harken all you fallen angels

I know that I've always been indecisive, switching from idea to idea like my life was on a teeter-totter. One second I'm here, the next I'm way over there with different wants and a whole new outlook. I've dragged friends to a restaurant claiming a certain craving that wouldn't let up--then I've looked at the menu, started talking incessantly about another dish, then ultimately end up ordering something I had never even mentioned. Indecisive.

But the way I've been since February...it's a whole other category of indecisive. It's new, even to me--and it's worrisome.

One second I'm hellbent on getting my MBA from a particular university in the States. The next second, I'm determined to quit my job and move to Halifax again for the summer, and push for another better job in September. The next second, I want to keep my current job, stay in Montreal and see how it all plays out.

Underneath it all, rooted deeply below all this indecision is a cause more frightening than any I've ever encountered.

I don't know what makes me happy anymore.

This has never happened to me before.

I have always known what made me happy, and I used to make myself crazy chasing it. But at least I knew what it was, and ultimately when I got it, I was happy.

Last year at this time, Halifax made me happy. The year before that, applying to grad school made me really happy. In January, getting a full time job in my field on salary made me happy.

But since February, every time I ask myself what makes me happy...I can't find an answer.

I don't have an answer.

Halifax makes me happy, I guess. But I don't want to take a meaningless full time job there and live with roommates and be away from my friends for 3 months. When I started apartment and job hunting there this afternoon, I thought man, what a pain in the ass to go through this. I didn't feel that way last year. I was pumped. I can't even explain why, but when I give myself the option to move there for 3 months...I don't want to. I don't know why. But there's something in me that says no.

Montreal doesn't make me unhappy enough to quit this job and move. But I'm unhappy where I am, in the bachelor of my parent's house with them always a little too close for me to feel really free.

I want to go back to school and get my MBA, but I also don't much feel like moving to the US and incurring $60,000 in debt over two years.

Since February I've had this emptiness in me--this giant black hole that has been draining me and draining me. I knew something was wrong. My habits changed. I started hating myself again--I'd pull and tug at my clothes, cross my arms over my stomach. Mentally counted calories and beat myself up everytime I ate. I looked in the mirror and saw a girl that I thought was fat, hideous. Empty. I started running too much. Every time I ran I envisioned myself running away from everything. I'd come back physically exhausted but mentally, my mind would still be reeling. Weird dreams. Malaise. Heart palpitations. Just this giant pit of black that sucks every ounce of energy out of you. No will to do pleasurable things anymore--baking, cooking, dancing, thinking peacefully. All the things that balanced me were now empty.

It's the loneliest thing in the world, to not know what makes you happy anymore. Because nobody can help.

and i know my kingdom awaits

I wonder if I'll ever get to where I want to be.

I wonder if somebody will ever look at my CV, know that I probably don't have all the experience necessary, but hire me anyway. I wonder if somebody will one day see the drive and determination to succeed that exhausts me everyday.

I wonder if I'll ever find peace. Mentally, emotionally, physically.

I wonder if I'll ever learn to let go.

I wonder if I'll ever learn to hang on for just another little while.

I wonder if I'll ever learn how to fail, but more importantly, I wonder if I'll ever learn how to accept that I've succeeded.

I wonder if I'll ever learn to take it easy on myself.

I wonder if I'll ever learn that moving forward is good, but sometimes, standing still and looking around is even better.

The people who claimed that having goals was a good thing were the ones who have achieved every goal they've ever had. Somebody should tell them that some goals are bad. And those are the goals that you don't achieve, and they eat you alive and gnaw at your heart and induce screaming fits of rage.

Goals are not good to have. Because when you don't win - and you won't always win - then those goals destroy you.

I wonder if I'll ever find peace.

don't let me get me

I've always heard that life was about choices. Ever since I was a kid, it's a saying that's been hammered so deeply into my brain that I can't even remember who was the perpetrator of the verbal assault.

Life is about choices.

In my depression-ridden 17-year old brain, choices also equated sacrifice. It meant that I would, continuously, have to do things that I don't like doing in order to do things that I wanted to do. The concept became a familiarity to me--I did a lot of things I didn't like doing to ensure that every now and then, I'd get to do something I loved to do. Working crazy overtime for 4 months, for instance, to pay a trip to Cuba.

Choices meant sacrifices.

Nobody ever warned me that when you get older, sometimes choices have you bound and gagged in a place where you're forced to choose between two things you love so much--because where one is, the other doesn't exist.

Those are the worst choices, because you never win.

To say that I've been unhappy since returning from Halifax would be an understatement. I am downright miserable. Fed up. So over Montreal and the life I lead in it. So angry and depressed and constantly at war with myself because I'm just never happy anymore.

And when I'm alone with my monsters and I force myself to think and to analyze, to really dig down deep--I realize the only time in my life where I have been happy--and I mean happy--was when I lived in Halifax.

Was I running away from something there? Trying to trick myself into finding a false sense of happiness, secure in the certainty that it's easy to find happiness in something with an expiry date on it? No. I thought maybe that was the case when I came back to Montreal, so I stewed over it. Mentally beat myself up over it. Tore the curtain off my eyes and forced myself to really think.

I wasn't running away in Halifax. I wasn't even looking for something. But I sure did discover what I never even knew I was missing. And now I can't let it go.

Halifax felt like home. By no means is it paradise, but paradise is nowhere perfect and everywhere that just feels so right. I was just happy there.

So now, I'm stuck in a job that I hate, bound in a cubicle that I want to set fire to. My life is a mess of 9-5 mundane work shifts with hour lunch breaks and no energy left to do anything else. I'm living in a city that sucks the little spark I have left right out of me--a city where people slam doors in your faces and hurry from A to B and individuals become faceless masses.

Last week was the 7th anniversary since my grandpa passed away. Life seems short to me right now. And I'm wondering, that if life is indeed about choices--then why am I still here? Why am I wasting precious time--even a second--being in a place where I don't want to be?

I'm still here because life is exactly about choices, and I have to choose between two loves.

I have wanted to work in the NHL for a long, long time. The few tastes I get in the industry make me drunk with anticipation. I get so fired up over that league. Working the Winter Classic was an experience I will never forget, and every single time I work for Hockey Night in Canada, I am delirious with happy. I'm actually giddy over it, because it's such a trip for me.

Halifax is the only place I can call home. The feeling I get there is second to none. I am happy there. The ocean, the people, the atmosphere, the ambiance--everything about Halifax just reaches out and captures me in it's embrace. My gut feeling is yelling at me to go there. I'm big on instincts and mine are on fire about that city. It's calling me. Telling me to pick up and move there. It's saying that I don't have it all figured out, but nobody ever does and things will work out exactly the way they're suppsoed to. It's asking me why I'm wasting time being unhappy, when the choice is mine to make.

It would seem fitting, then, that one can't exist with the other. Where one is, the other isn't.

Halifax does not have an NHL team. It probably never will.

So, what's an almost-mid-twenties girl to do? My heart is screaming at me to go to Halifax. But my heart's worse enemy--my logic--is asking the tough questions. You can't live life on instinct, you'll end up homeless and in a box. People need to live. You need to have a job, make money, have a place to sleep.

I do not work in the NHL full time right now. But, I do have the opportunity to do really important contract work that I'm hoping--HOPING--will one day turn into a full time gig. Moving to Halifax would mean totally removing myself from a world I'm partially involved in. But partial is better than none, and if I leave now, I may never get another chance.

But I may never get a chance if I stay in Montreal, either.

Do I leave my big-girl job, go with the feeling that life is too short to live even a second in a place where you don't want to be, and figure it all out when I get there? Or do I stay, unhappy for the moment, but hope that one day it will get better? That one day I'll get a shot and all this misery will seem worth it?


Life is about choices. And I've always made bad ones.

i believe in answers

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.

This is for Mom, who battled breast cancer at the young age of 38. Mom, who endured aggressive radiation and underwent a tough surgery that scarred and removed half of her right breast, while keeping everything a secret so as not to worry us.

This is for Donna, a woman I work with. Donna battled breast cancer two years ago, underwent a double masectomy and advanced chemo treatments, wearing a wig so her two daughters never saw her lose her hair. And her biggest fear, to this day, is that one day her daughters might get it. Donna doesn't wear a padded bra, instead defies peoples' perceptions of struggle and wears her battles proudly and also with the humility that only a survivor can have.

This is for Lindsay, whose aunt and cousin died of the disease after a long and painful battle. Lindsay tattooed the pink ribbon on her arm to never forget.

This is for my two best friends and I, because statistics show that in the coming years, one of us will have it.

This is for the women that lost their hair, and the women that shaved their heads before the chemo could ravage it. This is for the women that have one breast or no breasts, and the women that bear the scars of their battle. This is for the women who won, whether in this life or in a life beyond our understanding. For the women in pain, and for the women who no longer feel the pain.

This is for the survivors, for the departed, for the warriors, the moms, the grandmas, the aunts, the sisters.

This is for women.

Let's find a cure.

nothing good comes easily

"Sometimes the only way to move forward is to stop moving. To stand still and to decide that no matter what happens, no matter how much it hurts, you are exactly where you want to be."

Just breathe.

Nothing tastes more bitter in your mouth than the harsh sting of mortality. It's a reminder that mankind, in all of it's glory, is infallible. It's the realization that your parents are not super heroes--and even more upsetting--that your parents are just like you. Human.

I came back from Nova Scotia to a dad that had to be rushed in for emergency surgery for a pretty serious condition. He had no idea and didn't really pay much attention to the symptoms. He's okay now, but it'll be a long road to recovery.

My dad and I have always been close. I have a lot of his spirit and his fire in me, it's something we both realize and are proud of. But seeing him high on morphine for weeks, totally out of it with scary bandages and gauze encompassing his leg, I wanted nothing more than to crawl back onto his lap and have him read Curious George to me, in that funny voice that he does just to make me laugh.

Seeing a loved one in pain is one thing. But seeing dad like that was enough to make me scream. My dad's infallible. My dad's the cooolest person ever--the man who taught me how to ride a bike, the man who taught me how to put oil in my car, and the man that chased a boyfriend around two blocks with a steel pipe, just to give him a good scare.

"That boy won't ever hurt you now," he said. I stared wide eyed between my crazy dad and my boyfriend, who was still out on our lawn, wide eyed, chest heaving.

He's doing better now. But seeing a man so strong, so proud, hobbling around still in so much pain is devastating. I've been taking him to his daily doctor's appointment. It's probably a moment of shame for him, to have to be driven around and puttered over, but it gives me a sense of pride to be able to do a few small things to take care of him. He's spent his life taking care of me.

It just makes everything seem so fleeting. Things have been tough since I came back from Nova Scotia. I can't change the situation, but I can change my outlook, so I've been working on it.

I chose to come back. I chose to take a great opportunity with CBC. I choose to be happy wherever I am, because I may not always control why I'm in a particular situation, but I can control how I react to it.

It just seems a little trivial. When I was in Halifax, there was a boy from the past that popped up. He said all the right things (again), we talked, and he made a good pitch. Told me he realized how I was, understood why I keep running away, said that we could go real slow. He really poured it out and it sounded genuine. I told him we'd talk when I got back to Montreal. Here I am, and he disappeared. Just completely vanished, and it's as if the entire thing never happened.

I can't control the present. I certainly can't control the future. But maybe, just maybe, I can close my eyes and trust that while it may not feel right, while it may not be where I want to be, while it may feel so completely unnatural and wrong--that I am exactly where I am supposed to be right now.

Maybe, if I close my eyes.

And just remember to breathe.

when I was in your heart

Saturday is my 24th birthday. On that day at 10:33AM, I will be one year older.

I will also be leaving Nova Scotia to return to Montreal.

I don't want to leave. This place not only feels like home, but it reminded of what it's like to be happy. To feel comfortable.

To be by my beloved ocean.

Leaving. After four months, the crisp autumn wind rolled in and whispered in my ear that it's time to go.

So, on my 24th birthday, I'm going to be leaving a part of myself behind, here. And she'll stay here until next summer, when I can feel alive again.

wasting away again in margaritaville...

It amazes me that four months has passed by without me even realizing it. Somehow, the months of December-March never seem to pass by so quickly.

I'm driving back to Montreal--which I've stopped calling home, if you've noticed--on Saturday. I've been so consumed with thoughts of returning that I completely forgot that this Saturday is my 24th birthday. I had wanted to drive back on that day because I thought there was no better way to end a four month journey of self reflection than to drive back on the day where I get to turn the page and start a new year. One year older and lightyears wiser, but still with a reckless abandon that I think, and hope, I will always possess. The happiest people in the world have mastered that balance between wisdom and complete blissful stupidity.


If you had asked me in June, I would have said that I was coming to Halifax to change. To learn something, to be different. I did learn, I learned a whole lot. But the magnitude of this trip will hit me in pieces, later on. When I react to a situation in a way that I never would have before, that's when I will realize exactly how important this experience was for me. how essential it was, just to be able to grow as a person.

Because that's what it's all about, really. People never really change. I learned that. They just morph into different shades of the same colour. You grow, you shed skin, you sprout new leaves, you just keep growing while remaining the same foundation of yourself. I came here looking for change, and I'm leaving here knowing that it doesn't exist. Thankful that it doesn't exist.

It's funny that nothing typically monumental hppened in Halifax--things that other people would see as a big deal and would justify what I did. My life has never been typical, so I'm not overly concerned about another person's input. I didn't fall in love with a boy this summer. Instead, I chose to believe that there is a boy out there that I can fall in love with. That realization and acknowledgement was a big step for me.

Moving to Halifax for four months was essential to my well being. Getting out of Montreal was essential for my well being. It figures that I've only ever wanted to work in the NHL, and Halifax is one Canadian city that lacks an NHL team. The irony is not lost on me.

But maybe as the months go on, my shades will change and it will make sense. Maybe it won't ever mak sense. Life is about choices, and if we never had to choose between two very difficult things, then we'd never appreciate what we chose as important.

Life is about the constant decisions you make everyday, about what is important to you. Because everyday, you let something go.

This summer was as much about letting go as it was about choices. Letting go of negative assumptions. Letting go of what I think should happen, and choosing to just believe. Believe in anything.

Believe in everything.

People can be compared to stained-glass windows. Although they glitter and shine when the sun is out, when night falls and darkness prevails the true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.