Down, But Not Out- REVISED

Last night was the first night in two weeks that I went to bed excited about the following day. As I laid my head on my pillow, I said to myself “Tomorrow is going to be powerful day!” … But it did not start like that.

Everyone has bad days… This is what one of mine looks like.


I hate the days when I have to retreat to a bathroom stall to silently cry.

I am having one of those days.

I am feeling so ashamed of who I am. I feel like a piece of shit, like I’m wasting my life away.

I feel so ashamed of who I am and I don’t want to talk to people. I don’t want people to have to deal with who I am. I am literally sitting in a concrete stairwell because I don’t even want to burden strangers with my presence by sitting amongst a crowd.

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I am sick of Sunday Nights

Tonight I called my dad and he answered the phone out of breath… “Is everything okay?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said “I knew it would be you, so I ran from downstairs to answer the phone.” I chuckle a bit, “Yes, I call every Sunday night.”

I would love to say that I call my parents every Sunday night to get them caught up on my wonderful life… but in reality our calls are filled with a lot of tears and A LOT of swearing – I am pretty sure I swear more on Sunday night than I do the rest of the week combined. I call my parents every Sunday night in either a fit of rage or anxiety over school.

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The Strange Art of Spiralling

Have you ever hated something so much that you just want to run away and never look back?

What if that something is yourself?

Feeling terribly trapped in a person you hate. I experience this.

Wow, writing that makes me cry.

I don’t know where or when my anxiety popped up. I don’t know when I started being so destructive. I don’t know when I started to beat myself up. I don’t know when I started letting it control my life.

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Recovering Perfectionist

“You can apologize for what you have done, but don’t ever apologize for who you are!” – The wisest man I know


Growing up, I was always the ‘perfect one’.

I was the youngest and only daughter in my family. I grew up with two older brothers and they didn’t make it difficult for to claim the title.

I always knew I was a perfectionist. I loved being at the top of my class, placing top 10 at synchro competitions, doing everything, and excelling at all of it. Even when I got to University I did everything I could to satisfy my need to be perfect. I worked so hard towards the life that I was ‘supposed to’ be living

Little did I know how much of an impact that was having on my life, my self-esteem, my ability to live in the moment, and my ability to chase my dreams.  Continue reading

Blank Slate

Picture life as a canvas.

The moment you are born, the first stroke on that canvas is made. Everything you do, say, or think is translated into a brush stroke on that canvas. There are an infinite number of strokes and colours. Some of them are a lot more prominent, and some seem to fade into the background. Some of the colours are bold and beautiful hues that scream ‘happiness, love, and joy’. Others are thick lines of black, which mark the times of turmoil and pain. Every line on that canvas- no matter how insignificant- has shaped us into who we are today. Continue reading

Where Is My Perfect Life?

Social media makes it so hard to love your life. It makes it so hard to feel content with where you are and where you are going. I always wonder to myself “Why doesn’t my life look like that? When do I get my turn to be perfect?”

I find that everyone around me has perfect pictures, at the perfect place, with the perfect people. When I see the lives of others I can’t help but feel envious. I can’t help but want what they have. I can’t help but question the decisions that have led me to where I am. I can’t help but wonder how things would’ve been had I chosen a different path. It is hard not to look back and think of all the ‘what ifs’. Continue reading