013. Survival

 

girls-can-survive-without-a-boyfriend-but-they-cant-survive-without-a-best-friend-quote-1

*disclaimer: it is actually “girlfriend” in my case, I just couldn’t find the lesbian version of this quote. *

I like finding quote pictures to insert in my posts as I find it to help foreshadow what the entry is about. When I was googling “quotes about friends who have passed on” this is one of the first images I got. I read it, and it struck something inside of me.

2130 days. That’s how long I have spent on this Earth without my best friend. In truth, I have not “fully” mourned her loss. Recently, her absence has been hitting me harder then ever.

How do you survive without your best friend? 

Honestly, I have no idea. I don’t know how I have managed to go about my day to day life.

I know that I am too good at hiding deep, strong emotions. Emotions and events that are closer to the surface tend to be the ones that everyone sees; happiness, joy, anger at current situation, etc. Things like loss and deep routed sadness are things I push far under the rug. Defense mechanism perhaps?


I can still remember that day so clearly; the day we found out about her death. I, and about 6 other people, were at an old friend of mine’s house. We were all piled onto her bed telling stories and sharing laughs. All of a sudden one of the girls got a text saying a young woman had passed away in an MVC earlier that day. Curiosity set in as between the 6 of us, we knew a lot of people from that city. I heard the girls phone ding, and I remember her saying “I don’t recognize this name, it’s not any one I know. Here – take a look.” Although the spelling was way off, I can still feel the knot in my stomach as I read her name on the screen..

Oddly enough, what I remember so clearly was franticly running around trying to find news articles, calling friends and family, even calling news stations. I remember finally getting a call back from my mother, “I’m so sorry, it’s her. It’s her.”


2130 days. 2 months shy of 6 years. I can’t believe it’s been so long. My heart aches thinking of where she would be right now. I picture her married to her then boyfriend, maybe one or two kids. I picture her being a beloved teacher. I picture us talking endlessly every day about non sense like we always did. I picture long, tearful reuinions. I picture laughter.


I miss her everyday. I miss my person.

& with that, if you’re still reading this, know that I like you, I appreciate you, thank you.

-Dani

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012. Truthfully, shameful.

Related imageMaybe it’s starting the laundry you let pile up for 2 weeks, or the dishes that are starting to form a colony of molding crumbs, or even cleaning out that it-doesn’t-belong-anywhere-so-I-will-put-it-here “Monica Geller closet” you’ve been meaning to de-clutter.

Regardless of the reason, getting started is always the most difficult. For me, I always find myself struggling to find the motivation to begin any task at hand.

The problem I am faced with now is that I am INCREDIBLY inspired to make healthy choices and to live a better life. That being said, I am having trouble finding the motivation to just get up and do it.

 


I logged in to my dashboard for the first time in a while and I found this in my draft box. I find it rather ironic that I talk about how getting started is the hardest part and then I just disregarded this post, tossing it aside into my drafts.

I’ve been struggling.

I feel like everyday I am slowly being consumed by this BED problem. If I’m honest, I’m just plain angry.

I am so angry that it even got to this point. I am the heaviest I’ve ever been, I’m miserable in my skin, my anxiety is through the roof and I’m just at a loss.

It’s hard to talk about it, too. When you want to reach out, something inside of you whispers “DON’T. They won’t understand.”. Truthfully, I believe that voice. It’s as if there is this emancipated section of my brain that takes over from time to time and makes believe that I am forever alone with my struggles. Every time I feel as though I am making progress, everything crashes down again.

This feeling isn’t for lack of good in my life. I have so many things that I have to be grateful for; my partner, who is hands down the best person on this earth, (most of) my family, a great job with great benefits, food in my fridge and a warm bed to sleep in every night. I told this to my therapist during a recent session and she mentioned that maybe I am filling a void that I am not aware of.

What first crossed her mind was my best friend; who passed away almost 6 years ago. She theorized that I was filling that void with food. Makes sense, seeing as the bingeing started around the time of her death.

I’m not sure if I’m ready to go into that just yet. I see my therapist tomorrow and she may push for me to write about her. If I do, I will likely post something here as well, as I am trying to post more often.

 

As always, if you’re reading this, I like you, I appreciate you. Thank you.

– Dani

004. Vanilla Cupcake Swirl

As my night shift is slowly coming to an end, I realize that I forgot to post something today! I know that most bloggers don’t post daily, but I really want to make the effort. I think if I push myself to do it everyday, blogging will eventually become second nature and I will always find a way to squeeze it into my days.

Quick disclaimer; just because I want to “train” (lack of a better term) my mind to remember to blog each day does NOT mean this is a chore. I WANT to blog and I find joy in doing so. I guess my motive is really to stick to something that will allow me to have a voice and use it. I’ve found this to be an outlet where I can speak freely. The views or follower count do not matter to me, although I do STRONGLY appreciate anyone who takes the time to read my words. I have always found that blogging (previously done on my tumblr page) was a great way for me to express myself. I have never really had a talent or found my calling. I tried playing guitar (acoustic AND electric), signing, dancing (AWFUL), making videos, drawing, painting. You name it, I have probably tried it, even sports. Nothing has ever really stuck. The only thing that I have ever really considered myself to like enough to keep doing.

It wasn’t all blogging though. I was actually telling this story to my coworkers earlier today. When I was in grade 8, I remember starting a diary. Now, it wasn’t your traditional diary, you know, the kind that all the girls kept under their beds with one of those little heart shaped locks and they would wear the key around their necks, kind of Zoey 101 style. I had tried for a long time to keep a “traditional” diary, but somehow my mom always seemed to find it and laugh at all my entries. I decided I needed to try something else. So one day I opened a Word document and began writing. The first chapter I wrote was titled “Vanilla Cupcake Swirl”, which was actually a perfume I had bought a few days ago from Walmart. I remember writing about all the gossip from that day; the new couple that starting dating in 3rd period, the boy who finally asked his long term crush out and got REJECTED, my crush finally talking to me (they asked for a pen), and so on. Of course, I changed everyone’s names and exaggerated some things, but at the end of the entry I was so proud. I was so excited about what I just created that everyday I would write another chapter.

It wasn’t until I had about 4 chapters written that I had accidentally brought the pages to school in my 5 star binder. I’m not entirely sure how, but one of the boys in my class got a hold of it and began reading it. I overheard him call his friends over for them to start reading them. The lunch bell rang, and as I was gathering my things the group of 4 boys came over and asked me about what I had written. I told them it was just something I was doing for fun. They ended up liking it so much and sharing it with so many other kids that I actually had people waiting for the new chapters, day after day.

Something you need to understand was that I have never been a very popular kid. I only had a handful of friends, and the numbers got lower as I got older. I was the tallest girl, also the chubbiest, and was just dorky. So for at least 20 kids to want to even speak to me on the daily was such a big deal for me. And it lasted all year. Of course, like all good things, that came to an end by the time high school hit, and everyone found out that I was writing about them. Oh well!

Basically, this little anecdote was to give you some perspective as to how much I enjoy writing. The beginning was the above mentioned diary, and then came tumblr, then came poems and them came this. I guess I am just so happy that these kind of platforms exist for people like me to express themselves and do something they enjoy. And as an added bonus, I can come back to this in a few years and look back at the life I had at 23.

Well, I am now off to bed, to sleep for at least 12 hours. Night shifts are hard!

If you’ve made it this far without falling asleep, I like you and I appreciate you.
-Dani

003. Best Foot Forward

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It is currently 1 am and I am working a night shift. While trying to stay away, I Googled “tumblr pics” to see if I could find some cool things to share on the blog. As I was scrolling through the images, the picture I have inserted caught my eye. The quote triggered emotion in me, which is how I knew I had to share.

About a week ago, I received an email from my local RCMP recruitment office saying that I have been selected to come in for testing for a Telecommunications job (I had applied for this about 6 months ago). At first, I was in shock. I really had no idea what to think. An opportunity like this seems to be a dime a dozen, and I was ecstatic that I was given the opportunity.

Of course, once the hype was over, I was left in a panic. I know, I know; why would a proficiency testing for a potential new career (that would almost double my salary btw) scare the day lights out of me? I was no stranger to the local RCMP. Without too much detail, back in 2011 I was a victim to sexual assault. Long story short (that I will blog about, at some point), the years following this event have been internally traumatic.

Let me give you a little break down. Since the trauma occurred, many of my decisions were based on how anxious the situation would make me. For example, when I was deciding on where I wanted to go for college/what courses I wanted to take, the first thing I thought of was how likely it would be for me to run into That Individual (this is how I will refer to the abuser). I also though about what careers would make me more accessible; what environment I would work in, what field I would work in, what kind of people would I most likely run into, etc. My dream had ALWAYS been to be a Marine Biologist. I have such a passion for marine life and for the beauty of the sea and its conservation. Due to the fact that I did so poorly in school (seriously kids, listen to your parents and DON’T be a heathen), I was basically forced into a new career path. After much thought, I soon decided that Medical Administration would be a good fit for me, and the guidance counselors at my high school agreed. I had all the pamphlets and information on the job that I needed. All that was left was for me to make a choice when I was ready.

Fast forward to 2013 when I was finally ready to take the next step in life; apply for college. Going back to the above mentioned emotions I was going through, I somehow came to the conclusion that beauty school (Medical Aesthetics) would be the best fit for me. Keep in mind, this was NOT a passion of mine. This was a safety net. I had concluded that I would be in a school full of woman (therefore That Individual would not be there), most of the clients that come into the school for services would be female, and my clientele would likely be female as well. To make matters worse, at this time in my life, I was dating this woman who was incredibly controlling, and mentally abusive (again, another post, another day). We both ended up enrolling in this school and for the next year it was hell. Towards the end of my term, we had broken up, so not only was I studying to be something I did not want to be, I was forced to see my ex day in and day out and have to put on a pretty face because “Look’s are Everything” in the beauty industry, according to our dean anyway.

Fast forward to now, I am currently a Telecommunications Clerk at my local hospital. I am so incredibly fortunate to wake up everyday and go to work at a job I adore. The best thing, I managed to persevere through to pain and anxiety of working in such a public place. Most of the time I am down in the main lobby manning the front desk, so I am very much in the public. With a lot – A LOT – of therapy and counselling I have managed to work hard to achieve something I love. And now that I am given another opportunity to try something new, that anxiety and that memory pain came flooding back.

Moral of this story, no matter your struggle, it is valid and it is REAL. Believe me when I say, just as the picture above says, a small act of courage will get you so very far. I have never believe myself to be brave or courageous, I simply think of myself as a woman – a human – who has been dealt some pretty shitty cards. I also see myself as a woman who has worked her ass off to keep herself sane enough to get by, day after day. If I can do it, BELIEVE ME, so can you. It won’t be easy; it will be the hardest up hill battle. But I promise you, the view from the top is SO worth it.

I’m still not where I want to be, but I know I’m headed there.

And if you’re still reading this, I like you, I appreciate you.

-Dani