Posted in Thoughts and the Past

Being Willing to Die for Someone- why I believe that is a healthy sign of maturity [with audio]

Reading of the Post

Most People Would Not Take a Bullet for Someone Else….Most.

I believe every person cares about themselves above anyone else. …up until a certain point. We, as humans are social creatures, of course. So, I do believe that in some cases people do care more about others than themselves, like in the case of mothers and their children. I am not a mother and as a non child having person, I remember telling my best friend in sixth grade that I’d do almost anything for her. I meant anything except die for her. I take motherhood very seriously and have many, likely unpopular, opinions on that role, but for now I’ll say this: I believe one of the primordial requirements to become a mother is to be willing to die for one’s children.

I don’t even mean this as in choosing to die for a child like pushing them out of the way of an oncoming vehicle when crossing the street only to be struck by it yourself. I mean, in ways that are (amazingly) not given much thought or consideration. I should say, in ways that aren’t dwelled on. The best example being, by giving birth. That can be extremely dangerous and sometimes fatal, but people do it everyday. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that.

Would I Die to Save Someone Else?

I never thought I’d meet anyone I’d be willing to give my life for. Thankfully, I haven’t been through many near fatal situations first hand. In fact, the one I am about to describe is the least dangerous of my top three, but it is the most recent. I was swimming in the pool with a friend of mine and her two daughters. While she was taking care of her infant, I was watching over her five year old daughter who was afraid of drowning. After a few hours she would “dive” from a small platform as long as I promised to catch her before her head went below water.

This was encouraging progress. I am consumed by fear myself, so if there is one fear I can help my honorary niece conquer, I will. She continues making progress throughout our time in the pool and after a couple of hours she decides to jump from the pool’s edge which is even higher than the platform from the previous dives. I held out my hands knowing this was a positive step for her. Even though I was wary about the height she was jumping from (we were in the deep end), I wanted to encourage her newfound bravery and knew that whatever happened, she would not drown. I would not allow that to happen.

I didn’t. She jumped, but the added height took me by surprise. I sank in the water as I furiously kicked only thinking about her. My only thought being to not let her face go under water as it would freak her out. She was wearing floaties, so she would likely be fine even if I had let go, but I did not want to traumatize her. So I held her up and kicked underwater as much as I could before taking in a small breath of water myself.

Was it stupid? Maybe. Unnecessary? Probably. But in that moment, I wasn’t thinking. To tell you the truth, I actually forgot she was wearing floaties. Or maybe I thought that if she went underwater and panicked it wouldn’t matter if she was wearing floaties or not, she might start inhaling water out of pure panic. Point is, in that moment, to me, she had to stay above water or else she’d drown. Simple as that.

So I did not let go. It was only a moment, but I do remember running out of breath and wondering if I would drown. To assure her before this, I had told her that I would drown myself before I ever allowed her to drown. I meant it, but didn’t dwell on it. I said it so nonchalantly, but without planning on it, was proving the statement true not long after I’d said it. Thankfully, I was able to gasp in air soon after that small trickle of water and I had enough sense to play it cool and give her a smile while congratulating her for her bravery for deciding to jump.

If I did it right, she won’t even remember that moment. She’ll just remember that she can trust me to keep her safe even when she’s scared.

Why was I Willing to Drown?

As for me, I remember that moment as the first moment I ever risked my life for someone. Again, I know it was a stupid thing to do and really not nearly as dangerous as it could have been, but for me it was the only time I could ever say something was happening to me that could threaten my life and I chose to continue on in that state for the sake of someone else. It’s confusing.

Maybe it just proves I do have that expected motherly nature that encourages people (regardless of gender) to protect the younger population. Maybe it’s personal and means I love my honorary niece in a way I’ve never loved another human being. Maybe it just means I’m stupid. I don’t know.

Ultimately, regardless of what it means, I now know that I do have at least one person whose life I would save before my own. It’s a scary, yet encouraging thought….however, there are many other barriers to motherhood for me so no news on that front.

What my Limited Knowledge of Psychology has to say about this

I’m not sure how to end this post. I don’t want to recommend seeking out a dangerous situation to risk your life saving someone else, unless you have a dream of being a firefighter or something of the sort. I will say though, I remember studying about developmental stages in psychology class and learning that as people age into adulthood they often benefit from interacting and giving back to those younger than them, especially children.

I also remember learning that in old age people are either satisfied and accepting of death or regretful and fighting against end of life.

Not to be morbid, but I do feel like being willing to sacrifice one’s life for a someone else, especially a child, is a natural and healthy part of life. I see it as accepting the fact that I am older now and I, even unconsciously, agree that one day I will die, so if it’s between my death and the death of someone younger than me, I am not the priority. In a strange way, that is comforting to me. Maybe because I did not think it possible.

My Personal Ties to Self Preservation

I have feared death for many years. Like I said, my life revolves around my fears. Some are of seemingly insignificant things like social anxieties and personal insecurities, but most revolve around an overactive sense of self preservation. I have attempted to avoid bodily harm since before I was afraid of death.

I was taught how to get off a bed before I was even able to climb onto one. (My older brother rolled off of a bed and hurt himself as a toddler, so we both learned how to get off a bed the very next day. Can’t imagine I was older than a year or so at the time.) I’m the younger sibling by one year and it’s true (at least in my family) that the first child is how the parents learn to, well, parent by trial and error. My brother was both a clumsy and a sickly child, so self preservation was a huge lesson my parents’ prioritized teaching us.

Knowing how ingrained that sense of looking out for my own life and safety was, it’s no wonder I didn’t think it possible to care for others as much as myself in terms of physical well being. (Emotionally is a different story since I will very readily give up my own comfort or really, anything I can to make people feel better even if said thing makes me feel worse.)

Moral of the Story and my Insane Writing Process

So, to recap: I am still afraid of dozens of things and have no desire to partake in potentially dangerous activities, however I believe I am maturing in a healthy way since I did experience a moment of undeniable motherly/adult instinct to protect a child for the first time in my life.

Therefore, life is beautiful. Take care of your loved ones. And look forward to another insane rambling of mine…..at some random point in the future. ….or the next time I watch an emotional movie and am bombarded by so much past trauma that I suppress my urge to avoid thinking about anything by distracting myself with T.V., food, social media, etc. and I decide to face some of it head on and eventually find some viable post in the word vomit and fall asleep exhausted but glad to have put some of my many tortuous thoughts into words and somehow find the strength to come back to said messy post the following day or week or month to edit it and make it as readable as posible before posting it for the world to fall witness to my inner demons.

Yep. I’ve been finding it hard to write these past few months. Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope someone got something out of that. And, if you would like to watch a movie that will twist your heart to pieces if you can relate to it in any way, I highly recommend Five Feet Apart.

Note: Picture from Pexel’s Free Photo Library
Posted in My Life Now, Texas- Living with Parents

“So You Know”, I made a YouTube channel!

Yeah, that’s the name of my YouTube channel. 😅 “So You Know” Maybe it’s lackluster, but it just made sense to me. My channel is a vlog channel that I want to use to tell my day to day experiences. Plus, I’m a little bit of a grammar nerd. I love the importance of the comma in that phrase. “So you know”… at the beginning of my videos sets up the stories my days will tell in the vlog while “So, you know” concludes them since by watching the vlog you now know a little more about my life. 🙂

….I know it’s lame, haha. I just want to have a place where I can share my life in video format and I didn’t want a super obvious or cheesy channel name about my life, my story, or my journey.

I don’t have much experience making videos, but then again, I didn’t have any experience blogging when I started this site two years ago. While I’m not a blog superstar, it’s done better than I could have hoped. I never thought anyone would bother reading my words, let alone relating or enjoying them as I feel happens when I get likes or comments on my posts. I’m hoping the same will be true of my YouTube channel. I go into that experience not expecting much response.

From Blogging to Vlogging

I’m thinking it’ll be boring vlogs that only my family or close friends watch ….maybe. As I write this, the only thing on my channel is an intro video and my two vlogs. I don’t think either is a memorable work of art. The real value in this venture is how cathartic it can be. Maybe writing isn’t that for me anymore. Maybe I get in my own way too much for it to be my outlet anymore. I remember the summer after I graduated university, it was this blog that kept me sane. I planned my day around writing and editing and translating posts.

Now, my weekly schedule is filled with shooting, editing, and subtitling videos. I am still feeling incredibly lost in life and what I want to do with it. No amount of self pep talks and strict self guidelines have helped me to want to wake up every morning. Some days I can do the bare minimum, but other days, like today, the accomplishment is getting through the day without my family seeing the tears well up in my eyes. I woke up today and just the thought of my day ahead forced me back to sleep.

When I woke up much later in the afternoon, I just wanted to stay in bed. I did, actually, for another hour. I was so mad at myself for not getting up earlier. I had stayed up until 5am making plans and getting excited about life again and all I wanted to achieve. Less than 12 hours later though, at 3pm when I awoke, I was in irrational tears trying to convince myself to get out of bed. I’m so tired of living like this.

I Feel Stuck but Don’t Want to Take the Conventional Fix

I know I could make a change. I know, it’s difficult for me self regulate and stay motivated without external factors. I’m at a point where unless I have a push or a pull, some sort of inertia, I can’t create that for myself. I know that if I were to go to school or get a job, I’d do well. Excellent, even, depending on what it was. But, I feel so sad and empty where I am that I don’t think I can change that by myself.

I know it’s not conventional, but I can’t afford conventional (therapy). And I’m so scared to get a job just for the sake of it for two big reasons. The first being that I don’t want to find myself at that same job I have no interest or passion for years later just because I need a salary. The second reason being that I am scared to be more exposed to this virus because of my family- particularly my brother. He is so scared and with good reason. He’s gone through so much, medically. I don’t want to be the reason he gets sick…for the last time…

YouTube, my Longtime Dream…but, being realistic

Morbid thought, I know. Have I gotten off topic as usual? Perhaps. But, not completely. It’s a crazy dream, but I want to give YouTube a shot. When I started this blog I only briefly thought about monetizing it. However, I didn’t believe my writing would be good enough to warrant that….plus I don’t love the idea of ads and bringing that into my space of creativity. I’m still not 100% comfortable with that on YouTube, but it seems like a more natural place for that than here. That’s a ways away though, so I have time to decide.

That’s my crazy dream. I would love to make YouTube my full time job. I am not betting everything on this, but I do want to give this a try. Maybe I end of hating it or feeling like it’s too much, or I find a dream job outside of YouTube or I just give up on the channel and I settle for any old job. I don’t know what will happen, but I want to have this experience.

I am very insecure about my editing and content at the moment. I started recording with the thought that it would be a health and wellness channel, but then I decided to go more broad. I feel like it is kind of awkward and boring… But then again, I never thought anyone other than my roommate would ever read this blog… yet, here you are.

It warms my heart and makes me believe that the YouTube channel could be moderately successful as well. Really, any comment or views that are not from family or friends would make me feel overjoyed… And, I know if YouTube ever becomes more than a hobby, that will take time- years, more than likely. (Enough time for me to get better at editing and recording and hosting my channel, thank goodness.)

Subscribe to my YouTube Channel “So You Know

Having said allllll that, I invite you to subscribe to my YouTube channel. If you have followed my blog for any length of time, you know how I am. Admirable traits, character flaws and all. Maybe it’s not your cup of tea. That’s fine. But, if you want to sit through some raw footage and go on that journey with me, you are more than welcome to.

In the future, I am considering adapting content from this blog, but that will be much later in the future. As always, thank you for reading. It still means as much now as when I started writing here two years ago.

“So You Know”, I made a YouTube channel! Yeah, that’s the lame name of my YouTube channel. Check out my blog post explaining this change in medium or follow this link to see my intro video:
https://youtu.be/E-rTDCVU29M

Posted in Texas- Living with Parents, Thoughts and the Past

Feeling like a Failure, but it’s all Relative- Embracing being the Rebel in my Family

Personal reading for all you audiophiles and busy people alike 🙂

I’ve fallen out of love with writing. Before, it was my comfort. I used it to get my thoughts and stress out. …Then things happened I couldn’t bear to write about. Things I no longer wanted to explore or understand. I just wanted them to be forgotten. I still do.

Avoiding the Past

Many, I have forgotten. Thank heavens. But, the catalyst lingers. And I can not help but attempt to avoid writing in fear of preserving new horrors. I want to be open and honest in my writing, but there are some doors I no longer allow myself to open anymore. While there are others- revolving doors- that seem to have no lock and key. No matter how hard I push or pull, they will not shut.

I feel weak. I feel…ashamed. I am a failure and I am afraid to not be one. So I hide. Behind television series and video games. I used to hide behind documentaries and books as well…but it seems that too has changed. I am obsessed with change. I think because I’ve never liked myself. I grew up with the usual ideals- knowledge, kindness, appearances.

I succeeded at them out of doors and within myself (I believed). How do I know what I believed? I was not a person before. I won’t repeat the details. Just know I was raised as a people pleaser. I didn’t know what it meant to like something before I attended university. I know that won’t make sense to many people. How does a person not have opinions, likes, or dislikes. In my mind, I was not allowed to- so I didn’t.

Finding my Voice Despite Outside Influences

When I began university, I was so strict with myself. I had so many rules and guidelines. I could not distinguish my thoughts from what I had been taught growing up. My inner voice was not my own. It was a combination of my parents and wise teachers and life lessons learned from television.

Eventually, I let go. I learned to trust myself and hear myself. Listen to what I wanted. Just the other day I realized something huge. I grew up feeling like the big sister of the family- like a forced mother of sorts. I still do. However, the thought occurred to me that I am also the rebel in the family- a black sheep of sorts- at least in the eyes of my immediate family. I felt so happy in that moment.

I know we do not get to choose whether we are born nor in what order, but I always felt cheated in a way. Remember, I learned the ways of life from television? I was sold so much crap about the youngest siblings’ position in life and in the family. I was told they are the spoiled one with no responsibilities and all the praise. I only have one sibling; still, things were not so.

Familial Expectations

In many ways, more was expected of me- as a female, as an able-bodied person, as a younger person, as an English speaker, as someone with education, and as a daughter.

  • “You should be in the kitchen with your mother.”
  • Coddling my older brother “because of his situation.” (He has chronic illnesses; I am healthy.)
  • Do this, do that “because you’re the youngest therefore have the most energy”.
  • “Translate this, call this number, set this appointment”.
  • “You are lucky to have an education…so, why a 98? Why not a 100?”
  • “It is the youngest daughter’s responsibility to take care of her parents in their old age.”
  • “It is expected you as a daughter in general not leave the house unless you are married to a man.”
  • “If you go anywhere except work or school, you must state where you are going, with whom, and be back before it is dark.”

But, I stubbornly sat with my dad that day and watched the soccer game with him instead of going to help my mother in the kitchen. (I don’t even like soccer.) I call my parents out for hindering my brother’s independence by helping him too much and thus impeding him from learning to have confidence and the ability to do things on his own. And in general, I am just a horrendous daughter in my immediate family’s eyes.

Respectful or Rebellious?

Some time ago, I wrote a piece about my mother and how she finds me to be disrespectful. Soon after, one of my cousins checked up on me and expressed her shock at the situation. For years until that point, whenever my family would visit their family for holidays I remained stuck like glue to my mother’s side and said maybe two words the entire evening. I didn’t have a personality, like I had mentioned. My job was to not upset my parents. They had enough to worry about with my sickly brother.

I shouldn’t have been as shocked that my cousin thought I was a better daughter than I am, but I am a terrible daughter. I don’t help with chores, I do speak up if I see something I disagree with, and I, frankly, don’t care about what my parents consider a good daughter to be. When it occurred to me that I am the rebel in my family…I felt liberated as if the puzzle pieces finally fell into place.

I may not be a rebel in the traditional sense- no underage drugs or drinking or wild parties or sex- but I will never live up to my parents’ standards. Before, I tried. I was quiet and accommodating. I was the first to admit I was wrong and apologize. What I wouldn’t have done to get a crumb of approval from my mother.

Being Realistic

But now I realize—-no. I accept, that I will never have that. And, honestly, I don’t need it. Of course, I still would love to be accepted by my own mother, but I know that is an impossibility. Enough with holding out hope. This isn’t a fictional novel. There is no magic moment. There is no perfect family. There are better families and there are worse families. No amount of wondering and waiting will change who we are.

I’ve known for years that there is no point trying to change other people, but I always felt I didn’t have to. I watched too much T.V. read too many idealist books. I believed my mother had to love me simply because I was her daughter. I was wrong. And I know I was wrong plain as day, because when I expressed a similar feeling to her (the fact that she had to take care of me because I was her daughter), my mother replied, “no, I could have thrown you away.” She proceeded to tell preadolescent me about mothers who literally throw their children in the garbage or otherwise abandon them.

Not the Last Time I Heard those Words…

And I am reminded of a similar statement my first therapist told me once. She said, “I don’t have to like you- that’s not part of my job- but I do.” Which was terrifying (due to the similar structure and meaning of the message), but ultimately heartwarming because of the final statement. My mother did not end her sordid tales with a positive statement.

I suppose that is why I have the urge to end my depressing posts here on a positive note….and why I have an intense fear of abandonment, and why, in the past, I tried so hard to get people to either like me or simply be invisible. By high school, it was easier to be invisible.

These are only a few of the thoughts that circle around in my head making it difficult to sleep at night until I pass out from exhaustion or until it is light out and several months of avoiding writing have passed, as well as the memories that haunt me. So, I type up my usual word vomit about my mommy issues that may be relatable to some, but is ultimately pointless and pathetic for myself.

I am a Failure by my Family’s Eyes….but I don’t have to be in one in mine

To end this on a positive note, I am comforted in accepting my new place in my family as the rebel. I know that my parents no longer expect me to be the perfect daughter they hoped I would be, because I am so far away from that ideal. It is sad to shatter my parents’ hopes and expectations of me, but I don’t believe in those expectations. I do not believe my place is in the kitchen, or that I must live at home until I find a husband, or that anything less than perfection is unsatisfactory.

Maybe I’m letting my parents down, but I am building myself up. Their time is up. They had their shot at molding me into the person they hoped I would be. The rest is up to me.

Yet, I feel like a failure almost everyday. A failure in what, though? I don’t know what I want for my life! So, how have I failed in a sport I’ve yet to pick, let alone participate in? I’ve been judging myself for my ability to climb trees when I am a fish. I don’t know what exactly to work towards and, in the process, feel like a failure for, but there is a whole ocean for me to figure that out. I just know my parents are good people who raised me to the best of their ability, but I am also a good person getting by as best I can.

It’s okay that our good is not the same. I just have to stop comparing the two and trust in myself for myself. Years ago, I learned I can not please everyone and that not everyone in this world will like me. Just today I learned that as heartbreaking as it can feel, this includes my parents. They may be ashamed and embarrassed by some of my life choices, but I was not born to please them (despite some of their ideals that argue this point).

What I Must Do Now

I may live in their house, but more than that, I live in my mind, my body. Therefore, I get to decide what I do. It’s high time I made myself a priority. Last time I said this, I meant it. And I followed through, however I was focused on the wrong part. I was focused on running away- escaping my feelings (and my mother) by distracting myself in movie theaters and moving out. I was wrong. The answer is not going out, but going in- into my mind.

I need to come face to face with myself and my fears in order to work through what it is that I really want out of this life I did not choose. It is scary, but if I don’t, I fear I will be stuck in limbo until an event so powerful rocks me from my stagnant place- be it wonderful or tragic.

I don’t want to begin this frightening journey, but I must- if only to get out of the habit of falling asleep for the night at 9am the next day because my life feels so lonely and empty.

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P.S.

I know I am not alone. Thank you for reading, sincerely. It will be a long process and I don’t know how quickly or linear that process will be. However, I hope for myself and also for this blog, that I do seek and sustain improvements in my life. I want to document this. I want to remember where I was and how far I’ve gone in the future. So, I will be starting a YouTube channel.

I know…I’m not the most consistent person, so it’s a bit crazy to start such a big project…but whether the channel lasts or even becomes well watched, it’s part of my journey and you are welcome to join it. I’ll have more details soon. Thanks again, friends.

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Onto the Next – Personal Poetry Collection

Basically, I don’t believe there is such a thing as enough. And it terrifies me. So, I constantly jump to the next thing hoping that becomes enough “enough” for me.

 

December 12, 2019

Onto the Next

There is no end

my friends

they say,

“don’t delay

soon will be your day!”

 

But next thing I know

I’m outside a new door

cold and sore

no space to soar

too quiet to roar

time to pick up an oar.

 

And to the next river go.

What happens when at sea?

At peace will I be?

or…

is there more to see?

 

 

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Note:

Picture from Pexel’s Free Photo Library

 

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Will You Accept Me as I Am? – Personal Poetry Collection

I wrote this poem in different colored permanent markers in my art journal, hence the different colored text. It’s about acknowledging I’m a work in progress and hoping the people in my life accept and support my crazy form of progression.

 

December 12, 2019

Will You Accept Me as I Am?

please forgive me all my ails.

for I have not yet set sail

The grit still on my nails

and self doubt like hail

 

All around me the storm begins

Will you seek shelter?

or through the chaos grin?

 

I wish, for you, I had more to give.

I know this is no way to live

My mind like a sieve.

you, yes

me, moot

my life is a fib.

 

Ever since the crib.

until now – ad lib

 

Let me cry.

Let me fall.

Let me get high

then let me stall

until I do it again.

 

 

 

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Note:

Picture from Pexel’s Free Photo Library

Posted in My Life Now, Texas- Living with Parents

New Year’s Resolutions for 2020 – Progress as of May 1st

April Update

 

blue tape measuring on clear glass square weighing scale
1) Weight Loss

  • Lose enough weight to be classified as overweight at a BMI of 24.9 or less (weight loss of about 30 pounds)

    • Overall: 
      • BMI still about 35.2 like it was in December. 😦
    • April
      • Gained back those 5 pounds. Back to a BMI of 35. :/
      • Hadn’t weighed myself for the first three weeks of April. I didn’t even care I’d lost 5 pounds. I hadn’t done anything for that to happen. When I gained them back I was disappointed and didn’t want to think about my weight so I ignored it until the last week of April when I started weighing myself daily.
      • I’m still fluctuating between 34.7ish (obese category 1) to 35.2ish (obese category 2) BMI. Yeah, it sucks, but I’m not exercising much anymore (I used to go run, swim, and bike at the gym). Now, I do short home workouts. Just started doing them and it was 5 times a week but only like 30 minutes a day, maybe.
    • March
      • Haven’t lost or gained weight as of March 22nd still 34.4 BMI
    • February
      • Lost weight to achieve a BMI of 34.4 (obese category I) by February 4th
      • Stayed pretty much stable the following week at a BMI of 34.5 by Feb. 10th
      • Gained a pound to a BMI of 34.7 by Feb. 17th
      • Lost that pound. Back to starting weight in February by March 2nd (BMI 34.4)
    • January
      • Gained weight to my highest BMI of 35.2 (obese category II)

 

tilt shift lens photography of five assorted vegetables
2) Get a job in my Profession
  • Get a job as a dietitian (preferably a clinical dietitian)

    • Overall: 
      • Applied to 14 dietetic positions since January
      • Rejected by 5
      • No response from 8
      • Offered 1, but I declined it.
      • As of April, this is not a current goal.
    • April
      • The second job I applied to in West Texas responded. I did a video call interview and they offered me a dietetic supervisor position for the six or so clinics in the area. I turned it down. Yeah. I’m insane. First place to throw me a bone and I reject it.
      • I decided to take a gamble and work on other interests of mine instead of focusing on job hunting in my field of dietetics. If I get a job in dietetics great; if not, that’s fine too. I’m doing interpreter training at the moment, so after completing it and taking the certification exams, I’ll be searching for a medical interpreting job.
    • March
      • Applied to two more dietetic positions on March 25th. This time in West Texas. 
      • One hospital decided to close the dietitian position due to coronavirus. The other has not responded.
    • February
      • Applied to three PRN clinical dietitian positions (February 3rd and 4th)
      • Applied to 5 full time, 1 part time and 2 on call dietitian positions on February 25th Rejected by 2 thus far and no reply from the rest as of yet.
    • January
      • Finished new licensure requirements such as payment and continuing education planning
      • Applied to one full time clinical dietitian position

 

people in swimming pool
3) Complete a Triathlon

Continue reading “New Year’s Resolutions for 2020 – Progress as of May 1st”

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

Doodle Flowers – Personal Poetry Collection

Ooooh, I remember this one. It’s about someone I considered a friend who would ask for my help constantly, which I gave to her gladly, but when I needed a friend she wasn’t there for me. Instead, I would doodle flowers in my notebook to soothe my anxiety.

January 2019

Doodle Flowers

Softly they bloom

Somehow they soothe

Those little flowers

Like little sprites

 

Working their magic

Isn’t it tragic?

The need

from a friend?

 

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Note:

Photo is of the doodle flowers referred to in the poem. I remember flipping to a random page to fill with flowers just to occupy my hands and mind. I don’t remember why I was stressed or what my “friend” refused to help me through, but I remember the flowers.

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection

My Relationships – Personal Poetry Collection

Aw man… This poem makes me sad. What was I going through when I wrote it? It sounds like the opposite of my first (and only) relationship. Like, if this were the perspective of me over-correcting in a future relationship. So much, that the roles are now reversed. This is why I write a little intro paragraph to my poems. I would like to remember a bit of the why or feelings associated. I am confused but mostly saddened by this poem.

 

January 23, 2019

My Relationships

You give

I take

 

You take

I cry

 

Because in my mind’s eye

You are saying goodbye

 

As I try to buy your love

you sigh and say,

Continue reading “My Relationships – Personal Poetry Collection”

Posted in Dietetic Internship in Puerto Rico, Personal Poetry Collection

Go Home. – Personal Poetry Collection

As surprised as I am that I haven’t published this poem yet, I understand. This one came from such raw pain. I wrote it immediately after “I Wasn’t Always Mute” when I was waiting for a phone call from my dietetic internship director to scold my internship partner and me. I questioned everything in those moments. My future profession, my choice of internship, and most importantly, if my hardships would be worth it. Man… I feel the desperation simply in my handwriting. I still wonder if I made the best choice… Over a year later, I still don’t know.

 

October 26, 2018

Go Home.

I don’t want this.

Isn’t that simple?

Don’t want.

Don’t do.

 

I. am. a. fool.

Continue reading “Go Home. – Personal Poetry Collection”

Posted in Personal Poetry Collection, Texas- Living with Parents

Seeking Solitude – Personal Poetry Collection

I was listening to music and watching videos about art when I wished I had the artistic ability to draw what I felt. Something like a balloon surrounded by cacti. Or a dark room pierced by pinpricks of blinding light. Then I remembered the art of written words: poetry. So I wrote this about relaxing on a hammock and having that peace incessantly interrupted by my parents and intruding thoughts of the past ending in my current struggle of finding my home. 

 

April 8, 2020

Seeking Solitude

 

Moments imagined, savored, and soothing

I forge, however flitting and farce it seems-

‘till two tutting awkward quavering people

appear to gawk, talk, and cluck. 

 

Face away, face away

feel the wind whisper “freedom” 

and you stay and you stay

within the heart of the storm.

Silence your mind, open your shut eyes

find your way, back to reality someday.

Feel your bones and body ache, but 

fight the urge to fly.

 

Tap! At the window or the door?

No, just the windows of my soul

trepid finger positioned recklessly–

tauntingly by my cheek. 

I can’t even squeak.

Taut smile, roll over–

Bump! Triumphant, thoughtless thumps

from that rump.

 

Back inside.

Wrapped in flimsy threads

Oh, remember being told you need meds?

Remember reaching out?

Then being told only a professional could clear your doubts.

 

Sunlight.

I am not in that dark room 

there are not tears streaming down my face

there is no nasty text screaming at me.

It’s me.

It’s always been me.

 

I’m here, but should I be?

Who decides?

Doesn’t feel like me…

 

Just let me go. 

Let me frown and let me drown.

Because the air you use–

now all Co2–

turns me blue.

 

Sunlight!

Please don’t stray!

I know I have no say…

and this to them is play

just, please tell me-

Should I stay?

 

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Note:

Picture was likely taken by my cousin. You can see a 14 year old me in the bottom right.