Take your broken heart and turn it into art.

That's a Meryl Streep quote, maybe one of the best actresses who has ever perfected her craft.

I've been living in a strange dream lately. For the better part of the last three years, doctors had me convinced I was dying. I'm totally not. My psychic pretty much said I'm living forever and Jay was just like, yah I knew that. The thing about being sick is if you believe it, you are. It's when you stop believing that everything becomes okay. I know some people don't have that option, but for me I think I was dying from a broken heart and bad choices I made because of that. So I had the power to make that go away. It's like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz she always had the power she just need to learn it for herself.

I was walking to work the other day and the Jdubs had one of their stupid book booths up near my store. I usually ignore them but I had to stop. The effing Watchtower is like 4 pages now. I picked one up because I couldn't believe it. So of course they start talking to me. I put it back and said "You guys really cheaped out on the Watchtower". Before they could respond I said, I'm an apostate so you really shouldn't talk to me but I hope you have a nice day.

Then I went to work and didn't even think about them. It's not love, it's not hate. It's just indifference. That's when I knew I was over it. It took me ten years but I'm a Pisces. I had to be sad, I had to be angry. I couldn't forgive myself so I hurt myself.

I'm lucky. I have amazing people who never gave up on me. I had one day off this week and I spent it with great friends and my dog. I get to come home every night to the best guy I've ever met. I want everyone who struggles to know it does get better.

So we're lying on a blanket in the park and Max is wandering around meeting everyone and we're brainstorming ideas for my book title. We all know there's a lot of dark. Thus, the blackbirds. I tell my friend "Blackbird" is already taken. He's like, okay let's find something else. I said I had a friend who was a poet and he wrote me this beautiful poem about how the blackbird turns into a white dove. I want the book to be real, sad, happy, funny, horrific at times. Just real. I said, what about "Blackbird, White Love". Cause despite all my flaws y'all know I'm all love motherfuckers.

He was like it's perfect. And it's not everyday you get perfect, but when it happens it's awesome.

DON'T STEAL MY BOOK TITLE.

Sullivan out.

The Truth About Love

Funny how the heart can be deceiving, more than just a couple times. Why do we fall in love so easy even when it's not right? Where there is desire there's going to be a flame, where's there a flame someones gotta get burned. But just because it burns it doesn't mean you're gonna die. Gotta get up and try. -P!NK

It seems romantic relationships in the second half of your 30s are more complicated than they was before. Everyone has either been heartbroken, divorced, left for someone else, cheated on. Or all of the above. Sometimes I'll spend half a Saturday talking to my girlfriends, listening, reading tarot cards. Gawd, if I were a licensed therapist/psychic I could make so much money on the weekends.

Our hearts do deceive us. It's a famous quote: The heart wants what the heart wants. Often, we don't get what we desire so badly because what we want would be very very bad for us. Our friend the Universe has another plan.

We were home listening to Pink the other night, I'd been at her concert on Monday with my bestie. My guy dropped a ton a cash to make those great seats happen. (She was AMAZING) Not that he's rich. He's just very generous. This song comes on. He looks at me and says "This is your song". I'm like, how do you think I'm still here baby?

C'mon we're too old to keep playing games. To keep taking advantage of people. And my friends? They are worth so much more than what they put up with. Wondering where he is, what's he doing, who else is he talking to? Whose blonde hair was that in the bathroom?

I've been the perfect Stepford Wife in the past. Until I wasn't. "Just getting by" isn't a great option for any of us. Neither is crazy, mad love for most of us. Love isn't like it is in the movies. We have to try. If they won't try with you, if you're constantly insecure and unhappy, please - that train is going through a tunnel. That tunnel ends with going off a cliff. Save yourself.

Not saying I learned this all in one go but we're getting older, lovelies. My relationship isn't perfect. I had a different picture in my head of how I'd end up but it wasn't right for me.

The other night we took the dog to the beach and we were playing and laughing, decided to grab a bite on the waterfront and one of my guy's friends works there now. His old roomate. They were fun times, but crazy. Times that couldn't last. They were so happy to see each other again. Finally I interrupted and was like: Hi, it's Margaux, I used to stay at your place?...and he said my God, I didn't even recognize you. Your hairs so long and you're wearing sunglasses...and I said and...you never thought we'd still be together after all this time? And he laughed. Said: Not a chance.

Ladies, you owe me thousands of dollars in free therapy. All I have to say is pick the nice guy for once and you won't have to try half as hard, I promise. You'll still have to work for it, but you'll have a partner who makes you smile every time he walks through the door and when things get hard, you'll try to make them easier. Together. He always tells me he's so proud of me. That "WE" got this. We got this. :)

Sullivan out.

About a Boy

How long have I known Jay? Who knows at this point. Five, six years? Maybe seven. My new life hasn't been longer than nine so he's been around for a lot of it. We're friends, we date, we break up, we're friends again. The only thing I know for sure is we never leave whatever this is.

As y'all know I haven't had the easiest time adapting to life on the outside. Jay is the one person who always saw through whatever I was going through and could see the real me. Not that he ever knew me in my past life, he got the other version of Margaux. But to him, that version was still smart, funny, beautiful and worth loving. He didn't take my crap though. That's why we kept breaking up. He's not like me. He doesn't have some profound need to be liked that makes him put up with bad behaviour from other people. He sticks up for himself. He sticks up for me.

I'm learning slowly that the only way to love someone else is to love yourself first. I've had a lot of boyfriends. And I don't think I ever realized that I deserved to be treated well. That I shouldn't put up with being male dominated, put down or lied to or cheated on. None of us do.

So at times, I've been a very bad girlfriend to him. We were younger then. We partied too much. Didn't sleep enough. Fought too much. But there were good times. He forced me to love Game of Thrones and implemented "no pants Sundays". He could iron chef something awesome from nothing in the cupboard.

Then we started to grow up and things started getting real. My cat died and I had a puppy dumped on me. I got sick for quite some time. I went home indefinitely. Jay would send me care packages with new clothes. He'd visit me every day I was in the hospital. Text me in the morning and ask what I wanted to eat because I'm picky and he knew I wouldn't eat hospital food. When one of my best friends was dying he'd drive me to the hospital and wait outside.

He supports all my stupid ideas like coming home randomly with new animals and doing an MBA while I work. Anytime he's off work and it's a nice day he takes us to the beach because that's my favorite place. He's been there for my siblings and my girlfriends and makes sure my dog is taken care of. (Max loves him to death but he's still mommy's boy.)

I guess all I really want to say is, we don't always understand where big love comes from. I worked on Bay Street for years. All those flashy guys in suits with their expensive cufflinks and even more expensive cars. The guys you'd meet in the cool bars who all had their wedding rings in their pockets so they could pick up girls.

Real love is every. fucking. day. Good times and bad. Pretty or ugly. Money in the pocket or broke as hell. Nice vacations and then the years you can't afford to take a vacation. Shopping at your favorite store one day, dollarama the next. Sacrificing for the family. Before him, I didn't know what it was like to have someone accept you unconditionally. Flaws, imperfections, bad habits. All the things you try to hide. Guess I'm just really lucky I got so many chances to get this right. :)

Sullivan out.

Murmurations

I know what you're thinking and you're right. I never write anymore.

I'm sure all artists, whether you're a musician or a painter or a writer understand that voice in your head that won't leave you alone or go away until you do what it tells you to. Mine has been a lot of different personalities over the past eight years. Sometimes it's angry. Sometimes it just wants to be an advocate for people who have had their rights stolen. Sometimes, it has fallen in love with the worst possible choice in men ever. Not that most of them weren't decent guys, they were. Just the wrong choices. Then it just went silent. It woke up this morning, maybe because I felt so happy last night.

I could write a whole book on all the bad choices I've made in life. But I went home last weekend. My cousin was getting married and that was beautiful. I haven't had the easiest time with family. But he said something to me about how when someone is going through a hard time, family is always there for you. He wasn't talking about me, he wanted me to pass it on to my brother, but it resonated.

And family isn't just blood. I spent an evening with the girl I was best friends with when I was five years old. We both went though hell and got out of the JWs but we laughed about it all night. And then I came home. Here is as much home as home is. The only reason I had the opportunity to go to PEI was because I have such good friends in Toronto. People I can count on come what may. Y'all know I had a shit year. But it has been a year and it's always a new beginning come fall. :)

One of my best friends and I are going to a witches circle in a couple of weeks. It's so fun not to have rules anymore. I'll probably write a blog about that. She's blogging now too so maybe we can collaborate. It has been a long road. My other cousin told me once maybe I should wait to write a book until I know how it ends. This is how it ends. Happy. Not perfect. Surrounded by love.

I saw a reiki master awhile ago and I didn't tell her anything. I never do. Psychics, reiki, witches, if they are real they'll know about me without me giving them any information. She said my problem was that I had no idea how loved I was. Because honestly, that's what cults do to you. Make you feel guilty and wrong and unloved if you leave. She said she saw a flock of blackbirds flying in formation around me. I was a smartass and said that's called a murmuration. (Thank you to my lovely mentor GBW for teaching me that.) But how did she know I had blackbirds tattooed on my body and everywhere in my apartment and I never would be here today without my flock.

Y'all know who you are. Thank you for making me a better person, for putting up with me through this journey, for loving me in my perfectly imperfect state, for making me happy every day. For being the best family/"family" a girl could ask for.

Sullivan out.

Life is not forever. Love is.

I stole that quote from my friend. They wrote it on her grave.

I'm finally going back to work on Monday. I love to make lists. So I had a lot of things to cross off before I went back. I'd never been to see Donia since she died. I couldn't do it. It just makes the whole thing more real. I've never deleted her number from my phone. But for all my avoiding it, I knew it was something I had to do.

My best friend took me this week. (For the rest of you, who think you're my best friend, I'm sorry. Jay is.) He keeps promising me he'll never die and since he's Asian, he might be right. But I don't trust it. There were a lot of Asians in that cemetery.

If you go to Mount Pleasant Cemetery, (sidepoint the only cemetery I would agree to be buried in if I didn't have an elaborate plan to be buried at sea), it's complicated. They give you a map that makes no sense and you just have to search and search until you find what you're looking for.

I found her. I cried. I brought flowers, but that seemed kind of silly in the moment. In some ways, it makes me happy that I just want to get thrown into the sea when I go so no one will ever have to bring flowers to my grave and cry. On the other hand, say there was someone who wanted to come see me and talk to me. There would be nowhere for them to go.

I got to do that. To talk to her, to tell her I missed her. To cry. She was generous, even when she left us. She was the best person I've ever known. Jay walked Max around the grounds and came back to get me.

Life is short. One of my special friends is grieving the loss of someone that was important to her. I don't have any advice. I can't do anything but listen. I can tell you this: these silly wars we have, the walls we build and the fences we put up, they don't help us, they just hurt us.

Lindsay, put down the guns. It's not worth the lost time.

Dalyse, no one will ever replace John. If something were to happen to Jay, you'd have to come over and scrape me off the floor. I wouldn't want to live in a world without him. So I know how you feel. I didn't want to live in a world without Donia either. But unlike the fairytale I actually believed in for most of my life, we don't live forever. But love does. Donia was right about that. You can be gone, but the love lives on.

Sullivan out.

How it Ends

Tell me when it kicks in. 

One of my very dear friends lost her best friend last week. I keep thinking we're too young to be losing friends, but apparently that's not the case. Reality kicks in slowly, as the days go by.

I lost one of the best friends I ever had a couple of years ago, way too soon. It's still hard for me, when I want to call her up and tell her something, and then I remember I just can't anymore. Hasn't stopped me from not even deleting her phone number. I keep thinking one of these days, she'll just be back. Maybe that's why I haven't visited her grave yet.

John Bautista was a good guy. He made you feel important, even if he barely knew you. Generous to a fault. He was always around to give you a ride somewhere you needed to go or grab you some un-obtainable concert tickets. That's how Dalyse and I saw Stevie Wonder. And Blue Rodeo. He was gonna get us Ed Sheeran tickets but unfortunately we lost him first. The concert doesn't even seem to matter anymore.

To my friend, he was the best friend. We used to laugh about how we both had a Filipino "husband". Someone who was always there for us. Who supported us. Who loved us no matter what. And they do that despite the fact that romantically, it was never really an option.

We actually talked about all going to the Philippines together next year. They both had a lot of connections there. A week later, that option was off the table because he was gone.

As much as I try to be there for her, I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone so important to you. Growing up for her and I, has been, in our own ways, difficult. I don't think either of us have ever had someone who just loved us so unconditionally and was there, any time of day, night or anywhere in between. Always a phone call away. Always ready with a hug when we need it. Always had our backs.

She's handling it much better than I would. If something happened to Jay...I can't even imagine the pain. I choose to believe he will outlive me and I will never have to deal with that. Dalyse didn't get that chance.

In John's memory, we will cherish our lives. Live it to the fullest. And sleep when we die. :)

Rest in peace, our friend. And Dalyse, I'm here for you. Always. It's not going to go away. There's no replacing him. But it gets better. Not good, but better.

Love, me

Sullivan out.

Why is a Raven like a Writing Desk?

I've had that quote from Alice in Wonderland stuck in my head all week. Ever since Jay decided I needed a writing desk. Apparently the reason I'm stuck somewhere between writers block and hating the whole half book I've written so far is because I didn't have a proper desk.

I'm not a raven, I'm a blackbird, but close enough. As usual, Jay solved that problem.

You know what the challenge is with writing a book? On a blog, it's real time. However I feel today, that's what I can write about. Short and sweet. Get it out of my head and move on.

A book is complicated. If I go back to the beginning. I guess I could start somewhere in the middle, but nothing would make any sense.

I thought I was living a dual life and I honestly didn't know which side was the real me. Was I a saint or a sinner? I've been both. I've been loyal and I've betrayed. I can turn on a country song and feel an ache in my heart for home. I'm also a certified city girl. I love my hippie dresses and my Kate Spade purses equally.

The people I love now, they're just as imperfect as I am. I don't care anymore about religious sides in this silly war. I don't care if you're happily married or happily living in sin. Straight or gay or undecided. All I care is that you're happy. After a lifetime of judging people and trying to convert them, finding this truth makes me very, very happy.

That's why I still think I should tell my story. So people know there's an afterlife in this life. There's a happy way out, even if you have to go through hell to get there. I won't lie. It is HELL. But it's worth it. The JWs are wrong. Paradise is the here and now. It's messy and not all that easy sometimes, but it's better than spending a whole life believing in fairy tales. We make our happiness in this life.

So I promise to put this desk to good use. It actually makes me feel inspired. I'll dust off the book and see what happens.

And if you're going to go to bed wondering why the raven is like a writing desk? Google it. While you listen to some country music. There's room in us for all the different parts that make us up. That makes us something beautiful.

Sullivan out.

Fascinating & Heartbreaking

Liz: Have you watched Leah Remini's show on Scientology? Fascinating and heartbreaking.

Me: That's my life in a nutshell. I don't need to watch the show, I've lived it.

Not that I was a Scientologist. That would be just a tad more embarrassing that being a Jehovah's Witness. Again, I'm gonna go with, not my fault, I was raised that way.

You know what the funny thing is? I'm so happy. Did my life go to shit leaving them? Yes. You probably don't know what it's like though, waking up in the morning and finally being able to make your own decisions. If I want to wear a short skirt, I can. If I want to say "fuck", that's fine. No one gets to dictate what I wear, how I talk, who I can or cannot be friends with. I'm free.

At the end of the day, our lives are short and living free was the only option for me. Were things better when I naively believed we would all live forever in paradise? Yes and No. I was like a 32 year old kid who still believed in Santa.

My therapist thinks I'm fascinating. I'm sure he's writing a book about me. That's the only possible explanation why he waives his $200 an hour fee to just talk to me every time I run out of money. Or maybe, he's just a good guy who wants to help. Like so many of the "dangerous", "bad", "worldly" people I've met on the outside.

It's a New Year. Life honestly, is beautiful, despite the bumps. I've had a bumpy few days into January but I'm sure it's all onward and upward from here. And when the day gets too long, despite my hundreds of failed relationships, I can just come home to this guy, who loves me no matter what. He has to. I feed him! :)

Sullivan out.

Night Terrors

Sometimes I'm happy I'm getting sort of old. Not that I have it all figured out. I spent the weekend with my most precious girlfriend. She seems to have it all figured out. Handsome, kind, wonderful husband? Check. Lovely home? Check. Pursuing her passion in life? Check.

We were both raised in and then left the JWs. She did more of a swan dive while I was a belly flop. But we had very different experiences. I was older, I had to get divorced. I did the back and forth with them for a lot longer. We've always had each other though since I got out and for our entire lives before that except for a couple of brief hiccups.

I'm still trying to rid myself of the little hell I live in, despite the fact that I think my life is great. I'm happy every day. And grateful. My subconscious and my nightmares won't catch up though.

I'm off work and I was cleaning my flat and I realized I'm a hoarder. I have every letter, every card, every picture I've ever received. I've thrown out 7 bags of garbage today. Some of them, even though I don't talk to those people, even though I don't see them, I still can't get rid of them. Every year more and more go away but it's possible when I die, someone is going to have to throw out a box of letters from someone I used to know.

Maybe that's why I still dream about them. Maybe that's why apparently I have bad karma. Maybe my heart is just too big for this and I was in it too long. Lately, my heart is expanding and letting new people in. I hope they will take over those old vacant spots.

Someone come and save my life :) Sorry it's all City and Colour songs tonight. :) 

"There's a degree of difficulty in dealing with me. From my haunted past comes the daunting task of living with memories." ~ City and Colour

Sullivan out.

The Dance

We were young, we were reckless, we'll take this way too far. It will leave you breathless or with a nasty scar. - TS

Y'all know that I would write something today. 

I can't go through August 9th without pulling out the wedding album and having a cry. He's moved on. He's having a baby this month. 

He was the best friend I've ever had. None of my family really ever approved. Just before we walked down the aisle my dad said: "We don't have to do this, we have a car. We can just leave." But I was walking down that aisle and marrying the man I loved. 

Sex and the city says it takes half the time you were with someone to get over them. I'm almost there. In the meantime, I wish nothing but happiness for him. I hope his baby girl is healthy and happy. I wish things had turned out differently and she would be mine. 

We never had a song. After we broke up we found it. 

"I'm glad I didn't know
The way it would all would end, the way it all would go. 
Our lives are better left to chance. 
I would have missed the pain, but I would have missed the dance."

Sullivan out. 

I was wrong

Dear readers, 

If you read my last blog, please read this. 

It's been brought to my attention that Rod Stewart did NOT write The First Cut is the Deepest. It was Cat Stevens. Also, if you click the link (just FYI the orange writing is all links) and watch the video you'll see that he was a total babe. 

I'm sorry for emotionally scarring my very good friend Cameron and anyone else out there by getting that wrong. (Jesus, everyone is a critic!) It's just that I'm too young to know that, being 27 and all. 

Also apparently I've never talked about Cam on the blog and that is just adding insult to injury on this whole Rod Stewart/Cat Stevens issue.

Y'all know that I feel so very lucky to have met such wonderful people out here in the real world. The latest additions to my social circle are not only fabulous but they also live within a block or two of me (Cam lives across the street, I can look out my window and into his) which is very key because I don't like to leave my neighbourhood. 

One night at the bar downstairs he decided to friend-pick-me-up. I was walking past him and Robin and he asked me to weigh in on some boy issue she was talking about. He told me later that he just decided we had to be friends and now we are. :)

We're like secret superheroes though because we all have code names. Cam is Cameron the too beautiful, then there's Robin on the fly, then there's me, Margaux Blackbird. I haven't been friends with these two misfits for long, but I absolutely could not imagine my life without them. Cam comes to charity events with me, took me to the hospital when I was sick (and stole my KPMG hat by the way), Robin baked me cookies and loaned me her dog for company when I off work. Cam took me out kayaking on my wedding anniversary this year and didn't even complain that I could come not even close to keeping up with him. 

This is the night Robin accidentally stole my purse with my keys, wallet and phone in it and Spencer had to go running around trying to find her so I wouldn't have to live at the bar forever. (There you go Spencer, you're on the blog now too.) Actually there's a funny story about how Spencer accidentally became my roomate but I'll save that for another time. 

There's a line in that Cat Stevens/Rod Stewart/Sheryl Crow song that says "When it comes to being lucky she's cursed". I said in my last blog that I've always been unlucky. I felt like I could relate to that line. But in reality, it's not true. I've had some difficult challenges to overcome, no doubt. 

Looking at the people I've somehow managed to bring into my life over the past few years, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. I would never in a hundred years trade the people in my life now to get the old ones back. I still love them too, this is just a better fit for me. And Cam, I totally completely hope we're friends until we die. Which is hopefully a long, long time from now. And in the meantime, I hope we have lots of adventures I can write fun blogs about. 

Sullivan out. 

*graffiti at our local

Hot Mess

Thank you everyone who commented on my last post. Y'all are the most awesome readers a girl could ask for. 

I'm happy to report I am finally, after so many weeks, feeling better and able to leave the house - not just for doctors appointments. I've missed having Cat around, she was always good company when I was not well. My girlfriend decided to loan me her dog this week while she's at work. Being a dog walker wasn't really in my career plan, but for now, it gets me out of the house a little bit every day and I'm finally, more than halfway through July and summer, starting to get a little color and feel a bit more alive. Animals really bring so much joy and comfort into our lives. At the end of the day, they give us so much more than we give them and their love is unconditional. 

Unconditional love. Quite the idea, isn't it? That no matter what we do, how many times we mess up, that love is always there for us to lean on. I'll be the first to admit I am one of the most imperfect people out there. I bet we all feel like that at times. 

I know it's an uphill battle for so many of my friends who have been through the same or similar experiences as I have. Being cast off by friends and family for choosing a path they don't agree with is traumatizing. 

It's funny, I've been seeing doctors all the time since I've been off work, but I decided I should make an appointment with a different doctor I haven't seen in awhile. He's very good, very expensive. I went to his website to look up his email address and I noticed he'd added something new to the list of issues he works on with his clients. Religious Trauma Syndrome. It's actually #2 on his list now. Well, I'm happy I was able to help build that into his experience. And a little bit surprised there's actually a name for it. I looked it up, it's a real thing. 

I've been following a lot of ex-JW chats and websites since Rosemary wrote my story for Canadian Living. I understand the hurt, pain, depression, anxiety that they all feel. Anger towards the Watchtower. I can't say I can tell any of you with any certainty that we will all ever completely get over that. I know I'm still a hot mess. But we can get close :)

Did I ever tell you that my favorite ice cream is mint chocolate chip? (I do have a point and I will get there...) There's never enough chocolate chips. Yes, the mint ice cream is good but the chocolate bits make it so much more special. 

The happiness trap that I think we get stuck in is not appreciating "good" as being "good enough" and always longing for the special something. If everything were special, the word would not have any meaning at all. 

If we decide to stay stuck in the past, mourning the people we've lost, we don't have enough room in our hearts to truly love and appreciate the new ones who come along. We might not even notice them. If we decide to hold grudges against our families who may have shunned us but have come around now, we're the ones building fences around us to keep them out, the ones who are not able to show the unconditional love and forgiveness we so desperately wanted. 

You know, if you pick all the chocolate chips out of the tub of ice cream, next time you open it you'll be disappointed that you were so greedy. Maybe we need to realize that "good" really is good enough. The special stuff comes and goes and it should be that way. 

Just so y'all don't think I'm turning into a total softy here, I will criticize this article on jw.org (link embedded in the quote). 

Those who were baptized as Jehovah’s Witnesses but no longer preach to others, perhaps even drifting away from association with fellow believers, are not shunned.

Ok, "not shunned" here is open to interpretation. It's quite a misleading statement actually. Because outside of immediate family (if you're very lucky), maybe they don't put their heads down and walk past you on the street like you don't exist, but they still "shun". You're not alive, you're not included in their lives. You may have been friends for a lifetime, but they don't check in. I run into old acquaintances sometimes, and they don't even remember who I am. Old friends cut you off. It's still shunning. 

jw.org is probably trying to soften their bad reputation. It's a different world out there than it was before the internet, people who got disfellowshipped then were alone. Now they build communities. And they are putting their stories out there. 

I was sure, positive that they would come after me for having succeeded in getting my story told to millions of people. I work in marketing and I know how big corporations monitor the PR about them that gets out there every day. I believe I got away with it because they don't want a follow-up article published describing how they disfellowshipped me again for simply telling the truth.

I've been feeling so bad for so long, the past couple of days, I'm just so happy to feel "good". I hope some of that special stuff comes my way too, but for now, this is awesome. I have a freezer full of ice cream and a puppy to hang out with during the day. Great friends and the peace of mind that comes with doing what I know was the right thing. Religious Trauma or any other trauma we've been through can be conquered by working on our thoughts, our outlook, our appreciation of all the great things in our lives. No matter what anyone else tells you, there is more than one way to be happy. And we're all a hot mess at some point or another in our lives, so don't be too hard on yourself. Eat some ice cream. :)

Sullivan out.