I hate Canada Day.

It's a tough day for me. It brings back all these memories, ya know? When I was with my ex, it was family tradition. Always on the Canada Day weekend, we'd go to the lake. The whole family. We'd boat and fish, find a beach to relax. Have a fire and drinks. It wasn't a lot, but it was. It was one of the only times of the year that we were all guaranteed to be together.

I'm feeling extra alone this year. I have no friends. Well, that's a lie. I do have friends, a very few select people. I don't have a large crowd, and I'm happy keeping it that way. But here I sit, on my couch, all alone. On Canada Day. The day I hate most in the world.

Don't get me wrong! I am very proud to be Canadian. I love me some poutine and caesars! I just hate this day.

I don't want to rely on someone else for my happiness. I won't rely on someone else for it! My happiness can only be made by me.

I just don't understand why j allow other people to define my sadness then. Take, for example, this guy that I'm dating. I think. He was/is my boyfriend. Now I'm not so sure. I opened up to him, just a bit. And now he's just not speaking to me.

We were supposed to hang out. And for the fourth time in our very short relationship, he has bailed on me. so I told him, I'm upset. That's not cool.

Know what I got?

Radio silence. For 24 hours.

I guess feelings aren't okay. I guess being hurt isn't okay. I guess feeling sad isn't okay. Feeling like you're "less important than" is not okay.

It's just not fair.

Life isn't fair.

I know I sound like a whiny baby, and maybe I am. But it's just not fair.

This song's for you.

https://youtu.be/l3uG4T8pJfw

Happy Mental Health Awareness Month!

AKA "You're Faking It" Month! AKA "Your Problems Aren't Real" Month! AKA "My Problems are the Only Ones that Matter" Month!

Yeah. Can you tell I'm down on this bullshit month? Like, seriously. It's so fucking stupid. Hey, let's dedicate a month to those people who "think" their lives are so bad, and make them believe we care!!!

Yeah. Fuck you. That's what I say.

I'm not faking it.  I contemplated suicide only five and a half weeks ago. I laid in bed, 5 in the morning, and I thought to myself "Huh. I should just do it."

Thankfully I didn't, because my son came to live with me full time shortly after.

Do you know???? Do you KNOW how guilty it makes a parent feel? Seriously. Fuck you. Fuck off. I find out, finally, that my son has been getting verbally and mentally abused by his father. Like... WHAT THE FUCK! How did I not know this? I'm the worst mom ever. I should just kill myself.

Nope. I can't do that. I won't do that. Know why? Because of him. My angel son. My love. The greatest thing in my life. The reason I am alive. My angel son.

My problems ARE real. So get off your high horse. Fuck off. Or fuck the horse. No, don't do that. That's gross. And weird. And maybe illegal? So, please don't do that. But DO fuck off.

I was molested when I was a kid. That shit stays with you. Especially when it's the late 80s or early 90s and the cops are all... Meh... Let's see if he touches you again. Then MAYBE we'll do something about it.

I was picked on. No, bullied. All through school. Grade 4 to Grade 11. Grade 12 was okay, though, because the Bitches had graduated. So it wasn't terrible. But still. Eight straight years of bullying. Fuck off. Be nice. It really is that simple.

I was raped when I was 19. Let's not get into that piece of shit.

After being raped, and molested, and bullied, I was worthless. Or at least I felt worthless. So... Hello abusive relationship! Hello broken nose! Hello butcher knives tossed at my head!

Fuck that piece of shit, too.

Finally, I left. After 11 years! Happy almost anniversary to me! Three years free! Well, never free. Obviously.

Last but not least...

THIS is directed at one person, and one person ONLY. Not sure he'll ever read this or not, but I honestly don't GIVE A FUCK ANYMORE.

Your problems matter. Yes. They do. And I was always there to listen. And I was ALWAYS FUCKING THERE FOR YOU!!!!!! But guess what? My problems matter, too! You are not the only person in the fucking world with mental health issues!

Maybe I've never been hospitalized. That doesn't mean they don't matter. So fuck you, hope you have a wonderful life, stay out of mine, because I'm better off without you. I have friends who actually care about me, and don't just use me like you did for 3 FUCKING YEARS. I mean, I'm stupid for putting up with it. But you're even more stupid, because I'm tired of your shit, and everyone else will eventually tire of your shit, and soon, you'll be all by yourself. Because your problems are the ONLY ones that matter. Soon, very soon, Karma will bite you in the ass. Even more than she already has!

#endrant

Feelin (sorry for) myself

Oy.

I don't know why I like that word so much. Oy. Is it even a word? It's like saying "oh", but fancy like.

So, my grandparents owned a store in my hometown, Village Video. It was a wonderful little store that they literally started in their livingroom. The converted their house into a house/store. It was pretty cool. I remember thinking that was awesome, my grandparents owning a store! My mom worked at it, my grandparents owned it, but I rarely got anything for free! Maybe a candy here and there, lol.

I remember these drinks, I can't remember what they were called. Maybe astro pop or something? It had like beads in it, and they were THE coolest thing since sliced bread! And all I ever wanted was one. Of course, I never had money, and my grandparents wouldn't give me one.

Then this one day, I had enough money, and I got one! And it was a TOTAL WASTE! It wasn't good. It sucked. It was like... because everyone else was having them, I had to, as well.

I think it may have been that moment, subconsciously, that determined that I was never going to follow the masses. Masses are just asses with an m, anyway.

I'm weird. I love being weird. I am my own amazing version of myself. I am 33 years old. I love being alone. I hate being alone. I love puzzles and crocheting. I like awkwardly flirting with cute men, geeky men, sexy men, manly men! And I do mean AWKWARD! It's like "Hey, do you like pickled garlic" kinda flirting. I swear I'm going to be alone forever.

Ugh. Oy. Where was I going with this.

Right.

I am weird. It's honestly my favorite thing about me! And my eyebrows. When they're on fleek that is. Do the kids still say that - on fleek? Anyway... Being weird is so cool. I mean, who wants to be like everyone else? Do I WANT to be 5'8" and 115 lbs? Nope. Do I want teeny tiny feet that can fit in little barbie shoes? Hells no! I love my clown feet! Do I want big breasts? Yes. Yes I actually do. But I'll settle for my big fat ass.

You know, I was coming here to write today, to feel sorry for myself. I really was. I had planned this whole "woe is me I have no one" post. But I have me. And my son. And, really, at the end of the day, what else matters? I don't need fake friends who are only there when it's convenient for them, or only call on me when they need to vent. I need me. That's it, that's all.

The rest is just gravy! And I do love my gravy 😊

Better frame of mind

I just don't get it.

Online dating is SO stupid. It's like... It's so full of shallow assholes. They all want this woman with the picture perfect body, the wrinkle free skin, the non-grey hair. They want someone with huge tits and a 32" waist. Maybe smaller? I don't know what "normal" is. They want someone with no so-called baggage. They're just so fucking dumb!

And then there's me. My body is far from perfect, although happy with who I am. I've got wrinkles, and I'm starting to notice them. Grey hair? Please, I've had it for 8 years, and I love EVERY SINGLE ONE. My waist ain't 32" and I've got a ton of baggage. I am a normal woman! But no one goes past what they see.

No one looks underneath the skin. That sounds weird and sadistic, but it's not. What I mean is, everyone thinks beauty is only skin deep. Am I shallow? Sure. I have standards. But I also take the time and look beyond.

What people don't see about me is my heart. I will randomly buy someone a meal, or give a homeless person whatever cash I have on me. I donate blood as often as I can. Hell, I want to donate a kidney! I would do anything for anyone else.

I volunteer regularly. I am THE most friendly person you'll ever meet! I have a huge heart, and love unconditionally. My son is my world, and I've gone without many time to ensure that he has everything he needs. I will continue to do that until the day I die.

There are so many things about me that people won't take the time to know, because I'm not "picture perfect". But you know what? I am my best version of myself, and that's all I want.

Stuff and things

It's been a long time since I've thought about killing myself.

Yeah, it's a sensitive topic. But be honest - how many of us have thought of it?

I used to drive down 11th Street, towards to water plant, and just think about not stopping... Just keep driving. Press on the gas, and keep going... Straight into the building. Would I die? Would I just hurt myself? What would happen?

For the first time in a long time, tonight, I thought about it. What would happen if I just kept going? Drive into oncoming traffic? Run into a building? Would I die? Would I just hurt myself?

I know I would never do it. I'm not a danger or anything. I love my boy too much.

But I wonder, if it weren't for him... Would I still be here?

Inspiration?

Good day, reader and non-readers alike.

It's been some time since I wrote anything of substance in here. Well, anything other than my depressing, useless shit. I'm so tired of that depressing, useless shit. A co-worker of mine recently started up a blog, and has inspired me to start mine up again.

I'm really not sure what I'll write about. Life. Love. Laughter. You know, the same shit everyone writes about. Do I have life advice to give? No. Am I an expert in anything at all? Nope. I'm not even an expert on the subject of me!

So I don't know. Maybe I'll write generic shit. Maybe I'll write about my love life... Or lack there of.

Which reminds me, speaking of lack of love life, I had a 22 year old message me on POF, said he was looking to chat with an older lady.

WHAT THE FUCK.

When did I become an "older lady"? Man. Did that shit ever make me feel like I hit rock bottom. Am I really a cougar now? Is that my life? Should I just find me some young piece of eye candy with mommy issues?

😂😂😂

Just kidding. I like my men tall, older, preferably with a beard, hilarious, opinionated, loving, brutally honest, independent, stubborn, and loyal. Is that too much to ask?

Okay. That's that for now. Bye!