Shoulds and Shouldn’ts

Why are we, as in humans, so damn hard on ourselves?  I suppose I shouldn’t speak for all of human kind, so I will rephrase.  Why do some of us expect ourselves to be perfect.  No one is perfect, and no one expects us to be perfect.  Yet, people like myself have a hard time accepting this.

This thought came to me after eating half a cookie from the lunch room today.  A split in 2, chocolate chip cookie has me feeling like a total failure; this is a sad fact of who I am.  I eat extremely healthy, workout twice a day, and I do my best to reframe from processed sugary food.  It should be no big deal that I indulge in a partial treat.  But it is.  I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’m already calculating how much longer I will need to be at the gym tonight to erase the guilt.  It irritates me to no end that I can’t just enjoy a f*cking cookie.

Much of my daily thoughts revolve around what I shouldn’t be do, and what I should be doing better.  I shouldn’t have drank that wine last night; I should study for more hours during the week, I should be a better writer, I shouldn’t have skipped my work out on Monday night, etc. etc. etc.

My life is a constant battle of shoulds and shouldn’ts, and it shouldn’t be like that.  I’ve read many online articles and blogs that talk about why “shoulds” are unhealthy.  Shoulds and shouldn’ts reduce happiness, but I can’t seem to stop them from racing through my mind a million miles an hour.  It’s a given that most of this type of thought process is a by-product of my Generalized Anxiety Disorder.  Still, I feel I SHOULD be able to stop the constant shit I give myself about not being PERFECT.

Right now I’m thinking I should be writing something interesting and funny.  BUT WHY?  Why should I be?  I don’t feel interesting and funny right now.  I started my day with an anxiety attack, and although I’ve managed to be somewhat ok today, I don’t feel great.  I feel sad, tired, and lonely, and I feel like I shouldn’t be feeling any of those things.  Right now, I want more than anything to have a normal healthy brain.

The best that I can do is to try and be kind to myself.  I am who I am; I think the way I think; and I feel the way I feel.  I came off anxiety meds because I wanted to feel me; I wanted to feel.  I am happy for the reminder of my true self; even the parts that drive me crazy.  I’m a should/shouldn’t thinking, and I guess that’s OK.


Morning Reloaded

VIBRATORS.  Love them; have them.  Ok, restarting my day on a much more positive note.  If you had the pleasure of reading my last post, you probably sensed I had a bad morning.  I’ve blogged about it, so now I’m ready to move on.  Back to my original thought — Vibrators.  They truly are a single girls best friend.



Blowing Off Steam


Image result for Blowing off steam

This morning has been one big disaster, and I’m ready to write it all out of my system.  Dealing with my anxiety unmedicated has many challenges, but one of my main sources of anxiety is coming from my best friend.  I hate to admit this, but now that I have, I need to figure out a solution.

My friend of over 12 years has been going through a separation/divorce for over a year now, and every morning I meet her for a run, and I listen.  I start my day at 5 am listening to someone I love unload her problems, and I can’t do it any more.  This morning was my breaking point when she yelled at me when I made the mistake of opening my mouth.  Typically, I try to keep my mouth shut, as I know advice or comments are not what she needs.  This morning, however, she was super angry, and even though I know she was venting, she was basically taking it all out on me.  When she raised her voice at me, I stopped and turned around to walk away, as I needed a breather.  This made her cry, and then I felt guilty.

Long story short, my morning start off shitty, and I had a nice big anxiety attack before I even got to work.  It took me an hour to work through my anxiety and relax my brain and body.  This needs to stop, and I’m the only one that can change the situation.  I do not want to hurt my friend, nor do I want her to think she’s done anything wrong.  It’s perfectly acceptable for her to be hurting and angry, and it’s understandable that she needs me as an ear.  However, 5am is not the time for it.  I can’t start my day off this way.  Next week, I will be telling her that I need to end our morning runs, as they are not healthy for me.  I will explain that I still want to be there for her, and maybe we could meet for a run in the evening.  I hope she will understand because I see no other alternative at this point.

I’m sorry for this little rant; I needed this space to get it out of my system.  I’m going to post this little beauty, and then I’m going to start another post on a positive note.


Play Me A Song

Person Playing Guitar

Musicians.  Such beautiful creatures.  Before I married my ex-husband, I had a string of guitar playing, long haired boyfriends.  Those were the most intense, yet volatile, relationships I have ever had.  I loved them; I hated them, but one thing was certain, I couldn’t get enough of them.   I wish, that,  I knew what I know now; when I was younger — I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Can you see it?  The devilish grin that just flashed across my face.  Naughty girl; naughty, naughty girl.

I had all forgotten about my  lustful musician following years… I repeat “had” forgotten.


He walked up to the stage and grabbed his guitar.  I saw him from across the yard, just as I was reaching into the ice bucket for another beer.

“Hello, my name is Dave.”  

I swear the earth’s rotation stops dead in it’s tracks.  I turn towards the sound of his voice and crack open my beer.

He clears his throat and begins to play.  Strum, strum, strumming his acoustic…his lips part…. and I, fall in love.  He had me in the palm of his hand; there was nothing, not even my bladder, that could tear me away from his voice.  I grabbed my chair from the other tent and placed it 8ft from where he was playing.  My love grew stronger with every song he sang.

I spotted the host of the party and rushed over to question him about the entertainment.

Me: “So, great party.  Thanks for inviting me; the food was delicious. Is Dave single?”

Host: “Oh you are so welcome, and thanks for coming.  No, he’s got a girlfriend.”

Me: “And how’s that going?”

Host: “Haha, well it’s been going on for about a year, but I can let you know if things don’t work out.”

Me: “Geez, thanks.”

   To Be Continued……..

Today — I Facebooked stalked him and followed his band page 🙂  Before you say “stalker,” hear me out.  Now, I get that he does not know my name, and yes, he has a girlfriend.  True, I might be rushing things a bit, but we are in love.  Sure, he is not aware of the love we share, but no relationship is perfect.

Before I get myself into trouble, I’m going to stop the story here.  I’m leaving the clouds and my fantasies behind (for now).   Work is calling my name, and so is reality.  Buzz kills.  I hope you all enjoyed your weekend; I can’t wait to catch up on your posts.





Off To The Lake

A short wait for the ferry to return to work me away to a lake house party.  There’s live music, Indian food, boating, and great conversation waiting for me on the other side of this beautiful lake.  

My anxiety almost kept me from taking the 1.5 hour drive to this oasis, but I powered through my emotions, and now here I sit awaiting my chariot. 

I’m just about to board, so here’s hoping I hold it together and actually have a little fun. 

Keeping The Stubble

I took a chance on love, but it shall not be.  Dating rule book is now back in effect.  Mr. Recently Separated flaked on our date tomorrow, and I doubt he was even going to tell me.

I’m a planner, I must know what I’m doing, when I’m doing it, and how I will be doing it… hmmmmmmmm what was I saying?  Oh right, I was talking about the flakster.  As I was saying, I’m a planner, so I sent Mr. RS a quick text to make sure we were still on for tomorrow evening.  I needed to know if shaving my legs still needed to be on my TO Do list for tonight.  Anyway, a few minutes later I get a text that goes a little something like this:

“Oh Hi Mr. Smarty, I unfortunately have to cancel tomorrow, as I have to go to (fake city).  My (fake) elderly aunt and uncle are moving to (another fake city), and they need my help moving.  I still want to meet you (bullshit), so I hope this is ok?”

Interesting.…. how strange that his elderly aunt and uncle just decided, today, to move cities tomorrow.  If I hadn’t messaged him, I would have wasted a perfectly good shave for nothing.  What ever the case, no loss here.

Instead, I will be having beers with one of my bestie male co-workers.  He’s a cutie, but much too young for me.  Still, I can drink wine and admire his… eyes — I’m pretty sure they’re brown.  Even better, I’m sure to have an interesting conversation, which I’m sure would not have been the case with RS.

Onwards and upwards — hairy legs and all.


A Smile A Day

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Makes anxiety go away?  Well not really, but it does keep me from dwelling on it.  That has been my strategy for the past couple weeks.  Humour has always been my favorite coping mechansim because laughter is the only kind of medication I’m on now.  Look at me all medication and fancy free.

I made the mistake of Googling to much when I started tappering off my anxiety meds.  I wanted to be prepared for what I was going to go through, so I read blogs and articles related to anxiety, discontinuation syndrome, and ADHD.  What a death sentence that was.  The more I read, the more I paid attention to every sensation and thought I was having.  I was gluttonous — a true glutton for punishment.

Then early one morning, just as the sun was rising, I said to myself “Hey you; ya you, the one sitting there getting anxious about your anxiety, what the h*ll are you doing?”  At first I wasn’t sure if I was talking to myself or not, but  when I realize I was in fact talking to me, I listened up.  Curious minds want to know if I started talking back, and the answer is “Obviously.”  I’m a good conversationalist, and I really enjoy talking to myself.  Just ask me, myself, or I; they will all tell you the same thing: That girl’s got good talk.

Now, this little unmedicated chicky is walking around with a shit-eating grin on her face, and talking to herself in dark corners.  This means only one thing:  I’m managing my anxiety just fine without meds — I’m barely crazy at all.  Seriously, I’m not crazy; I have some mood disorders, but so what.  I’ve got my sense of humour, my dog, and a good pair of jeans — that’s all any girl could ask for.  OK, you got me, I also need wine, and every once in awhile an Ativan, but other than that….. oh, and chocolate, sometimes I need chocolate, but that’s it.  MONEY, I totally forgot, I also need money.  A sense of humour, my dog, a good pair of jeans, wine, Ativan, chocolate, and money: That’s all this girl needs in life.  Besides my friends, family, and music.  Other than that, I don’t need a thing in this world.  Except my car and house.

Image result for Martini cheers emojiHere’s to living simply — Cheers!

“A good laugh overcomes more difficulties and dissipates more dark clouds than any other one thing.” – Laura Ingalls Wilder