to go back to what I know & find joy in what I’m best at. Mostly, because I need to find confidence in what I do best. 

For the last few months, I’ve kind of felt like a failure. I couldn’t get through to someone & it was really important to me that I did, because they are very important to me & I wanted them to stop coming & going from my life while stalking me from the sidelines & just be here with me. It made me question my talents. I contemplated focusing on my regular people job & not writing anymore. I was quite good at it. I worked really hard & finally got the promotion I had been striving for…& it was all gone in three weeks. Everything basically sucked giant ass. Add in that my new job is…uh…different, and you have a pretty blah MHC. 

So, during my bliggity downtime, I decided to figure out how to make myself happy MHC again. Part of it was to force myself to write stuff. Most of it totally sucked. But I had to realize that if someone doesn’t want to be happy, by their own admission, nothing I say can change their mind. They need to grow up on their own. So, I worked on finding my voice by doing other things. I focused on crossfit, yoga, & even entered a crossfit competition! I’m not setting any records, but I brought the Overlord to the Crossfit Open & she was amazed at how strong women could be & that Mommy could be strong too (but couldn’t figure out why the coach yelled at me during a power clean & jerk. I explained to encourage me. She still didn’t get it haha).

But I still wasn’t writing. This made me feel…weird. I should always be writing. That’s what I do, right? I’ve defined my life by my profession. I am MH & I am a writer. That’s who I am & what I do. I got home from work at my current job & realized that I was becoming someone I don’t like; sad, lonely for my old coworkers & homesick for a life that I can’t put together when only one person gets that you have to work at it. Oh, and I REALLY hate my job. But being sad’s not really my scene anymore. So, I decided to do something about it. I have A LOT of money in a separate bank account thanks to the good people at Glentel (which is now my relocation fund) & daughters who emulate me. They need to see that dreams don’t stop because everything kind of sucks. So, I decided it’s high time I went after mine. 



word

I spruced up my resume. I put together some compelling cover letters. I bought an adorable interview outfit…& applied to probably every magazine & newspaper in this country, including the arctic. Why? Because only I have the power to change my direction. Some people mope; I get stuff done. There is one magazine that is hiring for my dream position. I’ve done everything I can to improve my employability, including joining the province’s magazine publisher’s association, this week I’m getting a driver’s license (FOR REAL GUYS) & I may have followed up already because I have no chill. But I’m qualified & talented & I’m going for it.

It’s a BIT of a move, but it’s worth it. I’m always considering the Dad when I’m deciding things for me, but didn’t I divorce him so I didn’t have to do that anymore? He doesn’t even spend time with the girls when he has them, why should I put their future & mine on hold to make his life easier? I won’t sacrifice the chance to have my dream job for anyone anymore. I have an obligation to show my girls that everything is attainable if you try. So, I’m going to try. 

Maybe I’ll crash & burn & no one will hire me. Maybe I’m not talented @ all. But, much like crossfit, much like every relationship I’ve had, parenting, and even working at the job I loathe, I’ll always give it my all & TRY. You miss all the shots you don’t take & the only person who holds you back from what you deserve is you. I won’t hold myself back; I’m going to keep trying until I reach my goals. 

So, if I seem more neurotic than usual, it’s because I MAY be turning my life upside down in the pursuit of a byline. I promise I’ll keep it to a minimum. In the interim, I’m going to enjoy the journey, because it’s gonna be totally rad. 



Dear Stephanie McMahon: A Letter From One Mom To Another

Dear Stephanie McMahon: A Letter From One Mom To Another

Dear Stephanie McMahon,

You don’t know me and I don’t know you, but we sort of grew up together. I’m only a couple of years younger than you and I grew up watching WWE programming and loved the entertainment your family brought into my home each week. As a teenager, I loathed your onscreen character for being married to my childhood crush, Triple H (although I promise I got over it haha) and much like you, I have three daughters of my own. You’ve gone from being the bane of my teenage existence to becoming a role model for women like me; you’re a hardworking mom who strives to be a role model. You don’t make excuses; you find time to keep in shape, run a company and still be there for your daughters. You inspire women like me every single day. I’m actually a huge fan of you and your work ethic.

The WWE Network is the most popular channel in my home, but it’s not for me; it’s for my three daughters, who are 13, eight and five. My eldest daughter’s goal in life is to become the youngest WWE Divas Champion in history and is already training for her goal. She runs 5Km with me three days a week, joins as many sports teams a possible and carries her replica title around as practice for when she wins the real thing, skipping like her idol, AJ Lee. The highlight of my eight year old daughter’s life was when she met WWE Diva Paige in our hometown in Ontario, Canada last year. Paige told her they were best friends and to this day, my daughter swears that she and Paige are best friends and begs to stay up late every week to see Paige wrestle and is waiting with baited breath for Paige to get her Wrestlemania moment @ Wrestlemania XXXI. My youngest loves the Bella Twins and sported her “Fearless Nikki” shirt on her birthday so she could be “Fearless Five.” They were excited beyond belief this past Summerslam, when you and Brie Bella co-headlined the second largest event of the year. They pleaded for Brie Mode and Fearless Nikki shirts so they could watch Divas kick butt just like the guys. They were so happy and as a longtime fan of WWE programming, I thought we were finally going to see a change, where women would get equal time to the men on programming and no longer would little girls all over the world wait all night to see the Divas just for them to be trucked out for three minutes and then leave…

..until last night.

from wwe.com
from wwe.com

Paige and fellow Diva Emma sat in the ring for several minutes while Raw aired a promo for male Superstar Sting. A promo that was long and unnecessary and could have aired at any point in the show. The Divas were given less than 10 seconds to wrestle and maybe three minutes to perform before they were shipped backstage. Ironically enough, you made a statement in a backstage segment questioning if male superstar Seth Rollins would defy you simply because you’re a woman. You make a bold, femminist statement and then have your Divas compete in less than 30 seconds with a promo in between. You stand up for powerful women, but your company disrespects their female athletes less than two hours later by saying that a video package for a male superstar is more important than their time.

I’m not talking as a disgruntled fan; I’m a mom just like you. My daughters adore the Divas, only watch WWE programming for the Divas (and Daniel Bryan. They really love Daniel Bryan) and each week they wait for hours for their beloved Divas just to see them for less than two minutes in storylines that insult their intelligence. The Bella Twins hate Paige because she looks different, AJ Lee hates the Total Divas because she wants to be on the show and wasn’t invited? Why can’t they have a storyline that is deep and meaningful? Trish Stratus and Lita had a rivalry that eclipsed their male counterparts, why can’t the current women? While I appreciate that Paige has sent a strong message about being true to oneself, why can’t women have storylines that make them strong, powerful women, and not high school bullies or jealous vixens?

I guess the part that confuses me is that you are such a strong woman and you take such pride in representing women in such a strong capacity. Why wouldn’t you want the Divas to be a reflection of your work ethic? My daughters as well as daughters all over the world look up to these women, they deserve more than two minute matches and storylines that demean them. When you became an active member of the creative team, moms like myself had such hope that you would show the world that the women were just as strong as the men. Total Divas is a successful franchise and brings new viewers to WWE. Why wouldn’t you capitalize on that and allow the viewers of Total Divas to see just how strong and athletic these Divas can be? We can’t see that in two minutes. The Divas work so hard. They deserve so much more. And you know how strong and talented they are, that’s why you chose to wrestle them yourself. Brie and Nikki Bella were talented enough to work a match with you, sell a pay per view event with you, and make history as the first women’s match to co-headline a PPV with you, but they’re not good enough for twenty minutes of airtime for Nikki to defend her title or cut a promo? That feels so hypocritical and I know that’s not how you would want fans to see you.

from wwe.com
from wwe.com

On behalf of every fan, I’m asking you to please let the Divas have airtime. Monday Night Raw is three hours long, surely you can give thirty minutes to the Divas. Every time you don’t, you cheapen the goals of little girls all over the world just like my teenage daughter, who want nothing more than to hold that title. You cheapen the hard work of women like AJ Lee, Paige and Nikki Bella, who work so hard and train so hard while working long hours and travel long days to hold that title and devalue Brie Bella, your handpicked opponent. You make them appear unworthy and beneath the men, and I know a woman like you, who conquered a man’s world would never want that for women.

I hope you’ll listen to the fans and #GiveDivasAChance, so my daughters will never have to say “Please let us stay up for the Divas, they’ll only be on for a minute!” ever again.

Sincerely,

MHC, A Mom Of Disappointed Divas Fans

She Ain’t You

She Ain’t You

This week has been super crappy. But also very therapeutic.

2015/01/img_8492.jpg

As I packed up Target Mobile into boxes & shipped it all back to head office, I paused for a moment & burst into tears. The overwhelming enormity of what was happening, which I ignored because I had it under control hit me; while I had a job, my friends, my coworkers, they weren’t set. They had families too. My heart was breaking for them. Then, as I do, I took a deep breath & kept going. I also took this time of upheaval to be the sassiest bitch to rude guests. My coworkers joked about how I had become Squidward. I regret nothing.

IMG_8776

I pulled some strings & start my new job on Tuesday. I’m getting a generous severance (although I haven’t been fully explained the details just yet, but if my former boss says its generous, it must be) & I’m going to use it to plan a nice little trip for myself once I’m done training. I’m calling it a friend vacation, where my girlfriends & I are going to enjoy some R&R. I need that. I’m still not 100% happy MHC, but I’ve managed to feel better.

One of the things I’ve had to do is remind myself that the life I want may not be part of the plan (my hippie friend is so proud). That job was a stepping stone to a better job. This new job is a great Johnny punch clock job but my future as a writer awaits if I ever feel comfortable writing again (It’s just easier to let people know en masse what was up with this sitch). I need to keep trusting that the universe knows where I belong & it’ll happen when the time is right & enjoy the moment I’m in.

2015/01/img_8493.jpg

 But in order for change to happen, you need to change what you’re doing. I used to write obsessively about nothing when I’m hurting. So, now I write almost nothing & I’ll continue to write nothing until I feel okay. There are reasons I stopped & until I feel okay about them, I’ll just stay quiet. I always tell my best friend that I’m an emotional eater who makes bad life choices. But am I really gonna undo 100lbs of hard work because I lost my job? NO. So, while there were slip ups, I stuck to eating right & when I felt stressed, I grabbed my Stratusphere yoga DVD & FitGloves & found some zen. I went to my crossfit classes & improved my personal best for overhead squats. I can lift heavier, that’s progress. Progress is rad. Moping when bad shit happens or choosing not to deal with emotions (aka the old MHC way) won’t get me to the next phase in my awesome journey known as my wacky life. So, I changed how I cope. I had a huge cry. I texted Erica & Paul & the Psych Major & Damanda & freaked out. They listened without judgment because they’re the best. I ate a large pizza. I listened to Flight by Lifehouse 100 times in a row. I wrote my most raw feelings in a password protected post. Then I got up off my ass & worked out. Endorphins cure all. Suddenly, things didn’t feel so shitty anymore. This morning, things felt optimistic & bright. That couple of days of saying goodbye to my job & my coworkers were hard. But now, it’s time for the next chapter.

Maybe that’s the lesson in life; while people travel with you, there’s always a next chapter. There’s always the next job, the next adventure. There’s always the next lesson. While I don’t believe that should be applied to people, it does apply to events & this one is over & the last two months haven’t been the most awesome, but I bet the next two will be. Why? Because I said so. There is a new job, new coworkers & a really cute pair of jeans I bought a size too small so I could work to fit in them. All of these things will be exciting & I’m looking forward to them all.

2015/01/img_8486.jpg