It’s A Good Life

Unless you’ve lived under a rock since October, you know all about my latest obsession: crossfit.

That’s right bitches; MHC is gonna be more bad ass than usual.

I know there are people out there who claim it’s dangerous, I’ll die, it’s expensive, but you can’t fake results, which I’m getting in spades. I can already lift 40+lbs more than when I started & I completed my testing with sore muscles & a sense of accomplishment.

95lbs down since January!

95lbs down since January!

My greatest accomplishment came yesterday, when the owner of my gym was going to skip the WOD, because she hadn’t done one in a bit & it was challenging. She said that the whole time…until I finished it. I’ve only been going for two months, and I finished the whole damn thing. I didn’t just finish it; I finished it with a score comparable to those who have been training for over a year. She said there was no excuse for her now & was impressed by my ability to go out & work my ass off (literally) to finish it.

This is the story of my life; I get up off of my ass & earn stuff. I think that’s why I’m more determined than most; I have never been given anything. I earned the right to be a mother in a court of law. I earned my education by fighting tooth and nail just to attend school. I earned my portfolio by never taking no for an answer. I earned my current punch clock job by telling my boss that I wasn’t leaving the interview until I got it so he may as well just hire me. Nothing for me has ever come terribly easy, either because I made dumb choices or because I trusted bad people. But either way, I got through it all & I’ve been blessed with my beautiful life. I think that’s why I’m always determined to find happiness where there is nothing, because I know what it’s like to have nothing. Because of this, I find ways to push through ugliness & get what I want in the end. I set goals & achieve them; the end.

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My friends say I’m impossible because I know what I want & I go get it, and if I can’t get it, I focus on all of the many other things I want to achieve before my time expires. There’s always “there’s something else, someone else, plan B.” In my life, there is no Plan B (let’s all ask my legal professors how well Plan B goes). I wanted to be a published writer, and I am. I wanted to get in shape, so I did. I wanted to be free to live my life without abusive or controlling people, so I did. You get the idea. I know what I want & I get it. If it doesn’t work the first time; I try again. Once I get my mind on that’s where I belong, there’s not much changing it, mostly because I’ve tried to change it myself & my gut doesn’t lie. If I feel that strongly, it’s because there’s facts, evidence, and my beautiful heart is telling me to follow it, so I do. 99% of the time I’ll get what I want. It’s not a flawless victory, but it’s still a pretty amazing success rate.

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So, much like my masochistic relationship with running, I’m going to continue my masochistic relationship with crossfit while setting goals, achieving them & repeat. I will never be the girl that quits. I will always be the girl that succeeds, and I will never understand why that’s a bad thing to some. Maybe I am impossible. Maybe I do need a Plan B. But I don’t really understand why. Things only don’t work if you don’t work for them. Things only fall apart if you don’t try. And even if they do, there’s another Plan A in another part of my life that needs my attention & if I’m right about where I should live, who I belong with, the job I should have, the rest will work itself out in time. So, I’ll focus on all of the other millions of things I want to accomplish, so when my life is over, I can say I lived it well & got almost everything I wanted. I would hate to be thinking “what if.”

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In the interim, I’ll just continue to achieve everything else I want in my beautiful life, & my daughters will learn from me how to be self reliant, brave & successful, as well as grateful for what life has afforded them. It may be impossible, but it’s a beautiful lesson, & I like it better than “meh. You tried. Settle for something less.” They’ll have learned even if it’s hard, you finish the workout. You try one more time for that dream job. You reach for that brass ring. If you don’t get it, then reach for it again. And eventually all of your dreams will come true.

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Lie To Me

When I was a little girl, all I wanted to be was a reporter.

When other little girls were playing house with their baby dolls, little MHC was dropping her dolls off @ baby doll daycare & covering a fire. Little MHC played “Desert Storm” & she would write articles on loose leaf paper based on CNN coverage. All of my friends thought I was a freak (this has never changed), but this was my calling, not a career. I was going to inform the masses. I was going to make them think. They were going to ask questions of the world, themselves. They were going to trust the information I worked to collect & present & society would be better because people would learn & evolve. After all, people should always be learning, asking questions, collecting information & growing. I was going to change the world by showing people what the world really was & people would want it to be better. I was going to reach someone & make them think & grow. I actually apply this principle to everything in my life. If I stand by something & tell you I believe it with all that I am, you should probably investigate it, because I have & I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t something I believed was gospel.

Alas, I have done none of these things. I write puff pieces & this blog. Little MHC is probably ashamed. I always justify my entertainment reporting with the idea that I write smart, snappy & honest articles. I only sold my soul a little. But my calling remains; I will be a writer & I’ll try to show the world what the world is really like so it’ll change.

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I have a point, I promise.

Little MHC had one idol growing up; Barbara Walters. This woman asked hard questions. She spoke to world leaders, war heroes. She was bringing the world information that would change how they saw the world. She was a bad ass, no nonsense lady who wasn’t afraid to put these powerful people on the hot seat & make them accountable. I even forgave the existence of the View because it was a good idea in theory. But this woman was literally everything I ever wanted to be (well, professionally. I always kind of knew I’d never have a person, because they’d have to love my writing as much as I do & understand my need to inform & be moved by my writing & care & even suggest things for me to write about).

Even though they’ve gone downhill, I still look forward to her Most Fascinating People series. I don’t always agree, but she always conducts such compelling interviews. This year, she chose Amal Clooney (née Alamuddin) as her most fascinating person of 2014. Interesting choice. Her reason? Clooney’s wedding to her husband, Academy Award winning actor George Clooney was “really one of the greatest achievements in human history.”

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What?

Mrs. Clooney is a fascinating woman. She is educated and uses her education to bring attention to human rights issues. Her focus as an attorney is human rights and extradition. She represented Julian Assange (WikiLeaks) & Yulia Tymoshenko (the former president of Ukraine). She met with world leaders before Global Summit to End Sexual Violence in Conflict. She cut her honeymoon short to attend a case in Greece involving the reparations of ancient statues. Mrs. Clooney is definitely a fascinating woman. But she is considered fascinating because she married a playboy actor, not her body of work.

As an entertainment journalist, I know I am part of the problem. We have put so much focus on Kardashians & ScarJos & J.Los & treat these people as fascinating instead of leaders of men, visionaries & average people who just want to make the world better. Walters completely devalued Mrs. Clooney’s body of work, her dedication to helping her fellow man, her education by claiming her greatest moment in life was landing George Clooney. Because after all, no woman can have any real accomplishments greater than marrying a rich and handsome man.

While yes, celebrities can be fascinating (Taylor Swift), there are so many more people in the world. Of her list of 10, the only non celebrities were Mrs. Clooney & Elon Musk. In a world where Ferguson is happening, there is political unrest in Russia, the American political system continues to be flawed, where planes disappear, discrimination is still rampant, sexism is real & racism is fatal. We live in a world where, despite all of these things, beautiful acts of heroism & kindness happen. We live in a world where beautiful people try to make it beautiful every day. All of those things produce fascinating people & someone’s ability to land a man shouldn’t make her the most interesting person in the world. It makes me so sad that Barbara Walters, a pioneer for women reporters has fallen in line with the celebrity worship that she no longer sees the fascinating people among us, the peacekeepers & the leaders & the thinkers.

I guess it makes me sad that we live in a world where our media focuses on keeping up with Kardashians, their own political bias or forgetting that news doesn’t stop just because it stopped trending on Twitter. We’ve stopped informing people & making them think. We’ve allowed ourselves to blame the media for our skewed way of thinking, because we aren’t. We just mindlessly listen to a network who feeds us whatever & a differing opinion is just bias. That’s why John Oliver & Jon Stewart are most people’s go-to for news. But they’re comedians, not reporters.

Before you read anything, even my drivel, open your mind & be willing to think. Then think. Then question. Then read a contradicting opinion. Then think again. Ask more questions. Expect the media to work for you & get the answers you need to know. If you’re satisfied with the answers, then you need to think harder. Because we work for you, to inform you, to make you think, not the other way around.

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All of the Stars

Let me tell you a story about the raddest chick I know.

My friend Erica (aka the Texan) is literally the nicest person ever. We met on a mom & baby support message board & we’ve been Besties ever since. When I couldn’t afford a carrier for my middle daughter, who preferred to be held, she had one shipped. When I was struggling with anxiety, she was the one who emailed me & told me that I was strong. I was a total stranger, but that’s what she did. Now we’re kindred spirits who laugh, cry together & discuss why Charlie Hunman is sexy (if you can’t appreciate Charlie Hunman, we can no longer be friends). She has always been that kind of person & I couldn’t ask for a better friend.

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Anywho, she’s also never gonna lie to me or humour me & she wants me to be happy. So, when she realized that I was choking under the weight of the silence I had imposed & saw that maybe I could end up happy in the end, she told me to be the brave girl that I am capable of & do what scares me most, even though she’d rather I head in the other direction. Erica would rather I throw holy water in that direction, & often refers to the person I want to reach as “human poison.” But Erica cares more about my happiness & the happiness of others than her opinion. She wants everyone to be happy. So, she put aside her opinion & told me that she thought I might end up happy if I stopped being a huge baby & made a freaking effort & encouraged me to do what I thought was the right thing…

…so I did.

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I got brave & I tried to fix my mess, right my wrongs, poured my heart out & risked getting destroyed & maybe I’ll finally be there for a person I just want to make happy. Because I am apparently some kind of masochist. No, not really. It’s because much like Erica has to be herself, the coolest chick ever, a good friend & child of God & a woman of grace & integrity, I need to be the woman I’m supposed to be, which is someone who is brave & follows their heart & will never turn her back on a person she loves, even when they aren’t their best. Maybe I’ll get burned & end up in silence, which would kill me, but maybe this is the one time I won’t. Maybe this is the turning point where everyone gets to be happy. But I know I messed up & I’ve taught my daughters that when you do dumb shit, you own it. You don’t hide. When you have something to say, you get brave & you say it. When someone needs someone, you reach out as many times as you can, even if they’ve hurt you before. My friend knew I wasn’t a woman driven by fear. She knew I’m a strong woman. She knew what I wanted to do, but I was afraid to do. So, she did what a true friend would, she trusted me to do what I thought was the right thing.

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So, thanks Erica for once again being the raddest person alive. Thanks for being the most honest & loving & generally amazing friend in the whole wide world. Thanks for supporting me through the messes I make of my own life & thanks for helping me find my bravery & belief that everything will work out if you put yourself out there. Thanks for not telling me what to do like past friends, you trust my judgment (which I hope I made the right call). The world needs more Ericas: Texan Vegan children of God with big hearts & stronger opinions & a healthy appreciation for Charlie Hunman’s scruffy chin.

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Into the Nothing

I write about my life with pretty candid honesty.

I have a lot of people tell me that they relate to me. I’m not sure why people seem to relate to me. I think I’m an idiot. That’s not true; I think I’m brilliant. I’m strong. I’m beautiful. I’m determined & talented & sometimes funny. I’m witty & charming & I have a great gift in that I can show compassion to literally anyone, even those who have hurt me. But I’ve always talked about my life, my experiences & felt better about who I am.

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This time…I’ve said pretty much nothing. I’ve written stuff that I’ve deleted. I’ve written cathartic things for me. But I haven’t really said anything about my life to anyone. Not even Erica & she’s my person. She knows everything. But here we are.

I guess it’s because I’ve felt…nothing. I’m not shattered. I go to work. I go home. I go to the gym. I go home. I do yoga. I raise my family. I sleep. Repeat. I live my raddest life as I did before. I continue to get whatever I want in my professional life. I continue to succeed in my fitness goals & kick crossfit’s ass. Life did not stop. No, it kept going & I kept going & I did a damn good job. But I had nothing to say. Mainly because there’s nothing to say.

Actually, there’s lots to say. There’s the guilt I feel. I did a lousy thing to a very good person. Erica will comment underneath with an opposite stance, but that’s how I feel. I was a hypocrite. I did the thing that hurt me the most to a person I care most about in this world because I was mad. Then I was hurting because we don’t talk. Duh, we don’t talk because of ME. It’s not their job to talk to me, it’s my job to ask forgiveness! I miss a person I love very much. I didn’t count on missing them this much. I rationalized how long they weren’t in my life & I could do it again, no big! I was wrong. I just want to talk to them, hold them, be near them. When the general awesomeness that is my life happens & something amazing happens & I’m proud, I go to text them because I want them to be proud of me too. But, I can’t. Sometimes I just want to hear their voice…& I can’t. And that hollows me out even more. I keep feeling like this ending is the wrong one. Like, no world could be so cruel as to put something so wonderful back into my life just to have it snatched away & gone forever again. No human heart, even one of steel like mine can handle that blow. This didn’t have to be this way. Maybe one conversation could have turned it around, one I didn’t have because I was livid. But worst of all, I feel like I hurt someone who I abhor the thought of hurting. But I also don’t want to give anyone I know the satisfaction of knowing I am hurting. I am invincible, remember? No one hurts me! I’m an impenetrable force, which means nothing bothers me ever. I’m also not one to whine about things I cannot control. They ran, I acted like a stupid bitch & cut them out. This didn’t likely show them that they do need me. It just hurt…me.

There’s the damage in doing to my own psyche in the name of self preservation. Anyone who knows me knows that the silent treatment is (for me) the worst form of torture. Even if I elected the silence, it makes me sick. I’d rather have my fingers broken. Erica said that obviously my position was something I felt so strongly about that I was willing to put myself through my own personal form of Hell to prove it. But all I proved is what everyone told me for a year; I had become a different girl.

I thought if I kept people away from me, and pushed them away when they hurt me, I wouldn’t get hurt anymore. I thought if I moved far away from everyone, I’d be alone & no one could hurt me anymore. I had built up these huge walls so no one could hurt me anymore because I didn’t want anyone to be able to hurt me anymore. I had become so afraid of getting hurt that I was orchestrating my own hurt. I shut out anything that might hurt me because I was afraid. I didn’t want my beautiful heart to be hurt anymore by anyone. It had endured enough & I wouldn’t allow it. I wanted to be alone, so no one could ever damage me again. But I had lost the ability to work through things with compassion. I had lost my patience, my understanding. Literally everything I loved about myself was gone. Now I’ve lost the one thing I couldn’t bear to lose & the guilt & the feelings of cowardice bother me. I refuse to let them interfere with my beautiful life, so I do what I do best every day: thrive. I succeed. I put on my happiest face & I am fine.

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But, there’s also the tarnish on the shiny coin of my life; it doesn’t matter. I can’t shake that I don’t matter. I am not valuable. These words do not matter. They’re just words on a screen, of no value of importance to anyone, not even me. The feeling that you do not matter, nor are you missed by someone you miss tremendously should be skull crushing. But in the end, it feels like nothing. So, I didn’t write, because it felt like nothing, because I generally don’t feel particularly strongly enough about anything to write about. But I promised one of my dearest friends I would try, for if I had my heart’s greatest joy back, maybe I’d feel like myself again.

But in reality, I just want a phone call that can’t come through from a person who probably doesn’t miss me in the least & has never been known for bravery that I hid from because I’m a coward. And the fact that I brought all of this on myself so that I will never have that is the cruellest nothing of all.

You’re probably thinking “MHC, you are a boss ass bitch! If this is bothering you THIS much, stop being a huge effing baby & pick up the damn phone & call & talk & figure your shit out! What about trust your instincts, be brave, follow your heart?! Stop being such a God damn emo baby & take that step.” I know because that’s what I tell myself. It’s what I always tell everyone. But, I don’t know how to get past the fear; of rejection, of having my heart torn apart in a manner most cruel, or worse, the silence of getting voicemail, hearing a voice & knowing you won’t hear it again. I used to be very brave, then someone who’s opinion I valued said some very terrible things to me, claiming they laughed at me & I was a joke to them. This crushed my spirit in ways no one could ever understand. So, the very thought of putting myself out there made me panic. It terrifies me & I don’t think I’ll ever be able to adequately explain it. I want to call, but I’m afraid they won’t answer. I want to send an email, but I’m afraid of getting a cruel reply or worse, no reply. I want to unblock them on FB, but I’m afraid they’ll shut me out. I hold my phone & legitimately panic like I saw an army of geese because I’m so scared they won’t answer. So, I sit in the silence. I can’t let the walls down, because I might get hurt. I want to get past it. I don’t know how to get past it. I’d love for someone to tell me.

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The other one I hear is “MHC how many chances can you give someone to hurt you?” (This voice has a Texan accent) My answer; as many as they need. For I know how good they really are & what it’s like to be them. So, I want to be good to them & (irony alert) show them they have nothing to be afraid of if they would just let me into their life. Because that is the very core of who I am & I need to love myself above all else. So, I love that part of me & I never want to lose it. This goes for everyone; if you were once my friend & you need one, then I will be here for you. It doesn’t matter what you did. I’ll be there. I wouldn’t want to be any other kind of person.

So, there’s nothing. Just living. Succeeding. Being a good mom. But nothing all the same. But I do know I need to start facing my fears & letting people in, before I do more damage to my beautiful life. I’m just not sure how.

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Homesick

I haven’t had a good late night/early morning blog vent in awhile!

For the first time in the six months that I packed up & ran away, I’m actually homesick. Not even just a little homesick. Like I want to call someone at home & cry like a little kid at summer camp homesick.

I love my new home. I love that I’m surrounded by nature. I love my gym. I love the air & I love the city. But the more I invest in my writing again, the more my professional dissatisfaction at my regular job grows because I want to be writing full time. It was easy to love my johnny punch clock job when I wasn’t writing. But now that I’m in the field again, I’m growing more and more restless, because I want to be working in my field full time. I want to be on the front lines when things happen & ask questions & bring people news. I want so badly to write something that makes a difference in someone’s life & resonates with them & makes them think & grow. I have a talent & I want to use it to impact the world in a positive way. But then I feel guilty because I should be thankful that I have a job. After all, the unemployment rate is skyrocketing & I’m fortunate enough to have a job & I should be grateful, right? But truthfully, my job is a very fine job. They pay me well. They are good to me. But I think about how I wanted to bring people news that would make them think & ask questions & better their communities. Or I’d help people think so they’d become their best selves & happy. And I get so sad because I do none of those things. I sell people high priced luxury items. But I don’t want to be the person who’s aggressively selling phones to the waitress at dinner or all we talk about are how we’re going to sell more phones. I want a career that’s meaningful, that I’m proud of, where I make a difference in someone’s world, anyone’s. And I’m not doing that.

Also, the girls are getting bullied at their school. The angriest teen wants to go back to her friends. And I don’t blame her, because sometimes I’m lonely too. I miss my friends, who are like family to me. With the exception of one coworker & a couple of old classmates, I haven’t made a lot of friends yet & I find myself missing my Windsor people so. I feel like I spend a lot of time telling people that I miss them, mostly because I kind of hope that they miss me too & I just kind of want to hear it. That might sound stupid, but when you’re lonely, sometimes it’s nice to hear that someone wishes you were with them. It makes you feel like you’re important, that you matter. I’m a social person & I love company & I don’t have any. I spend most of my time alone & it’s kind of lonely. I used to pretend it didn’t bother me, because I was so bad ass, but sometimes I wish I could just call up someone for a last minute coffee after work. I love living alone. I love having my independence, but I miss my friends from home more than I’ve cared to admit & some nights I find myself missing my familiar skyline, the one I looked at every night for 13 years & meant home.

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But I know “going home” isn’t really an option, despite my friend Amanda telling me it’s a really great idea. Yes, I have friends, but the root issues are still the same, which is a lack of strong career prospects in my field, which is my only real dream. The punch clock job was supposed to be temporary until I found a media job. But then I stopped looking until I started at Cineklik & the excitement of working in my field as well as the support from those who know me best made me miss it all, more than I should. I just sometimes feel on an island alone with the girls. All of the people I love the most are hours away in Sarnia or Windsor & all of the places hiring in my field are hours away in the other direction in Toronto. And I’m in the middle, feeling very removed & alone.

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I hate to sound so negative, because running away was a really good plan, because I’ve learned so much so far. I’ve learned I can put myself in an unfamiliar situation & I can thrive. I learned that I can be on my own & I can handle stuff without anyone’s help, everything from dental surgery to getting lost & everything in between. All of these things have made me even more bad ass than I was before, because I can adapt to new & different situations better than I did before. There are so many good things that have come from this experience & I need to focus on all of them & not how not everything has gone perfectly.

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Truthfully though, it’s not the city I miss; it’s Saturday breakfasts with the legal assistant ladies. It’s going to dusty old bookstores with my favourite person in the world & last minute adventures with Rena & Amanda to 8 mile. It’s the people I miss & I miss them so. But I also know that part of life’s journey means being separated from our loved ones sometimes. I’ve learned which friendships will prevail through periods of absence & which won’t. I’ve learned that some affection can withstand ages apart, and once put back together, it can be wonderful. And I learned that I can survive on my own, which is a lesson I lose sight of when I do get homesick & just want to hear a friend’s voice or see their face because it’s comforting & makes me feel happy.

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Tomorrow I’ll feel better & I’ll make it a better day. Tomorrow I’ll focus on finding something to enjoy about where I live now. And I’ll remind myself that it’s okay to feel lonely, or sad. Not everything needs to be pretty or perfect all of the time. As long as you make an effort to make the next day a better one.

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Bad Blood

My teenage daughter is exactly like me.

Seriously.

She looks just like me, has my mannerisms, speech patterns, & even stands with her toe pointed like I do. She’s also really nice & it gets her into trouble.

She ran afoul of two teen girls who were torturing her friend, to the point where we had to call her parents because she had written a suicide note. My daughter went to teachers, parents, and even took these girls to task on her own. We may be nice, but we take no shit. Attack someone we care about & we go full Pitbull. These girls were already outraged because the object of their affection (whom is a pint sized predator) is smitten with my child. So, the cyber bullying began. We’d block them on her social media, they’d open a new account & begin again. We tightened the settings, they’d use a friend’s. I brought screencaps to school & told the parents. One mom took action, the other accused my child & I of being jealous of them. Uh. Okay.

Anywho, my daughter’s tale is just one of a million stories of bullying. They’re on the news all of the time. You see all of the adults commenting that it’s such a shame, those poor babies, where do they learn this…only to click to the next article to read them mocking a celebrity, calling her fat, ugly. The most disgusting thing I have ever seen was the comments on a beautiful article about Dan Diaz, the widower of late assisted suicide/death with dignity activist Brittany Maynard. This man lost his wife & we’re mocking him, claiming he hoped she’d take her own life so he could have a healthy wife, that he’s milking it (his wife has been dead for four days), etc. We’ve become a society so deplorable that we are mocking a man who will bury his beloved wife.

So, where do these little pukes learn this disgusting behaviour?

FROM YOU.

Yes, you. They learn it from you. Every time you take a shot on Miley Cyrus or Taylor Swift, or any other celebrity (this includes the time I called John Mayer the president of Doucheland), you are teaching your kids to bully & devalue human life. When you justify it by saying its a comment board & you don’t have to be nice, you are teaching children to defend bullying because the victim wore the wrong clothes or whatever. When you mock a woman’s appearance or cat call a woman, you’re teaching your child to objectify women. When you mock a man who’s mourning his wife, you’re teaching your child to devalue love, a marriage & that this man’s suffering means nothing. When Robin Williams passed in August, people tortured his daughter Zelda so relentlessly she had to leave social media. During a time when a human being needed the most love, we as a society ripped her heart out. Then we wonder why the next generation is a bunch of evil little shits. Because they learn it from you.

For years, I’ve been accused of being too nice. I’m always explaining myself & that’s okay. But the truth is that there are billions of hateful people in this world. They’re mean, heartless & cruel. There are billions of selfish bigots in this world. I do not wish to be one of them. I take flack for wanting to be the woman I want my daughters to be, because apparently that’s odd. But I am raising three beautiful & brilliant women. I want them to be strong & brave but also radiate compassion & Grace. So, I must do the same. I refuse to become the person who can’t find one thing in the world that makes the day amazing, even if it’s just that I saw a bunny & it was cute. I like who I am & I want to be the girl who is nice & gives as much as I can to others. I like being that woman because I need to teach my daughters how to spread love. I won’t take people’s cruelty lying down, but I will not spread misery & I hope this teaches my daughters the desire to spread love. I know other moms who feel the same way & I hope we can raise a generation of kids who are loving & not cruel.

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So, next time you sit behind a user name & take a shot on a random stranger, think about how you’d feel if it was your kid & a classmate. Think about if it was a classmate saying that to your kid. Think about if Miley Cyrus was saying that to you. After all, you’re a stranger to her as she is to you. Say she walked up to you & mocked your hair & your dog & your clothes & said she hoped you died of a drug overdose. Sounds ridiculous, right? Well, that’s what you sound like when you hide behind your user name & blast them…& you’re teaching the next generation that it’s okay.

Wonderland

I’m a weird people watcher.

I work retail & in media so I spend a lot of time observing people, sometimes so much so that I seem in my own little world. The conclusion that I reach most often is that people are stupid. But other times some of the stuff they say & do (that is probably stupid) makes me question the world around me & where our priorities are.

Today, two University students (I figured this out thanks to their Western sweaters & constant references to attending university. I’m guessing they’re freshmen) were complaining about their friend & how she was “totally wasting her time on that guy.” They stated that the couple was not listed as “in a relationship” on FB & there’s only one photo of them together on her phone, and she only mentions him sometimes, etc. This clearly meant it wasn’t going to work. After rolling my eyes back into my head so far that I saw my own brain, it made me wonder just how dependent we are on social media for instant validation & gratification.

I have a lot of social media. You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr & Instagram. I post a lot of pics of my kids, inspirational quotes that make me happy, selfies, and song lyrics. Also, if you follow me on Tumblr you’ll find out I have a huge crush on WWE superstar Seth Rollins. Also, I’m kind of awkward & weird. Riveting stuff. But you’ll find very little about my “real life”, except for that time I inadvertently posted my home address on the internet. My friendships & relationships aren’t any less important to me because I don’t openly discuss it or post every detail about it on social media. I have only had a relationship status on FB once. I don’t have a relationship status & I have no real plans to ever change that. My best friend the Psych Major doesn’t even have a Facebook account. Does that mean that she doesn’t exist? (then I remember her obsession with Pinterest, so yes, yes she does)

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I post a lot of photos of me & my children because my family lives far away & I know they’d want to see the girls. Also, I’m a proud mom. But I always think the best nights ever & the best friendships/relationships are the ones not all over social media. If you’re enjoying the company, the activity, etc. You’re likely not on social media. I always feel like those who go all gooey on social media are overcompensating for a lack of happiness or comfort in the relationship. This obviously doesn’t apply to everyone, as my good friend Nancy from Whispered Inspirations will randomly get all gooey about her husband & I often joke that they were only put on Earth to make other couples jealous. But I always wonder why we need to publicly announce we’re with someone, we’re in love, we’re so cute, etc. Are we trying to convince our FB friends or ourselves?

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This is just another part of the evolution of old MHC to new MHC. Why? Because Old MHC was social media girl, who shared way too much about her life. New MHC realized I was posting my entire life on social media to prove I was enjoying it more than I was. The only parts that I wasn’t documenting were my relationship with my significant other (aside from my 900 photos of our respective children) & spending time with the Psych Major & her son. Oddly enough, those were the parts where I was most comfortable & myself. Once I stopped trying to prove I was happy on social media, I started actually being happy. I was enjoying friends & family & events. There are still photos on social media, but those are generally concerts, big events, or random weirdness, not “every time we hang out look I love my friends while I status that I love my friends omg life is so rad”. Instead, I’m actually interacting with the people who took the time to interact with me.

The old MHC wanted some kind of public validation from the men I was with because that meant I was in a secure relationship. New MHC doesn’t need that because I know if I ever did feel insecure, I can tell my beau & he’ll alleviate my concern because he cares about me & wants me to be as happy as I try to make him. Old MHC thought that this type of validation meant that the man I was with was proud of me. New MHC realized that when a man is proud of his lady he spends time with her, makes an effort for her & his actions match his words. That matters most. Old MHC would have done the FB creep to figure out if the man I am currently with seemed more invested in other girlfriends to assess if that meant he did or didn’t care about me. New MHC doesn’t give an eff. He’s with me now & that’s the most important thing. What he did for me in the past or for another girl matters not; what matters is how he treats me in the present tense. New MHC also adopted a format that I’ve applied to every important aspect of my life; what is mine is MINE. It is not yours to dissect online. It is not yours to judge. It is mine & I intend to keep it mine. But this doesn’t just apply to my love life. This applies to everything in my life. I do not talk about my job, my career plans (well, I talk about my writing, but that’s because it’s my true love). I do not talk about my home. I do not talk about my relationships with my friends. I do not talk about relationships with my mother, my siblings, etc. I mostly discuss random observations & kid cuteness…and my cat. Sorry it’s not so awesome.

The other major reason that I do not talk about my life in an open setting is because those who mean most to me read my blog & follow me on social media & I do not want them to learn about my feelings through my blog or social media accounts. I want them to learn about my life through me. Back in the day, people did this thing called “communicate” & as I never shut up, I’m a huge fan! I think about my own parents & their marriage & affection was personal & private & that’s what I think we should aspire for. Adversely, there are people I have evicted from my life who still read my blog (*waves*) & I do not want them infiltrating my beautiful life with their toxicity & I find them having any access to even the tiniest details of my life to be bothersome. So, I keep the things that matter most to me to myself…and about three other people. I even find publishing this awkward & had the Texan proofread it before I published it because I was worried it was too personal for my liking.

So, I laughed at these two girls because they’re mocking their friend but she’s probably really happy. She’s with someone & she’s comfortable & secure & doesn’t see any reason to advertise it to the masses. She is enjoying her relationship, not documenting it. Maybe I need to take a lesson from this faceless girl & apply this to the rest of my life & post fewer photos of my kids, my cat & selfies. But I know if I stopped with the former, my kids’ grandma would beat me up. But maybe we all need to enjoy our lives more & not publicize them. Keep our personal lives personal. Talk to people @ dinner instead of photographing our food. Your dinner wasn’t any less delicious because no one saw it. Use your phone to make phone calls & take a moment to hear their voice. Enjoy nature without a filter. Live.

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No Way No

When the Jian Ghomeshi situation started, I initially defended his right to privacy (which I’ve since changed my stance & apologized). Now, I say we should be opening the conversation to discussions of consent, trust, the differences between kink & abuse, but amidst the circus & the finger pointing & the gossip, it’s not happening. I’m not one to pussyfoot around conversation & I like to back up what I say, so let’s have this chat, shall we?

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