I’m not in any way religious but sometimes I do think of this blog as a way to take myself to church; allowing my heart, mind and soul to connect truthfully to something, anything. With that being said, it’s been 3 weeks since my last confession and as it turns out, I’ve got some explaining to do.


I’ve spent the better part of the last 12 months really discovering myself, trying to live an authentic life and attempting to share anecdotes about lessons I’ve learned in hopes that someone, somewhere may find comfort in my truths. The real truth is, I’m human. I fucked up. I let go of the things that make me truly happy; writing this blog, walking my dog, practicing self-care and remembering just how important it is to take the time to breathe.

I could talk about how exhausted I am from chasing my tail at work or how emotionally stunted I feel knowing the anniversary of my Dad’s passing is merely weeks away. I could spend hours crying over how everything I own is covered in dog hair or use food as an emotional crutch instead of just feeling my feelings and being proud of myself for recognising when to walk away from a relationship that wasn’t going to work. I could go on and on about missing my closest friends or have a giant sook about spending Christmas alone – just me and the dog.


I could do all of that simultaneously while eating my own body weight in Ben & Jerry’s while sobbing into my laptop watching sad movies but none of that seems particularly healthy or productive. So instead, this strong, independent, single gal is going to make some apologies for doing all the things I constantly tell myself and others not to do, dust myself off – the only way I know how – and get the fuck on with it.

I haven’t been very nice to myself lately. I take pride in the fact that I am usually the Queen of self-care, taking long and luxurious baths and holding a middle finger up to anyone or anything that makes me feel less than beautiful. I’ve taken on nurturing others and their needs to a level of stupidity, forgot how to treat myself and have lowered my expectations of others. Lately it seems I’ve not only lost my sparkle but I’ve lost the love for everything I am. Now, I’m not sure where it went but I know it’s aching to show itself again and I am so ready.


I haven’t let my feelings out. This blog is such a safe space for me to connect with you and you’ll never know just how grateful I am to you. For reading, feeling and reaching out. Forgive me when I say that more importantly than the connection this blog creates with you, is the blessing of connecting with myself. It allows me to take time out from everything else and to focus on whatever happens to be floating around inside my ever evolving being. Trust me when I say, I’ve been feeling lost without it, without you.

I’ve made a mess. My spaces, my mind, my heart. Everything is dusty and unclean at the moment. My car looks like a bomb has gone off and as it looks right now, my Mother would refer to my room as a pigsty. I know when my mind and heart are cloudy the rest of my safe spaces suffer and it’s time to get back to basics. There are absolutely no excuses worth spinning, just promises to do better. Be better and take control of my life, again.

I’ve pushed my own boundaries. I’m not going to make apologies for having pretty clear expectations of how I’m treated – by myself, in relationships, in a social environment – whatever. I am, however, guilty of ignoring my instincts, repetitively making or taking excuses for poor behaviour and not knowing how to regain control once it’s lost. To say I’ll never do those things again seems ambitious but I am going to try to be more aware of my needs and promise to try harder to stand up for myself when I know something isn’t right.

I’ve let other people determine my worth. People have walked out of my life quite a bit this year and although I’m not particularly mad about it – making room for the good stuff is always a blessing in my book – it does kinda suck, Over time, these ‘losses’ have chipped away at the way I feel about myself which I know is stupid but sometimes unavoidable. I’ve let strangers, friends and lovers determine whether I am of any value. Spoiler alert; I am.


I am also sexy, smart, indecisive, impulsive, brave, sometimes irrational, hilarious, nurturing, encouraging, supportive, silly, serious, loud, obnoxious, quiet, patient, fearless and strong. Sure, I’m a walking, talking contradiction of a human. Complete with faults, darkness and ugly bits. All of that makes me who I am and I shouldn’t be afraid of any of it, neither should you.

Normally I would just hide in the shadows with my mistakes, trying not to bring attention to them to avoid embarrassment. Holding up a mirror to yourself and getting actual answers isn’t exactly glamorous but it sure is freeing. Admitting that things aren’t so great is fucking hard but if I can’t share that shit here or with myself, where can I?

So, here’s to making the same silly mistakes over and over, figuring it all out as we go along and letting go of people, things and places that don’t bring you joy. I need to find a way to be proud of myself for trying my best to get back to the real stuff, the good stuff and being the best version of myself that I can be, every day.

Love, P.




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