fourteen years

 I started using this blog fourteen years ago. the flowering and final evolution of my mind that grew from a dank seed of doubts and pain, planted by church-goers. I was reminded of its existence as I watch Drew McCoy of Genetically Modified Skeptic on YouTube this evening. my Evangelical deconversion is a huge part of who I am, who I was l, before and during church attendance. the last fourteen years have been a whirlwind of "exvangelical" media consumption and political discussion: Dan and Jordan of Knowledge Fight, Jake and Brooke of I Hate James Dobson, the boys at The Worst of All Possible Worlds in their series Whit's Endless Summer. I don't feel any love or kinship to these groups and topics necessarily, but I still somehow find them endlessly entertaining and fascinating. They also terrify me. We live in a post-Kirk world. Info Wars is "over." I can only hope the world opinion of the United States is irreparable. 

My eyes darted over the words a younger Sarah wrote. The one reading in 2026 understood and those emotions, those cuts made so many years ago, felt fresh. But as she revisited those words, the realization that she did not identify as the same person came to the forefront. The adage of older and wiser. 

I do not routinely cry, unable to leave my bed, because my life and feelings towards myself are unbearable and unable to be changed. Quite the opposite. I cannot recall the last time I shed a tear. 

I feel hardened. I am frustrated, daily, yes. Social media bombards me with depressing news. There is rage bait I could not have imagined in my wildest dreams. I "care" in the sense that I am deeply empathetic. I feel what so many others are feeling; about our world, about our politicians. But I lack a deep desire to dive headfirst into argument. I am generally content with myself, as a person, a wife, a member of a community. 

I don't recall the last time I felt deep hatred inward. It has been years that included uprooting my physical place I called home, the career I built and loved and felt so called to and content in, where I had found friendship and mentorship and love and joy. Once you have a taste for these things, the deepest fear is that nothing else is comparable. Imagine the unsuppressable ravishment when the next stop involves a better work/life balance, better financial security, and even more exquisite friendships. 

I truly believe this can only come with age: I do not care what anyone else thinks. I go forth in my existence speaking truthfully, exhibiting kindness, appearing physically in ways I find to be beautiful and authentic. 

I am full of love and ooze positivity. I quite literally sing. Whistle while I work. 

I do not recognize the girl in these pages.

The laundry is not the issue

 "You don't have to do all that laundry, you know. I can help out."

Stomp. Feel voice raising. Fucking do it anyway. "I had to do this laundry, right now, because I don't have any work clothes left AT ALL." Feel the anger rolling off my shoulders, fingertips, tongue, feel tears stinging the back of my eyelids and I regret it all instantly. The tone. The response to someone offering to lighten my burden. 

Yeah, I'm not normal. 

He lets me cry and go to him, apologizing through my tears. "I'm sorry, that was not the right way to speak when you were trying to help me." He knows I'm trying. For some reason, he accepts my apology. I feel I don't deserve it. 

I've been exploring a couple of angles over the past day. My therapist offered some information on types of anger expression, a psychological and emotional abuse pattern, and negative, self-blaming talk. I'm looking into anger management strategies on my own. My anger is aggressive because I use volume and tone to kind of.. just get my feelings across and get people off my back, I think, ultimately. THIS MAKES ME FEEL SO MAD! I'M GOING TO TELL YOU THAT I AM SO FUCKING MAD. OVER LAUNDRY. LEAVE ME ALONE. 

Every assessment says I need anger management help, like, yesterday. 

It's Friday morning and I'm not working the next two days, so at the end of the day, I could wear something not soiled a second time and move on. I'm not angry he didn't do laundry. I'm angry I don't have time for errands or for myself. Instead of finding a way to manage my time or communicating that our differing schedules means yes, I would appreciate him doing some laundry one evening.. I am aggressive. What I mean in my heart of hearts is more along the lines of "this is the best time for me to do it, and the drawers are getting pretty empty! I don't mind to do it because it's a load of my work clothes." With a neutral, hell, even positive tone of voice. Because it's not the god-awful hour that I'm up running errands that bothers me, and it's not that I think he's lazy, I think I'm just mad at myself. Who lets all the clothes get piled up like that? Why can't I run this household? Why don't I accept help? Why don't I even ask? Ding ding ding, negative self-talk. 

So. What am I learning here?

• Anger is a normal response to situations. The way anger is expressed has to be assertive to be healthy, not aggressive or passive.
• I blame and feel hate for myself very often. 
• Psychological abuse includes attacking someone else's self-esteem, and my way is usually by looking down on the other person and treating them like they are stupid, like they don't understand my situation, and treating them like a child. Origin may be because I'm angry with myself, and I don't know how to address that yet, so I take it out elsewhere. Again, aggressively.
• Another form of psychological abuse I employ is refusing to acknowledge a problem that the other person feels is important. I addressed this yesterday with my person. One thing I do almost every time without failure is minimize their experience of my outburst or tone of voice or content of my message, and argue that I didn't say it that way. I have to remember that I am listening to someone who is here of their own choice, who loves me, who is not manipulating or tricking me in any way. They are simply sharing how I made them feel. To brush that off and begin an argument undermines them as a human being with emotions and responses to experiences is selfish and disrespectful of me. I need to really listen, and pump the brakes and apologize. 

I have a notebook where I'm starting to self-monitor my anger. I write the situation, what angry thought I'm having, how it makes me feel, and what I do to respond. I'm looking for a pattern to hopefully help tackle this thing. 

It is painful, unearthing the beast inside me and looking into its eyes for the first time. 

A return

I've decided to attempt to blog again, perhaps even daily. I don't share this blog with just anyone, and it's been a couple of years - but I am making an serious attempt to turn over a new leaf and improve myself. 

What a laugh, me trying to write my way to self-actualization. 

This is a pattern. 

I started using TalkSpace yesterday, in a last desperate attempt to quell my issues with stress, anger, and communication. I'm still in love. I still have my person. But I'm all of the things I've been writing for years, and each conversation that escalates to argument leaves me with the same reprimand: "I've been saying these things to you for years." 

I'm afraid of myself these days, because in all reality, my life is good. But I'm stuck in my head and I know I can and will do more damage to those closest to me. From my mouth, my words, my sighs, my screams. I know I've written about job changes and education and the general gist of my life here, but I'm actually in a really good place financially and career-wise. I returned to school for my dream job, something I knew I wanted to do since I was about thirteen. I am a nurse. I spend my days actively listening, providing an outlet in a lot of situations to people who have it much worse, at least physically, than myself. People are angry when they are not in control and are in pain. All of the customer service experience I've gained throughout my life has prepared me for the terrible things people say when they are scared and hurting. I'm running around all day and night, solving problems, and it's sometimes a quite thankless job. But I couldn't ask for anything better, I finally feel some sense of belonging and strive to provide for people all that I can. I bite my tongue when people are taking their anger out on me. I have a lot of good feedback from management and patients. I am gentle and I am a provider and advocate. I know I'm very good at my job. 

So why do I then go home and throw all of it out the window? This is what I'm trying to explore myself and with my new therapist. How can I spend all of this energy listening and thinking carefully before I speak for a paycheque, but not for someone who has my heart and built a nest with me? 

Do I take the "learn how to manage stress" road? Is it just about burnout? 

Or do I not love him? 

What's wrong with me? 

I'm terrified it's either all me, I'm broken beyond repair, I don't even hear myself being unkind and I can't understand it. The alternative is that he is broken, too. Or that I'm actually okay, and maybe someone else is being unkind to me. It's a mess in my head when I try to wade back through the muddy waters of our conversations. I feel like the words that leave my mouth are reasonable questions or comments, but I'm met with hurt and frustration. 

If I can't even understand what I'm doing wrong in the first place, I must be a lost case. 

I spend my mornings sitting outside, and I'll chain smoke, and I'll close my eyes and picture him. How good he is, and how I will be good to him when I see him next. I'll meditate, or something resembling meditation because I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'll feel a warmness in my belly and imagine him smiling, and us laughing together, and how the night will end positively and I will turn over from our nest and put a fat number "1" on a board that reads "it has been __ days since we had a screaming match and made each other cry." 

God, I hope my therapist can help me.

cigarettes

i hate that i started smoking. i remember countless arguments when i rebuked him for something that i found vile. but i started smoking little peach cigarellos - before they became illegal to sell - when i worked a very draining job a couple of years ago. to take a break to smoke was tantamount to a seven minute slice of heaven, a moment of escape and solitude. i began to crave the high, the lightness, the shortness of breath, the dizzying feeling of love that can only come from a small stack of paper and chemicals. i longed for those minutes we would spend talking outside, bonding over a mutual destruction of our insides. now it just reminds me of my loneliness. it makes me feel hot with sadness and regret. it tastes like defeat on my tongue, and my heartbeat quickens from nicotine, but i imagine it’s because of my hate for myself.

i’m looking out at the moon in the midday sky, wishing i could go there. i should be alone. i won’t hurt anyone anymore that way. i’m looking out at the apartment complexes spread out around me, thinking they are all houses but none of them can ever be my home.

i’m smoking camels and i’m torn into pieces over how i want to be reminded of him but i don’t deserve to share in anything that was his.

On anger and perfection

I am the strangest perfectionist I know.

The picture that usually comes to my mind when I think of a "perfectionist" is someone who is always very organized, almost always quite intelligent, and of course they are successful. I didn't  necessarily believe that someone could have a desire to be perfect and through that desire become angry and controlling - and sometimes even fail at doing things right.

I realized that I have a great desire to make sure that things are always running smoothly. This isn't always because I hate confrontation or have trouble finding solutions for problems, but the best way I can think to describe it is a craving for efficiency. I don't like it when things could be going smoothly but someone, somewhere along the way, made an error or didn't make an effort. I can accept that I can't control everything, but nothing puts a damper on my day more than someone not pulling their weight.

So sometimes when I find the broken link along the chain of "things that should be going great for me/my job/etc. today," I'm really angry. Someone didn't think to communicate effectively or even at all. Someone didn't order something we ran out of at work. Someone had an excuse not to do something very important that is now going to fuck it up for everyone else. Instead of trying to empathize with the reasons why something didn't go as planned, or ignoring it, or anything else that's probably more helpful - I pull the extra weight and resent everyone for it. I can stew and hold a grudge for an entire work day if I really don't think someone listened or took the necessary steps to prevent a problem. And I think deep inside, I'm feeling righteous because I knew better than someone else did and I know that I'll swoop in to fix the problem someone else created.

To make things better, something about waking up on any Wednesday morning puts me in a terrible mood. The first thing that puts a bump in my road on a Wednesday will make you wish you had never met me at all. The exact same scenario could come up on a Tuesday or a Monday and I will be fine, but say a prayer if it's Wednesday. I've been hyper aware of my mid-week grumpiness and have been trying to take extra care to remember to breathe, tell myself it won't matter later, all of the mindful solutions I've learned to make sure my heart doesn't expire on me. So after a few weeks of being a little bit less "Satan" to my co-worker, I said goodbye today and asked if I had been as mean lately and if I could do anything else to improve.

I was hoping for something positive. I was pleading for a pat on the back and encouragement that I'm heading in the right direction. Instead I was met with a pause before, "it's not that you're being mean today. That's just you being Sarah."

Maybe this has multiple interpretations, or the word choice wasn't exactly the sentiment they wished to express, but for now; this is crushing me.

It's not that I'm mean for a good reason, or on a certain day of the week, or when the stars align just so.

It's just who I am to some people.

I've watched over time as some people have regarded me with respect and complimented my abilities and work ethic, to eventually stop saying positive things and instead make jokes about my controlling and angry attitude. I don't want to be the butt of "it must be that time of the month" jokes every day, but that's who I have been more often than not. I threw a temper tantrum last week over something that went a little screwy with my computer. This is not normal behaviour, not for me, not for anyone.

I value working hard and well - but not over respect and sanity. I am desperately trying to learn how to balance caring about what I produce without alienating others or worrying about whether they have the same output.

This bit of writing isn't going to have a happy ending where I reveal how I've solved my problem. I'm certainly a work in progress.

this is an open letter to any man that i have shared spaced with in a professional setting or may meet and work with in the future:

i am polite because my mother raised me so. the golden rule - Do to others what you want them to do to you - was repeated often in our house.

my kindness is not to be mistaken for flirtatiousness. i am kind because it is important to show warmth in this cold world.
i am not kind to stroke your ego.
i am not kind to be coy.
my kindness does not have an ulterior motive.

please don't talk about my shoulders. my hair. my face. my back. my legs. the shape of my clothes.

i work so that i can live. so i can pay my bills. so i can network. so i can further my career. so i can garner more skills. so i can improve upon the skills i already have.

i do not work so i can be the subject of your endless compliments. i do not beg for your compliments so i can live. so i can pay my bills. so i can network. so i can further my career. so i can garner more skills. so i can improve upon the skills i already have.

i can't believe i have to ask this of you.

but...
please don't touch my shoulders.
my hair.
my hands.
the small of my back.

even if it is a light brush as you laugh and tell me a joke. even if it is as you have to pass by me in a hallway, room, or aisle. even if you are looking over my shoulder at a computer to look at work. even if you think it is innocent or friendly and you believe you do it to everyone.

just... please. please don't stand so close.

please don't don't say you'll miss me so much over the weekend.

please don't tell me i'm beautiful.
please don't call me a lovely young lady.
please don't tell me i couldn't do anything wrong.
please don't call me perfect.
please don't tell me about your sex life.



...
the worst part is, i will always be wrong.

i was too nice.
i wore the wrong clothes.
i gave the wrong impression.
i am overreacting.
i am a feminist;
an angry, radical feminist.
one of those girls.

i'm crying rape;
crying wolf.
you're laughing at sexual harassment in the workplace videos.
i'm arrogant for thinking you would want me.

i just want to be kind.
i just want to be warm enough to make work less sterile and strict.

i may be beautiful.
i may be lovely.
i may be young.
but;
it will never impact my ability to work hard.
and i will not work harder or differently because you tell me so.
don't tell me so.

Nobody Loves Us

people think all we do 

is lie around and think of how 

rich we'd be if we didn't think 

life could improve 

and we just can't wait to make more mistakes 

and we just can't wait till the whole thing blows up in our face... - Morrissey

 I've made some odd choices in my life. I haven't exactly enjoyed growing up. I feel as though it's a simple dream for a young teen to be anxious to have their own car, move out from the watchful look of their parents, and stay up late without consequences. There's always more to it than playing and doing what you want, however. Our education system forces us to decide who and what we want to be by age fourteen. The courses we choose will directly impact and effectively limit our options when applying for post-secondary. And I don't know about you, but when I was fourteen I wasn't thinking much about where I would live, what I would spend 80% of my day doing, how I would contribute to society, and if it would be able to pay my bills.

I hate debt, living pay cheque to pay cheque, feeling stuck in a place and time where I can feel my "free time" and "younger days" slipping out of my grasp. I want to create and absorb so much beauty that I know the world has to offer, but I've dipped my toes into adult quicksand and I'm taking the old "don't move, you'll sink quicker" advice to heart. I'm letting it happen, slowly, every day, hour by hour. I'm at a stand-still with my hobbies. I've debating going back to school. I'm trying to plan a vacation, albeit a small one, at least it's better than being nowhere but home and work. I feel passionless and weak. I feel defeated.

I'm working as a pharmacy technician these days, and it's a pleasant job. I like the hours and the people. I can see myself staying for a while until my other half finishes school and his business takes off. I'd much rather be doing something in a creative field, but I don't feel as though painting or photography will be stable enough. The dream is to have an okay job and fill the rest of my time with creative endeavors, like my traditional and digital painting, a fashion photography blog, and act in and help make my significant others' films. One day at a time, I force myself to try something new, practice my skills, and effectively work towards these goals. I'm just so acutely sad and it makes "go draw for a bit" a really tough thing to sell myself.

I know enough about setting goals that I'm going to overwhelm myself, but there's just so many things I need to make my days worth getting up for. I need to be softer, kinder. I need to take in the good and let go of the bad. I need to let myself dream and feel. I need to listen. I need to create. I need to take care of myself physically. I need to let myself be loved, especially when I don't believe I deserve it.

Today and tomorrow and forever after, I will throw myself at life and life will have to react to me.

At the current time

I miss writing. There was a time when I truly felt the cathartic release that came along with being able to accurately put one's deepest emotions into a language others could identify with.

I miss using any language at all, verbal or otherwise. I am quiet lately. Oddly so.

I reflected on some of my past musings and I am sorely disappointed to report that not much has changed. I am still small and stale, angry and apologetic, capable of loving too intensely yet altogether too distantly.

The past year has seen yet another career change, death, and still there has been some redeeming beauty. I still cry. I still wish I could be extraordinary. I still wake up every day and groan inwardly, praying for my life to end despite being utterly destroyed that someone else I know had the audacity to chose to take theirs.

Every wish and hope and dream and goal I have will go another day unseen and unachieved, and still I sigh and say "maybe tomorrow." One day I will awake and there will not be much time left. I am not usually one for feeling regretful but I truly fear the regret unbeknownst to me yet will catch up.

The Right Place at the Right Time

I feel like I've had a pretty trying summer.

I finished my Health, Wellness, and Fitness diploma. As much as I felt successful for completing it, I didn't know what to do next. Every job I applied for was entry level, and every entry level position was some bland flavour of sales. I finally managed to get a sales position at a gym, so as at least I didn't feel like my background knowledge would be wasted.

I loved many things about my job selling gym memberships. Most times, I felt like I was helping people. I was giving them something that they knew they wanted and needed, and when they didn't need too much convincing on the benefits of exercise and how it would change their life, then I was happy. Unfortunately for me, the nature of sales is not "they wanted it, they came to me, and so I gave it to them." My contentedness shattered when I couldn't keep up with my personal goals, let alone the club's goals. I began to feel less like I had something worth selling, and more like I was the equivalent of a telemarketer and the kid who jumps around outside Little Caesars, trying to get the attention of passersby. I didn't feel like a salesperson. I didn't feel like I could be good at selling.

I came to a crossroads of sorts. I had to make a decision: do I push myself, learn the skills, practice, and become a great seller? Do I change my perspective, try something new, see the position in a different light? Is my goal still to simply help others? Or should I throw the towel in and accept that some people do not have the gift of the glib?

Who was I, really?

A quitter? Someone who would succeed, no matter what?

I began to fervently apply for other jobs. I wanted to do something that wasn't related to sales, that didn't have a bunch of numbers and goals and quotas to meet. I wanted to be alone; I was worn out by the greetings and scripts and "peak attitude" I had to force myself to have every day. I started to apply for general labour positions, because I just wanted to work hard and keep to myself. I didn't want anything glamourous. I simply wanted to work.

I immediately received a call from a temporary staffing agency about a light general labour position. I was on my way to my job at the gym at the time. I made a joke about being on the road to the position I really didn't enjoy at all, and the man on the phone insisted I come by that morning so I could do something I wouldn't hate anymore. I shrugged it off, told him maybe I'd come to the interview, and went on my way, But I ended up at work early, and my heart was pounding, and I had a feeling I just couldn't shake. I explained to my manager that an emergency had come up - yes, I was dishonest, was I becoming a salesperson at long last? - and left to go see the man who had called me.

It started to pour rain, and I was sweating from my nerves and the humidity, and I was in my gym uniform (which isn't really interview attire, which you could probably guess). I looked and felt awful. But I showed up, announced myself as the girl who hated her job, and received huge smiles from the two men who greeted me. I was sat down with some tedious paperwork and we made small talk about my job and my morning. I was told someone would shortly take me to see the warehouse I'd be working in when the second man approached me. He asked me about my education and my five year plan. I mentioned my diploma and my plan to do something further in human resources and occupational health and safety. Corporate wellness is totally my jam.

"You're overqualified for these labour positions," he said without skipping a beat. "I have something else that is much better suited for you, if you'll give me a chance."

And that's how I was thrust into my new resource administrator position at a temporary staffing agency. I simply said I wanted to learn about human resources, and now I'm a human resource administrator. I literally qualify people for work, complete health and safety work and training with them, interview them, get them on the pay roll, and get them into work as smoothly as possible.

I woke up one morning, dreading the end of the month and the pressure of my sales position, and the next morning, I was sitting at my own desk, with my own work computer, frantically phoning and emailing and learning a whole new system - but I was happy.

The two positions have great similarities, if I'm honest - I don't get away from making a multitude of phone calls, booking appointments, having conversations, and servicing people. But I don't have to fret over nearly as many numbers. It's a lot less guilt tripping and telemarketing when you call someone who is desperate for work versus someone who maybe wants to try the gym for free but won't actually commit to a membership for a whole year. I'm learning a lot about the laws governing employment and employees and health and safety, and it's all very interesting. And at the end of the day, it's a business. I'm helping and teaching people, and I'm marketing, and I'm organizing a lot of data, and there's never really a dull moment. It's a cozy office. They're great people. I feel accomplished. I feel like I could really go somewhere in this role.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about how quickly things changed. I applied for a job, I answered a phone call, I went somewhere against my better judgment (against anyone's, really - when it all comes down to it, I lied and skipped work and left without much notice).

I guess there is such a thing as fate, as being in the right place at the right time.

Achieving goals

I remember being in my diploma program full-time this past year and thinking at one point, "if someone mentions 'SMART' goals one more time, I am going to make a point and actually drag a dead horse into this lecture hall and beat it in front of my professors." It was the moral of every story, the take-away from every lesson, the final question in every exam. How do you set a goal? How do you make sure you take the steps to achieve it? What are the barriers, pitfalls, and common mistakes? How can we ensure others' success when helping them set their goals?

I was sure I'd be able to literally do anything I wanted after my program. I was set for life. I could do anything.

But then I took a sales job in the health, wellness, and fitness industry and I was terrified of not achieving my goals. I even had a fancy mathematical formula that explained exactly what I needed to do in order to get what I wanted, and still I felt like I was staring into Death's face each time I walked into work. Yeah, I can't do this. I know I have my super specific goals laid out, and everything's measurable and attainable and realistic and has to be done by the end of the month, but damn.

So excuse me while I do a victory dance on this early morning on the 30th of this 31-day month of July, where I've already achieved my sales goal and gone ahead and made a new one for the next two days. The second of which I'm already very confident I can reach.

One thing I've had to come to terms with as a perfectionist is that you can't be good at something the first time you try it. I have unrealistic expectations whenever I attempt something, which leaves me unhappy, lacking confidence, feeling stupid, and a whole whack of other nasty things. Any normal person knows that "practice makes perfect" and that it takes time to learn. Well, goddamn, it took me long enough to learn that learning is a process. This whole paragraph is getting exhausting. The point is that I've been extremely hard on myself, which can be a huge barrier when it comes to self-improvement.

In the past, I've been a quitter. I've thought, "I'm not good at this and it's the first time.. so I should probably just stop doing it now and save everyone the trouble." The only person I end up harming with that decision is myself. Now, if you wanted to talk about things I'm really good at it, self-sabotage is the area of study where I've earned most of my achievements.

Setting goals is kind of the easy part, once you know how it's done. Sticking with the steps in between that will ensure your success, even when you fall off track.. that's the meat and potatoes of the whole thing. That's where you'll make or break the bank. That's where you really grow.

I guess the take-away here includes a few things:

a. if someone repeats something, it's probably important and worth listening to.
b. wanting something is only a small portion of the work involved in getting what you want.
c. learning takes effort and time.
d. I genuinely believe it's impossible to stay bad at something if you heed the advice mentioned in point "c." You will improve eventually.
e. failure doesn't have to be a negative experience.

okay, now you're ready to conquer that to-do list!

A New Perspective

I often write about my flaws and things I know about myself that I want to change. I periodically reassess and try to evaluate whether I've made much progess (sometimes I have to hang my head and whisper to myself, "if any"). One of my main goals lately has been to adopt a positive perspective. I question whether a comment or circumstance is worth truly worrying about and try to nip the "stressed out" status in the bud, allowing me cushion time to better filter and categorize what situations actually warrant my worry and concern. I've said stuff like this before; everything makes me jump around like a rabbit late for a very important date. I need to cut that out. It's a terrible way to live. 

Progress report: I think I'm doing and going to be okay. 

I met a guy today. He's bubbly and outgoing. He's always cracking jokes and laughing and complimenting whoever he speaks to. Even when someone is angry with him or a situation, he's empathetic and just does his best. He seems to operate on a "this is the present" mentality. No dwelling on the future or the past. All he has is what he currently has in front of him, and he tackles it with a "can-do" attitude. If something doesn't work perfectly, he doesn't get upset. He keeps smiling and keeps going.

I was in awe. I still am. I know I'm made of the same stuff as him and that I can eventually handle my life and interactions in the same way; it just never seems easy when you're on the other side. 

One situation, one conversation, one event at a time.. that's how I'm learning to be a little more care-free.

Sometimes I live in a fantasy world (on dream jobs)

Sometimes I find myself dreaming of a world where amazing things happen and my life is perfect. I am discovered for some talent or skill that I've showcased, and it's smooth sailing from that moment on because I'm young and learn quickly and we're all so connected. Fame and brains can coexist, and I'll love my job, and everyone will know my name.

Other times I fantasize about a revolution wherein the structure of "you need a degree to do X job" will dissolve and people will have the opportunity to prove their worth through more than crippling debt and sucking corporate dick to get somewhere, anywhere that isn't a dead end customer service or sales job. I don't want a job, I want a career. I don't want eleven dollars an hour and to be screamed at for nine hours every day because some obese wonder didn't get to eat her burger quick enough. I don't want to use my excellent communication skills to sell old ladies services and products they can't understand just because I want to be able to afford one million Sephora trips each month (and a new car). My life and the things I do are not going to be about money, but they sure as hell will be about who I am and what I can offer. And I'm in the business of doing something good for people.

I am sharp as a whip. I'm kind, in a "want some candy?" sort of way, without the white van. People like me, people like to talk to me, and people tell me I'm going to be able to do something big.

I want to research.
I want to solve problems.
I want to educate.
I want to listen.
I want to build something.
I want to create hope.

I can only do so much of this in an "entry level" job that high schoolers get hired to do. And I don't get to do any of it without money and time.

I didn't know what my "dream job" was until this year. TWENTY FIFTEEN. I've been thining about education and careers since the beginning of high school, and that's a long time . I'm in an embarrassing amount of debt. I have bills to pay and things I need to do. I don't get to do the things I know I would love and excel at simply because I didn't know that they existed until a couple of months ago.

First plan: nursing. Until I wasn't smart enough.
Second plan: follow a boy to Bible college (I guess "wife" is a profession).
Third plan: social work??????
Fourth plan: health/wellness, possibly personal training.
Fifth and final plan: human resources, corporate wellness, occupational health and safety.

The common thread is a desire to help. I like to think I'm personable, and passionate, and creative, and able to relate to people and listen to them and help them in any way I can. It took me so long to find a place, a position that exists where I can do those things. Solving problems, training, teaching about safety, improving stress levels and health and satisfaction and morale in people's jobs? Hella great stuff.

It's going to take me another year or so to get the education I need to be able to do something in HR. I'm dedicated to the cause; I'm very serious about it and I know it will take a lot of hard work doing something I might hate in order to get somewhere I will love. Don't misunderstand me here; I'm not trying to just complain and say the world is unfair. I think it is sometimes, but I also acknowledge my agency. I'm going to have do some shit I'm going to dislike, and I'm going to whine about how no one discovered my blog or Youtube or Twitch or whatever else, (why does everything always seem easier for everyone else?) but eventually I'll get where I'm going.

The point is that there are dreams where you might not ever get to do the things you DAYdream about. But there are other dreams that are possible, even if they seem really, really out of reach at the time. How much does it matter to you? What will you do to get it? What is your perspective?

Positivity and a good work ethic will go a long way.

Started from the bottom

Go back to fourth grade. The assignment is to read a level-appropriate book and get up in front of the class and summarize the plot. I choose Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I stand up when it's my turn, and stand there, beet-red for probably two minutes. though it feels more like a lifetime. Before I spontaneously combust, I decid to sit back down. Silently. I receive a failing grade, an incomplete.

Stay in and around fourth grade. Every winter, we do school speeches. No matter how much I practice, how confident I feel at home, how helpful my cue-cards are written, I still choke.

Stay around fourth grade a while longer (they really like to torture me, an otherwise A-grade student). I read Sammy Keyes and the Hotel Thief. I have a creative component to go with my oral presentation. I made a shoebox diorama. I don't speak, and I don't show anyone.

Go back to high school English class. I am doing a report on something I read. I am really excited to talk about The Blind Assassin. I get up, smile at the class, and say, "I think I'd rather fail than try and do this." I sit back down, everyone incredulous at how easily I let my usually-good grades slip by me.

Go back to second semester of my first year (and time) at college. A group of us are presenting on homosexuality in our culture. I am genuinely interested in talking to people about the topic. I stumble, say, "uhm" a lot, and frustrate myself for not being as articulate as I am when I write. But at least I speak.

Stay in college. I am doing a small handful of other presentations: most with others, one or two on my own. I alway miss an important discussion point or potential for dialogue. I think to myself, I should be able to speak my mind, why is it so hard?

Go back to about a year ago. I realize once I enrolled in another program at another college that I am going to have exams where I have to essentially "perform" tasks and showcase skills to my professors. I feel sick to my stomach thinking about having to explain what I learn in a "hands on" environment. I just want to write papers and read books. I don't want to speak. I know I won't be able to get across what I actually know and am capable of.

I really didn't want to speak, but I did. 

Go back a couple of weeks ago. Classmates are around me, asking last minute questions, going over scenarios with me and expressing their terror at having to do yet another practical exam.

I'm standing outside the examination room, my heart beating its steady badum, badum, badum. I'm being tested on my interviewing skills, my ability to be engaging and professional. I look the part. I know already exactly what I'm going to say.

I'm encouraging others to relax and plan their talking points, if they think it might help. I'm telling them it's just a conversation, something they do everyday. How did they meet me, engage me in conversation? The same way they're going to on this exam.

---

I'm the girl who used to freeze up and give up out of fear. I'm the girl who just didn't want to try. But look at me now; helping others, giving people advice. I can prepare material and talk in front of a group. Really, I can talk to anyone. I've come a really long way from the scared kid I used to be. We can always overcome our greatest fears.

Broken

I went to school today a bit early to have coffee and meet up with a good friend of mine. I asked her about her weekend, and heard how she's been going through a tough time. We ended up having a really amazing heart to heart.

We had to meet up and talk because I've been short with her lately. I find myself easy to anger, and I often speak out of turn. I wanted to apologize and let her into my world.

I've been trying for over a year to determine what has changed me. I know I wasn't always an angry person, someone who always overreacts. I also know that my bad reactions to seemingly insignificant things are not constant; sometimes it comes and goes, like a phase. I can have a bad couple of weeks or months, and then "improve," yet relapse again. I keep trying to pinpoint what went wrong. I keep beating myself up over not finding lasting change. I'm a vessel for worriedness and defensiveness.

I told her all of this. I told her all my fears. She told me things about herself, too. At one point, my friend looked at me with tears in her eyes. She told me a story about her abusive father."People just have so much baggage," she said softly at the end. "I think I'm broken. I think you're broken, too."

It's never easy to admit you need help. It's never easy to look at your life and take the things that hurt you and turn them into betterment. It's usually easier to lay it all out and use it as a way to explain why you are the way you are. I'm just not content to use my pain to explain away my actions.

I'm grateful to know people who listen to me, love me, and support me. I don't like where I am, but I am hopeful that I can grow out of it because I am loved.

Who knew? Sharing your heart, part III

I'm only a couple of years late with this one. Here's part I and part II.

I've recently revisted the idea of "transparency," a concept introduced to me in Bible college. I flip-flopped between loving it, allowing myself to grow through vulnerability, and aboslutely dreading the next time someone would expect to find my heart an open, bleeding sore. I've had some time and greatly different life experiences to marinate the whole thing in, and I've come to the conclusion that being honest about yourself will bring you more opportunities than if you are to keep quiet and shelter your very real life and very real past experiences from others.

I am a part of a mental health awareness group, and on Bell Let's Talk Day we launched a campaign about language. I taped a large sheet of recycled paper up on a wall and talked to students walking past, encouraging them to write down a positive message. The first few words and phrases that began to fill the wall were just as you might expect: hope, love, stay strong, you're beautiful, I believe in you. As more was added, less people stopped. A few students: "what I would have written was already on there. Someone stole mine!" I was smiling and pointing out that it's actually a positive thing if more people are thinking the same things. At least we're all being encouraging and on the same page. Sometimes all it takes is something small, and if everyone can think of those things easily, they should have no problem encouraging and supporting someone who is actually down and out or living with a mental illness. Some were very transparent, writing down their names and their struggles: anxiety, depression, bi-polar. I thanked each and every one who spoke to me and took a marker from my hand and pressed the tip to the wall. Several times I had to stop and add more paper. One student stopped by and took a marker from me, but looked lost in thought. I told him to take as long as he needed, if he was trying to think of something to write. Eventually he asked me what I had written. My contribution: Share your stories with others.

He smiled and asked if I would share mine with him right then. I hadn't exactly prepared for this, but I took a second to think. What parts are worth mentioning? When you're on the spot and the opportunity to share strikes, you don't want to bore anyone. And maybe to me, every single thing is important and shaped me, but what parts are going to be important to someone else? I glossed over the minor dramas and presented my recent life path and changes as a huge learning experience, where I ended up exactly where I felt I needed to be. I may not believe in higher purposes, but I certainly believe I found more of a purpose in my education and relationships now than in the past. He was attentive the whole time, nodding, "norming" by adding looks of surprise where appropriate. "I knew there was something about you. I never would have guessed you've done all that. Can I tell you my story?" And he did. And we were just standing in the hallway, talking about our deepest secrets for no reason other than to share the message that things sometimes work out in funny ways and isn't it interesting how we come out stronger in the end? (His story is amazing, by the way).

---

A graduate of my program came to speak to my class recently about her career growth since leaving the college. Many of my classmates asked questions about that process and what challenges she was met with, but a fraction of a sentence she had said much earlier in the hour, seemingly unrelated to the topic, was running around in my head. Her career sounded amazing, yes, but I wanted to talk to this woman about so much more. I'm not usually so charismatic or forward when it comes to talking to people, but I found myself in front of her at the end of the lecture time. "I'm not usually like this. I'm not normally a person who discloses a lot of personal information to someone they just met. But something you said made me want to ask you something." And just like that, I was sitting down with her and telling her so much that was inside of me, stuff I had never said to anyone else before. I learned a lot about her that I never would have guessed. We shared our stories together and exchanged numbers. She told me I could text her and rant if I ever needed to.

I don't know why I felt this deep desire to talk to her, but I'm glad I did. What I'm beginning to take away from these interactions with strangers is that it's deeply cathartic to let your troubles melt away with what I like to call a "third party." They aren't involved in what you're currently going through, and they weren't there when you went through everything else. They're not close enough to you to talk back and give you advice when all you need is a little bit of empathy and a squeeze on the shoulder. It's not that our best friends and significant others and spouses are unable to deliver this to us, but sometimes there's something else we need available in order to truly let go of what's haunting us. It's not about competition, or worrying about whether or not they'll change their opinion of you. These "third parties" simply let us be unabashedly ourselves.

I still feel the same as I did when it comes to having a bunch of friends. I'm not looking for a dozen people that I can dump my feels onto on a weekly basis. I have gained some control over my emotions so they aren't a leaky faucet of struggles and stories. But now when the opportunity to speak or write about my past comes up, I seldom pass it up.

Transparency ain't all bad.
Share your stories.

Who do I want to be?

It wouldn't be the beginning of 2015 without a contrived list of things I want to change about myself, now, would it?

Even with that joke made and out of the way, this is a serious question I've been desperately thinking I need to reflect on. I am sometimes accused of being the kind of person who caters more to the desires of others, often sacrificing my own thoughts and feelings. This isn't to say that I am spineless and will do anything to gain the approval of others; it's more that I am constantly giving to those I am close to, even at my own expense. I am most often a good listener and least often a good talker. I leave the excitement of sharing my passions to most other people, because I sort of live vicariously through their ambition. With the people I'm closest to, the light in their eyes when they talk about all of the things they want to achieve makes me deliriously happy for them. But I'm not entirely passive and disinterested in my own life. I have dreams and goals for my life, too. I'm just much more likely to keep it all to myself or share it with a journal. Human interaction gives me the heebie-jeebies sometimes.

I think first and foremost I need to address my current methods and intentions. I ask numerous questions about what people want because I am genuinely invested in their well-being, and offering all that I can to please or help them is my way of showing that I care. I tend to not be able to let things go, because I feel the need to "make extra sure" everything is okay. Sarah, honey, your insecurity is showing.

My second biggest flaw in handling the whole "I love you" thing is that I find a way to accept responsibility for nearly everything. I am aware that this is absolutely bat-shit crazy insane behaviour for a lovely young lady such as myself, but I find a way to rationalize it every single time. The worst part is that I don't even hate myself that much. I actually think I'm a lovely young lady with a lot to offer the world. It's too bad I waste all of my energy on apologies and finding a way to tell everyone, essentially, "I'm the worst!"

Phew. It's all in a day's work, and it's tiring.

Besides learning how to differentiate between fantasy, evil-bad-Sarah world and reality, and taking way less care of other adults, I need to learn how to become a sensational conversationalist. Or at least just tell people what I'm thinking some of the time (because we all know that setting absurd goals will almost definitely end in failure). Why the hell don't I make someone else's eyes sparkle and tear up by talking about my dreams? I'm important, too.

This is the good part! I would share virtual popcorn if I could, but I'm too lazy to even Google a picture. Insert imaginary or real popcorn here (I won't even be offended if you stop reading, get up, and pop some for yourself. Just come back, please!).

I want to tell you all about who I am and who I want to be.

I am a genuinely nice person. Sometimes I am too nice, to a fault: I will allow myself to be stepped on because I think being polite and hurt is sometimes better than being mean to make a point. I am going to stand up for myself more, because it's not okay for people who are doing wrong to not learn that their actions are hurting others or making others' lives more difficult. I don't have to be nice "no matter what." I usually have no problem speaking my mind, except when I'm confronted with a difficult situation in which I think my feelings are justified. I want to win back my strength in this area.

I'm too worried about whether or not I should speak on issues or topics I don't have much knowledge about. I usually operate strictly in a, "well, if I don't know, I shouldn't pretend I do" fashion. This means always admitting when I lack expertise in an area, which I always think of as a good thing. However, I can't learn from the conversations I don't have. If I always say, "I don't know," and don't try to speak, I'm no better or worse off than if I tried my best. I'm actually a pretty good and critical thinker, so there's no reason why I can't apply other principles to things I'm unfamiliar with. Some guy in Star Wars said something about trying and doing and not: you know. Important stuff like that. Plus, learning is great and you should all try it.

I'm a pessimist, and I'm in a perpetual state of worry, and my organs will probably explode because I rate everything that ever happens to me on a scale of 1-10 as a 10 (10 being "heart attack now, I can't breathe"). I have no professional diagnosis, but I wouldn't be surprised if I have some pretty serious anxiety problems. Maybe in 2015 I'll get a new doctor, who knows. But the point is that I need to alter my perspective of the world and what is going on around me. Even if the worst possible thing is happening, it will pass. I will pick up the pieces, and people will still love me, and life will eventually move on, or else adjust to any lasting effects. The world doesn't revolve around me, and not everything is the end of the world, and even the worst thing my amazing imagination could conjur up is not likely to occur. Those last two have become my mantra.

I'm a dreamer, and I do have a lot of ambition and things that I love. I don't think I like to talk about myself much because I don't think I'm that interesting and I don't want to seem arrogant. Okay, I realize that the people closest to me aren't going to get cheesed if I'm open with them. But it hurts me when people say they don't know me very well or think I really particularly care about things or that I don't know what I want out of life. I know it seems that way, and I didn't mean for it to be that way. I think about all of those things a lot and I feel like I have great answers to a lot of questions, I just get nervous when I'm put on the spot sometimes.

Are you ready for the paragraph of the century? I hope you kept some popcorn, because I'm about to compliment myself a whole bunch. It's going to be great.

I'm a creative person. I exercise this quality by noticing good designs and colour choices in all mediums of art, from page layouts to architecture. I can draw, paint, and use digital programs. I love to write almost more than anything in the world. I'm good at thinking critically, applying principles and concepts across a variety of areas, and recognizing patterns. I am improving my public speaking skills, and I know that soon I will be able to say that I am proud of how far I've come with this skill. (I'm actually already proud. All improvement is positive). I am capable of so much more than I give myself credit for. I have a unique perspective and I'm not afraid to be honest, even if it is harsh, blunt, or difficult for others to hear. I'm absolutely full of love (seriously, I'm like an overripe peach. The one that dribbles down your chin; a beautiful mess).

A friend gave me my very own copy of Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist for Christmas. It tells the beautiful story of a boy who realizes his Personal Legend (defined as "what you've always wanted to accomplish") and sets out on a journey to achieve it. Through his travels, he is tempted numerous times to simply give up and settle when things get too difficult. He has doubts and fears and wonders if it's actually worth some of the struggles he continues to encounter along the way. At one point, a prophet reveals what his future would look like if he didn't accomplish his goals, and it was a miserable existence. The main message is "when you really want something to happen, the whole universe conspires so that your wish comes true." I'm not necessarily naive enough to believe in things simply happening, but I believe that when you exhaust all your efforts and stay the course, there is never any reason why you can't have the things you want. You don't have to settle.

There are things that I want to have someday. I am going to persevere until I have those things, and there is no stopping me. If things seem like they're not going well, there is always another way. How neat is that?

I'm going to love myself enough for 22 years worth, because I've been slacking. I'm going to be stronger in my mind and in my will. I'm going to change the way I see the world and what is happening around me, lest I die young from some stressed-related illness.

So without further ado, since I took a lot of your time if you read this start to finish, I will leave you with this:

be so alive + happy
everything is lovely
i love you so much.

Sarah
(who is currently wearing men's underwear).

"I love you, however; you hold me down."

I found a letter that said:

"I'm sorry that you were asleep when I wrote these words down,"

You'd think I'd ought to be used to that by now.

Save for a few of those late night episodes,

Missed opportunities, and "I Don't Cares,"

There's not a lot that I feel obliged to share or talk about.

I'll have my brother stop by this Saturday to pick up my things,

Just make sure you're not there.

This may sound bad, and don't take it the wrong way..

I love you, however, 

You hold me down [x4]

You're the echoes of my everything,

You're the emptiness the whole world sings at night.

You're the laziness of afternoon,

You're the reason why I burst and why I bloom.

How will I break the news to you? [x2]

Cancel our dinner with Max and Coraline,

feed Jacky's gerbil and try to stay clean.

We'll talk it over after I've had some time alone to sort it out. 

You hold me down [x4]

You're the echoes of my everything,

You're the emptiness the whole world sings at night.

You're the laziness of afternoon,

You're the reason why I burst and why I bloom.

You're the leaky sink of sentiment,

You're the failed attempts I never could forget.

You're the metaphors I can't create to comprehend this curse that I call love..

How will I break the news to you? [x5]

The first time I heard this song, my brain tuned out the heartbreak. My ears picked up the compliments one lover may give to another, but refused to accept the pain that comes with loving someone at the wrong time or loving someone who is bad for you. I wanted it to be a love song that ended happily, even if I knew that wasn't the case. 

Every now and then I listen to this song on repeat a couple dozen times and feel myself wanting to cry until my face becomes physically sore. Because my life has improved so vastly over the recent year, my biggest fear is that someone I love would tell me that I hold them down. I know so many things that are wrong with me, and that isn't just insecurity speaking. I have an overactive imagination, to a fault. I sometimes live in a fantasy world where everything is worse than it truly is. I am so concerned with making things run smoothly that I will fuck up literally everything possible and more just trying to prevent the bad things from happening in the first place. I'm so afraid that anyone I've ever let in and allowed to love me will depart from my life with these exact sentiments: I love you, however; you hold me down. 

There is something great about being able to save yourself from unnecessary and avoidable sorrow. I admire people who are able to judge when something is not good for them any longer. I've done it before, and it's challenging, but everyone deserves to be around others who treat them with respect. I want the people in my life who are close to me to have that kind of skill and thought process when they find themselves faced with troubling relationships. I just never want to imagine that I'm the culprit, that I'm the person who is causing so much pain that my friendship is no longer providing a benefit that outweighs the cost. I don't want to be a burden. I don't want to make anyone cry. 

I will be the first person to say that going into anything with a pessimistic view will certainly turn things sour. If I imagine that the worst possible thing is likely to happen, it will become true. I am a walking self-fulfilled prophecy, and I imagine that from the outside I seem like I hate to be happy, I just worry a lot. I react poorly to most things, good and bad. I'm working on my faults, but they still hurt other people. Going through the process of change doesn't guarantee there will be no more tears. There are always going to be more tears. 

None of this knowledge stops me from thinking, "what if someone is holding onto these thoughts? What if I'm toxic? What if someone wants to let me go, but doesn't know how to say it?" 

These are the thoughts that keep me up at night, that make me seem sad when everything in the world is right. I'm afrraid I'm holding you down. 

What happened to us?

Writing this was not my intention when I sat down at my computer this evening. I actually wanted to play the Elder Scrolls Online, but I haven't for a few weeks and so I regret to say that it's updating: very slowly. Naturally, I lit a candle (candles make everything automatically at least sixty percent sexier). Then, like the boring 22 year old that I am, I hopped on Facebook to scroll until something mildly interesting caught my eye. And what should appear, shared by multiple people on my friend list, but this article titled 71 Reasons Why We're All F*cking Single. Couple that with my recent read of The Death of Adulthood in American Culture, and I came to a realization of sorts. It's not that I didn't notice before, but it became all too clear to ignore any longer that we are all very sad and very pathetic people when it comes to "growing up."

We've all seen the Tumblr text posts about being socially awkward and single. We laugh and we see ourselves in those words, those miniature stories, but we don't see the problem. We reblog and revel in our shared immaturity, our delight in never growing up. We'd rather watch Netflix and never change our clothes, leave the house, or get a job, than be met with the possibility that we might have to do something difficult. We concern ourselves with knowledge and topics that are so pointless and fleeting, and then we wonder why older generations look at us as lazy. We do everything that warrants the comments we hate, but we think everyone else is the problem and refuse to look at what we can change. People haven't heard of certain timeless authors, or other famous contributors to society as we know it - but we sure as hell know who's going to be on our fantasy football team, every new feature of the newest iPhone, what Ryan Gosling named his gosling, and every minute detail of the should-be-private going on's of the Duggar family.

"We’re worried about shattered iPhones more than ruined relationships. We don’t need to go out to movies when we have Netflix. We don’t need anyone because we’re perfectly content with ourselves."  ('71 Reasons' article)

Exact- wait, what? Why doesn't this bother anyone? Why should we be content with ourselves when we're basically all Homer Simpson? Don't we laugh at his character because he is someone who can't possibly exist? Maybe we all used to know a lazy person or two, but Homer was funny because it was always so exaggerated. But today, there is always someplace to be my Moe's, Boneshaker to be my Duff, and I honest to goodness feel like I'm getting dumber each day. I don't have to develop my social skills, because I bring my phone to the dinner table and answer any question from another human with the bare minimum, hardly looking away from Twitter or whatever else tickles my fancy. I don't read challenging material and learn anything, because I'm content with The Hunger Games and Divergent. I don't talk about the challenging themes in good films because I've only watched Frozen at least once every week since it came out.

Who, or what, can we blame? Technology? We're beyond blessed to have access to the information that we do, bcause there was a time when the family you were born into would dictate whether or not you had access to any education whatsoever. People are so amazing, don't you see? We invented ways to write things down, the printing press, the education system. We're creative and we've progressed so far. Now I just feel like we're taking innumerable steps back. Did we look at all of these things, shrug our shoulders and say, "oh, well, it's all already been done"? "Might as well sit back and just fucking cruise"?

If we take articles like 71 Reasons and the numerous other similar articles on sites like ThoughtCatalog, Huffington Post, Jezebel, EliteDaily, etc. seriously, like a lot of people do, we perpetuate the notion that people are supposed to remain childish. That you can keep living at home, that you don't have to work, that you don't have to worry about anyone but yourself. And while we may each be free to choose that life for ourselves, when did it become the ideal? Where is the drive, the independence, the passion, the desire for more for ourselves?

What is it that happens? When did "adult" become a curse word or insult? I've experienced it myself - you spend this number of years waiting to get to a certain age or stage of life, because you believe it will be the point where things get better. You can drive, you can drink, you can have your own place. You can do so much more than you once could, but it's always about something that's supposed to be coming next. And then somewhere along the path, we get - what? Complacent? Lazy? Unmotivated? All of the above? We get our parents to pay for our classes that we don't go to, and we don't work, and we bury ourselves deeper into our childhoods that we miss so dearly for some bizarre reason. To be entirely honest with all of you, I'm beyond embarrassed that I was formerly a baby. I dream of the day where I don't have debt, I don't have an excuse to sit around because I'm "just a student," and I don't have to share a space with people I don't necessarily want to be around other than to conveniently share the cost of rent.

I don't know what to do. I don't think there is only one way for people to live their lives, so I want to clear that I don't want to discount the choice that some people are making to not "settle down." But do I really believe we can defend our "reasons" for remaining children, albeit in slightly bigger clothing than we used to wear? No, I don't think it's enough to simply say, "because taking responsibility for the things that I have chosen as someone who is capable of abstract thought is totally lame." Freedom and responsbility, my friends; because if you're going to say that you're single for reasons like "no one wants to use a condom," and "you drink too much..." you better be ready to take accept the consequences. I don't believe  there is anything wrong with a bit of selfishness (see: Ayn Rand), but the brand we've developed is not the kind that I believe should be excused the way it has been.

i'm terrible at loving people

i don't typically lack empathy, but i am not a very compassionate person. when i was vegetarian, it wasn't because i thought animals were too cute to consume. i actually hate animals. i never want another pet in my life, if i can help it. i hate the sound of children crying. i really just hate children in general. i've tried to love and care for people with low self esteem, compulsions to self-mutilate, and feelings of anxiety. these are all vices i possess myself, but know that i can't even love me: how could i ever love someone who makes me feels like i'm looking into a darkened mirror? or is the room the mirror is in well-lit, so i canclearly see the outline and details of every single thing i hate? i've been the honest and blunt person before. i've been the friend people come to for advice. i've been the model girlfriend in a long-standing relationship, the people everyone said, "aw, you two are perfect for each other!" to. but remember, there's always so much more to someone than they reveal in the public. there's so much you don't see.

i'm not good. i'm terrible at loving anyone or anything.

if you ever hear the expression, "you can't love anyone until you learn to love yourself first," it's not a tired cliche. it's one of the truest things i've experienced. when you obsess over everything - from how big of a deal something is, to apologizing for things that aren't your fault, to imagining every worst possible outcome of a situation - you have nothing good to offer the people who love you. every opportunity you've had to make someone else happy is consumed by your obsession with yourself and how you feel. you feel bad, you feel evil, you feel like a shitty person. you feel like you messed up, you feel like things can't get any better, you feel hurt by your own mistakes. what about them?

maybe i'm worse at being empathetic than i first evaluated.

the worst part is that my concern with my own feelings isn't arrogance, at least not in the narcissistic way we're used to thinking the meaning of the word is, it's not that i'm over here thinking about how important i am. nothing about it is positive. but the very fact that i can't see past how badly i feel about pretty much my entire existence puts up a huge roadblock in any relationships i have: especially the closest ones. i used to think i had a good handle on my emotions, but i've realized more recently that i have no clue how to be an emotionally healthy human being. i used to feel like my privacy was invaded when people wanted me to be honest about what i was thinking and feeling, but any time i've been asked in the past - what if i had answered? what if i had given those things the time of day and worked on it, so that when it really mattered like it does now, i would be prepared? people always say practice makes perfect, but what the hell have i been doing? what if people really do just love me and want to be a part of my life, instead of having to halt at a sheet of glass between our hearts, holding their palms to it and looking in with pain and longing every time they want to get closer?

i've been angry with anyone who's ever said to me that i am a liar because i hold my feelings inside, locked up with the key thrown away. i usually just say, cheekily, "it's not lying, i just didn't say anything." see, i thought lying meant i said something that wasn't true. but by not saying a word, i've essentially said that everything is okay, when in reality most times it isn't - not one bit. i'm the girl who cries herself to sleep. i'm the girl who becomes irrational and can't explain why i'm angry. i'm the girl who holds onto everything and dumps it on you later. i'm the girl you really don't want to love, because it's a chore. it's a burden. it's cumbersome. you choose it, and i never know why, because i can't see anything good in myself. i see a liar and someone who is bad at giving any love back.

how do you love a person?

my ways are hallmarked by inconsistencies. my methods are likely seen as too small, too trivial. i think of people i love and i let them know. honestly, i will bring you a coffee or a sandwich every day. i hold tight and i never want to let go. i always give you my time. but when it comes down to the hard stuff, what really matters, i need all the help i can get. and most people who have tried to love me have the same criticism - i never seem happy. why would anyone want to bother with someone who seems like they can never be pleased?

gosh, sometimes i feel like i will burst with the amount of love i feel for some people. if i could wish on a shooting star, or pray to a god that truly exists, or own the monkey's paw, i'd ask to learn how to love. my ways aren't enough. the words get jumbled, the negative emotions i can't control come out, and the only thing i feel like i can do is press my hands or body close enough and hope that my love jumps across my skin to theirs. i'm not good at a lot of things, but i can get over that. i want desperately to be better at this one thing, because sometimes i really feel like my life depends on it. i would die penniless, but i wouldn't want to die without learning first how to love the people i do.

can this be the last night someone says to me, "i just worry if you do love me"? because i do, hell, i love you more than i love myself. that much is apparent. and maybe i had to write this out just to remind myself once again that i need to do that, i need to love me, too.

i don't believe much about the bible, but if i had to pick one thing, it's what love is. love is about being patient and kind, not holding onto what others do wrong to you. it's about forgiveness and not being angry without reason and not purposely hurting others. it's about promising to protect, trust, hope, and persevere. and it's always a choice. those who have ever chosen to love me? gosh, you're brave: but, thank you. you're teaching me every day how to improve.

breathe

*okay so this is meant to be a spoken word poem type of deal. It sounds way better when I say it out loud to myself and put the emphasis in the right spots. I might make a video of me reading it soon because for a 3am jumble of emotions, it turned out okay.*

breathe
ten seconds
that's all you need
because when you don't hold your breath,
words all go to your head
and you're dizzy that the thought of everything he said
just won't sink in, he's your linchpin
and now what if he goes?
now you're blinking back tears, incoherent
no self-esteem, you're already screaming
heart aching
so you stare at the wall, all sprawled out on his bed
you want to go home but so much would be left unsaid
oh god, can he feel it?
the love that you possess, like it can be passed
from your fingertip to his collarbone
it's so real and you hope to some god that it's known
it's all you want and you know without a doubt
hurting him, which you do, is the worst pain you've ever felt
but you've done worse, and you always do
every apology drags you deeper into an abyss
and you can't miss the fact that you've done this before
someone else you used to adore
and the same things keep coming up
"if you don't shape up, we'll break up
try harder, speak more, remember to breathe
listen to me"
something has to be wrong with you
it's like deja vu
and you used to play the card that goes
"it's not you, it's got to be me"
now you finally see, it has to be true
this is too close for comfort
you overexert but then again so does he
you feel like you can never win
you just need more discipline
god you're so fucking angry
"does he hate me?"
because he thinks you hate him
which is grim to think because you'd rather be dead
than break his stupid heart a second time
so sublime has your time together been
you don't want it to end over something so trivial
but it will, unless your bullshit becomes null
the next time you want to yell, take a second to dwell
on the reality that he loves you endlessly
he's honestly the best thing to happen in your life
and your anger is a knife cutting away every good thing
and your words, they sting and they're so rife
so remember to breathe instead of seething
let him feel your love and don't shove him away
ten seconds is all you need to convey
that you care and you swear you'll remember to breathe