Picture it; you are at an important crossroads in your life, paralyzed by indecision, fear, frustration, sadness, and in your isolated silence you are visited by someone.
This person is a stranger to you, but you are clearly not a stranger to them. Not only recognition, but admiration is apparent in their eyes. The weight of the current situation muffles any alarm and you really only feel confused.
"Who are you?" You would naturally ask, to which the immediate response would be a grin finally breaking the dam of reverence.
"I have studied you. All of my life. I have read of you, viewed documentaries, theatrical adaptations of you, written essays, argued for you. I never dreamed that I would ever be in your presence."
More confusion. This person is clearly older than you.
"What have I done?"
An impish and simultaneously sympathetic half-smile belies a desire to reveal knowledge which is apparently forbidden.
"You...are you," is the cryptic answer.
Why have I constructed this visage? Hindsight has the upper hand in everything, but we do not have the luxury of seeing beyond that which we must travel through in our lives. We must be guided by our values and faith. We must never assume that our personal choices and decisions affect only ourselves, for we are all connected and eventually everything is effected, be the actions transmuted by emotion or logic. No matter who you are in society, there is more than just yourself.
Picture something else; you are granted access to a famous person in history at a time and place where they are solitary and in distress. Imagine their eyes, only seen by you before in antiquated photos, taking in your person in full color and reality. You know that they would marvel at what you have learned of them and the effects of this decision they are facing, but all you are allowed to offer is admiration and a little encouragement. This person, made larger than life through the magnification of fame and historical analysis, seems smaller than you imagined, and certainly more vulnerable. Before you is a simple human form.
We should take every day as a gift, every difficulty as an opportunity to learn and grow stronger. Our words are powerful and should be calculated. Impulse should not be ruling our actions, leading to the adoption of apathy in the face of inevitable shame.
If you feel that you are insignificant in the face of humanity, you are not. You were created for a reason. Living with intention is the only answer to cultural apathy, social depression, and economic corruption. We can be better.
Tuesday, August 27, 2019
Monday, August 5, 2019
What Would Jesus Do?
Hi! I'm back! I missed several days of blogging because of this and that. I was in one of my best friends' wedding on Friday, and another one of my best friends had her bridal shower yesterday, and I got to spend a lot of time with my family in between. I had a couple days of emotional difficulty because of my stagnant old situation...do I break up with my boyfriend and forge a new direction in my life for myself, or just settle into this quagmire of relative comfort? While I was attending the rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, and wedding, it seemed pretty darn clear to me that I should put myself on the path to extricate my life from my boyfriend's. It was clear as a bell, during the ceremony; "You have to do it. It's the way. Stop burying your head in the sand. Just push through it." This always seems painfully clear to me when I'm with family, church family, or situations which remind me how little I enjoy my boyfriend's family, or really anything involving him that isn't just himself. I am aware that you can build a successful marriage without the amiable merging of families, but I want an amiable merging of families. I want family heavily involved in our lives, in a healthy and supportive way.
Anyway, today. What would Jesus Do?
It's a simple question, often taught first to small children to teach them the importance of critical thinking involving the teachings of our faith. If we are to aspire to be like Christ, then we must ask ourselves what he would do in ordinary and extraordinary situations.
It continues to be an important question throughout all stages of life, and I have found it especially essential to push me through undesirable situations. It's very important to keep the desires of our Lord and Savior, and the love of our unconditionally loving God in our hearts.
That's pretty much what I wanted to say.
Anyway, today. What would Jesus Do?
It's a simple question, often taught first to small children to teach them the importance of critical thinking involving the teachings of our faith. If we are to aspire to be like Christ, then we must ask ourselves what he would do in ordinary and extraordinary situations.
It continues to be an important question throughout all stages of life, and I have found it especially essential to push me through undesirable situations. It's very important to keep the desires of our Lord and Savior, and the love of our unconditionally loving God in our hearts.
That's pretty much what I wanted to say.
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
More Sunny Than Most
'Tis a sunny morning! Though my throat is still sore and pains me, I believe that it is improving, and that is encouraging. For the first time in a long time, I'm blogging outside of my home (despite my intentions to do so since acquiring a more portable writing device)! My dear friend and writing/spiritual accountability partner invited me out for coffee, and I'm so happy to be on a writing date once again.
I can't say that I'm proud of myself for keeping up my daily writing, because I shy away from pride (too easily it becomes too much), but I am happy about it. I'm certainly far from disappointed in myself, and that's nice.
I went to work last night after having called out twice for being sick. I was happy to be getting back into my routine, but nervous about feeling infirm at work. That always makes me feel trapped and helpless, and then a sliver of panic/anxiety slides in, and depending on my emotional resistance, turns into a downward spiral into how I can't get my life together and I'm pathetic.
That kind of happened last night, and I was able to get a sympathetic coworker to cover for me so I could go out to my car and call my mom/completely fall apart. My mom is amazing and she talked me through everything that I had been bottling up inside. I had promised myself while walking out to my car that I would be honest about my feelings instead of sugarcoating my breakdown they way I normally do because I feel bad about breaking down. And I was honest. And I let it all out. My parents were sympathetic and comforting but firm and not pandering. The way they always are, because they're wonderful. And then I felt better, and the rest of my shift was better.
Basically, I just needed to breathe and unravel the knotted up perception of everything happening in my life, both personally and peripherally. That's what happens in my mind when I get overwhelmed. Upcoming events, obligations, items of worry are all along a line of string that gets twisted and twisted until it becomes all knotted up, and that's not fair - to me or to the things.
I forget to take things one at a time when my mind tries to process everything at once, and it's frustrating to do things one at a time when my brain refuses to think that way.
Also I'm simultaneously having a ridiculously complex and fantastic conversation with my friend and this blog post needs a period.
It's been sunny lately, but today it seems more so.
I can't say that I'm proud of myself for keeping up my daily writing, because I shy away from pride (too easily it becomes too much), but I am happy about it. I'm certainly far from disappointed in myself, and that's nice.
I went to work last night after having called out twice for being sick. I was happy to be getting back into my routine, but nervous about feeling infirm at work. That always makes me feel trapped and helpless, and then a sliver of panic/anxiety slides in, and depending on my emotional resistance, turns into a downward spiral into how I can't get my life together and I'm pathetic.
That kind of happened last night, and I was able to get a sympathetic coworker to cover for me so I could go out to my car and call my mom/completely fall apart. My mom is amazing and she talked me through everything that I had been bottling up inside. I had promised myself while walking out to my car that I would be honest about my feelings instead of sugarcoating my breakdown they way I normally do because I feel bad about breaking down. And I was honest. And I let it all out. My parents were sympathetic and comforting but firm and not pandering. The way they always are, because they're wonderful. And then I felt better, and the rest of my shift was better.
Basically, I just needed to breathe and unravel the knotted up perception of everything happening in my life, both personally and peripherally. That's what happens in my mind when I get overwhelmed. Upcoming events, obligations, items of worry are all along a line of string that gets twisted and twisted until it becomes all knotted up, and that's not fair - to me or to the things.
I forget to take things one at a time when my mind tries to process everything at once, and it's frustrating to do things one at a time when my brain refuses to think that way.
Also I'm simultaneously having a ridiculously complex and fantastic conversation with my friend and this blog post needs a period.
It's been sunny lately, but today it seems more so.
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
For What It's Worth
It's been a long time since I felt the need to truly "rant an awkward emotion," as I originally intended for this blog. That in itself is a mixed bag, but, hey, I'm feeling some things right now that I really don't like, so I'm going to try to get it all out.
I'm incredibly creative, and I always have been. It's the basis of my perception and it's more than interwoven into the nature of my being; it is the nature of my being. My favorite thing to do with other humans is to collaborate creatively, some way. It doesn't always come off that way, because I can also be very private and nervous about sharing my ideas, aspirations, and projects. Sometimes it's more comfortable for me to listen, enjoy, and encourage.
I also have abandonment issues. I don't really know what from; my parents are still together and they never left me, so I don't know. Maybe there's a memory that has yet to be uncovered. I have a very aggressive anxiety about being left - whether it's left out, left alone, or simply not thought of. There have been many times in my life wherein my feelings were deeply hurt because I was left out of something.
Is it narcissism? Is it, a "ME, ME, ME!" egocentric attitude? On some level, I've always assumed so, and as soon as I became self-aware of such things, I tried to stuff that crap down and either deal with the underlying issue or cope with the "abandonment" with solitary hobbies. On the one hand, developing solitary hobbies really made me grow and gave me joy. On the other hand, because engaging in those solitary activities was just the superficial coping with feeling left out, some cherished memories of the high points of those hobbies/activities are forever interlaced with the poisonous feeling of hurt and loneliness. It's difficult not to be bitter when recalling those moments, but most of the time I use a combination of exposure therapy and focusing on the good parts of those moments.
That said, I've done plenty of work on my personality to both communicate that I want to spend time with other humans, and to accept when other humans choose not to spend time with me.
THAT said, it still really freaking hurts when people who have known me for a while and know me well, do things with other people that they should know that I would love to do! IT REALLY FREAKING HURTS!
There are some things in my past that I've been able to let go of, but there are also things in my past that still hurt (and admittedly I prod at them from time to time just to see if they still sting) as freshly as if they just happened. And there are new things every day that I must process into my process.
It's difficult not to be angry with myself for not being more accessible, friendly, outgoing, engaging, etc, until I'm angry with everything that makes me unique, and then why bother? The truth is that I like me. I like that I'm not a sunflower blossom all the time and I can be randomly cranky. Some of the people I have loved most dearly in my life have been randomly cranky and salty and I felt honored to be in the inner circle enough to be grouched at. I mean, you have to be really confident about someone's place in your life to be grouchy with them and then not be endlessly apologetic about it.
"Why didn't you ask me to be involved?"
"Why didn't you listen to me when I was the one that gave you that piece of advice?"
"Why didn't you want to do that with me?"
"Why doesn't anyone ever feel the need to publicly lift me up on social media?"
"Why do other women inspire such passion in their men and I don't?"
"Why do I care?" becomes the question. I don't want to become entirely apathetic, but apathy has been a friend to me in situations where the answers to these painful questions just land in self-pity, and self-pity is the quagmire of the devil. The more we're feeling sorry for ourselves, the less we're feeling for God and for each other.
I still really wish that I could inspire creative epiphanies, and that someone would love me enough to declare it publicly and would do anything to intertwine our lives.
I really, really, really HATE being stuck where I am. I'm nobody. I'm unremarkable. I'm outshined by women who are everything I wish I could be but are ultimately terrible girlfriends. I do my best and it is frequently not enough.
Yikes. This rant isn't purging. It's backwashing and causing me to dwell on these feelings instead of cycling them out. Ugh. I feel sort of worse than when I started out, BUT I'm going to end this blog post and flush out what I can.
That's what this blog is for, and I'm embracing it. We should all rant our awkward emotions, and we should all rave our uplifting moments. For what it's worth, I like me, and I can appreciate being backstage instead of in the spotlight, but I do need some sunlight sometimes. Everyone needs their vitamin D.
I'm incredibly creative, and I always have been. It's the basis of my perception and it's more than interwoven into the nature of my being; it is the nature of my being. My favorite thing to do with other humans is to collaborate creatively, some way. It doesn't always come off that way, because I can also be very private and nervous about sharing my ideas, aspirations, and projects. Sometimes it's more comfortable for me to listen, enjoy, and encourage.
I also have abandonment issues. I don't really know what from; my parents are still together and they never left me, so I don't know. Maybe there's a memory that has yet to be uncovered. I have a very aggressive anxiety about being left - whether it's left out, left alone, or simply not thought of. There have been many times in my life wherein my feelings were deeply hurt because I was left out of something.
Is it narcissism? Is it, a "ME, ME, ME!" egocentric attitude? On some level, I've always assumed so, and as soon as I became self-aware of such things, I tried to stuff that crap down and either deal with the underlying issue or cope with the "abandonment" with solitary hobbies. On the one hand, developing solitary hobbies really made me grow and gave me joy. On the other hand, because engaging in those solitary activities was just the superficial coping with feeling left out, some cherished memories of the high points of those hobbies/activities are forever interlaced with the poisonous feeling of hurt and loneliness. It's difficult not to be bitter when recalling those moments, but most of the time I use a combination of exposure therapy and focusing on the good parts of those moments.
That said, I've done plenty of work on my personality to both communicate that I want to spend time with other humans, and to accept when other humans choose not to spend time with me.
THAT said, it still really freaking hurts when people who have known me for a while and know me well, do things with other people that they should know that I would love to do! IT REALLY FREAKING HURTS!
There are some things in my past that I've been able to let go of, but there are also things in my past that still hurt (and admittedly I prod at them from time to time just to see if they still sting) as freshly as if they just happened. And there are new things every day that I must process into my process.
It's difficult not to be angry with myself for not being more accessible, friendly, outgoing, engaging, etc, until I'm angry with everything that makes me unique, and then why bother? The truth is that I like me. I like that I'm not a sunflower blossom all the time and I can be randomly cranky. Some of the people I have loved most dearly in my life have been randomly cranky and salty and I felt honored to be in the inner circle enough to be grouched at. I mean, you have to be really confident about someone's place in your life to be grouchy with them and then not be endlessly apologetic about it.
"Why didn't you ask me to be involved?"
"Why didn't you listen to me when I was the one that gave you that piece of advice?"
"Why didn't you want to do that with me?"
"Why doesn't anyone ever feel the need to publicly lift me up on social media?"
"Why do other women inspire such passion in their men and I don't?"
"Why do I care?" becomes the question. I don't want to become entirely apathetic, but apathy has been a friend to me in situations where the answers to these painful questions just land in self-pity, and self-pity is the quagmire of the devil. The more we're feeling sorry for ourselves, the less we're feeling for God and for each other.
I still really wish that I could inspire creative epiphanies, and that someone would love me enough to declare it publicly and would do anything to intertwine our lives.
I really, really, really HATE being stuck where I am. I'm nobody. I'm unremarkable. I'm outshined by women who are everything I wish I could be but are ultimately terrible girlfriends. I do my best and it is frequently not enough.
Yikes. This rant isn't purging. It's backwashing and causing me to dwell on these feelings instead of cycling them out. Ugh. I feel sort of worse than when I started out, BUT I'm going to end this blog post and flush out what I can.
That's what this blog is for, and I'm embracing it. We should all rant our awkward emotions, and we should all rave our uplifting moments. For what it's worth, I like me, and I can appreciate being backstage instead of in the spotlight, but I do need some sunlight sometimes. Everyone needs their vitamin D.
Monday, July 22, 2019
Writing in an Empty Forest
Why do we write?
(We're gonna ramble today.)
Stories originally told verbally were used to either educate or inspire. Storytellers of the tribe were honored with their people's traditions and lessons.
It became more.
Speaking became writing, the stories and lessons multiplied, and people (eventually) became empowered with control over their educations and imaginations.
Two thousand years later...why do we write?
As a society, why does any individual person write?
What is an unexamined life, as a worst case scenario? What is an unrecorded thought? It is thought, and then it is gone. When it is forgotten, did it ever exist? As they say, when a tree falls in a forest and no one is there, does it make a sound?
If a person lives their entire life thinking thoughts that they never write down, and then dies, what happens to all of those thoughts? Did they ever exist?
Of course the tree makes a sound; of course those thoughts existed. The mind bending nature of those questions seeks to gaslight the subject. Why wouldn't the tree make a sound? The existence of sounds does not depend on whether or not they are heard. The existence of thoughts does not depend on whether or not they are remembered. There's a darker, more sinister side to the implications of the questions, as well. The frailty and mortality of humanity lurks within. We have finite senses and finite lives. We cannot experience everything, and everything ends. Oblivion is terrifying. "I think, therefore I am." What are we without our thoughts? What are we if we cannot think?
Why do we write?
Is it the validation? Is it the permanence?
Let's turn this circle of thought into a sphere.
God created us in His image. As a reflection, we might emulate the act of creating. God spoke, and so we speak. "So it was written..." And so we write. That, of course, could lead to the next question, and it is for each of us to answer.
Do we write to glorify God or to glorify ourselves?
Why do we write? Is the need to affirm our existence and staple down a form of immortality just the beginning? Is the next step to proverbially complete the Tower of Babel and reach the heavens to face God - even surpass Him?
Are we serving God or are we trying to become a god?
Why do you write?
(We're gonna ramble today.)
Stories originally told verbally were used to either educate or inspire. Storytellers of the tribe were honored with their people's traditions and lessons.
It became more.
Speaking became writing, the stories and lessons multiplied, and people (eventually) became empowered with control over their educations and imaginations.
Two thousand years later...why do we write?
As a society, why does any individual person write?
What is an unexamined life, as a worst case scenario? What is an unrecorded thought? It is thought, and then it is gone. When it is forgotten, did it ever exist? As they say, when a tree falls in a forest and no one is there, does it make a sound?
If a person lives their entire life thinking thoughts that they never write down, and then dies, what happens to all of those thoughts? Did they ever exist?
Of course the tree makes a sound; of course those thoughts existed. The mind bending nature of those questions seeks to gaslight the subject. Why wouldn't the tree make a sound? The existence of sounds does not depend on whether or not they are heard. The existence of thoughts does not depend on whether or not they are remembered. There's a darker, more sinister side to the implications of the questions, as well. The frailty and mortality of humanity lurks within. We have finite senses and finite lives. We cannot experience everything, and everything ends. Oblivion is terrifying. "I think, therefore I am." What are we without our thoughts? What are we if we cannot think?
Why do we write?
Is it the validation? Is it the permanence?
Let's turn this circle of thought into a sphere.
God created us in His image. As a reflection, we might emulate the act of creating. God spoke, and so we speak. "So it was written..." And so we write. That, of course, could lead to the next question, and it is for each of us to answer.
Do we write to glorify God or to glorify ourselves?
Why do we write? Is the need to affirm our existence and staple down a form of immortality just the beginning? Is the next step to proverbially complete the Tower of Babel and reach the heavens to face God - even surpass Him?
Are we serving God or are we trying to become a god?
Why do you write?
Saturday, July 20, 2019
Hacking, Bronchial, and Unrelenting
...is this cough. Physically, I am no longer sustaining a fever, however my throat is still sore and I am still coughing deeply. It's incredibly annoying, to say the least. On Thursday, I left work early to go to urgent care and get checked out. The doctor believed that I did not have strep and that my tonsils were fine. She said that there is a possibility that I did have strep, but my body kicked it and everything else is residual. She also offered the possibility that I'm developing laryngitis. She advised that I use over the counter drugs for seasonal allergies, as well as a saltwater wash for my throat, and to come back if things don't get any better.
I felt ok about that, got some meds, and prepared to go to work the next day. However, when I woke up I still felt pretty awful, so I called out. I hate doing that, but I forgave myself before I became too angry. I rested plenty, but the coughing and sore throat has been consisting. I didn't even try to blog yesterday because I just wanted to rest. I was really hoping to wake up feeling better this morning.
I woke up around 3am to my throat hurting like crazy. I couldn't stop coughing - the hacking, bronchial coughs that came from deep down and burned my chest. I took some ibuprofen and allergy meds, and it took me about an hour to get back to sleep.
When I woke up again several hours later, nothing much had changed. I contacted friends with who I had made plans this weekend to let them know that my health was compromised, and hunkered down on the couch for more sleep.
Ugh. This weekend is already whizzing by, and there's still a lot to take care of for upcoming events. It's stressing me out a little, but not overwhelmingly so.
I'll just take it day by day, praying all way.
I felt ok about that, got some meds, and prepared to go to work the next day. However, when I woke up I still felt pretty awful, so I called out. I hate doing that, but I forgave myself before I became too angry. I rested plenty, but the coughing and sore throat has been consisting. I didn't even try to blog yesterday because I just wanted to rest. I was really hoping to wake up feeling better this morning.
I woke up around 3am to my throat hurting like crazy. I couldn't stop coughing - the hacking, bronchial coughs that came from deep down and burned my chest. I took some ibuprofen and allergy meds, and it took me about an hour to get back to sleep.
When I woke up again several hours later, nothing much had changed. I contacted friends with who I had made plans this weekend to let them know that my health was compromised, and hunkered down on the couch for more sleep.
Ugh. This weekend is already whizzing by, and there's still a lot to take care of for upcoming events. It's stressing me out a little, but not overwhelmingly so.
I'll just take it day by day, praying all way.
Thursday, July 18, 2019
I took some Nyquil Last Night Because My Throat Still Really Hurts and I'm Coughing a Lot
I'm still a little messed up but I'm still going to work tonight.
Still the twilight
still the orange-drenched, smoky tease of night
Quiet the moment
quiet the wild delight
slow slow
we move
pull back and wait
hold fast to those elusive, fleeting, shards of joy
twirl the dress, twirls
it gets caught in time
it is soft and cool and calming
it is never mine
marvel at the tune of sorrow
cries the lender, "always borrow!"
still the twilight, plant the seed
we crave for want and need for need
Still the twilight
still the orange-drenched, smoky tease of night
Quiet the moment
quiet the wild delight
slow slow
we move
pull back and wait
hold fast to those elusive, fleeting, shards of joy
twirl the dress, twirls
it gets caught in time
it is soft and cool and calming
it is never mine
marvel at the tune of sorrow
cries the lender, "always borrow!"
still the twilight, plant the seed
we crave for want and need for need
Wednesday, July 17, 2019
Blog Post #whatever
I'm feeling slightly better than yesterday! I'm a little nervous about how work will go today, but I just need to not push myself too hard and be aware of how I'm feeling. I have quite the packed weekend ahead of me; plenty of driving and some physical labor. I really want to be at full capacity for these things.
Blah blah blah.
Let's talk about dreams.
On the other hand, perhaps we should not talk about dreams. I just typed out a bunch of stuff about some of my recent dreams, deleted it, typed out some more stuff, deleted it, typed up some more stuff, and deleted that. I guess I'm not totally ready to share my dreams on a public blog. I'm extraordinarily private about my writing, and even more so about my dreams - especially the ones which cause me the most terror, sorrow, and joy. These are the most revealing dreams. These are the dreams which leave a lasting emotion within me - they are educational. I am meant to carry the answer I've received to a question I've been asking myself.
I just realized that I'm still talking about dreams. So we can still talk about dreams. I like this thought stream.
I'm a big believer that humans are mostly able to answer their own questions. We were made with agency of will, intelligence, and cognitive thought. We are natural problem-solvers. That said, we were also made with some "safety features," for the purpose of avoiding unpleasant feelings such as pain and fear. Some may consider these to be our primitive instincts for survival. These instincts largely operate at an unconscious level, and are automatic. Ironically, it takes awareness to realize that these instincts are even there, and even more awareness to understand what triggers them. The next step is deciding whether or not they are necessary, and if they are found to be unnecessary, subverting them. Ideally this would open up a whole world of opportunity for yourself. Being in tune with yourself, the world, and other humans is a gift, but removing the safety feature (i.e. the filter) also means being open to all of the inevitable suffering that exists. Honestly, both ignorance and knowledge lead to pain. That's just being human. Thank you, original sin.
What does this have to do with questions and answers in dreams?
Modern adult decision-making has less to do with simplistic survival and more often than not involves conscious choices aligning ourselves with moral and ethical implications. In other words, in this day and age, everything means something. EVERYTHING MEANS SOMETHING. Everything you do is a decision that says something about your beliefs and/or morality center.
Again, get back to thing about dreams?
Deep down inside, we KNOW what is right and what is wrong. WE KNOW. This is usually buried under the noise and clutter of comfortable modern living and the consequential atrophied decision-making (marketing in mainstream media saturates everything and tells us how to live and prioritize - it's a current that will take us down the entire river of life if we let it). That said, we also know what we want and do not want deep down, but our innate filters and safety features will prevent us from consciously realizing the truth. Truth is pain. It's uncomfortable. Asking yourself questions does nothing if you don't truly wish to know the answer.
Enter the realm of dreaming.
There are many schools of thought on dreams. I myself have multiple theories and beliefs about dreams which involve both spirituality and science. Scientifically, it is generally agreed that dreaming is essentially neurological garbage disposal. It's your brain taking out the trash. On the psychological side, dream analysts will purport that all dreams follow basic thematic elements, and these all have different meanings, from which you can glean knowledge about your current situation. I believe both of these things. What happens when you clean out piles of clutter? You find things - things you may not even have realized were there or even existed. It is the same with your brain. Cleaning offers discovery. One of the safety features of the human brain (which can cause insanity when coupled with intense denial and trauma, but that can be expounded upon in a separate blog post) is that when there is unprecedented essence and it doesn't quite know how to categorize it, the problem-solver sometimes jumps in to help. The problem-solver translates this essence into known precedents so as to be familiar and comfortable.
I attempt to digress.
Your brain's trash man wants to help. Honesty goes a long way in helping him to help you. The more honest you can be with yourself and others, the more honest your brain can be with you, and the easier it is to figure things out in life.
Thoughts?
Blah blah blah.
Let's talk about dreams.
On the other hand, perhaps we should not talk about dreams. I just typed out a bunch of stuff about some of my recent dreams, deleted it, typed out some more stuff, deleted it, typed up some more stuff, and deleted that. I guess I'm not totally ready to share my dreams on a public blog. I'm extraordinarily private about my writing, and even more so about my dreams - especially the ones which cause me the most terror, sorrow, and joy. These are the most revealing dreams. These are the dreams which leave a lasting emotion within me - they are educational. I am meant to carry the answer I've received to a question I've been asking myself.
I just realized that I'm still talking about dreams. So we can still talk about dreams. I like this thought stream.
I'm a big believer that humans are mostly able to answer their own questions. We were made with agency of will, intelligence, and cognitive thought. We are natural problem-solvers. That said, we were also made with some "safety features," for the purpose of avoiding unpleasant feelings such as pain and fear. Some may consider these to be our primitive instincts for survival. These instincts largely operate at an unconscious level, and are automatic. Ironically, it takes awareness to realize that these instincts are even there, and even more awareness to understand what triggers them. The next step is deciding whether or not they are necessary, and if they are found to be unnecessary, subverting them. Ideally this would open up a whole world of opportunity for yourself. Being in tune with yourself, the world, and other humans is a gift, but removing the safety feature (i.e. the filter) also means being open to all of the inevitable suffering that exists. Honestly, both ignorance and knowledge lead to pain. That's just being human. Thank you, original sin.
What does this have to do with questions and answers in dreams?
Modern adult decision-making has less to do with simplistic survival and more often than not involves conscious choices aligning ourselves with moral and ethical implications. In other words, in this day and age, everything means something. EVERYTHING MEANS SOMETHING. Everything you do is a decision that says something about your beliefs and/or morality center.
Again, get back to thing about dreams?
Deep down inside, we KNOW what is right and what is wrong. WE KNOW. This is usually buried under the noise and clutter of comfortable modern living and the consequential atrophied decision-making (marketing in mainstream media saturates everything and tells us how to live and prioritize - it's a current that will take us down the entire river of life if we let it). That said, we also know what we want and do not want deep down, but our innate filters and safety features will prevent us from consciously realizing the truth. Truth is pain. It's uncomfortable. Asking yourself questions does nothing if you don't truly wish to know the answer.
Enter the realm of dreaming.
There are many schools of thought on dreams. I myself have multiple theories and beliefs about dreams which involve both spirituality and science. Scientifically, it is generally agreed that dreaming is essentially neurological garbage disposal. It's your brain taking out the trash. On the psychological side, dream analysts will purport that all dreams follow basic thematic elements, and these all have different meanings, from which you can glean knowledge about your current situation. I believe both of these things. What happens when you clean out piles of clutter? You find things - things you may not even have realized were there or even existed. It is the same with your brain. Cleaning offers discovery. One of the safety features of the human brain (which can cause insanity when coupled with intense denial and trauma, but that can be expounded upon in a separate blog post) is that when there is unprecedented essence and it doesn't quite know how to categorize it, the problem-solver sometimes jumps in to help. The problem-solver translates this essence into known precedents so as to be familiar and comfortable.
I attempt to digress.
Your brain's trash man wants to help. Honesty goes a long way in helping him to help you. The more honest you can be with yourself and others, the more honest your brain can be with you, and the easier it is to figure things out in life.
Thoughts?
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
Stuff Happening
This summer is chock full of things happening. Unfortunately because of my work schedule which is opposite of most of my friends and family, I can't always immediately envision my ability to attend functions and/or further commit my productive contribution. That causes me a fair bit of anxiety and frustration, but as with everything else, I'm working on that bit by bit instead of letting it overwhelm and paralyze me.
Having to remind myself that I'm an adult and that I "should" be able to handle things at a certain level used to just make be feel inadequate and ashamed, but I have learned how to amend that reminder. As an adult, things in my life will likely not be accomplished unless I do the necessary work. Therefore, I just have to keep things moving, do what I can, and push through the mud. The worst thing I can do is to stop and panic. The reminder has thusly transmuted into a gentle adjustment back onto the rail and a breeze to blow away those pesky storm clouds of nonsense. It's been largely successful.
Identifying my own limitations used to feel like highlighting my weaknesses, but even that can be useful with a positive perspective. It's not about saying, "I can't do this," it's about problem-solving and troubleshooting the obstacles between you and and the task. Knowledge is power, and you don't know what you have to do without knowing what your difficulty is.
Today is my day off, and I have been feeling very ill since Sunday night. I didn't blog yesterday because I worked a double Sunday night. I got home at 8am yesterday morning, went right to bed, unfortunately didn't get much or quality sleep, and then had to go to work again at the normal time. That wasn't the first time I've done this, but it was the first time I did it while feeling physically compromised and on such little sleep. It was rough. I'm still feeling sick and half the day has slipped away from me without getting anything done on my to do list.
That's ok. I'm going to do what I can, take care of myself, and feel good about it.
There's a lot of stuff happening in the next few weeks, but I feel good about it, despite the fact that I physically feel bad.
Having to remind myself that I'm an adult and that I "should" be able to handle things at a certain level used to just make be feel inadequate and ashamed, but I have learned how to amend that reminder. As an adult, things in my life will likely not be accomplished unless I do the necessary work. Therefore, I just have to keep things moving, do what I can, and push through the mud. The worst thing I can do is to stop and panic. The reminder has thusly transmuted into a gentle adjustment back onto the rail and a breeze to blow away those pesky storm clouds of nonsense. It's been largely successful.
Identifying my own limitations used to feel like highlighting my weaknesses, but even that can be useful with a positive perspective. It's not about saying, "I can't do this," it's about problem-solving and troubleshooting the obstacles between you and and the task. Knowledge is power, and you don't know what you have to do without knowing what your difficulty is.
Today is my day off, and I have been feeling very ill since Sunday night. I didn't blog yesterday because I worked a double Sunday night. I got home at 8am yesterday morning, went right to bed, unfortunately didn't get much or quality sleep, and then had to go to work again at the normal time. That wasn't the first time I've done this, but it was the first time I did it while feeling physically compromised and on such little sleep. It was rough. I'm still feeling sick and half the day has slipped away from me without getting anything done on my to do list.
That's ok. I'm going to do what I can, take care of myself, and feel good about it.
There's a lot of stuff happening in the next few weeks, but I feel good about it, despite the fact that I physically feel bad.
Sunday, July 14, 2019
Quiet Sundays
I truly relish the tranquil moments of weekend mornings when it feels like the only other people who are awake and about are of the same mindset as me - they are excited to get things accomplished early in the day so the rest of it can be spent relaxing and enjoying good company. In the quiet, there is promise and possibility, and perhaps because I am grateful for such moments, it seems the whole world sighs with gratitude.
I appreciated such moments before, but now doubly so ever since I began working second shift. My job claimed my evenings, but it freed up my mornings and early afternoons. If I go to bed right after I get home at midnight, I am able to wake up early enough the next day that I can accomplish much before I leave for my next shift. I have successfully been able to hew out some really good habits of pre-work chores every day, and that has done much to edify my mental health and consequential effectiveness at my job.
One thing that I need to get back into the habit of doing, which has been shamefully lacking in my life, is attending church every week. Even on the Sundays that I work it would be possible to attend. I know this, and I even want this, but the nature of my weird personality makes it difficult to first dig into what would become a groove of a good habit. I'm not making excuses. If anything, I can be overcritical of myself, leading to further paralytic anxiety/shame, and that is just counterproductive. I have learned that I must be firm with myself, yes, but I must also be patient with myself. Turning maintenance/chores into rewards has been monumental in "fixing" my life. After all, maintaining things and taking care of your home is a reward - it's the reward of love and peace of mind. You must first love yourself before you can love others. I love the brick house parable - if you keep giving bricks away while you are building your house then it will never get done and you are denying shelter to yourself and others, but if you build your house you can then offer more to those who need it. It's so important to keep that in mind.
And that's my blog post. This has been another rambling for the sake of words.
What are your thoughts? Is there anything you would like to read more about? Discussed more about? Let me know!
I appreciated such moments before, but now doubly so ever since I began working second shift. My job claimed my evenings, but it freed up my mornings and early afternoons. If I go to bed right after I get home at midnight, I am able to wake up early enough the next day that I can accomplish much before I leave for my next shift. I have successfully been able to hew out some really good habits of pre-work chores every day, and that has done much to edify my mental health and consequential effectiveness at my job.
One thing that I need to get back into the habit of doing, which has been shamefully lacking in my life, is attending church every week. Even on the Sundays that I work it would be possible to attend. I know this, and I even want this, but the nature of my weird personality makes it difficult to first dig into what would become a groove of a good habit. I'm not making excuses. If anything, I can be overcritical of myself, leading to further paralytic anxiety/shame, and that is just counterproductive. I have learned that I must be firm with myself, yes, but I must also be patient with myself. Turning maintenance/chores into rewards has been monumental in "fixing" my life. After all, maintaining things and taking care of your home is a reward - it's the reward of love and peace of mind. You must first love yourself before you can love others. I love the brick house parable - if you keep giving bricks away while you are building your house then it will never get done and you are denying shelter to yourself and others, but if you build your house you can then offer more to those who need it. It's so important to keep that in mind.
And that's my blog post. This has been another rambling for the sake of words.
What are your thoughts? Is there anything you would like to read more about? Discussed more about? Let me know!
Saturday, July 13, 2019
Working Saturday
It's a tad frustrating that the Saturday I have to go into work is a beautiful day, but I'm grateful for both the gorgeous weather and my job. On a beautiful morning like this, I my mind usually gets stopped up with different ideas of what to do desperately bottle necking. I'm doing a better job of organizing my tasks and projects, so it's less overwhelming than it used to be, but it would be really nice to have all of my weekends back. Having every other weekend free gets difficult in the summer when there's always something going on and friends/family are constantly having celebrations.
Am I complaining about a full social calendar?
I should probably chill.
I'm really happy to have a job with a flexible enough schedule that if I have NOTHING going on, I can pick up extra shifts and make some overtime money. It's just emotionally exhausting to work overtime at that place.
Anyway, as long as I am sure to live in the moment and breathe in this wonderful summer morning before going off to work, I can feel partially accomplished in that I completed my bare minimum maintenance and self-care. Taking each day slowly and thoroughly is an important ingredient in the recipe for a content existence - in my humble opinion. That could also be my completionist impulses and attitude, but that is neither here nor there.
As you could probably tell, this is another blog post wherein I am writing just to write something today. As daily writing needs to be a point of my bare minimum maintenance, it serves my self-care. It's interesting to note that I began this blog because I felt like I couldn't talk to anyone, I felt trapped, useless, pointless, frustrated, and hopelessly depressed. Now, because of a fantastic support system starring my parents and a few choice fantastic friends, mental health treatment of medication and cognitive behavioral therapy, A LOT of prayer, and proverbially treading water (keeping myself afloat and refusing to sink), I am in an exponentially better situation.
I will forever need to rant my awkward emotions, but I am grateful that this blog is no longer the sole outlet for my feelings. Just reflecting on where I was geographically, professionally, and emotionally when I began this blog makes me shudder. It's as if I were once trapped in a deep cavern that was filling with water and I was in danger of either drowning or hypothermia - whichever got me first. The past feels as scary, said, dark, and cold as that (thankfully) nonexistent scenario. What can I do with that? Carry it with me and use it to inform future decisions and use it to inform compassionate responses to those suffering the same.
Everything we suffer can be used as a resource, as long as we absorb the lessons. That's how we can leave the pain behind - by making it work for us; making it worth it. What are your thoughts? What's the worst thing that has happened to you, and how can you be grateful for that experience?
Thanks for reading!
Am I complaining about a full social calendar?
I should probably chill.
I'm really happy to have a job with a flexible enough schedule that if I have NOTHING going on, I can pick up extra shifts and make some overtime money. It's just emotionally exhausting to work overtime at that place.
Anyway, as long as I am sure to live in the moment and breathe in this wonderful summer morning before going off to work, I can feel partially accomplished in that I completed my bare minimum maintenance and self-care. Taking each day slowly and thoroughly is an important ingredient in the recipe for a content existence - in my humble opinion. That could also be my completionist impulses and attitude, but that is neither here nor there.
As you could probably tell, this is another blog post wherein I am writing just to write something today. As daily writing needs to be a point of my bare minimum maintenance, it serves my self-care. It's interesting to note that I began this blog because I felt like I couldn't talk to anyone, I felt trapped, useless, pointless, frustrated, and hopelessly depressed. Now, because of a fantastic support system starring my parents and a few choice fantastic friends, mental health treatment of medication and cognitive behavioral therapy, A LOT of prayer, and proverbially treading water (keeping myself afloat and refusing to sink), I am in an exponentially better situation.
I will forever need to rant my awkward emotions, but I am grateful that this blog is no longer the sole outlet for my feelings. Just reflecting on where I was geographically, professionally, and emotionally when I began this blog makes me shudder. It's as if I were once trapped in a deep cavern that was filling with water and I was in danger of either drowning or hypothermia - whichever got me first. The past feels as scary, said, dark, and cold as that (thankfully) nonexistent scenario. What can I do with that? Carry it with me and use it to inform future decisions and use it to inform compassionate responses to those suffering the same.
Everything we suffer can be used as a resource, as long as we absorb the lessons. That's how we can leave the pain behind - by making it work for us; making it worth it. What are your thoughts? What's the worst thing that has happened to you, and how can you be grateful for that experience?
Thanks for reading!
Friday, July 12, 2019
Headachey
I'm dragging this morning, as I was yesterday. This time it was because I stayed in bed too long and triggered a headache. I am generally not physically feeling the best, but I am unsure whether this is due to an illness, lack of proper nutrition, or lack of exercise. As I have been consistently good with eating healthy have at least a thirty-minute walk every day, I am leaning toward the first cause. It's possible that something at work made me ill (I'm constantly dealing with bodily fluids and sick children), or my boyfriend. He came home from this year's Rainbow Gathering very ill. It has been four days since his return and he still suffers aches and a persistent fever. He went to the ER the other night hoping to be tested for Lyme's Disease. He had a fever of 103 and they kept him until they were able to put two bags of IV fluid in him and his fever had gone down a few degrees. They said that apparently a blood test may not test positive for Lyme's Disease if it's been less than five to ten days since contracting it.
So I don't know if it's possible, but he may have gotten me sick.
Even so, I have continued to do the bare minimum of maintenance for myself and my home, lest I spiral and succumb to a depressive low. Keeping the kitchen sink empty, the floors clear of clothes, my bed made, my teeth brushed, my body clean, my hair tidy, and my diet healthy keep me in the green. God is good, all the time.
I am so grateful for my physical functionality, my job, my family, my home, and my friends. I'm hoping that I don't get full-blown ill, but things happen and what matters is how you deal with them. Lately on my mind has been a large question of whether I should try to transfer to a job that's closer to my family so that I can move - this also involved potentially ending my 4+ year relationship with my boyfriend, but his absence allowed me the clarity to be brutally honest with myself about him and I just don't see how we can be married in the way that I want a marriage to be. That's a subject for a later blog post.
So I don't know if it's possible, but he may have gotten me sick.
Even so, I have continued to do the bare minimum of maintenance for myself and my home, lest I spiral and succumb to a depressive low. Keeping the kitchen sink empty, the floors clear of clothes, my bed made, my teeth brushed, my body clean, my hair tidy, and my diet healthy keep me in the green. God is good, all the time.
I am so grateful for my physical functionality, my job, my family, my home, and my friends. I'm hoping that I don't get full-blown ill, but things happen and what matters is how you deal with them. Lately on my mind has been a large question of whether I should try to transfer to a job that's closer to my family so that I can move - this also involved potentially ending my 4+ year relationship with my boyfriend, but his absence allowed me the clarity to be brutally honest with myself about him and I just don't see how we can be married in the way that I want a marriage to be. That's a subject for a later blog post.
Thursday, July 11, 2019
Interesting Contrasts
I have recently been doing some buying and selling via Facebook Marketplace. I'm not new to internet buying and selling and I'm very careful. That said, it can be very exciting to interact with people you wouldn't have met otherwise. Think of having nothing in common with someone other than they want to sell you their item and you wish to own that item.
Commerce. I described commerce and retail and that's one of the most public relationships you can have with strangers. Not that novel. Moving on.
This particular person wanted me to meet him at his house this morning. I can't quite say what I had assumed or expected, but I did not expect upper middle class - nay - middle upper class. The area was gorgeous with beautiful properties and very large houses. The neighborhood was full of huge houses. Most of the garages were at least as big, if not bigger than all of the houses in which I ever lived.
The man was pleasant enough. We completed our trade quickly, and I left. My introspective reflections began as soon as I was driving out of that neighborhood.
I don't want to say that I felt ridiculously inadequate, because that would be inaccurate. I certainly felt the difference in our situations, and though it reinforced how far I may be from my personal goals which gave a bit of a pang, but it mostly felt neutral. The fact that it felt so neutral felt really good. I really love having a lack of covet and instead feeling appreciation for life.
I've come a long way from feeling angry that my family didn't have the things and experiences that other families had. Between working through devaluing possessions and certain experiences and dealing with why I felt angry and letting it go, I am at a place where I can be happy for people without feeling like I was betraying my childhood. That stuff still runs deep but at least I'm self-aware and have my eye on it.
It was a refreshing way to begin the day, and it forced me to get out of bed before 10am. I was then looking forward to eating something and then going for a swim, but it began to rain (and thunder) before I could go. Blast! Oh well. Though I haven't logistically accomplished much on this day off, I have been ok with relaxing. After all, this is my work weekend and I will likely be picking up an extra shift on top of the already difficult Saturday and Sunday shifts.
That's it for my blog post. One more step to me truly appreciating myself enough to not feeling at all inadequate in the face of what is conventionally considered to be "successful;" as if a life of humility and contemplation is a failure.
Not that I'm a monk - I just don't seek fame or wealth.
Commerce. I described commerce and retail and that's one of the most public relationships you can have with strangers. Not that novel. Moving on.
This particular person wanted me to meet him at his house this morning. I can't quite say what I had assumed or expected, but I did not expect upper middle class - nay - middle upper class. The area was gorgeous with beautiful properties and very large houses. The neighborhood was full of huge houses. Most of the garages were at least as big, if not bigger than all of the houses in which I ever lived.
The man was pleasant enough. We completed our trade quickly, and I left. My introspective reflections began as soon as I was driving out of that neighborhood.
I don't want to say that I felt ridiculously inadequate, because that would be inaccurate. I certainly felt the difference in our situations, and though it reinforced how far I may be from my personal goals which gave a bit of a pang, but it mostly felt neutral. The fact that it felt so neutral felt really good. I really love having a lack of covet and instead feeling appreciation for life.
I've come a long way from feeling angry that my family didn't have the things and experiences that other families had. Between working through devaluing possessions and certain experiences and dealing with why I felt angry and letting it go, I am at a place where I can be happy for people without feeling like I was betraying my childhood. That stuff still runs deep but at least I'm self-aware and have my eye on it.
It was a refreshing way to begin the day, and it forced me to get out of bed before 10am. I was then looking forward to eating something and then going for a swim, but it began to rain (and thunder) before I could go. Blast! Oh well. Though I haven't logistically accomplished much on this day off, I have been ok with relaxing. After all, this is my work weekend and I will likely be picking up an extra shift on top of the already difficult Saturday and Sunday shifts.
That's it for my blog post. One more step to me truly appreciating myself enough to not feeling at all inadequate in the face of what is conventionally considered to be "successful;" as if a life of humility and contemplation is a failure.
Not that I'm a monk - I just don't seek fame or wealth.
Wednesday, July 10, 2019
Another Day, Another Slough of Words
I'm literally writing this just to write something. As I've expressed in previous blog entries, writing everyday keeps me in tune. If I go too long without writing, I get off-kilter. That's no bueno.
I have also established new personal goals to complete some projects that have been in process and collecting dust for years - some of them for up to seventeen years, actually. To that end, I have finally acquired a little Chromebook, and I love it!!! I bought from someone via eBay for $46. I was so incredibly happy about that. I put some stickers on it in true me fashion, and I take it almost anywhere. My intention is to encourage more writing and contemplation with this tool. It has already been fostering more following through than I had previously done.
Good things!
As long as I write SOMETHING every day, I should be able to keep momentum going, and that will affect all areas of my life. Everything seems a little bit more possible when I have been diligently expressing myself in this form.
I recently had a larger idea (superseding many little ideas I have every day) which required much research and even some education. I love research and education! I just generally love learning new things and when I can focus learning and funnel into the implementation of creative inspiration, it brings me much satisfaction and joy. It's getting to the point where my projects and ideas are fueling me instead of overwhelming me. That's the sweet spot.
What's something that relaxes and satisfies you that others may find tedious? Is this something that can both serve your self-care and your community somehow? What are your innate talents and how can they serve God?
I'm still figuring these things out, but little by little and word by word, we are uncovering this treasure.
*cue Legend of Zelda open treasure chest music*
I have also established new personal goals to complete some projects that have been in process and collecting dust for years - some of them for up to seventeen years, actually. To that end, I have finally acquired a little Chromebook, and I love it!!! I bought from someone via eBay for $46. I was so incredibly happy about that. I put some stickers on it in true me fashion, and I take it almost anywhere. My intention is to encourage more writing and contemplation with this tool. It has already been fostering more following through than I had previously done.
Good things!
As long as I write SOMETHING every day, I should be able to keep momentum going, and that will affect all areas of my life. Everything seems a little bit more possible when I have been diligently expressing myself in this form.
I recently had a larger idea (superseding many little ideas I have every day) which required much research and even some education. I love research and education! I just generally love learning new things and when I can focus learning and funnel into the implementation of creative inspiration, it brings me much satisfaction and joy. It's getting to the point where my projects and ideas are fueling me instead of overwhelming me. That's the sweet spot.
What's something that relaxes and satisfies you that others may find tedious? Is this something that can both serve your self-care and your community somehow? What are your innate talents and how can they serve God?
I'm still figuring these things out, but little by little and word by word, we are uncovering this treasure.
*cue Legend of Zelda open treasure chest music*
Monday, July 1, 2019
Charity or Selfishness?
Every now and again, I have really, truly messed up dreams. They are not classified as nightmares only because of the way I experience them - as a viewer of media; invisible, immune, safe.
Last night I had one such dream. Upon my waking and natural first reflections, I was surprised to remember that it was actually a dream and not a movie or show that I fell asleep watching. In fact, I did not fall asleep watching anything last night.
No, this was a product of my own imagination. I was slightly alarmed that it was in fact my own dream. It was long, complex, dark, and a surprisingly cohesive and not at all meandering plot. As a reader/writer, I immediately identified it as a pre-packaged story; a "freebie," if you will. All I have to do is sit down and write it out!
However.
Part of me considers such dark and evil writing to be dangerously self-indulgent and prideful. It would serve only to showcase my imagination and writing skills...would it not? How would it serve God? There is already so much evil in the world. I wish to engender encouragement and love.
However however.
I also consider dark and evil in storytelling to be an essential antithesis to the ultimate arc in both fiction and life; triumph over it by the Light; agents of God, both proverbial and literal. Our talents and gifts are meant to serve God by serving each other, and grand epiphany via the placebo of an escapist fantasy is a legitimate way to bring someone to Christ. People don't always want to take their medicine, after all.
I'm struggling with the decision on whether or not I should commit this dream to words or let it fade into the cloudy dumping ground of the rest of my forgotten dreams. Am I being charitable by saving my would-be readers from this evil, or am I being selfish and ignoring a way to translate my faith?
Last night I had one such dream. Upon my waking and natural first reflections, I was surprised to remember that it was actually a dream and not a movie or show that I fell asleep watching. In fact, I did not fall asleep watching anything last night.
No, this was a product of my own imagination. I was slightly alarmed that it was in fact my own dream. It was long, complex, dark, and a surprisingly cohesive and not at all meandering plot. As a reader/writer, I immediately identified it as a pre-packaged story; a "freebie," if you will. All I have to do is sit down and write it out!
However.
Part of me considers such dark and evil writing to be dangerously self-indulgent and prideful. It would serve only to showcase my imagination and writing skills...would it not? How would it serve God? There is already so much evil in the world. I wish to engender encouragement and love.
However however.
I also consider dark and evil in storytelling to be an essential antithesis to the ultimate arc in both fiction and life; triumph over it by the Light; agents of God, both proverbial and literal. Our talents and gifts are meant to serve God by serving each other, and grand epiphany via the placebo of an escapist fantasy is a legitimate way to bring someone to Christ. People don't always want to take their medicine, after all.
I'm struggling with the decision on whether or not I should commit this dream to words or let it fade into the cloudy dumping ground of the rest of my forgotten dreams. Am I being charitable by saving my would-be readers from this evil, or am I being selfish and ignoring a way to translate my faith?
Friday, June 28, 2019
Difficulty: A Disjointed Essay/Thought Akin to Unpleasant Staccato
I say this a lot, both to others and to myself; that everything worth doing will be difficult in some form. Life itself is difficult, but life is worth doing, as demonstrated time and time again by our Creator and Savior.
God created life.
Jesus ensured everlasting life by saving us from ourselves.
Human nature in its sinful avarice desires ease, and thus modern life has more ease than difficulty. Basic survival has also become dangerously entwined with the "wants;" i.e. entertainment and luxury. We lose sight of what is truly important in the face of the barrage of marketing and fantasy. Like sugar, it is in everything and gets us addicted without our knowledge. It therefore takes discipline to even "detox" from certain luxuries, and therein lies the modern difficulty.
Toiling in the fields has become undoing our atrophy.
It's crazy ironic.
Truth is difficult. Because of the aforementioned basic standard of luxury, truth becomes muddled in fantasy. Facing the truth requires the flexing of muscles that are rarely used.
Truth is worth doing. Truth is the most important thing. Being honest with myself and with others is a priority in my life. Being trusted is everything to me. I should be able to trust myself. At this point in my life, pulling myself out of a situation because it is difficult is confusing. Am I following an instinct that it is not the path for me, or following an inherent instinct for ease?
Is all ease sinful? No, but like everything, it requires critical thought.
Thinking too much is a little dangerous. Getting stuck in one's head is idling and prideful.
Trust God.
This has been another blog entry by me. Thanks for reading. Go toil in a field.
God created life.
Jesus ensured everlasting life by saving us from ourselves.
Human nature in its sinful avarice desires ease, and thus modern life has more ease than difficulty. Basic survival has also become dangerously entwined with the "wants;" i.e. entertainment and luxury. We lose sight of what is truly important in the face of the barrage of marketing and fantasy. Like sugar, it is in everything and gets us addicted without our knowledge. It therefore takes discipline to even "detox" from certain luxuries, and therein lies the modern difficulty.
Toiling in the fields has become undoing our atrophy.
It's crazy ironic.
Truth is difficult. Because of the aforementioned basic standard of luxury, truth becomes muddled in fantasy. Facing the truth requires the flexing of muscles that are rarely used.
Truth is worth doing. Truth is the most important thing. Being honest with myself and with others is a priority in my life. Being trusted is everything to me. I should be able to trust myself. At this point in my life, pulling myself out of a situation because it is difficult is confusing. Am I following an instinct that it is not the path for me, or following an inherent instinct for ease?
Is all ease sinful? No, but like everything, it requires critical thought.
Thinking too much is a little dangerous. Getting stuck in one's head is idling and prideful.
Trust God.
This has been another blog entry by me. Thanks for reading. Go toil in a field.
Thursday, February 14, 2019
Valentine's Day, Blah Blah Blah
Today I begin my ADHD medication regimen. I'm at the same time slightly nervous and slightly hopeful, but mostly I have no expectations. This slightly cynical and slightly apathetic attitude has aided in counteracting my naturally frenzied overthinking. I do worry sometimes that it may go too far, but that's the balance I face every day.
Today is Valentine's Day, but I don't really care. I got little cards and candy for my coworkers, but other than that I'm not feeling very festive.
I'm not sure where I'm going in my relationship with my boyfriend. Financially, I'm stuck where I am, and I'm scared to really stick my neck out and try for a better job. I have a humble vision of what I would like to do, and where I'd like to be, but I can't always trust my imagination to be realistic.
All in all, despite my various struggles, I'm pushing forward. The past few days, I've been forcing myself to record ALL of my random ideas for crafts, gifts, etc., instead of letting them pass into oblivion. That's been extremely gratifying in itself, because I am a great deal more likely to follow through on these projects now.
I wish I wasn't so buried in myself.
I am grateful for what I have, though.
I am especially grateful for the one friend I've felt comfortable sharing this blog with directly, who has been resoundingly encouraging.
Today is Valentine's Day, but I don't really care. I got little cards and candy for my coworkers, but other than that I'm not feeling very festive.
I'm not sure where I'm going in my relationship with my boyfriend. Financially, I'm stuck where I am, and I'm scared to really stick my neck out and try for a better job. I have a humble vision of what I would like to do, and where I'd like to be, but I can't always trust my imagination to be realistic.
All in all, despite my various struggles, I'm pushing forward. The past few days, I've been forcing myself to record ALL of my random ideas for crafts, gifts, etc., instead of letting them pass into oblivion. That's been extremely gratifying in itself, because I am a great deal more likely to follow through on these projects now.
I wish I wasn't so buried in myself.
I am grateful for what I have, though.
I am especially grateful for the one friend I've felt comfortable sharing this blog with directly, who has been resoundingly encouraging.
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
Harbinger of Guilt and Uncertainty
I was pulled into consciousness by the sound of a mother repeatedly calling for her son. At first it sounded like his name, but as I surfaced to waking I realized it was a completely different name.
And in my fully woken state I felt the familiar disappointment/ambivalence about my reality.
Once again, I dreamt of someone from my past, someone I hurt, someone who hurt me.
As always, I can only hope and I sent up a wish that he dreamt of me, as well, so that his torment may be equal to mine.
This was after a series of nonsensical dreams; of spending a summer/weekend with a British second cousin who lived with her aunt and uncle in a cramped old townhouse and for who I had to use my angry American demeanor to chase away a house-calling guidance counselor who would separate her from her family, of being shown some inaccurate photos of my high school days and feeling nostalgic about things that never happened and then being pulled into a past/future that was dystopian and at the same time perfectly reasonable, sorting through confusion, frustration, understanding, running from a man with a knife who wrongfully insisted that I stole wool out of a jacket he stole from me, hiding in an abandoned high rise to wake up covered in a dusting of snow with other people who were hiding either from people or life; random, crazy, imaginative dreams that altogether clean out the scraps of my eclectic mind, satisfy my longing for adventure, and free me from the shackles of things I can’t seem to change about myself ....after this came the dream in which he starred.
As per the usual, his dreams demand more of a cohesive narrative, whereas the others are free to roam and jump where they will. Once again, I was forced to wish that things were different between us because of a stubborn idealized vision of our possible future that is embedded in the back of my mind like the old chewing gum of an apathetic stranger in the previously clean treads of an unwitting shoe.
I was to attend some somber event at my family’s (and his family’s) church. At first it was a funeral in my dad’s family, and then it was something less severe. I was aware that he might be in attendance and I tried to frame how he would first see me after all these years. I hoped that I was thinner than I was, that my hair was longer and thicker and braided. Despite being acutely aware of everyone around me, when he did inevitably approach me I was startled, for which he apologized.
I turned to face him.
His bony structure had some adequate weight on it. His ginger hair was turning auburn. His face had some lines it didn’t used to. One calm, inquisitive look of me to his three friends was enough for him to dismiss them, assuring them that he would be fine. I thought, it’s like him to be dramatic enough to have both built me up to be this great beast to his friends and to expect a battle. I was happy to have dispelled these things.
Though I had wished to be better looking for our encounter, I felt the oldest and chubbiest I ever have, but as we made meaningful eye contact I realized that he, against his will, still saw me as stunningly beautiful.
I prepared for a fight. I prepared to answer to his years-old accusation with a speech I had amended countless times.
Once again he surprised me by asking, “Do you hate me?”
I was floored. Scrambling, I answered, “I was sure that you hated me.” His response was an incredulous look. I explained, “Afterwards, you were so just angry, and you deleted me on Facebook; you never reached out to me again. I had to assume that you hate me.”
This made him...angry? He offered no rebuttal and walked away.
The rest of the dream was interspersed with scattered hypotheticals propelled by lucid theorizing. Why was I given reign over the latter half of the dream? No matter what control I had over the rest of the story, as always, we did not forgive each other, and the wound remained open.
And in my fully woken state I felt the familiar disappointment/ambivalence about my reality.
Once again, I dreamt of someone from my past, someone I hurt, someone who hurt me.
As always, I can only hope and I sent up a wish that he dreamt of me, as well, so that his torment may be equal to mine.
This was after a series of nonsensical dreams; of spending a summer/weekend with a British second cousin who lived with her aunt and uncle in a cramped old townhouse and for who I had to use my angry American demeanor to chase away a house-calling guidance counselor who would separate her from her family, of being shown some inaccurate photos of my high school days and feeling nostalgic about things that never happened and then being pulled into a past/future that was dystopian and at the same time perfectly reasonable, sorting through confusion, frustration, understanding, running from a man with a knife who wrongfully insisted that I stole wool out of a jacket he stole from me, hiding in an abandoned high rise to wake up covered in a dusting of snow with other people who were hiding either from people or life; random, crazy, imaginative dreams that altogether clean out the scraps of my eclectic mind, satisfy my longing for adventure, and free me from the shackles of things I can’t seem to change about myself ....after this came the dream in which he starred.
As per the usual, his dreams demand more of a cohesive narrative, whereas the others are free to roam and jump where they will. Once again, I was forced to wish that things were different between us because of a stubborn idealized vision of our possible future that is embedded in the back of my mind like the old chewing gum of an apathetic stranger in the previously clean treads of an unwitting shoe.
I was to attend some somber event at my family’s (and his family’s) church. At first it was a funeral in my dad’s family, and then it was something less severe. I was aware that he might be in attendance and I tried to frame how he would first see me after all these years. I hoped that I was thinner than I was, that my hair was longer and thicker and braided. Despite being acutely aware of everyone around me, when he did inevitably approach me I was startled, for which he apologized.
I turned to face him.
His bony structure had some adequate weight on it. His ginger hair was turning auburn. His face had some lines it didn’t used to. One calm, inquisitive look of me to his three friends was enough for him to dismiss them, assuring them that he would be fine. I thought, it’s like him to be dramatic enough to have both built me up to be this great beast to his friends and to expect a battle. I was happy to have dispelled these things.
Though I had wished to be better looking for our encounter, I felt the oldest and chubbiest I ever have, but as we made meaningful eye contact I realized that he, against his will, still saw me as stunningly beautiful.
I prepared for a fight. I prepared to answer to his years-old accusation with a speech I had amended countless times.
Once again he surprised me by asking, “Do you hate me?”
I was floored. Scrambling, I answered, “I was sure that you hated me.” His response was an incredulous look. I explained, “Afterwards, you were so just angry, and you deleted me on Facebook; you never reached out to me again. I had to assume that you hate me.”
This made him...angry? He offered no rebuttal and walked away.
The rest of the dream was interspersed with scattered hypotheticals propelled by lucid theorizing. Why was I given reign over the latter half of the dream? No matter what control I had over the rest of the story, as always, we did not forgive each other, and the wound remained open.
Tuesday, February 5, 2019
The Siren's Call of My Impulses
I have struggled all my life with impulse control. I have always been quite impulsive, and it's been a great triumph to have gotten where I am in this fight.
I still lose some battles.
I eat things impulsively.
I buy things impulsively.
These are my two greatest battles in my war for impulse control.
I have recently experienced a major loss in this war. There are many variables in this, but I believe the most prominent may be my age. As I approached the age of thirty, I faced my fear and shame of not having/being most of things I had planned to by now. After my hurtful disappointment of a birthday, I was able to let go and accept things for what they are (while still maintaining minimal motivation for improvement).
However.
I got a little carried away with spending at Christmas. I let it happen because choosing, buying/making, wrapping, and giving presents makes me ridiculously happy at Christmas, and it was the first Christmas in a few years that I wasn't stressed out and horribly depressed because of work. After Christmas, I treated myself, and it kept going for a bit. One day I had an internal intervention and put my foot down because my spending got out of control and I was back to living paycheck to paycheck.
I have also been letting myself indulge in some moderately unhealthy eating, choosing to let some things go rather than feel shame and disappointment. This was in the name of emotional self-care, but my physical self-care is now suffering.
It feels good to indulge. Denying that just creates more problems. Like muscles, though, resistance to impulses atrophies without exercise. Right now, it feels better to indulge than to resist. I'm back on track to being good, though, and soon it will feel better to resist than to indulge. I look forward to that. With time I know that I get wiser and stronger, and though I do have some regressions and setbacks, they get less dramatic as time goes on.
God created me as I am, and there is purpose to my design. Having faith in Him and in that strengthens my resolve to refine my inner ore.
Thanks for reading.
I still lose some battles.
I eat things impulsively.
I buy things impulsively.
These are my two greatest battles in my war for impulse control.
I have recently experienced a major loss in this war. There are many variables in this, but I believe the most prominent may be my age. As I approached the age of thirty, I faced my fear and shame of not having/being most of things I had planned to by now. After my hurtful disappointment of a birthday, I was able to let go and accept things for what they are (while still maintaining minimal motivation for improvement).
However.
I got a little carried away with spending at Christmas. I let it happen because choosing, buying/making, wrapping, and giving presents makes me ridiculously happy at Christmas, and it was the first Christmas in a few years that I wasn't stressed out and horribly depressed because of work. After Christmas, I treated myself, and it kept going for a bit. One day I had an internal intervention and put my foot down because my spending got out of control and I was back to living paycheck to paycheck.
I have also been letting myself indulge in some moderately unhealthy eating, choosing to let some things go rather than feel shame and disappointment. This was in the name of emotional self-care, but my physical self-care is now suffering.
It feels good to indulge. Denying that just creates more problems. Like muscles, though, resistance to impulses atrophies without exercise. Right now, it feels better to indulge than to resist. I'm back on track to being good, though, and soon it will feel better to resist than to indulge. I look forward to that. With time I know that I get wiser and stronger, and though I do have some regressions and setbacks, they get less dramatic as time goes on.
God created me as I am, and there is purpose to my design. Having faith in Him and in that strengthens my resolve to refine my inner ore.
Thanks for reading.
Thursday, January 24, 2019
Healthy Coping or Apathy?
Things are generally good. My head space is in a good place. Money and car things, however, are frustrating. I am surprisingly calm about it.
Usually I become ashamed and frustrated at myself for not being more responsible, and that brings me down. I have learned, however, that such feelings are counterproductive to problem solving. I'm hoping that's the reason I'm feeling so calm and able to cut right to moving on and fixing things.
There's also a big part of me that's feeling very tired of these issues and so there's a fair chance that I'm partially to mostly apathetic.
I'm not apathetic to everything, obviously, but being able to let go is nice.
My parents are extremely supportive and I don't deserve them. When I had my car towed to my mechanic and got the news that I would need a new engine and that everything would cost over $5000, I took that in stride and asked him not to do anything until he heard from me next. I then called my dad because he's always been my default for car stuff and I appreciate that deeply. He asked me to text him the car and mechanic details so that he could call and talk to him, and then get a second opinion from his mechanic.
The verdict seems to be that having to get a new engine is unavoidable and putting money into that would not be as cost effective as purchasing a different vehicle entirely.
That's disappointing, but again, surprisingly, my feelings aren't terribly hurt by it. I'm not sure what I will be able to do, but I'm not anxious at all. Not being anxious is such a fantastic feeling. It's so lovely. I've been thanking God for this calm.
Today is my day off, as I have to work this weekend, and it's been rainy, but I've been in good spirits. At about 45 degrees it's about five times warmer than it has been the past few days, so I have a window open where the rain doesn't come in. Windows open on a rainy day is one of those things that makes me happy.
Despite not having much money, despite being heavier than I'd like, despite a plethora of other things I'd like to improve, I feel good today.
So that's pretty cool.
Usually I become ashamed and frustrated at myself for not being more responsible, and that brings me down. I have learned, however, that such feelings are counterproductive to problem solving. I'm hoping that's the reason I'm feeling so calm and able to cut right to moving on and fixing things.
There's also a big part of me that's feeling very tired of these issues and so there's a fair chance that I'm partially to mostly apathetic.
I'm not apathetic to everything, obviously, but being able to let go is nice.
My parents are extremely supportive and I don't deserve them. When I had my car towed to my mechanic and got the news that I would need a new engine and that everything would cost over $5000, I took that in stride and asked him not to do anything until he heard from me next. I then called my dad because he's always been my default for car stuff and I appreciate that deeply. He asked me to text him the car and mechanic details so that he could call and talk to him, and then get a second opinion from his mechanic.
The verdict seems to be that having to get a new engine is unavoidable and putting money into that would not be as cost effective as purchasing a different vehicle entirely.
That's disappointing, but again, surprisingly, my feelings aren't terribly hurt by it. I'm not sure what I will be able to do, but I'm not anxious at all. Not being anxious is such a fantastic feeling. It's so lovely. I've been thanking God for this calm.
Today is my day off, as I have to work this weekend, and it's been rainy, but I've been in good spirits. At about 45 degrees it's about five times warmer than it has been the past few days, so I have a window open where the rain doesn't come in. Windows open on a rainy day is one of those things that makes me happy.
Despite not having much money, despite being heavier than I'd like, despite a plethora of other things I'd like to improve, I feel good today.
So that's pretty cool.
Tuesday, January 22, 2019
Today's Stuff
Last night when I was driving home from work, my car was behaving strangely before it stalled and stopped running (luckily right in front of my apartment building). My boyfriend heroically came out and helped me get it into a parking spot.
I am no stranger to car problems, as my last car was extraordinarily problematic and caused me much stress. I know how to deal with such things.
However.
They say when it rains, it pours. I felt quite piled on this morning.
I am struggling a bit financially. I had a bit of a regression recently with my old habits of impulse purchases and emotional spending, and I am now back to living paycheck to paycheck. This time last year I had taken a second job to supplement my income and get out of the paycheck to paycheck cycle. I'm ashamed to have essentially undone that work. Now I have an unexpected car emergency, and this is precisely why I wanted to pad my checking account and create a savings account. I am very close to being broke. Again.
The main difference between this year and last year is that I can pick up more shifts at my job and actually get paid for overtime. I am also in a better place mentally, spiritually, and creatively. Physically, I'm still pretty blubby and not fit. That's ok. I'm working on that.
I had my car towed to my mechanic, and my boyfriend insisted that I borrow his car for work. I have yet to hear about my car, but I'm not anxious. I'm just disappointed in myself because I will inevitably ask for help to pay for the repair.
I'm glad that this doesn't stress me out anymore, but being disappointed in myself still stings.
I can only go forward and do better, and with God's Grace that is always possible.
I am no stranger to car problems, as my last car was extraordinarily problematic and caused me much stress. I know how to deal with such things.
However.
They say when it rains, it pours. I felt quite piled on this morning.
I am struggling a bit financially. I had a bit of a regression recently with my old habits of impulse purchases and emotional spending, and I am now back to living paycheck to paycheck. This time last year I had taken a second job to supplement my income and get out of the paycheck to paycheck cycle. I'm ashamed to have essentially undone that work. Now I have an unexpected car emergency, and this is precisely why I wanted to pad my checking account and create a savings account. I am very close to being broke. Again.
The main difference between this year and last year is that I can pick up more shifts at my job and actually get paid for overtime. I am also in a better place mentally, spiritually, and creatively. Physically, I'm still pretty blubby and not fit. That's ok. I'm working on that.
I had my car towed to my mechanic, and my boyfriend insisted that I borrow his car for work. I have yet to hear about my car, but I'm not anxious. I'm just disappointed in myself because I will inevitably ask for help to pay for the repair.
I'm glad that this doesn't stress me out anymore, but being disappointed in myself still stings.
I can only go forward and do better, and with God's Grace that is always possible.
Monday, January 21, 2019
Revelation, and Scattered Things
I finally connected with a psychiatrist, and have been on anti-depressants for the past few months. It hasn't been a cure-all, but it has helped me to cope with things and feel more like myself.
I specifically chose this psychiatrist because she has a specialty in ADHD, and she does testing. At my most recent appointment, I took the test, and I was diagnosed with ADHD. At 30, this is no surprise, and bittersweet.
It explains a few things about my struggles with attention span, sitting still, impatience, impulse control, emotional regulation, to name a few things. Understanding myself is an important step in improvement, but I feel so sad and angry.
I feel that I missed out and/or screwed up so much in my life simply because I did not have the tools I needed. As I type this, I am crying necessary cathartic tears. I try so hard not to dwell on my mistakes and instead to look forward and do what I can to make good on the hard-learned lessons so that they are not in vain. However, it is very difficult not to regret certain things and wish for the impossible, such as going back in time and stopping myself from being so stupid. Yes, after almost four years, I am still very angry at myself for losing the best job I ever had (and likely will ever have). I have been told that I must forgive myself and move on, but I honestly have no idea how to do this without fixing this mistake, and I have yet to do this.
I have an idea of what I must do.
I have the gift of stubborn determination. Once I decide to do something, to set myself on a course, it will get done. Once I have realized a significant facet of my situation, I cannot go on as I once did. You cannot unknow things. Like a hangnail in my mind, it annoys and demands attention and resolution. Like a hangnail, these things are usually not solved with one action alone, and they are not solved without pain.
I have been in a relationship with someone who claims that he loves me, yet remains indifferent to the idea of marriage. This is ringing incessantly in my mind as incorrect. It seems that it would be a mistake to continue on in this relationship. There is something within me insisting that I deserve more, though this is the best and healthiest relationship I have ever had. The fear that I risk behaving in an ungrateful manner does not reconcile with my doubts. I can't help but believe that I wouldn't feel this way if he were a professing Christian, but that will not happen without my own transformation. I have been and remain a sadly lukewarm Christian, hesitant to be convicted to make difficult changes in my life to solidify my allegiance to Christ and turn my back on the world. One foot in the door, I speak with wisdom I do not act on. It is cowardly and hypocritical.
Other obstacles are things I fear about myself. I fear being single and doing things impulsively because of my struggle with lust. I fear the euphoria of falling in love again. I know that it is within me to love someone else, but I fear not the euphoric feeling of a new relationship itself, but and the possible poor judgement that goes along with it. It's honestly more scary than the thought of being single for the rest of my life.
My imagination is both my greatest gift and my worst enemy. Both being aware that nothing in life could live up to my fantasies and being able to harness these fantasies into writing have helped me to reign it into something less detrimental to goal building and more productive to something that emotionally sustains me in a way nothing else can.
My imagination has aided me greatly in my problem-solving skills. Where there is an issue, I am able to imagine how to solve the problem. This is beneficial. When I have a problem in a relationship, my imagination goes on autopilot to imagine my way out of it. This is not always beneficial, because, as I mentioned before, my life will not live up to my fantasies. Being honest with myself and realistic with expectations (or having none at all) has been instrumental in keeping my feet on the ground.
Some of this thinking was brought on by a feeling of inadequacy, which is a familiar feeling. I have gotten better at accepting myself as I am, but in weak moments brought on by comparison or frustration, I bitterly wish that I could be better and I lament the time I wasted on poor judgement.
This has been scattered and not at all tied up. Thank you for reading.
I specifically chose this psychiatrist because she has a specialty in ADHD, and she does testing. At my most recent appointment, I took the test, and I was diagnosed with ADHD. At 30, this is no surprise, and bittersweet.
It explains a few things about my struggles with attention span, sitting still, impatience, impulse control, emotional regulation, to name a few things. Understanding myself is an important step in improvement, but I feel so sad and angry.
I feel that I missed out and/or screwed up so much in my life simply because I did not have the tools I needed. As I type this, I am crying necessary cathartic tears. I try so hard not to dwell on my mistakes and instead to look forward and do what I can to make good on the hard-learned lessons so that they are not in vain. However, it is very difficult not to regret certain things and wish for the impossible, such as going back in time and stopping myself from being so stupid. Yes, after almost four years, I am still very angry at myself for losing the best job I ever had (and likely will ever have). I have been told that I must forgive myself and move on, but I honestly have no idea how to do this without fixing this mistake, and I have yet to do this.
I have an idea of what I must do.
I have the gift of stubborn determination. Once I decide to do something, to set myself on a course, it will get done. Once I have realized a significant facet of my situation, I cannot go on as I once did. You cannot unknow things. Like a hangnail in my mind, it annoys and demands attention and resolution. Like a hangnail, these things are usually not solved with one action alone, and they are not solved without pain.
I have been in a relationship with someone who claims that he loves me, yet remains indifferent to the idea of marriage. This is ringing incessantly in my mind as incorrect. It seems that it would be a mistake to continue on in this relationship. There is something within me insisting that I deserve more, though this is the best and healthiest relationship I have ever had. The fear that I risk behaving in an ungrateful manner does not reconcile with my doubts. I can't help but believe that I wouldn't feel this way if he were a professing Christian, but that will not happen without my own transformation. I have been and remain a sadly lukewarm Christian, hesitant to be convicted to make difficult changes in my life to solidify my allegiance to Christ and turn my back on the world. One foot in the door, I speak with wisdom I do not act on. It is cowardly and hypocritical.
Other obstacles are things I fear about myself. I fear being single and doing things impulsively because of my struggle with lust. I fear the euphoria of falling in love again. I know that it is within me to love someone else, but I fear not the euphoric feeling of a new relationship itself, but and the possible poor judgement that goes along with it. It's honestly more scary than the thought of being single for the rest of my life.
My imagination is both my greatest gift and my worst enemy. Both being aware that nothing in life could live up to my fantasies and being able to harness these fantasies into writing have helped me to reign it into something less detrimental to goal building and more productive to something that emotionally sustains me in a way nothing else can.
My imagination has aided me greatly in my problem-solving skills. Where there is an issue, I am able to imagine how to solve the problem. This is beneficial. When I have a problem in a relationship, my imagination goes on autopilot to imagine my way out of it. This is not always beneficial, because, as I mentioned before, my life will not live up to my fantasies. Being honest with myself and realistic with expectations (or having none at all) has been instrumental in keeping my feet on the ground.
Some of this thinking was brought on by a feeling of inadequacy, which is a familiar feeling. I have gotten better at accepting myself as I am, but in weak moments brought on by comparison or frustration, I bitterly wish that I could be better and I lament the time I wasted on poor judgement.
This has been scattered and not at all tied up. Thank you for reading.
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