serendipity.

Today would have been her 29th birthday. I would have woken up, sent her an early morning birthday text, proceed to spam everyone’s IG with pictures of her and I, call her to scream HAPPY BIRTHDAY in her ear (likely waking her up), and tell her how excited I was to see her later on videochat. Instead, I woke up, sort of spammed people’s IG with a photo of her, and sent another close friend of Kae’s (and now mine!) a text saying:

“Hey girl. Thinking of you today on Kae’s 29th. Love you. Here to chat if you need.”

Both her and I shared very special, serendipitous friendships with Kae. We had known Kae for years and I think it’s safe to say that Kae very quickly became like family to us. In fact, our friendships with Kae are so meaningful that both of us have one tattoo that represents that friendship with her. That loss that we suffered. That incredibly, significant, and abrupt loss. She was taken from us too soon. She transitioned from earth angel to guardian angel too soon. She left too soon. But, just because she’s no longer here on earth with us, doesn’t mean that her blessing and her presence isn’t still deeply felt by everyone that had the privilege of even meeting her.

Kae was an incredible and inspiring young woman. It was a privilege to merely be in her presence. It was a privilege to have been considered her best friend. It was a privilege to have known her gentle, kind, loving, and nurturing soul. She used to pick me up in her car, “Sammy”, blasting Mariah Carey and Beyoncé, making fun of my Bieber fever (which hasn’t gone away, btw). She was always so happy, always singing, and always saw the good in everything. Her smile and laugh and just overall energy was contagious. In fact, it was more contagious than COVID! Just seeing her made me light up. She was a pure blessing.

There are many times in life where I wish I could pick up the phone and call her or text her to tell her what’s going on in my life. While I can’t do that anymore, I know that she knows. I know that heaven must be lit AF right now because she’s in it. I know that she watches over me everyday. I know that she’s always smiling at me, even in times where I have found it difficult to smile. I’m okay with fumbling and falling down and feeling weak every so often because I know my girl’s got my back. Her love’s on top, sending me strength, laughter, and love to get me through difficult periods. In fact, with everything that happened, I think she knew I needed peace. So today, on her special day, that’s exactly what she gave me straight from heaven. And to be honest, that’s exactly what she would have given me if she was still here with me on earth.

I woke up feeling lighter, happier, content, and just so at peace with myself. I felt like I could finally exhale and see the tremendous beauty in life. Because life is beautiful, flaws and all. And I think I was just too deep inside my own head to realize that my heart didn’t want this anymore. Despite yesterday morning’s anxiety and mini-mental breakdown, I felt relieved and restored and genuinely grateful that I shut the door; which, was probably a sign that it needed to be done. I went to bed happy for the first time in a long time. And today, I feel excited to move on because it feels really damn good and it feels really damn good to be happy again.

I learned a lot of lessons in those two months. One being I let people in too fuckin’ easily sometimes because I foolishly fall for words and potential. For the next time, I will make sure to take my time and won’t call just anyone my partner because that title needs to be earned, not assumed. I also learned the way I want to and deserve to be treated by someone. I learned that “the one” will never leave me and will never be okay with the idea of losing me. I learned that a relationship really is black and white: either you want to be with the person or you don’t; there is no grey. If you’re questioning it, you want out. I’ve always hated indecision and inconsistency. I learned the qualities I want in a partner and I’ve learned a lot more about what I do not want in a partner. I learned the difference between listening to people tell me who they are and watching people show me who they are. I learned that I have unresolved trust issues. I learned that I am naive in relationships. I re-learned that people will often project their own insecurities on to you when they get triggered by you asserting your own boundaries, so I shouldn’t take their shit personally (or really, at all). I learned that no matter how much I want to be there for someone, love someone, support someone, encourage someone, and stay loyal to someone, people won’t always want me to do that. And that’s cool. Because the most meaningful thing I learned throughout these past few months is that I have a lot of people in my life who do want me to do all of those things for them, who appreciate and value what I have to offer, and who support me and love me no questions asked. And I’m lucky.

Losing Kae taught me that life is way too fucking short and way too fucking precious to waste on irrelevance. She taught me to value the people in my life; to be grateful to those that stay and to be grateful to those that choose to leave—they are often doing you a favour. She taught me to concentrate on what I have instead of focusing on what I lost. She taught me to love hard, appreciate people for who they are, and to live passionately. Because time is precious. Because life is precious. And neither should ever be wasted. You never know when you will lose someone. You never know when someone you love will be taken away from you. You never really know what you’ve lost ‘till it’s gone. And by then, it’s often too late. That said, I promise to live my life everyday from now on ensuring that the people⁠ I choose to keep close—my people⁠—know how much they mean to me, know how much I value them, know how much I love them, know how much I am grateful for them, and know how blessed I feel to have them in my life. And by my side. Because life is too short and too precious to hold on to anger, resentment, or sadness, I wish no ill to anyone, ever and genuinely hope that life grants them with everything they wish for and I hope that they find happiness and peace in whatever they may end up doing or not doing. I forgive him for hurting me and for making me feel used, taken for granted, and everything else I felt once upon a time that’s not worth rehashing. I also forgive myself for believing words, empty promises, and for rushing into and forcing something that I knew, deep down, was never right. I also accept responsibility for whatever role I played in the demise of the relationship and forgive myself for that too. And now that I have forgiven, I’d really like to forget. Because there’s no point in focusing on what was lost, especially when there is so much more to gain.

Thank-you Kae, for gifting me all this much needed peace and for giving me the strength to finally let him go so that I could create the space for better things, better people, and better love. Happy birthday baby girl. I miss you, everyday. Thank-you for always watching over me and for being my guardian angel. I love you so much, always.

synchronicities.

They say that the more time you spend around women, the more likely it is that your periods sync up. Apparently, the same is true for endings. Like is it weird that most of my closest girlfriends all recently experienced their own version of an ending? And all of us are strong, independent, go-getter, career-oriented, dedicated, passionate women? I spoke to two of my best girls today about life and all three of us seem to be in the same sort of boat in that we all experienced a recent-ish ending and are being forced to reconnect with ourselves, rediscover ourselves, and get reacquainted with who we are, what we want, and where we want to go. And while that doesn’t in itself sound so bad because we all know that we are independent, brilliant, and beautiful superwomen who don’t need men to make us happy, it’s still super fucking sad. We all lost someone we love in the shuffle of these respective endings—whether that be our partners or ourselves.

The more I talk to my friends and family and the more I write, the more I realize that there are so many other people going through what I’m going through or feeling how I’m feeling. I mean, misery loves company, but there is something comforting about knowing that we’re never truly alone in how we feel and we’re not “crazy” or whatever tf to be feeling certain ways. Our feelings are always valid. Our wants and desires are never wrong. And no one can tell us otherwise. Why? Because it’s our life. We are in charge. Other people shouldn’t have a say in how we choose to live our lives, what we choose to believe in, how we want to represent ourselves to the world, and what we internally value. Others may not agree with our decisions and that’s fine; it’s not their decision to make. It’s ours. And we should own it. Just like how we should own who we are and how we should own our differences because that’s what makes us who we are. Our differences are what make us unique. Special. And consequently, our differences are what make us attractive to the right people, in our careers, partnerships, relationships, and friendships.

I was fortunate enough to grow up in a loving household where I was free to be who I was, where I was encouraged to be the best at whatever I decided I to do, and where I was encouraged to independently make educated decisions about what to believe in. My parents believed in my siblings and I so much that they always did above what was necessary in order to provide my siblings and I any opportunity we wanted or thought we wanted. They taught us the value of hard work and instilled in us the ethic of responsibility for our own futures and always told us that we could do whatever we wanted as long as we were willing to work for it. While there were obviously times where I thought my parents were unfair with us, eventually, I found my voice and respectfully disagreed with them. In moments where I thought they weren’t listening to me, I very quickly and on my own realized that I could best express myself and my frustrations and feelings through writing. Writing, from an early age, became a sort of outlet for me. And it still is. I mean, obviously, this blog exists for that sole purpose, duh.

I say all of that because I think I’ve always had a strong sense of who I am and was always comfortable being alone because of how I was brought up. Same with my all my girlfriends who are experiencing their own versions of endings. We all have a strong sense of who we are and are all very aware of the possibility of losing ourselves in unhealthy relationships. For some of us, that happened in the past. For some of us, it’s happening now. And that’s okay. Because regardless of when it happens, all that really matters is that it happens. Sometimes we need to lose ourselves to find ourselves again.

I’ve spoken a little bit about my first big relationship, but to be honest, I don’t really remember it all that well because I don’t know who the fuck I was in that relationship. I completely lost who I was. My interests dissolved into his interests. My needs dissolved into serving his needs. My wants and desires were centered around his wants and desires. My plans for myself were contingent upon his approval. I don’t know who the fuck I was back then and if I could go back in time, I would shake that version of me until she woke the fuck up. Because thinking about it now is so gross to me. Like for example, when we were living in Vancouver, he developed an interest in hiking. I do not have an interest in hiking. At all. I think the view points are pretty and are very IG worthy and I enjoyed the beer we drank at the top of the mountain, but like, did I love the fact that there was a very real possibility that I could get attacked by a bear and eaten by a mountain lion and not be protected by my ex-boyfriend’s lack of basic survival skills and shitty pocket knife that served no purpose, whatsoever? No. I 10/10 did not love that. Did I love the fact that there was so much incline and just overall “up” along these “nature walks”? No. I’m 5’2 and my fucking legs got tired and my strides were not as big as his so he’d be halfway up the mountain, while I’d be sitting on a rock trying to catch my breath. Did I love the fact that I lost cell service in the forest, in the middle of nowhere, and would have no way of contacting anyone in the event something happened to either me, him, or our little dog? Fuckin’ no. Like, what was the point of climbing all this “up”, ruining my shoes, fighting off wildlife, and not being able to post a pretty picture the moment we reached the top and finally got to drink our beers? Which btw, were not cold at that point anymore because he refused to bring a fucking cooler, just sayin’. Either way, I pretended to like hiking because he liked hiking and I didn’t even realize how much I fucking hated it until like a year after we broke up. I don’t actually like getting bitten by mosquitos all over my body. I don’t actually like walking on an incline for hours—I fucking challenge you to look me in the eye and tell me you love that, don’t @ me. Yeah, and again, the views? 100% gorgeous, but also, 100% not worth it and would 100% rather just see a photo of the exact same scene, drinking a COLD beer, from the comfort of my own home. I do not know who I was in that relationship and if I were to see myself back then, I would not recognize her at all. I let him control every aspect of my life. I lost contact with all of my guy friends because he requested I did since he “was the only guy I ever needed in my life”. I stopped reaching and setting goals for myself because I feared he wouldn’t approve of them because they’d likely “make our future really difficult” and to be clear, he was my future and had every intention of putting a baby in my belly at age 26. lol. Ew. He took over me and what the fuck? That’s actually super fucking gross to even think about because how could I ever let something like that happen? And the answer is…easily.

Some people—the wrong people—enter your life and have this incredible hold over you for unexplainable reasons. You find yourself wanting to please them and are constantly searching for validation from them, as if they’re some authority figure over you, where you’re expected to acquiesce to everything they say. Because their word is law. Because their way is the only way. And you, as a person, actually don’t really matter to them—though, these manipulative assholes make you believe that you mean the world to them—it’s their power and control over you that is what actually matters to them. These people will judge you for wanting certain things, berate you for feeling certain ways, and will exercise control over you when you’re not behaving the way they want you to behave. These people, quite frankly, fucking suck. They’re dangerous. They’re not your people. They’re stunting your growth. They’re prohibiting you from reaching your potential. They’re preventing you from being authentically you. And they’re moulding you to be a version of yourself that you never fuckin’ wanted to be in the first place. They’re making you miserable. They’re toxic. And if these people are still in your life, then you need to let them go. They don’t want the best for you. They want the version of you they created in their own minds; they don’t want who you actually, authentically, and genuinely are, and that’s their fuckin’ problem. Not yours. I was in a relationship with that type of person for 3.5 years and it wasn’t until a solid year after he broke up with me, because he cheated on me, that I realized that he did me the biggest favour of my entire fucking life.

It took me a solid year after that breakup to just stop being sad, to stop hating myself, and to stop crying over some loser dude who didn’t love me at all. It took me another year to realize and remember who I was before the relationship happened and who I wanted to be now that it was done. During that year of self-discovery, I made some life-changing decisions for myself, including the decision to go to law school. For years, I would unsuccessfully try to force pieces of my puzzle together. And it wasn’t until 2016, a year after being so broken and sad and nearly destroyed by that breakup, that I took a step back and re-evaluated my puzzle of life (click on the link, it’s a really good read) to seriously assess what was working, what wasn’t working, what needed to go, what needed to stay, and where I wanted to go next. I put the pieces of my puzzle back into the box, shook it up, and lay everything about me and my life on the table and flipped all of the pieces of me right side up, so that, in the words of my wise parents, I “could see what exactly I was working with”. And slowly, I started to see clearer. I started to make real sense of my life. I began to trust myself and my intuition again. I had to say goodbye to a lot of people and dreams that I’ve held on to since I could speak to allow myself the opportunity to grow, explore, and create the space for better things. In doing so, I got rid of a lot of people, a lot of places, a lot of situations, and a lot of previously held thoughts and convictions that no longer served me, my purpose, or the woman I wanted to be. It was hard; but, it was necessary because not everything from your past deserves a place in your present—if they did, you’d still be living in the past. Moreover, these things I left and the relationships I severed definitely did not deserve to occupy any space in my future. I was ruthless. I became savage. I became so fiercely protective of my life and who I decided to let in that I ended up spending a lot of time alone. And guess what? I actually loved it. I started to get to know the person I was and wanted to become. I intentionally surrounded myself only by those who loved me, inspired me, encouraged me, and wanted the best for me and not the versions of me they had in their heads.

Shortly after I decided to change the direction of my life, I began decluttering my physical possessions. Having heard of that Mari Kondo book from Ali Wong’s Netflix special, I read it because I was intrigued. And then, I tried it. I put all of my clothes, shoes, purses, books, binders, pictures, letters, trinkets, basically, I put everything I owned on to the floor of my room, the hallway leading up to my room, and my shared washroom with my sister and literally picked up every single item and asked myself, “does this spark joy?” I threw out 50 garbage bags. No joke. My family must have thought I was going through some sort of baby-life crisis because of how ridiculous that scene must have looked to them. But, in doing so, I was forced to come to terms with how much shit I had, how much shit I allowed to remain hidden in my life, and how much of all of that was pure trash. By the time I was done, my room looked completely different. My closet was basically bare. I had minimal clothes. I had created a lot of space. In physically creating the space to make way for better things, I emotionally, mentally, and spiritually created the same space by decluttering my life and getting rid of everything that no longer served the person I wanted to become.

A few months after that perceived baby-life crisis, I had my first major surgery (which I was low-key excited about for no reason) and after recovering, I felt a little restless. Not lonely, not alone, but restless. I loved how much better I had felt when I had taken the weekend to declutter my room and wanted to do something more. So, after watching Jen Kirkman’s Netlfix special, I was inspired to try meditation out. And I also wanted to be a little more active and I hate running and I’m allergic to the gym so I knew those options were def not for me. So, I returned to yoga. And for some reason, at this point of where I was in my life, I really, really fell in love with the practice. I also came to fall in love with meditation.

People always talk about how great yoga and meditation can be for healing. I think that the times I had tried yoga prior to January 2017, I would arrive at my mat with the expectation that I would somehow be fixed. But, that’s not really how this works. Same with meditation. I thought that I would just close my eyes and breathe for a few minutes and feel better. But, that’s also not how that works. Because in both of these practices, and in life and love, you can’t have these expectations that these things will just automatically work. It takes time. It takes patience. It takes an investment in yourself. It requires commitment. It requires work.

So, that’s what I did. I took the greatest value my parents taught me—hard work—and my passion and my desire and my want to genuinely better myself to fuel my investment and my commitment to the practices of yoga and meditation. I wrote down one thing I was grateful for everyday and stuck it on my mirror. I set intentions for the year ahead and wrote them down on a sticky and stuck it on my little buddha, so that I could be reminded of why I was there and what I was working towards and what I wanted to manifest in my life. I can’t remember all of them, but one of them was “get into law school”. Nonetheless, I was there because I wanted to be there. I looked forward to being there. I used my mat time and my meditation time as opportunities to really treat myself how I wanted to be treated; how I deserved to be treated. Yoga and meditation were completely “me times”. I was there for me. I showed up for me. And in doing so, I showed myself how much I meant to myself and how committed to bettering myself, my attitude, and my overall well-being I was. In replacing whatever expectations I may have had about these practices with the focus of being mindful and present in each second, each pose, I let go of all of the feelings I once had about the ending of that big relationship. I let go of all of the dreams and visions of how I thought my life was supposed to be. I let go of the person who hurt me. I let go of all the people who hurt me and couldn't see me for who I was and who I was becoming. I let go of any attachments I had to my past. I just…completely let go of the person I used to be. And that was hard because it didn't happen overnight, it was a painful, but necessary process because so many beautiful and incredible things happened within months of my dedication to myself. For example, I got into law school. I had an idea, I did the work, I wrote down my intention, I positioned myself in a way that I was ready to receive it by clearing out physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual space, and manifested that dream into a reality. This happened because I forgave myself and because I let go of the person I was and in letting go of so much, I created the space within to receive so much more.

Coming back to the present, this morning, before I had spoken to my girlfriends, I had actually done something similar to what I did back in January 2017. I wrote down new intentions of where I wanted to be after articling, who I wanted to be after articling, where I wanted to live after articling, which direction I wanted my career to go after articling, and who I wanted to be with after articling. This year is going to be a challenging one, professionally and personally. But, I welcome the challenge because I know that after this year, I’ll be in a better position to receive everything I intend on manifesting into reality, through hard work, patience, investment, and independence.

To anyone reading this that is also going through an ending of sorts, know that you’re not alone. Your feelings are valid. You’re allowed to be selfish with your growth, with your time, and with your space. You should be ruthless and savage in selecting the people you want to keep or add or remove from your life so that you can fiercely protect the good and happiness that you’ve built and will build in your life on your own terms. No one should have the power to make you feel bad about what you want or tell you who you should be or tell you how to live your life. It’s your life, not theirs. Own your differences; that’s what makes you special. Stop giving a fuck about what others have to say about you; they’re just projecting their own insecurities on to you and you don’t have to listen to them because their opinion literally doesn’t fucking matter. Drop the dead weight that you carry—it could be emotions, feelings, people, your past identity, situations, relationships, literal shit—it’s baggage and you don’t need that where you’re going. Carry only what you need and keep only those that support, love, inspire, and encourage you as you go through this period of rediscovery, reconnection, and reacquaintance with yourself. Know that you’re dope; in fact, trust in your dopeness. Surround yourself with people you admire; there’s a reason you admire them—they have the things you will find buried within yourself. Ask for help and support when you need it; there is never any shame to vulnerability. In doing all of this, you will not only find who you are, what you want, and what you believe in, but you will also establish a strong sense of self-love, self-acceptance, self-worth, self-respect, self-confidence, and boundaries. So, together, let us all take my parents’ wisdom and do the required hard work, spend some time alone, set intentions, set goals, declutter our lives, create the space for better things, envision our future, and create our own little jar of happiness on our own, individual terms, because I promise you, it will pay off in ways we never dreamed it could. And hopefully, definitely, maybe manifest exactly into what we want. And more.

THAT BITCH.

Aggressive lady friendships like the one I share with MB and the other inspiring, strong, and badass people in my life function as my mirrors. When I look at them, I see the qualities that I want to see in me. In fact, I see the qualities that are already in me, but sometimes, mirrors get dusty. Now that the dust is settling, I see that some of the dust has landed on my mirror. I guess it sat there for a while; until yesterday, when I decided to wipe it clean. MB made me realize that I have accomplished a lot and have much more to accomplish and plan for that isn’t at all tied to a singular person. She reminded me of who I am, which may have gotten lost in the shuffle of this ending a little bit. She prompted me to re-establish my trust in the universe and helped me come to the realization (on my own, of course) that the universe is removing people, places, and relationships from my life in order to create the space for something better. And I firmly believe that. Because personal growth and development are non-stop.

People show you who they really are based on their actions. In deciding who to keep in my life, I consider whether that person or group of people serve my own becoming. Do they bring me peace? Do they add value to my life? Can I see them in my future? Do they want to be in my future? That consideration is based on how they treat me—through their actions, not their words. I keep needing to re-learn this lesson that if someone really wants to keep you in their life, they’ll find a way to do so. They’ll show me, not tell me. The people I keep close to me consistently show me that they want to be a part of my journey—a part of my life—by being “all in”. They remain beside me, not only during the giggles and “successes” (whatever tf that may mean), but also during the tears, trauma, and difficulties. I firmly believe that when you have someone in your life who wants to be there throughout all of these things and doesn’t instinctually want to bail the moment shit gets real, you keep that person. They don’t give up on you, even when you are close to giving up on yourself. In my experience, these types of people are good for your growth. They inspire you. They’re your mirrors. They show you who you are and who you can be. These people deserve to be in your life. And not everyone does.

Last week, I finished law school. Full stop. That is an incredible accomplishment—one that I deserve to enjoy to its fullest extent because law school is hard. Getting into law school is hard. Surviving law school is hard. It’s demanding, it’s grueling, it’s challenging, it’s stressful, it’s arduous, it’s tiring; at the same, it is so satisfying, so fulfilling, so enriching, and so rewarding. And not only did I survive law school, I thrived.

Unsurprisingly, my law school experience was far from the norm. I didn’t just take the classes that were expected of me because they were on the bar. I didn’t just do what was expected of me because I often always have different expectations for myself than what others may have. I didn’t just “fall in line” and do whatever everyone else was doing. No. Nothing I ever do in life is “usual” or “predictable” and law school was no exception. I am a passionate person. Everything I do and everything I pursue is done with passion and nothing else. I am decisive; I set goals, and I am intentional; I work towards these goals fueled with nothing but passion, knowing that things are going to work out the way they are meant to. I trust myself and I know myself. I don’t say no to opportunity or to new experiences because I am constantly envisioning and manifesting how I can set other goals—bigger goals for myself, that I could never have even known were possible.

The status quo is boring. I am not boring. I am constantly looking for new avenues and new opportunities to further my current interests and expand upon them in ways that all connect to one another in some way or other. That’s how I approached law school. I knew that I was going to get a job; that never really worried me. I had incredible support from my professors who challenged me to go above and beyond any preconceived expectations the profession may have for me. Their support, coupled with my strong-willed and passionate personality, pushed the boundaries of what I knew was possible and led me to an incredible amount of unusual opportunities that not many people get in law school. And it was that nexus of the potential they saw in me and my own knowledge of who I was and what I knew I brought to the table, that allows me to confidently say that these were, by far, the most valuable three years of my life. Three years of nothing but passionate hard work and self-investment and confirmation that who I am is more than enough (sometimes maybe too much) to accomplish something magnificent with immense meaning and tremendous purpose.

Throughout all of law school, I was determined to look for places to assert anthropology in the law. In 1L, I joined the Canadian Association of Refugee Lawyers (CARL)—uOttawa Chapter with one of my most treasured friends. Together, we co-chaired CARL’s annual “Refugee Night”, which was an incredible experience because it exposed us to a world that both of us felt comfortable in, which is something that can be sometimes rare in law school. I also regularly began doing adjournments at the Ottawa Courthouse for my criminal defence lawyer-mentor, who was dope. I also wrote something on my final property law exam that attracted the attention and mentorship of my professor who was intrigued and Idk, impressed? with one of my essay questions that combined my background in anthropology with legal principles. And towards the end of 1L, I received an academic journal in the mail where an article I had written back in my graduate studies was published. I tweeted about it because it was an incredible reminder of how I got to where I was in the first place. That tweet attracted the attention of another incredible professor—who I never had any classes with—causing her to slide into my DMs to request a call. She told me that she was doing some mystery shopper research in the context of telecom companies and told me that my background in anthropology makes me “perfect” for the type of qualitative research she was doing. So, after a brief 10 minute phone call and having not met her, she offered me an RA position. That summer, we conducted the mystery-shopper research and she also forwarded my CV to another professor, who was conducting research on organ donation in the context of medical assistance in dying (MAiD). Based on both my professional and academic history, that professor (now Vice-Dean) also concluded that I’d be “perfect” for her RA position. Throughout the summer of 1L, I worked at an organization where I was exposed to health, tech, and privacy law because of my professional experience prior to law school—it was also the “perfect” fit for me then too.

In 2L, I was encouraged to audition for the Harold G. Fox Intellectual Property Moot by my 1L property law professor/mentor, the team that which he coached. I had a surprising interest in IP and tech law that really came out of nowhere and I was selected to be the team captain. In that role, I was able to develop my leadership, writing, oral, and interpersonal skills in a way that surprised even me. From that experience, I made two of the most meaningful friendships that I will ever have in my life. I consider myself so lucky and so blessed to have been introduced to these wonderful men who will hopefully, one day, maybe, be my appellate partners for real, for real. I led the team to the semi-finals and finals, and saw one of my dearest treasures win best oralist in both the non-graduating year category and overall category. That was an indescribable experience and one where I learned so much about myself, the law, and types of people I want to work with in my professional and personal life. Also that year, I presented our summer mystery-shopper research before the CRTC hearing on abusive and misleading sales practices. That experience was wild. It gained so much media attention that people who I hadn’t spoken to in years were sending me the CBC article telling me how proud of me they were. Several months after that hearing, the CRTC released a manual indicating a policy change that was inspired by the findings of our research. That moment made me feel at ease with the law because in law school we learn how difficult it is is to create change; but, the work I did as a law student was able to effect some pretty meaningful change in a world of law that I never knew I was interested in. I was also invited to “model” in the #LawNeedsFeminismBecause campaign because myself and a group of badass bitches inherited the uO Feminist Collective—a rogue feministive club—from another fellow badass woman in law.

At the end of 2L, I was also offered a position at the Samuelson-Glushko Canadian Internet Policy and Public Interest Clinic (CIPPIC) and not so subtly suggested that if they hire me, then they should also hire my dear friend because he’s probably the most brilliant legal mind I have ever met. And thank God they did because my summer and 3L experience would have been drastically different if they didn’t listen to me!

Over the summer, I also gained another RA position in the field of international investment law, lol, what? Again, this happened at the recommendation of my consumer rights’ superstar mentor who told this professor—who, co-incidentally did teach me contracts and business organizations—to hire me. But, the bulk of my summer work was at CIPPIC. There, we worked on advancing consumer rights research and access to justice in the digital age and a reverse class action copyright case. And we drank a lot of coffee. That work carried us into 3L, where we were reunited with our third appellate partner. Together, the three of us submitted our first motion in the Federal Court. We went from drafting moot facta on copyright and industrial designs to drafting federal court facta on copyright and class actions in less than 6 months. Our work in the Voltage case attracted the attention of Dr. Hayleigh Bosher, an editor of IPKat, a widely read international intellectual property law blog where brilliant and leading legal academic scholars from across the world contribute their expertise and insight into all things IP related. She slid into my Twitter DMs and asked if I would consider writing a blog post about the case. I told her that I'd only write it if my best friend could write it with me. So we did. As 3Ls. Law students. We published in this crazy digital space that has an international, not just domestic, audience. You can find that blog post here or here. Shortly after that, the three of us drafted a memorandum of argument for an application for leave to intervene in the Supreme Court of Canada case of Uber v. Heller. Then, we drafted that factum. That went to the Supreme Court of Canada. We were 3Ls. Take that in.

We also comprised uOttawa’s team for the Oxford International Intellectual Property Moot. So, after drafting federal court and SCC facta, we reverted back to drafting our moot facta—and honestly, I think that caused the three of us more grief than the real deal. While we never got to to go to Oxford to present our oral submissions due to the COVID crisis, the experience of working together, as a team: building up our arguments, building up our (my) confidence, developing our arguments, developing ourselves, strengthening our arguments and strengthening ourselves, allowed our friendship to grow in unexpected ways because of how much we all value, respect, inspire, and love each other.

While I was doing all of this IP and tech law in 3L, I was simultaneously balancing my moot obligations with my CARL obligations, as after two years of co-chairing Refugee Night, my treasured lil’ babe and I became Co-Chairs of the organization. Not only did we oversee the planning and execution of Refugee Night, bake sales, committee meetings, but we also oversaw the planning and execution of LobbyCon, an entirely student led advocacy event where law students across Canada came to lobby MP’s about substantive issues related to immigration and refugee law. That was a Herculean task and I’m so grateful to have had such a reliable, competent, and stable partner in my lil babe for taking leadership in times where I needed to focus my attention on my other obligations. Also in 3L (man, this was a short year, but I didn’t realize how much I did!), I became the RA to an incredibly inspiring professor to conduct research of things that excite me and remind me of the anthropologist I am. I also conducted research in the context of AI tech and criminal law for this incredibly inspiring and prominent criminal defence lawyer in Toronto who I think is pure #goals. I gained the opportunity to work with her through my work with CIPPIC and am now lucky to be able to call her one of my many mentors. Finally, throughout all of law school, I joined the Women’s Legal Mentorship Program (WLMP) to become a “mentor” to the cutest baby lawyer, ever, and am so grateful to that organization for bringing that sweetheart into my life. I also became a mentor to a lot of other law students who somehow heard about me and the work I’ve done through their professors.

I came to law school knowing that I wanted to help people, because that has really always been my purpose. That said, I knew I had a major interest in pursuing public law and the many forms of it. However, I also came to law school with an open mind. Because of that, I was gifted the opportunity to explore, develop, and hone other interests related to IP and tech law. I struggled with which direction I wanted to pursue after law school because I genuinely loved both. One was my true practical calling and one was my true academic interest. Therefore, I opted to just do both. Because I can. Because if I really, really want something, I’ll find a way to do it. To get it. To work for it. I’m driven by passion.

Clearly, I love to write—this blog is testament to that. So, I naturally took classes that required me to write and unsurprisingly, these were the classes I had wanted to take because they covered things that I was genuinely interested in. So, over the course of three years, I got to write about some pretty compelling and interesting things. For example, I wrote a paper on media trials that result in wrongful convictions and the subversion of the presumption of innocence called: “‘Fuck Apologies’: The Erasure of the Presumption of Innocence in the Court of Public Opinion”. I also wrote a paper that allowed my interests in trademark law, boujee fashion designers, and random rap lyrics to coalesce called: “‘These Expensive, These are Red-Bottoms, These are Bloody Shoes’: A Distinctive Analysis of the Modernization of Canada’s Trade-marks Act”. I also wrote a paper that allowed my interests in social media, anthropology, race, intersectionality, and the development of law and policy to intersect called: “‘#StayWoke—Storytelling through Twitter’: An Analysis of How Twitter is Used by Racialized and Vulnerable Members of the University Community”. I wrote another paper that forced me to revisit the horror of dating apps (after I had made the new year’s resolution to stay away from them), by analyzing how their terms and services agreements allowed for or denied consumers access to justice in the context of online abuses called: “‘Tap That’: Consumer Rights in Online Dating Apps”. I wrote another paper that compelled me to deep dive into my anthropology past and connect it to my current reality of criminal law practice called: “‘Orderly Disorder: The Social Role of the Criminal Justice System”. Finally, the last paper I wrote really solidified my feet in two worlds, where I drew upon the legal research we conducted for the Oxford moot that sought to balance copyright with freedom of expression, thereby a paper broadly balancing IP and tech law with public law, called: “‘In the Public Interest’: Constitutionalizing Copyright”.

I also researched drafted written submissions about copyright issues related to originality, non-human authorship, and copyright protection in industrial designs. I researched and drafted *winning written arguments opposing a certification motion in Canada’s first reverse class proceedings filed in the Federal Court. I researched and drafted arguments on substantive criminal and immigration related issues about the applicability of Charter values in inadmissibility hearings. I research and drafted arguments about contractual consumer rights’ issues related to the ubiquity of boilerplate, access to justice, and the evolution of the doctrine of unconscionability in arbitration agreements. Finally, I researched and drafted written submissions on compulsory licensing regimes in patent law, trademark cancellations, and public interest and quotation defences to copyright infringement.

For me, writing = learning = growing. So, when I’m interested in something, I become passionate about it. I commit myself to it. I commit myself to learning more about it and have this unstoppable drive to dive deeper into it: to grow with it. That goes for my academic, professional, and personal pursuits. I find value and meaning in all things I do—no matter how big or small—because I move, act, behave, and grow with intention; with purpose. Having accomplished so much in such little time, I’m inspired and excited to see where my passions and interests take me. I have an idea of where I want to go and tbh, I have an idea of where I will likely end up. But that’s for another day. For now, I know that my future is super fucking bright. I have done—and will continue to do—some incredible things and have attracted all of these opportunities to me by being open to uncertainty and by remaining true to who I am. Even when “I’m crying crazy”, my DNA test shows me (and my mirrors show me) that “I am. 100% THAT BITCH”.

As my law school journey comes to an end and I prepare to begin a new chapter of my life where I will be articling at a progressive criminal defence firm, I am reflecting heavily upon who I want to start this chapter with and the types of people I want to start this chapter with. Not everyone deserves a page in this new chapter, nor should they.

I’m off to do a whole lotta great and exciting things along my journey and if people are telling me—by showing me—that they don’t want to come along, then that’s on them. That’s their loss, not mine. If they actively choose not to be a part of my present because they are overly concerned with my past, then I am actively choosing not to bring them into my future. I’ve gained some perspective now that the dust is settling and my mirrors are clearing up. For the first time in a while, I’m seeing things clearly. I’m seeing all that I am and all that I accomplished and all that I’ve grown. I’m seeing all that I could be and all that I will accomplish and all the more that I have to grow in terms of how I handle my love life. I’m trusting what is and what isn’t. And what is, is this: I’m dope and a lot of people may say they want to be a part of my life, but unless they show me that they deserve to be there through actions; hard pass. And what isn’t, is this: I’m not going to allow myself to lose sight of what and who I am just because someone else couldn’t see it or refused to see it. And while I'm extremely grateful for the experience because it allowed me to grow and feel things I didn't think were possible, I now know that they are possible. I now know what I really want in a partner. And I trust that the universe is forcing me into a position of uncertainty so that I can readily accept all of the new opportunities, people, and situations that will encourage more growth, more love, and more self-discovery.

That said, I now know that I need to let go of any sort of expectations I may have had to create the space for better opportunities, better relationships, and better places that I never could have dreamed of. And now that I know what I want, I’m going to go and get it. Because like my girl Lizzo, I am 100% that bitch who deserves someone who is “all in” for me the way I am “all in” for them.

Time to stop chasing people and ideas of what could have been—if it's meant to be, then it'll be. Either way, I know that for the first time in a while, I'm feelin' good as hell. While I’m sure this feeling will come and go, I know that shit is normal and I’m not going to be too hard on myself about that because I trust that my comeback will be on one hunnid’. And, even if he doesn't know what he lost, I do. And straight up, that's all I'm concerned about.

He coulda had a bad bitch but *committal 😉.

mirrors.

I’m unsure why this was not apparent to me before, but I’m learning how much I value finding meaning. Meaning in law, meaning in anthropology, meaning in society, meaning in feelings, meaning in thoughts, meaning in relationships, and of course, meaning in friendships. It’s important to me to feel understood and loved for who I truly am; which, I think is why I’ve become so selective with who I allow into my life—romantic and non-romantic. The people I choose to keep close mean something to me. I value them. They are my treasures. They keep me balanced. They understand me. They love me. They don’t judge me. They believe in me. They trust me. They encourage me. They inspire me. They never doubt me. They care about me. They protect me. They challenge me. They nurture me. And best of all, they’re good for my soul. They’re key to my personal development; in fact, they’re the reason I am who I am today. They’re always looking out for me and have my best interests in mind whenever they feel like it’s time to give me some hard truths that I may be too blind to see. They’re my rearview mirrors, always forcing me to recognize and to really see my blind spots. Since my blog has been super sad lately and I’ve had a bad day, here’s a post of gratitude about my most meaningful, committed, stable, fun, and healthy relationship I’ve ever had: MB, this is for you.

There is some current confusion over when we became friends because we cannot agree at how old kids are when they are in grade 3. There is also some confusion over an alleged pet fish our grade three class had, which she swears exists but cannot prove that…at all (she’s crazy and tends to make things up a lot, you’ll see). Regardless, we became friends sometime in grade 3 when we decided to be in the same group together to do a “lip sync”—unsure why we had to do this and unsure of what or how we were graded—to this Vengaboys song (I know, so embarrassing. I even remember we had all agreed to wear “tear away pants and tank tops” during our…performance? lol what?). And we continued our friendship throughout elementary school. I remember we used to talk about what we wanted to be when we grew up and back then, I wanted to be a neurologist and she wanted to be an architect (lol, she cannot draw). I also remember hanging out with her in grade 5 and being so jealous that her mom (also now my second mom) bought her the “Josie and the Pussycat Dolls” costume that my parents refused to buy me because it showed my mid-drift (asian parents, amiright?) In grade 6, the little trailblazer she was back then (and much more so today) began the trend of wearing eyeliner to school, to which my parents were all like “lol hard no, go open your math book”. She also was the first one to have a boyfriend and of course, a breakup. She was more popular than me back then, but didn’t seem to mind hanging out with me despite my lack of popularity, which says a lot about my girl’s character! Not that I was like, uncool, I just wasn’t “as cool” as her. I was just known as a smart girl. But, come grade 7 and 8, my friendship with MB elevated me to her “popular” status, sort of. I don’t really know man, we both had a separate groups of friends, but always had a closeness and like, who really knows.

Either way, grade 7 and 8 were really the turning points of our friendship. We started MBA*17, became obsessed over our Iverson jerseys, started hanging out at “sus” making sure people “linked our cellies” or “lve msgs” while we were out. We began trying to attract the attention of our crushes on MSN—you know, that thing we all did when you set your status to “offline” even though you were really online and then when you saw that your crush came “online”, you suddenly change your status to “online” as well so that they can see that you came “online” and just wait for them to message you?? You know?? Oh fuck you guys, we’re not the only two who’s done this! Whatever, we became a lot closer because we understood each other in ways that our other friends didn’t understand us (or you readers may not understand us). We were the “popular smart girls” who got good grades, had dreams that went beyond Maple, and I don’t know…we just got each other. It’s as if our friendship was just built to withstand anything that life threw at us. We innately trusted each other with things that we probably didn’t share with others. For instance, in grade 8, I remember talking to her about things we might have done with our “serious boyfriends” and then giggling to each other because we had done the exact same thing. I remember talking to her about how sad and scared I was about my mom, who, at the time, was sick. I remember giving each other life advice about what little life we had experienced and what little things we had experienced in our innocent love lives, thinking we both knew everything about everything. I also remember our talent show where her and I and a few other girls, who, I straight up can’t remember at this point anymore, revived the coolness of the Spice Girls and danced to a Spice Girl mix made by our dear friend “DJ Vesh” that ended with me singing this song. The practices were held at another one of our friends’ basements and they were so much fucking fun. I also remember that basement being the site of my first of many “teenage, co-ed” parties where dancing and grinding were the norm; specifically, I remember grinding to this this song. I should just stop talking because this is so embarrassing, but I don’t even care. I need a laugh today and these memories make me laugh.

But, despite our closeness, in grade 8, I made the decision to not go to the feeder Catholic high school that she and everyone else went to. Instead, I went to a private Catholic high school in downtown Toronto because, again, asian parents. At the end of grade 8, I got her and a few other of my close friends at the time to write on my binders (something I used to do on theirs, not because they asked me to, but because I always had no boundaries? Idk) that I would use during high school. Back then, English was my favourite subject and MB was pretty much always my most meaningful BFF, so I gave her that binder to write on. She’s not one for lengthy essays (unless she’s in a text feud; she writes strong topic sentences and conclusions, lemme tell ya), so I remember really appreciating that she took the time and effort to fill up all four sides of my English binder. And interestingly enough, that was the only binder I kept throughout all of highschool. And still have to this day.

We didn’t talk as much in high school because I was so far away and I “left” her (as she likes to say). So, we individually went through typical and atypical high school experiences. Then, I “left” her again to spend two years living in Montréal while I was at McGill. Experienced some weird times and decided to come back home to finish up my undergrad at YorkU. As soon as I made that decision, I made plans with MB to go for lunch to catch up and tell her my news. And man, was she ecstatic. She was so ecstatic that right after lunch, we went to YorkU and she showed me around campus and made me get my student card, etc. During our undergrad days, she’d pick me up, we’d go to each other’s classes, have lunch at Berries and Bloom, drink lots of coffee, make intense eye contact with our crushes, study at the library, stalk our friend M, study at Coffee Culture, go home, and repeat. Throughout all of these rather mundane activities, we’d laugh. A lot. I actually don’t think we can have a conversation without making each other giggle. It’s a real challenge. We’d make up ridiculous scenarios, play them out, and laugh until we couldn’t breathe. Mind you, we still do that. We’d tell each other incomplete stories that drive us both insane, like the incomplete story of where her mom got her mini coin purse and we’d vehemently debate the existence of “woodies” (don’t even get me started. She says it’s a “car” but tbh, it just sounds like a crass synonym for boner). At York, we’d (she’d) also get a lot of parking tickets—to this day, we still aren’t sure how she ever got her degree. But either way, after undergrad, MB will tell you again that I “left” her to move to BC for my graduate studies, and while we spoke often, she could never really wrap her head around the time difference for some reason—IT’S 3 HOURS BEHIND TORONTO TIME GODDAMNIT. Our giggles would continue via phone calls and random text messages.

When I came home in the summer of 2015 to take care of my Gramps, she was there. When I went through some extreme personal family issues, she was there. When I went through the heartache of my first breakup, she was there; she was actually my first call. She came to pick me up immediately and we went off to Coffee Culture, where she let me literally cry on her shoulder and helped me dissect the disgusting text messages I sent to my ex-boyfriend, begging him to take me back (ew). At the end of the summer, she “left” me for the first time and went to law school, where our friendship would continue to thrive through texts. As I continued to get through that breakup, I’d periodically send her sad, funny, random, and neurotic shit, while she’d respond in kind and always, always offer nothing but words of support, encouragement, and hard truths. She would tell me stories about her first year of law school and made it sound so fun, that I came to visit her. Twice. I say this because she only visited me once while I was at law school. No hard feelings, dude.

I think it was the summer of 2016 when we decided to roadtrip to Ottawa to visit the law school and attend the RBC Bluesfest to see the RHCP. We stayed at an AirBnB down the street from my current apartment and debated the existence of the word “rotus”, which, again, she vehemently argued was a root (she meant lotus and the word “rotus” DOES NOT EXIST, fyi). We hiked in Gatineau Park and visited the Lusk Caves and did not bring a flashlight because, in her words, we were not “fucking losers”. We also saw a bear (not eating a salmon from a river, unfortunately) which she pointed out by screaming something muffled in my face and hitting my arm. While we have a lot of fun together every single time we see each other or talk, I don’t think that we have ever had as much as fun as we did on that trip. Though, I'm reticent to say that because later that summer on my annual birthday hike, we drove past an Ostrich Farm and a million more laughs originated from that—like did you know that you can purchase ostrich eggs and ostriches? Like for no fucking reason? We emailed the ostrich farm to inquire about the price of an ostrich; to this day, we have not received a response. Rude. Anyways, she then left for her second year of law school and I applied to law school a few months after, with her encouragement and help. I eventually got accepted to law school and immediately called her (after mom and dad). She was in yoga, but she knew the second she saw my missed call. And the pure excitement and joy that I could hear on the other line through our screams was just so precious. She helped me decide which law school to select by doing what she’s done throughout our friendship: listen. She has a natural ability to say so much, by saying nothing.

She’ll never tell me what she thinks I should do unless I explicitly ask (which is all the time because I trust her implicitly). She never imposes her views on to me and always lets me get there on my own and supports (sometimes unwillingly) every decision I make, knowing that I’ll see things when I want to see things. This goes for everything: law school, boys, career paths, situations, friendships, etc. Everything. Her presence in my life is so powerful that no matter what the situation is, I know that I can go to her to talk about how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking without fear of judgment. She’s a stabilizing force in my life that has been so consistent, so selfless, and so loving. All the time. This is why she has always been my first call.

Once I started law school, I think that our friendship got even deeper (if possible), because now we shared something that no one else from our past really has in common with us—the law. Specifically, criminal law. We could go to each other to talk about times where we felt dejected by law school, cases that left us feeling deflated about how fucked up our society is, and just, talk about the profession. We’re both extremely passionate people about everything we do, especially the law. Our shared profession has introduced another dimension to our already multidimensional, deep, and timeless friendship. And I’m so thankful that we can truly talk about anything and never be bored and always be challenged.

While there are obviously too many memories to write in one sitting, I think that MB’s powerful and endless presence in my life has added—and continues to add—more meaning to who I was, who I am, and who I am becoming. We both share this trust in the universe that things will work out the way they are meant to and we just need to trust the process. Often, I forget. That’s where she comes in and reminds me of the bad bitch I am and encourages me to grow in ways that I’m not sure I could have without her. She is constantly reminding me of who I am. She’s my mirror. When I look to her for guidance, encouragement, support, or whatever the fuck, she reminds me that I’m dope. Just like her. For example, just a few hours ago, she sent this text:

“I get that you’re upset, I really do. But you are a mother fuckin SMART ASS AMAZING INTELLIGENT WONDERFUL woman who just finished law school and has much to achieve and plan and think about. Stop letting this ruin that. If it’s meant to work out, it will.”

And I needed that. Because she’s right. This is all a little ridiculous and all a little too familiar to the ending of my first year of law school, where I was in a very similar circumstance, except that dude was fucking terrible for me. She’s right. I just finished law school. And killed it. But, that’s for another day. This post of gratitude is dedicated to MB.

We have an extremely aggressive lady friendship; likely, because we have extremely aggressive male undertones. We aggressively believe in each other’s ability to accomplish the greatest of things. We aggressively believe in each other’s strength, intuition, and judgment. We aggressively defend each other to each other when one of us is feeling like a walking dumpster fire. We aggressively support each other’s goals, dreams, and decisions. We aggressively and conclusively know that we deserve the fucking world. Because we do. Throughout all of the years, all of the boys, all of the nasty breakups, all of the heartaches, all of the rejection, all of the acceptances, all of the other friends, all of the happiness, all of the tears, all of the drives, the coffee breaks, the study sessions, the growth, the wins, the losses, the different cities, the life talks, the law talks, the love talks, and the many, many giggles, our aggressive lady friendship has developed into something that looks a lot like sisterhood. I’ve known this woman for more than 20 years and I am so fucking proud to call her my best friend.

This aggressive lady friendship is one of the most meaningful relationships I have ever had and ever will have in my life. While neither of us became a neurologist or an architect (lol), we did both become criminal defence lawyers. We grew up together and we are continuing to grow together. And because we’ve never given up on each other and support each other throughout literally everything, I know that she’s got my back; always, and I’ve got her back; always. There’s a reason this aggressive lady friendship was able to survive and thrive over 20+ years and it’s because it has unparalleled meaning. As we grow, we bring the good things from our past into our present and future. I’m so grateful to have brought this aggressive lady friendship through 20+ years of this crazy life and I look forward to another 20+ years and more, with her by my side. I love you, MB. Thank you so much for all that you do for me and thank-you for always inspiring me to be the bad bitch we both innately are. I hope that our aggressive lady friendship has the same meaning to you.

superwoman.

Moments of discomfort and vulnerability often make me feel weak. And I hate feeling weak. And the only thing I hate more than feeling weak is admitting that I feel weak to myself and to my boys, who, quite lovingly, albeit angrily responded with: “You’re not weak. It took a strong person to do what you did. Our job is to tell you that despite feeling this way. You are strong.” And, when I told them about my loss, they replied with: “Well let me start by saying that we love you very much, and that you’re one of the most amazing women I’ve been given the chance to call my friend”, to which the other replied with “This. Many, many times.” Which, naturally made my cry even more than I already was because how friggin’ precious is that???

I don’t think society does a very good job in talking about weaknesses. Or flaws. We’re constantly bombarded with memes or slogans or songs that talk about strength—which is good, but strength is often defined in juxtaposition to the negatively charged noun of “weakness”. Why does that term deserve such a negative connotation? Why do we hate feeling weak? And like, why don’t we talk about it more? Since society doesn’t talk about weakness, I will. I will start by explaining why I think it’s a good thing and why I think it’s important to talk about.

Weaknesses are often associated with deficiencies. Flaws. Bad qualities like: helplessness, failure, faults, shortcomings, and vulnerability. All the “bad” things we ought not to be and all the qualities we ought to avoid. But that’s just not right. Sometimes, we need to feel weak and we need to feel vulnerable and we need to be uncomfortable. Sometimes, we need to feel fear. We need to take risks. We need to feel exposed and uncertain. Sometimes, these feelings are good. Let me tell you why.

Character defining moments are not measured by the amount, degree, or magnitude of any self-perceived failures or weaknesses we may experience or feel. Rather, character defining moments are measured by how we choose to respond to difficult and seemingly impossible situations. In other words, we choose to become who we are by how we respond to our weaknesses. We need to feel “weak” in order to feel “strong”. We need to “fail” in order to “succeed”. We need to feel off-balance in order to come into balance. We need to feel weak in order to make the necessary changes to grow. Why? Because weakness, more often than not, evolves into strength. At least, for me it does.

I think that it is equally important to have candid discussions about weaknesses as it is to have candid discussions about strength. When we talk about strength, we should naturally talk about weaknesses. And we should instinctively talk about how to evolve our weaknesses into strengths because that process is what is important. Strength isn’t something all people naturally have; strength is often something that people need to build to from their weaknesses. It’s certainly that way for me and I’m not, by any means special, so I know that this is likely the way for a lot of people too. And for anyone who reads this blog who is struggling, or coping, or healing, or feeling weak and I don’t know, maybe stuck? Know that I’m with you. You’re not alone. And you’re not actually stuck. It may feel that way, but I promise you, you’re not. And to be honest with you, you’re probably not even weak. You just feel that way. And that’s okay. That’s normal. That means you’ve been granted the opportunity to challenge that weakness by transforming it into your own version of strength. Whatever that looks like. Because what strength may look and feel like for me on one day is very different from what it may look and feel like on another day. Or even within the same day. Like today: today’s morning version of strength was moving forward with my morning routine of coffee and meditation. Today’s afternoon version of strength was writing this post. Tonight’s version of strength was picking myself up off my bathroom floor after an inconsolable crying session that lasted for nearly an hour while listening to the same sad song on repeat. It’s chill. Don’t worry.

Most days, I feel like the strong, independent woman/badass queen I know I am. But lately, I have felt like a weak little bitch who cries at the most inappropriately, random times, who gets triggered by literally nothing. Again, I know that those feelings are okay—and like, super normal—because my character is not defined by those temporary moments of weakness. My character is defined by how I respond to those temporary moments of weakness. For me, feeling “weak” or helpless is actually a mental invitation for myself to grow and become better. It’s an invitation to transform that feeling of weakness into the strength that sometimes gets buried deep inside me. In those moments where I feel like a human trash bag and walking dumpster fire, I am challenged to consciously choose to “put on a vest with an S on my chest" and be the superwoman my girl Alicia Keys sings about. (Suuuper fucking corny, but also, super important). Because I know that every time I may feel weak, I’m actually getting stronger. Every time I feel discomfort, I’m actually growing. Every time I find myself off-balance, I’m actually preparing myself to come back into balance and be the bad bitch I know I usually am.

The preparation to come back into balance, the evolution from weakness to strength, and the transformation of discomfort into comfort is a process that literally no one talks about, ever. And that’s wrong. We need to talk about our struggles more and how we each deal with them and what exactly that process looks like because if one person is going through it, then others for sure are as well. My process may not necessarily be the same as all of yours because I’m low-key neurotic and high-key dramatic, but getting through the day-to-day heartache of processing, feeling, and evolving is a highly individualized process that needs to be talked about. Similarly, weakness also needs to be talked about. We all have strengths because we all have weaknesses. And the reason we have those strengths is because we went through the heart wrenching, difficult, and grueling process of evolving our temporary moments of weakness into strengths. That process is almost always sad. That process is almost always messy; BUT, it is the messiness of that process that intricately weaves the most interesting, unique, and beautiful stories of the incredible people we often look up to who seem to epitomize and radiate strength.

Straight up, this blog was never intended to be so sad. I promised giggles, but there hasn’t been many giggles lately. And that sucks because I’m normally very funny. But I hope that this raw collection of my inner monologues about processing and healing through my sacred practices of yoga, meditation, and therapy have been somewhat helpful or entertaining or inspiring to some of you going through the same sort of things I am. Though I have to admit, each time I find myself in this space, I feel like I made zero progress from the last time I was here. But that’s simply not true. I’ve grown a lot over the past year and a half. But I’ll talk about that another time.

For now, I need to continue choosing to put on my superwoman vest because I am a superwoman. And I know that I am because I refuse to say no to opportunities that invite me to transform my feelings of being “weak” into strength. Because, like I said, I hate feeling weak. I’d much rather do the necessary mental and emotional labour to build strength because that is ultimately how my character is defined.

And PS to anyone reading this: that’s also how your character is defined too.