5 Ways To a Better Day

5 Ways To a Better Day

There are 53 Mondays in a year and not a single one of them excites me as much as a Friday. Why? Because starting anything over is never as fulfilling as finishing strong.

Like completing a sand castle.

Monday’s are just the rogue wave to Sunday’s flawlessly sculpted beach creation equipped with a perfectly dugout moat. Insert Monday:

Frankly, I’ve never met a Monday I didn’t want to put back in the deck. Thanks for dealing me a bullshit hand Mr. Work Week but I’m gonna fold. You know what’s a good work week draw? Four day weekends. You know what I’ve never had while working in the medical field? a substantial pay check, mental stability, Four day weekends.

So while the rest of the world anxiously awaits the next national holiday–or for some really well oiled companies–fuckin’ any dead presidents birthday, I look for ways to make all 53 of those god forsaken Mondays a little less Monday-y. (Also, I’m great at sharing so I listed them below)

Listen to good music. I’m too busy listening to said good music right now to research any statistics on this, but I imagine someone did the dirty work to prove that “feel good” music isn’t just a nick name. ( you know, like how Siri calls me ‘Sugar Tits’ and I know damn sure she means it ) Feel good music makes us feel….good. If you’re feeling good, chances are your day is probably getting better. This equation is as 101 as it gets.

Go through your contacts and delete anybody who doesn’t serve a purpose. There’s nothing that makes me more bummed out than clutter. Add shitty people into that clutter and we have ourselves a clean up on isle-Iphone. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that this lunch time excursion brings me so much joy. Mostly because taking my phone out of my pocket by dinner will likely ensure a “Hey, what’s up?” from a “Maybe: Kyle”….and I get to pull my favorite line out of my ass: “I’m sorry but, WHO IS THIS?” Plot twist…..Spring cleaning isn’t only necessary in the spring. Take the trash out weekly my friends.

Sweat. Hydrate. Repeat. No matter how many times I’ve groaned my way to the gym, I’ve never left it pissed that I spent any amount of time there. ~Except that one time I had a nipple slip on the smith machine trying to rack weights that never should have called for that kind of bodily exertion.~ Anyway….Can’t say the same for the mall. Buyers remorse is a real life urban dictionary option whereas gym remorse falls into the category of what many would consider a sin. Monday might be a steaming pile of dog shit by the time you get to lift a single weight or chug a glass of water, but even dog shit needs a pick me up sometimes. Literally.

Plan life events. So, it’s a Monday and you’re coming off the high of 48 hours straight of pure debauchery, what will inevitably peak the interest of your inner sinner? MORE DEBAUCHERY. Nothing says let’s forget about the pain of right now like catapulting your thoughts of future bad behavior into it’s place. The best way to cure the Monday Blues is to pretend like Monday doesn’t even exist, or better yet…what the next Monday you won’t be showing up for work looks like because you will likely be on a Caribbean island sipping cocktails equipped with bigger umbrellas than your work insurance policy. Give yourself something….anything, to look forward to and any day can go from “why did I even wake up?” to “I can’t wait to wake up 43 more times until my vacation!”.

Pay it Forward. No agenda, no expectations. Karma is a bigger bitch than I could ever be, and she lurks in the shadows of everyone’s philanthropic moments. She wants to know what kind of player in this game of life you are and she’s ready to change an entire day for you at the flip of a coin (the coin you either paid for the person behind you’s coffee with or the one you didn’t). There are no rules about the frequency or size of a good deed, but there is for sure science that equates feeling good with doing good. That’s bad English, but it rolled off the tongue better, so we’re keeping it. Altruism brings human beings bliss; plain and simple. **If this doesn’t apply to you, you’re dead inside…go home.

Bad days are still just days. Which means they are never-the-less tiny 24 hour gifts that we have the option of altering based on events, mood, opportunities, people, how much money I find on the ground, what kind of puppies show up to my work, how many chocolate shakes I get offered for free…the list goes on. If you’re having 99 problems, and a bitch is more than one of them try one of my top five quickest ways to tolerate a bad day and see if you can’t turn it around with a little shake up from the norm.

5 Steps To Overcoming Heartbreak

It’s hard to write about heartbreak when you are actively heartbroken. You know, like watching the waiter march to your table with a bowl of piping hot oatmeal when you’re hung over.With that said it’s taken me almost all of 2018 to put together how to be more put together when all you want to do is pour some accelerator and light the match.

Aw yes, that balance between knowing you’re a human being with feelings and wishing you just fucking weren’t for five minutes (shout out to my dog who I constantly call a shit-head and she knows none the wiser)

It’s not easy, but it’s doable…

Below, I give you: the five steps I’ve personally taken to help me overcome that overwhelming feeling that someone has essentially rung you out to dry; but like…in the rain

1. First of all, why can’t I ever have a step one without thinking about who’s responsible for cutting the hole in the box?

1B. Know what hurts.

Ignorance isn’t bliss; it’s just ignorance.

It’s funny, cause when I was a kid and I’d try to express my feelings to my father in a snot-filled-traumatic-mumble-tantrum, he used to verbally face palm me with the same question every time: “uhhhhh, your what hurts?” Great question, I HAVE NO CLUE. It was such a vague and blanketed response to my belligerency that it actually made me stop and try to figure out who my real father was what was causing my pain so that I was more equipped to not only explain it, but ease it. Science has proven that both heartache and grief are both legitimate forms of measurable physical pain. Which means painkillers as simple as Aspirin are actually equally recommended for the heart as they are the head. For the record, I mentioned over the counter aspirin, so don’t go buck wild on prescription opioids cause Tommy from Tinder ghosted you after he asked you to be his arm candy at this years company Christmas party. Or do. Natural selection.

2. Be present.

I have a habit of extremes. The power of living (or not living) in the here and now is no exemption. I am either extremely engulfed in a moment to the point of full acceptance OR, I fly so far off the handle about future anxieties that it’s almost like you are all invited to the opening of my new theatric production of “I Am Nothing Without Him”. Solid soundtrack. The cast is a little iffy. I used to think that the first step was just admitting it, right?

Wrong, the first step is taking a deep breath and remembering that if the future seems like it’s already overwhelmingly hard, how’s right now going for you? I imagine if you aren’t starting by being really good at today, there’s no hope for tomorrow. You’re cheating on today’s happiness with tomorrow’s what if’s and frankly everyone loses. Except the guy who broke your heart and sent you into this uncomfortable spiral. He’s winning all the chips.

3. Distract.

If we’re all being honest with ourselves, there’s no easier way to get over heart ache than with a distraction. We have a scientifically studied part of the brain called the reward system that often is directly linked to the biological effects of rejection whilst being in love. When that reward system is unmanaged, it’s addictive patterns appreciate a diversion from pain and explore a more sought after feeling of pleasure.I imagine there will be backlash with how I achieve this step, and to that I say…get a hobby. Even if his name is Jared. As much as I’d like to suggest picking up a a new interest in a less taboo subject like hot yoga to “decompress and center yourself”, investing time into getting to know someone new has always effectively kept me from running back to the fire and placing my hand directly in it. Can’t say the same for the Child’s Pose.Maybe that’s a reflection of how much I see the good in people, even the bad ones. But if it takes me diving into a whole new batch of potential-bullshit just so I don’t skip back to confirmed-bullshit…let us all be stoked to be dealt another hand.

4. Be reflective, not reactive.

For the longest time, whenever I got ghosted (I say ghosted because dumped would mean the man who stopped talking to me would have to tell me why he stopped talking to me, and frankly I’m 0/456) I IMMEDIATELY rack my brain for what I could have possibly done wrong. And then I need to know what exactly I did/said, how it made all parties feel, what I could have done differently, AND how I fix not only it but world hunger, the California water shortage, the war on drugs…EVERYTHING. I NEED TO FIX EVERYTHING, IMMEDIATELY. Basically, I react so hard I don’t even have the energy to reflect. And when I found this out about myself, I made it one of the steps in not only overcoming heartbreak, but honestly eliminating the length of time before you’re at peace with the situation.

Reactions are quick, take less thought, and are…come to think of it synonymous with defining most of my past relationships. However, reflections are how I further more chose to handle any future heartache. We don’t need to know why someone chooses not to like love tolerate us. All we need is to handle rejection with grace and selflessness which will in turn outline our character and keep us on a path to who and what we deserve.

5. Surround Yourself With Love

Endorphins are the gateway drug guys. You feel love one time and it’s hard to want to be in a state of anything less. Heartache is, in my opinion, the epitome of pain because it’s not just superficial. It’s mental AND it’s physical. Your legs are weak, your brain is foggy, and your eyes are swollen from hours of both of those things colliding, making it hard to want to do anything more than replay what you’ve lost and sulk about how hard it might be to regain.

This is a piggyback on distractions, but it deserves its own step. There are people who love and adore you who have been placed on life’s back burner while you danced to the beat of falling for another sucker. They rooted for you knowing this day might come. So keep them close enough to remember what it’s like to be unconditionally supported, and bring them closer when your heart isn’t sure what that feels like anymore. There are probably a plethora of additional steps that we as individuals practice on a heartbreak to heartbreak basis, but these five above really drill home the attempt at a quick turn around for me personally. This is coming from the girl who is just happy to be alive enough to feel, even the bad shit.

Singled Out

Singled Out

Being romantically un-involved used to be an insecurity of mine. One that was carried around with me like a mole I refused to get checked. That was until, I went three plus years having the daunting misfortune of being single without any answers as to why it was so. At some point you just have to come to terms with your fate. Like being significantly tall with a love for heels or tone deaf amidst a family of singers. Most of the time I pretend it’s poor timing or bad luck, but I’m not so naive to believe i’m just not everyone’s cup of tea.

Right around year two I found myself noticing potential reasons, and verbally proclaiming “Yup, this is why I’m single” out loud. The list grew and frankly, if society can’t cope with my quirkiness, fuck it, I hope I never have to commit to being anybody other than me. Not even for frequent sex or someone to help paddle the boat back to shore.

My friends try to make me feel better by throwing Hail Mary’s like: “God’s just not done writing your love story yet”. That’s cute, but I just told potential suitor #1 that I’ve been known to make out with my dog longer than three seconds. Whoops. 


There are handfuls of explanations as to why I’m not married; most of them being because I’m really good at being single, and why screw up a good thing? Do something long enough, and we’re all pro’s. But below are what I think are some of the main causes in no particular order:

  • I’m temperature sensitive- meaning, I can barely think about anything else but being comfortable when it’s too hot or too cold. Some guys find that the amount of times I get up and down to turn on and off the air conditioner is in direct correlation with how indecisive I can be about literally everything else that I have minimal control over. Climate change is only making me more single. Personally, I think I look really cute in your sweatshirt AND also, absolutely nothing. I’ll inevitably tire myself out complaining about the weather, so in my defense…you’re welcome.
  • I’m a grammar Nazi- in light of the recent Charlottesville attacks, I realize that this verbiage may be too soon. But, that leads me to another reason why I’m probably single and that is that I forget the importance of filters. Also, I refuse to date a moron so when your dating profile is riddled with illiteracy I’m privy to assume that you’d turn me off quicker than a clap on lamp. People fancy being dumb, look who we elected president. Men these days don’t want their love letters spell checked, and I get that. But I’d rather be alone than receiving ‘cumming home to ur fine ass 2nite’. #killme
  • I realize dating is a game, and I’m done playing it- three years ago I hosted a personal walk off. I came to terms with the fact that there was nothing in the relationship I was in that would keep me interested in the sport forever. I got back into it; a couple innings here and there. Struck out hard. Not because I was afraid to swing, but because there were hecklers in the stands distracting me from a good play. And also because nobody plays fair. We live in a world where the only way out is cheating. Remember when we were kids? If we caught anybody peeking during heads up seven up, they were dead to us. Frankly, that’s how I roll out my rules as an adult.
  • I’m transparent- for a very long time, I refused to acknowledge that society would view this as a negative. But, I write a blog about bullshit that infuriates me, about the kind of love that excites me, and about reflective moments that I feel everyone can relate to. It’s a blessing and a curse and I see it from more points of view than most people think, but for every man it frightens it allows me a tiny bit of relief, and for that reason alone, I’d rather be single than be quiet. I remember a time when men would complain about their women not telling them how they feel, and making them “guess”. Give me three to five business days and you will have a full article on why I didn’t appreciate you eating the last yogurt… #noteveryonescupofyoplait
  • I’m compulsive- Sounds thrilling, right? I am certain there’s a guy out there for me, but if we are talking majority…I see why most men would find my bucket list overwhelming. I just want to make it to every country before the end of the weekend. Is that too much to ask? Not to be confused with spontaneity, because I usually think these things through way in advance, it’s just that once I set my mind to something I let it control me almost immediately. LAY OFF ME I’M STARVING.
  • I can’t dance- no, like I can’t even do the choreographed songs that come on at the bar. At all. Sweet Caroline? Too many bum-bum-bums…every time. I have less swag than a box of cracker jacks. My generation speaks in movement and I can barely fake-reel-in my dance floor fish without tripping over both left feet. I presume guys are more attracted to the stripper in another life type women. You win this round, twerk-angel.
  • I’m too busy sleeping- last, but certainly not least. If I could date a nap, I would. There is literally nothing more exciting to me than being unconscious from the world for 6-10 hours a day. And unless we meet in my dreams, I doubt we could make this work. I work long hours, on my feet all day and there’s just not enough minutes in a work day to completely be engulfed in a relationship sometimes. Whoever finds themselves changing my relationship status is going to be a professional pajama wearer, thank you 30’s!

I always believe that there’s no reason to be in a relationship until you meet someone who makes your life better than it is when you’re not in one. When I put it that way, it sounds like quite the feat. But, I’m not at a total loss just yet. There’s always hope that someone is going to be a genius wordsmith with dashing good looks, minimal interest in dancing and zero fear. Did I mention ‘smells like bacon’? Hey, a girl can dream…

Rest in [finding your] Peace.

Rest in [finding your] Peace.

There are a lot of things I am willing to fight for. My family, my friends, my integrity. If I’m being totally honest, I wish my defensiveness subsided with my growing pains. But it didn’t. And if you call me a liar, I’ll show you a liar who’s also hell-bent on making sure you know better than to call me a liar again. If that sounds scary, it is. I deal with that kind of blind rage from time to time and only a handful of people in this life have provided me with tools to combat the intense need to get my point across. I’m not proud of it. Nobody’s proud of how they got here, only that they made it.

This week I learned an invaluable lesson. I lost my best friend [and a mother to the same scenario in earlier months] but gained a huge perspective about my role as a human being.

I am not here to fix you.

I will only love you as much as you let me without hindering my own happiness. 

“Adults don’t get to tell other adults how to behave” she said, as the pain of my mistakes drew whatever was left in the salty canals of my bloodshot eyes. My sister has a way of always reminding me that whatever sadness I’m feeling is only in direct correlation to a poor decision on my part. On letting someone do damage, by giving them a platform to upset me. She was right. She’s always right. 

Since when was it such a crime to tell others that what they were doing wasn’t OK? Especially if you weren’t totally convinced that they knew better. And I wasn’t. But that wasn’t my place. I’m an adult and adults don’t get to offer unsolicited advice; the downfall of so many relationships.

Nobody was there to prepare me for the kill. Just like that, I fired the bullet directly into the weakest part of my favorite friendship. And silenced it’s existence in one shot. Looking back on it, sabotage is just my guide’s way of making sure I pull the proverbial trigger quick enough to blast any opportunity of survival straight out of the park. They know I hang on to pieces. They couldn’t let me find pieces.

I entertained the idea that enough good outweighed the bad for entirely too long. I made sure to make excuses for the things that brought me anxiety and only highlighted the moments I knew you weren’t sick. But, we’re all a little sick when it comes down to it. I was sick of you and your were sick of you and we were both pretty fed up with pretending we weren’t always one “I’m running late” text away from giving up on each other.

But we were soul friends; the kind of person you could sit in complete silence with and feel comforted. I loved you like a sister, down to making sure whatever happiness you needed me to create, I’d manifest at my soonest convenience. I knew you better than you wanted to believe I did, and I probably won’t ever get enough credit for the way I handled the pain you created every time you abandoned me without reason. You knew exactly how to fail me. And in letting you do that, I failed me.

Nobody to blame, but myself.

Rest  in (finding your) peace.

Round 3. *Ding*

Round 3. *Ding*

“So, what you’re saying is, this relationship you’re working on is the definition of insanity?” 

By definition, my relationship with him is a lot of things. Its intense. It’s insecure. It’s perilous. But what it’s grown into; from before, is far more important than what defines the path we took to get here. 

Ok, fine. By definition, maybe I’m a little crazy. But by definition, I’m also unapologetically in love. In terms of chemistry, for me love isn’t all of the feels that can be mistaken for lust. Love is risky. And those who take the most risks are often thought to be farthest from sane. Call me the Evel Knievel of relationships and move along…

Upon arrival home, I sat at a bar with my best friend, appetizer in cue. The air was cold, but my heart was warm. I was curious about how others viewed my triple attempt at dating the same man within five years and three states. Surprisingly, she didn’t have the same sour response as the stranger who pegged me as insane prior. She reminded me of her rocky on-again-off-again relationship of five years and how it didn’t matter how many times she felt hate in her heart, it was never enough to give up. That this was what defined love; the risk of being hurt and being able to overcome those challenges. We’re all reckless. Doesn’t matter if it’s round one, two or twenty four

I, like most, often fall victim to believing that relationships portrayed on social media are “perfect”. That nobody has bad days, or bad years, certainly never bad lives. [Holy definition of insanity batman] Everybody’s pretty bad at love, if even for a moment. If being bad at something stopped me from trying it ever again, Id be a pretty sorry excuse for a human being. 

I’m sure you’re wondering why not leave my ex in the past, you know, where Ive left him before, and where he’s also left me. Frankly, I don’t need to explain why I’m going back for more, but I do know that a substantial amount of time has passed to lead me to believe that resolutions have transpired and life has handed me an opportunity far more pertinent to his and I’s happiness than ever before. Timing can be a real bitch (see blog 1-75) 

If you don’t think it’s possible to fall in love with something more than once, travel more. I went to the Grand Canyon when I was young. I sat in the car and complained about how tired my feet were. And then I drudgingly walked to the edge and felt my stomach turn. I knew then that I wanted to be on the edge of things that were completely out of my control on grand scales, with good people. And when I went back ten years later as an adult, it strummed my heart strings with the same frequency as its premier. I wanted a thousand encores. 

With him, I always want more. Encores on encores. And when it ends, if it ends; hell EVERY TIME it ended….I never stopped searching for us; for our sequel; our trilogy, praying we won’t need a saga. With every fear I have of failure, comes hope for something bigger and better than anything I was ever offered in the past. So, call me crazy. Call me whatever you want. Just don’t call me on a Friday after six cause, well,  I’m dating my ex, for the third time…and I’m not afraid to say it.