Here's to strong women

I was raised by a strong woman.

As far back as I can remember, my mom has always been an icon. My earliest memories of her relate to her social life while still being a mom. She had a bestie that she used to hangout with often and drink cocktails and smoke cigarettes. I remember thinking my mom was so fricken cool. She was super trendy back then, wearing low rise jeans and funky colours. She's always loved colours.

Growing up, I didn't really appreciate my mom. I fought with her often and didn't hug her enough. I didn't help out around the house nearly as much as I should. There was always an excuse coming out of my mouth. Whether it was homework, going out with friends, or simply "didn't feel like it", I always was ready to say no to whatever she asked of me. And yet, she continued to love me, protect me, and keep me safe.

I will never forget the first two years of us living in Canada and how much that woman pushed for our family. Working 3 jobs is hard enough on its own, but even harder when you work them back to back to back with 4 hours of sleep in between and the rest of the family still relying on her to be a mom too. I will never be able to thank her enough. She didn't stop there. Once things settled down and we were financially stable enough for both her and my dad to work less, my mom went back to school and you guessed it... she was doing all that while still having a full time job and was a mom to teenagers. She completed not one, not two, but three diplomas in Canada in the past 15 years of us having lived here. These are also on top of the degrees she already had in Romania. My mom has training as a lawyer and teacher and that makes for five total degrees. She also speaks 5 languages - two fluently, and 3 conversationally. My mom is fricken badass.

She had a dream for all of us to live a better life in Canada. We weren't persecuted in any way in Romania or lived a shitty life but I would never be able to be the person I am today if it weren't for living in Canada and my mom made sure I got that. She made sure to push me to go to school, to make connections, to never fight with my sisters and have their backs instead. My mom made sure that I wouldn't live a life that was less than. Was it hard? God, I can't even begin to tell you how much that woman has dealt with, how many tears have been cried and how many of those were behind closed doors. I can't begin to tell you how much she picked up the slack when one of us 'didn't feel like it'.

When I look back at everything she gave up in Romania just to give me and my sisters a good life, I swear I get chills. I hate thinking about the struggle that she went through for us. I hate knowing that she ever experienced pain. I hate knowing that she broke her back working a stupid amount of jobs just to ensure that my sisters and I didn't lack anything.

That's not to mean she did it alone because she did have my dad at her side throughout and this was a post I intended to publish on international women's day but got too emotional as I was writing. My dad is just as badass but this one is about women ... sorry dad.

Now I know this story doesn't apply to everyone and perhaps your mom sucks, but if your mom is awesome and she deserves the whole world and then some, go give her a hug right now cause damn, that woman deserves it. All the same, if your mom isn't the strong woman figure in your life, go to your best friend, your grandma, your aunt, your cousin, whoever that woman might be that you look up to.

We all deserve a little more love sometimes and this is your reminder to give some out to the special strong women in your life.

Walk down memory lane

Over the weekend I went home to my parents' place in Windsor. While I love being home and seeing my parents, sisters, friends and doggo, lately I have been feeling some FOMO associated with that. Everyone is getting older and moving upwards and onwards just like me. My parents are starting to age which is a scary concept for me to grasp on to because I know there will come a day when I will be looked at as the adult with all the answers and I guess there's some comfort in knowing that I'm not that person yet.

On Saturday, my sisters and I took a walk down memory lane to our university in the city. I spent six years there in between my bachelor and master's degree and while it felt never-ending back then, I seem to be forgetting so much of it now. I thought back to my very first year and the "frosh week" parties that went on every night for a full week. I remember that on toga night, I wrapped myself in a flat white bed sheet and accessorized with gold jewelry and went on to dance the night away at the frosh party. That night, I ended up meeting this gorgeous Romanian guy named Alex who I could have sworn was going to be my soulmate back then. I was so enamored by that steamy makeout sesh (even though the steamy part just came from the fact that we were crammed between hundreds of people in a little party tent and there was really bad b.o. in the air). He was gorgeous and confident and so tall.

Weeks later, I was coming out of the library when I ran right into him and his friends. He got down on one knee in front of me and asked me to marry him, I kid you not. I had not seen this man since our toga night makeout sesh, and all of a sudden, he's in front of me proposing. Of course I played along, acted as if this was a real proposal and yelled out "YES" in front of the whole crowd that formed around us. He then kissed me and we hungout for a bit between classes.

I think I ran into him a few more times throughout the year, following which, I don't think I ever saw him again. I would always see his friends around, but not him. Maybe he really is married by now.

As I came out of the library with my sisters the other day, I let all those memories wash over me. The nights spent on campus studying with my friends that strangely, or maybe not so strangely, never actually helped me prepare for a test. The classes I skipped because I would walk in late and laughter would fill me in an uncontrollable way and the only logical thing was to walk right out and go to 7/11 and buy a pizza instead. The time that my friend and I tried to go to a frat party but we pre-gamed too hard in the car and that was more fun to us than going to the party itself so we ended up having our own party in the car. We swore these would be the nights we would never forget and yet, here I am barely hanging on to those memories.

My sisters and I made our way to the student centre (caw) which back in the day, looked much more different. It now had a full renovation and looked very modern. I remember going there before, in between, and after every class just to see my friends when I initially started my program. I met so many people there that ended up becoming my friends. However, as time went on, I made friends in my own program, created a niche sort of group, and, by the time I was done my undergrad, I wasn't even hanging out in caw anymore. By the time that I started my master's, I mostly hungout in the grad lounge with all of my other colleagues and I thought I was rather cool because I was getting paid big bucks to just be there in the event a student had a question. Needless to say, I was shooting the shit half the time and watching netflix.

The 7/11 by the school doesn't even exist anymore. The restaurant on campus that was owned by a total hottie isn't there anymore either. Instead, Memorial Hall got a brand new façade that no longer features the sort of creepy greenery, and the restaurant turned into a burger joint. Tim Horton's in caw got completely demolished and a Starbucks sits pretty behind the service desk. I know that changes are bound to happen in order to keep the campus desirable to the new generations and while I hated my university all together from an administrative point of view, that same place houses some of my fondest memories. So many laughs, tears, kisses and hugs were exchanged on that campus. Sleepless nights and morning redbulls, running on the way to class. I started a student club on that campus, I went to movie nights on that campus, and I sure as hell partied hard.

I can't even begin to list out how many guys I had a crush on, on that campus. Alex was only one of the dozens. And so, while my heart is heavy with nostalgia over these memories that I only get to play out again in my head, I am happy that I get to have them to begin with. I was one of the lucky few to have such an incredible and notable experience in university and I made so many amazing friends and connections. Some days, I wish I could go back even just for a day. Would I look at things differently? Would I care about the same things I did back then? Other days, I am happy that the culmination of all of those lived experiences made me the person I am today.

With a heavy heart after a walk down memory lane, I was happy to just be.

Love love love

Flowers, chocolates, laughter, love.

I love Valentine's day and everything that is associated with it. I love displays of affection, hugs, kisses, holding hands, flowers "just because" and anything that screams "I love you and I am obsessed with you whole-heartedly".

I love love. I love reading about love, seeing love, experiencing it of course. I think love is such a beautiful feeling and worth diving into in the most vulnerable of ways. A couple of weeks ago I was debating whether I am okay with a "grow into, build it from the ground up" type of love in the absence of an extraordinary fireworks and butterflies kind of love. I am not sure if this was the wrong pick for me but I want to try my luck with finding the fireworks and butterflies. I don't think I would live up to the standard of love that I ultimately desire if I essentially made the choice to settle for anything but fireworks and butterflies. I am okay with this decision.

That being said, I cannot wait to have that sweep-you-off-your-feet type of love. I look forward to it.

But until then, I will love my friends, my family, and the people and things that make me happy. I will continue on my self-growth journey and learn about my own happiness and how that comes about. I will catch flights, go on road trips, and make memories.

Love is love no matter what form it comes in and I fricken love my life. I love my amazing supporting family, my incredible work environment, my trips planned for the year, the memories I am making and everything in between.

Love fricken rocks!