My boyfriend tells me I shouldn’t think about all these events as piling up on top of each other,
but rather as individual obstacles
to overcome…
individually.
And I agree to a degree...
But there’s a little piece of me
lingering
that thinks he’s absolutely absurd.
This is the little voice that once boomed within me like a fog horn coming through a megaphone.
As of recently, though,
that voice has shrunk to the point that it sounds like it’s recovering from a tracheotomy performed as a result of lung and throat cancer.
Which isn’t far off from the truth, I suppose.
I quit smoking.
It’s been about five or six months..
to be honest,
it’s easier when you’re not counting the days.
IN the last five or six months though,
I’ve noticed that my panic attacks have become less frequent;
my window of tolerance has increased ten-fold;
and I’ve been able to look at things through a more positive lens.
It is in no small part due to the therapy and self-work I’ve been doing over the years,
and although I’d like to take all the credit for the progress,
I truly don’t think I’d be this far along without my support system.
(the very thing I moved back from Vancouver for,
now that I think about it)
So what IS going on, you ask?
Well,
during the holidays,
Dirtbag Sally,
(aka my 2003 Jeep Liberty,)
took a turn for the worst.
Thankfully, my mechanic was able to give her a second wind.
But,
there was no guarantee how long that wind would keep her sailing.
I was walking on egg shells around the old girl!
The days of road trips to the cottage were officially a thing of the past;
I took her to work
and back,
praying she wouldn’t give out on me in the middle of an intersection on Bathurst St.
Without any savings,
or good credit,
there was no way I could replace her.
Which would mean I would have to leave my job.
♥
Getting the nannying gig was conditional on my having a vehicle.
When I started, I had Bertha,
my Grandad's 2001 Dodge Ram.
Needless to say,
using a pick up truck with an extended cab was not ideal for running errands and taxiing kids around the city,
so I had to let her go.
That’s when Sally came into the picture.
I called her Dirtbag Sally because her previous owners -
construction workers -
left her in pretty rough shape.
And by that I mean,
the vehicle was absolutely filthy.
Like, layers of literal dirt on all surfaces.
But I bought her for $500,
and she was all mine.
Plus, I love breathing new life into old stuff.
Just take a look at the furniture in my apartment, for example.
Most of it was either found on the side of the road or came into my possession second hand.
I assumed a pretty big risk with Sally,
she could have been nothing more than a handful of headaches,
but I had a good feeling about her.
And I’d say,
putting 40,000km on her in 20 months,
the old girl did pretty good.
♥
So,
with Sally on the fritz,
I gave my notice.
We agreed on a six week grace period, during which, they would look for my replacement,
and I would look for a new job.
To be honest,
the maintenance, repairs, gas, parking, insurance…
it was killing me financially.
It was all I could do just to keep my job and stay afloat.
Between Sally, and rent,
there wasn’t much left for anything else,
and I’d been contemplating making this move for a few months.
Turns out,
the universe was listening.
“You don’t have the courage to make this leap on your own?
Alright then, I’ll do it for you.”
*Cue Sally’s rapid decline.
♥
I had come to terms with the fact that anytime within the next six weeks,
I’d be out of a job.
What I wasn’t prepared for,
was the text message from my mom that said
“I just got home from work and some guy came with a package for you that I had to sign for.”
The photos that followed were of documents from the Ontario Superior Court of Justice
stating that Her Majesty the Queen in Right of Canada as Represented by the Minister of National Revenue
was coming to collect her debt.
I got served -
because I hadn’t been making payments on my OSAP -
and now I would be sued.
I literally laughed out loud. Like,
a solid belly laugh.
They say bad things happen in threes don’t they?
Jeep, job, Justice.
“I can handle this,”
I thought, optimistically.
Believe it or not,
I had been wondering if I should just bite the bullet and file for bankruptcy for a few weeks by that point.
I was ready for a fresh start with my finances,
no matter the consequences.
I guess the universe was listening to that little prayer too.
As it would turn out,
I am in fact not eligible for bankruptcy,
So I settled on a proposal.
♥
I almost King Kong’d the Staples fax machine while filing my defence,
but I made friends with the lady on the other side of the plexiglass window
and made it out of the courthouse alive.
With this one now added to the mix,
I am currently awaiting three court dates.
The existing two from driving infractions.
One which I posted openly about on social media:
caught driving with cell phone in hand;
the other which I have yet to share:
driving with an expired sticker.
It was due to be renewed in July,
but I had a 407 bill and a long list of parking tickets to pay off before I could do so.
Needless to say,
I still have a 407 bill and long list of parking tickets to pay off.
Fun fact:
parking tickets cannot be included in a proposal.
So I will be chipping away at that debt
alongside the total decided upon by the proposal.
♥
I have opted to apply for employment insurance because
A) I have spent the last two and a half years paying into it, and
B) the last two times I found myself unemployed and looking for work,
I was desperate.
Both times, I took the first thing that was offered to me,
and both times I took jobs that neither propel me forward in an industry I’d like to advance in,
nor bring me any kind of joy or job satisfaction.
Sure, I enjoy some aspects of the hospitality industry,
but truth be told, the last job I took in that field,
I knew would consistently trigger my PTSD
and result in more frequent panic attacks.
But I did it.
Because it was easier to say yes than to say no.
A theme I am no stranger to in my life.
And sure I love the fact that I spend most of my work day with two big fluffy dogs who love me unconditionally,
but with as much freedom and flexibility I have been afforded in this line of work,
is an equal amount of restraint and restriction
from doing the things that do bring me joy and satisfaction.
So this time I want to be empowered.
I -
CAPITAL “I” -
want to be in charge this time.
I don’t want to take the first thing that’s offered to me out of fear and desperation;
I want to look for a job with the confidence that I am an asset to their team.
Not that I should be so lucky to have been offered the job,
but that they should be so lucky to have me.
I want to look for a job from a place of power.
So that I can ask for the things I need from my employer,
like work-life balance,
will they allow me to go on auditions, take acting jobs,
come in early and stay late so that I can come in late and leave early.
Do they treat their employees with kindness and respect,
is the commute manageable for me,
is there an office dress code,
will I feel comfortable there,
is there room for advancement,
will I be micromanaged,
will I be set up for success…
Will I be happy?
I refuse to take another job that will stifle my ability to pursue creative endeavours.
It’s been long enough;
I have sacrificed enough;
and I have had more than enough.
It is time to start listening to my heart and my body
and to be calculating about what I say yes and no to.
After spending two and a half years screaming “NO” at a couple of dogs,
I have become a lot more comfortable with the word,
and I intend to use it.
♥
At this point, I’d like to say thank you for reading this far.
I always write these things more for myself than anyone else,
and I’m often surprised to hear that someone has actually taken the time to read one of these posts in it’s entirety.
If you follow me on social media,
you’re probably aware that two of my band members have also left the band.
With Mike working evenings and Joe moving to Oakville,
getting everyone together for rehearsals was a bit of a nightmare.
I love and appreciate them both with all of my heart,
but alas,
the show must go on!
So Daniel -
the bassist, my boyfriend -
and I
will continue making the record we intended to,
just with a variety of different musicians;
and in time, we’ll find new permanent fixtures to share the stage with,
when it’s time to go out on the road and promote said album.
♥
As of writing this,
my last panic attack was on January 28th;
the anniversary of my dad’s passing.
It’s two weeks later and I can’t even remember the events leading up to it.
I can’t remember what triggered it,
just that I wiped the tears from my face,
went in to the Canadian Blood Services Clinic,
donated blood,
left,
and the tears came right back with a vengeance.
I smoked some weed -
a lot of weed -
passed out,
and woke up to Daniel barging into my room.
I was supposed to go to his house after grabbing a few things from my place.
But I was distraught,
distressed,
and depressed.
And I just wanted to shut the world off.
So I did,
without notifying anyone,
and causing some serious panic in someone I love.
In retrospect,
I needed him more that day than I was willing to admit,
to him, or to myself.
I’m still learning to ask for help in my most vulnerable of states,
and I’m still learning how to look at life optimistically,
the way I did when I was a kid.
But the important thing is that I never stop trying.
Thinking positive is like quitting smoking:
it’s hard,
and there are bound to be plenty of mishaps along the way,
but the important thing is that you never stop trying.
So, although it may seem like things are falling apart all around me,
the way I see it,
the universe has my back.
She is making decisions for me that I didn’t have the courage to make for myself.
She is presenting me with opportunities I never could have imagined for myself,
big and small,
so that all I have to do is reach out and grab them.
She has tested me,
time and time again,
and now she is rewarding me.
Now she is saying,
“you have earned it,”
you deserve it,
you are entitled to it,
as long as you believe it.”
♥
