Hailey McDonald

The daily self-portraits, recollections and ramblings from an elfish, restless and slightly neurotic journalism student from Vancouver.
mara-louise:

'A Summer Memory'
Two summers ago, we went to Canada on a family trip. My siblings and I learned how to use a fishing rod and it was a lot of fun. My sister caught this fish and put it in a white pail. We stared at it for a while and decided to let it go in the end. That was a pretty nice summer. Hope the next one’s gonna be good. 

mara-louise:

'A Summer Memory'

Two summers ago, we went to Canada on a family trip. My siblings and I learned how to use a fishing rod and it was a lot of fun. My sister caught this fish and put it in a white pail. We stared at it for a while and decided to let it go in the end. That was a pretty nice summer. Hope the next one’s gonna be good. 

(via red-lipstick)

I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired. It feels like I have to jump though hoops to get the slightest bit of help. I hope my luck turns cause at the current moment I’m so broke it’s pathetic.

I feel as if it would be therapeutic for me to start blogging again.

I’m still up in the Okanagan, but not for much longer. I’ll be going back home to my sweet, sweet Vancouver very soon (by at least the middle of next month).

My boyfriend is currently going through some personal shit and dealing with past issues which has left him kind of MIA in my life at the moment.

This year has probably been one of the worst of my short life, to be honest. But, I’ve learned a hell of a lot.

I think I’m ready to go back and reestablish myself, get a job or my job at Superstore back, pay my bills and save money while living at home for a little while until Casey’s finished dealing with some personal issues that have caused a rift between us for a temporary period of time. I’m going to find someone to take my cats for a little while.

I’m so excited and a little nervous about restarting my life. I’m basically restarting from square one. This place and everything about the last 11 months has chewed me up and spit me out. I’m ready to embrace happiness again, friends, love, my beloved cupi-doll makeup looks and my skirt and thigh-high combos.

I’m excited to be excited to live again.

In the last few months, especially since Casey left, I’ve felt really trapped, stuck, hopeless and just generally depressed. I’m trying really hard to get out of this rut I’ve found myself in, but it’s easier said than done. I think going home will be the best thing for me.

I can only hope and pray that I’m able to retransform myself and my life into something I can be proud of.

I’m kinda bummed out. I spent the afternoon and part of the evening with my boyfriend, but he was so exhausted from trying to help out a guy we know and getting fucked over (yet again by the same guy), he pretty much slept our whole visit.

I looked really cute and I just wanted to love on my boyfriend. I’m going to let him just get a good night’s sleep and try again to see him tomorrow. I love him to pieces and hates how much he feels he needs to do for others in order just to get false hope and broken promises for the smidget of hope that these people will change.

I just want us both making money so we can figure it out and have a real chance at a life together. I love him.

I went to see the psychiatrist for the first time ever today. The doctor that I go talk to about anxiety sent me. He took me off of my Ativan and Clonazepam, increased my Propanalol dosage and pushed some more Seroquel on me to sleep. He gave me low-dose Xanex to take and some other medication that conveniently isn’t available anywhere up here until late next week.. so now I have to speak to him and try to figure out how to minimize my anxiety in the meantime.

Every time I’ve been “diagnosed” with anxiety, doctors have tried to push anti-depressants on me because they sometimes work for people with anxiety (because a lot of the time the two go hand in hand).

However, the doctor assured me that he doesn’t believe I’m chemically or clinically depressed at all. He re-diagnosed me with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and mild OCD and officially diagnosed me with PTSD, which he thinks is a long-term psychological symptom of my grandfather’s murder, which makes sense.

I’m going to see my babes tomorrow! I’m super stoked. I’m gonna kiss him hard.

In the meantime, I’m baked and melatonin beats Seroquel anyday.

My mum’s here! Thank God.

My grandmother and dad are very messy fucking people and it drives me insane. My mother, however, provides organization and order to an extent which my obsessive compulsive disorder is mostly comfortable with (except when she used to take clothes from me and put them back in the wrong spot).

I can’t wait to help her make this place feel a little homier while I’m here.

I feel like I’m stuck between a rock and a hardspot. Either I live here for a while, get more financially stable and work on KC and I slowly or I make some money, blow this pop stand and go back to living with the man I love. Either way, my dad and boyfriend both hate each other’s guts and I understand my boyfriend’s perspective 110 per cent, but at the same time, the only way my dad’s ever been a typical dad is with his ability to provide, which he feels is the equivalent to showing love. He feels threatened by the idea that someone else could metaphorically “take care of me,” although the goal is to be able to take care of myself, no matter what.

Why can’t life just be a little bit easier lately?

I’m exhausted. I spent the entire day in the store by myself.

I can’t wait to see my mommy tomorrow. I miss her so fucking much.

I’m trying really hard to find the right words for how I feel about my life right now. I’m hopeful, but I’m crudely realistic.

I just got back to the store from seeing KC for the first time in six days. Oh God, how I missed him. We started kissing and just cuddling each other like it was the last time we would ever do that. But we talked. We’re going to make it work. We just need time. I gotta get my shit together and our bills paid and try to work on my relationship with my family as well.

Either way, my heart is a lot happier than it’s been in days. Seeing him gave me hope. He’s my person. Sure, we have our issues, just like every couple does. But he’s faithful, loyal, honest, protective and knows me better than anyone.

I could be wearing sweat pants and have my hair in a ball on top of my head with no makeup on and he still would tell me how beautiful he thinks I am and make me a cup of tea on top of it.

Our love for each other is realer than anything I’ve ever felt before.

I’m praying and hoping we can just make this work.