Highlights ✨

• Cousins on my dad’s side visited from Vancouver and Ottawa for Easter. Their parents were away and they just wanted to spend time with family and it was so nice. We live so far away, but whenever we get back together we’re just like besties that never left. They took me rock climbing for the first time since I was like 7 in the 1900s… Vertical Adventures, anyone?

• I’ve read A LOT. At least a lot for me. Finished almost a fifth of my whole yearly goal in a month.

• My niece gave me kisses for the very first time and I could have passed away. She is such a sweet little angel. My sister and brother-in-law are such incredible parents and I’m so proud of them, and I’m so proud of P, she’s so stinkin’ smart!

• I started planning my Manitoba native wildflower garden, and then, as if on cue, it snowed just the other day… May 5… SNOW! I’d been lying in my grass for 20 minutes about two days before that! Right, this is highlights, so let’s get back to it.

• Went bowling with a large part of my mom’s side of the family for my cousin’s birthday. Hadn’t been in a while, and it turns out I’m better at bowling when I’ve been drinking. My sober self will have to get used to being a bad bowler… something I’m willing to accept for my health.

Challenges 🌧

• Funny that the emoji picked for this section is weather-related, because my biggest challenge (and I’m sure many other Winnipeggers share this) this month is the weather. It snowed two days ago… SNOWED! It’s also been cloudy for what feels like weeks, and I’m solar-powered, so I’ve been feeling very sluggish and tired.

• Ever since the pandemic and the severe health anxiety I dealt with, this time of year my body goes through a kind of trauma remembering, I don’t know if that’s a real term, but that’s what I’m calling it. It’s tied to the first festival post-pandemic: I was going through COVID fatigue, pandemic fatigue, starting to come around from my health anxiety through medication, AND preparing for a festival we hadn’t had in two years. My chest was in a constant state of heaviness. I explained it to my friend, who also happens to be a therapist, like this: my brain knows that I’ve got this and I feel so good and organized for the festival this year, but my body is still remembering 2022.

Lessons 🧠

• Writing takes time and patience, the schedule serves the work, not the other way around.

• Chasing structure can overwhelm the original purpose, joy and intention behind a project.

• The body holds memory, even when the mind has moved forward.

Letting Go Of 🔥

• The self-imposed pressure.

• Trying to fit my creative output into a schedule.

• Guilt about the gap between what the body feels and what the brain knows.

Carrying Forward 🌱

• Protecting “Kettle On” as a free, unscheduled space for journaling and expression.

• The warmth and ease of family connection with my cousins, more firsts with my niece, and simple activities.

• Reading momentum.

• The wildflower garden plans, weather willing.

Intentions for Next Month 🔮

• Be gentle with myself as the work cycle ramps up.

• Write freely before planning anything.

• Get the wildflower garden started once the snow finally cooperates.

• Show up to the festival grounded in how far I’ve come.

The kettle’s on. Pour yourself a cup and join me at the table.

Steeping in This Month ☕️

📚 Reading:

• Watch Me Disappear by Janelle Brown ⭐️⭐️⭐️

• Dear Debbie by Freida McFadden ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

• Don’t Let Him In by Lisa Jewell ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

• The Midnight Library by Matt Haig ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

📺 Watching:

• NHL Playoffs

• Law & Order: SVU on CityTV+

• Law & Order on CityTV+

• Temptation Island on Netflix

• Million Dollar Secret on Netflix

• Love Island: Beyond the Villa on Crave

🎧 Listening:

• Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. by Harry Styles

• “Left / Right” by Roya

• The Great Divide by Noah Kahan

🕹️ Playing:

• Wylde Flowers

Support My Work

Brittany J. L. May is where I think out loud, make things with my hands, and follow curiosities wherever they lead — through letters, creating, wandering, and everything in between.

Subscribe now

If something here has made you pause, feel seen, or linger a little longer than expected, here are a few ways you can help keep this space alive:

💜 Leave a note or tap the heart — it helps this work travel further

💬 Share a favourite line, image, or moment with someone who might need it

🌿 Pass this space along to a friend who loves thoughtful things made slowly

Thank you for spending your time here. Trusting me with your time is an honour.

After it was all out there, I was able to slow down a bit. I took a couple of days off, went to brunch with friends, went with my sister and my niece to the Assiniboine Park Zoo, and let my creative brain breathe again.

Highlights ✨

• Taking my favourite little one to the zoo. My sister and I are very close and I’ve really been enjoying the time I get to spend with her and P. Watching her become a mom has been one of my proudest moments as her big sister.

• We caught up with some family friends. My friend’s partner plays for our local AHL team, the Manitoba Moose, so we all went to a game together. I hadn’t been to an AHL game — let alone a game in our arena — in a while, so it was nice to get back in there cheering on the boys!

• Finishing the final part of my first Aynsley Court serial. I’m really enjoying spending time with these characters — they’re always surprising me; they’re fun and smart. I’m someone who is a serial planner when it comes to creative projects and I lose steam before the doing part. I feel like giving myself permission to be imperfect with it has made me more comfortable with taking the leap to publish.

Challenges 🌧

• I had what I think I’m going to call a hormonal depressie day this past month. I shifted my day because I had a late work meeting, but I could not shake my funk in the morning. Might have been my period, might have been that I forgot to take my meds the day before. I did a workout that was… fine, fed myself some fruit, but when I did make it to the office, my friends there brightened the day — and when I eventually made it home to my love, my day was all turned around. It wasn’t anything specific; sometimes those moods just creep up on us.

Lessons 🧠

• Write the WHOLE PIECE before publishing in sections. Writing what I now know is a "novelette" was fun, but I think if I had just flowed with it right to the end before polishing and publishing, it would have been a smoother ride.

Letting Go Of 🔥

• The Manosphere — watched that fun little insight into some pea-brained heads. Made me angry, obviously, but I'm finding comfort in the fact that I don't surround myself with those kinds of men… except for my cousin's wrestling persona.

Carrying Forward 🌱

• Being grateful for the people I keep close — family, friends, etc.

• Keep writing even when I feel like I don’t have anything to say.

Intentions for Next Month 🔮

• Figuring out a better organization system, which seemed to be the trigger for my depressie day.

• Be gentle.

The kettle’s on. Pour yourself a cup and join me at the table.

Steeping in This Month ☕️

📚 Reading:

• The Surrogate Mother by Frieda McFadden ⭐️⭐️

• Daughters of the Deer by Danielle Daniel ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

• The Wrong Family by Tarryn Fisher ⭐️⭐️⭐️

📺 Watching:

• Scarpetta on Prime

• The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives on Disney+

• The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair on Prime

• The Age of Attraction on Netflix

• Love Overboard on Disney+

🎧 Listening:

• “Half Blood” by Cassidy Mann

• Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. by Harry Styles

• “Porch Light” by Noah Kahan

Published This Month 💻

Brittany J. L. May

Aynsley Court Mysteries

Aynsley Court Mysteries

Aynsley Court Remains – Part III

CONTENT WARNING…

Read more

2 months ago · 1 like · Brittany May

Aynsley Court Mysteries

Aynsley Court Remains – Part IV

CONTENT WARNING…

Read more

a month ago · Brittany May

Midnights in Apartment #3

Midnights in Apartment #3

The Women Who Raised Me

Read more

2 months ago · 3 likes · Brittany May

Support My Work

Brittany J. L. May is where I think out loud, make things with my hands, and follow curiosities wherever they lead — through letters, creating, wandering, and everything in between.

Subscribe now

If something here has made you pause, feel seen, or linger a little longer than expected, here are a few ways you can help keep this space alive:

💜 Leave a note or tap the heart — it helps this work travel further

💬 Share a favourite line, image, or moment with someone who might need it

🌿 Pass this space along to a friend who loves thoughtful things made slowly

Thank you for spending your time here. Trusting me with your time is an honour.

If January was steady, February was… not. This was the month of one year sober. Six years with my partner. Seven months of watching my niece discover the world — and start crawling! And in between all of that: civic action, injury, sickness, and early mornings watching the Olympics like it was a national ritual.

The kettle’s been on all month.

February was about standing in the life I’ve built.

Highlights ✨

February marks one year of sobriety. I don’t think I’ve committed to anything for an entire year quite like this before. It has made my days brighter, my evenings more enjoyable, and my relationships stronger. I dedicated a whole post to it earlier this week that summarizes my relationship with alcohol throughout my life.

Long story short, sobriety allowed me to get up early to watch my niece at swimming, to cheer on Team Canada in the mornings, and to have the emotional capacity to be the caregiver I needed to be this month.

I celebrated six years with my partner. It feels equal parts like we’ve been together forever and like it was just yesterday. Our ability to talk about everything and nothing still amazes me. His ability to make me feel calm and confident — in myself and in us — is a comfort I’ve never had before. We somehow make even the most ordinary nights feel fun.

We faced (and won) political discourse in my city this month. The Winnipeg government brought forward the “Safe Access to Vulnerable Infrastructure Bylaw #7,” a law that infringes on freedom of thought, belief, opinion, expression, and peaceful assembly under the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. In a moment when rights and freedoms are being trampled just below our border, getting this bylaw tabled felt like a significant win. We’ll need to stay vigilant — it sounds like it may return in another form.

The Olympics felt more important than ever this year. While facing so much hostility from supposed allies, coming together as a nation over sport felt grounding. As the Games came to a close, hockey overshadowed everything — still Canada’s game. It didn’t end how we wanted, but I could not be more proud of both our teams who gave their all on the ice.

My niece hit seven months of brightening our lives. Things she’s taught me include: babies pick up on everything you do, they change incredibly quickly, and gagging doesn’t necessarily mean choking (auntie learned that the hard way and cried out of sheer panic). I’ve thought a lot about the kind of role model I want to be for her. I want to be the auntie who encourages her to chase whatever she wants. The one she comes to when she succeeds — or fails. The one who spoils her rotten with love and makes her laugh uncontrollably. More than anything, I want to be a safe place for her.

Challenges 🌧

We had to slow way down in our house this month. Between a back injury and a second cold in as many months, we had no choice but to rest and take care of each other. I learned how exhausting caregiving can be — but what buoyed me was love. I just wanted us back at 100%, and if we couldn’t be at 100%, then at least as comfortable as possible until we got there.

We had family and friends stop by with food and support, and it reminded me how fortunate we are.

Lessons 🧠

• I am capable of long-term change.

• Love grows when you show up for each other.

• I don’t have to burn out to prove anything to anyone.

• Being present is the best you can do for yourself and the people you love.

Letting Go Of 🔥

• The version of me who thought she needed alcohol to cope.

• The idea that rest must be earned.

• (And hopefully) sickness — we’ve had enough.

• Pettiness I’m still carrying from the Olympics.

Carrying Forward 🌱

• Caring for my body.

• Pride in my sobriety.

• Continued creativity.

• Being present.

Intentions for Next Month 🔮

• Finish the final two parts of Aynsley Court Remains.

• Build my energy and strength back up with regular workouts.

• Keep writing in this incredible space I’ve created.

• Return to reading more Substack short stories.

The kettle’s on. Pour yourself a cup and join me at the table.

Steeping in This Month ☕️

📚 Reading:

• A Killing Cold — Kate Alice Marshall

• Daughters of the Deer — Danielle Daniels

• The Surrogate Mother — Freida McFadden

📺 Watching:

• Milano Cortina 2026

• Love Island: All Stars

• The Traitors: US

• Love is Blind

🎧 Listening:

• luck… or something — Hilary Duff

• Lemonade — Beyoncé

🕹️ Playing:

• Fabledom

Published This Month 💻

Brittany J. L. May

• Kettle On: January 2026

• The Pages of My Life

• Searching for Belonging at the Bottom of a Bottle

Aynsley Court Mysteries💻

• Aynsley Court Remains - Part II: The Quieting

Midnights in Apartment #3

• Always

Support My Work

Brittany J. L. May is where I think out loud, make things with my hands, and follow curiosities wherever they lead — through letters, creating, wandering, and everything in between.

Subscribe now

If something here has made you pause, feel seen, or linger a little longer than expected, here are a few ways you can help keep this space alive:

💜 Leave a note or tap the heart — it helps this work travel further

💬 Share a favourite line, image, or moment with someone who might need it

🌿 Pass this space along to a friend who loves thoughtful things made slowly

Thank you for spending your time here. Trusting me with your time is an honour.

In grade 7, my best friend for my whole life up to that point started drinking to fit in with some new friends we’d met at our new school. It happened at one of these new girls’ birthday parties—we were 12, and she had an older sister—I think between 14 and 16. A bottle of vodka began getting passed around with an orange juice chaser. I didn’t want any part of it, so I removed myself and went to another room alone.

It was the first time I remember choosing myself over belonging.

Coming home the next morning from the sleepover, I was extremely conflicted. I felt the weight of it and wanted to tell someone but I didn’t want to rat out my friends. After about a week, I ended up tearfully coming clean to my mom about it all. Eventually, those new “friends” cut me out. With that, I lost a 12-year friendship and all the friends I had at school.

I chose myself, and it cost me.

From that point on, my high school story didn’t include alcohol. Luckily, I had my friends from dance who helped bridge the gap while I found new friends at school. I fell in with a new group of friends, and they didn’t care much that I didn’t drink—it was no longer a prerequisite to friendship.

My 18th birthday was the first time I’d ever been drunk. After years of being on the outside looking in, drinking became a part of my life.

Somewhere along the way, fitting in started to matter more than choosing myself.

After high school, I started hanging out with a group of people I knew from work. I was working hard to be “the cool girl” who could keep up with the guys. I was known as “the loud drunk girl”—a label I wore proudly at the time. I felt included—fitting in with the older friends I looked up to.

I wasn’t choosing myself anymore. I was choosing approval.

My first relationship sprouted from this group and these alcohol fuelled nights and lasted through my early 20s.

I spent those years babysitting a heavy drinker, only properly joining in when I wasn’t trying to figure out how to get us home safely after a night out.

That time was also spent reinforcing the choice of belonging. Continually choosing someone else who was never choosing me.

The breakup came. I held onto my childhood and college friends. I slowly let the work friends and my first relationship go, and with that, the try-hard “cool girl” bullshit. This was the first step in choosing myself again.

You would have thought my past relationship would turn me off alcohol, but after it ended, I saw it as my opportunity to have the fun. I was very much a social drinker at this time, and it stayed that way for a good while—which I think was working okay.

Fast forward to the pandemic, where I think most of us were regularly finding the bottom of the bottle. And then, after we were out, it didn’t really quit for me. I wasn’t yet living with my partner, so I was at home on my own most weeknights, and boredom always won.

It became my way of entertaining myself. I liked the way it made me feel in the moment. Then I’d wake up hungover, go to work grumpy, and some days, back-to-back, I’d cycle and do it again.

For the most part, it was only about two times a week I was doing this to my body. I was definitely not an everyday drinker, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t a problem drinker—because I was. I know if I started up again tomorrow, I would fall right back into the trap.

Eventually, the cycle became something that was impossible to ignore. I was being difficult at work. I was picking fights with people I cared about. I wasn’t showing up for friends and family the way I wanted to. I was trapped in a loop and I couldn’t get out.

I told a friend of mine—who at the time was 15 years sober herself (more now as I write this)—that I was drowning, and she used her knowledge and experience to help me. I will always be grateful for that tea-filled, tearful chat. From that conversation, I opened up to more people in my life and started talking about it online.

If I didn’t talk about it out loud, it wasn’t a problem. When I actually started talking about it, it became real.

I fell off quite a few more times after those tough conversations, but I kept coming back to it. I had people to be accountable to.

There wasn’t a dramatic rock bottom. Alcoholism is more insidious than that. I didn’t like who I was becoming, and the last time that happened, it took me too long to find myself again. That scared me more than quitting ever did.

At 12, I chose myself over a bottle of vodka and lost everything I thought was important. Somewhere between then and now, I forgot I could do that.

And so, a year ago, I stopped drinking.

The first few months were uncomfortable. I had to relearn how to sit with boredom instead of trying to conquer it. I picked up journalling again to get my feelings out instead of just drowning them. I had to learn how to say no to drinks—and how not to over-explain why. It wasn’t impossible, but it was deeply uncomfortable.

Every time I fell, I asked myself why I was doing this, and why I wanted it to end so I wrote them down. On my harder days, I kept coming back to my why:

1. I want to be fully present in my life.

2. I don’t want to cause harm to myself or others.

3. I want to be the best partner I can be.

4. I want to be healthy for my future children.

5. I want to be a person people can count on.

The biggest win, I’d say even to this day a year later, is the time I’ve taken back. I get up earlier and see the sun rise. I spend time writing. I have space to see my friends. I didn’t realize how much energy I was spending on recovery—not just from hangovers, but from the emotional weight of drinking and regret.

Sobriety hasn’t been a magic fix, but that’s actually not the point. Being sober allows me to face all that’s uncomfortable about life head-on, without the crutch of alcohol. When I’m feeling overwhelmed, I know why. When I’m tired, I rest. When I’m bored, I sit with it—or I find something that fills me up.

I also learned that I don’t need to prove myself, period. All along this journey I didn’t shed all my friends, just the ones who wanted me to be someone else. The people who matter stayed. The rest faded, and that is actually okay.

Funny part is, something that was a big part of my social life for over 15 years, I don’t miss at all. I’ll feel myself getting nostalgic for the ease of it, but it’s quickly contrasted with the aftermath—the morning after—and I get prickly again. I do not miss the cycle and self-loathing, not one bit.

One year sober feels like only the beginning—a foundation to build on and protect.

I don’t know what the next year will bring. I just know that I don’t need alcohol to belong—to others or to myself.

🧰 My Sobriety Tool Kit

I didn’t do any of this alone, and below I’ve included some tips and resources that helped me make it through the mess. It’s not an unstoppable formula, but these things definitely made the year steadier.

📖 This Naked Mind

This book by Annie Grace changed my whole perspective on alcohol in just over 250 pages. Technically less, since I stopped drinking about halfway through. It allowed me to see alcohol as a poison, not as something that was enhancing my life in any way.

🎧 Sober Awkward

It’s truly an honest, funny, and relatable take on navigating sobriety. Realizing that what I was going through was very normal helped ease my anxieties. It also explored spaces I hadn’t yet put words to.

✍️ Journalling

Sitting with my emotions and calling them out on paper really helped. Even before I completely stopped drinking, I can see myself pleading for change in the pages of my journal. People are only now talking more about all the emotions you have to sit with when you’re working on sobriety. There’s no more drinking the stress or sadness away—you have to relearn how to regulate your emotions, and journalling has always helped me with that.

☀️ Morning Time

I come from a long line of early risers. Often when my whole family (and I mean my whole 25+ squad) is up at the cabin, I’ll wake up early-ish and my mom is already up having her morning tea with her four siblings and my nanny, chatting and laughing. I always thought there was something so special about that, and as I stopped drinking, I realized my body has naturally shifted to early mornings. It’s given me peace to start the day, and let me tell you—nothing feels better than waking up without regret.

📱 Accountability

A handful of people who knew what I was trying to do. Saying it out loud made it real. Like I mentioned, having people in your corner that you care about and don’t want to disappoint is key. On top of that, the people who are going to cheer for you through it all—the 365-day milestones, but also the one-week milestones.

The two friends I asked to be in my corner during a particularly busy time at the beginning of this journey have celebrated me the whole way and are treating me to lunch tomorrow in celebration of my one year sober. Those are the kind of friends you keep around.

I hope this helps even one person on their own journey of sobriety. It may feel impossible, but it isn’t—and you’re worth every attempt.

💭 Pages catching the thoughts I was too scared to say out loud.

🤫 A home for secrets too shy to share.

💜 A place to capture memories of my beautiful life lived.

That girl never really stopped writing—she just grew into different notebooks.

I currently have four active journals. A single journal just can’t contain me. One catches memories, one plans the future, one holds the art of life, and one holds gratitude for it all.

Free Write Journal – The unfiltered one.

These are the pages where my hopes, dreams, and anxieties spill out. If I’m being honest, this is mostly where anger and frustration live, which is why I’ve been neglecting it—and why I’m trying to change that. I love that it’s a place where I can vent, but I also want it to hold my best memories and the most beautiful parts of my life.

I hope one day my children—maybe even my grandchildren—can lose themselves in these pages and feel proud of who I was and the life I lived.

The 5-Minute Journal – The steadying one.

Here lives my five minutes of peace at the start and end of each day. It’s a simple book you can pick up at Chapters (here in Canada), and each day begins with a quote and the same gentle prompts.

Morning ☀️

• I am grateful for…

• What would make today great?

• Daily Affirmation

Evening 🌙

• Highlights of the Day

• What did I learn today?

This simple formula creates space for positivity first thing in the morning and a memory catch at the end of the day—always bringing it back to something good. That’s why I enjoy this daily practice so much.

Quaintrelle Journal – The romantic one.

This one is different. It holds words not as they happen, but after they’ve been reflected on, steeped in time, and edited with a healed heart. It’s soft. Often broken. Spontaneous.

It holds my prose poems—little bites of self-reflection that I hope to one day publish under the title Midnights in Apartment #3. This journal doesn’t exist to fix anything; it merely witnesses the broken parts and lets them breathe.

Bullet Journal – The anchoring one.

This book holds all of my to-dos—my daily bible, if you will. Lists. Events. Calendars. Reminders.

If you’re looking for a flexible and/or more creative way to plan your life, I recommend looking into bullet journalling. A Bullet Journal is a paper-based personal organization method developed by Ryder Carroll. If you’re more disciplined than I am, you could likely fit all the journal types I’ve mentioned here into one.

Mine holds the logistics so my creativity can overflow between other covers.

I don’t have one journal because I am not one thing. That’s evident here on this blog. I’m my roots, my creativity, my mental health, my travels.

I am a planner, but I am also chaos.

I am grateful, but I am also grieving.

I am helpless, but I am also a healer.

I am a writer, but I am also the muse.

I am all of these things between different covers. Each journal holds a version of me. None of them are performance—because the only one I have to show up for is me.

I chose Kettle On because I’ve been reflecting on my great-grandma Joe, as you may have seen in my “Create” section the other day. I have a tea set of hers that sits in my china cabinet, and I can’t help but think of all the stories and knowledge that passed over top of it at the kitchen table. Kettle On gives that same cozy, invitational vibe, but without tethering me to a strict schedule.

For now, I’d like to post on the first day of the new month—reflecting on the past one and setting intentions for the next. So, here goes.

In spite of January plunging us Winnipeggers into a deep freeze right after Mother Nature teased us with spring-like weather, my mood didn’t crash along with the temperature.

That said, my mood did dip with the ongoing news of the abhorrent actions of ICE and the current administration in the United States. Treating other human beings this way is achingly unjust and horrific—and if that’s the “freedom” the Star-Spangled Banner refers to, I want no part of it.

So how have I been coping?

Continuing sobriety. Bringing bullet journalling back into my life. Regular journal reflections. Vision boarding. And lots and lots of art. Writing to escape reality. Digital art to create beauty. Beadwork to bring me back to patience.

Highlights ✨

With less time spent scrolling, I became more creative. I put pen to paper—er, fingers to keyboard—and wrote two parts of my first Aynsley Court short story titled, “Aynsley Court Remains”. Somewhere in the shower between shampooing and conditioning, I also landed on a meaningful way to celebrate my ancestors, “The Matriarch” became the first piece in that series.

Our new home levelled up its cozy factor with a cuddle chair for the sunroom and curtains for our bedroom. Little touches go a long way. The cuddle chair has become my primary writing spot since it arrived.

On January 24, I celebrated 11 months sober and began writing my one-year reflection. It didn’t come easily at all, which makes it feel even more meaningful to be this close.

Challenges 🌧

Feeling like we’re living in end-times energy. Whether it’s the threat of being conquered by a country meant to be our ally, or increasingly extreme weather patterns as a direct result of climate change—it’s heavy to carry.

Organizing myself for a new year. I used to be fully committed to the bullet journal, then drifted into a Notion + Cyberry Planner era (shoutout to K. Digital Studio). I think—hope—I’ve finally landed on a combination of Notion and paper that works for me.

Showing up more when it comes to caring for our home. Living with my partner has been incredible. The difference now is that I’m not just showing up for myself (and only when I feel like it)—I’m showing up for us. He does a lot around the house, and it’s important that I meet that care with intention.

Lessons 🧠

Creating is medicine. Good friends celebrate you and your accomplishments. Even small connections make a difference.

Letting Go Of 🔥

Self-blame. Showing up on a schedule. Hustle.

Carrying Forward 🌱

In February, I want to carry forward no-pressure creativity. It makes me a better artist, and less time on social media has helped me loosen my grip on hustle culture.

Making a more conscious effort to connect with the people I love—regularly, intentionally.

A weekly Sunday morning writing ritual. It might be a journal or something I feel moved to write here but I want to keep writing.

Intentions for Next Month 🔮

Keep up my 5-Minute Journal daily. I use The 5-Minute Journal and it’s just a nice and simple way to start and end my day.

Finish the final two parts of Aynsley Court Remains. As I mentioned in a recent note, I’m feeling the heaviness of the world I created but I’m excited to get to the final part and explore new Aynsley Court stories.

Read two books. I’ve always felt comforted by my nightly reading routine and I love to see my yearly book stack grow!

We’re all just hanging in there. You’re not alone—and if it feels like you are, you can always message me.

The kettle’s on. Pour yourself a cup and join me at the table.

Steeping in This Month ☕️

📚 Reading: One by One — Freida McFadden
📺 Watching: Tell Me Lies
🎧 Listening: SWAG II — Justin Bieber
🕹️ Playing: Animal Crossing New Horizons

Published This Month 💻

Brittany J. L. May

• A Place for Broken Words

• A Return to Creative Writing

• Tapitow (steady)

• 2026 Intentions

• The Matriarch

Aynsely Court Mysteries

• Welcome to Aynsley Court

• Aynsley Court Remains - Part I: The Gathering

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Brittany J. L. May is where I think out loud, make things with my hands, and follow curiosities wherever they lead — through letters, creating, wandering, and everything in between.

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"My people will sleep for one hundred years, but when they awake, it will be the artists who give them their spirit back." — Louis Riel

I never knew my great-grandmother, Alma Marie Parisien (née Normand), known to her grandkids as Grandma Joe. She died just eight months before I was born, but my mom was able to tell her I was coming before she passed.

When I showed my mom the beginnings of this piece, I told her I fell in love with this photo of Grandma Joe the moment I saw it. She looks so sure of herself—steady, powerful, unmovable. My mom laughed and said, “She was small, but you did not mess with her.” She loved watching pro wrestling, something my cousin is now carving out a name for himself in across Manitoba.

As I reconnect, I want to bring my ancestors with me, not as ghosts but as guides. I centred my grandmother and let Métis florals bloom behind her like wings—holding her up, holding her family up too.

It’s a ritual that I’ve continued annually, even through the pandemic—probably even more needed then.

For the most part, I do share them on my Instagram with friends, but since I’ve found this space, I thought I would try to share them here this year.

One gentle alteration I made this year was to switch the term “goals” to “intentions.” Intentions is inherently gentler and, I think, serves the purpose better.

Before I get into reviewing 2025 and then sharing for 2026, I just wanted to pause.

The world we’re living in currently is frightening. Whether you’re on the ground in a war zone in Ukraine or Gaza—and yes, I’m including Minneapolis—or facing the looming threat of domination by a tiny orange man, or you’re struggling to make ends meet, the world is a scary place. It’s exhausting, the news is relentless, and the hatred is everywhere you turn.

I felt I couldn’t move forward without acknowledging that first, especially on the heels of the broad-daylight execution of Alex Pretti yesterday, only weeks after Renee Good. I live in Winnipeg, Manitoba, which is only about eight hours from Minneapolis, so it’s hitting very close to home.

We do have to remember to take a step back to take care of ourselves, though, because we can’t fight if we’re broken.

2025 Reflection

Work on my overall self care.

Having tackled my biggest personal health hurdle this year by exploring sobriety, I feel like I accomplished this in a BIG way (see next).

Explore sobriety.

As I write this post, I am 11 months sober. Before actually sticking with my sober journey for about two years, I kept asking myself if I had a drinking problem. Now I know that if you’re asking that question, you already know the answer.

Two resources I will share are This Naked Mind: Control Alcohol by Annie Grace and the I Am Sober app.

This Naked Mind allowed me to better understand addiction and the “why.” I was worried it wouldn’t hold my attention, but I was very wrong. I read about a chapter each night before bed; the research was incredibly enlightening and shared in a very interesting and digestible way.

I Am Sober has triggered that dopamine reward part of my brain. Even now, at almost a year sober, seeing those numbers climb feels really good. There are bigger milestones along the way that you receive badges for, and there is also a great spot for you to reflect on and remind yourself why you are on this journey.

Buy a house with my love.

My partner and I really only started looking in the spring, and the week before Winnipeg Folk Festival (the organization I work for), we looked at a home that we both fell in love with. I then went into 12+ hour days for the weekend, Thursday to Sunday, and on Monday offers were due. In post-festival delirium, we put in an offer and the rest was history.

I sold my condo in August, and we moved into our forever home mid-September. We have lots of friends close by and can’t wait for the first signs of spring to start enjoying our outdoor space again.

Have a more regular fitness routine.

With some big life changes happening in 2025, I feel like I haven’t got back to where I want to be with my movement.

Since I got an Apple Watch in 2020 to encourage movement during the pandemic, I’ve subscribed yearly to Fitness+. I love Fitness+ because not only do they have a coaching team that is diverse in background and body type, but they also offer modified movement for all of their workouts. When I’m trying to get back into it, the modified movement is where I live.

Get an ADHD assessment.

This is something that a dear friend of mine brought to my attention, and my therapist (who can’t diagnose me) said I should look into.

It’s definitely something I’m still exploring, but as of right now it’s not interfering with my day to day, which makes me think I’m likely lower on the spectrum. It’s totally something I’m keen to keep learning about, just in general but also how it may apply to me.

Write 10,000 words for my book.

Not quite in 2025, but my 2026 intentions are already helping to move the needle here.

Keep up with therapy.

I truly think that everyone can benefit from regular therapy, but it’s something that is so inaccessible, even here in Canada. I think it should be built into our healthcare systems because when our minds aren’t right, our bodies suffer too.

I’m always afraid to use up my benefits early in case I need them in the future for something that actually needs fixing. So, I save them and haven’t gone to therapy once this year—but the good news is that I haven’t felt a great need for it.

Read 25 books for 2025.

Accomplished. This is probably the only truly measurable goal I create for myself because reading has always been an escape for me—a way to reset a bad day or unwind from a good day. Something I did do differently this year was listen to two audiobooks to complete the goal, and both of those were Indigenous stories that, to me, feel more natural as a verbal format anyway.

Some standouts for me were This Naked Mind: Control Alcohol by Annie Grace, Mindful of Murder by Susan Juby, and Five Little Indians by Michelle Good.

Plan “me” days.

I’ve been working at this one for a couple years now, and I think I’m dropping it from the list because a whole day just doesn’t work for me, I don’t think—but finding pockets of “me time” does.

Stay in the moment.

This has been greatly benefited by my sobriety; it’s allowed me to better listen to myself and connect with the people I love. I think a large part of why I was disconnecting from friends mostly was because I was either hungover or exhausted from being hungover and in a constant cycle of mood swings and exhaustion. Not drinking has allowed me to show up more.

2026 Intentions

Live more analog.

I want to be much more intentional with my time this year. My mind gets very excited about digital organization, and I did my best to be a digital planner with Notion and the Cyberry Planner by K Digital Studio, but I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that it doesn’t completely work for me. I continue to use Notion as my catch-all task database for the year, but when it comes to day to day, I’m sticking with real paper and a real pen.

Back to my four notebook system: a free-write journal, The Five Minute Journal, my Leuchtturm1917 Bullet Journal, with a small Moleskine notebook for finance tracking.

I’ve also moved all social media from my phone to my iPad, cutting my screen time nearly in half each week since I started at the beginning of January. This feels huge for me.

Write on Substack at least once a month.

Here I am writing for the fourth time this month. This place feels like the best of social media and blogging combined. Plus, it’s just a bunch of us nerds sharing our thoughts and feelings while leaning on one another. It’s truly beautiful.

Meditate more regularly.

I want this for myself, even if it’s just five minutes a day. That mental rest and reset is so important, especially for the times we’re in right now.

Set better work boundaries.

I don’t want to take that shit home, no matter how much I care about it. My time is my time.

Lay foundations for starting our family.

I’ve always wanted to be a mom, and now that we have our little slice of paradise, I want to fill it with all kinds of love.

Continue my sober journey.

Binge-drinking dreams be damned, I will continue to work at this every day. I barely think about it anymore, which is the best part. This time last year, drinking seemed to be the only thing I thought about, and I’m so glad that’s changed.

Make art because I want to.

I think sharing my art on Instagram made it feel like more of a hustle, and because I’ve found this space and I’m starting fresh, I can do this on my terms—no schedule, no due dates. And if I do set them, knowing I’m allowed to change them is important.

Move my body with kindness.

Just showing up for myself is going to be the most important part as I journey back into fitness again. Just show up. That’s the goal.

Deepen my connections.

Grateful that I came back to my people last year, but this year making sure I show up even more is going to be important.

Rest when my body tells me to.

As someone who is constantly creating, rest is hard. New ideas spark everywhere for me (just the other day in the shower), so allowing myself to just focus on a show or just read a book is how I’m going to show up for myself in 2026.

I hope we can all be gentle with ourselves and show up for one another.

Hi all, my name is Brittany J. L. May, I’ve worked as a communicator and marketer in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada for 12 years now. The last eight I’ve spent in the music industry. My work is heavily tied to social media, and coming up in a time when Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter were all new frontiers excited me—it still does—but the landscape has changed.

Personally, I’ve been trying to distance myself from social media for a couple of years now. I find it’s getting more and more saturated with ads you never wanted and suggested posts from accounts you never consented to follow. I’m tired.

Over the holidays, I removed Instagram and Facebook from my phone. I now only access them on my iPad or through a web browser. Ever since, I’ve turned that scroll time into writing time, and I can breathe again.

The last time I wrote a piece of creative fiction that I was proud of would have been in college, almost 15 years ago now. I’ve always been a writer; storytelling runs in my family, with authors on my dad’s side and verbal storytellers on my mom’s—it’s in my blood. But it’s scary, and vulnerable, and exposing.

For years I’ve been wrestling with ideas scattered in notebooks, outlines in Notion, and character sketches unfinished in Procreate. I’ve been procrastinating. That’s where Substack comes in. I created mine a few years ago, it was a place I owned but never inhabited. When I returned this time, creativity sparked and excitement set in.

This space is full of artists sharing their weird little short stories from their corner of the internet, and it’s beautiful. It feels like a place where I don’t have to be perfect, where I can falter but my fellow writers will catch me. All I see on here is support, admiration, and suggestions for growth—it’s safe.

With that, I would like to welcome you all to Aynsley Court. This space comes from my deep love of mysteries and historical fiction. Aynsley Court is named after the building a dear friend and I rented our first apartment in together, and I’ve always loved the name.

The long game is to write a full series, but instead of procrastinating with character sketches and outlines, this is my sandbox. For now, this space will hold short stories—almost like prequel material—that will help me world-build and get to know my characters.

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This is an exploratory and ever-evolving space. I ask for grace to be imperfect and to create on my own timeline, not a schedule.

I’m so excited to be here and to share my world and my words with so many other talented writers. I invite you all to join me at Aynsley Court and indulge in all the delicious secrets it has to tell.

If you’re subscribed (if not, link below), the first letter from Aynsley Court will land in your mailboxes on January 18th, and it’s part one of a four-part story to get everyone familiar with the building.

See you inside,
Brittany J. L. May

Join Me at Aynsley Court

For so long I’ve looked for a place to hold my broken words, a journal where I can express myself to strangers who can relate.

I’ve settled for Instagram but it’s a space that’s feeling less and less authentic and more out of touch with what I actually care about, so I find myself here, speaking to a void hoping something rings true for someone.

I’ve experienced an abusive relationship, fought generalized and major health anxiety, and recently began my sober journey. The things that have kept me steady through it all have been my mind, my hands, my feet, and my heart.

Mind: anxious but logical.

Though my mind can be riddled with anxiety at times, it is quite logical. I’ve been lucky with this quality because my brain has always known what was best for my body, even in my darkest hours. I have always been able to pinpoint what I need to do to feel better, but had to wait for the rest of my body to catch up.

Hands: busy but creative.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a creator, from macaroni art on my parents’ fridge to thousands of beads hand-stitched into a vest for my uncle to celebrate our Métis roots. Creating balances me, it humbles me, and it’s often the medicine I need.

Feet: moving but grounded.

I’ve solo-travelled and I’ve hibernated like a bear, I try to enjoy being where I am. Sometimes that’s outside my comfort zone taking off halfway around the world with nothing but a passport and a couple bags and other times it’s home with my person.

Heart: broken but whole.

I wouldn’t be where I am today without every single human who has held my heart with love and care and even those who didn’t. Folks will come and go in our lives, the key is to recognize the ones that stay and love them back.

This is what keeps me steady, what I return to when life gets too loud.

This is largely what I write about, healing, mental health, ramblings, stories, I’m trying to be okay with revealing the unpolished and this feels like a safe space for that.

So, feel free to like, share, repost, or don’t, I’ll still be here writing.

On day one we landed at 3:00 PM and got a ride with Benjamin from Yonkers. He gave us a tour and some history as he took us to the hotel. We settled in and then wandered over to Blue Note to see Tank and the Bangas. It was jam-packed, and they were absolutely incredible. Their latest album is nominated for a Grammy for Best Global Music Performance.

Day two was a HUGE. DAY. The dogs are TIRED. We started with breakfast at a spot close by, wandered around, and stumbled upon the Friends apartment.

Then I took my first subway trip to Central Park (with Terry, but he’s a pro). Central Park wasn’t a place I really got to see last time I was here (2004), so I was very excited to explore.

Popped back to the hotel to freshen up, then grabbed a New York slice at Lucia. We hit Times Square on the way to see the longest-running Broadway play… CHICAGO!!!

It was honestly so incredible, soaking in every moment!

Started day three with some shopping, then made our way to the INSANE Katz’s Deli. If you’re ever in NYC… GO!

Hit up The Friends Experience and got to see the set of a show we both love. Saw a bit of the Veterans Day parade before making our way to Grand Central Station.

Went up 91 floors to SUMMIT One Vanderbilt for an absolutely stunning view. Stayed until dark. It was… Incredible.

Wandered around Bryant Park for some Christmas shopping before heading to L’Artusi. Terry worked hard to make sure we got a reso, and it. was. WORTH IT!

Called it an earlier night and went back to the hotel to watch Friends.

On the last day we started with a delicious brunch at Bubby’s in Tribeca. T got a flight of pancakes, and I went for a classic breakfast. We shared a bit, and it was spectacular!

Afterward, we wandered around Brooklyn, exploring DUMBO before walking across the historic Brooklyn Bridge.

We made our way to the Financial District to check out the Oculus and the Freedom Tower.

Then it was back to the hotel to prep for the big game! We headed to MSG and got fired up immediately upon seeing so many Jets fans! A bunch of us went down to ice level for warm-up, and then we absolutely CRUSHED it! Took the subway home with some sad Sallys.

GO JETS GO, 15-1-0.

Content Warning:
This essay contains discussions of severe anxiety, panic, health anxiety, emotional distress, and mental health challenges. Reader discretion is advised.

How do you live when you think you’re dying? A question I had to face for months during a dark time earlier this year.

I’ve dealt with health anxiety on and off before, but it usually passed quickly. That changed after my parents and I got COVID in early March, and my mind spiraled.

For most of that month, I cried almost every day. I cried in the bathroom at work, when my mom picked me up, and whenever I was alone. Every little sensation in my body felt like a sign of something catastrophic. Heart palpitations? Must be heart problems. Lower back or abdominal pain? Ovarian cancer. Persistent tension headaches? Clearly a brain tumour. The only time I felt any relief was when I was asleep, and even then, it felt like I was escaping, not resting. I was utterly exhausted. I went through the motions at work, barely eating, living just to make it to the end of the day so I could collapse into bed.

It was obvious to those around me that something was wrong. I snapped at people, later apologizing for my irritability, but deep down, I knew this wasn’t sustainable. I was spiraling, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

Anxiety has been a part of my life for a long time, but I’ve always been able to pull myself out of it. This time, though, I was stuck, completely helpless. I was already doing everything I could to manage it, but it was like a heavy, unrelenting cloud hung over me. No amount of yoga, journaling, or deep breathing seemed to make a difference.

How I Normally Cope:

• Yoga

• Deep breathing and meditation

• Journaling

• Physical activity

• Routine

• Healthy eating

• Getting enough sleep

Extra Steps I Had to Take:

I moved back in with my parents, and the relief of not having to be alone, or worry about what I was going to eat, was immense. It was one less burden to carry.

I scheduled another session with my therapist. In that session, she reassured me that I wasn’t going crazy and that what I was experiencing, while terrifying, was valid. Sometimes, just hearing those words can make all the difference.

I also reached out to ADAM and joined a support group. The six-week program connected me with four others who were also struggling with anxiety, and those conversations turned out to be some of the most meaningful I’ve ever had. There’s a sense of understanding that only comes from people who’ve been in the trenches too.

Finally, I made a doctor’s appointment to discuss medication. My doctor was incredible. She didn’t just hand me a prescription, she took my concerns seriously. She ordered blood work, an EKG, a pelvic exam, and an ultrasound to make sure there were no underlying issues. When she did prescribe the medication, the relief I felt was indescribable. For the first time in months, the weight began to lift.

I’m not dying. I can finally breathe again, smile again, and live again.

This experience has taught me a lot about the strength it takes to ask for help. Sometimes, even with all the right coping tools in place, we need more support than we think, and that’s okay. It’s okay to lean on others, to reach out, and to recognize that some storms require more than just riding them out.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that healing isn’t linear. Some days are better than others, but even on the harder days, there’s hope. I’m not where I was a few months ago, and that alone is a victory. Life is starting to feel possible again. And for that, I am endlessly grateful.

I miss her laugh, the kind that touches the lines around her eyes.
I miss her love, the kind she extends to everyone around her.
I miss her positivity, the kind she exudes as she splashes through every storm.
I miss her energy, the kind that allows her to jump in on anything.
I miss her eyes, the kind that shine bright blue and full of life.

I miss her, but she will come back.

Her laugh will touch ears again.
Her love will be shared again.
Her positivity will swirl through the room again.
Her energy will last the week again.
Her eyes will spark with life again.

She will come back.

She will be scarred.
She will need to be loved.
But she will be happy again.

I’m not sorry.

I’m not sorry for missing or pushing back deadlines because my brain can’t focus.

I’m not sorry for missing social gatherings because I don’t have the nerve to leave the house.

I’m not sorry for not reaching out to friends or family because I don’t have the energy.

I am sorry to myself for not being honest about what I needed sooner.

A reminder for me and anyone reading: you are strong, you are important, and you are loved.

Growing up, I was lucky enough to know my great-grandma Mary Gordon (née Roche). The odd Saturday after dance class my mom would tell us we were going to Great Grandma’s, to the disbelief of the other dance moms who had lost their own grandmothers years ago.

My great-grandma Gordon lived to be 96. She was full of life right to the end, and stories, so many stories, a trait she passed down to her eldest, my grandmother.

I always knew there was importance in the stories she told. I’d sit at her feet rapt by the tales she spun from her armchair in her living room on Stella Avenue in the North End of Winnipeg, a long way from where she grew up in County Clare, Ireland.

When I was a child, she used to tell me that she wasn’t born, she was “found under a rock by a leprechaun.” She never failed to tell me this with a straight face and I never failed to laugh; I just thought she was playing into Irish stereotypes.

Five years after her passing, I set off to travel Europe on my own for a month. My first stop? Ireland. I learned so much about Irish history, including the Irish Civil War and the Great Famine.

On one of my last days, I popped into a gift shop. A stand of Irish family names caught my eye. I searched for Roche and found the familiar red and yellow crest with the three fish, framed with a write-up on the family’s origins. It read:

“originated in France as de la Roche, meaning ‘of the rock’.”

I read it again before a wry smile spread across my lips. I laughed, finally understanding the punchline of my great-grandma’s twisted Irish joke. After all these years, she really was telling me exactly who she was.

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I never knew my great-great-uncle Albert Lloyd Fox (his mother spelled it Loyd). But growing up I always heard of how he died fighting for his country. My grandfather was lucky enough to get hold of his diary that he kept during the war. My uncle’s diary has been transcribed and typed up by my grandfather, who is Fox’s nephew. Fox was a pilot officer for the Royal Canadian Air Force. He served in 1942 during the Second World War in the year of 1942. Fox fought with and for his country alongside the allies and helped them become victorious.

In his first entry on January 1, 1942 he wrote, “This day finds me at Rivers (Manitoba) having been presented with Air Navigators wing and sergeant stripes on December 20 and now studying Astral Navigation.” Albert wrote in his diary every day, usually just one or two lines. The temperatures started to drop and a lot of his practice flights were cancelled due to bad weather. On January 22 he headed home for the last time.

Before setting off by boat to Liverpool he wrote, “Realized that although it’s hard to leave, it’s harder for those we love to wait.” He spent eight days on the boat before catching sight of Ireland. Fox continued taking classes while in Europe and wrote to his family back home faithfully. On April 16 he wrote, “Nearly ‘had it’ tonight when another aircraft came down on top of us while waiting at the end of the runway – had no ‘after effect’ though.” Fox spent his down time attending shows and going to dances where he met Ida Sharmen, “a very nice girl and good company.”

In May he got out flying more, “saw more country in three hours than most people see in three years.” He wrote about his cross country flight. On May 27 he wrote, “tension very high in camp, nothing doing for us but all others preparing for something big. My guess is invasion preparations.”

“Went on ‘Ops’ (operational flight) tonight – dropped over a ton incendiaries on Dusseldorf. Attacked by fighter coming back punctured one gas tank. Caught by search lights and flak over Dutch coast – and another tank punctured,” wrote Fox on July 30.

The last letter Fox sent was to his family at home on December 19. The letter started, “well here I sit with a box of chocolates beside me – munching. I fully realize that I am going to have a terrible stomach ache, but it will be a glorious one.” Fox said he had received all of his family’s Christmas gifts that day. On their last “Ops” tour he was commended by his squadron for his navigation.

Fox died at the age of 22 on December 20, 1942. His family was notified of his death in a letter to Fox’s mother from crewman Ralph Bailie. The crew was on their way back from an operational flight and something went wrong. Their pilot decided to ditch and due to the bad weather their plane crashed into the sea. Bailie thinks Albert drowned almost immediately and only saw Fox come to the surface once. A gunboat picked up Bailie after picking up Fox and another crewman. The men on the gunboat tried to save Fox but there was nothing they could do. Fox was buried at Great Yarmouth (Caister) Cemetery in the United Kingdom.

This Remembrance Day I thought a lot about my great-great-uncle Albert Lloyd Fox. Remembrance Day is a time for Fox’s family to reflect on who they have lost in war and to always remember them.

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