on letting go

(…) so now i’m on a bus writing to you. it’s about 1:45am, everyone is sleeping and the stars are gorgeous. the engine of the bus is relaxing. it’s pitch black except for this little light above my head. my feet hurt from all the walking, along with my brain from thoughts of the little time spent with such a beautiful you. it’s been two days away from where my heart is, and it already feels like an eternity

i’m not good at packing.

i over-think and under-plan and fuck, i’m a mess. frankly, this is the first move i’ve made wherein i am not running, or doing things hastily. this has been planned and carefully thought out and yet, i’m programmed. i’ve been wired to act as if moving means hiding, running. i am so overly stressed by my situation at work, and i’m worn. on the bright side, i’ve been carefully boxing things i know i’ll enjoy having in me and dan’s apartment. i’m purging the poison i’ve been stowing in my boxes, in closets, under piles of clothes, in my heart. i’m ridding myself of furniture we don’t need to make room for pieces that will complement everything else we own. i’m choosing things based on dan’s taste, and mine. things that will mesh together in our home.

i trashed my m box.

i’m so sick of this negative non-sense i’ve been carrying around like a coward- like some sort of fucking medal showcasing my broken pieces. and i’m done with that. it’s a new year and a new opportunity and a new house. i’m starting from scratch, again… and this time i’m doing it right. i’m completing my healing process and moving forward. m has no right to invade a space i can finally call home, with a man who has me completely wrapped up inside of him. dan has helped me heal more than he’ll ever be able to understand, and i’m so grateful for his patience.

originally i wanted to make a big production of the disposing of the m box. but truthfully? the scars are reminder enough- what good will it to to wallow and cry and give him the fucking privilege of making me cry, again. and so i scrapped that idea, briefly sifted through the only happy pages of our relationship, and then trashed it. goodbye, good riddance, fuck you. that’s it. that’s all it deserved.

i am so drained from work and trying to deal with my anger. i had a panic attack for the first time since, well, m… to be honest. i haven’t felt so ripped apart and beaten down and years, and it’s time to be healthy. i can’t keep letting people destroy me like this if i ever plan to be happy again, on the inside, i mean. my brains, my heart. i need to fix myself.

what am i looking forward to this weekend? alone time with my lover. not doing much of anything, really. we’re celebrating valentine’s day on sunday- and i’m not quite sure what dan has up his sleeve, but i do know i’ll be giving him the framed (silly & naked) pictures my friend took of me, and i can’t wait to see the hilarious look on his face.

tomorrow’s a new day, and i’m turning today’s page.

i’ll see ya’ll on monday.

xx

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in which my heart breaks

* this entire post is about money and relationships and oh my god i’m crying again.

up until a few years ago, my parents never had a penny. they never furthured their education in college (until very recently), and they didn’t have outstanding jobs. my mother worked her way through administration jobs, and my father bounced between sales and management positions. and although i later found out that they were constantly worried about their ability to pay their mortgage on time, or have enough food in the house to feed our family of four, my brother and i had no idea how hard they struggled. we always had full bellies of healthy food, and shoes that fit, and pencils and notebooks for school. and although my bikes, and jeans, and school bags, or toys were mostly hand-me-downs, i pretty much had everything a kid could ever need. and when my dad would make his bonus, you can bet your ass that my mother would take us out to buy a new shirt for school, or take the family out on an outing. and despite my stuborn, greedy teenage nature… my parents taught me responsibility and self-control. they indirectly taugth me to survive. and they most definitely taught me that love trumps all. always.

when m and i moved into our $700 attic apartment in the outskirts of chinatown, everything changed. the reality of life hit me like a ton of bricks and i instantly (instinctively) went into survivor-mode. by the end of it, i had no money, no food, no job… i had fucking nothing. and while m would hoard food at work and stuff his face so he wouldn’t have to share, i ate a teacher’s leftovers for four days. i made that pasta stretch because i didn’t know when my next meal was going to be. m gained 50lbs that summer, and i couldn’t keep my size 1 jeans up around my waist. i can’t remember the reason, but my dad came to visit one afternoon while m was at work- to make sure i was okay, or alive, or something. and while i’d excused myself to go to the washroom, he scoured my cupboards and fridge. and when all he found was an open bag of stale noodles in the cupboard, and an empty carton of eggs in the fridge, i swear i saw him break. and i don’t remember much from that visit at all, except he took me to a tiny market in the middle of the city and spent $60 on bagels and fruit and milk and eggs. i found out years later that it was the last few dollars he had in his bank account- it was the only money he and my mother had to pay for their own groceries, and he spent it on me.

if that’s not love, and if that’s not family, or being a team is all about… i don’t know what is.

my point is this: i’ve struggled. i have starved and worried about paying rent on time (if at all). i spent three months working at a shitty smoothie bar after i left m, just so i could eat. i’ve had hasty moves while roommates are away, and i’ve been that sketchy, shitty person.

but i’ve also been lucky. i landed a sales job at an international multi-million company where (by the grace of god), my boss saw a light in me that she trusted. i didn’t have a college degree, but she saw skills in me, and she knew i would work my ass off. i fucking worked the shit out of that job for three years and pushed those sales so i’d make enough commission to cover rent and groceries and clothes. it wasn’t glamourous, and i was still living paycheque to paycheque, but i made it. and once my boss left that company to come here, she immediately referred me to the president and comptroller. that woman saved my life- and i’m lucky enough that four years later, i still work with her… and although she’s not my boss anymore, she always has my best interest at heart- i don’t call her work mama for nothing. she has coached me in every aspect of my life, and i owe her everything.

i went from unemployment, to smoothie bar, to sales representative, to assistant to the comptroller… in four years. without an education, without a damn penny, and without a goddamn chance. and for the first time since i was seventeen, i’m comfortable. i make enough money to pay rent, buy groceries and cook every day, feed my cat, go on little trips to visit my friends in montreal, buy coffee before work, treat myself to a new piece of furniture, buy shoes and clothes when i need them, and spoil my family with presents on christmas. i can go to dinner with friends, and see movies in the theatre, or see a live band every once in awhile. i can’t do all these things on a daily basis, but they are definitely opportunities to be a regular young adult and live a fulfilled existence without worrying every single day of my life.

and if any of these lessons and mistakes, and all this struggling has taught me anything? it’s this: in a relationship, first and foremost, you’re a team. always.

i never expected m to support me when i graduated high school, but i also never expected him to watch me fucking die. and while it wasn’t all awful, that summer made me realize more than ever, that he is not the kind of person i ever want to share my life with.

now that dan and i have started apartment hunting, the reality of our finances has kind of hit me. dan is still apprenticing to be a chef, and until he can afford to take his chef’s class and make more money working, things will be tight. i will have to carry more of the load until he’s more established, and i’m okay with that. what kind of girlfriend wouldn’t want to support her significant other in following their dreams? and while we’re looking at very inexpensive apartments for the area (which consequently, are still expensive as fuck), i can see dan already losing hope.

we looked at a beautiful 1.5 bedroom apartment last night, and both of us fell completely in love. it’s smaller than my place now, has no dining room, even less of a kitchen, and barely any storage, but it felt right. the bedroom has wrap-around lead glass windows, the kitchen has original built-in glass-doored cupboards, and the floors are original to the home (over 100 years old). i’d have to sell a lot of my furniture and clothes, and store my seasonal clothing in my parents’ basement, and yet i was in love. i’ve had all this room to hold onto the things that have held me back, and i hate that. i want a cozy, warm, inviting home with my boyfriend, and i want to work together, as a team, to reach our goals and dreams- even if that means helping each other out along the way. if there’s one thing i keep reminding dan when he gets in those moods, it’s that i love him, and i’d never let him starve. i don’t think he really understands the depths of what that means for me, because m watched me do it so easily, btu i mean that. i’ve been there- i’ve struggled working those jobs, doing what i love, barely making any money, just because i knew that eventually things would look up- they worked out for me, and they’ll work out for him. and even though i don’t have a ring on my finger, or a baby in a crib, dan is my family now.

when we got home from the appointment we had to see that apartment, we ate dinner quietly, and made a few comments on how we’d want to set up the furniture if we were to get that apartment. we argued a little and we disagreed on most things and eventually i just went to bed- and dan, being the person he is, came in and tried to work it out and i just wouldn’t have it. i gave myself time to think about what i wanted to say, and how i wanted to say it, and once we’d both calmed down, i asked him to talk. it makes me sad that money is such a strain on relationships these days, and if you weren’t born into a family with money, you’ll be struggling til the day you die. that’s fucking scary.

in any case, we talked about our concerns, and we kissed and made up, and now that i know his financial situation a little bit better, and i can see what is feasible for both of us, we can start building a future together, as a team.

the weekend

friday:

a couple of us went over to adam’s for a couple of beers and deck hangs. mike, biz, and i went back to my house and turned the living room into a big bed. we made poutine from scratch, and then made double chocolate fudge brownie cookie sundaes, and watched hook in the living room bed. it was GLORIOUS.

mike & biz waiting for food

zombie moose

diabetes in a bowl

on saturday dan came back from playing a show in toronto, so he came over to nap, drink milkshakes, and watch TV before work.

dan & moose watching the jersey shore marathon

saturday night was sarah-kate’s birthday, so a few ladies and i went for a fancy dinner and (too many) girly drinks.

i wore the shortest dress in the history of short dresses

moose hungout on the knight table with us until we left

i ordered a delicious salad & a zombie

after dinner we found a secluded courtyard and drank some purse-beers.

zoe & i

my parents recently moved out of the city and into a suburb into a SUPER cute house. they’ve only been living there a week and it already looks perfect. during the house tour i noticed two things…

first- the picture of me (my header) my pops printed & framed

and the skateboard i made him years ago (with lyrics on the back)

did i mention i’m a daddy’s girl?

that afternoon the ladies of the family drove to cornwall for my sister-in-law-to-be’s bridal shower. you wanna know what i did for three hours? CRIED. 30 hormonal women should not be eating cheese & fruit in a living room while a bride-to-be opens sentimental gifts. josée’s cousin recently had a baby girl (her third! she’s not even thirty. and she’s a total hottie), and i snapped this candid picture of jo with her baby cousin:

watching my brother’s bride-to-be so naturally cradling that baby was my favourite moment of the day.

i cried.

again.

anyway, after the shower we went back to my parents’ new house and the five of us had family dinner, and watched america’s funniest home videos. i love it when the five of us spend our sunday evenings together, and this time felt better than any other. my parents worked so hard to get this new house, and i’m so proud of them. all of us laughed, and talked, and cuddled while watching tv and that’s exactly how i like to spend my family time.

cory & i got my pops a 60oz of mount gay rum (his favourite!)

after family time i got to go home to this perfect little creature

finally!

i know you’re all dying to get a peek into the new place- but i’m sans computer or internet right now, so you’ll have to bare with these blackberry shots!

a corner of my bedroom…

andrew and stef, totally exhausted from the move

$300 later…

first feast with the gang!

last night, watching intervention at luc’s house, dead to the world

i’m not alone, i’m just on my own

i’m exhausted.

saturday’s move was quick & easy and i’m glad it’s all over. so many things happened this weekend but i’m too tired to attempt a recap. moose the cat kept me up all night, screaming. it’s been a rough transition for him too.

last night was my first night alone. friends have been staying over every night and it’s been fantastic… don’t get me wrong, but i was pretty excited to finally be in my house alone. i got back from luc’s around 10ish and wandered around the house- not really knowing what to do with myself. i started packing a lunch and the silence hit me like a ton of bricks. i love my new house, and i love all the love and effort put into making it a home, but it still doesn’t feel like home quite yet.

every time i walked into me, andy and matty’s house, i always felt at home. the colours were warm, the air smelled of a home-cooked meal, and the lights were always dimmed. the boys were usually in the kitchen, making their lunches or playing games on their computers. matty and i would talk about the day, and he’d usually prance around the kitchen- singing 90s songs and dancing while cooking. he always asked me if i had a good day. i miss that about him. i would kiss andy on the mouth, and then on the neck. he tasted sweet and salty, he smelled like hardwork and the cologne i bought him.

i can’t begin to explain how lonely i felt, making lunch for one, in my tiny little kitchen. i felt so fucking defeated. it still smells like fresh paint and stale air. i want nothing more than to run home, take off my stupid business wear, throw on an oversized tshirt and make dinner. i want it to smell lived-in. i want it to smell like home.

i want to stop beating myself up for making the right decision.

thank you

i always feel like i’m in a bit of a rut between moves.

i get the keys in three days, and i move in ten. i don’t have to worry about much packing because almost everything i own is in a storage facility half-way across the city (cue tiny violin and wrist slitting). i put all my movies and books into boxes last night, at my parents’ house. all i have left to do is take everything off the walls, and put all my clothes into garbage bags.

but otherwise, i spent 90% of the time living on these girls’ couch or bed- and it has been quite the experience.

i’ve known bizKoti almost ten years, and i’ve known khala for about a year. they took me in and completely took care of me when i needed someone the most. i spent most of my relationship with andy in isolation in our house. granted, it was winter and i was lazy, but i was lonely none the less. i spent most of my free time cooking, hanging out in our giant bed with the cat, or with his friends. i’m so grateful bizKoti and some other friends made the trek out to my house to party every once in a while, but being away from andy has made me infinitely happier. he’s wonderful, he’s handsome, he’s funny, and i loved being around him- but it wasn’t the life i wanted. i missed my city life, being surrounded by all my friends, and being independent.

i can’t wait to get that back.

i’m so grateful for everything khala and bizKoti have done for me. all the late nights, the dinners, the early mornings before work spent laughing in the washroom, the inside jokes, the naps, the shopping, the trips, the amount of times bizKoti showed me her vagina to cheer me up, the dancing, the bottles upon bottles of wine, “would you?”, … i missed having best girlfriends i could really rely on (something i hadn’t had in years)…

i’m so glad my new place is only a few blocks from theirs, so i can still harass them and eat their food when i feel homesick.

i love you babesicles.