I brought in the New Year, in Washington DC. While there, I obviously went to brunch… because, obviously! I was having a conversation with one of my friends, and discussing how cold it was.

Me: It is absolutely freezing here. I am ready to be up out this bitch.

Friend: Well you’re only going back to cold(er) ass Canada.

Me: I don’t live in Toronto anymore. I moved to Bermuda.

In a world of endless Reality TV shows, Snapchat, Facebook and other various live media outlets, it really stuns me that people still desire to seek business that isn’t there’s. We live in the era of constant updates and receiving information in the now. We are flooded with dog filtered selfies and #RelationshipGoals. I can literally log onto Instagram and see all the private parts I desire (if I so choose). I mean, we now get live twitter coverage directly from the oval office, literally.

2016 has come to an end faster than a 21-year-old virgin getting head from Korean Stephens. While December always brings about such a joyous time, we get to smell fresh pine needles, drink hot coco and listen to Queen Mariah belt out her very short Christmas list on every. single. radio station. December always seems to bring about a sense of panic for me. Not an overly dramatic 1990s sitcom “gasp” panic, rather a “hearing your mother’s keys jingling in the door and forgot to take the chicken out of the deep freeze” panic. 

They say you have to go through it to get through it. I have spent years getting through shit, but missed the lessons as I didn’t take the scenic route while getting to “through”. I have never allowed myself to sit in my misery and have a pity party. I have never truly had my moment where I shaved my head and took and umbrella to a car window. And while that is extreme, we all have breaking points. We all must have that moment when we stop lying to ourselves and admit that we are not okay.

Well; I am not okay.