Finding my inner zen…

…30 days at a time.

So, I hit a major life milestone last week: my dirty 30. The birthday I’ve been silently dreading for the last decade of my life. Why? I think I’ve always imagined waking up the next day, feeling a not-so-subtle shift in my life, a slow downwards trajectory in everything that I would do from that point forward. With the best years behind me, and no clear path in front of me, this was not a milestone I was ready to partake in.

As I glance through the posts from the early days of this blog, I remember the unencumbered freedom I felt in relaying my excruciating heartbreak and cluster-fuck of thoughts into this little corner of the Internet. I was so completely annihilated by the drive-by manner of the breakup I had just suffered, that I had no time to overthink the words pouring out from my fingertips, angrily clanging on the keyboard between big gulps of boxed wine and self pity.

It wasn’t perfect; it wasn’t even proof read most of the time; but it was 100% my authentic self.

I’ve tried starting up many blogs, numerous writing projects, since that time. But truthfully, I get overwhelmed with all the thoughts and ideas in my head, with no clear way to organize them. I hinted at this in my last post, starting off with the quote I oftentimes repeat to myself from the trenches of the corporate salt-mine: “I can do anything, but I can’t do everything.” Overwhelmed with choices, watching ghost ships of seas not traveled, tends to be very debilitating for a lazy perfectionist.

So this is why in my 30th year of life, I’ve decided to launch my new project. Each month, I will take on a new 30-day challenge, to conquer and develop habits in something I’m passionate (or want to be!) about. I’m hoping that this will take the decision fatigue out of the equation, and that each change will inspire and encourage the next.

And because I miss writing (but it also scares the crap out of me to do it on a regular basis), I am making a promise to document the journey, in a somewhat regular manner.

Oh. And my 30th birthday? One of the best days of my life.


I can do anything…

…but not everything. And that is where the trouble begins (or rather, never starts).

As the years pass, the more I realize that I must let go of ghost ships of lives not lived; paths not taken. In my attempt to not commit any mistakes, I stand at the precipice of the multi-faceted person I want to be – clutching a list of “what ifs” tightly to my chest.

I now know I will never become a doctor or astronaut. I probably will never win a Nobel Peace Prize (TBD!). I think I’ve come to terms with not living abroad – it has never felt better to lay down roots. But in letting these ghost ships sail, I have determined the “what ifs” I’m not willing to let go of:

Writer. Photographer. Artist. Cook. Philanthropist. Yogi. Meditator. Influencer. Optimist. Functioning adult. Ukulele player.

I’ve mapped out the spheres, now I need to let the optimalist override the perfectionist hanging out on my shoulder whispering nonsense in my ear.

What is the key to letting go of indecision and taking a bold step forward in the right direction…in any direction!?

Current status: reflective / sleepy at 9 p.m. (embracing inner grandma) / obsessed with Iris Apfel

The mental benefits of regular Windex(ing).

My mother always warned me that my dirty mirrors were preventing real love from entering my life. I was skeptical. I was fairly certain it was my own lack of enthusiasm and general wariness that was preventing any of the lacklustre Tinder suitors from taking up permanent residence in my life.

And then one day, I decided to succumb to the pull of the Windex (and my mother’s nagging). I grabbed the lonely blue bottle from below my kitchen sink, dusted it off and tentatively gave my front hall mirror a wipe. And then another. And another. Until my dust-free reflection beamed back at me.

I began clearing out other parts of my shoe box home. With every item I purged, I felt lighter. Rid of memories. No more clutter. I narrowed my life down to items that were meaningful and necessary. And then I began clearing out my life in the same way.

No more room for people not adding value to my life; no more room for indecisiveness. I got rid of the empty friendships; the ex-boyfriend rolodex; the excess human clutter I kept around out of habit.

But most importantly, I released the disappointment and resentment that came with clearing those shelves. I wiped away the past – first in small strokes – and then in one final fell swoop.

So here I am. Arguably at my best. Still a perfectionist battling to become an optimalist – still trying to find a creative outlet that doesn’t feel overwhelming.

I am a work in progress. But you know what? My mirrors are clean. And my life is overflowing with love.

Current Status: Windex in hand / heart full / Current jam: Ben Howard – Keep your head up


Goodbye, 2015.


I would like to gracefully depart 2015 with a note for anyone who has recently had their heart broken.

Things probably seem pretty fucking shitty right now. You may still be struggling to dig yourself out of a mound of snotty Kleenex – or perhaps you’re not even pretending to try. Or maybe you are subsisting on a diet of ramen noodles and crushed dreams.

Whatever part of the process you are in, please know that all the Pinterest quotes don’t lie. Time really does take time.

Eventually you will look back on this time of your life and shake your head. You may even smile. Your life will unfold in unimaginable ways, if you just allow yourself the time to heal properly and then be brave enough to open yourself up again.

My life is so much bigger than it ever was when I was with him. My heart is full. And I don’t mean that I filled it with another man. I managed to stay single. I found my own happiness without building up my life around one human being.

So cry it out. Drink lots of wine. Eat ramen until you’re in a MSG coma. Surround yourself with friends and family. And when you’re ready, put your big girls pants on, take a deep breath and shake it off. As a smart person once said:

Bitch, be cool. Do you. This is life. Keep figuring it out.

The perils of modern dating.

The last time I actively dated as an “adult” was when I was 19 – a time when anyone who dated online was still considered a social leper and my prefrontal cortex was still not yet fully developed. (Any day now, brain…any day.)

Dating in your late 20s – after a decade of catapulting yourself into a steady stream of monogamous relationships – is a goddamn minefield.

Gone are the simple days of the crumpled note being thrown at you by the mushroom-cut heartthrob during recess: Do you like me? Yes? No? Maybe? (Check one.) And off you go merrily to the school dance…done and done!

With so many options literally at our fingertips, dating feels more like a game these days. Who can be the most aloof? Who can space out their text messages the longest to ensure an air of unavailability and mystery is always conveyed?

At the end of the day, this is the way I see it: I could opt out of dating completely and get a jump on adopting the inevitable thirty cats, or I can continue to awkwardly navigate through the complexities of modern-day dating and see how it goes?

Down the rabbit hole I go…

What is the best dating advice you’ve ever received? Help!

Current Status: terrified for my glycolic peel / attempting to put my Christmas tree up today / enjoying my 90’s hip-hop playlist


How long does heartbreak last?

…11 months for me, apparently. That is precisely how long it took to get over Mr. B.

I’m no longer angry; no longer sad; no longer thinking about it. I no longer wish horrible things upon him. (Not even continued premature hair loss; although pretty sure there’s no stopping now…)

How did I get here? I believe a big part of it was a lot of introspection; pouring my soul out to kind strangers on the Internet; copious amounts of red wine; the Domino’s pizza app; an amazing network of close friends and family who never tired of reassuring me of my own sanity; and good old fashioned…time.

But there was also another integral part to this process…I got burned by someone else.

Nothing serious; nothing that will make a lasting impression on my life. But the momentary surprise and disappointment was more fresh in relation to the progressively dulling pain of the Mr. B saga. For the first time this year, another person became the source of my frustration.

When I took a step back from the situation, I realized that somebody besides Mr. B was capable of hurting me. Which means that somebody besides Mr. B is capable of making me feel happy. (Disclaimer: I don’t mean happy in the sense of needing someone to complete my life, but rather, complement my already pretty awesome life. And eat pizza with me.)

Life is pretty good. Stay tuned.

Current Status: not sure if I’m digging the new Adele album / ecstatic to not be working tomorrow / queuing up a TED Talks marathon

10 Things I’ve Learned From Getting Dumped.

In the spirit of lists, and my infinite love for them, here are some pearls of wisdom I managed to extract from getting drive-by dumped earlier this year.

  1. Wine is your friend. Choose your poison wisely; don’t abuse it. But rest assured that a glass of Merlot will never kick your ass to the curb.
  2. All those stupid sayings about time healing all are true. One day, you will wake up and the first thought on your mind won’t be that smug bastard. Let time do its thing; Pinterest quotes do not lie.
  3. Safety nets are key. Your friends and family are wiser than you ever knew. Let them share their stories; it feels good to know others have come out on the other end to be the functioning members of society you know them to be!
  4. Exercise is a lifesaver. Once you’ve gotten your snotty face out of your pillow and dragged yourself back into society, going out and getting your ass moving is crucial. Better to be sad and fit, than sad and wallowing in sweat pants.
  5. You will be overly cautious with every new person you meet for awhile – and that’s okay. Eventually, your faith in humanity will be restored. Not everyone is an asshole; don’t worry.
  6. It will feel like a giant kick to the stomach when you learn about your ex’s new flavour of the month. Avoid the urge to social media stalk, and you will be rewarded in time. Out of sight; out of mind. As trite as they may be, clichés are clichés for a reason.
  7. You will be more self-critical than you’ve ever been. Were my thighs too fat? Was I not charming enough? Smart enough? Funny Enough? No. No. No. No. Be kind to yourself. Don’t let yourself fall into this pattern of self-criticism. Life happens; people change; relationships end.
  8. Not forgiving someone doesn’t make you a bad person. Yes, you need to move on. But you don’t necessarily have to forgive the douchebag who had so little regard for you.
  9. Kelly Clarkson is the ultimate break-up song go-to diva. Because Of You. Never Again. Since You’ve Been Gone. Miss Independent. What Doesn’t Kill You (Makes You Stronger). Play it loud; play it proud. Sing at the top of your lungs. No shame.
  10. You shall love again (probably). Unless you decide to become a crazy cat lady instead. But chances are, once you have adequately grieved and healed, your heart will pitter patter again at the sight of a handsome stranger. Don’t be a bitter bitch; embrace it when it comes your way.

And, because you all know I love my cheesy/inspirational quotes, I will end on this note:

“One of the happiest moments in life is when you find the courage to let go of what you can’t change.”


Happy Anniversary, asshole.

Today marks the one-year anniversary of the night I met Mr. B, subsequently launching me into a transatlantic  whirl-wind romance, culminating in the the shell-shock of dealing with the first heartbreak of my life.

I haven’t written for a while for various reasons. Reasons I’ve been mulling over and struggling with over the past few weeks. Extraneous circumstances rendering me unfit and paralyzed to continue transcribing the most intimate details of my life onto the computer screen, and out into the world. Those will be tackled another day; in another mood.

I changed the title of this post many times. Am I being too crass? Am I still the bitter ex-girlfriend who refers to her past flame only in derogatory terms? Perhaps. Definitely. I’ve wondered aloud before, whether getting over someone requires forgiving their actions. I surmised even back then, that perhaps some individuals do not merit forgiveness; that this is not a necessary component in moving on with one’s life. And I am still of the thought that this is true.

Despite all the anger and general ill will that I still harbour for Mr. B, I am also thankful (it took me an extremely long time to get to this conclusion). Bear with me here – hold back your groans – but, up until meeting Mr. B, I had never experienced the feeling of being sure, beyond a doubt, about wanting to be with someone. I took a chance; I fell in love. And now that I know what that feels like, I would prefer being alone to settling.

I don’t know exactly why I am thankful for this – seeing as this now means I may be facing a lifetime of solitary Friday nights at home chugging down boxed wine and forcibly cuddling my chubby cocker spaniel – but the irritatingly eternal optimist in me trusts in the timing of my life.

On a side note, true to my word, I hadn’t lurked Mr. B’s Facebook profile since I publicly denounced any intention of doing so, until a few days ago. Two observations that give me hope:

  1. I no longer get the “kicked-in-the-stomach” feeling when I see the smug bastard’s face.
  2. The hairline continues to recede at an alarming rate. And they say there’s no such thing as karma…

Hope all of you, my lovely WordPress family, has been doing well as of late. Looking forward to catching up on everyone’s blogs and beginning to update all of you on my own happenings.

Current Status: obsessing over Downton Abbey / nesting on my couch / cooking lentils which will inevitably turn out mushy and inedible

The six-month mark.

Today officially marks the six-month mark of Mr. B walking out of my life, leaving me buried in a mountain of snotty kleenex and shattered dreams.

The past six months have been a mixed bag of highs and lows.

I have drunk more merlot than any functioning human being with a day job should be able to do; permanently stained countless pillow cases with mascara tears (note to self: invest in waterproof version); drafted dozens of scathing letters that never got mailed and made up a plethora of revenge fantasies that typically include me nonchalantly running into Mr. B with my new boyfriend. Liam Hemsworth. (I never said they were realistic.)

On the flip side, I have solidified some of the most important relationships in my life; ridden on the back of a bicycle at 2 a.m. down the streets of London laughing until I cried; watched the sun set over the breathtaking red landscape of the Grand Canyon; danced the night away with an Ed Sheeran look-alike under the Eiffel Tower and generally opened myself up to experiences I would have previously turned down in lieu of Skype dates and pining over my long-distance douchebag.

Most importantly, I’ve taken a step back and completely re-evaluated my life. Though initially very painful to let go of the idea of my future with Mr. B, rebuilding my own version of what I want for my life, albeit sometimes terrifying, has also been incredibly liberating.

Big changes/updates coming up. Some I am looking forward to sharing with you over the next few weeks, others I will surprise you with when you least expect them. *dun dun dun*

Stay tuned!

“All great changes are preceded by chaos.”

Current Status: marathon watching Dragon’s Den / OD’ing on green tea  / mourning the dissolution of Bennifer

The three-month mark: Tips for surviving a breakup.

As I triumphantly glide past the three-month mark of the complete and utter mindfuck (excuse my French, failed me here) that turned me into a ramen-eating, merlot-chugging, internet-sobbing shell of a human being, I feel like I am in the position to finally impart some wisdom upon those who may be going through a similar experience.

1) Block his social media accounts.
Facebook. Email. iMessage. Block this dangerous trifecta. And if your ex is a social media maven, throw Twitter, Instagram and LinkedIn in there. This is perhaps the most important piece of advice I can give to anyone who is going through a breakup. If you know there is no chance of reconciliation, walk away with your head up high and block off any means of contact.

Your ex isn’t going to give you closure; closure is something you find within yourself. And it’s definitely not going to be given to you in 140 characters
or less.

2) Delete the man’s number.
In my worst moments after the breakup, I had to restrain myself from texting Mr. B a string of profanities I would have later (or more likely, instantly) regretted. Don’t give the asshole the satisfaction. He no longer exists. Be a classy bitch. Make him wonder why he never hears from you again.

3) Immerse yourself in a new hobby.
Belly dancing? Yoga? Animal caricatures? Bemoaning your woes and spilling your heart out to your 300 new WordPress friends? Whatever. Throw yourself into something new. Turn a negative into a positive. After years of not writing, I found the words spilling out of me after my breakup. Get stubborn. Use this as an opportunity to really do something that you may not have considered getting around to while you were in your relationship. I get so much satisfaction in knowing that some of my best writing would never have come to fruition if it had not been for my brush with Mr. B.

4) Surround yourself with family and friends.
These people are your lifeline. Your safety net. Your sanity. Don’t shut them out and try and suffer alone. Let them spoon feed you oatmeal, refill your rapidly depleting kleenex supply and ensure your wine is glass is always full. Talk it out. You will learn about your loved ones’ own heartbreaks when you’re ready to stop sobbing. Newsflash: They all made it through. If your mom hadn’t survived her first heartbreak, your fine ass probably wouldn’t be here! You will slowly begin to realize that heartbreak is a universal emotion. Though painful, your story is not unique. Take a strange sense of comfort in this.

5) Get your ass moving.
I’m not saying you have to become a Crossfit fanatic (seriously, please don’t), but once you’ve crawled out of bed, get those endorphins pumping. Take your neglected pooch for a long walk or turn on your favourite bad bitch playlist and take a long run. Nobody ever regrets exercise. Nobody ever regrets looking like a goddess the next time she bumps into her ex.

6) Don’t rebound.
Trust in the timing of your life. Don’t force yourself into someone else’s arms just because it temporarily eases the pain. Handle your shit; tough it out alone. Rebounding is selfish if the other person genuinely cares about you, and painful if you somehow end up dating another asshole. Lose, lose. There is a common misconception that being alone equates to being lonely; this is simply not true. Learn to be an independent bitch, and when the timing is right, you will be that much more attractive to someone worthy of being your bae.

The anal retentive part of me feels the need to round this list out to 10, but the newly budding zen part of me is letting it go. I will be writing more regularly moving forward and am looking forward to providing updates on my Me-Mantras and 2015 Bucket List!

Current Status: channeling my inner Yoda / regretting the mound of Easter chocolate in my belly / binge watching The Mindy Project Season 3 (thank you, Netflix)