She knows the human heart and how to read the stars

I’ve wanted to post new content on here for the past couple of weeks but every time I start writing something, I abandon it halfway through and ultimately delete it. The last thing I attempted putting together died a horrible death after I had written three whole paragraphs. I’m not entirely certain what happened, but I suspect my despondent mood had a lot to do with it.

The trouble is this: when I’m not feeling my best or my most confident, the words just don’t come out. Or, if they do, they tumble out of my brain and land on the page haphazardly and every which way. When I read them back, hoping to hit the “Publish” button, they make absolutely zero sense. Rather than spend the next three-and-a-half hours – perhaps even four hours – editing these random sentences down to a post that is relatively coherent, I just end up trashing it. It’s easier that way.

I don’t want to come off as permanently joyless and dry-as-a-raisin, but the past six months have been absolutely horrible ones for me. Things were looking up in April/May but promptly fell to the ground straight after in June and I haven’t completely recovered from that. Yes, my grandmother died and yes, the apartment I purchased four years ago got delayed again (for a third time) and yes, a romantic relationship that I had hoped would blossom into something more lasting faltered. All this, plus I had to forego seeing my best friend in the UK when I was forced to cancel the trip to London I had started planning back in Autumn 2016. I haven’t seen Katie for over two years. Let me repeat myself: she’s my BEST FRIEND. Can you imagine not seeing your bestie for more than two years? Worse, can you imagine having planned a trip to see her and then, at the last minute, having to cancel that trip while your grandmother lay dying in a hospital bed?

No, I thought not.

All this … this is precisely why my mood level has been below zero recently. And do you know what? I have no idea how to fix it. At this point, I don’t even care anymore – I don’t give enough fucks to rectify the situation. I’m just gonna sit here – or lie down – and wait for something to change. Wait for someone else to come my way (preferably brandishing a bunch of red roses and a Chapters/Indigo gift card worth $2,000) to take this incessant ache in my chest away. Imma wait right here. You carry on.

And everyone who’s been posting about #InternationalKissingDay on social media can go fuck right off.

I’m doing the best I ever did, now go away

Sitting here now in the relatively peaceful atmosphere of the outskirts of Toronto, I’m thankful I’m far away from what’s happening in other parts of the world. If I had gone through with my UK trip as planned, I would have been flying home today from London and if I’m being completely honest, I probably would have been an utter mess of soggy marshmallows right about now. Navigating my way through Heathrow and its endless hallways of security checkpoints and military presence would have played havoc with my frail mind, let alone actually boarding a plane filled with equally on-edge passengers praying into their barf bags that they’ll make it home safely in one stinking piece.

So there’s that.

On the other hand – and totally unrelated to the pompous, uneducated losers populating our world and filling it with unmitigated hate – things seem to have calmed down a smidgen here at home. Yes, we’re still waiting for grim death to take hold of my grandmother and (finally) offer her relief and yes, we’re still stressed and frazzled beyond belief but we’re coping. I think we’ve got the hang of it now (it’s only taken us a grand total of seven fucking months to get it right). We seem a lot more sedate than we previously were and we’ve finally begun laughing again. That’s what was missing the most – the laughter. If there’s one thing my silly family excels at, it’s the ability to laugh at anything and anyone at any given time of the day or night (yes, even when we’re fast asleep). Chuckles, giggles and guffaws are what keep us going. To hell with everything else!

Must dash – the new Doc Marten boots I ordered for my birthday – thanks Sabrina – have arrived and I so desperately need to commence spending the next two years – possibly three – breaking ’em in. It’s a hard struggle, life.

Lovely girl you’re the beauty in my world

Don’t even talk to me about mental exhaustion right now. Don’t.

I’m at the point where I can honestly see myself stabbing some poor unsuspecting pedestrian in the eye with a lipgloss wand if they so much as look at me the wrong way. Is this what all the grownups were talking about back in the 80s and 90s? Is this what being an adult means? Frequently having to engage in discussions you don’t want to have, getting up at the crack of dawn when all you really wanna do is lay in bed with a good book and a cupcake, or confronting the fragility of life on a daily basis as your grandparent lies dying in a hospital ward? All the grownups in my life warned me it wouldn’t be all rainbows and unicorns but being all of 12 years old, who was I to take them seriously? I probably thought they were talking about soap operas and not REAL LIFE.

When things are going south as quickly as Gandalf and the Balrog of Moria, I tend to spend money. Retail therapy is real, my friends. Last night alone I spent $100 at Sephora on makeup I will probably rarely use. Why? Because the price was right (apparently) and because the shit I bought had glitter in it. GLITTER. Speaking of glitter, I also ordered a book about Hitler, nazis and their dependency on drugs during WWII. Of course I did.

Not sure what kind of road I’m headed down right now but I hope it’s one filled with sexy European cars and at least ten libraries spaced evenly apart.

Killing me softly

Guys, when I say that the past few months have been a massive stressball of dicks, I mean it. Like I really mean it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this stressed before in my life (not even when I had a heart operation at the age of 19, and that’s saying a lot).

One of my immediate family members was diagnosed with cancer late last year and is currently on her deathbed, so there’s that. My job security is currently sitting at nil. I’m going to be moving out of my parents’ house in the fall and I have no idea how to cook my own meals. My trip to the UK has been up in the air more times than I care to admit, and I’m trying to kick a lifelong habit of chewing the inside of my cheeks and lips and it’s not going all that well. So, there’s that.

I’m turning 35 next month and I constantly find myself wondering “is this what adulting is?” The stress is killing me like a thousand pointy swords straight through the groin. All I’d really like right now is a sense of security, some freedom, some relief and to know where my next home-cooked meal is coming from.

*I just stopped myself from biting my lip – good job, Veebs*

This is me reaching out to you for help. How do you guys cope with stress? What makes you feel calm and centered in the midst of a storm? How do you avoid getting stabbed in the crotch by the gods?