The post where I talk about my cat.

A couple of months ago, we started noticing a drastic change in Mara's behaviour. She cuddled with us less, she was more violent, getting into trouble more -- everything changed.

She used to cuddle with us at least once a day, and she has cuddled a grand total of twice with me in two months.

We couldn't figure it out for the longest time, and I didn't feel like looking at any of those cat whisperer things or anything. She's our pet, it shouldn't be that difficult to figure out.

So I started mentally mapping out the changes around here that happened about the time the acting out started. There were the renos - which weren't big, but enough to interrupt her living space. I went from being home all the time, to being gone, and Scott wasn't home much either, but I didn't think those were it. They could have been part of the reason, but something bigger had to be the cause.

That's when I realized it was a couple of months ago we started locking her up at night. She used to sleep in our bedroom at night (we close the door), but she had started getting too active at bed time and was tearing out room apart.

I managed to convince Scott to start letting her stay out and to leave our bedroom door open. The first two nights, she was quiet but stayed in the living room. The third night and last night, she slept with us. The last two days, she's come to cuddle with me three times on the couch, and she's been a little less of a brat during the day.

So, I doubt that everything is solved, but it's nice to have a cuddly, wonderful cat again rather than a demon kitty.

Stepping past the mediocre.

I've spent my life feeling like I was less than mediocre. I was the kid who the entire class picked on. I was bullied, I always came in second place for competitions, and though I got great grades, I was never the smartest kid. 

I don't remember really being told that I'm special, or really talented in much of anything growing up. Until I started to write, and started to lead. Against all odds, I decided to pursue my writing and try to find ways to pursue my leadership. 

I was knocked down time and time again. No matter how much I excelled at any job, I was never good enough. No matter how great my writing was, I was never recognized.

There was a moment I was ready to give up. To give up everything I spent my life working towards. If I had never really been seen as good enough before, what would really be different now? Was I really that great, or had people just told me that for a while because they knew there wasn't anything I was great at.

And then, when all hope was lost, a wonderful woman from my church took me aside and told me that she felt God was telling her that my dreams were going to come true soon. I held onto it, even though by that point I couldn't even remember what my actual dream was. Somewhere, along the crash I had experienced, I lost sight of what I wanted. I questioned everything.

But I needed something to hold on to. So I did. 

November hit, and NaNoWriMo started, and I found myself longing to write again. I'd be at work, clicking away on that boring data entry, and my mind would drift to writing. To telling people's stories. To articles I could be writing about the interesting, important and heart warming things going on in this town.

A couple of weeks ago, I got a phone call. A job offer, at our local newspaper. I hadn't even known for sure that it was an offer yet, it was just a phone call, asking me to come in and talk. My heart leapt, and I knew what my answer was going to be. Hubby agreed, that there was no need for discussion.

My biggest regret from the past year was turning down the position when it was offered to me in April. I wasn't about to make that mistake again.

The last few weeks I've been juggling the end of my data entry job with the reporter position. It's been hard, draining and a struggle. But I'm happier than I have been in a while. I feel accomplished. I feel like I've found my heart and soul again.

Because the truth is, I'm not mediocre. I'm good at what I do, and it's time I started using that.  

Say what you will, Madonna is empowering...

I've been watching Glee lately, and an episode came on about Madonna, and the reason they were choosing to honour her because of the sense of empowerment she gives.

Say what you will about her morality, her sanity and anything else, but the show had a point. Madonna's music inspires confidence and beauty. It makes you feel like you have value, like you are worth something.

Madonna has set the standard for so many different things in the music industry. She continuously reinvented herself because she could, because that's who she is. Wild, spontaneous and accepting of herself as she is. 

When I think back to the iconic songs that have really moved me, that have impacted me, and that I fall back to, I can easily say that the majority are in fact Madonna songs.

I can remember after my first real break-up, while Sheryl Crow and Three Days Grace were my cry my eyes out songs, Frozen by Madonna was the song that would remind me that someday, my heart might love again. 

Whenever things get really bad, Like a Prayer is the song that picks me back up and keeps me hanging on. 

But, if I could pick one song, one song to be my soundtrack, I can truthfully say that Jump is the song that empowers me. It's the song that has always and will always remind me that if I don't take a leap of faith, if I don't try, then I'll never actually go anywhere. 

I blast the song before every interview, I blast it when I start to forget who I am. It reminds me who I am, it grounds me, and it reminds me that I have plenty to be confident about. 

So Madonna, thank you. Thank you for giving the music that would be the soundtrack to many of our lives and push us forward. I may prefer Indie Rock and Alt Rock, but your music will always be the stuff that pushes me forward.

Getting our home in order, one item at a time.

Although hubby and I moved our stuff into our apartment in March, it's still not unpacked nor fully set up the way we want it. The delay at first was because of the wedding -- we unpacked what he needed to live there, and what I needed to prep for the wedding, and that was it.

After the wedding, things were just too busy, and by the time I had time, renovations were going on (for an entirely stupid reason), and it wasn't worth unpacking the rest. 

But now, the renovations are done, which means we can finally start getting things finished. The biggest problem we're facing is that we really don't have enough storage space. Our kitchen cupboards are limited, and aside from our two wardrobes that the landlords got us (there are no closets in our basement apartment, and the wardrobes are just big enough for each of us to use one) and two small cupboards in the laundry room, there isn't really storage of any kind. 

In a way I suppose it's a good thing, because it means a lot of junk will have to be thrown out, but it makes it difficult to try and sort and put things away when there is nowhere to put the stuff that you don't yet have the space to put away.

That being said, it's finally coming together. The living room is almost done, and our once stuffed full office only has a small amount of boxes left to be unpacked. It's looking more like a home and less like just an apartment. And even though it's taking a while, it feels nice to have something that we are building and developing together. A place that we can call home instead of just thinking of it as a temporary stepping stone. 

Eventually, I'll post some pictures once our home gets fully cozied up and stuffs, but for now, I just have to say we're getting there.

It's been a while.

It's been a while since I've posted, partially due to busyness and partially due to not knowing what to say. I felt like I was starting to beat a dead horse with my posts about my struggles, and chances are, I was.

Despite everything though, I found myself moved by the kindness of strangers -- of people, some of you on this blog, some from other places, who reached out and prayed for me and offered words of encouragement. Some didn't know my situation, others knew brief points of it, but yet stills, prayers were there without judgement.

One of the things that continues to amaze me about God and about the depth of His love for us is that even when we do not have faith, He still continues to provide and come through for us. My depression started to lift about a month ago. I went from crying myself to sleep every night to not having broken down in tears of desperation in weeks. 

I hit rock bottom about a month ago. I called my mom, and just didn't know what to do, what to think, how to get out of it. I felt trapped, strangled, stuck. My mom reminded me at that point that God still believes in us, even when we do not have faith in Him - His strength, His support, and His love are not restricted by our inability to return those gifts.

A week or so ago, I noticed that my anger towards God had begun to fade. I can't say I ever blamed Him for everything, but I was furious with Him for not doing anything about it. During that conversation with my mother, she pointed out something I hadn't considered, something that explained that anger and the depths that I had sunk to. 

With everything I've gone through over the last six years, I've always plowed through, hanging onto God and trusting that He would carry me through and things would work out. And then the last two years were like one swift blow of the hammer followed by the next. One after another. I stood strong, and I stood strong, and then after the last several blows, I crumbled. And when I crumbled, all the pain I had never dealt with, all the hurts and the fears triggered by the last six years finally caught up to me, making everything that much worse.

It's been a long journey, and it's going to continue to be one. But slowly, ever so slowly, I am finding my way back.