Just Write

It’s been awhile.

A lot has changed.

I have been up. I have been down. I have learned so much.

I don’t know where to start….

I stopped writing, creating, really. I started working in a Warehouse. I got myself off of Social Assistance. I (with my partner) got an apartment. I thought Life was really coming together.

Things started to unravel just before COVID hit. Almost 6 months before COVID to be exact. I started to feel stressy, depressy, homesick, and lost. Upon leaving therapy my therapist warned me I was not finished. I begged to differ and was steadfast on my decision, but suddenly felt a pang of “uh ohs” enter my body. I had been out of therapy at least 2 years at this point.


You know, for the anxiety riddled wack job I can be, I surprised myself during those first months-and first year- of COVID. I was lucky enough to have chosen a career that allowed me to continue working, OUTSIDE my home (thus getting my self-isolating ass out of the house which was and is much needed). I fought my fight or flight response that so desperately wanted to take flight and run. Run away. Take leave. Get out. But I didn’t. I stayed. So many left, but I stayed.

I thought it would get better. Summer would come and this will end.

Summer came. Then Fall. Winter again. Not only is COVID prevailing, it’s mutating. I now have to wear a at mask at work. Every day, all day. My partner was laid off for a period. Then I was laid off. Our wages were greatly affected by this, and quite honestly, I never recovered.

Regardless, I enter 2021 with a renewed hope. This was short lived as by April I was extremely depressed. Broke. Living with the love of my life yet feeling lonelier than ever. Nothing is getting better. The job I once loved is now such a chore. Not to mention the TURNOVER of people was and is at a rate I have never seen before. Unfamiliar people everywhere, in masks no less, I still don’t know what a lot of my co workers really look like. But I digress.

By May I announced that I felt we needed to move home. I needed to go home. I needed to feel I was somewhere that felt like home, not an overpriced shit hole I was clinging to because “its what your SUPPOSED to do”…right…?!? Pfffft. When do I ever do what I’m “supposed to” anyways? (I always choose the Hard Road for context). I felt this was the BEST possible decision, go home. Everything will be fine if I just GET HOME. It took 2 months, moving what we could, back to our mother’s houses, on weekends off. I did not want anyone to know I was moving so I made it extra stressful on myself by not taking time off to move. I just used all of my spare time to load and unload my little Toyota pick-up as many times as I could. I was exhausted. Mentally and physically.

We gave notice to vacate the apartment by the first of August. I spent my first night at home (in over 5 years) on July 10, 2021. This gives me chills because this date is turning out to be a reoccurring one in my life. My Fathers Funeral was July 10. My first day at my job that I love was July 10. Now my first night back where I started – July 10. WILD.

I cried a lot those first few nights. I was home but I felt lost, still. Was this the right choice?? I miss my own EVERYTHING. Where is this? Where is that? I have no idea because I started panic moving and just threw everything wherever I could. My cat is stressed. Does my partner miss me? Even though he was a fixture on the couch I miss him. I want to be by myself yet when I’m by myself I get sad and cry. I don’t know what I am doing.

For awhile I partially lived in an insulated 40 foot Trailer when I first came home. We had one in the backyard. How convenient. There seemed to be no room in the house for me and I was happy to live out my tiny house dreams. By October, however, this bubble burst when I woke up to our first good freeze of the season. My little Trailer Home, being only steps from the House, had no bathroom or kitchenette. It was more of a Bedroom/Studio than a tiny home but don’t tell my previous Trailer self that. As it became colder and the threat of Snow became more real I thought it might be a good idea to move into the house to sleep. At least for the Winter. I almost shat my pants running across the lawn one night after a major disagreement with a spicy chicken sandwich, should that problem arise again I do not want to have to fight with a foot of snow and frozen doors because I do believe it would just cause a whole mess of problems. Pun intended.

It’s around this time I start to lose my period and have hot flashes. What a trip. I’m also down to 102 pounds and nothing fits. What is happening?!? Time goes by. Weeks. Months. Still no period. The hot flashes have now turned into a way of life. I set out extra pyjamas knowing full well I will wake up AT LEAST once, absolutely drenched in sweat. I will need a change AT LEAST once. I pick out my clothes solely for function. Most comfortable, and light garments, easy to remove hoodies. Thank goodness I work in a Warehouse and I can just wear sweats and t-shirts. I sleep with a fan on. I’ve positioned my bed to be close to the window so I can open it and breathe in the frozen air. I thought I’d be too cold in my little Trailer. I may have thought wrong.

I do some research and all signs point to Periomenopause. Fantastic. Because I’m not unhinged ENOUGH.

I have managed to gain some weight in the months since I moved into the house. I still have no period. Though I was unsure of wether or not I wanted children I did not expect to potentially be robbed of the choice. My partner very much wants children, I do not blame him nor do I want to rob him of this experience. I do fear that this could lead to him leaving me but so far he is still here. Do I worry that I am unknowingly pregnant? Nope. Because in order to become pregnant once must engage in a certain activity. That activity has also been MIA for quite some time. Does this cause red flags? Indeed. But again, I digress. Bigger fish to fry.

*EDIT* It has been confirmed that it is Peri menopause. It has also become clear to me that I have been ignoring my Mental Health and currently am taking some time away from that job that I so “loved” 5 years ago. I am again in search of myself and what makes me happy in life.

MacBook down. Send help.

For some unknown reason my MacBook crapped out on me September 2019 and I still have not been able to boot ‘er up. I have tried. Literally 16 ways from friggin Sunday to get this thing to JUST WORK and it just won’t.

I have a pretty good hunch as to what the issue is and for a variety of reasons am procrastinating getting it fixed.

I know of a professional computer person but again, variety of reasons, putting off making the call.

That being said I am learning to use my phone for a lot. Blogging being one. Got the app ages ago, finally putting it to use, this being my first of hopefully many posts written using my phone.

Testing, 1, 2, 3,

Here’s hoping this is my new thang 🥂✌🏻

Last Day Here

It is officially my last full day here.  By this time tomorrow [the rest of] the move will surely be underway. I am both excited and nervous for this new chapter of my life.  A month ago I did not know that I would be leaving yet here I am.

Most of my clothes are packed away.  Upon packing said clothes I realized I hate most of them and wish to slowly start upgrading my wardrobe.  Not all, just some.  Too many items remind me of the person I was and of certain feelings I may have had when I wore this item or that one.  For example, I have a long sleeved knit white tunic from Walmart that I have owned and worn for over 10 years now.  It used to be my go-to “going out” or “date” sweater.  It now looks more beige then white and whenever I wear it I can’t help but remember that time I had an anxiety attack whilst en route to the Mandarin.  Got there only to NOT EAT ANYTHING. I just silently panicked at the table while insisting the party I was with “please enjoy themselves”.

I have a Barbie sweatshirt that is baby pink and I love it but every time I touch it I recall how I ordered it right before going to Cuba in 2013.  A trip that I recall as a shit ton of panicking, throwing up and just wanting to go home.  In trying to move on with life and continue to improve myself I feel as though I don’t want these cloth reminders of memories.  As of this moment these items are packed away but as I unpack I plan on donating a lot.

I am feeling better about this whole thing [this morning] then I thought that I would.  I have only had to take 1 ativan so far this week and I will allow myself 1 for tonite and possibly 1 for tomorrow because I just know now that I will not be sleeping and good grief I cannot let anxiety get in my way.  It has gotten in the way of my life enough already and has led to me where I am at this current moment.  I’m not in a bad situation per se but I am not where I wanted to be.

I am not working and I am on social assistance.  Something I was advised to do by both my Doctor and my Therapist a few years back.  At this point in time I am trying to focus on completing EMDR and healing myself without the extra stress of working or trying to work.  Also after 10+ years of shitty jobs, shitty hours, shitty pay, working multiple jobs and still not getting ahead, I was mentally and physically exhausted.  I have worked so many places my resume should be a novella.

I have no idea what the future holds for me, and us but I can only hope and pray that is is a good one.  I have had enough bad things happen in my life, it is time for some good stuff.  I know that this move is a step in the right direction and I am so looking forward to being the person that I am supposed to be.  It has been a long time since I started a new chapter, perhaps a little too long.

So, here we are, last day of this chapter, last day in this room, last day in this house.  It’s bittersweet.  Part of me can’t wait to shut the door tomorrow afternoon and the other part of me wants to hold on for dear life… then there’s another part screaming “just defrost your fridge already!!!”.



… The fridge is waiting.  Along with your new life.