Mental health, Mindfulness, Motivation.

This is the post excerpt.


What was the last thing you really wanted?


Wanna be

Growing up I was constantly asked “WHAT do you want to be when you grow up?”
Of course I didn’t know the answer to this question. After some time I would respond “I want to be a fire truck”
Many people laughed and took this for face value, as a silly kid giving a silly answer.
The way I see it was giving a dumb answer to an even dumber question.
Of course a “fire truck” will never define what I become.
And neither will a “doctor”, nor a “fast food worker” nor a “criminal”
Silly adults, asking WHAT will I become as if one label will define my entire self.
I hope that one day people will ask my parents what there son is doing and they will reply “he is happy” and they will be proud.
When will we ask WHO do you want to become. And I’m not talking about super-man. I’m talking about super-Chris.
What morals will you hold dear to your heart? What memories will always make you crack a smile. What experiences will teach you valuable lessons? What goals will you put your all into? How will you learn hard work, determination, and resiliency? What challenges will teach you what is and what isn’t “worth it”? Do you want to get caught up in your failures or entranced in “what else ya got?”
When I was a kid people told me I was so smart I could be a lawyer. So eventually I said I wanted to be a lawyer. And then when I stopped feeling smart I stopped thinking I could be a lawyer. Truth is “super-Chris” was never a lawyer. “Super-Chris” is getting back up again after falling down for the millionth time. Super-Chris is saying the things that his head told him he could never say, and taking the leaps of faith that his head told him he could never take. Super-Chris is casually answering a phone call at midnight and talking a friend down from a panic attack. Because Chris isn’t perfect and he gets insomnia sometimes but maybe that doesn’t mean something is wrong with him but instead it gives him an opportunity to be there for someone. Super Chris isn’t a lawyer, super Chris is walking into a room with confidence and laughing so hard everyone in the room has to laugh back.

Lawyer-Chris could probably get his research paper in on time, but super-Chris can probably give someone else the ideas and strength to finish their essay and to not give up on themselves.
Lawyer Chris would probably learn to hide his sensitivity and act like words cannot hurt him. Super Chris can probably wear his heart on his sleeve, so EVERYONE can see his true self. And with a heart right there, maybe he can stay true to it. Maybe he can realize his passions and chase them relentlessly. Maybe he can pursue happiness and enjoy the ride. And maybe he’ll get that essay done…. eventually.

“WHAT do you want to be when you grow up?”

How about “WHO do you want to be when you grow up?”

I think I’ll be Chris.

#becomingchristopher #wannabe #positivity #mentality

Stay at home boyfriend?

I could be a stay at home boyfriend.

Wait… could I be a stay at home boyfriend?

I’m sure everyone is somewhat aware of the concept. However generally it occurs the opposite way. A woman finds a man, often older but more importantly richer, and they stay with him. He makes all the money and they just get to live at home and never work during their life. And if you’re like me then I’ve sure you’ve had your moments where you’ve thought “ah that wouldn’t be so bad.” So could I, a 22 year old somewhat attractive young man with no impressive set of skills, be content, happy, or in any way fulfilled by living the life of a stay at home boyfriend?

First of all we have no idea what feelings I could have for this hypothetical woman, both physically and emotionally, so let’s just skip past that minor detail (haha).

I’m bad at housework as it is. And I don’t like doing it. Folding the laundry is an extremely painful experience for me and I don’t see how doing it more often could change how strongly I feel about it. If you want to know how I do washing dishes just talk to my roommates. So I think you get the point. We are off to a rough start. However, as someone who currently has no idea what they are doing with their life, having that weight taken off my shoulders sounds like a blessing. I would have a purpose. Right? Just keep things in order and then my life would be taken care of.

Wrong. I’m starting to believe that the reason I have struggled so much with finding my true passion and more importantly channeling my passion into actually doing something is because I need something big in my life. I need to accomplish great things or I will never be satisfied. I could take away so many of the struggles I deal with in my current life. Where is my next paycheque coming from? What am I going to pursue? Who am I going to pursue? I could answer all of the common questions I ask myself. That would be nice. But would I capture the art of fulfillment? Hard no on that one captain.

But what if I never achieve fulfillment? What if I never find my true purpose, my bliss? I still have to try. I believe the journey will be worth it if maybe, somehow, I can get away with doing a little less laundry.


Life is a mirror

I’ve been having a very difficult time lately. Which isn’t entirely uncommon for me. I know I’ve been in a very similar position before. And I’ve realized that when I go through these especially rough periods in my life, 2 things are always present.

1. I believe that life is being unfair to me.

2. I act out with anger, frustration, and negativity.

Is it just me or do those 2 things probably affect one another? I am reminded of the story where an angry dog walks into a room full of mirrors and only sees angry dogs staring back at him. Then a happy dog walks into the same room and he only sees smiling dogs and wagging tails.

Truth is, although I feel almost entirely convinced that life is out to get me right now; logically it just isn’t so. Maybe, MAYBE 1 or 2 bad things have happened to me that weren’t at all my fault. But last time I checked, that’s what life is. In fact, I’m starting to think that the reason it feels like life is picking on me is because I’ve become angry and I’ve been expressing too much negativity to life.

Sure, maybe even if I never got angry then 1 or 2 bad things would still happen to me. But I’m guessing that they wouldn’t feel as bad and they’d be easier to handle. Do you guys think I’m on to something here?

Problem is now I’m stuck in this rut where too many bad things have happened to me and my shoulders are so so heavy and I can’t let anything go because I don’t even know where to start.

I’m reminded of an idea from Tony Robbins in that blame can not be one dimensional. “Cause if you’re going to blame people for all the sh*t you better blame them for all the good too.” Accepting that statement makes it a lot harder to keep grudges.

Whether it be relationships, family members, or jobs; if you want to blame someone or something for 1 bad thing you have to give them/it the credit for all the good that has come too.

How can I stay mad at life when life has shown me the most amazing things in this world? If I want to blame life for the bad then I have to blame it for every time I’ve cracked a smile, broken up in laughter, or been stunned by something so beautiful.

How can I stay mad at a parent for doing me wrong in one aspect when I have them to blame for making me the man that I am today? The man that is sweet and caring on the inside. Not the man that fights with the world, showing snarls and clenched fists. But the man that is open and confident with his heart on his sleeve.

Smile at the mirror if you want it to smile back.


#christopher101 #tonyrobbins #positivity #mentality #positivementality #wellness #forgetselfhelp #helpyourself

Life is a 3 ingredient meal.

You know those moments you’re breathing so fast but not breathing at all?

You’re crying out so loud but you can’t make out a sound?

The worlds moving so fast but time won’t move at all?

I pray you don’t.

But what do you do? Simplify. In school they teach you to multiply. I can do that with my problems. I can add them all up. Make it a game, we’ll call it 7 up. My problems grow exponentially. They could never stop growing; potentially. My problems always multiply. But instead I think I should simplify.

Life is simple.

3 ingredient meal.

I was just a kid. Too young to remember, to old to forget. I went to bed real early. Because I could feel a storm coming. My mother was smoking. My father was pacing. My fingers were loosely gripped around the pillow that was cowering over my head. And then those chubby little fingers clamped down the very second that I took my last real breath of the night and my parents shouted the first daggers of the fight.




I never actually remember the arguments. My father was gone. I sat outside my mothers bedroom and listened to the tears rolling down her cheek inside. Eventually she came back to the present. She had a kid to take care of. Something to do. I hadn’t eaten since lunch. I don’t know how she managed, but she came out of that room with a smile on her face, asking me if I wanted to go to Mcdonalds.

I always do.

And when we got there and the restaurant was closed, her brave smile remained. Looks like we get to make something at home!

It was late, we were both very tired, and there wasn’t a lot of food in the house. What to do? Simplify. There were always noodles in the pantry, eggs in the fridge, and sugar in the cupboard. Cook the noodles, fry them with the eggs. And add sugar to sweeten up your life. With those 3 ingredients my mother showed me how to make the easiest, and at that moment, most delicious meal in the world. It was awesome. And I went to bed that night with a happy stomach to battle my worried heart.

3 ingredients to life.

1. Something is going to happen

2. It is going to effect you in some way

3. You get to choose what to make of it.


#cooking #mentalhealth #mentalhealthy #simplicity #wordstoliveby

Is it a disorder or just an order

Sometimes I sit down when the buzzing in my head is at a high and I try to write out what it means.

It always comes out different.

And now I’m afraid it could hurt other people. That’s not what I want at all. Part of me think I write to find a way to help others. Part of me wants to write to try to help myself. The only reason I started writing was to just try to figure some of it out. But I have never written in my journal or on the internet with the intention of putting blame on other people for my difficulties or expressing any distaste.

But I guess I’m not perfect. Haha.

Cause if I was I wouldn’t be here 🙂

Thank you for understanding my difficulties. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for your desire to move on.

Love yourself. Work on yourself. I’ll be here working on me.


Stuck in the mud.

I think I’m an eagle.

An eagle stuck in the mud.

I feel like I have the ability to fly. To soar above the rest. Ive had thoughts like this ever since my grade 8 English teacher sat me down and told me I seemed very intelligent but I hadn’t handed in a single assignment on time and ceased to put effort into anything.

Now I’m sure I wasn’t the only one acting this way in high school. But what can separate myself from the other stories is that that behaviour has continued and only increased through the years. And it has left me with a blank page under the definition of happiness and journals upon journals describing the evil twin that undoes what life is about; unhappiness.

Yet the feeling that I could be accomplishing more has only increased to which during nights of insomnia I will shake and scream out to the silent night “WHAT DO YOU WANT OF ME?”

I see myself in an eagle.

Wise. Beautiful. Calm and non threatening but you wouldn’t want to mess with it because those same talons that gracefully perch on branches could leave you in pieces. It looks eaves beauty wherever it goes in a single feather. Always looking over the world.

Not so powerful when it’s stuck in the mud.

In August 2016 there was a video released of a photographer in Poland rescuing an eagle out of mud. The eagle was clearly losing the battle and the photographer saved its life.

Sometimes I feel like I’m waiting for my photographer even though I know they aren’t coming.

But a thought occurred to me today. I’ve always thought of that saviour as a human being. But what if it isn’t. What if that saviour lies within me. What if it’s a passion. After all so many famously grand people in this world: artists, celebrities and musicians all battle with their own mental illnesses. And they use it to do awesome things.

At a time, when in the midst of one of my lowest lows, I reached out to the person closest to me at the time. I asked “What is the point of life?”

You might’ve heard suicidal people ask this question before. I’ve heard all the common answers about being with loved ones and seeing what the world has to offer. But I remember her answer so clearly. “Maybe the point in life is to be there for other people.”

This hit home for me. You see it wasn’t a generic response for anyone anymore. This was a response for me. This is the point in MY life. And I want to be there for other people. To make a difference that the voice in my head can’t ignore. To do good. To be a difference maker. To be worthwhile.

So I’m an eagle. And I’m stuck in the mud. But my saviour is here and I promise you I’m getting out soon.

#hope #eagle #imgonnafly #resilient #hopeful #mentalhealth #mentalhope #inspiration #mentalillness #betteryourself #christopher101 #antidepressed



The 3 scariest words I can say or hear: I DON’T KNOW

Where do you want to go? What do we do now? How do you feel? Why are you acting that way?

I remember that in high school I had convinced myself that I was ugly and incapable of being loved. And I reached some weird, comforting acceptance with that notion. You see the voice in my head could convince me of anything. We all have an internal dialogue that may busy our mind or stress us out. Yet it is almost as if the voice I speak of is separate from myself. It represents all the judgement and hate that the world could pour down onto a single person. This voice looks down at me as if I’m the most gullible, vulnerable child one could imagine. And it holds no mercy. It throws my sense of logic and reasoning out the window and can convince me of anything with its overpowering negativity and implication of emotional danger.

At this point of my life I have fought back for the right to believe that there are people in this world who could find me attractive and better yet people who could love me. But even still, in my darkest moments, I am convinced otherwise.

Do you know how lonely it is to live in a world where you are surrounded by people who cannot love you?


The 3 most destructive words I can hear: BE A MAN

In my adolescence I remember getting into yet another fight with my older brother and I ran out of the house as my emotions boiled over. I can still see my childhood house so vividly.

I sat on the edge of our tiled walkway outside the front door, with my bare feet on the gravel and my head stuck between my knees. Snot was dripping down from my nose and splashing on the rocks below. I could hear my father yelling from inside but this time I did not go to him. I could not hold my head up and look him in the eyes. Eventually he came to me and explained that I had to find a different way of expressing my emotions because “real men don’t cry”. To this day I can still pinpoint the moment when a part of my childhood died and ‘Manhood’ became a dream that I would forever chase and never achieve.

That moment fragmented my relationship with my father for years to come. I’ve never felt man enough to impress a girl I liked. I’ve never felt man enough to be comfortable working a hard labour job. And when I got jumped and sucker punched by a kid and his friends and I offered a handshake instead of a fist in return I was the coward and he was the man. And when the girl pleads with me to open up and tell her what’s in my head I’m too much of a ‘man’ to show her my true emotions.


The 3 saddest words anyone can say: I GIVE UP.

I have no idea when I first became ‘depressed’ but I do know graduating high school was the beginning of the almost end for me. I had no idea what to do with my life, and that tore me apart. I concluded that I would just work my hardest at whatever work I could find and at the end of each day if I had made more money than I had lost; then it was a step forward. No matter how small that step might’ve been. But it broke me down. I lost my spirit. I became  irritable and aggressive with my words. The negativity of the voice in my head had taken over my whole livelihood. I lost myself. And then I drove away the woman that I loved so dearly.

At this point it felt as if it was me against the world, and the world was clearly winning. I finally said those three words. The voices took over in my head. You can’t live without her. You can’t do this. You’re worthless. You should be ashamed. I gave up.

There was the time I went into the bathroom, found a bottle of sleeping pills and swallowed all that were remaining. I awoke to an urgent knocking on the door and to this day I do not think I can fully comprehend the fear that was in my friends eyes as I opened the door. That fear was for me? I certainly didn’t believe it at the time.

There was the time I researched how to overdose on Tylenol. You had to take just the right amount in the right time span to have a chance at killing your self or else your body would be able to reject them. It was a lot. Thankfully I’ve never been much of a chemist and I lay in my car parked at that dead end road for an entire night puking up red pills; higher than a kite. I don’t know if it was my suicidal state or the meds but that night my voice came to life. It sat beside me in my car, looked down at me in pity, and told me I was so useless I couldn’t even figure out how to kill myself.


The 3 words that can still win over: I LOVE YOU.

Months ago my father told me he was proud of me. I said thanks, quickly hung up the phone, and began to cry. I have no recollection of him ever saying I love you but that phone call meant everything to me. I know my brother has had similar difficulties in life as me, but we’ve never really been able to talk about it. If only I could say those words more often.

When the first love of my life said it to me I thought it meant she could save me. But it turns out a 19 year old girl, who’s going through her own struggles, doesn’t know how to save an extremely dependent and suicidal boy who won’t let her tell anyone else about his problems. Go figure.

Since then I’ve let fear take over. Fear that I would make the same mistakes again. And when you give fear the opportunity to take control; it will. So here we are. If only I could let those three words heal instead of complicate. The good news is I still believe in the power of those words. Even in my current state of mind. Time and time again I have learnt that I can get better only to end up lying on my bed, restless and hopeless. Feeling isolated from the world and thinking I’ve messed it all up. And the voice is now screaming at me that I do not show people how fucked up I am. That I do not tell people of my story. But maybe love is enough to shut it up.