How are you feeling today?

By @namasplay_canada

#feelings #emotions #emotionalawareness #emotionalhealth #selfawareness #warningsigns #bodyscan #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #ymhc

YMHC Resource Booklet: Coping With Stress. https://ymhc.me/printables

#anxiety #anxietyawareness #mentalhealth #mentalhealthmatters #stress #mentalwellness #emotionalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #ymhc #resources

I’m Mad at You, So I’m Going to… Go Do the Dishes?

Hey everyone, Tina here. Pull up a chair, grab a snack (preferably something crunchy so you can vent some frustration), and let’s have a real heart-to-heart.

I came across this quote today that hit me like a cold splash of water in the face. It basically said that the biggest rule in a real relationship is that no matter how pissed off you get, you don’t go looking for attention somewhere else. You stay put, you handle it with your person, and you don’t run. If running is easy for you, the quote says, then maybe that “love” wasn’t as deep as you claimed.

Ouch, right? But also… preach.

We’ve all been there. You’re in the middle of a fight with your partner—maybe they forgot the one thing you asked them to do, or maybe they’re just breathing too loudly (we’ve all had those days, don’t lie). Your blood is boiling, and your first instinct is to grab your phone.

In the heat of the moment, the “Outside World” looks real shiny. You think, “I should call my ex’s cousin’s roommate just so someone will tell me I’m right!” or you’re tempted to post a cryptic, moody song lyric on your Story just to see who slides into your DMs with a “U okay, hun?”

It’s easy to look for a quick ego boost when your partner is currently the “villain” in your story. But here is the thing I’ve learned: validation from a stranger is like eating a bag of cotton candy for dinner. It feels sweet for five seconds, and then you just feel sick and empty.

The quote says “stay put and handle it.” Let’s be honest: staying put is exhausting.

It’s much easier to storm out, go to a bar, or start a flirtatious text chain than it is to sit on the couch in uncomfortable silence and eventually say, “Hey, when you said that thing, it really hurt my feelings.” Facing the conflict head-on requires:

1. Accountability: Realizing you might have been a bit of a pill, too.

2. Vulnerability: Admitting you’re hurt instead of just being “mad.”

3. Patience: Not throwing the whole relationship away over a sink full of dirty dishes.

I’ve realized that loyalty isn’t just about not cheating; it’s about emotional proximity. When I’m mad at my person, I might want to launch them into space, but I’m still their person. Loyalty doesn’t have an “off” switch that flips just because I’m annoyed. If I’m constantly looking for an exit or a backup plan every time we hit a bump, then am I even in the car? Or am I just hovering near the door with a parachute?

Real love “don’t move like that.” It stays. It’s messy, it involves some eye-rolling, and it definitely involves some long talks where you both realize you’re being ridiculous. But you do it together.

If you’re reading this and you’re currently “pissed off,” take a breath. Put the phone down. Don’t go looking for a “fix” in someone else’s attention. Go find your person, look them in the eye, and do the hard work of fixing the bridge instead of trying to find a new island.

Trust me, the view from a bridge you built together is way better than being lost at sea.

What’s your “I’m so mad I could…” go-to move? Mine is aggressively vacuuming until the house is spotless and I’m too tired to be angry anymore. Let me know in the comments!

Every possible emotional overlap in Inside Out. Joy and Sadness make melancholy. But what do the other emotions add up to?

#feelings #emotions #emotionalawareness #emotionalhealth #selfawareness #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #ymhc #insideout

Reclaiming Your Peace (And Your Sundays)

Hey there, it’s Tina. Pull up a chair, grab a beverage of choice—preferably something stronger than the lukewarm tea I’ve been nursing—and let’s have a real talk.

I recently had a “moment.” You know the one. It’s that moment where someone looks you dead in the eye and says, with all the audacity of a pigeon trying to steal a whole slice of pizza, “You’re the one making this difficult.”

I’m sorry, what? I paused. I actually looked behind me to see if there was another Tina standing there causing a scene. Nope. Just me. Me, who spent the last three years playing unpaid therapist, personal assistant, and Chief Emotional Garbage Collector for someone who couldn’t find their own boundaries with a GPS and a search party.

It’s funny how that word works, isn’t it? “Difficult.” It’s the universal code word for: “You’ve stopped being a doormat and the sudden friction is hurting my feet.”

For a long time, I wore my “Easy-Going” badge like a Miss America sash. I was the “cool” friend, the “flexible” partner, the “reliable” colleague who would fix your mess before you even realized you’d spilled it. But here’s the secret I learned the hard way: When you spend all your time being “easy,” you’re usually just making life easy for people who don’t deserve the effort.

The image I shared on instagram recently really hit home for me. It said: “When they call you ‘difficult,’ what they really mean is that you stopped fixing their mess.” And honestly? Looking back, I should have been “difficult” from day one. I should have been a whole mountain range of difficult. It would have saved me a lot of money on stress-relief candles and a lot of hours staring at my ceiling wondering why I felt so drained.

If refusing to be walked over makes me difficult, then honey, call me the final level of a video game on “Extreme” mode. I am officially embracing the title.

Here is what being “difficult” actually looks like in the real world:

• Setting a Boundary: “I can’t help you with that project at 9 PM on a Sunday.” (Translation: “I have a date with my pajamas and a Netflix show about bread, and you are not invited.”)

• Enforcing Consequences: “I told you that if you spoke to me like that again, I would leave the room. I am now leaving the room.”

• Reclaiming Your Time: No longer being the “fixer” for someone who lacks the maturity to hold a screwdriver, metaphorically speaking.

We often stay in these lopsided dynamics because of love. We think, “But I love them!” or “We have so much history!” Listen to Tina: Love is the engine, but respect is the oil. Without respect, that engine is going to seize up, smoke, and leave you stranded on the side of the highway in a bad outfit. Loving someone doesn’t give them a “Get Out of Jail Free” card to treat you like you’re less than.

If someone has been in your life for years and they still don’t know where the line is? They aren’t “forgetful.” They’re overstepping because they think the line is optional.

So, here is the new Tina Manifesto. I have zero patience left for people who mistake kindness for a weakness they can exploit. If I have to be the “villain” in someone’s story because I decided to value my own mental health, then I hope I’m at least a well-dressed villain with a great monologue.

To whoever needs to hear this: It is okay to be difficult. It is okay to say “No.” It is okay to stop cleaning up messes you didn’t make.

The people who truly value you won’t find your boundaries “difficult.” They’ll find them helpful, because they actually want to know how to love you well. Everyone else? They can go find a “simpler” person to bother. I’m busy being “complicated” and enjoying every second of it.

Does this resonate with you? Have you been called “difficult” lately for simply standing your ground? Tell me your stories in the comments—let’s be “difficult” together.

Mental health is physical too.

#studentmentalhealth #studentwellbeing #mentalhealthawareness #schoolmentalhealth #mentalwellness #youthmentalhealth #mentalhealthmatters #ymhc #anxiety #stress #emotionalhealth

Language Barrier Nobody Warns You About

Hey friends, Tina here. Pull up a chair, grab a beverage of choice (I’m currently three coffees deep, so proceed with caution), and let’s have a real “kitchen table” talk.

You know that feeling when you’re trying to explain something incredibly basic to someone—like how to use a remote or that pineapple does belong on pizza—and they just stare at you with the blank expression of a goldfish? Now, imagine that, but instead of pizza toppings, you’re explaining why it hurt your feelings when they ghosted you for three days or “accidentally” insulted your entire career path.

I saw a quote today that hit me like a ton of bricks. It said: “Accountability isn’t a language everyone speaks, and that’s the part that hurts the most.”

Ouch. My soul felt that in its soul.

We’ve all dealt with the Emotionally Immature Olympics. You know the events: the 100-Meter Deflection, the Pro-Level Gaslighting, and my personal favorite, the “I Didn’t Mean It” Hurdles.

Here’s the thing: If I accidentally run over your foot with my car, the fact that I “didn’t mean to” doesn’t magically make your foot unbroken. I still need to help you get a cast! But in the world of emotional immaturity, people think their intent is a magical eraser that wipes away the impact.

• Them: “I’m sorry you took it that way.” (Translation: This is your fault for having feelings.)

• Me: “Actually, I’m hurt because you did [X].”

• Them: [Error 404: Accountability Not Found]

Then there’s the silence. Oh, the heavy, awkward, “if I don’t talk about it, it didn’t happen” silence.

I used to think silence was just a lack of words. I’ve realized now that silence is actually a very loud choice. It’s a way of saying, “Your pain isn’t worth the discomfort I’d feel by acknowledging I messed up.” It’s like watching a house fire and deciding that since you didn’t light the match, you don’t need to call 911—even though you’re holding the garden hose.

The reason this is so exhausting isn’t just the initial hurt. It’s the labor.

When you’re dealing with someone who doesn’t speak the language of accountability, you end up acting as their unpaid translator. You spend hours analyzing their behavior, finding the “perfect” way to phrase your feelings so they don’t get defensive, and essentially doing the emotional push-ups for two people.

It’s draining! I’m a human woman, not a 24-hour emotional repair shop.

I’ve decided I’m done being a polyglot for people who refuse to learn the basics. If I have to give you a PowerPoint presentation on why “don’t lie to me” is a reasonable request, we have a problem.

We deserve people who can look at a mess they made and say, “I see the glass on the floor. I’m sorry I dropped the jar. Let me help you clean it up.” No excuses, no “buts,” and definitely no pretending the jar is still on the shelf.

Have you ever felt like you were speaking a foreign language when trying to get an apology? Tell me your “I can’t believe they said that” stories in the comments—let’s vent together.

When “Good Intentions” Look Like a True Crime Episode

Hey everyone, it’s Tina. Grab a coffee, a blanket, or maybe a glass of wine (make it a large one), because today we are diving deep into the messy, confusing, and sometimes utterly embarrassing world of modern dating and relationships. Today, we need to talk about the “C” word.

No, not that one. Closure.

I’ll just come right out and say it: I have this terrible, burning, downright relentless bad habit of wanting closure from situations. I want answers. I want the final conversation. I want the neat little bow tied on top of the emotional wreckage so I can file it away in my brain and move on.

But here is the universal joke of the century: the exact people who are supposed to give me that closure are always the ones who run for the hills.

We’ve all been there. You hit a bump in the road, things get weird, and instead of having a mature, adult conversation, they just… vanish. They ignore you. And then comes the ultimate modern-day slap in the face: The Block.

Now, a normal person might see a blocked number and think, “Oh, okay, they need space. I should move on.”

Me? My brain immediately shifts into overdrive. The block doesn’t mean “stop,” it means “find another route.”

• The initial reaction: Confusion. Did my message even go through? Is the cell tower down?

• The secondary reaction: Righteous indignation. How dare they? After everything?

• The final boss reaction: Full-blown cyber sleuthing.

Which leads me directly to finding all their information and figuring out alternative ways to reach out to them for that one magical answer that I am convinced will set me free.

Let’s just address the elephant in the room. Yeah, I get it. They didn’t technically hand me their secondary email address, their LinkedIn profile, or their cousin’s best friend’s Instagram handle.

When I’m in the zone, trying to just get that one final sentence out, I turn into an FBI behavioral analyst. I promise you, my intentions and my heart are completely in the right place! I just want peace. I just want mutual understanding.

But I am also self-aware enough to admit that on paper—and probably to them—it comes off completely unhinged. Like, bat-shit crazy, psycho-thriller movie levels of unhinged. The disconnect between my heart saying, “I just want to understand” and my actions looking like, “I will find you,” is a gap I am desperately trying to bridge.

People are always so quick to say, “Tina, just let it go and move on!” But it is never that simple for me.

Having that closure and the final conversation is incredibly important to me because it is about so much more than just “moving on.” It’s about clearing the air so the chapter can be closed for good. If the book is still open, I can’t help but re-read the pages. I don’t want to keep looking back on the past, obsessing over the issue, or dissecting the situation anymore.

I want that final conversation as an adult so we can both move on.

Here is the slightly twisted logic my brain subscribes to: giving me that closure, having that actual final talk, is the one guaranteed way to make me walk away for the rest of my life. If we talk it out, I’m gone. The book is shut. But blocking me? Ignoring me? To me, that actually leaves the door cracked open. It tells my stubborn heart that you aren’t fully ready to close it properly. Just because you blocked me today doesn’t mean you won’t come back tomorrow, especially when there is still so much unfinished business lingering in the air between us. A block feels like a pause, not a period.

Honestly, if you want me to close the chapter for good—instead of relying on this heart of gold that keeps hoping that one day you will change, that one day you will apologize, and that one day you will start respecting me and trusting me so we can have a stable, normal relationship or friendship or something—then you have to talk to me. If you genuinely want me to stop caring, if you want me to stop seeing the good in you and hoping for the best, then give me that one final conversation.

Give me that closure. Give me that communication so I can finally stop, shut my emotions down completely, and move forward without looking back. Sometimes I swear, having a good heart, seeing the good in others, and wanting more is actually a terrible thing, because I always end up being the one hurt more than anyone else.

More than anything, I want that communication so I can finally stop caring. I want to stop coming off as an unhinged, obsessed, crazy, or psycho person who can’t let go. I am so tired of looking like I am desperately chasing someone who is sprinting in the opposite direction.

At the core of it all, I am not trying to harass anyone; all I want is actual accountability, an apology, and some real answers so that everyone involved can just get on with their lives. Is that really too much to ask? Apparently, yes. Because instead of basic human decency, people just choose to ignore me and my messages, leaving me to spiral into the abyss of unanswered questions.

Before I completely roast myself, I have to defend my fellow closure-addicts for a second. Because wanting answers isn’t entirely a toxic trait. There are two sides to this coin.

Why It’s Actually a Good Thing:

• It means you give a damn: We don’t just treat people like disposable coffee cups. When we invest in someone, we actually care about the outcome.

• It shows a desire for accountability: Wanting to talk things out means you value communication. You want to understand where things went wrong so you can fix them, learn from them, and do better next time.

• You have a big heart: The drive to find closure comes from a place of love and respect for the connection you shared. You want to honor what you had by ending it properly.

Why It’s a Terrible, No-Good, Very Bad Thing:

• You give away all your power: This is the hardest part to admit. By demanding closure from someone else, you are effectively handing them the keys to your peace of mind. If they refuse to talk, you stay trapped.

• It actively crosses boundaries: When someone blocks you, that is a boundary. A harsh one, sure, but a boundary nonetheless. Trying to bypass it makes you look like the villain, even if your heart is pure gold.

• It delays your healing: Every time you draft an email they’ll never read, or check their follower count, you are picking the scab off the wound. You think you’re looking for answers, but really, you’re just keeping the ghost of the relationship alive.

Here is a tough pill I’ve had to force myself to swallow lately.

Let’s say you mess up. You’re wrong, you’re in a bad spot, and you send someone a text message essentially tossing out a lifeline, waiting for them to step up. You want them to come save you, or help you, or just show up to prove they care.

When they don’t? That silence is deafening. But more importantly, it is incredibly illuminating.

If you send that vulnerable message and they don’t come to your rescue—if they choose to leave you on read, or worse, hit that block button—that shows you exactly where their mindset is. It shows you exactly how they view you and what their feelings actually are.

If they really did care, they wouldn’t have blocked you. They would have come to rescue you. They would have responded, even if they were mad, instead of just shutting the door entirely. But they didn’t.

Let’s be real for a second: they aren’t going to come back and contact me.

At some point, the lack of an answer is the answer. I have to learn to take the hint once I am blocked on everything. They are done. The curtain has closed, the credits are rolling, and the theater staff is sweeping up the popcorn around my feet while I’m still sitting in the dark, convincing myself that the unfinished business means there’s a sequel coming.

I guess what it boils down to is this: my intentions always mean well. I genuinely care, I want to resolve things, and I have a lot of love to give. I am fiercely loyal and I don’t give up on people easily.

But my delivery? My delivery makes my intentions look completely otherwise.

So, here is to learning, growing, and putting the magnifying glass down. Here is to realizing that closure isn’t something someone else magically hands to you in a perfectly worded apology text; it’s something you have to give yourself. And here is to keeping our hands far, far away from the keyboard when we see that “Message Not Delivered” notification.

We’ve got this. Probably.

Love, Tina

You’re not addicted.

You’re overwhelmed.

And you’ve been coping… not solving.

Fix the direction, not just the habit. 🧠

I hope you’ve followed me, which means we will meet again soon.

Keep Going Keep Growing 🚀

#AddictionAwareness #MentalClarity #PurposeDrivenLife #SelfImprovement #EmotionalHealth

[Addiction Awareness; Mental Clarity; Purpose Driven Life; Self Improvement; Emotional Health]