Life of V

The journey from being broken to being queen

Revised Bucket List

Making changes in my life means making a plan. And then throwing away that plan and coming up with plan b, c, d, e… Taking a goal and breaking it down into smaller goals, means people who like to make lists are going to have a good time (check) and it seems a lot more manageable when you break something down into steps so you can see it through.

With that, I’m starting my new plan. When asked to write the narrative to my ideal life, it was an eye opener. What do I want to do? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? WHAT DO I WANT? *cue existential crisis*

Relax Vic. You got this.

I want to be happy, healthy, and loved, just like everyone else in the world.

A life full of experiences, instead of objects. A life full of knowledge, instead of regrets. I wanna live!

I’ve started bucket lists before. I used to think that if the list was completed, I’d be happy. Turns out, I want that list to be unfinished. Simply because if I cross off everything on my bucket list, it means I’m dead. I will keep adding, and keep crossing off. Exploring all my options, and choosing the ones that work for me and give me joy. Can I get a hallelujah?

So here it goes, the start of the latest bucket list. In no particular order. Subject to change. First draft. To be continued…

  1. Write a book.
  2. Declutter my life. (Complete a declutter challenge. Why is everything a challenge? BECAUSE EVERYTHING IS HARD)
  3. Run my own business.
  4. Ride in a hot air balloon.
  5. Act in a play
  6. Learn to sing
  7. Learn to play an instrument
  8. Finish my degree.
  9. Travel the world.
  10. Figure out how to work a crown into an office casual look. 😉

Life Traps And Setting Myself Free

So, like many people, I am currently in therapy. I am in a program that helps me identify the events in my life that have shaped my core beliefs and coping skills, and gives me tools to help myself react better to these issues to resolve them more healthily.  Healthfully? In a more healthful manner. Yes.

Here is what I have learned:

  1. I have trust issues. Surprise! I share everything and nothing, because I literally don’t know which way to go. Things are gonna even out.
  2. I am my own worst enemy, but things are making a lot more sense as to how I got that way. And I can fix it.
  3. My sense of defectiveness and being broken is not deserved, nor is it accurate. I’m fucking delightful.
  4. My self deprecating humour is a defense mechanism, and I gotta cut that shit out. I’m bullying myself and that’s like punching myself in the face asking myself why I’m hitting myself.
  5. I cannot control what happens, but I can control how I deal with it. What used to work doesn’t work anymore, and I really need to make a change in order to grow and move forward.
  6. I am stronger than I give myself credit for.

I’m changing my behaviour. Ever heard the term “fake it ’til you make it”? Well, that’s how it starts. I have to tell myself the opposite of what I’ve told myself for the last 34 years. You are worthy. You are loved. You are wonderful. Mantras. You can do it! It’s the journey, not the destination (we all die anyway). That last one needs a little work.

I want to make sure my journey isn’t all about the struggle. Because while the struggle is real, so are the victories. So, I’m setting myself free. Free to share and live without having my anxiety take over and keep me trapped inside my own mind.

It’s the first step that’s a doozy, eh?


2018: Off to a Roaring Start

Hello friends,

This week has been… eventful. Well, only one day, but I’ve spent the rest of the time just trying to catch up.

I tried a ballet class on Sunday night. It was for beginners, and I thought, hey, I love ballet. What a great way to get into shape maybe. About 50 people showed up for the class and the teacher, bless her heart, said she didn’t want to discourage anyone from trying ballet, so she made an attempt to accommodate everyone. Turns out, I need a beginner beginner’s class, and my ankle and foot injuries from the last couple of years immediately said “oh, I don’t think so bitch”. That many people in the studio, I began to have a panic attack, and I was by the far wall away from the doors, so limping out and escaping without everyone watching me was impossible. I know that you’re going to say “well, who cares if they’re watching? who cares if they see you?”, yah, I know. I was frozen in fear and I ended up just watching the class for the last 20 minutes and trying not to cry. So, no ballet for me. At least not yet.

I did not like what I saw in those studio mirrors. I had such a hard time with even the most basic of movements. I was about as graceful as intoxicated donkey wearing roller skates. Picture that for a second. I used to be so light on my feet. Fit and strong. Now I’m an intoxicated donkey on roller skates. My how the mighty have fallen. It was a wake up call.

On a higher note, Chad had a nice warm bubble bath waiting for me when I came home from the dance class. He heated the bathroom with a little space heater, made it all steamy and lit a eucalyptus Scentsy. Lavender bubble bath and the perfect temperature to wash away my panic and anxiety. Topped it off with a cup of peppermint tea. He sat in the bathroom with me and let me cry and was just… there. I kinda love that guy. He’s pretty great. I’m gonna keep him 🙂

On Monday, Chad and I were about to head out to run some errands, when I thought I could hear water in the walls. It didn’t sound like the people upstairs running their shower or anything like the sounds we were used to (sound proofing ain’t great here). As soon as I called the landlords to report it, the building alarms went off. Aaaaaaand the water started in our apartment. It was running down the walls, leaking from the window frames, filling up the light fixtures (thankfully, they cut power to the building), and gushing from the sprinklers, but not through the sprinkler system… through the ceiling. A burst pipe near the roof filled the upstairs apartment with water (and the tenants were at work) and then began to seep through the ceiling and walls into our apartment. Chad and I spent the next four hours switching buckets under waterfalls spilling from the lights and sprinklers, and changing towels up against the walls, tossing bucketfuls of water over the balcony, because it was just coming in too fast to toss down our drains. Now there are fans and a giant dehumidifier in our rooms, and we’re almost dry. And none of our belongings were seriously damaged, because we frantically rearranged our apartment to save our precious junk 🙂

By the time the building managers got into the apartment upstairs to assess the damage, it was already too late for that apartment. So much damage. I feel very bad for them because they moved just a few months ago from another apartment in our building… one that had flooded on the first floor. They just can’t win.

I snapped right into action, grabbing buckets, towels, and even somehow starting a Facebook live video right in the middle of it all. I documented everything, because I had a feeling it would come in handy down the road. We’re probably going to have to be moved into another apartment at some point. There’s major repairs to be done. It was a tense, anxiety filled day, and I only cried once. And that was because I got a face full of dirty smelly water and it was gross. I deserved to shed a few tears. I smelled like wet drywall. Chad and I didn’t stop until the water finally stopped, after 4 hours of sopping up giant puddles and bailing buckets of water, moving furniture, electronics, and trying to keep Sonny from freaking the hell out. What. A. Day. I find it somewhat amusing that when the shit really hits the fan, when I really should be panicking, I don’t. In times when I should be relaxed and calm, my brain somehow convinces me that my situation is dire. WTF brain?

Yesterday, Chad and I were dead tired. So, we gave ourselves a day to just rest and recover from all of that. Once it was all over, our bodies released some of that tension that we had pent up throughout Monday’s fight, and we were both so so so sore.

Today I got a call from Mental Health, letting me know that I’ve been registered in one of the 10 week programs to help me manage my depression and anxiety. And it starts almost right away. I called back to confirm my space, and I’m looking forward to January 18. The journey continues.



34 – Saving myself from myself

I turned 34 years old yesterday.


It has affected me differently than I anticipated. I guess I thought I would be a different person by this age. But then again, I should have figured out that I wasn’t going to follow a regular path in life.

I have a lot of things to work through in the coming year, then perhaps by 35, I will recognise myself a little better.

I have started my journey again with mental health services, am trying medications (that in itself is a journey) to see if we can’t calm things down a bit so I can get my footing under me and move forward. It started off on a sour note, but I guess I can get over that. I want to be stronger, live my life instead of simply existing, and I think the connections I am making through mental health services, I can learn where to focus my healing so it gets easier to take on the day.

I fell into kind of a rut this December, and I’m both embarrassed by it and frustrated that I fell back into that trap. I feel the need to worry endlessly about the worst case scenario in every situation, no matter how relaxed the atmosphere. I don’t enjoy the things I used to enjoy because I’m a tensed up ball of anxiety and overwhelming sadness and emotions I don’t know how to identify let alone express. I can’t describe how numbing and exhausting this circus is.

I’ve been told that New Year’s is the worst time to make resolutions, because you won’t stick to them or something blah, blah, blah. Everything has kind of conveniently converged at this time frame for me, so I guess I’m going to make some New Year’s Resolutions.

  1. Learn how to communicate my feelings without alienating anyone.
  2. Learn to treat myself like I would treat other people. It has been mentioned to me more than once that I talk down to myself, berate myself when something goes wrong, basically treat myself like a lesser person, all things I would never do to another human being…
  3. Have conversations with people about my anxiety and depression. It’s not going to just go away because I have read a few chapters and do a few exercises involving writing letters that will never be sent or meditating and focusing on breathing for a few minutes a day. This shit is exhausting to try and work through on your own. Having people who are willing to listen and help me figure it out is a blessing I do not intend to take for granted.
  4. Have conversations with people about something other than my anxiety and depression. The last few months have been particularly shitty for me. I have had a lot of people reach out and I am so grateful. They have helped me heal and grow. I am looking forward to brighter topics with these people in 2018.
  5. Do more fun things with my friends and family. I spent much of 2017 in hermit mode. I have a lot of things to deal with , but I want to make 2018 the year of not hiding away. I expect this one will be one of the hardest resolutions for me.

I think that’s a good starting point. Baby steps, as they say. My mental health worker can already see it in me. I asked her why she didn’t just give me a copy of the workbook from which she was giving me chapters. She said it was because she knew I’d read it all in a day and try to do everything at once and basically short circuit. I guess I’m pretty easy to read, eh?


There are many things in my life that depression does not let me see. I tend to focus on the negative, and has clouded the positive so it stays hidden. Ignored. While I was growing up, I felt ignored, overlooked, forgotten by everyone unless I was needed for some reason. Lonely. Even when surrounded by people. Those people felt like more foes than friends.

So I built the wall.

Sometimes it crumbled a bit. Sometimes it fell. But I always rebuilt it. Because I felt like I was surrounded by enemies. I needed to build a fortress. I stopped letting people in. That left me alone with my own worst enemy.


I am almost 34 years old. I have fought my own mind for so many years, I’m not even really sure if I’ve ever been any other way. I don’t remember. But that could be my mind being a dick.

I guess I should consider myself lucky. I’m now aware of my battle. There are some people who are in a war and don’t even know it. I think that used to be me. Hindsight is not always 20/20. I wear glasses. Blind as a bat without them. Ignorant to my fight, I thought I was just a miserable worthless cunt. (sorry if you hate that word) I thought I deserved every betrayal. I thought I was just destined to be alone, and unhappy, just used by others until I wasn’t needed anymore. I thought that was just my life.

After several recent discussions with doctors, we’ve come to the conclusion that mom’s death caused PTSD, and on top of the depression and anxiety I was already carrying, everything came to a head, and I crashed. Hard. More than once. And these… angels… in my life, swooped in and surrounded me. Chad, my friends, my coworkers, people from throughout my walks of life who never gave up on me, even though I had a hard time seeing it (sorry guys, sometimes I’m not too observant). So many people reached out to offer support and encouragement and help, I was overwhelmed. I thought I was alone in the world. Cast aside. Unnoticed. Unwanted. Well, I guess I was wrong.

I am damaged. It’s true. I have a hard time expressing my thoughts and feelings, because I’ve been so guarded for so long. I push I am trying. I don’t always succeed, but when I do, it’s pretty awesome. I’ve felt misunderstood for so long, when thoughts and emotions come through crystal clear, I treasure those moments, even even they leave me crying and blubbering.

I still hide a lot. I am not winning the fight at the moment. These past few weeks have been rough on me. My depression anxiety has led me to stress leave, again. I am not taking care of myself. I am trying, but I keep failing. I’m just… exhausted. I’m on a waiting list to get in to see a counselor or therapist with city mental health, and the doctors I’ve been seeing have changed my prescription, and have encouraged more exercise and hobbies, something simple like going for short walks or reading a book or baking. And I try, I can manage something for a day, and then I crumple into exhaustion all over again. Even baking is exhausting for me right now. And it’s my FAVOURITEST THING EVER. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m going to keep trying things, and hope that something works, but I feel like the idiot doing the same things over and over and expecting different results.

For today, I am going to limit myself to cooking a turkey and the fixin’s. I can handle that today. I might start to cry at some point during the preparation, that seems to happen pretty much every day these days. But I’ve accepted that and am drinking more water to compensate. It’s just part of who I am at the moment. I can’t help how I feel.

I can help how I react and communicate. My mother taught me to be grateful for the things that I have, and work toward the things I don’t have yet. While all this is going on inside me, I am still grateful for many things. I am grateful for Chad and my friends, far and wide, who let me know they’re thinking of me and are there for me if ever I need someone. My family, who have my best interests at heart, and help me chase the ducks who keep getting out of line. Sonny, who is an endless source of fluffy cuddles and entertainment and companionship. For my sense of humour, which I use to get myself out of pretty much any tense situation. Most of my situations are tense these days, so the self-depreciating humour is on point. I am grateful that I can look in the mirror anytime and see my mother’s face. And my grandmother’s face. It’s freaky. But it’s also awesome.

I am also grateful it’s Sunday and now that I’ve poured my heart out into blog, I’m tired and can take a nap.

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