I’m not a blogger

Blogging twice a week is proving to be a struggle for me.  As in blogging once a week/month/year/lifetime.  Frankly, I just don’t care about it.  I’m wondering just how narcissistic, insecure, and/or needy of attention one has to be to blog with any sort of frequency.

I set a goal to blog this year in the hopes that it would reawaken my creative side and lead back to creative writing… that’s not happened so far.

I thought about making this blog about running, but I’d rather run.  I though about making it about counselling, psychology, or addictions, but that’s my day job and I’m happy leaving it as such.  I could make it about lgbt issues… but I don’t really have any issues.  And the struggle goes on as such.

Also, no one’s reading the blog, sooooooo…

I’ll keep going with this and it will likely continue to slip my mind and not be overly (or at all) important to me.  But it could serve as a decent outlet in times of need.  So, until next time.



Not even a month into the year and I’ve already missed my goal of posting twice a week. Oh well. Missing last week was partly due to slight depression, a boring life, and not really caring to post or have a topic to post about.

There are two days left in January and it’s time to get serious about my fitness.  My weight is the lowest I can recall it being in 10 years, which is awesome.  Due to my history of eating disorders, I have to be careful not to get carried away or obsessed with my weight.  I intend to focus on my fitness by adhering to a workout routine which will involve running three to four days a week, going to spin class twice a week, strength training two to three days a week, and taking one full rest day each week.  To be sure I don’t fall into another eating disorder, I’ll also be sure to eat appropriate meals three times a day with snacks.  With the level of activity I have planned, I certainly don’t need to calorie count and I refuse to do it… that’s a dangerous road that I have no intention of travelling again.

Wish me luck!

Life these days

I’m in the process of applying to grad schools and what a process it is.  I’m not certain that I’ll make the Feb. 1 deadline for one of the programs, but I’m sure trying.  The hardest part of the process for me is writing the letter of intent.  I’m not good at promoting myself… in fact, I kinda suck at it.  The main part of the issue is that I cannot stand arrogance and selling myself feels a lot like bragging and arrogance.

Also, I’m trying to build a social life since I really don’t have one.  Guys, it is hard meeting people outside of school.  Especially in winter when there’s not a lot of social stuff going on.  It’s made even harder when you don’t particularly enjoy meeting new people because you’re an introvert to the extreme.

On top of that, I’m trying to find a hob back home in Alberta with AHS and that’s not been going too well; this is in part due to a lack of jobs and in part due to my pickiness.  I have a stable career where I am, so I’m in no rush and have the option of being picky.

Anyway, this is kind of scraped together; the next post will be better… maybe.  Perhaps I’ll drink a beer before writing it :).

Anxiety and It’s Role in My Life

So, I’ve struggled with anxiety lifelong, in hindsight. As a teenager and young adult, I didn’t recognize it for what it was; in fact, despite a degree in psychology, I didn’t recognize my anxiety until it was exacerbated by trauma in my mid- and late-20s.  I was prescribed an SSRI for several years and chose to discontinue in spring 2015 (what a wild ride that was).


So, in the last three years since d/cing my SSRI, I have realized the many ways that anxiety presents itself.  For instance, I don’t suffer from low self-esteem, but, man, am I ever hard on myself. I am constantly expecting to be reprimanded or corrected at work and have rather unrealistic expectations for myself hence the being super hard on myself. The hypervigilance is part anxiety and part trauma – some left over PTSD, methinks.  Though I’ve done the work on my trauma and believe that it is as resolved as it’s going to get, there’s some residue which is to be expected.


Back to the anxiety.  I stress over unrealistic, uncontrollable things and, at times, spend too much mental energy on others.  As mentioned, I feel as though I could be and will be reprimanded/addressed at work at any time despite not having done anything that requires reprimanding/addressing.  I constantly feel like I’m inadequate at my job despite evidence to the exact opposite.  Nothing I do feels good enough… for me.  I obsess over minor things, I worry what people think/will think, I worry about being wrong or looking like a fool, I worry.


Though I’m pretty good at masking it (or I think I am, at least), I’m pretty consistently anxious it’s just that the level of anxiety ranges from mild discomfort to holy-hell-I-want-to-run-home-and-never-show-my-face-again to not being sure I can get out of bed in the morning and face the world (though I have to since my dog needs her walks).


I have forgotten what life without moderate to severe anxiety looks like.


As a result, I have developed wonderful coping skills for my anxiety, but most of all, I refuse to let it control me.  My father has suffered from anxiety as well and he taught me to never let it get control of me because it would be a battle to ever regain control.  I’ve taken that to heart, so it’s just not an option to give into my anxiety which makes for some pretty uncomfortable, exhausting occasions.


My main coping mechanism is exercise be it walking my dog, running, cycling, strength training, boxing, or whatever I feel like doing at the time.  A lot of self-care and alone time, firm boundaries around my time (ie. I don’t make social plans on work nights as I have a taxing career and need that time to recharge), healthy relationships, healthy sleep hygiene, healthy nutrition, counselling as needed, journalling, listening to music, regular massage, etc.


Though these coping mechanisms don’t take away the anxiety, they do reduce it to a manageable level thereby making life so very much more enjoyable.

New Year, New Hobbies

Now, I’m not one to make New Year’s Resolutions and that’s not what this is as it’s not prompted by the New Year, but by boredom, depression, and loneliness.  I need new hobbies – something that gets my ass off the couch, keeps my mind active, and isn’t overly physical – I run half-marathons. strength train,  recently took up spin class, and am going to start hiking with my dog on weekends so I’ve got exercise covered.

I’m thinking of maybe starting up a book club or even games night to meet new people and be a little more social. I used to write html code and build websites so that’s something I might take up again, photography is another consideration, I’m planning to regularly read about psychology/addictions to further my profession, I want to get into creative writing again, and I might give video games a go – they’re supposed to great for memory. And I’m limiting my TV time to an hour a night.

Also, I’m going to attempt to post something on here twice a week… I’m even setting myself a reminder on my new Amazon Echo :). So, see you Wednesday.

Can I Be Her

I wonder if you’re happy. I wonder if you could be happier with me.

I’ve never you seen her with her, but I’ve heard you talk about her and I wonder if you’re in love and happy or caring and content. You talk about her and I don’t understand how it works. I don’t hear passion and love, I hear it’s good enough and she chased me. I don’t hear I love her or I can’t imagine my life without her.

We talk about her and you say what you wish was different though you offer the disclaimer that you don’t want to be judgmental or to change her. You tell me you find my confidence sexy and that I’m out of your league. You say that like it’s a compliment until I tell you that it’s not; in fact, what it says to me is that I’m not worth taking a risk on.

I wonder what you’re doing with her when you could have had me. But then I hear you sound like you’re settling for good enough and telling me why I’m out of your league and I realize that you could have had me – past tense. Past tense because I realize that your insecurities and my confidence do put us in different leagues – though it doesn’t mean that one of us is too good for the other.  Past tense because I’m not willing to settle. Past tense because I know my worth and I want a partner that knows her as well.

I used to want to be her, but now I’m happy being me and if you want to settle then I wish you the best. Personally, I refuse to settle.


She wasn’t afraid of relationships… okay, that wasn’t entirely true.  The idea of being hurt, of being vulnerable, of putting herself out there and not being met… that freaked her the fuck out.  She had a tendency to go all in, to put her entire self into a relationship even when it seemed to others that she was holding part of herself back.  She was terrified of being hurt, of coming up short, of being told that her everything wasn’t enough.  It had happened too often.  Too many past partners hadn’t recognized how vulnerable she was making herself.  Hadn’t known that she was open and exposed and raw.  Hadn’t known that their judgements and their ‘you’re not trying’ and their ‘I don’t know where I stand with you’ left wounds that she didn’t know how to heal.  Wounds that sent her reeling and left her confused because she thought she’d been so transparent.  Thought she’d shown how she felt about each of them.  She felt like she’d exhausted herself in demonstrating her feelings, in making sure they knew what they meant to her.  She felt like she’d shown them her true self only to have them tell her that it wasn’t enough, they didn’t know her feelings, that she was only half invested in the relationship with one foot out the door.


How could she not be afraid of relationships when everyone she’d been in a relationship with had told her that her best effort – her utmost vulnerability – wasn’t enough?  She didn’t understand how she could be more open, more vulnerable, more real without destroying herself.


How could she allow herself to be vulnerable and share everything when the scariest thing to share, the one thing she held back, was the fear that her everything was nothing?


Perhaps that caused her to protect herself.  Maybe she unknowingly and unintentionally held others at a safe distance.  Was that really her fault when all her past partners had nonverbally told her that she wasn’t enough.  When the first (only) woman to whom she’d said ‘I love you’ responded by questioning it – implying that it couldn’t be true.  Implying that she didn’t know herself or her own heart?


Was it wrong that she was terrified of putting herself out there, of putting her heart on the line and again facing painful, excruciating rejection?


How could she learn to let people in when she’d been wounded so deeply in the past.  When every seemed to think she made a wonderful best friend, but wasn’t worth risking their heart for.  When no one seemed to realize how much of herself she was putting on the line, how exposed she felt, how vulnerable she was sitting across the table from them, making small talk over coffee.


She was wounded and she knew it.  What she didn’t know was how to heal those wounds.