This is a small account of my personal journey. I won’t call this an “experience” or a “situation” because I’m not done. I’m still on it but I think I needed to get this out so I can get to the next station, so to speak. It’s a long read, folks.

Depression is a helluva drug. As I type this I’m crying because this is something I’ve suffered with and through for so many years. Depression comes in many ways, shapes and forms. Depression is the prison guard of my life – it tells me when to eat, when to sleep, how to act. It doesn’t care about my well-being and finds its strength in breaking me down to the point where it thinks I’ll give up.

Yet, I’m still here.

Two weekends ago, I reached out to my best friend to help me. I couldn’t stand being in my home. You see, for as long as I’ve lived on my own, I have kept my home in a state of utter shambles. It’s hard to explain this because I’ve never verbalized why though I’ve known the reason for my actions. In keeping a home unfit for guests, it allowed me to keep everyone away from me and I don’t know why this is something I desired. I felt zero guilt about never having people to home because in my mind I knew it was a disaster; saying ‘no’ was incredibly easy. In turn, I used the excuse of being at home to deny myself social interaction with these same people. “Once I’m in, I’m in,” I’ll always say.  Sometimes I led them to answer their own question and nodded in agreement, “…you live so far, I totally understand not wanting to come back out.”  I’d nod and smile my smile. The few times I’ve had friends over, I prayed my closets, under my bed and every cupboard I own would not burst at the seams during their time with me.

The Arianne you know, the Arianne I show, the Arianne you read and the Arianne you see – illusions. The best “razzle-dazzle” show money can buy. It’s an act, folks. A perfectly, honed skillful act. I’m someone quick-witted and self-deprecating and independent and fashion forward with a “who the hell cares” attitude that I wish were true with all my might.

It’s not.

The second I cross the threshold of my home, I lock the door, I slide the chain on. I dump my jacket, my bag and anything else I have on me to the floor and I retire to my bedroom. My bedroom as of two weeks was covered in clothes and tissues and shopping bags and errant shoes and broken purses and magazines I’ve never read and buttons in baggies that came on the shirts with the tags still attached. I had a quarter of my mattress that fit my body perfectly and that’s where I’d lay. That’s where you “like” or RT my funny words. That’s where I live-tweet all my favourite shows. That’s where I ate. That’s where I didn’t sleep. That’s where I cry.

We spent about 14 hours getting rid of everything our hands could touch. This was not my battle with being a hoarder, I could care less about the things going into garbage bags (except for that apple-scented body spray I JUST bought, that I wanted). We probably filled around 11 XL garbage bags of stuff. Just f*cking stuff. This is why my mind isn’t clear at night. This is why I feel completely trapped in the one place I should feel the most comfortable, the most free. That day was eye-opening. That’s the day I told myself that whatever I’ve done and am currently doing is not working. I said it out loud and surprisingly, believed myself. It’s not working at all!

My parents believe I’m okay on the surface. I suspect they know I’m not but they know me better than anyone else. They know how I’ll get if they pressure me. When I’m at my lowest points my father, with his dyam sixth sense, ALWAYS calls me. I’m the baby of the family but I feel like the eldest more often than not. I speak with conviction and common sense. I have street smarts. I know right from wrong. I’ve been on my own for years without ever having to move back home. And as long as I’ve been away from home, I can count on my fingers and toes how many times I’ve allowed my parents into my space. After awhile, they stopped trying and who wouldn’t? I’m living this busy life, right? I’m single and in my twenties/thirties, right? I don’t need my parents, right? I take care of myself, I’m assertive,  I’m an adult…I’m Arianne.

Guys, I’m so tired. I’m physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted of that Arianne. Here’s the reason I don’t sleep. Here’s the reason I cry.

I do not like myself.

Now you can tell me I’m pretty. You can say I’m smart. You can list all the things I’ve done, where I’ve succeeded, whose life has been enhanced just by me being there and it’s a moot. You can read me the words I just typed in the paragraph before this describing all my great independent traits. I don’t think they’re all that great. If I don’t believe it, then why bother is my mentality. This is my logically illogical mind at its finest. Like Brad Pitt, I can see why people find him attractive but I am not attracted to him. So I can see what y’all are saying but I don’t believe in it pertaining to me. ‘Faking it until I make it’ is a lifestyle I thought would be best for me but it’s simply making me more sour.

Like I said before, I’m tired.

This attitude is affecting all aspects of my life. I have a nephew whom I would give up my life for in a heartbeat who I don’t see. That’s completely on me. He’s a major part of why I need to beat this. My parents… God, my parents! I never realized how much I absolutely love these two humans. A heart-bursting, overwhelming love for these two people…and I never see them, I never call them. Why? Because they’ll ask me how I am and then I’ll lie. They believe that lie and I bite my lip because I’m supposed to be the one that’s OK. That’s why. I can’t be the burden.

Everything’s coming to a head now: I’m unapologetically rude in a way that makes me angry at myself to people who do not deserve it. Hearing my own negativity annoys me, yet I can’t stop my mouth from spewing the garbage. I am not someone I’d like to be friends and I think that speaks volumes. Therapists be damned (been there, done that, have every single t-shirt ever manufactured). Doing the same thing repeatedly expecting a different result is pretty much the meaning of “insanity,” right? It has its benefits, but I need to find a new approach. The first step was simplifying my living space – making my “safe” zone a welcoming place, eliminating additional anxiety.

I’m happy to say my place is immaculate right now. For the last week and a bit, my body tensed when I turned the key at my front door expecting it to magically look the way it did before. But it doesn’t! I’ve dropped that baggage off at the front door, instead of all my belongings. I sit on my couch, I have a glass of wine, I look around and love where I am. This is the way it’s supposed to be.

Baby steps.

I know my end goal: happiness. How to get there is going to be an adventure I can no longer avoid. I’m not on my way back to good, because I’ve never been to good. I’ve been living my fake, after-school special version of good but I’ve never legitimately been good in my adult years. I’ve been living in such a terrible way in hopes to keep everyone away, so how were they to know about my mess of a life? They weren’t. That was my master plan. And it worked perfectly. I have to care about me now. I need to break through my social anxieties and fear of letting people in. All jokes come from a grain of truth and my self-deprecating ways are only hurting me the longer I feed the beast.

There you have it. Arianne. THIS (everything above) is me. The real me. A ‘me’ I’m determined to transition out of. There are things I want in life. I want a better relationship with my family, I want to do the things regular friends do, I want to have a sense of community, I want to like where I live (home and city). I want romantic love to find me and stick around and I want to believe, without a shadow of a doubt, that I’m someone who is worthy of everything I just described.  I will no longer say I’m worthless. I will no longer cringe (visibly) or put-down compliments given to me. I will no longer allow the toxicity of my own thoughts to infect my relationships with my loved ones.

My grandfather recently passed and in the last 10 years or so, he began calling me “Hollywood.” Every time I saw him, I’d be in my favourite hat or dressed the way I dressed and he explained I looked like “those girls” he saw on TV.  And not in a bad way. It didn’t even register until after his death what he truly meant by that. He saw me as this person whose name belonged in lights. He saw me as this shining beacon of success. My grandfather could see I’m destined for something greater. He saw the person I’m supposed to be not the scared, angry and worthless girl I feel I am. His thoughts are another huge motivational factor.

I found this really great book helping me to sort out myself and my feelings. It’s allowed me to face the stories I regurgitate which simply perpetuate my miserable state of being. There are TOO many people out there who I’ve intentionally and unintentionally hurt or turned away because I simply couldn’t deal with my isht.  So please take this as my apology to my mom, dad, brother, cousins, friends (old and new), co-workers, etc.: I’m deeply sorry. More sorry than I could put into words or express in my lifetime for making you feel bad. For cancelling plans without an iota of guilt. For having a chip on my shoulder and taking it out on you. For not spending the time with you that I should. For anything, big or small, where I made you feel as though you do not matter. You matter.

Maya Angelou says that courage is one of the most important qualities to develop as a woman and to not just jump into it with huge declarations. If I fail, I will not get discouraged and I’ll try something else. And if that fails, I’ll dust myself off and begin again. If anyone else I cared about were in this position, I would tell them they deserve nothing but the best. I’m nowhere near loving myself, but I’m working on finding the things I like about myself and that’s a huge step in the right direction.

To be continued…

Like brown paper packages wrapped up in string, you need to know some of my favourite things.

BIGGITY-BAM!

Gary Gulman

This, my lovelies, is Gary Gulman. (I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!!!!) Here are some facts: Gary Gulman is a man. Gary Gulman is a comedian. Gary Gulman is 6’6″. Gary Gulman used to teach kids. Gary Gulman is Jewish. *single blink* It’s biologically impossible but I’m mostly sure Gary Gulman manifested from my wishes, prayers and dreams of my childhood. What isn’t a dream is the day Gary Gulman followed me on Twitter, affording me the opportunity to ask if he’d participate in a Single Blink Q&A.  So that’s happening right now (p.s. you’re welcome!)

What you need to know: Everything bolded are my questions, everything italicized are Gary Gulman’s responses, (everything bolded in parentheses is my running commentary after his answers register in my brain) and I apparently like using the word “fondness.”

HERE! WE! GO!

SINGLE BLINK’S Q&A WITH GARY GULMAN

GUESS WHAT, GUYS?!!?!!!

I’m turning into the biggest, sketchiest, pervy creep of Creepville! There is not a man whose path I cross where I am not literally licking my chops to figure out which sport he plays, which area of town he’s from, what size pants he’s wearing, how well we’d match horizontally!

Take last night for instance: sitting on the train going home, perpendicular to a gentleman. Now, if I could just say this was a “good-looking gentleman,” there would be no issue. But no, lemme break it on down to Hunkytown.

HIM:

White & dark purple checkered collared shirt, rolled up just enough to look chill but not enough to look “done.”

Charcoal-coloured jeans, not skinny but definitely hung of all the right spots.

His sneakers were the same colour as his jeans with white soles. Laces. Non-brand name.

His eyelashes would probably allow him to take flight if he blinked too quickly.

His hair? Run-your-hands-through-it perfection. I’m sure he somehow imports Timotei.

I feel like I’m in a ‘Man Matrix,’ seeing ALL these hotties in binary code.

*single blink* Good God, it must be Spring because the fevaaaaah is here.

If I had more time in my life, I would keep you guys posted on so much more.  This is just a life recap to catch you up on what’s coming next for Single Blink and  what I’ve been going through. Trust me, I’ve been going through some thangs!

I am not Oprah but I have so many favourite things and I decided I’m just going to sprinkle your lives with them over the course of the summer. I have a bunch of Q&As with the boys who make my world go ’round – I really hope you enjoy them.

What else can I tell ya?  Oh yeah, I recently realized I’m in love. It’s not a love I’ll pursue because I’m too tired but hey, seems like my heart still works. These are positive steps!

Other things: I won one year of free brunch at SCHOOL in Liberty Village (Toronto) and it was simply too miserable outside when I wanted to hibernate all winter. I believe I’m going to dust off the ol’ brunch card and head there this weekend to gorge.

Funny story about crushes gone wrong: I have an admirer. He’s made himself known to his co-workers who have told me several times of his interest. This guy even sent a co-worker in with a saved photo on a phone to remind me of who he was and ask for my number. I politely declined. Well……what a mistake that was! Let’s just say it’s been an interesting few weeks of this admirer periodically stopping by my office but never admitting to what he’s asking his co-workers to do. He found me on Facebook, but not to add me, just to send me a digital ‘poke.’  Oh yeah, and there was this time, back at my office, when he told his co-worker to remind me that he looks like Puff Daddy.

First of all, he does not. Second of all, WHY would you think this would further entice me?  Does he think I was sitting here waiting for that one thing, that one integral nugget of information, that would make me break down and melt?  If so, telling someone you resemble P. Diddy is the road less travelled for a dyam reason. In the latest chapter of this thrilling saga, he has enlisted another co-worker to dig up some intel on me.  It was very important for him to know if I enjoyed lychee-based/flavoured beverages. *single blink* 

For some reason, this level of effort leaves me feeling very cold and weary. Maybe I can’t be pleased ever in life. Maybe I should just paint Homer Simpson’s face on my body pillow and call it a life. So with THAT, I leave you with a dear friend’s handiwork; a collage of sorts to help you visualize this entire hilarious nightmare. Today I present to you:

P. LYCHEE

Stay tuned for what happens next because this admirer is not done by a long shot!

Jason Collins is gay. This was the big announcement of Monday, April 29, 2013. This was a landmark moment in the world of men’s professional sports. And while I do not want to diminish the significance of what he did (because it’s a big, f*ckin’ deal), it is still a big, F*CKIN’ deal. In 2013. On Earth. Does this not seem preposterous to anyone other than me? Just by statistics alone, there are SO many gay athletes playing sports right now and he’s the only one in one of the major four male professional leagues where this is known??? *single blink* Come on, world. We need to do better than this.  This vicious cycle won’t end because not everyone will be accepting of Jason Collins. HE hasn’t changed but someone else’s perception of him changed. That changed perception causes fear. That fear becomes a festering petri dish of hate…and that hate will amount to unnecessary bullying and violence, somewhere. We know this. We’re not new to this. People were frothing at the mouth to see the first homophobic response to this news so we could attack/agree with whomever said it. It’s sickening. Humans make me ill.

I felt this version of the song was an easy-to-follow metaphor of what I expect are the different emotional stages of coming out (and if not, it’s the stages I go through when someone is described as “brave” for just being honest about who they are):

When you come out = ”If You’re Happy And You Know It…”

When you get hit upside the head with public reaction = ”If You’re Sad And You Know It…”

When idiots try to dictate your life = ”If You’re Mad And You Know It…” (cut short obviously, because who really has the time)

When you’ve had enough = ”If You’re Sleepy And You Know It…”

When you wake up the next day and the day after that and the diggy-dog day after that = you’re right back to “If You’re Happy And You Know It…” because you can’t with these basic bitches. So now is your time to own it.

As humans we are forced to live alongside each other whether we want to or not.  Those unable to handle it end up doing unspeakable things to the people around them.  Right now your own beliefs do not matter to me so stop reading or unfollow/unfriend/un-like or whatever because I will cut ANYONE who expresses anything negative to me about this subject.  So the question of questions is:

WHAT IS ACTUALLY YOUR PROBLEM WITH PEOPLE BEING GAY?

Is it because it makes you uncomfortable? So does a wedgie yet you cope.

Is it unnatural? Who cares – it doesn’t concern you.

Are you under the impression that all gays carry AIDS or HIV? Well, you’re just stupid and I’ll thin you from this herd of people I associate with.

Is it against your religion, is it some form of sin? Everyone sins, including you and yet you’re still able to live your life by asking forgiveness. Why don’t we let the big guy upstairs make the decision on who didn’t live the life He apparently set out for them. I mean, if that’s what the argument really is, then judge not lest ye be judged, bitch.

Are you afraid of the gays and their advances? THEY DON’T WANT YOU!!! (You should be so lucky.)

Do you think accepting gay people in your life will, in fact, turn you into a gay? Well, m’dears, it’s in you to give. If you’re gay, you’re gay. If you’re not, you’re not.  If you’re idiot drunk girls trying to get attention from a group of oil workers at your local top 40-playing club, well then, you’re just messing up your own lipstick with one another for no goddamn reason.

Are you fighting your own homosexual desires and you know the gays have a special power that illuminates a rainbow across your forehead for the world to see as they spit COTDAMN GLITTER WHILE RIDING A STAMPEDE OF OF BEDAZZLED UNICORNS ACROSS YOUR FARCE OF A LIFE?????!?!?!?!?!! IS THAT THE PROBLEM? DID I GET TO THE BOTTOM OF YOUR TRUE FEARS?

Tha f*ck outta here.

Give me any question and I’ll Dikembe Mutombo it back in your face so hard it will reverse the earth’s gravitational pull.  If. you. cannot. live. your. damn. life. due to the race, gender, cultural background, sexual orientation, etc. of someone then be in your sad, little worlds because that’s how I view what you’ve chosen to spend energy on.

Just let me say my piece and hopefully free my mind of the attack it’s having on itself.

Gay people are just people. Gay/Same-sex marriage is just marriage. Boyfriends having boyfriends/Girlfriends having girlfriends is simply known as a relationship. People having to explain this to other people BLOWS MY MIND OUT OF MY EARHOLES.

All I know is I’m standing on the highest soapbox in the universe because I look down on you with a shameful, slow-shaking head of disgust. I pity you and would never wish your brain and ugly, hateful thoughts on my worst enemy. I am happier than you and I always will be because there’s no one in this world I’m preventing myself from being friends with or learning from or loving due to a small mind and sheltered world view.

I am a single, straight, black Canadian woman with abysmal gas and razor sharp wit. I have a love of porn and Richie Havens music and not necessarily at the same time……..but maybe!!! I have a killer smile even though my teeth are jacked and I watch more cartoons than all the children of the world combined. These things, plus so much more, make me who I am. But do any of these things make you less of who you are? Is your straightness ending wars? Is your security in your heterosexuality feeding the hungry? How are you better or more worthy of the most basic human rights? You’re not.

So the next time someone says, “By the way, I’m gay,” your only response should be a single blink followed by, “Actually, you’re Stanley. We just met, like…two minutes ago – do you like sushi ‘cuz I’m starving?”

Are my instructions clear? Now, go get a life and get the direct f*ck out of everyone else’s.

Now that I’m an Essential Woman, I think we need to have some grown-up conversations. I began this blog as my own outlet to vent about my frustration with dating/men/sex/etc. and while this remains true, I was overwhelmed with how many of you related so let’s have some ACTUAL talks.

Comment!

Email me!

Anything!

I feel like I’m riding solo when I know you’re out there. I want to hear (and share if you’re about it) your experiences too.  In saying that, let’s get down to the tippy-top of all Ts*:

When was the last time you came across a legit tenderoni IRL? *single blink*

Where are the tenderonis?

Right?!?!!  I saw one in my office last week and my period started immediately. The sight of this ‘roni LITERALLY burst my ovaries!  This is not good, Toronto. So this is my PSA to my city (and the cities you’re in if you’re realizing this is a real problem):

The summer is coming, I’m daily turning into the finest wine and I’m not seeing ‘ronis on a regular basis. I’m not about that life. At all. You’ve been warned.

*”the T” means “the Truth” 

Saidah, Sook-Yin, Patti, Maya………..me??!?!?!!?  *single blink* If you didn’t know it then well, you better know it now…I am an Essential Woman.

The Essential Women’s Guide: 53 – Arianne from The Essential Women’s Guide on Vimeo.

Photo: Simone Maurice, Crew neck: North Star, Featherbone Earring: Gardé Del Avante, Straight-laced collar necklace: Bizou, Essentials: Arianne Young

In other news: I still can’t watch myself on a screen and I did babble and don’t feel I answered the question;  BUT I did listen to it and I didn’t turn into dust! Be gentle, guys. I’m essential but still still a fresh(wo)man at this.

I was so honoured when Simone approached me to a part of this growing library of positive, strong women. I know so many women who inspire me daily so I think you should do this too. It’s super fun – you choose one card from a full deck and simply answer the question: “If I could give women one piece of advice on <insert topic on card>, it would be…” and speak from your heart. Contact Simone on Twitter at @TEWG_Vlog so I can share your words too!

Dr. Maya Angelou on “Life” (drink this in/eat this up. It’s all nourishment for your soul):

“…because you know that you’re somebody.”
~Dr. Maya Angelou

Once you’ve listened to this, press play again and again and again. I’ve probably listened to this clip about 45 times and I keep discovering something else inherently helpful for my own life. This woman IS the absolute truth.

Maya Everlasting.

Patti Smith on “Relationships:”

Sense of humour, folks! I’ve been saying this forever and I truly agree.

Sidenote: this ENTITY known as Patti Smith has influenced my style choices before I even knew what style was. Always been in awe of her look because it’s not typical, she’s not uber-femme and you can’t put anything about her in a tiny box.

Liiiiiiike, let’s talk about this. Sex appeal for days with zero effort.

Just chillin’ and here for it in lotus stance. I LOVE THIS WOMAN.

Do you have any favourite videos from The Essential Women’s Guide site? I want to know which ones!!!