Update 2.0

One year, one month, and three days. It has been that long since I last wrote a post. I’ve felt the urge, sure, but there’s always something holding me back. Usually lack of motivation. Sometimes I just think I don’t need it anymore. Other times I find something more interesting (but… really… the things I choose aren’t THAT interesting) to do instead and push all my feelings away.

Good news is; I’m still here. I left last time in a very dark and sad place. And I was really hurting for a while. I actually thought I had written since then, but I guess not. Most would assume that maybe I had actually done something I had planned to do which would have explained the disappearance. Sadly… for all 6 of my followers, who do not, in fact, know me and likely don’t follow that closely, I am still here. Or maybe not sadly. Depends how you see my posts, I guess. Could be disappointing, but who knows. ­čśë

Some things to catch myself up on from a year ago. Clearly, I have gotten over that huge hurdle I found myself trying to jump over. I am in an extremely better place mentally at this point, which is amazing for me. Just like back in elementary and high school, I dealt with it on my own. I didn’t need help. I didn’t need drugs that cost more than rent. I just needed to let myself sort it all out. And I did. Not to say I’m the happiest person alive, but my and myself? We’re on good terms.

Someone I’m NOT on good terms with, however, is someone who I was extremely close with. My best friend of… about 10 years. Honestly… I’m not going to dwell on this… Since October, I haven’t said more than 5 words to her. And they were said within the 5 months I still worked in the same building as her. Thank the gods for a career change. Not a great one, but that’s another story. This story is short. In retrospect, I should have kept it over years ago after England. I should have never contacted her again and apologized for doing absolutely nothing wrong. Cause… really… I didn’t do anything wrong. I realize now, after all these years, that I was used. I was only her friend when she needed me. Not when I needed her. I spent time, money, and a lot of emotions on someone who probably didn’t deserve it. She wasn’t even there for me when I considered killing myself, despite all the times I was there for her. So if that isn’t any indication of how things were, I don’t know what is.
But honestly… things just all kept adding up. Stacking on top of each other until I couldn’t carry them anymore. New boyfriends mean that she turns into the exact same person she was before and during England. And I’m surprised I didn’t see it coming, even when I told her to go for it. Because… I’m a good fucking friend. And obviously very stupid. So I snapped finally. And by snapped… I actually just closed up completely and severed all contact. One day, I just suddenly stopped talking to her. I honestly don’t even think she knows what happened, even now.
I guess… If you ever read this, Nicole… You were a shitty friend when I needed you most. Because you were yet again too sucked into a toxic fucking relationship like you always find yourself in. And when your engagement or possibly marriage (in however many years that takes to happen) fails, I won’t be there again to pick you up and help you fix yourself. I won’t be there to talk you down and bring you back to earth. You can rely on all your other fake friends. The other ones that have their own failed relationships and insecurities about bullshit their significant others haven’t even done yet. Dealing with it by posting 7000 pictures a week of them in loving embrace and posting their love to the person at each weekly milestone. I’m not petty… I’m really not. I’d rather be single than be insecure and feel the need to justify posting my claim on a human being every chance I get so everyone can be forced to see how “amazingly happy” we are together. I just hate bullshit. From them and you. And you really know how to pick the nastiest, smelliest pieces every time.

That felt good. Not gunna lie.

Now speaking of relationships, that’s not going too great either. I’m going to reiterate… I’m not jealous of those mentioned above. It’s not jealousy talking. It’s honest feelings of how unbelievably ridiculous human beings are in relationships these days.
As for my own relationships, things just keep going… the same, I guess. I think I’m realizing that I’m just the person that dudes would only want if they weren’t with someone else. But.. since they are… too bad for me. It is something that doesn’t fail. And I’ve heard it a thousand times before. And for some reason, every time, I forget. I’m surprised. And I self-sabotage. I know there’s things I shouldn’t do or say, but I do it anyways. Why wouldn’t I? I’m just so used to it. But because of this, I can’t get any further with someone than a short little fling or one night stand. Not because I want to, but because they just leave.
Part of it has to do with my anger when someone bails on plans. Though twice now, I’ve been the bad person for actually ACCEPTING it. And being cool with it. Maybe it seems passive aggressive? I don’t know. But twice it has happened where I gave a guy the benefit of the doubt and gave them an out. Or let their bailing fly. And what happens? I’m the bad guy. They stop talking to me… cause apparently I’m the jerk. Not them for being the ones to bail on plans for (in all honesty) really stupid reasons… no… it’s me.

I’ll explain the latest one: Went out with a guy, it was awesome… he came over the next night and things got exciting, to be vague. We made plans to hang out the next week. The day of comes around and I (after explaining how often this happens and how I hate people that bail and make me the one who has to message first on the first date we had) send him a message, asking if we’re still on. Hours later, I get a message saying his car died and he’s been dealing with that all day. Bit of back story, the plan was, I drive there and we hang out. Me. I drive. No second car needed. I also want to mention that all bloody week, I was sending the first message. And getting short messages all week. When normally, it was mixed between us both. Like something switched. So back to the day of, I tell him I totally get it. It’s not a huge deal. We can reschedule if he’d like, which he brushes off. So I remind him that it would have been me driving there anyways, so if he decides to hang out, he can change his mind. But he says he’d be bad company. So we’ll “figure something out later”. Well later never came. And I was stubborn and didn’t send messages anymore like I had been doing. So I got nothing back. A week later, I sent a message saying that I assume from the lack of communication that I guessed he wasn’t interested. He didn’t even bother responding. And I knew he wasn’t dead or anything… since his posts on Facebook would come up on my feed every damn day. In fact, once not long after I sent that text. Guess I wasn’t worth it.

Like I said… this shit just keeps happening. I’m the bad person because I tried.

So now I get to why i even decided to write tonight. Yet again… I’ve somehow let myself fall into the trap of thinking things were okay for me in this part of my life. Relying on another human to be actually decent. Thinking that maybe things would change. Thinking it would be okay to get excited again. And, as always, I was wrong. Once again someone bailed on me. And there’s still been no reason. No response. Talked last night about plans. I just had to wait for a message about it today. An address.. whatever. And of course… that never came. Two hours after the time we talked about. And it’s not like this hasn’t happened before with this person. It’s happened twice. And I’m an idiot and let it slide again.

Fuck I’m an idiot.

Like… I’m upset and shit. I’m bothered and annoyed with myself… but even after this short time, I may be fine. I’ll tell him off and hopefully be smart enough to cut him off completely. Here’s hoping. But why am I not mad? Because part of me thinks I might be in love (or something…) with someone else. With an ex (honestly don’t even know if we were actually “dating”, but we’ll leave it at ex) who chose someone else over me. Recently we’ve gotten back in touch. Recent being like… October last year… haha. But hanging out again is kind of new. And the first time was actually kind of hard. I missed it. I missed him. There were little things that made me feel something. Lingering hugs… A hand on my lower back. But I put those feelings away. The second time, things escalated slightly. Lingering lasted a lot longer on his part. We talked about him being unhappy. How he wasn’t sure what he wanted. And afterwards, when we were both home, he told me he wanted to kiss me. And I agreed. Maybe stupidly. But the last time… as he left my car, he did kiss me. And fuck that was painful. I drove home crying. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted it so badly. But I knew what it could screw up. and what if the people I had talked to about it were right? What if I was just an escape? What if I was just convenient? I still don’t know, even after talking to him about it. But I’m constantly wanting things I can’t have. People I can’t have. And I’m really just hurting myself, honestly.

I even tried to weigh the possibilities. Go after it and be an extremely awful person, just deal with it and always feel awful about it… or… just cut contact all together. And every single situation has cons that outweigh the pros. And I can’t decide. I don’t know how to decide. But what choice do I have? In all situations, someone gets hurt. Do I worry about someone else? Or just me?

Dear diary: I have a dilemma. And you can’t help me.

So that’s that for now. Maybe I’ll start forcing myself to write more. Really… this is all for me. Though reading back is… really hard at times. But It’s mine. And I want to remember. I may be in a better place mentally almost always, but still… we all have moments.



Update 2.0


It has been around a year and a half since I’ve written something. To post, that is. I’ve written quite a few things over that span of time, yet I’ve shied away from posting my feelings or left them unfinished, collecting e-dust in my email. I wrote about love and hate and pain and all things in between. But I don’t have any desire to go back and finish them. I’ll just get frustrated all over again. But I will say this…

I think I’m destined to be alone and unhappy.

I’m not saying this for attention. I’m not saying this to be funny. I’m saying this because I honestly feel that way. It feels as if I’m cursed in life. the moment I feel a semblance of happiness, it gets taken away. My excitement is constantly replaced by disappointment.

In a way, I feel like I’m being “left out” of life. Does that make sense? Who knows.

Every relationship I’ve tried to had ends up dying faster than I want them to. And I can’t understand why. It’s not me ending things. I’m not trying to destroy them myself anymore. I’m trying to get somewhere. But the moment I get excited or feel happy about anything, it gets taken away by fate. If I talk about the person, it’s like I’m jinxing the whole thing. If I find myself talking about them a lot, SOMETHING happens and it all gets taken away. If I’m happy, life seems to find a way to change me back to being miserable. It’s fucking draining.

I just shouldn’t feel excitement. I shouldn’t be happy. Because it leads to heartache. And that all builds up until I crack. And I did.

About a month ago, I was extremely close to killing myself. Wow. Thinking about that and rereading it written on my laptop just brought back all those feelings. That’s actually kind of hard to admit in writing. I haven’t told anyone. So the first to know are a bunch of strangers who don’t even know me. Or nobody, depending on whether this is actually seen. I feel two ways about that… Sad that I feel I can’t confide in people actually around me. And glad that I can finally write that it happened.

I had (have?) been feeling so incredibly worthless. Like I wasn’t worth anything to anyone. That my parents would be better off not having to deal with their daughter living at home anymore. That they wouldn’t need to be searching for a place to live with me being a factor.

Well fuck… looks like I still feel that way.

I’ve felt many times that people wouldn’t care if I was gone. That’s pretty clear, since bailing on plans is something people constantly do to me. I feel slighted all the time. Yes, people have things that come up. But when it’s a regular thing, then you find yourself wondering if you’re just a piece of shit.

You’re not worth anything, Steffanie. You’re better off gone.

That little nagging voice in the back of my head got so fucking loud that day. It was deafening. After a fight with my parents about how fucking pathetic my financial situation was and how I couldn’t afford to renew my licence or my stickers for my car, to which I asked for those as my ‘birthday’ gift, that voice came in strong. I knew they wouldn’t talk to me the rest of the night. I knew they wouldn’t really check on me after a certain point. I knew that they wouldn’t find me until I was already gone. And in my brain, I glamourized the fuck out of that idea. I was happy that they wouldn’t be able to save me. But then I thought… if I did it closer to when I knew they’d check on me, that they would have time to potentially save me… or just be seconds too late. And I honestly debated which I wanted more. Overdosing was possible with all the medication I had. Anything with blood would be putting people out too much, which was what I was trying to get away from in the first place.

That first night, a Sunday, was really hard to get through. I think I just forced myself to sleep. Pushed everything back just so I could wait until the next day to maybe deal with it. And deal with it, I did not. I worked that Monday. I can’t even count how many times I went into the bathroom the cry. And then all the thoughts would come rushing back.

Steffanie, you’re worthless. It would be better if you were just gone. Work would probably appreciate it too.

So I thought about the medication I had in my purse. The needles on the walls of my work room. All the things I could use in that very bathroom I stood in, trying to get myself to stop crying, while making the tears worse in the process. I thought of how often people come into the bathroom. Not everyone was in yet. The office wasn’t full enough yet to have a lot of bathroom users through the day. I could do it and doubted anyone would notice or even find me, if I did it right. But somehow, the day ended with me not doing the scenarios I had running through my head. I made it home without crashing my car, another thing I had contemplated on the way to work and back home. That night I don’t even know what I did. But clearly I’m still here.

So… what was it that saved me? What helped me push back the thoughts I had of no longer being alive?

My niece and nephew. Kinda weird, coming from a person who doesn’t usually like kids.

Every time I needed to push away that dirty, nagging voice in my brain, I thought of them. I thought of my family. I thought of my sister having to tell her daughter why I wasn’t here anymore. Having to explain why her Auntie Steff was no longer in family photos. I thought of my brother telling his son that he actually had another aunt, but she’s gone now. I thought of my sisters unborn child… telling him why he never got to meet his aunt. Having my sister-in-law and brother tell their future children that the person no longer in family photos is gone because she’s dead.

That killed me. And it still does. How selfish I would be to put them in that position. Maybe someone WOULD care. Maybe putting that kind of thing on someone else’s shoulders was worse than my feelings of being a burden. Maybe it was a worse burden. I wouldn’t want someone else to have to explain how I felt to someone else. Because nobody knows. Because I don’t tell people what is going on in my head. Because I don’t want to put my problems and feelings on someone else’s shoulders more than I already have. I’d want to be the one to explain why Auntie Steffanie was no longer around. But I can’t do that unless I AM around. Kind of a dilemma, in a way.

So here I am. Thoughts pushed back. The nagging voice pushed back into a dark closet where I can’t hear him. For now. Of course there’s days when I can hear his whispers through the cracks. But I’m continuing on. I’m pushing through the days.

But seriously…

I need a fucking break.

I need a fucking miracle.




Selfish and Ignored

This has probably been one of the shittiest Christmas’ and New Years I have had in a long time. And I’ve had some shitty ones. Times like this are what make you realize just how alone and insignificant you really are. And that’s a lot.

It all started during the Christmas week. I rarely look forward to Christmas. Im not the type to get into all the festivities and such. But that’s just me. Christmas is usually filled with fun and laughter and all that shit. Christmas Eve wasn’t that day for me. I woke up in a foul mood which had continued all through the holiday. I had to ask family members for meds that would help me get through the days. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to deal with a lot of people in my family without them. Which in turn, made me feel worse. But so be it.

I worked on Christmas Eve and then came home to get ready for this party we were throwing. It turned out ok and I was fine after taking meds. But not 100%. When I woke up, my mood had gone back to how it was the day before.

I am, at times, a very selfish person. I can’t help myself. My parents stated they were cutting back on presents this year for christmas. We’re used to a lot of presents. Some could say I’m spoiled. In a way… I definitely am. But this year wasn’t going┬áto be the same. Whatever. Who cares. But then there’s the baby presents. Which, in a way, are favoured towards the parents of the babies. Since they are the ones opening the presents. It is, really, for them. Babies don’t know what the hell these toys and clothes are. Whatever. So we all get stockings… done. I unwrapped a total of 4 presents that day. One being a present from my brother who picked my name this year. 2 being things that could have been put into my stocking. The last being a jacket that I bought for myself with their money.

Again… call me spoiled. I don’t care. It is spoiled and petty. It bothered me. To add to that, my brain was in the “why can’t I have a significant other” mode. Which just made things worse. I looked at everyone else in that room, being in love with someone and having a great time… and there’s me… sitting alone… wishing I didn’t have to be there and see them all. Wishing I could crawl into my bed and never come back out. So we finished up Christmas unwrapping and I went upstairs. In my guilt and anger and annoyance and sadness, I cried. I sat up in my room and cried. And the only way I could face my family again was to pretend I went up to have a shower. Only thing that could explain my red face. I came down at the end of breakfast when everyone was already finished… made my own eggs. Ate cold food. I didn’t care. My mom asked if I was ok after… I lied and went back upstairs for a while. I told a friend about what was going on with me. And realized how shitty of me it was to put that on him. It was. What kind of person bothers someone when they’re with their family to complain about their own problems? Selfish… honestly. He says it’s ok. It wasn’t. It wasn’t at all. I still get mad at myself for doing that shit.

Boxing day turned out alright, but I just wanted to be alone in my room. Maybe talk to other people. But everyone else was busy with their lives. Everyone else was busy with their own families. And I wanted nothing to do with mine. I just wanted the holiday to be over and to go get my tattoos and be done with it.

Now New Years rolls around. I’m feeling 100% okay again. The tattoos must have helped. But there we are again… an odd number at the dinner table. Couples around me all over. 12am rolls in. I sat with my dog. Awesome. The feelings rush in again for the moment. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why can’t I just settle? What is wrong with me?

Now it’s today. I wake up to my dad screaming at the tv over some hockey bullshit. Because other people don’t live in this house, apparently. This proves that it actually is his thought process as I lie in my bed. My mom mentions banana pancakes. I like those. He yells down to my brother, asking him if he wants them. So I wait to hear him call my name so I can pipe up and say yes. Nothing. I don’t hear him ask another thing. So I think… well I guess I better head downstairs. Maybe he’ll ask then. Nope. I sit on the couch silently watching hockey. I hate hockey. I don’t care. Still nothing. He swears about burning his pancakes. He goes to make more. They’re for my mom. I’m standing there behind him, waiting for anything at all. He puts one last pancake to fry. That’s it. It’s done. I got nothing.

I didn’t need it. I wasn’t that hungry, really… I could have just made my own or had something else. But as my mom looked at me, asking if I had wanted any, I lied. I said no. She asked why I said nothing. I told her I wasn’t even asked. My dad lied, as always, saying he asked everyone and heard nothing. He didn’t even say a damn thing. Nothing to me. As if I didn’t exist. She asked if he could make more after he ate. “There’s nothing left!” in an aggravated voice. Sorry for being alive. So I leave. One last attempt to make me some. At this point, I don’t even want them. Just would have been nice to have someone ask you in the first place and remember you exist once in a while.

I’ve always been the black sheep. The weird one in the family. That’s just me. I’m not changing that. But it’s hard to be that person. To be the one people just don’t quite understand. I rarely get messages from people. I honestly don’t have many friends. I’m alone somewhat by choice… but also because people clearly don’t want to be around me. They don’t know what to do with me. And I can’t blame them.

I started talking to someone and it was an every day thing. With the holidays, the person pulled back. It’s a busy time. They have family. Shit going on. I get it. I really do. But when you’re in a state like I get during this time of the year, it just always seems like you’ve done something wrong. Like I’m the reason that they stopped talking to me. Not because life is happening. But because I’ve done something stupid and has made them pull away. I can’t help but think that way because its happened so many times. I get ignored. And that is the worst fucking feeling in the world. The worst.


I’ll leave this at that. I’m just going to stay in bed today. I’ve turned off my phone. I don’t want anything to do with anyone. Today can just go away.

Selfish and Ignored

Being Used is for The Unwanted

It’s been a while. I suck. I know. But writing hasn’t been much on my mind for my angry days lately. Hasn’t been on my mind any day, really. But today… Today I had something really bother me. To the point where it stayed with me all day. My mood was terrible at work and I actually think it made me feel ill. It’s just something that bothers me because it happens to me a lot. So let’s get right into it, kids.

I have a few friends, one in particular today, that use me. I know that they use me because it is quite clear. Today, I was used for my social connections in the film industry. I know a person who wants to do stuff related to it and has been trying to get some kind of ‘in’ with the business. He also was looking for some kind of partnership with a place I know of to get some freebies going and interest in both businesses (his and theirs). A while back, I introduced him to the people I knew at a convention, since I work with them at cons throughout the year. They told him to email and they’d go from there, hooking him up with some freebies. My job should have been done there. But it wasn’t. Since then (around May/June), the only messages I got from him were asking about the people I introduced him to. He had emailed, but heard nothing back. While that sucks, it’s not really my problem. But I said I’d email them anyways.

My issue here is this; why would you think it’s cool to send someone a message only to ask them for something? Everyone does it, yes, but having that be a part of EVERY┬áconversation you have is just stupid. I admit… I had a thing for this guy for a while. He’s super attractive and fun and all that bullshit. But I realize now that he was probably only making nice with me to get to the people I knew. And that’s a shitty thing to do. It just makes me feel so completely unwanted and useless. Todays conversation went as follows:

Him: “Hey. I’m at work and can’t talk.. but I haven’t heard anything from your friends?”
Me: “Yea.. I know they’ve been busy. It’s busy season. I’m sure they’re getting to you.”
Him: “Probably. Just wanted to know if you’ve heard anything?”
Me: “Nope. But I guess I could email them for you..”
Him: “Great. That would be awesome. Thanks.”
Me: “Yup…”
a few minutes later.
“I better get to work now.”
Him: “Okay… enjoy work!”

I don’t know. I might be being irrational.. but this was basically most of our conversations the past two months… if there’s any conversation at all. I try sending a message to just chat, and I get ignored. But when he wants to talk, I jump on it like an idiot. And then feel like shit when the conversation turns to “you could do something for me and that would be great”. I’m just at this point where I don’t want people around me. And I try to avoid everyone as much as possible. I stay home and in my room so I don’t have to talk to people and be disappointed by them and by my life. It’s frustrating having people only want you around for your connections. Or have people pretend to be your friend and then never respond to you or only talk to you when it benefits them. I’ve cut a lot of people out of my life like that. I guess I better start again. Admittedly, though, I miss my younger days of going out and having fun. I haven’t done that in a long time.

Also… dating sites are useless and stupid. Just an FYI. We’ll get to that subject another time.

I’m done. Night.


Being Used is for The Unwanted

A Case of the Angries

Hello boils and ghouls. I just thought I’d post something really quick since I haven’t done anything in quite a while. Or anything NEWLY written, should I say. In this magically magical post, I’d like to talk about hangovers. Yes.. The asshole from the morning after.

Normal people tend to have normal drinking experiences. Get super drunk, possibly black out, wake up feeling like a bag of death that projectile vomits all over your moms new curtains. This is normal.

I, however, am not a normal drinker. First thing, I only drink girly drinks. My go-to drink at a bar is a White Freezie (it’s super duper yummy, guys) which is (normally) banana liquor, raspberry sour puss, and sprite. I order this every time because I know it is good. If that is not possible, I tend to go for vodka cran. Cause I’m a rebel like that. I don’t drink beer. Wine tastes like balls. Harder liquor can be a bit too much (tequila makes me gag before it even touches my mouth. Mlehhhh.). But these drinks that I tend to enjoy, since they are watered down money grabbing drinks, allow me to drink MANY of them before I start to get drunk. Which is hard on my wallet. Cause $7 a drink plus tip starts to get out of hand at some point.

Now I’d like to point out that I actually don’t usually drink. The last time I drank a lot was when I lived in England. That was like… 2 years ago. That’s forever. But I decided I’d have a go at drinking a few nights ago since a friend was visiting and I promised we’d go to a bar. So we sat for a few hours… 4-6 drinks ┬áand two shots later and I was… well I wasn’t really drunk, honestly. I was slightly tipsy. I’d also like to point out that my drunk self is not reckless, obnoxious, flirty, or a huge cryer. I tend to still be me with a bit more volume and a bit more outgoing. That’s about it.

Let’s fast forward to the next day after about 4-5 hours of sleep. This… this is what this whole post is about. My hangover. As I said, I don’t get normal hangovers. I don’t feel sick (except when I first started drinking… there’s a whole other story with that) and it’s super awesome. What I DO get, however, is angry. Angry to a point where I hope that everyone around me dies so I never have to look at anyone ever again (but not in any way that I’d HURT someone to get to that point. The apocalypse or something would be perfect during my hangovers). Now seeing as I had a friend visiting, I had to continue to show him around the next couple of days until he left. Hangover time meant that I didn’t want to be near anyone. But everyone seemed to want to be near me.

I turned into a velociraptor of anger and was ready to cut everyones eyes out with my claws of danger. This anger even lasted for days. And that is rather normal for me. Honestly… when people try to date me, they need to make sure I don’t get drunk around them, because I will probably eat their faces off within the span of an hour of being near them. I was awful towards my friend that was staying. I was short with him, snapped at him, and my sarcasm levels were moving into the ‘not friendly’ zone. So I mostly shut myself down for the day. Didn’t really talk… listened to music to drown out his voice… all that stuff. I did everything in my power to make sure I didn’t have to talk to him much, yet still show him a fun time, and not be a complete bitch. I don’t really think it worked, honestly. But the angries lasted… I still have them today and he left yesterday. The angries started on Sunday and it is now Wednesday. Atta girl, Steff.

By the end of his visit, I was ready to kick him out of my car while I drove on the highway. Everything he did bothered me. His voice, how he sang slightly louder than the music and ruined it for me, any time he moved any part of his body, any time he looked at me, every fucking time he asked me if I was alright (NEVER ASK A GIRL WHO IS OBVIOUSLY ANGRY IF SHE IS ALRIGHT. Not. Even. Once.), being in my car, asking where we were going, asking any question, being a human, touching my dog, eating, drinking a beer, smoking a lot, moving his suitcases, putting his suitcases in my car, packing his suitcase, not being able to clasp his suitcase together, being slow, having a bag, making me carry his bag while he went to the top of the cn tower, making me wait, going up to the cn tower, waiting in line, sitting, asking to go to McDonalds, asking me what is good, asking what the best of anything is, asking how far it is to drive to Vancouver, asking how long it takes to take a boat across the lake near me, asking questions in general, taking up any room at all, saying words, pointing out cars, saying ‘look at that one’ at every nice car, saying he wants to stay here, asking if I would hide him in my basement, saying he knows a mall better than me, saying he is better at me than anything, really, drinking coffee, drinking chocolate chills from Tim Hortons, wanting Taco Bell, wanting more Tim Hortons, walking, being in my passenger seat, sitting beside me on the subway…

Poking me. FUCKING POKING ME. I hate being poked. I HATE IT.

And that’s not even everything. There were so many other irrational things I started hating him for. And it wasn’t that I legitimately hate him for these things, it’s my ‘hangover’ taking over my brain and making me think I hate him. I’ll get over it in a couple more days.

But yea. This is my hangover. This is… a case of the angries. And this is my life.


A Case of the Angries

Life As I Know It

Originally Published: April 7, 2015

My life is currently on a downwards spiral… But for some odd reason, my brain hasn’t felt any sadness or depression towards it. I’ve kept positive during this whole thing and have kind of just sat back and watched how shit my life keeps getting from a far. As if it is someone else’s life. But I know it is mine and I know it needs to change. Drastically.
I stopped my medication officially last month (well… end of February, I believe) and have felt better than I was even when I was on meds. Interesting, huh? I stopped taking them on my own because I just decided I didn’t want to be filled with drugs to make me feel better. I felt I was strong enough again to deal with my daily struggles. Like I used to. So far, things have gone well. Hopefully it lasts.
A bit of background.. I was bullied a lot in school. From a young age up until high school. I was always the bigger girl and part of everyones jokes. I didn’t have many friends and the boys didn’t like me. I was the awkward girl. And I never wanted to change, no matter how odd people thought I was and how much I got bullied. By the time I got into grade 8, I came to a halt. Things got worse at school and I was battling my own inner demons and battling with my outward appearance. I literally wanted to die. I had made more friends at this point. We were known as the losers in our grade. We would write little notes to each other and fold them up and pass them on, responding to each new letter each night. I kept all of the responses I got for a long time. I kept them in a box, hidden in my bedroom, praying nobody would find them. My notes would get darker and darker as the school year went on. I would complain about how awful life was and how I didn’t want to be there anymore. Self-harm became my out. But I knew nothing would ever come of it. I was too scared to go further. I was always thinking of my family… thinking of how many lives I’d ruin if I was gone. So I never went far enough. But self-harm was a way for me to cope. To deal with the shit and put my mind on something else. I still have some of the things I wrote during that time. Books covered in sadness and pain. But the notes and letters… years later, I threw them away. I wanted to forget about them and not waste my time thinking about how someone would respond to me and tell me not to do anything bad.. but I never knew whether it was sincere on her part. I’ll honestly never now. But I kept mementos. That time is still a part of me. That was still ME. You can’t get rid of yourself like that.
Once I got to high school, things had still continued, but i changed. People always had things to say about me. But I stopped caring. I stopped letting their words infect me. Stopped letting them take away my happiness. I stayed in a constant bubble. Never made an effort to make friends. Some people just gravitated towards me and I’d let a few in. The self-harm continued, but started to slow. I only had a few scars. Eventually… i’d really only have one that was small and almost not even there. Nobody knew except those who I made aware. And those were few and far between.
Now the reason I told you all of this is because back then… I dealt with this all on my own. Everything that happened… everything I did… anyone that infected my life.. I just dealt with it. I never took medication. I just let things find their own place and healed myself. By the end of high school, I became hard. I was covered in a thick shell and nobody could ever get through it. To this day, I really don’t think anyone has. I have a few friends that I’ve spoken to about it… but I’ve never gone further into it. Or I leave out things.
I had kept that shell for a long time… until it cracked. I… cracked. Things went downhill again. I couldn’t deal with my job… couldn’t deal with my personal life. Moving to England was where I completely broke. It was as if the world was trying to break me… and finding any way to do it. And it did. I broke. But this time I couldn’t mend myself. I couldn’t put myself back together. I couldn’t put on that quick bandaid to hold myself together for a while until I re-grew my shell. It took me 6 months to go see my doctor and get help. I couldn’t live anymore. I wanted an out again. But again, I never went far enough. I was lucky that I had one day where I could force myself to get up and make an appointment. To go to the doctor and get help that I never needed before.
And that help continued through until now. I didn’t want help anymore. I wanted to deal with things on my own again. I wanted to be me again. Not the product of a drug that made me happy. I wanted to be happy on my own. And that’s where I am. And I’m happy to say that about myself. I’m happy to say I rebuilt that shell. Things still get through… there’s still thin parts and cracks… but they’re being mended. I want to be that strong person again. Strong for myself and strong for other people. I want to be that rock people needed again.

So we’ll finish with the depression stuff for now and update on life events. I got into a car accident on March 25th. I was on the highway and a girl lost control and drove into my lane. She was perpendicular to my car and smashed into my right front side. I tried to stop, but didn’t see her in time, since there was a truck beside me. Best part? She drove away. I didn’t need that shit at all. ­čśŽ She ended up being found… her plate was on the road from the accident. When they called her, she told them she was hit by another car and that SHE now wanted to report a hit and run. Really? Dumbass. You wouldn’t have had so many issues had you stayed. But you fucked up. So now I’m left waiting for a car to be fixed, pains all over my body from the accident, and stress from dealing with insurance stuff. It sucks. Worst timing. But I’m alive. That’s the best outcome out of this whole thing. I’m okay. And I’m not scared of driving or anything. I handled the whole situation really well. Which I’m extremely proud of myself for.
I’ve also been given 6 months to get my shit together. My parents have threatened me to either get a full time job, or I get kicked out. So that’s fun. The hardest part is not knowing what I want to DO with my life. I feel like I’m still in high school, deciding what I want to be when I grow up. Fucking growing up sucks. And this all started because my parents opened my mail and saw I owed a lot of money. So that was even better. Good job, Steff. Could have avoided that one.

I’m done with writing now. I’m bored of it.
P.S. Work fucking blows and I still hate it.

Life As I Know It

Retail is a Bag of Poo…

Originally Published: January 19, 2015

It’s been a while… so I’ve decided to write a blog about how much retail stinks. And it’s a lot. A lot, a lot. I currently work with pets… before that, as we know, I was working in a bong shop. Yes. I sold bongs. To stupid people, most of the time. But that job is currently irrelevant, as I’ll be talking about my current job. I’m going to post some things that bug me a whole bunch and explain them in scenarios that actually happened. For real. Here goes.

-People are amazing at giving me their number while I’m still ringing things through. Our system sometimes asks for a phone number for savings. Most people are aware of this… but they seem to think I have 30 hands and can ring things through and also type in their phone number at the same time. I cannot. It is literally impossible. I also feel as if they think my brain is linked to the computer somehow and types things for me by my just thinking it. This also is impossible.
-A lot of these same people are also really good at giving me their number without an area code. As if I’m supposed to magically know their area code by reading their mind. There’s like… 3000 area codes you could have. Just give me all 10 fucking digits!!! It’s 3 extra! Why is that so fucking hard?
-People enjoy talking on their phone as I ring them through and sometimes just stand there and talk to whoever seems to be extremely important at the time instead of paying and/or paying attention. I know… most places have shit like this going down. I get that. And I can understand people have to talk to others. But shit. How’s about we still pay attention while paying? If you’re not ready to be cashed through, don’t fucking stand in my line and hold people up. Dicks.
-When people need to return something, (which is literally everything and anything. We return ripped apart toys… because nobody realizes that dogs like to rip toys apart and people enjoy taking advantage of us returning things) they have to come to any of the cash registers. People seem to think we have a customer service desk just for returns like a large retail store… like… The Bay… or Sears. We don’t. You just need to get in line. It’s actually not hard to get that, though I can understand new customers thinking maybe we do. Whatever. Anyways, these people seem to think that while I am busy ringing a customer through, it’s okay to stand right behind where I am, watching me and waiting to talk to me. I tend to ignore them. I’m doing something. Get in fucking line. When I do acknowledge them, since they start making noises and shuffling, they ask me where they go for a return. I tell them to get in line, since it’s at any of the open registers. Some proceed to tell me a story that’s 3000 years long about why it’s being returned… while someone else is standing there, waiting to be rung through. As if they are more important that everyone. Just get in fucking line and tell me later! Jesus.
-There’s a few customers that we have that come in with just plain shitty dogs. They bark all the time, they pee and poo everywhere, they are snappy, and they are sometimes ugly. Owners and dogs. These are the people who think their dogs are the greatest dogs ever, but they actually suck. It’s frustrating.
-Speaking of peeing and pooing, we have many a customer that let’s their dog do their business in the store. We provide cleaning stations for this type of business. We also have many customers that just… don’t clean it up. They KNOW their dog is doing it, but pretend it isn’t happening and just walk out. Apparently it’s our job to clean up after their dogs. It’s not. I don’t clean your lawn for you. I don’t pick up your dogs shit on the grass when you go for a walk… why should I clean it in a store? Do it your fucking self and be responsible for your own dog. Or don’t bring them in. Ugh.
-We have a woman that comes in who has named her dog Bobby Orr. Literally. Bobby Orr. And she calls him by that full name… multiple times… no short forms. Not ‘Bob’, ‘Bobby’, ‘Orr’… No. Bobby. Fucking. Orr. It’s really awkward. The dog is a big fluffy white one and the other day he came with shit stuck to his hair at his bum. Like a poop trail that happened at some point. This woman loves Bobby Orr so much, but can’t fucking clean his poop that’s hanging from his bum. Bobby Orr is also kind of a dick. And his owners is also kinda weird looking. Just sayin’.
-Another thing people enjoy, and this is not just children, is squeaking the toys. Not once or twice… but 20 million times. And they go down the line of toys basically squeezing every one to check it’s squeakiness. This is a constant thing in my life. Every time I hear one go off, I clench my teeth and grind them. There’s probably going to be a point where my ears start bleeding from all of the squeaky toys going off. Because people are dicks and think it’s funny. As if I’ve never heard someone squeak a toy before. LOL SO FUNNY. No.
-From the toys brings my next pet peeve. People are incapable of putting things back where they found them. Things are constantly brought around the store and left wherever the person feels like. Our leashes look disgusting because people pick up a collar and won’t put in back where they found it. Instead, they decide it now belongs 3 centimetres away with a completely different type of collar. Or on the other side of the aisle all together. And they pull out leashes and just leave them dangling like it’s no problem. Things don’t need to go back where they are found. Who the fuck am I kidding?
-My favourite people are usually mothers. And by favourite, I mean I hope they fall down some stairs. With their young children (walking and talking over 4 year olds). Mothers tend to be really good at not watching their kids. Not all parents. Some are great… but there’s a few that are brutal at it. I say mothers right now because most of the incidents I have are with moms. Not dads. One time in particular, I had a mother and her two sons in line to pay. She was filling out a short form. We have a donation box at the cash where people pop in money. Sometimes bills and toonies, which are the best looking to people. As this woman is writing her info, her sons are looking at the cash box, which is see-through. Also broken and held together with tape… But whatever. So these kids are now trying to stick their fingers in the small slot at the top to try to get to the money. Mom is still oblivious. I’m saying not to do it or their fingers would get stuck. I also stated how the money was for charity for the poor puppies and kitties that don’t have food. Now, just to spite me, these two boys are going in behind and trying to get in that way. I tell them no, mom still apparently is blind, and the one says he wants a toonie. I tell him he can’t have it. He smirks and starts to try to peel off the tape. He then says to me, I shit you not, “It’s broken. I’m going to open it. That is my money.” Finally mom pipes up. “Please stop that.” That’s all. The boys continue to do what they’re doing. I’m trying to get them to stop. Nope. They are now determined. Mom is finished paying now and tells the boys that they are going. No mention of how they were just trying to steal charity money. None. As they leave, the one boy grabs a toy and starts to walk out with it. I say “that’s not yours, buddy!”, trying to be nice about it. Mom quietly says “put it back”. The boy refuses for a while and then throws it. Throws it on the fucking ground and leaves. I was ready to punch the mother in the face and send those children to the worst foster home imaginable. Who knows what else those dickheads stole.
-We also get a lot of obnoxious kids and teenagers that come into the store, screaming and yelling about things. “That kitten! LOOK AT HOW CUTE THAT KITTEN IS!!!! OMGGGGGGGGGG!” Literal screams. This goes on for a minimum of 20 minutes. This also includes the bratty kids that scream and cry about wanting something. And screaming about how they have to have something and the parent either ignores them, grabs them by the arm and holds them up, possibly pulling the arm out of socket from force, or just gives in and buys the kid whatever they want. The generation is going to shit, I tells ya.
-Another thing is our debit systems. Our system asks for a donation from the get-go. You can choose to donate to charity, or say no. At least 75% of people will ask me how to say no. I get why. It can be confusing. But then there’s the dumbasses that come in. They just stand there, staring at the machine, then at me. “It’s not doing anything…” Really? It’s not doing anything? IT’S ASKING IF YOU WANT TO DONATE! CAN’T YOU FUCKING READ?! “I don’t think it’s working. Is it broken?” No. But your brain is. “Am I supposed to do something here?” Yea. Use your eyeballs and read. Then select whatever the fuck you want to do. It’s as if people forgot how to use debit machines between stores.
-We also ask if people want cash back. Some people will tell me they want it. Super. Then there’s the people who don’t say shit. They don’t tell me they asked for cash. What if I don’t have it, dickhead? Then, when it’s early in the morning and I don’t have the $100 that they just requested in my till, they get mad. As if I told them they could get cash back. Or asked them myself and confirmed that I had exactly this amount.

I also have a few issues with coworkers…
-One of my mangers is a dick. She just makes me angry when I see her. She lies all the time. She ignores basic things we need or ask for. We are supposed to get 15 minute breaks over 4 hours… (which is stupid, honestly. Should be a 15 with the 4 hour shift too, but whatever). This manager has told me on multiple occasions that we “don’t do 15 minute breaks anymore”. Really? Pretty sure that’s illegal. But I could be wrong, I guess. We already have to have unpaid lunches. Now my 15 minute breaks are being taken from me? AWESOME. She does other dumb shit too. But I can’t think of it now.
-We have some girls that are super catty and talk about other people behind their backs. These people usually come from our grooming department. Groomers are generally dicks, apparently. Not all, but most. I was in the lunch room and 2 groomers came in and sat at the table with me. I was not acknowledged. These girls then proceed to talk shit about another groomer. While I was sitting right there. The kicker?
“Don’t tell anyone I said anything, okay?”
I’M SITTING RIGHT FUCKING HERE. AND YOU SAID HER FUCKING NAME MANY TIMES. You’re not going to tell me not to say anything? As if I’m not even there? WOW. People are actually stupid. Seriously.

And this concludes my hate for retail. And that’s just from this job. There’s more, but I never remember when I need to. So we’ll leave it at this for now. My job kinda sucks. But I like the puppies. So that’s a plus…

Retail is a Bag of Poo…