Ctrl+Shift+Esc[ape]

There Were Words For This

Living with autism after the diagnosis has been… strange.

I still hesitate every time I say the word "autistic". There’s this voice in the back of my mind that says; "This is a trend" "No one is going to believe you" "You’ve made it this far" "Aren’t we all a little autistic?"

I still hesitate to really own this part of me because it still feels like society treats autism like it’s optional. Like it’s some sort of hat you have the choice to put on and take off depending on the day.

And in a way... I understand why people think that. Some of us become such good chameleons that it can seem like we aren't autistic at all. I've been able to function in society for thirty-five years, haven't I? I made it this far without a single person recognizing it. Without anyone putting words to it.

Yea I’ve gotten this far, but not particularly well.

I struggle more than most people know & most people I know. Maybe other people just don’t post about it? Maybe they don’t air their dirty laundry like I do? Maybe. But I can tell you that the level of distress I can experience over things that seem insignificant or minute to the general public has been astounding for as long as I can remember.

This didn’t suddenly appear after a diagnosis. It’s been here my entire life. Before the diagnosis. Before therapy. Before self-help books. Before adulthood. All I could understand was that I was… different.

I didn’t have words for the experience. Just— I’m different. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know how. I just was.

It started with hearing, “You’re weird.” A lot.

The level of excitement I’d have for something was too much. The amount of eye contact I’d make was too much or... not enough. My bluntness was too stark. My honesty was interpreted as rudeness. All the while, I genuinely couldn’t see what was wrong. I wasn’t trying to be offensive. I wasn’t trying to sound fake. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone’s feelings.

I just kept noticing that people were receiving something completely different from what I intended. It felt like there was a translator missing between my brain and everyone else’s.

Before the diagnosis, all I knew was that I struggled. I didn’t know why. But the feedback around me was almost always the same.

"You’re lazy."

"You should be able to do this."

"If you’re not doing it, you must not care enough."

It must be deliberate. A lack of interest. A lack of willingness. A lack of effort. Just… a lack. As though I could just decide to think differently and suddenly become capable.

In college, theatre school, I remember having days where I felt consumed by rage, irritability or complete mental exhaustion. I’d isolate myself (much like high school lunchtime where I'd hide in the bathrooms to eat alone). I’d hide behind the theatre curtains between classes and slept through a whole class (or two) because I was so impossibly tired I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

Again, it all amounted to laziness. Or not caring enough.

Definitely not the case... If anything I cared TOO MUCH that it would burn me right out.

I didn’t have the language to explain why I was the way I was, so I lost friendships, relationships, opportunities... When you don’t know why something is happening, it’s almost impossible to find solutions. At least not solutions that actually address what you need in order to sustainably succeed.

So I started asking questions. If no one could explain why I felt different, maybe I could figure it out myself. I started paying very close attention to behaviour. Not just my own, but everyone else’s. How are people affected by everyday life?

Why does this reaction happen? Why does that one? How do we all coexist in the same world when we’re all receiving the same information so differently? Observing became my kryptonite. Not only was it fascinating but it became necessary for survival.

It was both the question and the answer.

Everything became about interconnectedness. Patterns. Cause and effect. If I acted this way, I got this outcome. If I acted another way, I got another.

This outcome made me feel ashamed. That one made me feel steady. Noted.

Without realizing it, my life slowly became about preserving energy and making sure everyone around me felt comfortable enough that I could survive.

But more often than not, I didn’t have enough bandwidth to keep it up. So I chalked it up to…

"Maybe I’m just a bitch."

"Maybe that’s just who I am."

Now? I struggle the same. But I have words. I have explanations. I have reasons that finally make sense. That doesn’t mean I suddenly have all the answers.

I don’t.

It just means I can usually identify where the emotion is coming from or how I got there. Old habits die hard, though. I still go about life pretending I have it all figured out. The underlying effort of pushing through, fighting my own thoughts, regulating my emotions 80% of my day, managing my energy, trying to be “consistent”… it gets heavy.

Really heavy.

Because I don’t exactly walk around announcing every second day that; “today I’m struggling to be normal” Even though that's probably exactly what I need.

And I know even writing about being "normal" like I somehow wasn't is pretty harsh.

What I really mean is that there are days I simply cannot operate at the same pace, the same capacity, the same level of ease that seems to be expected.

Those are the days people don’t see. The days where every— single— task, feels like lifting something twice my size. The days where my nervous system waves the white flag while the front facing version of me keeps insisting we have things to do.

Sometimes it feels like I’m living two lives.

There’s the adult everyone sees, and then there’s the real version of me underneath it all. She often feels like just a child. A very vulnerable, fragile, innocent child.

The one who’s scared.

The one who’s overwhelmed.

The one who’s desperately trying to keep everyone happy while wondering why existing seems so much harder than it appears to be for everyone else.

Sometimes all she wants is permission to say…Today’s a hard day.

Today I don’t have enough energy.

Today I need a little more grace.

Consistency has become another interesting one. I always felt like consistency meant one hundred percent. Every single day. No exceptions. If someone tells me they expect consistency, my brain translates that into "perfection". You need to be this way all the time.

That’s not even human! Not for autistic people. Not for neurotypical people either. But my brain doesn’t naturally leave room for nuance. It’s incredibly literal. You said five o’clock? I’m expecting five o’clock.

Not 5:07.

Not “around five.”

Five.

Ironically, while my brain craves precision, I often struggle to produce it myself! My thoughts don’t move in straight lines — talk about hypocrisy. Trust me I'm as annoyed if not more about this than anyone else could be.

Logic, to me, often looks different than what other people call logical. I take the long way around, because that’s genuinely how my brain maps the world. I also want to do everything right. And “right” doesn’t just mean good enough. It means every detail. Every possibility. Every inch and every corner.

Which, ironically, often gets in the way of any real momentum or stops me from starting at all.

After my diagnosis, I can usually recognize when I'm "tisming." I know that's not the clinical term. It's a made-up verb, as if autism is something you do instead of something you are. But some days it really does feel that way. Some days I've masked so well that the "tisming" barely shows.

Sure, I can sometimes catch the spiral before it completely takes over. Sometimes; I can pause. Redirect and ask for grace. Remind myself that my nervous system is reacting before my logic has had a chance to catch up. But I haven’t gotten much farther than that. I’m still learning. And then some days I just can't. Today was one of those days.

One of those days where I’d been holding everything together so tightly, trying so hard to “adult” the way I think I’m supposed to, despite the fear and anxiety slowly building underneath, that eventually the whole thing came crashing down. There isn’t really any hiding in those moments.

And they’re not proud moments. They’re just…real.

The diagnosis didn’t erase the struggle. It also doesn't necessarily excuse it... It just gave the struggle a name. I don’t have the answers. I’m still figuring out what healthy actually looks like.

I’m still learning how to work with my brain instead of spending every ounce of energy trying to outrun it. I’m still unbecoming everything I thought I was. I’m still untangling years of believing I was lazy, difficult, dramatic or simply not trying hard enough.

And maybe that’s the real work. Not becoming someone new. Not fixing myself. Not finally learning how to be “normal.” Maybe it’s not about just trying harder.

PRT 2. 01. 01. 26

First day of the new year — 2026 — and here I am, two weeks into starting my 36th year around the sun. My entire body is buzzing with disbelief. Not the kind that veers in any real direction — just the kind that can’t quite comprehend how we got here.

Mid-30s? How!?

And what do I really have to show for it? Nothing really… at least nothing overly tangible. Not the kind of tangibility the Western world — or the regular folk — would relate to anyway.

Life looks nothing like what my 16-year-old self imagined. Good? Bad? Still deciding…

I definitely lived, however.

When I try to compare myself to anyone I went to high school with, I’m definitely the black sheep. They all have houses, have children, or are planning to. Married. Living the stable life I think I wanted — but definitely don’t have.

Good? Bad? Still deciding…

I’m sitting here at my window desk, looking at the last few rays of sunshine glistening on the fresh new blanket of snow covering the quiet world of January 1st. Chimneys are running, decorating the horizon with fog as it hits the cold winter air. I, unlike most of the world, spent the last night of 2025 alone — figuratively and relatively — homeless, planless, and single. Very single.

The only real comfort I could cuddle up to last night was my blonde mini poodle… and the knowing that I have an unwavering — stubborn as all hell — inner spark that I simply cannot get rid of.

Now, why is the latter a comfort, you might ask? Because it somewhat confirms I’ll live a very exciting life. The anxiety comes from not knowing how or when it’ll happen. That unshakeable urge just means I’m going to be wild and free — it doesn’t, however, guarantee a smooth ride.

I guess the unknown is what makes it interesting?

One thing I hadn’t overly considered was this whole thing not panning out at all. I had no real contingency plan. I never really stopped to ask myself: What happens if this doesn’t work out? I just figured the answers would present themselves when needed. That’s me — naïvely trusting the universe. Again.

I guess this is where the assumption that I’m up to some really stupid stuff comes in… valid.

Well, thank God it is panning out, I suppose. Because I really wasn’t going to entertain any alternatives, to be honest. I would’ve figured out a way to leave one way or another. Remember when I spoke about making myself a pretty solid promise that I would never work for anyone else again — ever?

Yeah… well, my entire body is taking that one pretty seriously.

I’ve felt physically ill at the thought of having to entertain a mundane, day-to-day, corporate, paycheck-to-paycheck, building-someone-else’s-empire type of money-making machine of a job. No thank you. I’d rather move off-grid and live as part of a commune…

The hamster wheel destroyed my soul — slowly and painfully, yet at lightning speed. I can’t entertain that life anymore. I want out of the Matrix. For my sanity.

So just like that… I’m going.

Thankfully, we’re following the original plan. I leave January 10th until February 1st. Then I’m heading to Vancouver to snag a few things from my storage — in case I end up spending more time in Canada during the coldest months of the year — and then back to Mexico. (Hopefully.)

The questions I’m constantly met with are:

– So it’s still happening? (their disbelief — yes ma’am, it is) – Are you excited!? (excitement seems to have taken a backseat to fear throughout this entire endeavour — but yes? I guess I am?) – Don’t you want to settle down? You’re 35!

Ah yes — the famous ticking time bomb.

Of course I want to settle down. But call me a dreamer… my version of settling down is unconventional. I refuse to believe that “settling down” needs to equate to shackles. I choose to believe that my forever person will be able to run just as wild as I can — or, at the very least, be steady enough to hold my wild. Unbothered. Secure. And thoroughly unafraid of a little distance every once and a while. Knowing that whatever I’m building, we’re ultimately building together, & vice versa.

That my dreams become his muse. He’s the doer. I’m the creator. We both crave & have a home base — but feel comfortable snowbirding freely, as needed. That our dreams aren’t too big if we do it together. Life, marriage, kids — let it all come as it may, never at the expense of our wild.

T-minus 10 days, and my wild will be free to live. I guess the rest is TBD.

I'm in my room, sitting on what used to be my sister's bed, back in Montreal. The late afternoon sun is peaking through the window — but given that it’s mid-November, I guess it’s technically dusk. It’s the last glimmer of sunshine before nightfall; sunset is at 3:30pm here, or something like that. The show “& Just Like That”, the Sex & the City sequel, is playing in the background (hence the inspiration for the very relevant title of this blog post). I was trying to work away at a Social Media Audit I volunteered to do — mostly to prove my capability and secure a potential client — but I couldn’t seem to stay focused.

All I could really muster up in my mind was: “How did we get here?”

Let’s rewind just a little bit.

Now that I’ve said that, I don’t even know where to start. I’ve had so much to say, so much on my mind — yet so little bandwidth to fathom putting it all on paper in one fell swoop. I guess my brain has decided it can’t hold the weight of it anymore.

Nearly to the day — 10 years later — I picked up everything I had, the life I’d built, sold it all, packed my car, and drove across the country. Eerily similar to the start of my journey when I was 24 years old. It’s no surprise that I hardly hesitated. Risk-taking and going all-in don't seem to make me flinch too much — even though they probably should?

I had a plan then, and I had a plan now. It was all going to be just fine! Right? Yet I’m always surprised when the plan doesn’t go, well… according to plan.

I had driven that drive three other times previously. It was hardly uncharted territory. Even now, three months in, I still can’t fully tell you what’s been the most destabilizing about this whole thing. Is it how quickly everything unraveled? Was it the two-week time span between getting laid off in July, my three-year on-again-off-again relationship ending, and making the official decision that I was never going to work for anyone else again — all while the offer that shifted everything came in what felt like the same breath?

The universe wasted no time with this one. I made real decisions for me, and then I was presented with what felt like the only real viable option for my soul. Nothing was really keeping me in Vancouver anymore. It felt like I’d come, experienced everything I needed to experience, and felt everything I needed to feel. So when every obstacle seemingly vanished, the offer to move to Mexico wasn’t one I felt I could logically say “no” to.

The only real question I could focus on — no matter the amount of fear coming up — was: “Why the hell not?”

Fear sure as hell wasn’t going to be the reason I didn’t at least try. I’d rather live with failure than regret. Or so I told myself at the time.

Or maybe it was the radical shift in what I’d come to know as “home,” “stability,” “success.” Am I more rattled by how fast I could dismantle the last ten years of my life… or by how I managed to blow up my entire life only to be left with the task of rebuilding it again with no real direction in sight?

I’m finding myself wading between what some consider extreme bravery and what others consider extreme stupidity. Again. I guess the truth depends on the day… or what angle you’re looking at it from.

The plan was simple: pack, leave, come home for a month or so, and then head to Mexico by early September. Some hiccups with logistics and due diligence came into play — but I wasn’t pressed. I wanted to take my time, make sure we were set up for success. Part of that success included me regulating my nervous system. Finding a steady place to call home in the meantime.

But the plan wasn’t panning out the way I’d imagined — even early on.

I’d also like to go on record: before all this, I had already been questioning whether leaving Vancouver and coming back to Montreal was something I should entertain more seriously. Let’s be clear — I didn’t absentmindedly make these decisions. I carefully weighed the alternative.

What I didn’t overly account for… was the possibility of this entire thing not panning out at all.

That, to me, wasn’t an option.

To Be Continued... xx

Flowers Need Time to Bloom

Monday, August 14 2023. 10:01 pm I'm at home, in my pjs, sitting on my patio. I've got slow piano ballades playing in the background & I'm surrounded by my battery operated candles. They light the mood quite nicely. Can I just rant or slightly complain about my ever chatty brain? in the midst between brain fog and forgetfulness, I'm sometimes met with the just-as-frustrating opposite - restlessness! So tonight I chose to turn my phone off! It was one of those nights. I needed the space to allow myself a solid evening to disconnect. I find it hard to disconnect when my notifications keep going off - even if I silenced my ringer; having the ability to (& knowledge of) makes it hard for me to willingly avoid checking in. So phone off it is.

No notifications; I sat outside on my rarely used patio to read. Oddly enough, whenever I feel like my brain's been operating at full capacity; watching tv becomes part of the problem. I think we call this state of mind - overstimulated. It's an unshakeable feeling of urgency - when in reality you don't have anywhere to be. A little like the unnerved feeling you forgot something when leaving the house. It's unsettling, uncomfortable and makes you feel like you can't quite calm your antsy brain down. Your thoughts are running a million miles per minute. You're endlessly making mental lists of all the things you should do, have to do, and want to do (none of which have anything to do with one another).

ONE THING AT A TIME! I try to remind myself.... (Doesn't overly change much though)... As I'm reading about self-sabotage and how to overcome, I'm finding myself overthinking on all the endeavours I have my eyes and heart set on. I'm catching myself re-reading the same paragraph over and over because I'm not retaining any information.

I'd like to write a book. I've said I've wanted to write a book since I was 17 years old. In fact I had started one but as I wrote the first 5 pages I got confused as to how I would separate the topics into chapters and/or how to jump from one idea to the next. I basically, didn't know what I was doing. This is how I decide to start my blog. I figured; writing shorter, more accurate play-by-plays of my life, would give me the practise & confidence I eventually would need, to take on an entire book. Here we are, close to 10 years later, still slightly confused as to how I'm going to tackle the process, but I'm ready. My skills, my mindset & my philosophies are ready. Why am I blabbing on Tumblr right now, instead of reading my self-sabotage book? Well first off; like I said, my mind won't shut up. I've always said to put pen to paper when that happens. Purge the mind, by writing it all down. Get it out. So I'm getting it all out... I also figured, I haven't written a blog-post in god knows how long.... So what the heck - kill two birds with one stone (someone really needs to find a better, less gnarly expression...) But here I am, writing. Writing everything and anything that's been trolling my mind.

Here's another thing; I've been thinking and researching the processes of starting different businesses lately. industries ranging from real-estate development, investment, flipping, finance & wealth building, e-commerce, retail and more. The more I've been digging the more I'm realizing I know very little about a lot! I'm feeling oddly claustrophobic when facing this reality. Like I'm just this tiny human in this big ass world I know barely anything about. The vastness of the world's information and the ease of access we now have to it all, is utterly overwhelming to me. I feel such a pressure to reach for it all and soak it all in. The thought of me not being able to know everything there needs to be known about a subject - stresses me right out!

Weird! I KNOW! But, umm, Reality Check Veronica! EARTH TO VERONICA. Yes we live in a blackhole of information - no you don't know everything. You can't know everything and you won't ever know everything... ( The sound of a thought process I don't overly want to jam with. Hence the unshakable sense of urgency...)

So now what? What do I do with the the knowledge that I in fact don't know very much at all !?

Here's a fun idea; I'll start working on my book. Without a clue where to start - I'm just going to start and I'm going to keep learning I guess. And forever will be.

I'll leave you with this thought: What if our purpose on this earth and in this world is to learn? To merely get wiser as the minutes, hours and years go by? What if our entire human premise, is to be humble enough to admit we know nothing at all and curious enough to dig for answers? And then? Compassionate enough to share the experience with loved ones. Now if only we can learn to relax and ease into the process of learning. If we could only learn to love the journey, grow by grace. and on that I will continue to work on easing into the unknown amid the chaos of my mind & the world around me.

I wish for you the same <3

Matters of the Heart

Wow. it's been a while since I've sat here to pour my heart down in writing... I guess tonight I wanted to let the feels out.

I've kept a lot to myself these last few years. I used to come here and share everything I was living to a T. It was entertainment for you but therapeutic for me. I'm not sure what happened. I guess somewhere along the way, I decided that not everything was meant to be shared... Somewhere along the way I decided to hide myself.

Gosh, so much has changed since the last time I wrote, I'm not even entirely sure where to start. Also, did I ever use this title on any other entries? I honestly can't remember. January 16th 2022, 31 years of age, sitting at my kitchen Island with indie tunes playing in the background and a eucalyptus candle burning with a mug of water staring at me, reminding me I never drink enough water!... I'm single, living on my own, across the country. Away from my family, going to school full time for interior design as of the beginning of this month. A full career change, this comes six months after my split from my relationship & five months since my move out of what I thought was going to be my forever home. Not necessarily the house itself; but the situation. The foundation I'd spent the last 3 years building with this person. The foundation WE'D spent the last 3 years building together. Our relationship was not easy... We differed in many ways. He triggered parts of me I wish I’d known how to manage prior to our relationship. He triggered feelings I wish I'd outgrown, long before we moved in together... And unfortunately I triggered him in ways he wasn't ready to cope with. He was everything I ever wanted. Everything I wanted to - one day - be. When I spend time envisioning my future, I see myself with someone with his qualities. I see his stability. I see his maturity. I see his kindness. I see his success - our success. Maybe he's not the one, or ever was, but he definitely showed me what I want the one to be like. Perhaps As Carrie Bradshaw said; "I'd outgrown the boys of my past, and not quite grown into the men of my future."

It was an interesting chapter of my life, there's no doubt about it. I thought it was going to be more than just a chapter, but looks like the book is still being written... I'm not sure where my story is about to go - or is meant to go, but Im hopeful. The hope comes from doing things for me. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't scary. It hasn't been an easy transition. The hurt and disappointment of another failed relationship has really left an impression this time. It's not an easy thing to come to terms with. But I'm moving forward, one day at a time, and yes, i am— doing things for me. I'm tackling school on my own. I'm making future plans to build the life I've always wanted, on my own. It's all so overwhelming; being single again at thirty, when you were so close to having the family and the life you'd been working so hard to have & to keep. Not to mention taking on one of the biggest endeavours of my life. To be honest, I still don't fully understand how I'm doing it all... I just am.

I've recently realized that this is my first time living on my own since I moved across the country. In six years, I've never been without anyone, whether a boyfriend or a friend. What a shock it was to have that realization. Even though I've had my fair share of cross country escapades, I always had someone by my side. For this very reason; it's been a layered transition. It holds a significant meaning, especially since everything leading up to this point was a butterfly effect caused by my 2014 heartache. It's been quite the wild ride ever since.

I can’t help but wonder; Is this chapter, the one where I finally come to terms with it all? Is this chapter, the finale? Is it both the beginning of the end and the end to start a new beginning? I guess we'll find out together, won't we? It's been hard to remember how consistently powerful my ability to manifest the things I want has been. I keep forgetting how strong my will to make things happen really is. If I've manifested everything I have or ever did have, I can surely do it again. The universe — God — really does have my back so I need to stop doubting. I need to trust I'll end up where I'm not only meant to but want to!

One foot in front of the other. Working through every piece of history that's being shed. This is a growth season. A season where the caterpillar retreats into its own to die and evaporate. A season to be morphed into a new version - a more majestic version - of herself. Growing pains are real. I can however, see the beauty of everything I'm growing through. As scary and as uncertain as everything is, I'm so proud of myself for doing it. For having come this far. Sometimes I'm so grateful to be where I am, and becoming who I'm becoming; that I weep just the same. My heart knows; it knows what needs to be done. It knows what it wants - its so deeply conscious of what it desires, that there's really nothing that can shake its trajectory. There can be detours but my destination is inevitable. When it comes to matters of the heart; it's never straightforward. We pursue, we fight, we shed, we grow, we start anew and we repeat. It's a whirlwind of emotions and some a little less comfortable than others. But I'm learning to trust the process nonetheless. I'm learning to trust my will to pursue my truth endlessly and courageously. I'm meant for big things, I know this, and won't reach them by avoiding uncomfortable seasons, that's for sure. So here we are, alone on a Sunday night, reminiscing on everything that's led me to this moment. Crying, laughing & crying some more. But being oh so damn proud of it all, weeping that I get to try again and keep going. This time, stronger than ever - on my own.

It Takes 2 to tango

Hi! 

It’s been a while since I sat down to write. Between Instagram & the now Podcast (Not Here To Hide) I found it to be a lot of sharing... I didn’t think I needed to spiel on here as much as I used to. (let’s keep the spam down to a minimum amiright?) I’ve been sharing most of my daily thoughts on Instagram. But today, my topic was just too long. I felt it deserved to be as long as it needed to be. This topic is dear to my heart. If you know me, you know that I’m someone who loves; love. You’d also know that I’m someone who’s devoted to working through her own shit and making sure I level up in life. 

So today I want to chat about Relationships. It’s a big one for me. Relationships have always shaped me into new versions of myself. They allow me to grow and they hold a mirror to the parts of me that still need some TLC. But I don’t want to talk about just any kind of relationship, I’m specifically targeting; Conscious Relationships.

Let’s just come out and say it: Conscious relationships are hard.

I also don’t doubt it being a foreign concept to most people. Since most of us were never taught how to effectively communicate our needs, makes it even harder.

This is the Direct definition:

“A conscious relationship is a relationship that's created purposefully, decisively, and with intention. It requires clarity and choice around how you want your relationship to feel, how you like to love and be loved, and what your boundaries and non-negotiables are.”

Ultimately, it takes extreme self-awareness. Something that doesn’t come naturally. It takes curiosity, self-reflection & commitment to achieve. It’s hard to find because both individuals would need to either come into it with prior knowledge of it or be willing & committed to growing along the way.

In a Macho world; where men are men. Tough, strong and bullied by buddies if they talk about their feelings and women are supposed to be nice, smile and be sweet without any baggage — conscious relationships disrupt the programming. We disrupt the status quo by waking up and speaking up when we’re otherwise systematically trained to keep things surfaced. Practicing this type of deepness isn’t for the faint of hearts, let me tell ya!...

But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Learning to live with another human who gets you for you. A partner who understands your deepest, most raw vulnerabilities and who says I’m here to heal with you & to grow with you — is a level of connection most people don’t get to experience. There’s nothing more safe & satisfying than for 2 people to have the freedom to be in their entirety but also hold each other accountable to a better, more fulfilling life.

The misunderstanding is that this kind of connection should happen easily: outgrowing bad habits, showing up when you feel like being defensive, taking the time to understand when you otherwise want to be selfish, taking feedback that isn’t pleasant to hear but so necessary, listening to your partners needs even if maybe they don’t involve you — are all things that are uncomfortable to either witness or bear. They’re tough conversations. They require maturity & tons of patience. Hard doesn’t mean wrong and it definitely doesn’t mean; not worth it.

Hard means out of practice. There are some quirks to work through and more bumps along the road than if it had been two people experienced with practicing conscious relationships for decades. Hard isn’t impossible unless you want it to be.

Impossible happens when one or both, give up. When the will to grow and the commitment to getting curious with one another no longer exists. This is when impossible happens.

Hard means we’re growing. Hard means we’re having the tough conversations. And on the flip side — Easy doesn’t necessarily mean good or even balanced... I’ve always been weary of relationships that are “easy going”.

I always feel like asking : what’s missing in your relationship? I know I’ll trigger some people here; rightfully so! We work really hard to save face. To keep everything together by avoiding anything that could possibly rock the boat. But I’m okay with asking the tough questions. I’m okay with making you think... So what needs haven’t you expressed to your partner? What feedback haven’t you given? What are you keeping to yourself that is eating you up inside? Are you being honest, real, and challenging one another? Or are you just settling to avoid confrontation?

Avoiding confrontation to me, is a roundabout way of giving up. It’s a coward response. It does not fix or change the situation — it only deflects conversation and successfully delays the inevitable. Which is misleading. This is how you end up one day, waking up to a partner you don’t recognize.

Conscious relationships absolutely do not mean : let me drag you through the mud with my shit and you better be able to handle it (although sometimes it can definitely feel that way when you’re in the midst of expression, before you reach a point of understanding the others point of view!) But there’s tactful ways to communicate. Respectful ways to communicate. Conscious relationships are the commitment to growing the awareness of ourSELF and how we can better show up — with a never ending craving for a deeper, more vulnerable connection. It’s a practice. A messy one but a practice nonetheless — which means it isn’t perfect.

Navigating an unpaved road can be bumpy, but the views at the top are sure to be breathtaking. There’s accomplishment waiting for the devoted. As long as both deeply love each other, abundantly respect one another & stay committed to getting curious about their partner enough to walk through life side by side — the journey will most definitely be worth it.

Don’t be afraid to have the convos — don’t be afraid to take up space — don’t be afraid of the bumps — get curious — try to understand, go deeper and when all else fails, try again. Together.

Until next time

Do Your Part

When in a relationship — What does; INDIVIDUAL WORK look like?

Part of the “emotional closet cleaning” I’ve taken on — is recognizing / understanding / facing — my triggers & my unhealthy patterns. Basically, observing how I show up in life AND in my relationship.

My romantic relationships have always been a major priority. How to grow a healthy partnership — has always been a captivating subject for research. It’s a hard wave to ride, the one between individuality and duality.

It’s a balance between healthy togetherness as well as a healthy separateness. A relationship that thrives instead of plateau’s. Emotional ruts slash relationship ruts? Aren’t. My. Jam. The tricky part is — remembering to do the work. It’s too easy to think we’re set for life and let ourselves go. So we allow our relationship to ride on auto-pilot. Only to realize we’ve ended up in a ditch... No Thanks. So what does it really take to make sure you never end up there?

Yes, you have to pick the right partner to grow with, where ease is of the essence. But “Easy” — isn’t always a quality that’s healthy or even real. It can mean avoidance or simply lacking genuineness. Practicing vulnerability, rawness, and simply taking ownership for your own bullshit — ISN’T EASY. In fact, it’s anything but! It’s messy, it’s unorganized, it’s unknown, it’s not cute. So the sooner we move away from associating what it means to have a healthy relationship with the ideology of it being “easy” the better off we’ll be... Relationships take work, they aren’t effortless... at least, not if you’re looking for one that thrives...

Good news though, most of the work actually lies within yourself. See; if BOTH partners put in the same amount of effort in doing their INDIVIDUAL WORK as in; making sure you ask for what you need, making sure you acknowledge what you could’ve done differently, keeping yourself healthy both mentally AND physically, making sure you show your love & appreciation for the other person with tangible actions — prevents one individual from compensating for the other. You’ll both play equal parts in having each other’s back. Therefore, the “Couple work” simultaneously happens, by default... I guess this is the kind of ease you should be looking for.

Learning your partners quirky corners and differences isn’t a bad thing. They may need; more alone time, more words of affirmation, more quality time, more sleep than you, more food than you. You’re both different and that’s OK! Recognizing the differences should give you a better understanding as to how you can support them — vice versa.

It just calls for a little adaptation on your part. For example; I’m learning that my partner may need more “Me” time of his own to recoup, which means I have to practice a healthier separateness. Making more plans with my friends, can’t be a bad thing! Seeking to fulfill certain needs outside your relationship can be extremely cathartic if you let it. It could remove the pressure of having them feel like they’re your be all end all.

My individual work dives deep into facing my shadows & abandonment traumas from my past. This AIN’T easy! If you know, you know. Through it all, I have to learn to take accountability and responsibility for how I show up in my relationship. I have to learn to quit being so reactive and find a way to tap into my vulnerability. To ask for what I need from a place of love, not resentment. To express my feelings without; blaming, judging, or simply avoiding any of it. It’s a challenge.

But it’s not impossible. It takes courage. LOTS OF IT. To shed your own bad habits and to acknowledge the part you play in your relationship, asks for a no bullshit approach. Showing up fully even when we don’t want to, even when things seem harder than they should be. Even when we feel like shutting down. Takes commitment — the will to put in the effort. From both people!

It’s also important to remember — nothing is permanent, just because someone needs more of something right now doesn’t mean it’s forever. Life asks us to adapt and change along with the circumstances that come with it. The good thing about open communication, is that it allows you to re-evaluate your partnership whenever you need to. Allowing a healthy Ebb & Flow while committing to do the work will propel your relationship to new heights. Gua-ran-teed!

Just takes work. Working towards getting to a place where you both hold each other accountable for the commitments you’ve made. Both individually and in duality. A place where you can equally lean on each other for support & feedback is welcome. Where you both show vulnerability while committing to showing up the way your partner needs. AND TO LOVE THEM THE WAY THEY WANT TO FEEL LOVED — THIS is what it looks like! — imperfect & messy BUT real & worth it.

REMEMBER : to forgive yourself and / or your partner for any kind of missed opportunity. It’s an imperfect world and it’s okay to screw up every once in a while (as long as you get back up and try again).

Home Surgery

House renovations not only feel like a bomb went off in your home but a bomb went off in your head too. It’s like the Hunger Games in a relationship. Good luck, may the strongest couple win… 

Hello fam,

long time no talk (unless you’ve been following along on the ol’insta stories).
Even then, I haven’t been keeping up as often as I used to (Sorry bout it?). So let me bring you up to date on everything and all that is Veronica & her shenanigans…

We moved into our home last April which is now, 7 months ago! We’re still knee deep in renovations. Surprised? I’m not! Who am I kidding…yes I am… I mean I was hoping we would’ve been done by now (epic wishful thinking on my part). Things have moved slowly since April.

It’s to be expected I suppose, I hadn’t really spent any consecutive time at home before June. Once I got back, I was exhausted and didn’t feel like taking on any huge projects. I’d worked full time on set for over 10 months followed by months on end of travelling. I was craving some stand-still time. I wanted to enjoy my summer and not be a slave to home renovations. In lieu of my laziness we chipped away at projects only on weekends. At first, my boyfriend was the one trying to kick me in the ass to buckle down and get the work done. Fast forward 4 months later – here I am, getting impatient so I’m doing the kicking of the ass…

Going into this, I kept saying that I’d be fine gutting a place to its bones – that I’d done this kind of thing before and the mess didn’t scare me. Which is fact, but what I’d ignored was my need to have a home – a sanctuary – a safe haven. I didn’t realize a gutted house meant a gutted sanctuary. Going into this, I also kept saying ; I need a place to call home. So I’m not sure what I was expecting… maybe I expected things to magically get done on their own, or somehow still have a livable space in the midst of dust and chaos?! How could I’ve missed this? I am not sure…

Everything happened so fast, we’d been casually house hunting for a few months when we discovered what would be our future home. We didn’t think too much of it until the idea of owning it slowly crept in. In fact, at first the house gave me a weird vibe. Something didn’t flow but I was determined to find out what… We agreed to go for a second viewing, at this point we were already talking about our demolition plans. Next thing you know; we put in an offer, we negotiated and closed — It’s ours!

We knew right away we wanted to update the two upstairs bathrooms (they haven’t been touched since the 70′s). Painting was a non-negotiable. We also played with the idea of blowing out the entrance wall to open the space up. Also, the mudroom slash laundry room could use a face-lift. The master bedroom lacked closet space and bathroom space. Needless to say, we had to get creative with the designs to maximize every inch of this place and I’d be lying if I said we had it all figured out. You get the point; the list of projects is never ending.

We tackled the main living areas first. While I was away my boyfriend started by removing the popcorn ceiling in the main living room. This was our first setback. It took weeks to properly remove it all, then, weeks to properly sand & paint. Soon after we decided to demolish the entrance wall (best decision ever). Later we painted the whole main floor… Never underestimate how much painting can do to a space – also, never underestimate how long painting with a roller can take…

Now that we were knee deep in our reno’s, we decided to make our lives even harder by redoing the floors in all main living spaces; main living room, kitchen and TV room. 

The current floor is acacia hardwood flooring. A color that is now outdated, with plank sizes that are also outdated. The lower TV room is covered in a light beige carpet but also has a backyard access. Oh & the hardwood? Scratched to shit. There isn’t one ounce of flooring that isn’t damaged. So here were my thoughts; Why have carpet in a room where you’d be accessing the outside from? If our floors are already damaged & outdated how would that affect us in the long run, for resale value? So first, I tried to match the TV room floor to the acacia wood… Once we started digging to find a matching floor we quickly realized we were most likely never going to be able to match it. Like a salesman once told me “you’re chasing a leprechaun”. Cool cool cool cool…So cool. It would never be a perfect match, in other words — it would be noticeably different. Uh, No. I’m not okay with that. There’s nothing more frustrating and disorienting than walking into a home that lacks cohesiveness. We toyed with the idea of sanding and restaining, until we found out it would cost more than replacing the whole floor.

Thanks to my Design firm, I’ve got access to flooring I otherwise wouldn’t have found on my own. I was suggested an alternative type of flooring that is in theory a Vinyl plank, but in reality, is its own type called SPC flooring (stone plastic composite). It looks and feels like wood. It has no expansion or contraction since its made of stone & plastic. It’s waterproof and highly scratch resistant. This sounds like the perfect floor for a home that would resell to a young family with tons of kids and dogs that may ruin a beautiful hardwood. Want proof? come over and look at ours.

The tricky thing about this flooring is that the planks are quite thin. It offers little to no flexibility, so your subfloor needs to be leveled near perfect to prevent any cracking… In a high-rise or newer house this is easier to accomplish. In a 70′s home where the foundation can and most probably is uneven, not so much. Our challenge was to find the right installer who knew this floor, who’s worked with it before and who understands the leveling specs. We interviewed 3 or 4 installers, one of which was convinced he could not only match our existing floor (ya! right!) but could also sand and restain it a different color. Which fyi, I’d been repeatedly told would be close to impossible to do with acacia…?!… A risk I wasn’t necessarily willing to take. Especially if it’d cost more than installing a brand new – scratch resistant – waterproof flooring! The other installers came in really confident about having worked with the floor before until I started asking questions… Slowly they started hesitating & pulled back from wanting to level our floor. I lost interest in hiring them 1- I couldn’t understand the words that were coming out of their mouths and 2- if there was any chance that they were talking themselves up only to make a quick buck, when in reality they know jack squat about this floor & risk damaging it – That’s gonna be a hard no from me… At this point I was losing interest in the whole ordeal. Let’s keep our damaged floors and move on! Losing hope over here! Just let me buy a couch already!

Let’s back up for a second… All the while this is happening, keep in mind, our house is not furnished. Decorations (the ones we have) are put away. Walls are bare, clothes aren’t put away. It’s a total dissaray. Well maybe dissaray isn’t the right word, but it’s a tiny shit show & it’s getting old.

We couldn’t do anything else until the floor situation was dealt with. Finishing the second coat of paint is now on hold, since installing the floors might damage the walls, we might have to repaint everything anyway. You wouldn’t catch me repainting 1200 sq ft with rollers A THIRD TIME! No way Jose.

Since everything else was on hold. I wanted to start the master bedroom project right away instead of waiting until spring like we’d originally planned. Let’s at least get one room over with, my gosh! So we decided to take the closet project head on and not look back. Our plan was to finish it the weekend we started. Wrong! say hello to our second setback. We are now 3 weeks later and we’re still working on the bedroom. Don’t get me wrong, we got 75% done on that weekend, but we encountered technical difficulties that have lingered since then, including the purge of my closet and organizing it all… this is a project in itself. One that may or may not take just as long as painting a whole house by hand…

The room is essentially done, I’m hoping we can officially wipe our hands clean from the renovations of this bedroom by this weekend and get started on the decorations! 

They say you find what you’re looking for when you stop looking — once we stopped looking for floor installers, we finally got a hold of the supplier who’d recommended someone they’d worked with before. Hallelujah! He was easy to communicate with & he agreed to come over that weekend to give us an estimate. I tried not to get my hopes up, for all I knew we may have invited an overrated installer into our house just to tease ourselves…

Once we met, it was clear we all got along great. He’s clearly worked with the floor before and I knew this because he answered questions I didn’t even get a chance to ask. He knew the specs and explained the process without being dodgy. That’s our guy, I don’t care how much he costs hire the guy! We all know my boyfriend put a stop to that real quick — we stick to the budget, he said. So here I was, crossing my fingers to death. He sent us his estimate the next day and it was within our budget!

YUUSSSSS!!! We finally found our guy, This is so exciting! We have a bit of prep work to do before they come to install, but for the first time in months it feels like the work we’re doing is going somewhere! Floors will be installed by the first week of December!

The best news of all; phase 1 is almost complete! That’s right, we decided to do our renovations in phases. Because we need a break y’all! We will hibernate through winter and get back to it in spring…We will focus on the fun stuff over the winter, like beautifying our home. The rest of the renovations like the mudroom and bathrooms can thankfully be quarantined so we don’t have to look or live in a hot mess for months on end! Home stretch folks! One more month and we can relax for a while.

We have a few fun trips planned over the holidays. We booked a mini getaway in a cabin on Galiano Island, at Bodega Cove, at the end of December (board games for days!). Saying we’re excited is an understatement. We will be hosting a House warming holiday cocktail party right before new years, then, we will head to Victoria to ring in the new year in style! We’ve got a good few months ahead & I’m damn well looking forward to it!

We shed blood, sweat & tears over the last 7 months. I’m not lying when I say it’s been a process, (now that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel) I can finally start to appreciate the journey! 

I’ll keep you posted on all the progress, dontcha worry!

Notes to remember from a fellow renovator to you:

* If you’re doing major renovations or are thinking of renovating - try to do it before you move in. Renovations are stressful enough as it is, there’s no need to add stress by living in the mess. So if you can avoid it, I recommend it.

* Renovating can and most probably will stress you out – healthy lifestyle habits like eating properly, exercising and proper sleep patterns will do wonders. Don’t give up on yourself.

* Try to remember that it’s temporary and keep in mind things will get worse before they get better (yes you read that right... It’s something I somehow didn’t realize). It’s only part of the process. Keep your eye on the prize! If you’re having trouble visualizing it with the walls gutted, create a vision board and put it up in a space where you can see it clearly and daily.

* If things get too intense, walk away from it and go do something that will reward you emotionally. Self-Care is knowing when to walk away. 

* When taking on a renovation project as a couple, it’s an added pressure to the relationship. Relationships are already a lot of work as it is; worrying about work - day to day responsibilities - and having to take care of your family life (if you have kids). Adding renovations to the mix can make you feel overwhelmed. Your schedules will be overflowing with To Do lists – but remember that romance also needs to be a priority. Date nights & relationship time needs to be allocated. Set aside some time to focus on watering the relationship. You’ll need it. Don’t let the To Do lists come between you two. The lists will always be there, time together is precious.

* most of all – try and have fun! (taking my own advice on this one!)

Wrinkles & Fine Lines

Article written by Veronica Bretton

Insta : @veronicabretton

Published by Rizing Magazine

Dear Self

Article written by Veronica Bretton

Insta: @veronicabretton

Published by Rizing Magazine

She’s In Choice

Article written by Veronica Bretton

(insta: @veronicabretton)

Solitary Confinement : Living with an Anxious Mind

"Fear is inevitable, I have to accept that, but I cannot allow it to paralyze me." - Isabel Allende

Hi there, 

I know, it’s been months since I’ve checked in. I’ve been busy with life. There’s been a list of overwhelming changes this past year. I know I keep coming back to this (if you’ve been following along on Instagram, you know.) - but the collateral damage is still passing through. Or maybe I've neglected myself the space to feel it out as it was happening. Maybe everything is catching up to me now. Looking back though, I haven’t really given myself permission to live through it. I think if I had, I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish everything I did. I couldn’t stop, I had to keep going, keep working. Or maybe I did deal with it but it just takes me longer to deal with things than most... Who knows, hard to say...

In the last 10 months, I’ve gone through a separation. I’ve started a new relationship, I’ve moved out from my apartment and into a house. It’s been one of the best years of my life. I’ve been overwhelmingly happy, but I’ve also, simultaneously - been caught up in a wave of anxiety. 

Disclaimer: I’m writing today, partly to give an update, but mostly to write for myself. I haven’t sat down to let everything out in a while. Though, I haven’t prepared what I was going to write, I’m kind of just letting it flow. Seeing what comes out... 

I want to talk about my state of mind, my anxiety and what it’s felt like for me the past few months. This is a scary topic for me only because I don’t fully understand it. How can I explain what I’ve been going through and expect you to get it, if I don’t necessarily understand it myself?! So, talking about it feels risky. I’m afraid that you’ll judge me, I’m afraid to be misunderstood. But I can’t let that get in the way - so here I am.  The past month and a bit I’ve really noticed my mind going on a downward spiral. It’s showing up as edginess, restlessness. I’m taking life way too seriously... 

I can’t seem to quiet my mind - I’m also fighting off a ton of irrational fears that I can’t seem to shake. I’m having trouble living in the moment. I’m having trouble feeling light and inspired like I know I can. Red flags...

I’m trying really hard not to judge myself ... “Snap out of it”, “Stop being so negative”, “Lighten up - relax - chill - why are you freaking out”, “Why am I such a pain in the ass”.... Words I’m fighting off everyday - but it’s hard. Being hard on myself is probably the worst thing I can do... I think this is the only reason why I’ve somewhat stayed afloat - because I’m aware that I’m possibly going through...I hate to say it but a wave of depression. I haven’t drowned yet, probably because I work really hard to give myself the space to ride the wave out... as hard as that is.

Ugh.. I hate using that word...Depression...a word that is epically misunderstood. I’m border line ashamed of admitting to this part of me - because I feel like people are afraid of it. I’m scared of being abandoned by the people I love because they won’t understand me. Are they going to leave because I’m too hard to deal with? (Possibly an irrational fear of mine - but hard to say) Some people do leave when they loose patience and run out of ideas on how to deal with someone coping with this. To be honest, I can’t even blame them. I live with it and I don’t even fully understand what to do about it, how can I expect anyone else to know... All I know is that I can’t get down on myself about it - I can’t start undermining my experience. I can’t call myself crazy, hard to deal with or negative - because even though they’re technically a side effect of depression - these are temporary ways of being. They’re not who I am at the core. I have to know that. As long as I’m aware of my condition I can decide to do something about it. As long as I’m gentle with myself I can create a safe space for this to express itself without getting lost or digging myself a deeper hole of shame.

Living with an anxious mind feels like solitary confinement; it’s confusing, lonely and exhausting. Depression and anxiety isn’t an easy concept to understand. It shows up differently for everyone. For me, it doesn’t show up like sadness - there isn’t one specific incident that created an emotional response. It creeps in without a clear trigger. It sets in after a series of events and becomes a mindset. It creeps in slowly, one thought at a time, without showing red flags until it settled it comfortably. Sometimes paralyzing all my motivation with irrational fears. It speaks to me in a slow but hurtful voice convincing me that I’m better off isolating myself to not be a burden to others. It becomes hard to differentiate reality from my stories. An anxious mind is the ultimate battle; Self vs. Self. It feels like there’s no escape and that can be enough to create a panic.  I live with a constant fear of not being enough. Fear that I won’t accomplish whatever I set my mind to. Fear of loosing those I love. I’m paralyzed with fear to the point of convincing myself that the worst is about to happen. My body reacts by permanently staying in a fight or flight mode. Ready and reacting to imaginary threats... I get caught up in the “What Ifs” and forget to live in the moment. This next statement is the one that feels the most vulnerable of all - I have trouble admitting to it all - because I’m afraid it makes me unlovable.

I feel such a pressure to get my shit together and “Get Better”, that if I can’t “fix” myself any time soon I’ll end up alone. Thing is, if I don’t know the cause I can’t necessarily treat it, so I feel stuck and then I panic.

Will you have patience to walk by my side while I try to figure this out? 

The one thing that I need to remind myself and for you to keep in mind is that it doesn’t come with an off switch, unfortunately. Going to seek medical help also doesn’t sound like a long term, sustainable, solution for me either. which means, it’s bound to be a tedious process that requires a ton of patience. I’ve witnessed close family members & friends who’ve resulted to different kinds of addictions whether it be drugs, anti-depressants or alcohol. I don’t love that for me so I want to stay away from “fixing” the issue with any outside influences other than my pure will to do the work myself.

I truly believe there’s a way to navigate the inner workings of our mind in order to reroute our thoughts. 

...It sure as hell isn’t the easy way out! & It sure as hell, isn’t going to happen overnight either. 

But I believe that I can get to know myself enough to know how to take care of my body, mind & soul. You need to listen to yourself. I have & I’ve noticed my symptoms getting worse when I think unthinkable thoughts. I’ve noticed my stories get out of hand when I get caught in a string of irrational thoughts that trigger my fears. If I can learn to intercept my thoughts, and find a way to create a road map to a happy and healthy mind - I know I can “snap myself out of it”. I just have to do the work. 

Suicide for me is; battling with this in silence. I can’t let the shame of living with this get in the way of my connection to those I love, in fear of loosing them. I need to be honest and open myself up for the possibility of being truly seen. Even if it’s uncomfortable. I need to realize that If I’m abandoned based on this less than fortunate reality of mine - than whoever leaves probably never deserved me at my best.

I’m a strong believer that if you learn and are willing to stay honest - take responsibility for your actions and are willing to work on yourself and do your very best, then you can’t be to blame for someone else’s decision to leave... (as petrifying as that is). As long as you’re genuine and try your best - then you can rest assured that you’ve done all that you could. The rest really is out of your control and isn’t by any means - a reflection of who you are as a person. The shame tends to take a backseat when you expose your own secrets. No one can hold it against you, no one can make you feel bad for being honest and vulnerable. If they do, they’re the asshole, not you. Putting your self out there, creates space for you to ask for what you need. It allows others to be responsible for their choice to stick around or not. Which removes the burden from your shoulders to feel like you’ve secretly pushed them away. You’ve given them the opportunity to make that decision for themselves. Which says everything about them and nothing about you. You allow for yourself to be seen and say “hey, this is me, I’m not perfect, I’m flawed, honest and in a vulnerable state but I’m working on me. Are you ready to walk with me?” There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. I need to remember that. 

I’m not quite sure why anxiety shows up when it does. Or why it even shows up at all when I have so much to be thankful for. It really has nothing to do with how well things are going... I think that’s why it’s such a hard phenomenon to understand. I can be overwhelmed with gratitude and still experience a depression - without any given notice. I think the trick is - to not focus on the parts of me that I’m a little ashamed of, it’s to notice they’re there, learn to accept them and keep trying to move forward anyway. Chasing what sets my soul on fire. To keep creating the life I dream of. To try and let go of the “How” and focus on the “Why”. 

I’m not quite sure how I’ll realign myself, or how long this little phase will last. But I’m committed to start over and try as often as it takes to live my best life. 

Trial and error is part of life. Living with an anxious mind is part of mine. I can’t change the wave but I can learn to surf it... <3 .

It’s a Hiccup not a Setback.

It’s a Blessing in disguise.

Hi, long time no talk... As promised here is a little update / check up.

If you’re new here, welcome. This is a space where I unload my little heart and brain. I haven’t popped on here, in a few months. Ever since I released my last blogpost in November.

There’s a few reasons why; for one - I was wrapped up in full time work on set. I was dealing with a split. The start of a new relationship. Basically I needed every ounce of my attention and concentration to be focused on ME. I’ve slowed down the creative projects, social media, you name it, I slowed it all down. It was needed.

Working full time on film sets is physically and mentally demanding - working such long hours full time doesn’t leave much time to do much else let alone have enough time to sleep.

On top of that - dealing with a break up AND the start of a new relationship took every last bit of myself and time I had.  The split:

It took a long time for the split to be finalized. It took me a long time to be ready and clear about my boundaries and what I would and wouldn’t stand for. Once I made my decision - splitting our belongings took months due to scheduling reasons. Our separation is now official with no more strings attached - belongings split and all. So now I have a little more room in my heart for my new and growing relationship. 

My new relationship:

All I can say for now is that it feels right.

We were off to an amazing start until my previous relationship came back into the picture. We inevitably slowed things down - but we never ended. As time progressed, I was realizing what I actually wanted and needed in my relationships. My past relationship simply wasn’t aligned with my values and vision. I needed to respect my boundaries and this new relationship gave me everything I currently sought out. So as time went along, as my split was becoming more concrete and dealt with - the more room I had to give to this new flame. Safe to say that we’ve entered a new realm of possibilities and commitment now that my past is in the past. If there’s one thing I’m grateful for here, is the patience we both showed during this transition time, and the support he showed me when times got a little more overwhelming than I anticipated. I’m looking forward to building a strong supportive bond with this human being!  Work:

Well.... this is the latest news... I’ve been replaced at my job. I couldn’t give you a definite reason why, this is the name of the game. In this industry we are very replaceable and we’re always reminded. It’s a cutthroat industry. The industry of little to no heads up about anything. If you want to live this life you need to get comfortable in the uncomfortable. Something I’m still struggling with. 

So on that! I will use this time between gigs - to keep working on my creative projects and allow myself to catch up on my personal life. I will also enjoy the extra time to focus on bettering my acting craft. More time for auditions - YAY me ... PS: I won’t say no to money - so if you know of anyone hiring - I’m available!

Creative projects:

I’ve got a list of unfinished projects... Here’s why: I have no work station. By that I mean - I don’t have the proper tools to finish the job. I was on a roll with paying off my debts - and saving for a new computer to allow me to edit all these unfinished projects - but given the recent hiccup - it’ll take me a little while longer before I can get my hands on one. It’s on the top of my list though ladies and gents here’s what’s to come (eventually):

- Paris Vlog

- Podcast

- Quirky IGTV videos I will keep you guys posted on all the things - hopefully this #funemployment isn’t too much of a setback and doesn’t last too long!

Sometimes Fairytales don’t last. part 3

“ I can’t believe it’s over  a new beginning ”

11.29.18

& that was the end of us, but possibly the beginning of something wonderful...

I’m not trying to make myself sound like an angel. I wasn’t. It was impossible for me to be. I tried my best, but like I said, I lost control, more often than I would’ve liked. It was hard enough spending weeks on end without seeing each other because of his work schedule. Spending the only time we’d have together dealing with this -- heartbreaking affair -- then adding onto it more stress from the less than pleasant stay. Not to mention the lack of affection & connection between us, it was just too much. There were times where I shut down, I didn’t know how to communicate anymore. I didn’t know what I needed to do to make everything okay. I just didn’t know what my place was anymore. Ironically, if there’s ever a time where you need to show up powerfully for your partner this was probably it… I just couldn’t seem to succeed. I know I’m hard to love when I get into that closed off head space. So I most definitely played a part in the crashing ship we were both on. It was a vicious -- vicious cycle. The more I got rejected by the mom & the less connected I felt with him, the more I shut myself off. The more insecure & anxious I got, the less love he would give me. To be honest, I can’t even blame him. He had his own stuff to deal with. Reassuring me was probably the last thing on his to do list. It didn’t change the fact that we both probably could’ve used a little more loving. We just didn’t know any better. We both didn’t know how to deal with any of it. We tried, we had moments where we still felt like us. I wanted those moments to last forever. I did more than miss those moments, I was at a point where I was craving them. They were so few and far between, in a time where we needed them more than ever.

I think I could’ve held on, If he’d held on too.

When he left me, I broke down. Again. Seemed like this was becoming a pattern… breaking down that is. The hardest part was wrapping my head around reinventing a new life. I had just started a full time job on a film set. If you know anything about film, you know that a full time gig is very time consuming. Five days a week, 13 hours a day. Starting a new life, organizing a move, splitting our belongings -- on my weekends? You had to be kidding me! Overwhelming would’ve been an understatement. The fear of losing myself and the life I worked so hard to build, overpowered the fear of losing him.

I had for some reason assumed I would be the one moving out. He didn’t stop me from assuming that either. He had a bigger income than me, so, I guess we figured I couldn’t afford the place. After speaking to my mom the morning after, she made me realize that I needed to look after myself. If there was ever a time to be selfish this was it. Wait a minute I thought, I had a full time job now. This was my home. I’m here 24/7, he’s not. I took care of the apartment, I cleaned, I decorated, I worked in Vancouver -- Why would I be the one to move out? Living in Vancouver was my dream. Not his. I’d be damned if I were to lose it all because he chose to give up.

Sure the price is steeper than I’d want to pay on my own, but right now, I could do it! I could afford this and I could figure the rest out later. So I did. I told him I wasn’t moving out, and then I took my patio furniture out of the box and started building it. I’m here to stay.

I tried to give him the chance to come back on his decision, more than once. I told him that within our relationship we have space to give space. I reassured him that “us” right now wasn’t a priority, that it was about his healing. I gave him permission to do his own thing and not worry about us, on the condition that he’d still be faithful to me only. I pleaded for us not to have to split up and move out. I warned him that going through that, would be devastating to the relationship and very hard to come back from, if he ever did change his mind. He didn’t want any of it. He wanted to be single. He left for work again, and on that day, we had a 2 hour phone conversation. We finally cried it out. How hurt we both were. He got to say his piece, I got to say mine. We listened. For what it felt like the first time in ages. We heard one another. At the end of the conversation he even mentioned that maybe the next time he was in town, we could go on a date and start fresh. I agreed, with a smile. A few days had gone by since he’d left. Not a word. My hopes were soon to be nonexistent. He probably was just trying to be nice... I thought or he changed his mind again and doesn’t want to get back together. Either way, I got annoyed of waiting for a text, a call, any sign of life. I always hated being that girl. I don’t wait and wallow in self pity. Get back in the game I told myself. One night out with a dashing man, all dolled up, will be fun. I’m not as worthless as he made me feel and I deserved to have fun and feel wanted. So Tinder was downloaded. Yep, the good ol’ trusty Tinder… I was on that thing for approximately 48 hours. I matched potentially 6 guys from which only 1 started a convo. He lived 2 hours away, worked the same kind of schedule as my now, ex. Safe to say I didn’t keep that convo going. No thanks! Until the next day, I came across a new profile, I liked it all. He was cute, looked genuine, he was older, had a stable job and he didn’t live hours away. Him, I want him. But hey, it’s Tinder so he’s probably crazy, taken, or a loser. One night out for fun is probably all I’m getting out of this, so don’t get your hopes up. This was me getting ahead of myself because neither of us had said anything yet. I figured if I waited for him to make the first move, I might be waiting a while given the fact those other 5 guys never started a convo at all. So I made the first move, and waited for a reply I thought would never come. Sure enough he wrote back and I was pretty excited about it! We planned a dinner date for the next day. Again with low expectations, I didn’t think the date would actually pan out, but it did. The date lasted over 3 hours, and he wasn’t a catfish! I think for a first Tinder date, it’s a pretty damn good one. A simple, platonic first date. It felt amazing to have normal conversations with someone again. From then on, we tried to see each other as often as we could.

I still hadn’t heard from my ex, it had been over 2 weeks. At this point, I was more than convinced he and I were never going to reignite what we once had. How could someone who loved me go so long without speaking to me, it just didn’t make sense. The only conclusion I could come up with was that he in fact didn’t love me anymore. I was wrong, week 3, he shows up at my front doorstep, wanting to try us again. The decision was now mine. To take him back or to move on. I didn’t know what to do. It’s not like I fell out of love with him. I felt betrayed, lost, used. Not to mention having a terrible after taste from what happened with his mom. I was angry. After all we had spoken about spending a lifetime together, he wasn’t just some puppy love fling. I didn’t want to make a decision based on anger. I needed to take it one day at a time. I also had to be honest with my new beau; I really enjoy your company. You’re truly a breath of fresh air (which he was, especially after how suffocated I’d felt recently) but he’s come back into my life and I need to make sure I’m making the right decision. I can’t rush anything. I had told myself that I needed to take care of my heart, that if it caused anyone to decide that they couldn’t wait, that it wasn’t for me -- that the chips would fall where they were meant to. To my surprise, he was more than supportive. We agreed to slow things down and stay friends for now. I also had to be honest with the one that just came back into my life. Listen, I met someone, I told him. He was stunned. I mean… what did he expect? The fact that he either assumed I’d be waiting around for him after leaving me and ghosting me or that he simply thought no one would want me, was borderline insulting. I still didn’t turn him down right away. I told him I needed to believe he’d be here to stay before we ever think of getting back together. We agreed that only time would tell. Until I found out he had lied about his whereabouts one night when he had stayed back home and I had flown back home early. I was over the top enraged. At this point, I really couldn’t trust him anymore. It wasn’t about trusting in his will to make things work anymore, it was straight up trusting his word. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he had willingly lied to me. What else would he lie about in the future? Is this really the kind of relationship I’m going to feel safe and loved in? I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound like it, does it?

Letting go is hard. Especially when you’ve imagined a life with someone. We may not have been married, but we made promises to each other. We promised to be each others person. Those promises were broken. I never wanted this. It’s not easy to turn the page when you’re basically forced to. I didn’t feel like I had a choice anymore. It didn’t matter what I did or said, he kept making the wrong choices. I was furious at him for it. Maybe we just weren’t a good match to begin with. Or maybe we were a good match until we weren’t anymore. Regardless, I realized that I was fighting so hard to hold onto something that the universe was clearly trying to steer me away from. I got tired of fighting. I got tired of being the only one fighting.

I also happened to have met a really great guy. Who, during all this time, wiped tears off my face when I got overwhelmed with it all. He listened and heard me, even if it may have been hard for him to. I admired that. He was a friend before anything else. He tapped into that same selflessness that I’d been tapping into. He showed the kind of support I needed and wanted in a relationship all along. He was quite literally a breath of fresh air. I needed that right now. I couldn’t make a decision based on fear, or based on anger. I didn’t. I took my time and it didn’t happen overnight but I chose the path that allowed me to breathe freely.

Of course it hurts my heart. When you spend that much time with someone, whether you want to admit it or not, they become family. I’m starting to learn that love can live without being in love & that’s okay. Just because I’m not with him doesn’t mean I have to stop caring or hate him. I’m at ease with my decision, because it's what I needed. For the first time, I had listened to what I needed. We were great lovers, but we never could figure out how to be partners, and that’s ultimately what I’m looking for. For the first time in my life I was able to go through this without regretting anything. Because nothing was mine to regret. Things happened the way they did, and I had no control over it. I made decisions based on my needs and I gave it all. I gave all of me until I had nothing left to give.

Who knows what the universe has in store for me. Who knows where we’ll stand in 10 years from now. All I know is I’m ready to live in the moment. Love like I’ve never been hurt before and laugh like there’s no tomorrow. I hope you do the same.

It was the end of us… But it may have been the beginning of something wonderful.

Sometimes Fairytales don’t last . part 2

“ It hurt because it mattered “ -- John Green

11.28.18

I’m someone who can definitely be emotional. I have strong opinions, emotions, reactions. I’m not saying it’s always under control or even cute. It’s not. I give myself permission to feel, and no one can tell me I’m wrong for feeling the way I’m feeling. That being said, I can however, be called out on how I’ve reacted to something. Though, more often than not, I’ll save anyone the trouble because I’ll do that part myself… I’ve gained enough self awareness & humility to be able to call my own bullshit out when I need to. Sometimes I can call myself out in the moment but sometimes it takes me a few minutes or maybe, it takes me a few hours. One thing’s for sure -- I will always reflect on how I could’ve handled the situation differently. I’m very confident knowing what my intentions are and where my integrity lies.

When dealing with a loss, emotions run high in all directions, from everyone and anyone. I understand that people need space as humans to be able to be reactive once in a while. Myself included. We need the space to be irrational sometimes, without judgement. Because it’s bound to happen, it’s only normal.

Friends, family members, the support system… People are unstable in times like these and no one typically knows how to navigate any of it. The minute we got the news, He spoke to (I’ll come out and say who since it’s what set everything off for me) his mom, on the phone, he told her that we were driving down to make it to the funeral. I overheard her on the phone and she sounded unenthused when he mentioned I was coming along for the ride. I couldn’t figure out why. I expected her to be relieved and happy. Instead, she went on asking questions with an underlying tone. How long I’d be staying, wondering why I was coming down, twisting it in a way where I may be better off not coming to save me from the trouble of having to take time off... But why? I thought. Wouldnt that make her feel better, knowing that her grieving son wasn’t alone? That conversation felt off, but maybe that was my mistake, for expecting any reaction at all. I brushed it off as my own insecurity…

But then there was more...The morning of our arrival (having slept barely 10 hours in the past 3 days) was the wake. I had already spoken to him about what he wanted. If he’d like me by his side or not, he said yes. So naturally I was going with him to the wake (which was an immediate family event only). We’re ready to leave, about to head for the door, he comes up to tell me that I should hang back. Actually, he tells me his mom went up to him to let him know that she thought it’d be best for me not to enter the room. That I should “hang back” were the words he said she used or wait outside…Not to make anyone uncomfortable. Okayyy?! I thought… Don’t make a scene, I urged myself… My brain was suddenly going 130 miles per hour. Seventy questions at once; Why am I here then? Why didn’t she come to me herself? Did she not want me there? Did HE not want me there? Do I have a right to feel upset? What’s my place in this family? We’ve been together for 3 years, how is it that I’m still not welcome? Will I EVER be welcome?! With my heart twisted in pain and my mind filled to the brim with question marks -- Without making a scene I had to shove my poker face on & respond quick. In the moment, I chose to hang back altogether. As in -- not go. I figured I would spare all of us the awkwardness and myself the embarrassment.

So they left and I stayed at his moms house. Alone. I broke down…

I met him you know… his father. I met him once. And I wouldn’t get a second time. I didn’t get to say goodbye & I didn’t get to be there to support my person when he said goodbye either. Tears wouldn’t stop falling down my face. I didn’t know why I was such a mess. I didn’t even know if I had the right to feel what I was feeling. So I called my own support system; my mom, my dad, my step dad. My sister. Is this normal? I asked. Do I have a right to feel upset? Would we, as a family, have acted the same in a situation like this? I feel like I would’ve told you guys to F off if you’d tried to tell me that my person wasn’t allowed to be by my side while I was going through something like this…Or am I… overreacting?

Get it together Veronica, I cried to myself. Don’t make a scene. This isn’t about you… No one knows how to deal with this shit, so let it go. Having to swallow my pain & confusion, I needed to have a quick turnaround -- they’re coming back and my job is to have my shit together and to help however I can. They came back & he knew something wasn’t sitting right. I’m awful at poker faces. So I tried to bring up how I was feeling, to clear the air. Or atleast get some kind of reassurance… Communication is key right? Well apparently, so is timing… and it was definitely NOT the time to tell anyone how I was feeling. My feelings were irrelevant. He made that very clear. I had to shut up and keep it to myself if I wanted to keep the peace in the house. That too, didn’t sit well. With my mouth shut and a fake smile, I helped clean his dad's belongings. I tiptoed around everyone. Especially the mom. I felt unwanted & useless, like an outsider. I had to sit quietly in my corner several times while they were all upstairs whispering. 2 weeks of this, 2 full weeks; of feeling like an intruder, with no love from my person & zero quality time. Being left behind at his mother's while he took off to see friends or went to the gym. With no means of transportation, with my chest ready to explode with anxiety. Her and I never spoke about anything that happened. We both knew we were uncomfortable and hurt. Instead, we both just sat there being polite to each other. It almost felt genuine. Both smiled, said our good mornings, wished the other goodnight. We both ignored the massive elephant sitting in the room like pros. We were all very polite during our stay, as though we were guests at the four seasons, except I helped set the table and clean dinner plates after every meal. Everyone trying their best to stay politically correct. Everyone being a ticking time-bomb.

Looking back now, I probably should have either stayed with a friend or rented my own car. I felt stuck. Having to ask to be dropped off made me feel annoying and in the way. But he did, twice. Which felt incredibly nice to be out of the house, out of their way and in a space with people that felt safe. I tried offering to go stay somewhere else to give this poor family some space to breathe -- but he would blame me for even bringing that kind of thing up. As though I was giving up on him, or trying to guilt trip him somehow… My intentions were so far from his interpretation of it all and I was at a loss on how to make him see that.

Sure enough, letting this boil inside of me backfired. Trying to be on my best behaviour when I'm rotting with anger, was a setup to fail. The anxiety grew. I lost control, more often than I wanted to, to be quite honest. Looks like you can’t ignore your anxiety hoping it goes away. I felt what I felt, I couldn’t do anything about it except talk about it. But I didn’t feel like I had the space to do that.

Communication IS key. Timing just needs to take a backseat when you’re hurting. In a relationship you need to have the space to be open about what you’re going through. No shame -- no fear of judgement. You need a safe space between you two, to let the other know you’ve been hurt. Even if the other is hurting in that moment too. You both need to be each other's support. Maybe in times like these, all you can do is listen. But maybe that’s all we need. You’d be surprised how much being heard can do to the heart & soul. How healing that can be. We need to talk about things as they come or they WILL get worse. As they did.

We were supposed to come home together before he went back to work. We figured a week alone at home, to settle down from the shit storm that just hit us, would be beneficial to both of us. Individually and as a couple. But It didn’t happen that way. He chose to stay longer and I chose to leave early.Neither one of us were in a healthy state of mind to actually listen & hear one another. Things got out of hand. Arguments were getting worse and more frequent, trying to make sense of anything at this point. I couldn’t take it any longer. I was hurting too much. I needed a new perspective. I needed s p a c e. Somehow, we finally got to a place where he could let me go home and I to allow him to spend the remaining time with his family and friends. We agreed we would reconnect when he would be home the next time.

Shortly after I got home, our communication (I’m talking day to day connection) was diminishing at an alarming rate. No more good mornings, no more goodnights. Next thing you know, he’d go days without checking in. To a point where I had no idea if we were still together. I didn’t even know if he wanted me around. After a few days of no contact, he let me know he was going to come home after all. For a night or two before heading back to work. I offered to stay at a friends place to give him space, and he took the offer. I cried myself to sleep, more often than I can count in a span of a month. I didn’t understand how he could shut me out like that. Especially in a time where you’d think you’d want to get closer to those you love. That’s how I would want it anyway…  I had to put that aside. It wasn’t about how I would deal with it, remember? I reconfirmed to him that he could take all the space he needed. Again, trying to tap into selfless love, I chose him and chose to stick around despite how afraid and alone I was feeling. I figured this was the thick and thin part of a relationship. We were going through thick shit and hanging on by a thin thread... This is when you DON’T give up. So don’t give up! I told myself.

I went beyond myself, how did I ever hang on for so long? Well, I had the will to. Apparently that’s all you need. I figured people were grieving and I couldn’t blame anyone (myself included) for how any of us handled -- any of it. Also, the beach helped a lot…Unfortunately, not enough.

The next time he came home he let me go. I don’t want to do this anymore, he said.

& that was the end of us.

Sometimes Fairytales don’t last

“Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow”

-- Vincent van Gogh

I’m a huge sucker for love. I love love. I’ve always been a supporter of the good ol’ happy ever after, ask anyone I know… a hopeless romantic? Or just a naive lover? Who knows... What I do know is that I love deeply. I love wholeheartedly -- ev-er-y-time. I give all of me. I allow myself to fall in love, and I fall hard. Some say it’s a reckless way to love, I say it’s vulnerable, deep and true. Epically beautiful.

But sometimes, fairy tales don’t last. Sometimes, forever is shorter than we think…

I’ve had this story on my heart for a while. I’ve been procrastinating writing about it because I have this voice, telling me to keep it to myself. Who am I to share my story… What do I know. Who cares… Don’t lay your dirty laundry for everyone to see...

It’s a scary thing to lay your demons out on the table for people to make of it what they will… It’s a scary thing to show your weaknesses to the public because we feel like we could crumble at the slightest sign of disapproval. When actually - being brave enough to speak up - showing yourself unedited, raw, vulnerable -- is the biggest sign of strength and says more about you than anyone who’s trying to make you feel bad for sharing. So here it is... My truth -- my fallen fairy tale.

Though this story has been on my mind & is still passing through, it doesn’t mean I haven’t made peace with it. Emotions are waves of energy, the energy is still moving through me but my mind is at ease. I’m not sure if that makes sense to anyone else but me. It’s only natural to have wave of emotions when you are going through emotional changes. You’re shedding things that no longer serve you and you are evolving from one version of yourself to another. But I’m at ease, and that’s all I need. And that’s all I need you to keep in mind. Looks like I had more to say on the subject than I anticipated, so this will be a 3 part blog. I will be going into some details of what happened and what caused my latest break up - that I prefer to call “Love Lesson”.

I guess I’ll start with the beginning...

I met him in high school. He was just a friend. Actually, he was less than a friend, he was the guy in english class who’d sit next to me to make fun of my overzealous interpretations of Romeo and Juliet. I was the only one in class who got excited when we were forced to read Shakespeare out loud. I was also the only one made fun of when it was my turn to read for Juliet. Did I find him cute? I never really thought of him that way, because I was dating my high school sweetheart & best friend who was sure to be my future hubby...

So no, I never really looked at him that way. Did I ever think we would end up together? The answer is no. Not in a million years. After high school we both kind of lost touch -- I moved back to Montreal, and well, he moved out west to pursue the hard life on the oil fields. I had my own life drama to deal with like my high school sweetheart and I splitting up. My first hard year as a theater student -- all of a sudden having an existential and personality crisis. And He, well, he started dating someone who was sure to be his future wife… according to me, the hopeless romantic who thinks every relationship is bound to be a happy ever after. So in my mind he was just that guy who made me laugh (and sometimes cry) in my high school english class, nothing less, nothing more. 

Oddly enough, we somehow always got to cross paths every couple years. A quick hi on Facebook. A random pit stops in my hood to say hi while running errands or a quick meet up during the holidays at the local hangout spot -- the Tim Horton's on trim road in Orleans, Ont -- where we were bound to see someone we knew. He went from the high school joker to that friend that always checked up on me every now and then. It’s nice to have someone like that, I remember thinking, every time his name would come up. He subconsciously gave me a sense of security. Fast forward to 2014, at this point out and graduated from college, 4 years post high school sweet heart relationship -- I had recently fallen head over lust for this guy I met on vacation. I knew what I was getting into (ish) when I decided to pack my bags and move across the country to live and essentially start a life with (let's tell it like it is) a stranger… Romantic? Or outright stupid? Doesn’t matter, it was gutsy nonetheless… I knew I had chosen to make that situation work for myself -- but I didn’t take into consideration that mr.hunk might not… And so I packed all my shit and moved right back where I started. That’d be the hardest love challenge I’d go through -- to date. Funnily enough that’s the time I was most in contact with my long lost high school friend who somehow popped up every time I needed a sense of security. He was no longer that “every now and then friend”, he was now my best friend.

A year later, I ended back out west on a soul searching quest and we ended up going for what I thought were innocent BFF lunch dates. They weren’t. They were low key dates. That winter him and I were both in Ottawa for the holidays. He somehow managed to infiltrate himself in my tight knit schedule, and he also sneaked in a kiss after an actual dinner date. Did I ever think we would end up together? No. But we did. 8 years after high school.

It took me a while to believe that we would work. I hated his work schedule, he lived days away, he didn’t come from the same social background as I did. He was a hardcore country man and I, a ballet going, city living, theater geek. How would this ever work? I had done some major growing up in the past year, I wasn’t so naive anymore. I learnt that love was a choice. I choose to give my heart, and I choose to commit. And I realized that my hopeless romance wasn’t foolish or young or naive but simply a choice. When I choose, I stick. How would this ever work? It would because of the simple fact that I chose him. Despite it all. This is it, I thought. He’s my person. Maybe he’d been my person all along?! Because much to my surprise he admitted he had a crush on me since high school! This is it, this is my fairy tale. It then, didn’t take long for me to fall in love with our story.

Days turned into months, turned into years, turned into tears. I would be lying if I said our relationship was easy or flawless. It was the complete opposite. His work schedule would go from hard to worst to awful. Our communication went from typical to hurtful. We were high school buds turned best friends turned lovers, but couldn’t seem to figure out how to become partners. I was going to say I held on longer than I think I should have but that’s not true. I held on as long as I could, as long as I needed to, and that’s allowed. Unsure if we ultimately weren’t a good match or if life simply had different plans for us but...

The unimaginable happened. On our way to a romantic getaway we got devastating news that his father had passed. Unexpected, shocked, devastated, we drove 3 days to make it to the funeral. That was my cue that I needed to grow up some more and quick -- I needed to learn how to navigate grief over night & how to support my person all the while dealing with my own flood of emotions. I googled everything I could. The only thing I learned was that there is no “How-to” manual on dealing with grief or being the support system. I did the best I could. I gave space, I lent a shoulder to cry on. I tried giving love, affection. I tried it all. Nothing seemed to be quite right. Maybe that’s just what it feels like when you can’t be the one to take the pain away. I felt helpless. There was in fact nothing I could do to make anything better. I had to learn to live with that. As the outsider, not only are you dealing with the never ending feeling of helplessness, you also have to face waves of emotions and sometimes they’re not pretty. Everyone deals with grief differently. That’s one thing that kept coming up. How did he deal with it? He was all over the place. During the day, while dealing with the estate, he was very matter of fact. Distant, irritable, not loving. I had to constantly remind myself that it was okay. At night, he would leave me alone while he either went to see friends or to let out steam at the gym. I quietly waited at his moms. 

& that was the beginning of the end