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.