The Power of Choice

Driving home last night to my favorite radio program called “Intelligence for Your Life”, I heard something remarkable. It went like this:

“The more choices we have, the more likely we are to sample more things.”

The host had been talking about a study that was conducted that proved that people ate up to 40% more at restaurants with longer menus.

This got me thinking about the place I used to be in my life where I felt that, for some reason, I had no choices. And I surely didn’t only mean food. Romantically, I felt my choices were limited. I felt that my options for my future were limited. I felt that financially, I would be stuck where I was. I felt very confined.

Over time, I opened myself up to the reality that the world is pretty big, and that the world is pretty much mine and I grew to realize and understand that there are choices everywhere.

When I first started dating, my logic was that if I always dated someone who was not as smart as me, not as good looking as me, and not as accomplished as I was, that I wouldn’t have to compete against other women and my position in his life would be secured.

For the longest time, I would date guys with criminal records, guys that already had a kid, and guys who didn’t work. I felt that because I had what they didn’t (except for the children), that they would appreciate me more.

The funny thing about men and humans in general, is that we are not programmed like that.

In fact, things worked the opposite way.

Because I was a little farther ahead than them, they used me and my resources to try and catch up. They weren’t trying to better themselves, they just wanted to reap the rewards of things they might not ever see without doing the work I had done. They wanted to be driven around in my car without having one of their own, use my money for things because they had none, have me babysit their child while they would do I don’t know what.

At some point in time, I got sick of it all.

I didn’t throw my hands up in the air and hate the rest of the world. I didn’t look at it as time wasted, or money wasted, even though there were times the money I spent on them would have come in handy. I didn’t hate these men, and I surely didn’t hate myself.

I realized there was more out there for me.

So I heightened my standards. I raised the bar so high that it may have been a little bit above me.

The thing is, if you don’t acknowledge your worth, and state that over and over again relentlessly, whether it’s out loud or in your head or to your friends or your potential partners, you will always get less than 

what you deserve.

The worst part is that you’ll be living in this crazy mental state where you can actually convince yourself you’re happy, but deep down inside the honest part of you is wondering why you’re selling yourself short.

I know there are a ton of people, young and old, black and white, who have either been in my situation, or are still in my situation. And I know that you wake up in the morning and feel a disparity between the love you have in your heart for your partner, and the love you want to have for your partner, that not even the crazy mental state can fake.

I know that you hear your own voice in your head saying, “I deserve better” everytime you get in an argument and they say something a little too mean, or slam the door in your face yet again.

And you know what? That voice in your head is right.

But for some reason, you won’t leave. You can’t leave. You feel like you’re in too deep. You have too many pictures together on social media and you don’t want everyone to know you broke up. Or, quite simply, you feel like you’re better off semi-happy with this person because you’re not sure there is more out there for you.

Please rethink that.

Ultimately, every second of your life is a time to be critical and a time to evaluate your choices. Because every second of your life you spend pleasing someone else at the cost of your own happiness is detrimental to your overall well-being and your overall experience of what it means to truly live.

The more you open yourself up to love, the more abundantly it comes to you.

What that means is, when you open your mind, heart, and soul up to love, it comes in your direction and flows through your body because you are able to receive it. It’s more than someone just saying, “I love you” just enough to get you to believe it, but letting their actions create doubt and fear in your mind and heart that it isn’t true.

Actions speak louder than words.

The thing is…we have this idea that the only love that exists is romantic love. So not true.

There is love everywhere.

Have you ever seen the greeting an owner gets from their dog after a long day at work? That's love. Have you ever seen the way a newborn looks at their mother while being breastfed? That's love.

All of these things are reminders that love exists, love is real, and love is waiting for you. But the kind of love you desire won’t come until you’re ready, and maybe even a bit after. Because you still need to spend time loving yourself. And over time you will.

Not in a narcissistic way, but in a way that you truly grow to understand why that voice in your head was telling you that you deserve better. You will even grow to believe that. And in time, you will respect yourself so much more for gathering the strength to walk away.

Ironically enough, sometimes the kind of love we experience can hold us back from the kind of love we should experience. Instead of opening the world up, it closes it, and leaves us with nowhere to turn, and no beautiful scenery to look at.

As short as life is, it’s also very long. And you don’t want the balcony that overlooks the garbage dumps at the bottom of your run-down apartment building. You want to overlook the water and have a city view. Don’t just settle for the unit because the landlord tells you there are no other units available.

You tell that landlord that you’ll find another building.

Having an abundance of choices does nothing if you do not have the strength to choose something other than what you've always chosen, or date someone different than who you've always dated. And you will never, ever know how good something on the menu tastes if you are too afraid to order it.

But the best part of all of this is that if you don't like it, you can send it back to the kitchen and order something else. You can ask the chef to make your dish a special way. And even then, if that chef says no, you can leave the restaurant and cook your own damn dish...

In your apartment that overlooks the water and has the city view.  

5 Steps to Surviving a Break Up and Actually Healing

A break up is never easy.

Well, maybe sometimes. But let’s be honest. Not every case is the same as Blu Cantrell’s “Hit ‘Em Up Style”, or Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive”.

Having been through more than enough break ups, temporary break-a-parts, break up to make ups, and the list goes on and on, I have discovered a foolproof formula that makes the whole process a lot less difficult.

Well, for me anyway. But who else’s perspective would I be writing from anyway?

Breakups are twofold. The first component is the difficulty in detaching ourselves from someone that we’ve molded ourselves and our lives to fit. Hence it can be much more difficult to separate from someone you’ve spent years with over someone you’ve only spent a few months with.

But still, there is difficulty in each.

The second component, perhaps even more difficult than the first, is the public becoming aware of that breakup, and asking all the questions that we hate to be asked, and hate, even more so, to answer.

It sounds shallow, but let’s face it. We live in the Twitter generation and the Instagram era. Pictures get removed, comments go away, the tweets stop coming, and the creeping never stops. But allowing yourself to get bogged down and tied up in this pattern is exactly what makes the process so difficult, so tiring, and sadly, so hurtful.

Here is my remedial recipe on how to get through a break up, distance yourself from the hurt, grow closer to yourself, and even rediscover a new happiness.

Purge to accept

It’s ironic that I list this as the first step and rarely ever is it actually the first thing that happens. This is the stage where you let it all out. If you feel like screaming, you scream, if you feel like crying, you sob, and if you feel like laying still, you lay still.

This stage is especially important because it is the first sign of acceptance for whatever has transpired. This is the storm before the calm where you come to terms with what is, and especially with what is not. This is where you get angry and punch pillows. This is where you sing all your breakup songs and cry and sing a boogery and snotful song until you fall asleep. The best part about this? The new day that awaits you.

Clean your room

Fast forward to that new day. There is often the misconception that the new day is the day after the split.

Wrong.

That new day can take days, weeks, and depending on the severity of the case, months to come. All that means is that you have an extended purge period, and your new day will be even brighter.

Cleaning your room is extremely symbolic. It is a cleanse of all the clutter, memories, good or bad, and just stuffthat once removed, allows you more room for new things, and new people to enter your life.

I firmly believe that one’s room is an exact depiction of their life and personality. (You should see the things I have on my walls) Do you ever find that after a long weekend of partying and no sleep, your room is just a disaster? Or those days where you feel completely in control, your room is spic and span?

Connect the dots.

You want to have a space that has, well, space! Make it an enjoyable task. Get down and dirty, scrub your floors, carpets, dig underneath your bed.

Reinvent your room, reinvent yourself.

Find a hobby

Love this part. Mind you it, like purging, can make an appearance at any point of the process. Nonetheless, it is as simple as staying busy. Only recently have I recognized how crazy the concept of boredom is. I mean think about it. The fact that we scroll through our feeds and timelines whenever we get bored, which over the course of a day, can add up to more than one hour, is nuts.

The most magnificent part of this stage is that it requires you to open your eyes and recognize the vastness of your surroundings, your city, and if you ever get there, your world. Join a class, volunteer, start a new book and tell yourself to finish it by the end of the month, book yourself a ticket and go somewhere.

The more time you spend being productive, the less time you have to think about unproductive things. There is a lot out there. Go and discover.

Create a playlist

Ever watch a movie and realize how much the music affects the experience? The same goes for your life. One of my first blog posts, “The 8 Simple Steps to Happiness”, included a step that demanded that you carefully choose the music you listen to.

During such a sensitive time, it is essential that you use all the resources possible to find strength, or at least substitute it.

Personally, I’d be nowhere without Kelly Clarkson and Celine Dion, and not her slow stuff. I’m talking about her songs “I’m Alive”, and “A New Day Has Come”. The titles alone are enough to pick someone up.  

Create your playlist, play it as often as possible. And don’t forget to dance.

Spend time alone

Who spends time alone after a break up? I do. And here’s why.

Right after a break up, the feeling of isolation and loneliness can be so hard to escape. Oddly enough, one of the best ways to rid yourself of those feelings is to immerse yourself in your own company. Sounds strange right? The trick is to change the purpose.

A lot of times we’re alone because no one’s home, our friends aren’t around, we’re not meeting up with them yet, etc. But how often are we alone because we want to be?

One of the best opportunities a break up can present you with is the opportunity to begin to enjoy your own company. This is an opportunity that must be seized. Spending time alone is important because it’s crucial that we find comfort, enjoyment, and most of all fulfillment in solitude.

Once we learn how to depend on ourselves for the things we once depended on someone else to do, be it the lover that left, or the friend we no longer speak to, our need to have others around decreases. Not to the extent that we become hermits, but to the extent that if they’re there, they’re there, if they’re not, they’re not.

Through it all, we must remain whole.

I would like to remind you, at this point, and perhaps this is also a reminder to myself, that the end of someone being in your life should never mean the end of you.

And never, should it ever, mean the end of your happiness.

Don’t beat yourself up because you felt down for a bit. Don’t get confused if you find yourself wanting and needing someone that you promised yourself you wouldn’t. We are human, and this is a part of the human condition.

But…

We are also super humans. And part of that means acceptance. Part of that means allowing our emotions to run freely, but not letting them take over us. And the very last part is rediscovering the happiness and peace that we initially sought after, not from beginning the relationship, but from being born.

We are all after something. For some, it’s wealth. For some, it’s success. For some, it’s fame. But behind all of those things lie the desire to be happy, and the desire to be at peace. These are things we cannot find if we constantly allow the arrival and departure of others to vary our ability to pursue the things that we want.

Think of it like this. In the heart of Toronto, you will find Union station. There is often construction going on 

outside of the building, and hundreds of trains come and go to different parts of the city, different parts of Canada, and even into the United States. It is quite busy.

Yet still, if you look at the structure of the building, it is what it was years and years ago. It hasn’t moved, it hasn’t changed, and it is just the center of exchange.

Imagine if upon every entrance, and every departure, of each passenger and of each train, the station lost a bit of their foundation. A brick would fall here, a glass would shatter here, and a stone would eject itself from the building.

In our lifetime, we will meet so many people that come, go, stay for a while, longer than we need them to, and sometimes not long enough.

Don’t lose your foundation.

Don’t be the train. Don’t be the passenger. Don’t be the construction going on outside of the building. Be the station.

And what that means is, be stationary.

If people come, they come. If people go, they go. You must accept them when they arrive, wave them off and wish them safe travels when they decide it is time to depart.

But don’t ever let your foundation falter. If you need work on different areas, let that work be done. But you must not crumble, and you must not hit the floor.

Not unless, of course, you’re just looking for an excuse to complete this five step process. Because after all, it can bring you a little farther away from the hurt. It can bring you a bit closer to your happiness. But it really, really does bring you closer to yourself. 

In any event, fall wisely.

Defeating Defeat

Today, while trying to work out yet another budget, I became overwhelmed by the expenses of everyday student life and had a silent, but deadly meltdown. I had just finished having a stressful conversation, although it was really more of a rant, with my parents about all the money I owed to my school and I listed off my concerns:

1. I had to pay back a few thousand in just a few months in order to enroll next year.

2. If it wasn’t paid in full, I would miss the courses that would allow me to go into the second half of my university career at another campus.

3. I had a trip coming up that I needed to save for.

4. I still had bills to pay in the meantime.

And on and on and on.

As the echo of the conversation became unbearable, I took a break and went surfing through my phone. I came across a photo with four squares, each containing quotes about why worrying is useless. One box said “Everything is only just inside your head. Stop worrying.” I gave myself a few minutes to let those words sink in.

While I sat back on my bed, holding back the kind of tears that come from feeling entirely helpless, I got a text message from my Dad. The text said:

“Remember Steph, I love you and we will work this out. Ok? Love, dad.”

My eyes welled with tears and began to stream down my cheek. I’ve cried thousands of times throughout my lifetime, but this time, the tears felt so different. They weren’t the tears that come from feeling sad. Or the kind that come when you’re angry. They weren’t even the tears that fall from feeling happy.

They were the kind of tears that come from having no hope in one instance, and more hope than you know what to do with in the next.

When I got that text message, I felt relieved. Something about the question mark after the “ok” made me feel like he was almost reminding me that this was no big deal. It was just a part of life that everyone goes through, but a part of life that cannot be faced, dealt with, and overcome without some sort of strength, and much less worry.

Ultimately, life doesn’t “just flow” for everyone. In fact, life doesn’t “just flow” for anyone. It is people that make life go smoothly. It is the decisions that they make, the words that they speak, and whether they take it all in stride.

It was really a case of:

“Whether you think you can or you can’t-you’re right.”

I looked at all the numbers and felt defeated, so my thoughts, actions, and words followed suit, and if there hadn’t been the intervention of that picture, paired with the text message from my Dad and my memory of Henry Ford’s quote, I truly believe I really would have been defeated and consumed by this debt, or rather, the illusion of it.

When I got back to budgeting, I broke it down monthly, then weekly. I did all the calculations I could that allowed me to live comfortably and productively. In the end, I saw that only a few minor cutbacks were needed, I would still get to go on and enjoy my trip, and by the time September came around I would be in great shape.

Henry Ford must have found himself in my exact situation, or at least one like it, when he spoke those words of wisdom and genius. Although I highly doubt that in his time, he was juggling a Rogers bill and a student loan, unless of course they had those in the early 1900s. But the fact that even one hundred years ago, these words rang true, is a testament to the power of your own thought.

That picture with four quotes about the uselessness of worrying, reminding me that “worry is a misuse of imagination” made me feel like maybe I hadn’t been imaginative enough. I should have been using my imagination to construct the scene of victory, rather than a war-torn path to bankruptcy. Instead, I clouded my own thoughts, my own imagination, with pessimism, ew!

If I were optimistic in this instance, I would’ve seen that I had the tools to help me get through this rut:

1. I got a new job that pays twice what my last job did.

2. I recently created the Gail Vaz-Oxlade budget (which I will be blogging about this sometime this week).

3. I was living rent-free.

4. I had a vacation to look forward to.

And on and on and on.

If you ever find yourself feeling defeated, which might be anywhere from a few times daily, or a few times yearly, it is up to you to defeat the feeling of defeat. Find some sort of ritual; listen to a certain song, have a good cry, get lost in an amazing book, or have a very large class of your favorite alcoholic beverage. Do something that allows you to be a stronger person for the time it takes to overcome whatever situation you find yourself in.

More than having a go-to ritual though, we have to set ourselves up for victory; mentally, physically, and emotionally-which means preparing for breakdowns such as the one I had today. The truth is; most people set themselves up for failure too easily. When we hear people tell us that we can’t do it, we believe that we can’t do it. It might not get to us at first, but after we continue to hear it, we start to believe it.

Take that and flip it. If the more we hear something, the more we believe it, then everyday we should be telling ourselves that we are winners. Everyday we should tell ourselves that we can do it. And in the case we, for some reason, cannot find it within ourselves to say the words, we should have people there to tell us what we need to hear to keep us going.

In this case, it was my Dad. It was his short text message, the thirty seconds he took to type it, and the need in my heart to hear it, which in turn allowed me to believe that yes, we will work it out.

Because everything always works out.

Yet still, we worry. Still, we get upset. We get frustrated, and we get angry. But how far can a car make it with the engine light on, the oil light on, the gas light on, and the service light on? Every piece of worry, every piece of frustration, every piece of anger, is like a light on your dashboard that needs to be turned off in order for you to run better, perform smoothly, and most of all, arrive at your destination.

If you’re going to be in the car, you really ought to think about taking the driver’s seat.

Opening Your Eyes

I often catch myself watching shows about border patrol.

I watched “Border Wars” for the first time a few weeks ago and ever since then, when I see that it, or any other show like it is on, I must watch it from start to finish.

Today, the episode was about a group of immigrants from Mexico and different parts of South America and South Asia trying to get into America. There was one guy from Sri Lanka, who had travelled for two months. He flew from Sri Lanka to Guatemala, Guatemala to Brazil, Brazil to Mexico, and then made the rest of the voyage on foot with the rest of the group.

When asked how much he paid to be smuggled into America, he said “$18,000.” The other members of the group were also asked how much they paid, and many of them said similar figures, the lowest being $10,000.

Their voyage ended in a takedown by the border patrol agents who capture immigrants seeking illegal entry into America for a living. I could not help but think about what this says about the circumstances these people face in their native countries.

After this takedown, the show featured a mother and daughter who had been left behind the group they were being smuggled into America with. The woman was from Ecuador. After finding a group of people that were headed for America, her and her daughter joined them. She told the “guide” (the person that smuggles them) that her daughter had asthma, and he assured her that they would only be walking for two hours and that they would be considerate of her. But when they finally crossed the border, the guide told her that they faced another seven or eight hours of walking ahead of them.

“I got scared,” she said. My heart broke for her.

Her daughter could not keep up. She had an asthma attack and fainted. She stopped, and the rest of the group carried on, forgetting that she and her daughter had been there in the first place. Her and her daughter wandered in the bush for two days until being picked up by border patrol, both of them with twisted ankles, empty stomachs, and broken souls.

The officials looked up her file and seen that she had been in America in October of 2002 seeking asylum. “The court process took very long, and the attorney they appointed me from the state didn’t show up. He didn’t come to see us, come to speak to us, nothing.”

The woman and her daughter were deported back to Mexico, where they had settled after being sent back from America in 2002.

I couldn’t help but feel guilty, almost, for having all that I do, while this woman and her poor, breathless daughter, had nothing. It really put things into perspective for me.

When I watched this show today, I realized that my problems, my fears, don’t exist for some people, simply because they don’t even have the resources to have such problems. 

Today, watching the news, I learned about the circumstances in Somalian refugee camps. The women face sexual and physical abuse by the people that are supposed to be providing them with asylum, the people they entrusted to help them.

One man described the story of his daughter being raped, in which he could do absolutely nothing because of the consequences he and his entire family would face. Women that are up to eight months pregnant are being raped and beaten on a daily basis.

After an 8 hour shift today, I was walking into my house and I stopped to look up at the moon. I saw that it was full and bright and covered in a beautiful mist of clouds. I couldn't help but notice how tiny I really was. The sight made me think about how small I was, how small I am, in the grand scheme of things and in the grand scheme of the world.

More than feeling small as a person, though, I thought about how small my “problems” were. I thought about how mad I got the day before when I had written a 2,000 word essay that didn’t save. I thought about how angry I was that I would have to re-write it, which really only took me less than an hour when I got home. I thought about how small my “fears” were. My fear of not passing a class, or becoming the journalist I intend to be. I’m afraid I won’t get a new car by the end of the year. I’m afraid of not having enough money. 

I’m afraid of all these things that in my eyes, are worthy of being afraid of, until I really open them and see the rest of what is out there.

Life can be a very humbling experience if we live it the right way. If we open our eyes to the things the world has to show us; the things that the world can show us, it can be a beautiful spectacle even in times of tragedy.

When I saw all the things I saw today, and learned all that I had learned, and thought about that one simple image of the moon toward the end of my night, I became fearless. I was afraid of not having enough when really, I already had everything that I needed, and believing I needed anything more was an insult to the people my mind had met that day; the Sri Lankan man that travelled for two months only to be sent back home, the woman and her daughter that got sent back to a place they fought so relentlessly to escape, and to the Somalian man and his innocent daughter who could not even fight to defend her.

The world is a big place. And as big as you think you are, as big as you think all your problems and all your fears might be, I encourage you to look up at the moon and the stars and remember all that is out there. There is a lot beyond just you. And there is a world inside of the night sky that seems empty except for the stars that scatter here and there. The sad reality is that it is the beautiful backdrop of a very ugly reality for a sickening amount of people. Luckily for you, your reality is beautiful, just like you.

This is just a simple reminder to count your blessings. Almost like you would count the stars. If they ever become hard to see, which they do sometimes, just open your eyes and look a little harder. 

They're there.

The Power of Inspiration

What an amazing weekend I had.

Today, I went and explored different parts of the beautiful city of Toronto. Something I should, and always promise to do more often, but never actually get around to it. I went on a “date”, if you will. I took the subway because it was nice outside, and abandoned my usual North American menu for food, and dined at a Pakistani restaurant instead. So willing was I, that I had no say in the food that was ordered, I just perused the menu.

I was amazed at how good the food was, and simultaneously disappointed that I had never tried it before. But I know better than to cry over the illusion of wasted time. After that, we watched the sun set over the Toronto skyline, and listened to whatever song would play next.

Last night, I spent the night with my sister at our usual Saturday night spot. A friend from high school came up to me. I see her around town sometimes, but we don’t stop and share the conversations we used to when we would both arrive at school early in the morning. She mentioned my blog, and let me know that she had been tuned in to it a lot lately after finding out that I had one. She told me that one post especially had helped her through a tough time, and that I should keep writing.

I had this exchange in mind when I saw a girl there who I owed an apology to for being catty with over a guy. I walked right up to her, apologized, and she smiled at me and said “it’s okay.” She even apologized to me too, for I have no idea what, but I raised my drink to her, and we went on with our night.

The night before that, perhaps the greatest night of my entire weekend, was spent at my good friend Sarah’s house. Every month, she has these amazing get-togethers. It is a room full of about 30 great, open, and opinionated minds, good music, and even better times. Despite the space being small, each area has its own destiny. The kitchen is usually where the meet and greets happen. The living room is for video games and dancing. The dining room is usually for board games, and if there is no board game set up then a heated debate must be going on, as it was on this day. And then there are the stairs, for people who are having deep and philosophical conversations.

I usually find myself on the stairs. Some of my greatest conversations take place on the stairs. And on this night, one of the greatest conversations I have ever had in my life took place.

I have a friend named Talia. In high school, I watched her write her heart out. She volunteered with all sorts of organizations, and her essays were always the ones the teachers used as the rubric. Needless to say, as a writer, I regard Talia with the highest and the utmost respect, so the things she said to me on this night had a special place in my heart. Talia said to me:

“I watched you start your blog. You wrote for 5 days straight on some very important topics. These weren’t rushed pieces; they were well-written, and I appreciate something that’s well-written more than I appreciate something that’s interesting. Your pieces were both.”

And then she said this:

“At first, I felt jealous. But then I thought, don’t be jealous, be inspired. And I started writing again.”

Tears fell from my eyes, but they really came from my heart. She continued on to tell me that my future was bright, that I was going places, and that I was a great writer. I felt, in that moment, that not only had I accomplished the only mission I have ever really had as a writer; to inspire, but that I was on my way. 

Everything, everyone, every single landmark I pass by is telling me that I am on my way. I have never in my life been so fulfilled, so happy, and so proud of myself, than I am right now.

When I entered Sarah’s house, my friend, my peer, Alexa said “Hello my favorite blogger!” Truthfully, I have never thought of myself as a blogger, and have surely never been called a blogger. I shied away from the term because I felt if I had imposed it on myself it would be conceited. But I left that place that night with a hunger to claim my place in this creative revolution that is taking place. More importantly, I left there with a plate full of proof in front of me that I was speaking through my writing, and people were listening.

That night, this weekend, taught me a lot about how life works.

Firstly, I learned that there are two things that come with forgiveness. The first is the forgiveness that is granted to you when you honestly seek it out, regardless of whether the person accepts your apology. 

Forgiveness isn’t about being forgiven; it’s about having the humility to ask for it. 

The second thing that comes with it is the freedom that is granted to you, within yourself, when you forgive yourself enough to ask for forgiveness. I didn’t have to apologize to this girl. We had no relationship, I had no obligation to her, and my life would have gone on without a hitch had I not apologized. But when I thought about what my friend from high school had said to me, and all the wonderful things people had said about me the night before, I felt I owed it to them to be the person they believed I could be; the person I was. And more importantly, I owed it to myself. I wanted all of my freedom; not just some.

The other thing I learned was the power of inspiration. Friday proved that great things happen when great people come together, and cumulative greatness happens through individual greatness. The amount of compliments, words, and support that was generated in the few hours Sarah’s guests spent together that night was enough to start a revolution; one I believe each of us already belong to, one that will continue to grow exponentially. Everyone took something home that night. Maybe it was a memory, maybe it was a lesson, or a new piece of knowledge, but for a lot of us, it was inspiration. When Talia said what she said to me about being inspired, I, in turn, was inspired.  

Inspiration is regenerative. It recycles itself through the hearts and the minds it resides in, and continues to spread through the hearts and minds it opens.

So to you, I say, open your heart and open your mind. Allow yourself to be changed by the different people you meet, greet, and talk to, the experiences you have and don’t have, and all that unfolds throughout your days. Be not the same person that you were today tomorrow, be a better, more beautiful, more radiant you. In turn, you will have a better, more beautiful, more radiant life.

And I promise you, you absolutely deserve it.

All You Need is Less

I just don’t care anymore.

Those words spewed out of me the other day while I walked around in circles in my room, venting in my head about all the people that had “hurt my feelings”. I felt a tear run down my cheek. I looked at myself in the mirror and looked so pathetic, crying over nonsense that I stopped immediately and was awfully disgusted with myself.

“I just don’t care anymore.” Like projectile vomit they came out again.

I had been through a lot that week. I was temporarily unemployed, I had a lot of unstable and unsteady friendships, I was recently single, and I was feeling anxious about turning one year older. My life was in limbo.

My love life was a disaster. I had returned to being the hopelessly romantic Carrie Bradshaw. Except I didn’t have the apartment in Manhattan, the sex column in the news publication, or the three friends that would catch me if I fell. I only had me. At least, I thought.

When things are up in the air like that, I don’t cope well. I prefer things to be planned properly, executed in an organized fashion, and for things to go smoothly. But for some reason, that week was just all over the place. And so was I.

Last week, though, I began working full-time. The eight hour work days, paired with my two-hour lectures at school left me with little time for, how do I word this correctly, bullshit. Essentially, I became an adult. An actual adult.

It wasn’t the long work days, the achy feet, or the mature demeanour I had to take on when I walked into my new job. It was the realization that a lot of the time I spent on bullshit was spent on bullshit because I had time for bullshit. Now, I don’t.

That was my freedom.

My Dad always told me “your gut’s full”, whenever I would cry, moan, or complain about things that didn’t deserve any attention. And like many of the things he told me growing up, it didn’t make sense until recently.

The truth is…my gut was full. I had more friends than I had time for. I had more time than I knew what to do with. And I had so much to do that I never did any of it. And because I had too much of everything, in some strange way, it left me feeling unfulfilled, and even more unappreciative.

Now, I have just enough time to really and truly enjoy it. My long days end with a glass of wine and some alone time in my room. Because my time is so limited, I don’t even dare to turn on the television.

Silence is a gift.

I write what I can, while I can. I no longer force myself to sit there and feel constipation in my brain. I just let it come naturally.

I learned that all the things that took place prior to me making my entry into “adulthood”, happened because I needed to know who and what deserved the limited time I would soon have. The people that “hurt my feelings”, hurt them because the universe was telling that they weren’t worth my efforts, my time, and surely not that one lone tear that rolled down my cheek that day.

I learned that some things just happen, and some things just change. It’s neither here nor there. It just is what it is.

The key is to minimalize your needs to a very healthy low. At some point, you will receive a wake-up call that comes at you like a bucket of ice cold water in a deep sleep. A sleep that you probably would not have awoken from, not any time soon, and it is a shame to think that you might never open your eyes to see the light, the beauty, of day.

If something happened in your life recently that has led you to wonder what it all means, you better believe it means something. It might be in your best interest to take a step back, remove yourself from all that you have going on, and ask yourself if you really need it, need them.

When I felt that my feelings were hurt, it was largely my fault for allowing my feelings to be in the hands of people that wouldn’t take care of them, of me.

When I felt that I had so much to do yet I wasn’t getting anything done, it was because I took on things I didn’t want to, or need to, I took them on just because, leaving me with no motivation whatsoever to actually do it because I didn’t want to in the first place.

If you feel that you have too little of everything, chances are you have too much. And if you're unable to appreciate it, its because sometimes, what we really need, rather, all we really need, is less.