A few weeks ago, my watch documented that I went on a walk and burned 330 calories in about an hour. I was actually sitting in the ICU doing chart reviews on my patients for the day. The following are my thoughts I wrote after this happened.
I know anxiety and other mental health and really even just mood and mentality in general are NOT just in people’s heads. These things have physical effects. And if anything, I have the evidence that I did have noticable physical effects from it just now. And yet…
Most of the time I still tell myself I’m exaggerating. Even now with data right in front of me I’m telling myself it’s a fluke and it really is just in my head and I’m fine. Or if the data isn’t a mistake, then there’s something physiologically wrong with me and that’s all it is.
When I say this job and current phase of my life is killing me. I do mean it literally. The amount of stress, anxiety, hopelessness, unhealthy eating, lack of sleep, and insufficient exercise and negative mental environment during the majority of my day are slowly killing me. I’ve seen it in my own medical labs, in my heart rate just now, and multiple times a week when I breakdown before succumbing to sleep and repeating the whole cycle all over again.
And I know there are steps that can be taken to get out of this vicious cycle. I continue doing what I can, but every setback makes it that much harder to get up the next time. I don’t know if I can do this anymore.
You know the worst part? My job is to go up to people, people just like me, stuck in ruts and their own devastating cycles and tell them to eat their vegetables, maybe not sit on the couch after work until bedtime stressing about everything there is to be stressed about, and instead go for a walk or meal prep some overnight oats. That’s what I don’t think I can do anymore.
How do you tell someone the truth, that by not prioritizing what they eat, how much they exercise, how much sleep they get, and how stressed out they allow themselves to be, they are killing themselves faster than the cancer, renal failure, diabetes, heart failure, etc? How do you tell that to someone who knows all that and wants to do better, desperately wants to help themself, but is homeless, in prison, barely able to provide for their children if they skip a few meals, or simply has so much else vying for their attention that they do not have the mental capacity to care about the food they consume?
I’ve seen and heard so much suffering. Yet, even when I am at my best, have all the energy and drive and positivity to give my patients the care they deserve, I feel like my efforts are pointless. At the end of the day I can only hope I’ve helped the people I’ve spoken to. I’ll never know for certain. The only people I know about after an interaction are the ones who come back a week or days later, often with the same problem, and often with the same nutritional/lifestyle solution that could, at the very least, lessen the severity of their illness. Or, I know of the ones who die at the hospital with or without my efforts.
Damn. I feel like I have been able to avoid writing for so long now. I don’t even know why, but it has been a point of pride for the last several months to not word vomit all over this blog anymore. I guess in a sense it felt like I had resolved all my issues or at the very least they weren’t overwhelming enough that I had to put them all out of my head. It felt like I could or was able to handle them if I kept them inside, contained and pushed down. But fine! I give up. I give in. Here I am.
Now, not a lot has changed. Although so much has since the last time I posted anything here. But this is not about that. YouTube channel did well until life happened and I stopped making it a priority. A lot of that has happened since then. It feels as if life is just a formality at this point. I don’t know what to do with it and often I feel guilty about that. I feel guilty about a lot of things. Darn, I really do not type as fast as I used to. That’s frustrating. But I am a much better speller, I suppose. Welp that’s making me mess up. Okay, tangent. Stop that. Anyway…
One big thing I feel guilty about is semi new. Since having a partner that seemingly loves me and cares about me, I feel guilty at times for wanting love and attention because it feels like I want things done or solved for me in a sense. It feels like a free pass to continue with my horrible coping mechanisms and ignore whatever is bothering me. Especially when it comes to my good ol’ pal self hatered. That’s a really easy one to fall back on.
And usually- when I was in a better state of mind- I would sing or read or something constructive to work these feelings out or – shocker!- I’d actually sit with my feelings, write it out, and then do something to directly work on it. For example, the problem I keep coming back to and continue to ignore is about my self image and how much I dislike it. Recently…over the past year or more, I have been ignoring it and just letting it get worse over time. Pretty easy when I have someone who embraces me and actively wants me to get out of that mind set. It’s easy when there is someone else there to forgive my mess ups and terrible coping mechanisms.
Which makes it so much easier to cope with things in the worst possible way for the problem. Maybe this is the masochist in me speaking, but I think I do better, and maybe most people do to a certain extent, when there are consequences. I mean, for what I’m abstractly talking about now, if I hate myself and my body and my natural catastrophic reaction to this is to binge eat and talk negatively about myself then this makes me feel bad then….eventually….I get to a point where I can’t take the self abuse any longer and I make a ton of radical changes and if I somehow am able to pace myself and make these things gradual, I have successfully been able to make real meaningful changes in how I see myself and how I handle my issues. Something in that mechanism is obviously broken and has been broken long before I found someone that is much more forgiving of me than myself, but I don’t really have the time or energy to go into that right now.
What I want to explore is the idea that since I’ve been in a relationship, this cycle is even more foreign and unknown and tumultuous. Nowadays if I absolutely hate myself and everything I do/every glimpse in a mirror or other horrific self reflective media, I have someone there to tell me …..ugh, not that my self hatred isn’t true. well. Actually maybe yeah. Maybe that’s exactly what is happening. I feel a certain way about myself which is largely negative and I’m being told by someone I love and trust the complete opposite. I obviously do not believe it myself, but I believe that my partner believes it. And that is usually enough to ahhh I don’t want to say invalidate my feelings, because that sounds mean and wrong and completely the opposite of what any loving partner is trying to do…but maybe that’s part of it.
It sounds absurd, but that’s pretty much what is happening. I say, “I’m disgusting” only to be told that, “no, [I’m] not”. It’s a direct contradiction and the strange, trippy thing about this is it becomes a trust thing. Who’s point of view do I trust more? Often times, it ends up being anyone’s point of view but mine….. So, does that mean I am the one invalidating myself?! *sigh
You see? This is why I don’t- didn’t- I guess still almost wish I hadn’t come here to write. Why I’ve been avoiding it. Other than I also think my writing must suck now, since I am so out of practice when even so, I didn’t think highly of my writing to begin with. Gosh. This is the cycle. I think it’s a cycle at least. I hope it still is. Like I was saying: self hatred leads to emotional rock bottom leads to taking steps out of the ditch leads to improvement with my self worth leads to tripping over obstacles leads to tumbling down leads to harder and harder to ignore self hatred because that never really went away, just the behaviors stemming from it being manhandled into healthier actions which ultimately leads to the cycle repeating.
With someone who loves me I feel like I get stuck at the bottom. Feeling emotionally at rock bottom, but being told I’m not there and trusting the other person about that, because logically I know I’m not really the scum of the earth. But in not fully and completely hating myself like I am used to my infinitely messed up mind can not comprehend that it’s time to start climbing out of the ditch. So I stay.
I guess moral of the story is I don’t know who to let myself be loved. I take love– no! I can’t even take the love. I– love is in my life and somehow it’s like oil and water or maybe more like mixing all the paints together to make a grotesque murky color. Love and I don’t mix. I don’t know how to take love and grow with it.
And this is what I was afraid of. This. I have so much to do to get to a point where I even tolerate myself- let alone love myself. And I was on my way there. It’s awful to the mainstream sense of love, because I was really enjoying getting to know myself and working on being kind to myself, but I just have not taken the time to do that since having someone else in my life to love. That sounds stupid, but it’s true. It’s also fucking sad when the person you hate- and thus have immense difficulty loving- is you.
I think that’s it. I don’t know how to give anyone going through the same thing hope. I’m not mentally in a space for that. I wish it was as simple as people make it seem. *fake super positive voice: Yeah! Just love yourself, eat healthy, be active, laugh with friends! BLEH. It’s not. Once again, I’m sorry I tend to only come on here one in a blue moon and also usually only to share the grim thoughts on my mind. I don’t know what will happen from here on out. Will I ever not hate myself for more than a couple months at a time? (if that!) I don’t know. I hope so. But even if I do it’s not necessarily something I can teach anyone else. I wish it was. Maybe I wouldn’t be on here trying to decipher it for myself or anyone else who has the time and, for whatever reason, desire to read my word spittle. Anyway….good luck to us all, I guess.
My instinct is to reach out to people. As I write this, it is 6:40 AM. I have not gone to sleep for the night and I feel unsettled. I feel on the verge of an anxiety attack yet I feel numb. I’m not sure how to describe it. The thing is I want human connection… which is something I never thought I would want at a moment like this. I was taught to never show my vulnerabilities to people. Not even, especially not, to my family. Feelings, especially negative ones, are a burden especially to others. So they are shameful. They must be kept secret.
I learned to only share the best parts of myself. I became the comic relief. Even if you don’t think I’m funny or if a joke didn’t land I would turn that failure into the joke. I preferred people look at me as stupid or silly or anything… but real. Now however… amongst all my friends… I find myself wanting to be their person. I want to be the person they turn to if they ever need to vent. I want to take their pain away. Any pain, at any time. I have been that friend who answers calls at 3 AM. Meanwhile, it’s 6:46AM and I feel lost.
The Selfless Friend
I have been very frustrated these past few weeks because I know a friend of mine is struggling at the moment. I’m worried about her. We had a great in depth chat about a month ago, but life’s busy and we haven’t been able to meet up since then. She opened up and told me about some very real and cruel treatment she’s been getting from people close to her. This makes me incredibly angry for her. I wish I could help her. She doesn’t deserve it and frankly no one does. I’ve been through similar issues, but not to that extent. Regardless of that, I just want her to know I am here with whatever I can do for her…
but she won’t ask anything of me. And that hurts my soul. I want so badly to be there for her. I reached out for a time and kept asking to hang out when she had a spare second. Nothing fancy, just going for a drive or even just studying together. (We are both stressed out about college classes among other things.) This person is the most selfless person I know and it hurts that I can’t treat her even a fraction of the way as well as she has treated me in all these years of friendship.
I understand though. I don’t push it. Years ago, I was the same way. I would rather walk through fire than ask even the smallest favor from anyone. I made my life so complicated. Maybe this isn’t everyone, but there are kind, caring people out there and a lot of them naturally want to help. To an extent I would say we as human beings are conditioned to be helpful. Not everyone, of course, but think about it. After we do something good for someone, we feel good. If that’s not positive reinforcement, I don’t know what is.
My point is, I did not see it that way. I still saw my role in life as a helper. I was meant to help others not to be helped. It wasn’t until I lived on my own in university and began therapy that I was able to let go of this idea that if I wasn’t helping others, I was hurting them. Now I ask. I’m okay with showing the people close to me that I would like their help and in some cases that I can’t do something (or it will be unnecessarily difficult) without them. I have learned to trust that the friends I keep will not maintain score or throw whatever I struggle with back in my face. Part of that was learning my worth and only keeping friends that respect me, but I digress.
This is a lesson my friend has to learn on her own. I know she will one day love herself as much as me and her other friends do… but I know that will take time. I can’t force her to open up to me and honestly, even when she does, I never know what to say. I’m best at listening. Yet, I think that’s okay. From my understanding, that’s a main problem she deals with. She takes it upon herself to take care of everyone in her life that she does all the listening/understanding and very little of the speaking/being understood. I just want her to know she’s heard. That I hear her and I care. …all I can do is be here when she’s ready. And I will be.
Comment from my Ex that I Can’t Get Out of my Head
What does this have to do with it being 7:06AM and me writing a post for my long forgotten blog? The reason I’m here right now is that I find this pattern with more than just her. I have another friend who, whenever I talk to him I feel guilty. He’s an amazing listener and makes me feel so comfortable being real with him. I am a complete open book with him, because I have come to trust him. I don’t believe he would ever intentionally hurt me or judge me or anything like that. Yet. He opens up sometimes to me, but I feel like it’s not enough. I feel like he’s so much better at being supportive than I am.
I don’t mean this as a competition, rather as an unbalanced relationship. Thing is, I’m not sure if this is in my head or if it is a real thing he might be feeling too. Further complicating this is a past comment from my ex that still plagues me. We tried to stay friends after the break up. For me this meant, keeping the spoken relationship the same. Conversations were still open and honest. Only difference was no physical relationship or flirting and no what I would call couple talk (being too involved in his personal life like good morning, good night texts or planning for the future, that sort of thing). To me those were the things that made a relationship a romantic one. However one day, my ex told me that I was still talking to him like we were together.
If I trust you, you better get ready, because I will tell you the backstory to anything you ask. I will let you see all of my scars, dreams, and fears. I will not hold back. It doesn’t matter if you are my friend or romantic partner. The verbal intimacy for me is the same. Hearing his comment made me so insecure. It made me feel like I was being that stereotypical, clingy, pushy girl burdening the stereotypical, strong, stoic male. I know better now, but I still can’t shake the feeling he instilled in me. Now, especially with men, (because I was raised with that gender as my eventual future spouse) I feel so conflicted. As long as I can remember I’ve felt more comfortable around males than females. We are not diving into that right now as this post is long enough already.
As I got older that transformed from hanging out with groups of guys to developing strong relationships with only a couple people who became confidants of sorts for me. Whatever the reason, I went into adulthood trusting guys with more of my thoughts and feelings than anyone else. Can you see why my ex’s comment affected me as much as it did? Essentially what I got out of that conversation is, “See these group of people you’ve trusted most for pretty much your whole life? Yeah, you’re making a fool of yourself. You’re being the annoying, needy, girl you’ve never wanted to be by being open and real with these people. How pathetic.”.
Obviously, this is my interpretation of it and he likely has no idea how much that offhand comment affected me, but I still can’t shake it. I find myself naturally sharing more with my guy friends. Thankfully they are wonderful men who do not make me feel guilty for speaking about myself and my feelings. They are amazingly supportive of everything I do which is pretty much the opposite of my ex. Yet! I still feel guilty. I feel like I talk too much, I’m too self absorbed and I’m that stereotypical girl that I don’t want to be.
My friends have not complained, but maybe they are too kind to do so. I’ve had some blunt (read: mean) friends who have straight up told me to shut up before. Multiple times… Like I said though, I believe the friends I have now are kinder and more supportive. Maybe they wouldn’t say anything no matter how annoying or how much of a burden I am. Or, on the other hand, maybe they are like me and they find joy in being there for me. Thing is, I want to be there for them too. …but I can’t force other’s to open up to me as previously discussed and even if they do, again I feel like I suck at supporting them.
Is there a Point to this Mess?
Are you still here? I really can’t understand why as many people read my blog as they once did. I say “once did” because it’s been months since I’ve published anything and I don’t blame anyone for forgetting about my blog. If this reaches one person I’d be shocked. Everything I write for this wretched blog of mine is basically word vomit with either 20 or 0 points.
Time for the big reveal! Guess what I originally came on here to write about? How I feel anxious and generally not okay right now. How I’m surprised that instead of self isolating and bottling up my feelings like I had been taught to do for years, I want to reach out to someone and talk things out or even just be in someone else’s presence and feel better by that alone. However… something stops me. Even the friends I feel comfortable going to with my innermost feelings… I feel like a hassle or like I’ll be too much. I want to talk, but the only thing I let myself want is to listen.
I wouldn’t mind not even talking about my problems. At this point I just want company. I have good friends…but everyone is busy. If they’re not, the problem is me because I won’t allow myself to vent. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone or have them find me as too much. I grew up told I was dramatic and that I was too sensitive. My feelings were dismissed and invalidated. Now, I don’t need anyone to do that for me. I invalidate myself easily and frequently. This whole post in fact, I think, is one big dramatic of mine. I feel like I don’t make any sense and I’m complaining for nothing.
After all, my friends are great. If I told them I was struggling right now, I know they would support me however they could…the problem (as usual in my mind) is me. Whatever the reason, I’m the one scared to open up now. That’s on me.
Ultimately, I don’t think this post had a point. I’m sorry for wasting your time and mine on this trash heap. It’s 7:47AM. I guess I’ll go keep waiting for one of my friends to want to hang out. I asked a couple of them for like three days to hang out to which they said definitely but either made no specific plans or had to reschedule…. so I’m going to stop being a bother and just wait until they want to. No more pushing. I don’t like being needy… or begging anyone for anything. Wanting to be in the presence of other human beings should be mutual for it to be the most enjoyable, I think.
Man, I think I need therapy round… whatever number I’m on, because clearly I still have some unresolved issues… Moral of the pointlessly long post: go to therapy. This is your sign. If you can, do it. Believe it or not, I used to be much more messed up. If you don’t believe me, read the story about why I began going to therapy in the first place… Okay, I’ll stop now. Get back to your lives. I hope it’s less chaotic than whatever I just wrote!
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.
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.)
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
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.
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.
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.
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)
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
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.
My Dragonfly Life 