self worth

human skin can be hard to live in

– seabear


i’ve been having a hard time.

don’t get me wrong- i’ve been having an incredible summer and a hell of a good time with my friends, and family… from mexican fiesta themed bachelorette parties, to family picnics by the waterfront, to barbecues and slumber parties, and more ladies’ nights and living room dance marathons than i can even count. i have the most amazing support system- the constant emails and phone calls from my mum & pops, the text messages from my brother, the goodness in my friends’ hearts and their willingness to give and to love and to be there for me… i can’t even wrap my head around it sometimes. a friend dropped in last night to give me oral numbing gel for my tooth ache because he knew my EI money hadn’t come in yet and he couldn’t stand the idea of me sitting around, doing nothing about the pain i was in.

that’s the kind of people i have in my life.

and i am so grateful for them, for this time off, for the strength i had in myself to finally make these changes in my life.

but i am still struggling.

sometimes i have to remind myself that i’ve come a long way. that i escaped a dangerous life with an awful man and survived his abuse and our lifestyle. without a penny in my pocket, or a chance in the world- i dusted myself off, and set off to build a new, healthy life. i got an excellent job with zero experience and no education, hopped from house to house until i found a safe place to call home- all while keeping my head above water. not a single person knew of my struggles because i wouldn’t show my scars. “i am strong, i am independent, i can do this”- this is how i got myself out of bed in the mornings. i was barely eighteen years old.

and i get it, you know.

i’m an easy target.

i’m young, i have fucked up one hell of a lot, i have put my family through torture and hell, i am covered in tattoos, i struggle with money, i have been pulled from my own bed- pulled from depression and drinking, and i’ve been told to fucking smarten up and be a real human being because this life business is HARD.

despite all of the bullshit, though… at least i could always say i was capable. i was capable of a good life, with healthy people, and a nice house, with good furniture. and i had a job.

jesus christ, i had a job!

a job i could keep, a job i was good at, a job that allowed me to fully furnish the houses i’d been hoping to and from. a job that allowed me to eat, and play, and be a real adult for the first time in fucking ever.

wait, adults say “in fucking ever”, right?


i am not struggling with the time off, or the copious amount of naps i have been allowing myself to take in the middle of the afternoon, thank you very much.

i’m struggling with the lack of income, and what that has done to my independence.

i am no charity case. and although i love surprises and dates and all that fun stuff… i don’t like when people feel obligated to pay for me. i was perfectly capable of paying for my movies, or my food, or my antibiotics, or my mothers’ birthday presents. but when i can’t participate in menu items for a cottage weekend getaway, or i have to skip out on certain activities because my bank account is at -$7.32, and i have one toonie left in my wallet, and i’m wondering how the actual fuck i’m going to eat next week because i still don’t have a clue as to when EI will come in… that scares me.

and i’m brought back to a place where i don’t like being.

to the attic apartment of 148 breezehill avenue, where i am barely seventeen, and i haven’t eaten in weeks, and my junkie boyfriend is out on a binge, fucking the girls from the shop, and leaving me to fucking die. a place where i am sitting in the corner of the living room, under a wall of broken plaster, listening to ani difranco on repeat, trying to get the courage to finally call my mother and ask her to save me.

i know that isn’t the case, anymore. but the thought of not knowing, and starting from scratch again… it scares the living shit out of me.

as for these last few days… i have to laugh off the bullshit comments about being a punk rock warrior. i have to try not to be offended when people are shocked if i turn down an opportunity to drink when the cold, wet cans are staring me straight in the face. and i have to get over this whole idea that leaving my job was a bad move. i have to shrug off the comments about my relationship with dan going down the shitter…

but here’s the thing.

fuck everyone.

(adults can say that too, right?)

yeah, fuck ’em.

i’m not sorry.

i’m not sorry i fucked up with m. i’m not sorry for a single tattoo on my body. i’m not sorry the drinking was a problem, for years. i’m not sorry my relationship with dan ended, and he had to move out, and i’m not sorry i was still fucking him after we broke up. i’m not sorry that i’ve had moments of weakness, of desperation, of chaos, or sadness. i’m not sorry for quitting my job. i’m not sorry for being fucking human.

here’s the thing with acceptance and self-worth.

i’m fucking horrible at it.

a good friend made a joke at my expense, and how did i deal with it? i came home, took off my tights, turned off the lights, blasted daniel johnston super loud, and fucking bawled my eyes out for an hour.


i’m not used to this. i’m not used to dependence or zero income, or feeling this helpless. it’s awful, and it’s fucking with my head, the way it fucked with my head then. the freedom was incredible, at first. i sat in the park, blowing bubbles, drinking beer from a coffee cup, watching my friends play street frisbee at midnight, dancing until 4 in the morning, going to the beach all day, having iced green tea in summer dresses at two in the afternoon at my favourite coffee shops, drinking mimosas with breakfast, stuffing my face with pretty people at restaurants’ soft openings, chatting all afternoon on the porch…it’s been so liberating.

and now i’m all, “fuck”.

because the money is gone, and so is the glamour, et all.

along with my confidence & independence.

and so now, i wait.

for money. for an epiphany. for a job opportunity that will blow my socks off.

post script:

i am no longer fucking my ex-boyfriend. he returned my glasses, and i gave him back his computer, and we haven’t spoken in days, and i am feeling free and happy and strong. i know now, more than ever, that i want a future- and it most certainly isn’t with him. am i mourning the loss of my best friend in the entire world? hell yes. will i get over it? totally.

on, and up.




i should probably just rename this blog “progress reports of a girl who takes one step forward, and ten steps back”, or better yet “little elle: why bother”

HA! i’m funny.

this is what the mancave looked like a few weeks ago…

this is what it looked like after dan lived in here for a few weeks when we decided to break up


and through all of this? thank goodness for this… all of it:

late night wine & strawberries on my porch

hanging out in the park & blowing bubbles

midnight street frisbee, in the heart of the city

thrash unreal

a couple of weeks ago i lost my ipod.

and for most people, it’d be like “aw, crap, i don’t have a couple hundred dollars to replace it”, but for me it was more like “holy shit, my life is over”.

i’m not dramatic, okay?

my computer killed itself a little while ago, so the songs i had on my ipod were a mix between what i already had, and music i’d acquired from friends on their computers. which, okay, no big deal… except half my friends have either moved out of the city, or they’ve fallen off the face of the earth, so it kind of matters to me. mostly because these are the songs that got me through every single day when i was essentially living on biz and khala’s couch… the songs i’d listen to, still drunk as all hell, heading into work at 7:30 in the morning. the songs that i could relate to, so completely, and they gave me hope.

is that stupid?

is anyone else so completely in love with music they would tongue-kiss it and take it on a date and totally call it back? i would introduce music to my mother, and i would cuddle it after i bang it.


there were probably 100 different genres of music on my ipod, and i listened to every song at least one billion times since january 2010. a year, guys. that’s like, one of the longest relationships i’ve had with ANYTHING, not including m or malt liquor. (haha?)

SO. i was heading home from work one night a few weeks ago, and realized it wasn’t in my purse. and i don’t ever take it out of my purse. because i don’t even leave the house without it already on. i’m commited like that.

so for the last few weeks, every bus ride to and from work was spent shooting daggers and death glares to every girl who has hit puberty and bleeds once a month who was wearing a fucking cat hat, or any useless piece of garbage who would spend more than five minutes (yelling) on their phone when it wasn’t even 6pm and free yet, like, CAN’T YOU WAIT TWENTY MINUTES TIL YOU’RE HOME SO I DON’T COMMIT MASS MURDER?!


i’m not good at humans.

so whatever. my good buddy liz messaged me a few days ago saying that she had an extra ipod and would i like to have it before i go to jail for beating up the elderly on the 85 route home.

um, yes please.

and obviously because i am a huge music nazi, i had to delete like, 99.8% of the garbage that was on there because, no i will not listen to frigging john mayer or lady gaga ON PURPOSE. i am trying to be less shitty, remember?

but there were a few things i kept, like the entire tegan & sara discography (duh), and like, maybe five or six acoustic songs from indie bands i secretly pretend to hate, and also one album from the be good tanyas because they are better than i remembered and there’s that one song that makes me all gooey in the heart, and also the 7 against me! songs i wanted to give another shot because i hadn’t listened to against me! since i was thirteen and playing duck hunt on NES in my friend’s basement, drinking VEX.

EVERYTHING else was deleted and replaced with psych punk from the 80s, a bunch of pussy galore and dr dre, and like, 4 new order albums. i still have tons of room, but there is only so much of dan’s music i can listen to without wanting to slit my very own wrists.

that being said, my ipod was on shuffle this morning, and this against me! song came on… i hadn’t really paid attention to the words until now because they wouldn’t have meant shit when i was a kid, but now they fucking resonated something fierce.

if she wants to dance and drink all night
then there’s no one that can stop her.
she’s going until the house lights come up
or her stomach spills onto the floor.
this night is going to end
when we’re damn well ready for it to be over.
worked all week long now the music is playing on our time.
we do what we do to get by, and then we need a release.

you get mixed up with the wrong guys.
you get messed up on the wrong drugs.
sometimes the party takes you places
that you didn’t really plan on going.
when people see the track marks on her arms
she knows what they’re thinking.
she keeps on working for that minimum,
as if a high school education offered any other options.
they don’t know nothing about redemption.
they don’t know nothing about recovery.

woah, right?

and the song ends with this line:

if she had to live it all over again, you know she wouldn’t change anything for the world


i STILL have goosebumps.

why am i not surprised?

can we all take a moment to appreciate the fact that a search engine term linking to my website was butt fart.

someone actually typed butt fart in their google search bar, and my website came up.

today suddenly just got awesome.

in other less fabulous news, tonight is my last bootcamp session and i’m really bummed. i’ve been feeling the burn, and although i don’t see a difference, i definitely feel it immensely. i won’t be going back in january because my sister-in-law won’t be attending, and i’m obviously a huge wimp and i’m afraid of humans. she’s been a super great fitness buddy though, so if she asked me to join another class with her, i would in a heartbeat. so, someone force me to do a couple of crunches and jumping jacks at home, please? or, i don’t know, give me a couple hundred bucks so i can buy a used stationary bike so i can get fit while i watch my stories?

i hate being broke. thanks alcoholism, homelessness, shitty ex-boyfriends, and unstable living situations! you’re the bane of my existence.

duh, because nothing is ever my fault.

who the hell put sugar in my coffee? my mouth hurts and i’m climbing the walls.

this entry was 100% pertinent.

you’re so very welcome.


no, i’ve never met anyone quite like you before

danny: well just so you know, i love you… and if it weren’t for you comforting me and cheering me up i’d be a very miserable prick and probably on the verge of a shitty depression- that means a lot to me. so thanks for being such a sweet heart to me, and always cheering me up.

me: same to you, dan. i love you so much

danny: now feel better you city bitch

other reasons i love receiving text messages from this man:

“how’s it going pretty head?”

“i called you for breakfast but you didn’t answer. why’d you leave me drowning in this sea of trouts?”

“yeah, i’mma fuck this chick”

“we gonna shot-gun tonight?”

“let’s take a bus to philadelphia and get cheese-steak sandwiches”

“why is it that booze is the only thing that never lets me down?”

“you can have my kid any day”

“i’m sorry i made fun of your gay facebook photo”

“make me dinner, bitch!”

“thanks for letting me sleep on your butt”

… if you want him, you can’t have him!

my self-respect means more to me than you do (or at least it used to)

i remember the beer caught in my throat
and the lonely comfort of my only winter coat
i could tell you exactly when i fell
it was back when i did not know you so well

– pony up

i have felt stuck for 6 months; trapped in what i thought could potentially be a healthy, fruitful relationship. i stood my ground mostly, i foolishly gave in occasionally, and i ignored my gut from the start. and finally, finally, i’ve let go. luc has the potential to be a good person- i know it because i’ve seen it. but he also has the ability to be a negative, mean, and rude person to me, and i’ve witnessed it more than i would have liked to. i stuck around with the hopes of positive change, maturity development, and paved paths for something i thought could be great. but i was sorrily mistaken, and i was obviously let down.

and what kind of person am i- to have strung him along during my indecisiveness? granted he knew where i stood on the matter- that’s not the point. i’ve made a decision for him, for myself, for our friends (who have been waiting as patiently as he has), for our family (who all had faith this would pan out into something greater)… i’m letting go for everyone’s sake. for my sanity. for my peace of mind. for my freedom.

i’ve always been a boyfriend type of girl. i spent my years in junior high kissing older boys at arenas, holding hands under desks, writing love letters, or having “boyfriends” over when i wasn’t allowed. i stumbled into high school and instantly fell into a life of drugs, sex and alcohol. i remember stealing cars with biz, or drinking 40s of beer in a friend’s living room in the projects. we’d do graffiti at the skate park, drink vodka in alleyways, sleep in the parks. it wasn’t glamourous, but i had the time of my life. i met m when i’d calmed down from that stuff- and it seemed the sight of him made those feelings of danger and apathy resurface almost instantly. being with m made me feel so fucking alive. in the beginning, we’d party all night, and lay in bed together all day. it was the perfect mix of teenage rebellion & young love. i had it all.

and when i wasn’t with m, i toyed around with older boys, had flings in different cities, and genuinely couldn’t find it in me to give a shit about anyone who wasn’t m. until andy- and with andy came a mixed feeling of relief and resentment. i missed the danger, and i missed the feeling of not knowing what came next. and by the same token, i couldn’t be happier to wake up to the same person everyday- to someone who lived to make me happy. i had never been in a better, more stable place in my life.

i’ve gotten over the lifestyle i had before and during my relationship with m. living that lifestyle now is only rebelling against myself- i’ve lived a life with andy that opened my eyes to what i want in the future. and since leaving him and our beautiful home, couch hopping and drinking myself into oblivion and fucking B. so i could feel something- anything… i’ve finally figured out what i wanted.

maybe i stuck around for luc and i’s bullshit rollercoaster of misunderstood emotions because i was lost. i saw something in him i thought i wanted, and i was stupid enough to let it lead both of our lives. i should have known to trust my gut from the get-go; to not give into feelings i know are superficial.

he’s an idiot if he thinks for a minute i never cared. i spent every waking moment talking to him, about him, or spending time with him. i was hoping so badly that i could have a change of heart, accept him for who he is, and just be with him. and although his heart of gold helped me realize how selfless he can be- it also made me see a side of him i wish i’d never gotten to know at all.

i can’t count the amount of times he told me we were ruining each others’ lives. it may have been a joke at the time, but deep down i think both of us knew it was true. i’ve been holding back when i meet new people- refusing to let my emotions with them get the best of me because of the man at home who was waiting for me, so patiently. maybe down the road i’ll kick myself for letting go the one person who stuck around through everything in hopes i’d give in. maybe i’ll kick myself for giving up a chance at building a family, again. another chance i had at letting someone in and seeing the real me- the me that has feelings and enjoys kissing and waking up next to someone- sharing my life with someone.


but i’ve been sticking to “maybe” since i was a kid, and i’m sick of basing my life on what if’s… the last time i used schrödinger’s thought experiment as a means to making my decision, i got horribly burned- needless to say, the cat was very much dead, and i’ve never been good at quantum mechanics anyway.

my point is this: i’m moving on for me. i can’t keep tip-toe-ing around people’s feelings trying to save them, when all i need now is to save myself. i need to be alone (for once), and let the chips fall where they may. i’m not looking anymore… the best things will happen when i least expect them to.

that being said, friday will be my last day working for the company i’ve been with for 3 years. they offered me a position i couldn’t possibly take, and thus have no choice but to leave (with a heavy heart). i’m trying to stay positive though- working here has taught me responsibility and proper business etiquette. i’ve been fortunate enough to have participated in out-of-town business conferences in which i got the opportunity to step outside of myself and interact with other business associates from across the country. i met the president of the company, and have built a a fabulous working relationship with the VP of sales (who wants to reference me to other businesses looking for a young firecracker like me). i worked with some pretty energetic and positive people, and i was lucky enough to be part of the most amazing sales team, and built a special relationship with each of the representatives. i’m sad to leave, but this is such a good opportunity to look for something else and thrive. i can use these tools to be a better me, and build a more stable future.

i never thought i’d go from being the young naive little girl i was, to the strong, outgoing, business woman i’ve become. it stings sometimes, to catch my glance in the mirror and see that i’ve totally given into the man- that i’ve bitten the bullet and become a slave to my bitch- but that’s life, right? that’s growing up.

i crashed and burned into 2010 like a rocket on fire spiralling to the core- and i was so scared i wouldn’t make it out alive. i’m a victim of my own demons and i get lost sometimes, but i’m working on that. in january 2010 i was boyfriendless, virtually homeless, and teetering close to unemployment (because of my drinking habits), but i pulled through. with the help of friends and family, i made it out of this again, and only good things can come from this wreckage.

i need to take all of this and start fresh- learn everything again with a new, open heart.

i’m a single, independent woman looking for new beginnings- in relationships, employment, and life in general.

bring it on, motherfucker.

in a way it’s funny, in a way it’s filthy

when i met m i was sure i had my entire life figured out. sure, he was addicted to drugs and having sex with other women, had inexplicable anger inside of him, had violent outbursts regularly, belittled me on a daily basis, and left me with nothing but a couple of moving boxes and suitcases when he decided he needed enlightenment by backpacking across the world going to halifax for a few weeks to get fucked up because he didn’t have a passport, when i was barely eighteen years old.

but the man loved me.

when he wasn’t molesting my friend in her sleep, fucking his neighbour when i was babysitting our godson, or punching holes in the walls… he totally loved me. because picking me flowers on the way home from work, or writing me cards and love letters all the time, or bringing me on a surprise picnic in the middle of the night totally made up for hurling my (then) 110 pound body onto the leather couch when he was angry with me, right? the nights of champagne in bed in our underwear, or curling up together on the ten year old lazy-boy (our only piece of furniture at the time) watching stolen cable on a 13-inch television, kissing in between sentences definitely made up for the debt i accumulated for having to move every time he found me- every time i lost the safety of living peacefully in my own home.

it’s funny, you know… how the only man i ever loved could be so fucking evil.

andy gave me the world (and then some)… he gave me safe arms to fall asleep in, a beautiful home to live in, and all the hope in the world- and i couldn’t tell him i loved him. i thought about it sometimes. i’d catch him looking at me a certain way, or he’d place his hand on the small of my back when he’d be trying to get by, or he’d make me laugh so hard my sides hurt. i could kiss that man forever. he would come home from work; sweaty, smelly, and tired and i couldn’t keep my damn hands off him. i’d rush home from work so i could get started on dinner and i’d get antsy until i’d get that daily text message… on my way home, babe. i couldn’t wait to kiss him as soon as he’d walk through the door… to taste his sweet lip balm mixed with salty sweat. to hug him and breathe in his dirty work clothes. i ached for that. i don’t think i was ever in love with andy- simply the idea of him. i know i loved him, in some way. i loved that he could make me feel again- every morning i wanted to wake up if only to see his blue eyes looking back at me, and kiss his bearded chin- like i always did. he made me feel alive after being dead for so long. i loved how soft-spoken he was…. he never raised his voice, never made me feel guilty or sad. even when we broke up, we sat quietly in the kitchen, whispering. we just held each other and cried, and cried, and cried.

it worries me that i haven’t been able to feel for anyone what i felt for m. maybe it’s out of fear, or worry- maybe self-preservation. i’ve seen what it is to be so happy and so in love- to have the entire world at my finger tips and then have that person turn on me. to have them absolutely destroy all the good i had inside of me. maybe i’m being selfish or stupid for blaming m for who and what i’ve become- i don’t care. i was his enabler, and yes i’m aware of that- but no one in the world deserves to feel anything less than human. i wasn’t alive when i was with m… i was a skeleton of someone i once was; nothing but bones. the only thing i was able to feel was that dull pain in my gut every single time i saw him. part of me felt okay when he’d ask him to flush the drugs, or tell me he’d want to spend a night in instead of out at the bar… but none of that was ever permanent. he’d beg me to start a family with him, and although a lost, beaten, sad little puppy i was… i was always sober enough to know better.

his on again/off again girlfriend decided to message me the other day to let me know that they’d recently been to cuba, where he was planning to propose, and instead came home and broke up with her. why she feels the need to let me know these things is completely beyond me- but that’s beside the point. i did what any human with half a heart would do, and comforted her. what else could i do? i know how hard it is to escape him.

in any case i guess this is some pseudo-excuse as to why the hell i’m so broken. luc constantly tells me i’m impossible and he’d do anything to reverse whatever pain m has inflicted so i could just give him a chance… but i’m beyond that at this point. i’ve had two relationships- both at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and both of those were rollercoasters and now i’m just tired.

i’m so fucking tired.