Sometimes I look out the window and get this happy, jumpy little feeling in my heart. Something’s just so wonderful about knowing it’s going to be both the best and worst year of my life, and knowing I’m a strong person who’s able to take it all. I don’t want any of it to end–the beauty, the pain, the tears, the sunbeams that shine within. I’m a sketch, and it’s finally come time to add the details. Lightning is about to strike, and I’m on a rooftop with an umbrella. I know the rainclouds will roll in, and I’m here with an empty bucket.
I used to daydream about a year ago, when everything was so much better. I don’t anymore, because I wouldn’t trade who I’ve become for the world. I’m more independent. I’m wiser, more thoughtful, more experienced. My life is a big ball of hopes, wishes, negative thought processes, bright ideas, flowing tears. There’s nothing perfect about it, and I think that’s wonderful. What’s a life without anything to tackle or figure out? What’s a life without a few inner hurricanes?
This pain, this joy–it’s all such a sweet, pleasing feeling.
Hello, my beautiful readers (I want to spread love so I always say something like that. You are worth it!). This is both a personal update and a warning that I won’t be able to post many blog posts this coming year. And if I do, that means I’m either slacking off, super passionate about something that it’s worth slacking off over, or too depressed to do anything but write on the internet.
And now, the update. School is far more stressful than I had anticipated. I’ve got the work ethic. I’m doing everything I can (while keeping my health first, of course) to stay on top of things. The problem is, I’m having trouble in school. In previous years, the only problem standing between me and straight A’s was my poor time management skills. Such is not true anymore. The material isn’t making sense to me–only in Chemistry and Geometry, though. The little time I have is devoted to homework, so it’s difficult to find the time to get help. I’m committed to a three-hour program that meets three days a week, which I’m not about to quit. (And don’t take advantage of my openness by asking what it is.) Continue reading
Life is an ice rink, and we’re all children trying to learn how to skate. There will be stretches of fast, smooth gliding–and plenty of tripping. Enough bloggers have written about “the key to perfection” and “secrets to success”. It’s time to learn how to fall and how to fail.
First off, we must expect to fail and accept that failure is not a sign of personal weakness. Assuming that a new skater will be able to glissade across smooth ice as soon as her skates have been tied is simply unrealistic. It doesn’t matter how old you are–we’re always being exposed to fresh circumstances. Would you scold a little child for falling on the ice? Of course not! Refuse to treat yourself badly. Say nothing to or about yourself that you wouldn’t say to your dearest loved one.
Next, we learn how to fall. Have you ever taken skating lessons? There are techniques you must learn that will ensure falling safety. Such is true in life. One of the best things I’ve learned to do is come up with a list of ways to cope with sadness and disappointment to avoid resorting to self-hatred. Spend time with yourself. Run a hot bath, light some candles, and listen to some Debussy (an hour of Debussy here). Take a walk and engage your sense of smell. Do anything that relaxes you and lightens your mood. This way, you’ll know what to do when you fail.
She was the type of girl who cried at the littlest reprimand or stern look. Her whole world was a fragile house of cards supported by false hopes; and harshness, rejection, and malice were never included. Everything was a daydream: sticks were spears, creeks were oceans, sheds were skyscrapers. Her mind was always on things she could never hold in her hands, concepts far beyond her years. All around her mind were metaphors. Cereal pieces floated apart in her bowl of milk, and her heart broke–to her, they were two friends shattering a beautiful bond. How could they be so cruel? she wondered. But she never stopped to answer her own question, because the next fantasy was waiting, and there was no room in her busy mind for sadness.
Four years later, she was ten, feeling the weight of some cruelly, carelessly uttered insults collapsing her fragile, idealized worldview. Suddenly, she understood. Rejection, exclusion, and sadness painfully squeezed their way into her brain. And in that distressing process, more than a few daydreams were pushed away. The years brought bumps and bruises, wounds that refused to turn into callouses. By thirteen, she was lost. Who was she? Where could she find more hopes to build another house of cards? She looked into the mirror one day and decided that she was nobody. All she considered herself to be was an item for someone else. Countless times she offered her heart and her body to anyone who would take it. She wanted to be loved, and to belong somewhere–anywhere. Nobody could satisfy her deep hunger for attention, connection, and attachment. The highs and lows, the fear, and the insecurities commanded her until she fell to her knees and quit. Once again, she found herself on the bathroom floor shaking, her shabbily duct-taped heart bursting from her chest.
Don’t do your best. I mean it. Let yourself fail to live up to your full potential. Shocked? It’s okay. I would be too. But hear me out. I want you to think about your very best. Not just a good effort–I mean everything you have in yourself, every last scrap of effort and stamina you’ve saved up in your entire existence. Now imagine exerting yourself that much for months–in a school or work setting, primarily. You’d quit like a rickety minivan with no gas. You’d have nothing left in you at all. But you did your best, right? That’s all that matters!
Not. You know what matters more? Your physical, mental, and emotional health. Your well-being is infinitely more important than any job or task you have. I’m not telling you to slack off. I’m warning you not to do your best if you care about your health at all. Do the best that you can without sacrificing yourself. There is no need to push yourself until you give in to exhaustion, because it will take forever to gain back that energy. Doing the best that you possibly can means neglecting yourself and your basic needs. It means ignoring any opportunity to relax and have fun. And that’s not a sacrifice you want to make, trust me.
Don’t do your best. Work hard while keeping self-care and well-being a priority. You are a human being with limits. Don’t let your boss, teacher, or anyone tell you to neglect your needs. Fun and relaxation are requirements to healthy living. And healthy living is what we should strive for.
Okay. I’ve had a problem with this ad since the first time I saw it. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I’m overreacting. But I feel the need to discuss it anyway, because something just sounded off about it.
“When I have a huge zit on my face, everyone’s talking to that part of my face.”
Okay. In the first five seconds of the ad, we’re hearing insecurity. I get it, nobody likes acne. But honestly? Do people really stare at your zit when they’re talking to you? Of course not. Now, I would understand that it could feel that way, but it’s not. It makes me sad that a product is being sold to me on basis of insecurity. Why the insecurity? Why?
“I don’t want people to remember me as the girl with the zit, I want them to remember me as me.” Continue reading
One of my recent password-protected posts has inspired me to go on an informative mission. I would really like for people to understand mental illnesses better. In an ideal world, there would be no stigma, shame, or trivialization. I strongly believe that such a world can exist, but we must work towards it. And you know, this is important. Because 26 percent of American adults has some sort of mental illness (http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/the-numbers-count-mental-disorders-in-america/index.shtml). Guys, that’s a little more than one in four. One in four. Don’t act like mental illnesses are reserved for people who “seem” crazy. We are normal people. We are among you. (That sounds like a like from a horror film, sorry.)
Oh, and before I start, I just want to say that I didn’t come up with the idea to bombard you with a ton of links. I kinda took it from a friend who did this a few months ago…but I get a considerable amount of publicity on this blog, so I thought it would be helpful to put it here. I will also include additional information that I may find helpful.
Okay, now I can begin. All the information! Continue reading
Learning to love oneself is so empowering. Freeing. Imagine feeling at peace with the person you naturally are, embracing your imperfections and letting go of the need for flawlessness. Here are some ideas I’ve come up with that have helped me (or could theoretically help me) love myself. Maybe you’ll like some of them.
- Meditate. Create a happy space in your mind. It can be a real place or imaginary–anything goes. When you’re feeling upset or negative, go there and take deep breaths. Imagine breathing in happiness, peace, and joy. Associate a color with it. Feel it wash over you.
- Take a shower. Reflect on life in a positive light. Close your eyes and feel the water and the soap.
- Read. Lose yourself in a wonderful book. I prefer non-violent, non-horror material, but whatever floats your boat.
I’ve had this blog for a year now. Exactly a year, I believe. It started out as a way for me to try subtly impressing everyone–showing off my writing skills and my oh-so-wonderful ideas without being outwardly prideful about it. I liked to think of myself as a sort of Anne Shirley. I was, in a way. I think I still am, though I’ve changed. I’m sassier and more opinionated, which I guess is something every teenager will grow into and out of at some point. Then it became a place for me to pour out all my inspirational, hopeful stuff (see, a year ago, I would have had a problem with putting the word stuff in a post, but I’m looser about it now). My intentions were good, but I think I thought I knew everything when I didn’t. From there, my blog became a place to weep about my horrible past (September and October), then to post random drivel. Most of the posts from November to January aren’t really worth reading, to be honest. Here’s a quote from one of the posts:
If you’ve ever been on any sort of social media site, specifically tumblr, you’ve probably seen some of the depressionspiration. Yes, depressionspiration. You’ve probably heard of thinspiration–more commonly known as thinspo or pro-ana–the glorifying of anorexia (by glorifying, I mean painting it as desirable, when eating disorders really aren’t). D-spo (I made up that term, by the way, and I’m going to abbreviate it like so) is doing the same thing for depression. I might even venture to say that it’s being treated as hip or trendy.
To be blunt, this pisses me the hell off. A lot. Depression isn’t glamorous. It isn’t some cute little clique where everyone wears blue shirts that say #TEAM DEPRESSION written on them. I don’t understand why society is trying to tell us that this mental illness is a cute, graceful, quirky thing. Continue reading