On the day I found out my dad had a year to live, I was standing at work, typing away stupidly about something I can’t remember now. And in an instant, I was catapulted into a terrible grief I knew nothing about. Like a dark room I’d never entered, feeling my way around. Gemma called my boss, my colleagues, and my best friends. Ordering one to give me time off, to get coffee, and to buy moving boxes. In the apartment, I couldn’t even remember my own name. Gemma found my passport, called my sister and arranged a pick up, and booked my flight for the next morning. Early but not too early, because she said I needed sleep. How do I even begin to pack right now? Gemma told everyone what to do. She put on my favourite songs, Taylor Swift, whom she didn’t particularly care for, and made the executive decision to toss my near-empty shampoo bottles. We walked through a handful of outfits I’d need - certainly comfy ones - as Gemma proposed. And when I’d come back to collect my t...
Like a botched haircut, or a bad day, you gotta let that shit GO. Hi, Haleigh here (guess who’s back, back again) I kinda waited to write this because it felt like there was never the right time. Well, it’s still not the right time, but uhh, I do what I want now so here goes nothing. I feel like one of the hardest things for me to do in life is let go of stuff. Physical things, like my old favourite shirt that for sure doesn’t fit anymore, or that book I’ll probably never read again, right down to all the yucky sad feelings I can’t seem to get rid of. I mean sure, you should let yourself feel, like process your emotions and gather your thoughts blah blah blah. But there comes a point where it’s like - why am I holding onto this?!?? It’s HEAVY. There’s a saying I love, written by an author I look up to. Three words: so it goes . I love it so much that I got it tattooed on my body (sorry mom I love you). It’s a simple reminder that this is life. And stuff happens. People are mean...