The Truth About Grief, Part Two

Alternatively titled, five things my grandpa taught me

Every time I see a plane, I can hear him laugh.

“Where do you think that plane is headed to Calamity?” It was our favourite guessing game, one that we played ever since I could talk. We would always make up fun destinations, but we never knew where it was heading. But on August 20, without being asked the question, I had the answer.

“Home, Papa,” I whispered, hoping that he could hear me in heaven, if it does exist. “You’re going home.”

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The Truth about the Last Year

Alternatively titled, happy blogiversary

Public Service Announcement

To everyone who has ever supported this blog, whether it was during the time it was at or even the last post, thank you! You know what would be a great anniversary present? Donating to my Get Loud for SickKids Campaign by clicking here 😉

Dear Twenty Somethings,

September 2017 was a fresh start after a rollercoaster summer filled with grief, happiness and everything in between. After a few years of chasing a teaching job that always was out of reach, I had decided to go back to school to pursue a Public Relations and Corporate Communications postgrad. The first day of school was nervewracking, to say the least, but in a week I had made great friends and already knew it was the right choice for me.

In my social media class, we were asked to create a blog – nothing crazy, just four posts over the semester. Since I loved writing ever since I was a little girl, I couldn’t be more excited about having a blog and immediately started brainstorming what I wanted it to be about and what I would call it. After quite a few different ideas (and even more puns for names, which should come to no surprise to anyone who knows me) I decided to flip the idealized notions of what being in your twenties was supposed to be like (something I definitely didn’t fit) and write about the actual truth we face in our twenties.

Hence, the Twenty Something Truth was born!

I thought it would be easy. Once I finally settled on a theme, it did seem easy. A silly confessions post, a semi-serious post about being alone, a self-deprecating look at dating and I was only one post away from completing the final required post. But, I lost inspiration. School was becoming stressful, I didn’t have the energy to try to write something funny and my writing didn’t feel… well, truthful. I remember feeling lost for words. What could I write that was funny and appealing to others when I wasn’t feeling funny or appealing.

So, in a fit of what some might be considered insanity, I wrote about one of the most personal, heartwrenching things in my life, The Truth about Grief. It made me so anxious to share what essentially was a piece of my soul but it became one of the most poignant pieces I’ve ever written, and probably one of my favourite posts other than the sadness of it all. It was definitely cathartic to write. Best of all, I received some great messages, in the comments and sent to me personally, from some people who experienced the same thing and people who said the post made them feel something.

That post helped me realize I didn’t just have to write as the slightly awkward, self-deprecating, sarcastically funny me. I could do that while also writing about serious things I cared about — regrets, summer camp — and my writing started to reflect that. I felt more authentic and connected to my blog. It helped me get through the college strike, talk about my mental health and even promote some inspirational people!

The road to realization

Part of me really just wanted to have a successful blog so I had thought of a strategic plan (shoutout to my PR friends) that involved interviewing other bloggers – partially to showcase other 20 somethings and the fun vibe I wanted and partially to get new followers through collaborations. They were fun and did help bring in people but the blog became less me and my content and more saturated with others. The blog wasn’t bringing me the same feelings. But I wasn’t inspired either, so I was stuck in a rut. In school, they kept telling us that everything we did online and offline should be strategic and have goals but I overthank it too much.

Until Dateless December came about. I’ve always joked about my dating life *cough coping mechanism cough* so I decided why not bring that about in blog form. Four weeks of December, four blog posts joking about being single and accepting being forever alone while really just embracing it for all that it was. I wrote one of my favourite posts (the single twenty something’s holiday survival guide if you haven’t read it and want to) and the blog came to shape form. The most important lesson I learned and applied – only blog when you’re inspired. Granted, a lot of my lack of posting and inspiration came from being busy af and a four-month internship that left me with little social life, but so far I’ve stuck to it.

The truth is… it’s hard

Baring your soul, writing about yourself and your most personal moments for the world to see? Not as easy as it sounds and full of fear. Fear of judgement? Check. Fear that nobody will read? Check. Fear that you’re not interesting enough, funny enough, good enough… check check check. It’s all there. But, I’ve chosen to put my authentic self out there for the world to see and to trust that the benefits outweigh the fear. So I’ll embarass myself writing about my crushes, knowing they might read it. I’ll give a piece of myself writing about mental health and grief, knowing that it might help someone out. I’ll bare my soul because it’s who I am and I’ve come along way to be proud of it.

So what’s next?

Keep blogging when I’m inspired? I do want to write more frequently and have somehow managed to write one a week, but the ultimate goal is to not write because I feel like I have to write. I’m going to write honest posts and try to put that honesty into practice in real life.  So much has happened in the past year and I’ve changed since my first post and grown, all thanks to this blog. Though I’m not going to be as big into strategizing the blog, I am going to use advice from a great blogging book I received for Christmas (shoutout to Sarah for the greatest gift) and continue to grow the blog while continuing to remain true to myself! Hopefully, you’ll stick around for the journey.

Though I’m not going to be as big into strategizing the blog, I am going to use advice from a great blogging book I received for Christmas (shoutout to Sarah for the greatest gift) and continue to grow the blog while continuing to remain true to myself! Hopefully, you’ll stick around for the journey.

Truthfully yours,



The Truth about Endings

Alternative title — The post-summer depression is real

Public Service Announcement

This (somewhat sappy) blog post is best read listening to Closing Time by Semisonic or Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) by Green Day.

Dear Twenty Somethings,

Does anyone else wake up the day after something ends to an intense ball of anxiety, twinged with a bit of sadness in your gut? Just me? Cool. I’m good at a lot of things — having unrequited crushes, being single, adulting — but accepting endings is not one of them. You would think that I would be, having worked at a summer camp for years but alas, here we are. So, like any good millennial, I decided to write about my feelings and share them with the internet who probably could care less.

The “Graduating and Facing the Real World” Ending

I never really thought about endings until I graduated from my undergrad. The morning I was moving out of my rental was the first time I became acquainted with waking up to that anxious and depressing “everything is ending” feeling. I had spent five years living in Windsor, making friends and building a pretty great life for myself. I had even met a pretty great guy with only a few months of school left, so needless to say, I didn’t want to leave. I can still vividly remember crying on the chair in my basement bedroom, the only time I’ve cried in front of a boy and the only boy who’s ever cried for me, not wanting to move. It was the first time in my life where everything was uncertain — my friendships, my career, my relationship. What would the real world hold? Who would hire me? What would living at home for the first time in five years be like? Would I hold on to my friendships?

As the questions swirled about in my head, I knew life was about to change and I could embrace it, or wallow in it. For a while, I chose the latter. I couldn’t find a job, my relationship and friendships fell apart and living at home was quite the adjustment. It was easy to get stuck in a rut, hating that things ended, unable (or unwilling) to accept the ends as they came. It was an ending that made me feel hopeless, lost and uncertain, as most endings tend to do. Eventually, I embraced the change and moved on. The facing the real world ending happened again when I graduated from teachers college but having overcome the first, endings didn’t seem so bad until…

The “Summer Camp” Ending

Anyone who ever has worked at a summer camp knows the post-camp feeling. Spending days and weeks at a time, isolated from the outside world, eating, sleeping and spending hours on end with the same people, camp becomes a little bubble of happiness and deep friendships (not to mention becoming sleep deprived). Then summer comes to an end and the bubbles burst. You have to say goodbye to the staff and campers, who at that point have become a little family. Suddenly, friends who were a two-minute walk away are thousands of miles away. You finally get to sleep in your own bedroom but you miss the comfort of falling asleep surrounded by people you care about.

My first year of camp was the first time I really experienced post-summer depression. Let me tell you – it’s not a fun feeling. Questioning if your friendships will survive outside the bubble. Waking up in the middle of the night panicked that something’s wrong because it’s too quiet. Counting down the days until you’re home again. The best part – going back to camp. But, as they say, all good things must come to an end but it didn’t feel that way when it came to an end after a very rough 2017. When the news came that I wouldn’t be going back to camp, it was a much harder ending. Knowing all my friends would be going back to the place that I loved had me feeling alone, scared that all my camp friends would forget me and the real FOMO that I felt only made slightly better when I secured a summer internship. Which brings us to the last ending…

The “Internship is Over and You Actually Have to Face the Real World” Ending

This summer was one for the record books. Despite a little bit of stress, a whole lot of lack of sleep and barely having any weekends to myself, the learning experience, a little chance to travel (honestly, Medicine Hat is better than you would think!) and maybe something cute to look at made it worthwhile. All jokes aside, while testing my sanity, this summer internship proved to me that I’m capable of being a true PR professional. Even though I wish it wasn’t coming to an end, and yes a bit of sadness and some of that gut-wrenching anxiety still persist, I’m starting to feel better about endings. As Closing Time plays softly in the background, I finally feel Semisonic when they said “every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” See, the thing about endings( DEEP, SAPPY ALERT)  is that you can hold on to the fear of the unknown and the sadness of a fond time of your life coming to an end. But, if things didn’t end then newer, better things couldn’t begin. Maybe this ending signifies a better beginning. “It’s something unpredictable, but in the end is right, I hope you had the time of your life.”

Yours truthfully,


The Truth About Crushes

Alternative title — To All the Boys I’ve Loved Crushed On Before

Public Service Announcement

If you haven’t seen the Netflix Original To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (or read the books), you’re missing out. Also, names have been omitted to protect the innocent (or mostly myself).

Dear Twenty Somethings,

I have two secret guilty pleasures: “coming-of-age” romance movies and crushing on cute guys. I never really thought about these guilty pleasures until I was in the midst of the new Netflix movie To All the Boys I’ve Loved BeforeThe movie chronicles Lara Jean Song Covey who writes five secret love letters to her crushes and SPOILER ALERT…

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The Truth about Birthdays

Dear Twenty Somethings,

Hi, hello, is anyone still reading this?

Holy crap has it been awhile since I last posted – almost two months, in fact!  “Sam, where have you been,” the five people who read this may ask. Well, as much as I talk about my wonderous time management skills (which I do have), with two jobs, school (basically a full-time job between class and homework), and internship applications coming out of my… well you get the picture. The truth of the matter is a lot of my creativity and effort go into school and trying to get my future intact while the blog kind of hangs in the balance. The future has been an all-consuming thought lately.

Nothing gets me quite in the mood for an existential crisis about my future like my birthday.

FYI, my birthday is tomorrow and if you forget to wish me a happy birthday, you’re banned from my life… just kidding (or am I?) With that birthday, comes cake, a present or two and overwhelming anxiety. The older I get, the more my birthday becomes a scary reminder about my future and all that I haven’t accomplished. It probably does not help that, as I interview for those coveted internships  (or WIL as it’s known in my world), I get asked the “where do you see yourself in five years” question.

If you asked me that question five years ago, I would have said that I saw myself as a fourth-grade teacher with a giant ring on my finger (rose gold or at the very least something vintage), a hot but sweet husband and a beautiful child on the way. Yet here I am with :

  1.  an education degree that I won’t get to use as I try to pursue a career in public relations (aka I’m still a jobless student)
  2. two rings that are not close to rose gold NOR are close to an engagement or wedding ring
  3. no romantic prospects interested in dating me (I at least have an imaginary hot husband)
  4. adorable nephews that may be the closest thing to children I will ever have (still a plus, though)

Needless to say, my future is not how I imagined it.

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