Lifestyle – M A T E J K A

Levelled Up!

September 17th of this year I turned 30.
A month ago (yesterday!) I celebrated with a day that I will never forget.

Turning thirty was an incredible milestone for me.
Most people from my generation that I’ve spoken to, who have either passed this marker of life or are creeping up to it quickly, express their lack of excitement for the same.

For me, it’s a joyous occasion. One that I wasn’t even sure I would be here to see.
I’ve dealt with a lot of trauma and mental health issues over the course of my life thus far, and there were times that I fully expected to not reach this age. Sometimes, the darkness just felt too heavy and it was more than I could bear.

I’m glad I got here.

Thirty is a beautiful privilege. It’s afforded me opportunities, experiences, and relationships that I would have missed. It’s provided me with wisdom, security, self-acceptance, and the knowledge that I am worth so much. It’s proven to me that I have a purpose on this Earth.

Turning 30 was a momentous occasion, so it was only appropriate that the day of celebration reflect that.

I was so fortunate that I was able to have Leaving Thomas come and play for my closest family and friends. It was a celebration for myself, but it was also a token of appreciation for those in my life who have stood by me, who have supported me, and who have guided me; a thank you, if you will.

I also had the incredible honour of joining Annika and Bryton on stage to sing on of my favourite LT songs, “Wreckage”. It was really fun to see all of the reactions to our little surprise!

Check out the video below, OR head over HERE to their YouTube channel (and have a gander at the rest of their content – they’re totally worth the visit)

I was also lucky enough to have my boyfriend capture the evening in photographs, but I won’t share those photos here to protect the privacy of my guests (aside from these with my BFF who couldn’t care less LOL)

❤ ❤ ❤

Forty Nine

DISCLAIMER: There is strong language used in this post. #SorryNotSorry for it. I’m fed up.

I started this blog primarily as a fashion blog. To essentially play dress up with my favourite outfits and share them all with you. I’ve always been complimented for my sense of style, so it’s been fun to share my creations and to gather inspiration from others! For a while now though, I’ve been finding my love of the fashion world dwindling, and after this past week, it’s safe to say: fashion can FUCK OFF.

Yep, I said it, and part of me can’t even believe it, but there it is. Now I think I understand better why some (most) women hate shopping for themselves. I am feeling SO defeated and just…nothing positive, so I won’t even express those feelings out loud.

Since I started my medications about 2 months ago for my depression and anxiety, I have gained a significant amount of weight – about 12 pounds. It wasn’t super shocking; I expected this knowing weight gain was a potential side effect. While that might not sound like much, in 2 months on my 5’5″ frame – that’s a lot… and honestly, I hadn’t really given it much thought; if I did, I would redirect those thoughts in a positive direction.

👉👉👉 re: cute little belly is cute.

Standing in *generic store name here* though, I found that an impossible task to do. I could not escape the extra weight in those lovely 360 degree mirrors. You know, those mirrors that I swear to GOD are designed to highlight every “flaw” you have and implant a deep-seated hatred towards yourself – one that has you walking out having spent more money than you intended when you walked in in an effort to curb the loathing.

Walking in wearing a size 6 pant with room in the waist, having to choose size 8 and 10 from the racks, and struggle to gain the cooperation and permission of my newly thicker thighs, I felt a very familiar disgust towards what I saw in the mirror. I gave up. I just stood there in my skivvies, bare and vulnerable, going over every inch of my new body with a fine-toothed comb. I’ve been working SO HARD on building and promoting self-love and positive affirmation when I gaze at my reflection, and all it took was 5 fucking minutes in a dressing room to unravel all the work I had done. The industry that I had so loved before had enormously let me down.

I was disgusted; disgusted at the dimples and extra rolls that stared back at me, and disgusted at myself for having fallen back into this trap of negativity.

That disgust SHOULD be directed at the companies who clearly don’t know how to size clothing anymore (how can I be 3+ sizes at one fucking time?!), but my disdain immediately went to my newly developed ponch and I wanted to just admit defeat and cry.

In talking with others, and in seeing different posts on the internet regarding this exact topic, I just wonder… How does the fashion industry think that it’s okay or even necessary to vary clothing sizes so greatly? (Anyone else remember when they were one size in every single store, but are now probably any variation between 4-6 different sizes?) How can they do so knowing how this will absolutely affect girls and women psychologically? Anyone in fashion familiar with the phrase, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”???

WHEN DOES IT END? WHERE DO YOU DRAW THE FUCKING LINE?!

Had I been younger, this experience would have had me revisiting my ED tendencies. I’m struggling to keep those thoughts at bay even now…

Fortunately, there is always a silver lining. For me, it’s that I have my eyes wide open to the stats and the struggles that I was so blind to in my privilege before. My whole life, even previous to my dealing with anorexia and bulimia, I have been tiny statured by nature. I was always able to go into any store and find something that fit, and that I felt great in. I never understood why some people hated shopping. I never recognized the struggle that others faced because I couldn’t relate to it..and I have no problem admitting that now. I was naive.

While we’re here, let’s review some stats, shall we?

According to a 2002 survey, 28% of girls in grade nine and 29% in grade ten engaged in weight-loss behaviours (in a class of 30 students, that’s roughly 8 to 9 people).
37% of girls in grade nine and 40% in grade ten perceived themselves as too fat (in a class of 30 students, that’s roughly 11 to 12 people). Even among students of normal-weight (based on BMI), 19% believed that they were too fat, and 12% of students reported attempting to lose weight.
In a survey of adolescents in grades 7–12, 30% of girls and 25% of boys reported teasing by peers about their weight. Such teasing has been found to persist in the home as well – 29% of girls and 16% of boys reported having been teased by a family member about their weight.
Body-based teasing can have a serious impact on girls’ attitudes and behaviours. According to one study, girls who reported teasing by family members were 1.5 TIMES MORE LIKELY to engage in binge-eating and extreme weight control behaviours five years later.
In a study of 14–15 year old adolescents, girls who engaged in strict dieting practices were 18 TIMES MORE LIKELY to develop an ED within six months than non-dieters, and had almost a 20% chance of developing an ED within one year
At least 30 million people of all ages and genders suffer from an eating disorder in the U.S.
Every 62 minutes at least one person dies as a direct result from an eating disorder.
Eating disorders have the highest morality rate of any mental illness.
13% of women over 50 engage in eating disorder behaviours.
16% of transgender college students reported having an eating disorder.
Eating disorders affect all races and ethnic groups.

These stats (and others) can be found here and here.

More than anything, I’m fucking angry. This bullshit that if you’re not between the sizes of 000 and 3 that you’re not valid or worthy is just that – BULLSHIT. That if you don’t look like the woman on the cover of a magazine, you’re not acceptable. You know, that woman who doesn’t even look like the woman on the cover of the magazine? Yeah.

FUCK these societal standards and FUCK these oppressive fashion standards.

What’s unacceptable is how the modern fashion world operates in tandem with society; what’s NOT is YOUR BODY. I find my love of the fashion world diminishing because I can no longer cater so heavily to an industry that literally propels itself on the destruction of the very demographic it’s created for.

It’s not that I didn’t realize these things before. It’s that I ignored them, turned a blind eye, because I felt like they didn’t directly affect me. All you have to do is flip open a history book to see how productive that mind-set really is…

So going forward, this is what I want you to take away from this rant:

I can’t say that I won’t ever do any fashion posts again. It’s not true, and I’d be lying to myself and to you if I said it. But I will do my absolutely best to shop consciously and create in a way that is body positive and inclusive. I’m still learning and growing myself. I hope you’ll allow me the space I need to expand my thinking, and the constructive criticism that will help me get to a better place.

Women can be vicious creatures, especially towards one another. I hope that we can create a #GuildofGirls who pledge to stand up for and support each other, while standing against those who seek to pit us against one another and tear us apart.

MOST IMPORTANTLY:
You don’t have to be thin to be worthy of happiness, love and acceptance; you don’t have to be thin to BE happy and loved and accepted.

You don’t have to strive to look airbrushed 100% of the time. You don’t need to keep hurting yourself to fit into a mould that isn’t even REAL. A favourite quote of mine is: “Beyonce doesn’t even look like Beyonce.” Cut yourself some slack. You are a bona fide beauty just the way you are.

That cellulite, those belly rolls, those angel wings (aka extra flap of skin under your arms) – EVERY SINGLE WOMAN has at least one of the above. It’s normal, it’s okay, it’s beautiful. You don’t have to be ashamed of these parts of yourself.

IT’S OKAY TO STRUGGLE WITH HOW YOU FEEL WHEN CHANGES HAPPEN TO YOU AND TO YOUR BODY. I’ve been struggling to accept my new body, but I’m trying, and that’s what matters.

Unfollow those IG accounts that have you uttering hateful things about yourself every time you browse them. Stop reading magazines if the only reason you’re picking them up is to measure yourself against what you’ll find inside. Respectfully ask those in your life to refrain from commenting on your body, and be okay with letting negative people go in order to maintain your own sanity. Seek out body positive people in your life, and in your social medias. Reach out and ask for help, or lend support to others who are needing it. We are all in this together more than we even realize.

“Your body is not the enemy”. No. It absolutely is not.

You are SO MUCH MORE than what you look like.

Cover photo courtesy of Wear Your Label
Shirt available for purchase here. Use “MAYETTE10” to save! ❤

#BellLetsTalk

Hi Marshmallows!

blt

It’s one of my favourite days of the year

Just a few years ago, I would have had a very different reaction for this day (hint: it wouldn’t have been excitement…). I would have done everything I could to spend the day like a hermit and avoid conversing at all costs. It’s a dark place to be in when even you’re afraid of your mental health struggles.

However, today is a different day and a different time; the further I come on my mental health journey, the easier it gets to talk about the obstacles I face and advocate for abolishing the stigma so others feel safe in sharing their stories, too.

So – #BellLetsTalk about how it’s OKAY to make noise about Mental Health. It’s OKAY to struggle and talk about those struggles. It’s OKAY to have bad days. It’s OKAY to give an honest answer when someone asks you, “So how are you REALLY doing?”.

Donning my #AnxietyAlliance tee proudly from @wearyourlabel to let others know that I’m anxious, too, and it’s a welcome and safe invitation to enter a conversation about it

All of us have hardships and struggles, and lately my anxiety has been a real big one for me. I’ve had crippling days; days where I can’t get out of bed, let alone even think about leaving my house. Days where I feel like I’m not good enough for anything. Days where it all just becomes so overwhelming. Days where I honestly think things will just never, ever start to get better. But they do, and they have. Had I known that reaching out for help and telling my story to someone sooner would have resulted in my healing beginning a lot sooner, I wouldn’t have suffered in silence for so long. My eyes were also opened to just how many incredible, supportive, loving people I had around me when I allowed the walls to fall and the dam to break, and I am so SO grateful for each and every one of them. I would not be able to so openly stand up and share my story today if not for them all. I may not even have been standing here at all. ALL my love and support right back. xoxo

And I want you to know, if you’re reading this and struggling, that it’s okay to not be okay and it’s okay to ask for help if you’re ready to take that step. You are valid, you are worthy, and you’re so NOT alone in your journey. Whether you realize or not, there is a community of warriors and of survivors that will take you by the hand and support you every step along the way.

It takes a lot, for a lot of people, to talk about what they have experienced or what they are going through, and so I just want to throw out a huge THANK YOU to everyone who has shared their story today. I’ve seen so many brave, inspiring stories full of strength on my News Feeds…far more than I’ve ever seen – and what an incredible sight, indeed.

Your openness, willingness, and trust is helping to pave this road so that those who have come before us, those who are with us, and those who will come after us will have a much smoother journey. From someone who has only recently taken the first steps toward the sunshine, that is something so amazing.

Today is not just for today. Let’s keep the conversations going for the next 364 days. Not all of us struggle with mental health obstacles, but we all have mental health to take care of.

All my love to all of you XOXO Never be too humble to reach out.

Forty Six

Hello Marshmallows!

It’s 2017! A whole new year!

I’ve been thinking about doing a New Year post for, well, precisely 9 days now.

As New Years posts go, they generally include some kind of “New Year Resolution”…though, I’ve tried really hard this year to not have anything specific, or anything written in stone. As history would show, I don’t have the best luck with them. Generally when I would profess any kind of resolution in the past, it wouldn’t actually end anywhere other than my own misery and disappointment. In light of this fact, I’ve decided this year to throw any and all promises of doing out the window, and allow myself the space to just do.

Resolutions are usually always about “new year, new me”, but I don’t need to be a “new me”. I don’t want to be, either. Instead, I want to simply look back on how much stronger I am, how much I’ve grown, and the things I’ve actually accomplished without obligation. Instead, I want to look forward to how much I have to gain, how many possibilities are out there to grab hold of, and concentrate on becoming a better version of yesterday’s self.

In expressing that, I also decided that this was the perfect timing to throw all caution to the wind and start living my life FOR ME.

Which is why I did this:

Yep! I took a HUGE leap of faith and just did it.
#PinkHairDontCare *insert sassy emoji girl here*
(thanks to my amazing stylist, Jesse! ❤ ❤ ❤ )

My Christmas gift to myself was to do something I’ve wanted to do for years but never actually had the cajones to do. I’d been too afraid of what people would say, or how people would react, that I was always able to talk myself out of doing something that I really wanted because of someone else – or a few someone elses. Isn’t that how it always goes?

(Can we just take a moment to acknowledge how CRAZY that sounds when you say it out loud?!)

I can’t even express how freeing and magical it feels to throw everyone else’s opinions out the window. I’m finally allowing it all to be on MY terms now – how it should have been all along. No more second guessing my own happiness for the thoughts of others and the fear of what that might bring. No more allowing anyone else to dictate how my story should and will be written.

People will forever have opinions about you. People will always judge you.
For anything, for everything.

Forget the haters and do whatever the hell you want. THEIR OPINIONS DON’T MATTER. You do. Your opinions matter. Your happiness matters the most.

It’s been almost 2 weeks now that I’ve had pink hair, and the only regret I have is that I didn’t do it sooner. Every single time I see it in the mirror, I can’t help but smile and giggle. It makes me SO HAPPY, and it’s brought me a level of confidence that I wasn’t sure would ever exist.

For the first time in almost 30 years (that’s a LONG FRIGGING TIME PEOPLE), I finally – truly – feel more like the me that was meant to be in this body than ever. I don’t care if people think I’m weird, or different, or too “out there”, or “not conservative enough”. It doesn’t matter. Whether people love my hair, or whether people hate my hair – it makes absolutely no difference to me because I adore it, and that’s the bottom line. Being “normal” is far over-rated (what is normal, anyway?), and life is utterly too short to not have fun.

On a related note, I suppose the same can be said about myself in general. Somehow with my fuschia locks, I am newly entitled to this freedom to just BE ME – whatever that actually looks like. I’ve thought a lot about this blog and what I want it to look like, and I’ve realized that I’ve been lying to myself this whole time. I’ve been trying to fit myself into this pre-constructed mould of what I SHOULD look like in the blogging world. Instead of writing about and sharing the things that bring me joy completely, I’ve been neglectful and resentful because I feel like I can’t keep par.

Fashion is one of the things that I am passionate about, but there are SO MANY OTHERS from all different facets, excluding the fashion world. I’ve decided that I’m going to turn the focus from this being an exclusive blog about fashion to a blog just simply about me – and whatever that entails. Whether that be mental health, or what I wore to the movies, or the newest adventure I’ve been on. It’s not going to have a specific topic focus. It’s going to be messy, a little all over the map, and have some kinks and quirks that I will not iron out. It’s going to be “everything but the kitchen sink”, so-to-speak – and that’s just how it should be because that’s just how I am; a little bit of everything.

So … I have absolutely no idea what this means going forward, but I’m hoping that I will be able to once again find the jubilation in writing, and in creating. Whether you like me, whether you hate me, or whether you simply just tolerate me – it makes not much of a difference. This is a journey I’ve begun – to start living and doing – for me, and no one else. But, if you’re on this journey with me, regardless … thank you. I’m looking forward to what will unfold.

❤

Forty Three

I’m just going to start this off by saying that I had the BEST NIGHT EVER last night.

Disclaimer: This post is going to be regarding Terri Clark’s Back to My Roots solo acoustic tour…what I thought, how I felt, what I experienced, what I wore – you know, basically everything there is in the hand basket.

Last night was a great night. I (as mentioned above) attended Terri Clark’s Back to My Roots solo acoustic tour – and it was honestly everything I thought it would be, and more.

My evening started off a little hectic. I was running late, rushing to get ready after work. I had requested Meet and Greet passes, and was confirmed for them, so I was as stressed as a balloon in a vice that I wouldn’t get there in time. I still had to travel to Calgary, find my way to the casino, AND find parking. Luckily, we made it! *phew*

Meet and Greets are always so fun, yet I always feel like I mess them up just by being my socially awkward self. THE PRESSURE.

This time, I was determined as ever to have it go smoothly. For the 20 minutes I had before I went into that little room, I went over and over and OVER what I was going to say in my head. As I got nearer and nearer to the meeting point, I started sweating more profusely (thank God I remembered deodorant), though I was still (shakily) confident that our exchange would go as planned….until it didn’t. LOL *sigh* As I walked up to greet her, the ladies behind me caught her eye (they obviously knew one another) and her excitement (sweet as it was, bless her heart) TOTALLY threw me off my game; everything I had planned to say disappeared from my mind like someone had hit Control-A-Delete. And, just as I’d feared, my socially awkward self came rearing forward to take control of the situation, and it ended in a pretty hilarious, yet cringe-worthy (on my end) exchange.

(Sorry, Ms Clark!)

PS – I wanted to tell you that your vest game is A++ lately, but you know, social anxiety…!

PSS: How cute is my mom?!

After completely embarrassing myself once again, I was happy to go and find my seat so I could immerse myself in the music and forget all about how badly I need to work on my social cues. I have to say, I’m pretty sure I ended up with one of the best seats in the house. Front row, almost centre. It don’t get better than that!

Now, I’ve been to a few of Terri Clark’s shows before, and they’re always a good time. She’s an enormously talented entertainer, both in song and in story…however, this particular show seemed different – in a great way. As it’s a solo acoustic tour, which means there’s no band and no fancy travelling along with her, it had an air of magic about it. Maybe it’s just me, but I felt like last night we got to experience the truest Terri behind the Award-Winning persona. It was hard NOT to have fun right along with her; the joy she was experiencing just radiated off the stage and into the audience like a mist. She, of course, sang her songs – as singers usually do (I was so happy to hear so many classics in the mix!), she made some beats (whilst we talked amongst ourselves), she had us all splitting a gut with her story telling (particularly in reference to those majestic Rocky Mountains), and I was both mesmerized and ready to spill out of my chair in laughter when she presented us with her John Anderson covers.

She touched us all by including “Smile” in her set list once again. Though she gracefully, and beautifully, sang her way through it, I can’t say the same for the rest of us. I’m not sure there was a dry eye in the house…and I couldn’t help but have been brought back to when Ms. Clark played at the Westerner Days in Red Deer in 2012. “Smile” was on the set list then, too, and I remember thinking, as she sang her heart out with tears streaming down her cheeks, “Now THAT is strength, grace and love.”

The night seemed to just fly…had it gone on until the wee hours of the morning, I would not have had a care in the world – even though I still had to travel home and work the next day. I didn’t get many photos, in part because I don’t want to be that annoying person who blocks the view with my phone the entire time, but also (and more importantly) I was just enjoying myself far too much, and remaining too firmly in the present to pay much mind to anything else other than what was unfolding in front of me.

I’ve been fortunate enough to see many concerts in my time so far, and I know I’ve probably said it before, but real talk: this show truly, genuinely, was the greatest show I’ve ever attended. It was raw, and it felt more like a giant get-together with your closest friends. Terri is SO funny, so goofy, and charming as hell. She’s a genuine soul, who delivers the whole authentic package, and who is so humble that I don’t even think her reflection acknowledges her fame. When asked what the best part of being a celebrity was, her response was simply, “I’m a celebrity?” … I mean, COME ON. If that doesn’t make you smile…

I’ve been a fan of Terri Clark’s for as long as I can remember…and I’ll remain a fan of hers until I’m old and grey and can’t remember anything anymore.

My advice to you is this:
if you love good, home-grown country, you need to snag yourself some tickets to this tour.
If you’re a TC fan already, then you’ll walk away an even bigger fan.
If you’re not, you definitely will be post show.

(and also, what is wrong with you?! How are you not already a fan?!)

(Rocking my new TC Logo Raglan Tee! EEEEEEEEEE…and puppy filter, because you know I’m obsessed)

Flashback Moment – I’ll never, ever, forget my very first M&G with Terri. I was 12, and I was obsessed with the colour green, as I recall. I literally wore a green turtleneck, with lime green eyeshadow packed onto my lids like icing on a cake, and my khaki green nylon purse from Wal-Mart. When I found out that I had to go in alone (my mom didn’t have a pass) I was so scared that I almost didn’t even go. I remember as I walked into the room and up to shake Terri’s hand (she must have smelled my fear), she immediately opened up with the warmest of hello’s and complimented profusely my lovely purse from Wally World. I was just this awkward little kid who didn’t know much what to say, but that experience has stayed with me all these years, and still puts a smile on my face 🙂 (Now if only I could find that old photo…)

❤

Now, as promised, what I wore:

(Please excuse the wrinkles in the backdrop. I don’t have a steamer and I wasn’t expecting to use it so soon! I’m such a professional… haha! But hey, I never promised or claimed to have my poop in a group. Please don’t judge me.)

BTW: This Raglan Tee is available here if you want one 🙂 It’s SO COMFY.

Forty One

I am horrible at this blogging thing. lol
With Instagram, it’s so easy to just have access to everything at your fingertips.
(So if you have Instagram, follow me there! You’ll see me much more active on that platform – @thewardrobe_key 😉 )

*sigh*

Here’s an outfit that got lost in the archives from a few weeks back.
I was so excited to wear this – the weather had cooled off quite a bit previously, but from out of nowhere popped a warm fall day (much like today!) and I could actually go out with bare legs and not be cold! … I live for days like that living with Canadian winters.

Knit top: H&M
Denim dress: Garage Clothing
Boots: Guess
Bag: Dug up from the bottom of my closet (cir. I have no idea what year…)

I LOVE pairing baggy knits over, well, everything when the temps get cooler and the leaves start changing. /swoon

When you’re walking past the haters like:

Hope you lovelies had a wonderful weekend!

❤

Thirty Four

Well hellooooooo.
I found a new love, and it’s not fashion.

This is why I have been MIA. I’ve been thinking about climbing, learning about climbing, and doing the climbing. It’s been amazing.

Actually, this whole year has been pretty incredible so far, but particularly these last few months. I am learning SO much about myself, and I am just feeling so much more comfortable from every angle that I scope. I’ve been discovering the authenticity that’s been hiding within all this time; it’s incredibly liberating. The genuine happiness and care-free frolicking that follows is unmatched.

I am of the Earth element, and I am finding out that I am absolutely an Earth-bound soul. I love to experience everything about the literal Earth that surrounds me. Naturally, it only makes sense that hanging off a wall with my hands covered in chalk just feels like home.

Everything about climbing just feels like home. It really nurses the gypsy heart that beats within my chest. I am fast finding out just how wonderful, supportive and welcoming the climbing community is. It’s packed full of good people; my kinda people.

I am so excited for this next adventure in my life, so I apologize now for the inevitable increase in flightiness and absence. But as they say, you gotta follow your heart. 😉

Now, on that note – I did stumble upon (rather randomly) something that I’ve been struggling with basically since puberty. That “tousled-beach-wave” look. SERIOUSLY. Why does the undone look take SO MUCH DOING?!

If you, too, have struggled with this – please appreciate my 11 Step instructions below (profanities are a free bonus…you’ll know what I mean).

11 Steps to Perfectly Undone Hair
Step 1: Wash hair at night, as you normally would.
Step 2: Towel dry hair, shake to release. DO NOT BRUSH.
Step 3: Go to bed.
Step 4: Wake up in morning, tousle with fingers. (AGAIN) DO NOT BRUSH.
Step 5: Go about your daily business (we’ll refine your “undone” look later).
Step 6: In evening, run fingers through matted hair to ‘brush’ … (good luck)
Step 7: Plug in flat iron. Heat to desired setting.
Step 8: Grab random chunks of hair in no particular pattern. Run through flat iron in curling motion at fairly quick pace.
Step 9: Leave random strands that escape flat iron’s grip. Leave random strands that refuse to curl like the others. Leave random globs of hair that have matted together. They’ll be hidden. JUST TWIST ONCE AND GO WITH IT.
Step 10: Shake the shit out of it. Crop-dust with hairspray and scrunch.
Step 11: Leave house because you look fabulously “undone”.

Et, VOILA! Magnificent!

You’re welcome.

Outfit Details
Top – HM Coachella Collection (2016)
Fringe Duster – Stitches
Jeans – Ardene (I KNOW)
Shoes – Winners (#FabFind)
Glasses – Tahari (Winners – #FabFind)

Thirty One

Today’s post is not going to be about fashion. It’s going to be about something so much greater. It’s going to be long, and full of photos. Some of these photos are flattering, some are not. Most of them I had no idea were being taken but each of them has a story, and each of them carries an emotion. I wasn’t expecting my journey to be captured in such a raw and authentic way…but for that, I am ever so grateful to my wonderful boyfriend who, in his pride for me, decided to document the steps of my journey – both good and bad. I couldn’t have asked for a greater gift.

Yesterday, I began the journey to conquering my fears.

One of those is a crippling fear of heights.
Like, we’re talking heart-stopping, throat-tightening, won’t-even-walk-near-a-second-floor-railing-in-a-mall fear of heights.

So naturally, I decided to climb a mountain.

This whole thing started a week ago. My boyfriend and I went on a casual hike in the mountains to Heart Creek Trail. While we were there, he took notice of Heart Mountain, which the trail runs alongside.

His first instinct – “Wow! I want to climb that.”
Mine? – “Are you INSANE?!”

But the day went on, and the more I thought about it, the more the idea intrigued me. It wasn’t until we saw other climbers along it’s edge that I started to think, “Okay, we could totally do that. It can’t be that hard.” So with very few hours left in the day (and a watch telling us the incorrect time), we set out to find where this mountain climb began.

We made it (what we thought) about half way up, until the weather turned and a storm started rolling in. I’ve watched enough movies and documentaries to know that when weather on a mountain starts to change, you don’t take it lightly. I made the executive decision to turn around and head back down, though my win did not come without a fight. We decided that we would try again, and next time we would make it.

Fast forward a week to April 10. We once again found ourselves standing at the base of Heart Mountain. This time more determined than ever, and clearly having brought our naivety along with us for the ride. Our previous venture had seemed like a breeze. I was surprisingly not scared at all, given the circumstances, and regardless of the insane reviews that we had read since our first failed attempt, I was totally convinced that this would be a cake walk.

I was not at all prepared for the experience I was willingly walking right into.

I was doing this to face a demon, a fear that has plagued me intensely in my adult life. I had expected there to be some physical challenge, but I could never have prepared myself for the psychological torture I was about to be drug through.

The first part (what we now realize was about a quarter) of the hike went smooth like our first attempt. We both took notice that we didn’t have the same energy as the last time, but we chalked that up to lack of sleep/lack of heat/lack of warm up/lack of oxygen… basically any excuse we could give ourselves that would convince us to keep going.

Great start, amiright lol

See? Breezy!

Everything was truly going dandy, until we breached our previous turn-around point.

It was in this moment that I was playing the comedian and scoffed, “Oohh looks like the fun really starts here!”, but little did I know how accurate my ‘comedy’ would become.

The thought that I was maybe in for more than I realized crossed my mind, but I quickly shot that down and told myself it was just nerves. I’ve never climbed a mountain before!

I even took a moment to twerk a little since my boyfriend is a genius and brought along a portable radio for us. (I can’t believe he actually took a picture of this LOL)

Werk, werk, werk, werk, werk, werk…

Peekaboo!

Ahh, still happy! Still quite clueless.

I had already had a few moments of having to reiterate to myself that I could do this, that I was capable… though it was previous to this point that I had decided it was time to put up the blinders, and try my damnedest to NOT look left or right – and ESPECIALLY DO NOT LOOK BEHIND YOU/DOWN.

CHEERS! (Obligatory tourist shot)

Moving forward didn’t seem so bad now. I was keeping my eyes on the prize aka staring directly at the ground in front of me, only briefly looking up and forward to remain on path and nothing else.

It was here that my first true anxiety attack came on. I had tears well up in my eyes, my throat started to close in and restrict my already low intake of oxygen…I was shaking so badly I thought I would slide right off the side of the mountain.

I actually had to stop and bring myself into Tree Pose to reground. RIDICULOUS, right?! My boyfriend had a mild heart attack when he saw me standing on one leg on the side of the mountain. It took everything in me to calm my nerves and re-centre myself to keep going; that tiny bit of yoga that I brought with me made a world of difference in that moment.

In fact, here is a photo I took just after I got myself together; for the first time in a long time I snuck a peek to my left…and just about shit my pants. There’s the slope for ya!

I muttered to myself, “Terrible idea…” and owned a moment of self-hatred for straying from my plan of action.

I reminded myself, swallowing the lump in my throat, that I could do this, that I was safe. That I needed to put those blinders back up and everything would be just peachy!

Yeah. Safe. Peachy. All good!

Well, it must have worked, because my smile was back!

(Or maybe that had to do with having no idea that THIS was behind me!?!)

It didn’t last for long. Tackle one hurdle, only to come face to face with another more challenging one. If it wasn’t having to navigate our way up increasingly steeper slopes, it was having to straight up free style rock climb over a ridge (or two).

It was here that I looked up, said, “Are you f***ing kidding me!…”, turning to my boyfriend like:

He chuckled at my expression, and I half hoped I was joking – although seeing this photo now, there is no denying the truth behind it. I was terrified and feeling defeated. I had made it through the first rock climb required and was hoping with all hope that I wouldn’t have to repeat it. But here we were.

I can’t count the number of times that I said both inside my head and out loud, “Why the hell did I think this was a good idea?”…and I wouldn’t know the answer to that question for another almost 2 hours.

Being the sweet man he is, my boyfriend softly suggested I try a more upbeat approach. We had both been reciting positive mantras to the other when one of us started to question our inner confidences. It served to help the other, but I think it helped ourselves more.

So I responded:

Fake it ’til you make it, right?!

I had a moment of utter weakness at this point, and all I could think was, “I can’t fucking do this. There is NO WAY that I can do this. If I somehow find a way up, there’s no way I’ll find a way down.”

Out of nowhere, like the clouds parting and the rays of the sun bursting through, I got a second wind; I had come up for a breath of air.

“F**K IT. What am I doing?! I’m bad ass!!! I can totally do this. I’m just gonna do it, and that’s that!”

Off I went with gumption.

That confidence lasted all of 5 minutes.

“Babe, look back here for a second.”
“No thanks.”
“Come on! Just a quick second.”
“… okay fine.”

CHEESE!

And, in this moment of looking back when I promised myself that I wouldn’t – my friend Annie Anxiety had returned. ALL that consumed my thoughts now was, “How the fuck am I going to get off of this mountain if I keep going? I can’t keep going. I have to turn around. I’m probably already stuck here.”

A little voice inside me started to speak and I remembered the reason why I was doing this – that I was fighting against this very thought – and it gave me strength to push on. I had already made it THIS far and there was no damn way I was doing this a third time. Now or never. We were way too close to the summit to pack up now.

Onward! Pull those big girl panties up. Find a way.

NAILED IT.

A short while later and we had reached our destination! SUMMIT! FINALLY!

Nothing could have prepared me for the emotion that would hit me like a freight train.

All I could do was cry (and thank God for sunglasses 😉 ).

The pride that overwhelmed me was incredible.

I DID IT. I ACTUALLY DID IT. I’M SITTING HERE THOUSANDS OF FEET IN THE AIR AND I’M STILL TERRIFIED BUT I’M HERE. I MADE IT.

The tears that I swallowed, the trembling, the fear that I had to continually beat down inside of me – to push my body and my mind past its absolute limits – all for this moment. This achievement. This victory.

Now I understood why I knew this was a good idea.

I drank it in like nectar to a bee.

And then I just sat there.

Alone with my thoughts. Totally engrossed in this divinity of nature; in this connection that I was pulled towards so strongly. Revelling in my glory, but also in sadness. How can moments like these go so unappreciated by some? This Earth. Our home. Its magic. These majestic, strong, jagged peaks that literally thrust their power and beauty into your face.

Perspective. Appreciation. Respect. Gratitude.

And I cried again, out of grief for this world. I was so overcome.

Eventually, I gathered my emotions, and my belongings, and wandered off to explore with my love. To take in the grand scenery that enveloped us. To dwell in what we had accomplished together.

Truly on top of the world, by all definitions ❤

We were speechless.

The views the whole way through this trek were breathtaking; worth the pain and sweat, worth every tear, worth every thought that I had had to combat.

(I have a thing for contrasting textures)

After sending out a little gift of love and thanks, we began our descent. I had no choice but to look down at this point, and something strange was happening. The more I embraced the view, connected with the Earth, trusted my own strength – the more my fear and anxiety began to fade.

This climb was far more psychologically challenging than I could ever have imagined. I wasn’t expecting my anxiety to join me, in all her glory, on this journey; to skip along beside me, chanting taunts into my ear. I was not at all prepared for the physical or emotion breakdown that I would endure. The grip of terror that would wrap itself around my throat, choking me. The breath that would be harder and harder to take, and not just because the air was thinning.

When I made the concrete decision to summit Heart Mountain and face my fear of heights, I had no idea what I had signed myself up for. I’d seen photos of people who had done it, and I’d thought that it looked so easy. So attainable…and attainable it is, but it was not without a price.

When I decided to summit Heart Mountain, spending a solid 1.5 of the almost 3 hours it took fighting back tears wasn’t what I pictured. I had to battle so much of my mind that I questioned each step of the way if this was what I actually wanted to do.

Had I made a good decision?
Was I crazy to think I could do it?
Who the hell decides to do this in their right frame of mind anyway, especially with a paralyzing fear of heights!?!?
Couldn’t I have started with a jungle gym or a ladder?!

In setting this goal, and stopping at nothing to reach it, I learned a few things.

I learned that the only limitations I have I’ve set myself, and they exist only in my mind.

I learned that maybe to conquer our fears (and our minds), we must learn to walk hand in hand with them. We have the power. We always will.

I learned that I can trust myself, because that trust will carry me through.

I learned that I am an extremely emotional being, and to allow myself to live in those moments of emotion is empowering. It’s brave, and bold. It’s human, and it makes me stronger.

I learned that I am so much more capable than I ever would have given myself credit for. That when I think it’s time to quit, I’ve only just begun.

My face might be burned to a crisp (because I always fucking forget sunscreen), and my body might be aching in places I didn’t even know could ache – but my soul is so beyond fed and I am so humbled and changed by this experience. I can’t wait to do it again.

❤

Nineteen

Pre-apologies for the RBF in these photos.
Sorry, not sorry; that’s just my face.

Generally, people do yoga to create “zen”, to relieve stress, to unwind, to just be. That’s definitely why I started my personal yoga journey. Apparently, I actually do yoga to induce creative ideas. No relaxing or unwinding what-so-ever.

In referencing Eat Pray Love once again, my yoga experience in a nut shell:

“Okay. Simply empty your mind. Breathe. … Stop thinking. Why is this so hard?
Screw you Corella, how the hell does she do this?
She looks like friggin’ Mother Teresa.”

(Perhaps it had something to do with my glasses constantly falling off and annoying the absolute crap out of me)

Honestly, sometimes you just get ideas in your head that you have to rush home and try out. Black on black on black – AKA my every day wardrobe.

Not my every day wardrobe? Playing around with my makeup and hairstyles.
This = fun!

Lighting will be the end of me….

Fun fact: My late grandfather served in the RCAF (Royal Canadian Air Force) during the second World War. This ‘vintage’ bag find was a little feather from Heaven.
Now, I feel like I can carry a piece of such an important man everywhere I go.

To lighten things up:

PS: This hella cute jacket – an Ardene steal of a deal.

To end:
Here’s proof that I can smile (and in fact do so a lot IRL)

CHEERS TO THE FREAKIN’ WEEKEND!

❤