I Don't Know What I'm Doing

Like I said.

So my job currently is a result of my past issues with depression. Yay me! Basically, because I suffered from a mental health issue and have since recovered, I work with clients with mental health challenges to provide them with hope and encouragement on their own journey to recovery.

Aw. Heart warming, right?

In theory. In reality, I have no freaking clue what I’m doing. People ask for my advice (many times…sometimes…okay, one time) and I literally have no idea what to say. So I just copy what I’ve heard other people say. Usually I just sit in meetings and nod my head (when I’m not falling asleep) and say “I agree with [insert name here]” when they ask me something (a little trick I picked up in University when I didn’t read any of the assigned texts). The saving grace is my patients, but even they expect more from me than I can give. It’s actually very eye-opening – what I went through is actually very common. You know what’s not common? Thinking you’re God. Nope.

Everyone knows I had to have gone through something to have my job, but my patients don’t actually take me aside to ask me about it. No, they yell, “SO YOU HAVE A MENTAL ILLNESS?” in the middle of the main building where allll the executives reside. Including my future husband. And it’s quite interesting when someone comes up and says, “So, what are you? Schizophrenic? Manic? Depressive?”. My personal favourite was getting asked, “Do you have schizophrenia?” My response: “No, I have – wait, do I seem like I do?!”

Anyway, I was in a group the other day talking to clients about dealing with things day to day and how I got through bad days. And all I could think of that day was that I was, in fact, having quite a bad day and I had no idea how to get through it. I just stared at them. I’m not even sure what I said, though I think it was something along the lines of “the past is the past and the future can be terrifying.” Which I am FAIRLY sure is not very comforting to those with severe mental illnesses.

I’m so good at what I do. Please don't tell anyone.

Love,

Bella

An Ode to a Friend

There is a saying in the world, and it is something like “people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” And then it goes on to explain what each of these mean, but to be honest I don’t really care enough to go into that much detail (which is kind of my life’s outlook in a nutshell…but anyway…)

So there are friendships that you have and then fade, and despite the reason they fade, they still mean something. But it’s the friendships that faded for a while and then rekindle that are the shit. Yes, the shit.

I have this friend. Her name is SM. Well, okay, those are her initials. But whatever. So anyway, she was mad at me because she hadn’t been in the blog for a while and other people had (haha, sorry babes, but that in and of itself was funny!). So this post is dedicated to her.

SM and I go way back. And I don’t mean school age. I mean I was 3 and she was 4 when we met. That kind of “way back”. I was a very bossy child and never let her sing Sandy’s part to “Summer Lovin” (we were obsessed with “Grease” and probably watched it every day during our summer vacations). I always told her what to do. I was actually kind of mean. I think she’s forgiven me now. And I even offer to take Danny’s part when we sing “Summer Lovin” now, but due to my insistence that she always had to be Danny, she doesn’t know the words to Sandy’s part. :(

We took dance classes and horseback riding lessons together, jinxed each other so that we had to get our elderly neighbour to say our names 3 times to unjinx us (we were adorable and not at all annoying), had lemonade sales that no one bought from except our parents, had imaginary kids (but never husbands – even then we knew they were useless), rode imaginary horses, and even had her dad make us a wooden horse (we named him Copper and yes, we DID try to ride him down the street).

We drifted apart for about 8 years or so, and reconnected about 3 years ago. And it felt like no time had passed. We are so similar it’s uncanny, right now to our resistance to marriage and kids and everything those things mean. She wholeheartedly supports my theory that I could be totally happy with relationships that stayed in the “not live in” boyfriend status. Own house, own rules, and a person to hang with, do stuff with, and have fun with. I don’t see why that isn’t the best thing ever…

Anyway, the point is, SM – this post is for you. I’m so glad we’ve reconnected, and I know that we’ll be friends forever from now on. And I know you wanted me to write a song about our friendship but that…didn’t happen. But I thought this might make up for it:



Love,

Bella

Friday Thoughts

Using My Talents for the Greater Good

Okay, so…the title might be a bit exaggerative. I am, however, using my degree and my grammar skills to help clients with a newsletter that they produce every 4 months. When I heard about this group, I was pretty excited that I’d get to spend time with clients doing something that I’m not only good at but thoroughly enjoy. What I didn’t consider was my Nazi-ism when it comes to proper grammar and consistency. I love my clients dearly, but they are cearly less concerned and aware of proper spelling, grammar, and consistency than I am and this is NOT OKAY. No, I'm sorry. I know I can’t expect them to be. I just think that they might be happier if they became as crazy about spelling and grammar as me. Because I think they might be taking offence when I mark-up, and essentially change every word in, their articles except for the odd “the” and “a” or when I grab my hair in frustration when they don’t make the borders even.

My bad.

The Big Bang Theory

In the newer episodes of the Big Bang Theory, there are two characters to discuss: Penny and Amy Farrah Fowler. Now, I have never really felt any kindred spirit type thing with any of the characters on that show, mostly because they are either super nerdy (Amy) or super pretty and popular (Penny). Both of which are extremes that I don’t fall into (although if I had to pick one, it would be the nerdy extreme :(). Anyway, I was watching an episode last week, and was rather shocked to learn just how much I am like Amy. She had a painting done of her and Penny as she was just so thankful to Penny for her friendship. A nice gesture, to be sure (just going to disclaim that I have never, nor will I ever, have a large painting done in honour of a friendship with someone. Just a small one). But it was her explanation of the gifting of this portrait that really got me – she told Penny she was giving her the gift because, before Penny, she was uncool and shy and didn’t have a life.

I have said this to ED. On more than one occasion. Oh, sweet Jesus...

Daddy Daughter Date

Saved the best part for last in this post. Daddy Bella and I went to see the Leafs play against the Sharks last night. We had a lovely dinner that I ate in, like, 2.5 seconds (and then saw some other girl eating the same thing really dainty-like and developed a bit of a complex until my next beer came) and then headed to the ACC. I love the atmosphere there – everyone is so hopeful and energetic because the Leafs haven’t lost yet and we all think they’re going to win. On our way in to the arena, my Dad saw a friend of his that is apparently rather well off as he was heading to his seat on the ground level. After general hellos and introductions, he went off in search of his seat in the Platinum section and we went UP in search of our seats in the purple section. And up. And up again to our seats. So…yeah, we were pretty high. Up, that is. My Dad and I did not smoke before going to the game. Are you kidding? Those stairs are way too steep – I don’t think I could get there without having a meltdown if I was any type of intoxicated.

Ahem, anyway, the Leafs didn’t play very well. Brown’s fight was pretty awesome, and their one goal was good. But other than that – they could have done better. But the time with my Dad? That was by far the best part. I don’t realize how similar we are until it’s just him and I together (we even sit the same - see above photo). And perhaps one of my favourite moments was when I ran off to the bathroom and left him holding my purse with my bright pink scarf tied around the straps. When I came back, he had placed it on the bar he was near, trying to keep an eye on it but also clearly trying to show that it wasn’t his.

“Haha, I realized when I got in there that I left you with my purse!”

“Yeah. I had to say ‘no’ 3 times.”

I love him.

Love,

Bella

That Awkward Moment When…

 
You realize that the girl who you’ve just met and who asks if you know the security guard at your work and you exclaim “oh my GOD, yes I know him, he’s so hot!” is dating said security guard.
 
Seriously, how do you come back from that? Answer: you don’t.
 
This very scenario happened to me when I met LB’s friend for the first time. We had previously discussed that one of her friends was seeing the hot security guard at my work, but I didn’t realize that it was THIS friend that would be joining us for dinner. So when she asked if I knew him, I just thought that she, like LB, knew of someone dating him. I didn’t realize it was HER. I stared at her for about 10 seconds before saying, “Um…oh…” and sitting back in my seat, wondering how I could make this into something not so awkward. Nothing came to me.
 
“So, um, maybe don’t tell him that I said that…”
 
“Oh no, I have to now.”
 
“Yeah but…see…when I say I know him, I mean I range between waving erratically at him and trying to act really cool, which elicits a rather reserved response from him. And do you know why? Because I know who he is; he has no idea who I am."
 
“I’ll just tell him the story; I won’t say your name.”
 
“That really doesn’t make it any better…”
 
So now, instead of strategically placing myself in areas where I think he might be, I spend my time, when out in the halls, frantically searching for him in an effort to avoid another awkward moment of coming face to face with the guy that knows I think he’s hot but neither of us acknowledge it and results in me staring at him desperately trying to form words and him scared of me because he realizes that the girl that he’s spoken to twice not only think he’s really hot but talks about him outside of work to his girlfriend. And blogs about him. But I’m really really hoping he doesn’t find out about the blogging part because I’m fairly certain I’ll be issued a restraining order…
 
I might need a new job.
 
Love,

Bella

"Table for two?" "No! Four! Not everyone is on a date!"

(What I'm going to do to some of these guys here. That are on dates. Minor detail.)

Right, ok, so I'm fairly secure with myself. Well, no that's a lie, but I have no problem spending time alone. One thing I've realized I'm not comfortable with? Sitting alone at a table in a restaurant. On Valentine's Day. Surrounded by couples and men who are clearly at the bar to pick up what they believe are sad single women with low self esteem that just want to be loved and hate V day. Not that they're hitting on me. So I can only guess. 

(Also, there are a number of very good looking men here. I'm wondering what the protocol is on trying to hit on another woman's man on V Day...)

Oh, and the best part that I'm legit having so much fun watching? I'm sitting across from a couple of 3 year olds on a date. Real ages to be determined, but I'm pretty sure I'm not far off. How do they have money to be here? Never mind, I know. Mommy gave them money when she dropped them off.

Damn, I wish my Mom still did that...

And as I sit here, laughing to myself as I write and happy there's no stupid accordion playing love songs because it's now probably common knowledge that I'm not a fan of conventional "romance", I realize I'm sitting at a candlelit table.

Shit.

Love,

Bella

The Day of Love

This photo is courtesy of ED. Because she is hilarious.

It’s Valentine’s Day! You might be thinking that this post will be all about how much I hate V Day and love and whatever else it signifies because I’m hardly a lovey person. But, to be honest, I love Valentine’s Day. I love the colours, the atmosphere, the decorations, and, of course, the chocolate. While I’m not much into the idea of spending Valentine’s doing cheesy romantic things, I like the general idea of celebrating the people you love.
 
I used to be that girl that complained about V Day and how much I dislike it – I guess I was trying to be…something. Maybe, because I was single, I thought I needed to be really cynical about a holiday that celebrated love, and I didn’t think I had that. Except, for some reason, I didn’t think about the different types of love other than romantic. V Day can be any way you want it to be. Sure, it’s commercial, but you can take it for what it is – a chance to be totally corny and happy and wear pink and eat chocolate and tell people how much you love them.
 
This Valentine’s Day, I’ll be spending with it one of my girlfriends and a couple of her friends, going to dinner and seeing a sappy movie. And I’m so excited for it! When I was little, my Momma used to make a huge heart shaped brownie and give us treats that she made up (I still got them this year!). My Grandma has always had V Day cards for us. My earliest memories don’t stem from romantic Valentine’s Days – they stem from the love from my family. What’s better than that?! In University and after, JS and I spent Valentine’s Day together – even once in southern France while we were on exchange in Europe. I have great V Day memories, and I’ve realized that it’s not so much about romantic love as it is about love in general – and I love a lot of people.
 
My family. My really close knit family members are less than 10, but that’s really all the world could handle when we’re all together. We’re quirky. And I love that about us. I wouldn’t be who I am (read: awesome) without their influence. They make me laugh, and they’re there when I need to cry. We’ve been through a lot, and have come out stronger for it. They were there with unconditional support throughout my entire life. I can be myself with them – no airs, no pretences. Whenever I’m with them, I feel like I belong. And for a person that doesn’t often feel that way on a day to day basis, it means the world to me. I’m very lucky to call my family members my friends - I have never questioned their love for me, and I never will. I couldn’t imagine my life without my wonderful family. And, of course, the furry members. Broedie, my childhood dog who passed away a couple years ago, but who will always be special to me, and Benny, the newest member of our family, who, now that he’s here, I couldn’t imagine not having around.
 
My friends. The family we choose! Growing up, friends change. But now, at this point in my life, I feel like these friends are the ones I will have for a lifetime – at least I hope so. I can’t really capture how grateful I am to have people that choose to be friends with me (unless they’re being paid, which…whatever. I’ll take it). My friendships have changed over the years, and all for the better. I talk a lot about them in my posts – the friends that managed to get me out of the shell I was in after University, and how much that’s helped in my life to date; the friends that were there all through University and who got me through some really tough days; and the friends that I’ve reconnected with and who, without them around, would leave a big hole in my life. Gaps in friendships can happen, but it doesn’t mean they’re over. Many changes have occurred with my friends over the years, especially with my closest ones. There are some things I wish I could change, and times I wish I could get back, but the point we’re at now somewhat makes up for it.
 
So, basically, this blog is dedicated to my loves – my family and friends. And this kind of mushy I’m okay with. It’s the other kind, about a guy, that I don’t get and makes me shiver – and not in a good way.
 
Love,
 
Bella

Let's Talk!

Since I work in a mental health centre, it’s kind of obvious that I’m going to write about Mental Health Awareness week and Let’s Talk Day. What I’m not going to do, though, is get all serious on you.

Look, everyone knows that mental health issues are pretty intense. But making it all dark and sad and serious doesn’t make anyone want to talk about it. 1 in 3 (depending on who you ask – could be 1 in 4 or 5, too) people suffer from a mental illness. Dudes. That’s a LOT of people. Why the hell can’t we just be all “yep, I have a mental health issue. Oh, you too, eh? Sucks. Let’s chat about it over a drink” (unless you have an addiction issue, too, in which case I wouldn’t recommend alcohol)?

So I’m pretty sure it’s not a secret to anyone that reads this blog that I suffered from depression for, like, 4 years. It was all through University, basically. It sucked the big one, but I got help for it and I came out on the other side. I’m happy now, and I have a great life and great relationships. My relationships got me through - my Momma was there for me through it all, trying to figure out how to help me when I was in England and falling apart, and I can't imagine how that must have scared her. My Dad put up with a LOT of moodiness and irritability that was really unwarranted, and he jokes now that he didn't know which daughter he was going to get each day (even each minute). My poor parents!

Okay, mushiness done. I had to mention them, though. Anyway, I still have tough days, but that goes with the territory (who doesn’t have tough days?). But when I talk about it now, which I have to do a lot for work because that’s my job (legit), I use humour. Because in my experience, people are more at ease when you make things a bit lighter. It doesn’t have to be a sob fest (and I don’t want it to be. Crying people make me really uncomfortable). I can be open and honest and still light hearted. Hell, laughter makes everything better (it's scientifically proven!).

Depression is probably the most common mental health issue. So many people suffer either from depression or a form of depression called dysthymia (I learn soo many big words at my job. Google magic it!). It’s ok to talk about it, you know. Like, sometimes when I meet people that are on the same meds as I am, I high five them. It’s like finding out you have the same birthday or something. Twinsies!

It’s ok to say that you need help with the stuff you’re going through, or that you’re scared. (And yes, for all you buttheads who may scoff at it being “scary” – when you feel like life isn’t worth living anymore, it can be a wee bit frightening). You can’t fix yourself, you know. Meds aren’t a sign of weakness. They’re a sign that you care enough about yourself to actually get better (yay, meds!). If you had an infection, I'm pretty sure most of us wouldn't keep quiet and will it to go away - we'd get an antibiotic. It's the same thing with a mental health issue! That's how we need to see it, everyone. Just saying.

I don’t know what I hope to do with this post – I’m pretty sure I haven’t said anything of much consequence. I guess all I want to do is reach out to those who might be suffering and urge you to get help as soon as possible.

Let’s Talk about it, people. Mental health has got to be normalized, because when it becomes normal, more people will get help, and less people will get to the point where they have to be admitted to a facility. I am sooo available to anyone that wants to chat with me about it! I really hope that anyone who reads this that might be having a hard time really does know that I’m here to talk to. Serious! Email me.

Love,

Bella