Over the past few months, I’ve been sharing my new approach to being healthy (both in body and in mind) on this blog. This particular post will probably make a lot more…
Long-time readers of this blog will know that I struggled with eating well. Food and alcohol have been huge parts of my life, and as established in a previous post, I have always been that girl that would say yes to everything (food and drink related, at least). You could always count on me to have that shot with you, to share that pizza with you, to go for a midnight junk food run. Although my parents always made sure I had very healthy food at home, by the time I could ride a bicycle I was always off spending my babysitting money on sweets and sugary drinks. When I moved out on my own at 18, I often made extremely poor lifestyle choices, and that continued until, well, three months ago.
“I don’t want to be unhealthy anymore,” I thought to myself as I laid in bed that cold Saturday morning. It sounds like the simplest, most obvious thought to have, but this time it hit me in my core. I didn’t want to just be healthy in January. I wanted to be healthy all year round, all the time.
I’ve never thought of myself as unhealthy, but I’ve never thought of myself as healthy, either. I always thought I floated somewhere in the middle, if that makes sense.
But as I laid there, I started being honest with myself. I held nothing back. The truth – there’s that word again – was that I didn’t feel very good a lot of the time, both mentally and physically. I knew I was constantly coming up with excuses for why I didn’t eat well, why I didn’t exercise, and why I allowed my mental health to suffer when I knew there were things I could be doing to help.
The year was 1997. White eyeliner was in. Spice Girls were on top of the world. I burst a blood vessel in my eye from sobbing during Titanic at the cinema. And while…
I’ve waited years and years for this… everyone, please meet Dottie!
OK, so many of you already know this – the title shouldn’t be a shock to anyone who regularly reads this blog or follows me on social media. But I realised that I haven’t explicitly written about it on the blog yet, even though it’s been such a major shift in my life, one that – the more I thought about it – I realised did indeed deserve a post. I wrote about moving to London back in 2013, and then about staying in London after two years, and then again in 2017, when I decided to apply for the Graduate Entrepreneur visa and stay another year. But moving home to Canada? I wasn’t sure if it required any fanfare.
And now, more than six months on, I say fuck that: it deserves ALL the fanfare.