Tag Archives: Self-Care

Discovery, Doubt, Greatness, Growth, Mental Health, Mindfulness, Reflections, Self-Care, Self-Love, Wellness, Writing

I Still Believe

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I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of being patient. When will my time come? I knew going into this that I wasn’t going to get immediate results. I knew that it would take time, effort, and patience. So, I did what I needed to do: I put my head down and got to work. It was meant to be a two-pronged approach that kept me focused in the interim. It allowed me to perfect my storytelling craft in quiet, while still having something to show for it on this platform. But I can’t help but feel like I haven’t really gotten any closer to where I wanna go. It’s gotten increasingly harder for me to maintain my focus.

At first, it was easy for me to ignore all the distractions. I knew that my quality of writing needed to improve drastically if I wanted to make this work. It wasn’t particularly difficult to keep my head down then, since in my mind it was a tangible goal to reach for—even if the line between not good enough and where I need to be was rather blurry. But now that I’ve leveled up to a place that I feel good about, I feel like I’d like something more. I’ve spent enough time toiling in the workshop, I want to show the world what I’ve learned and how much I’ve improved. I feel like I have a lot to offer to the people around me. Unfortunately, I continue to learn time and time again that what I want isn’t necessarily what the universe is willing to provide. In fact, it seems that more often than not the two don’t align at all.

It seems that love, support, and appreciation is hard to come by these days. It just feels like no matter what I do or how hard I try I just can’t get the backing that I’m looking for. I understand that people don’t care about the same things that I care about. Most people aren’t going to prioritize mental health or writing or poetry the way that I do. That’s just the honest truth. I’m not so naive that I’ll believe otherwise. And I’m not so arrogant or entitled to believe that I’m owed anything from anyone. However, I feel like I should at least get what I deserve—I should get as much out of it as I put into it. That’s only fair, right? Unfortunately, I continue to learn the hard way that life isn’t fair either. The scale isn’t balanced. And perhaps karma is just a fallacy. A concept that’s better in theory than it is in practice. Merely an ideal and not reality. 

You have no idea how much it pains me to say that. While I’m not going to go so far as to proclaim that, “karma is a lie,” I have to accept that there’s a possibility that it isn’t a law of the universe like I want to believe. I’m not sure when exactly it happened, but for some time now, a large component of my ethos has been the concept of meritocracy. You get what you give. You’re rewarded according to your skill and what you’re able to provide. If you work hard and do good, blessings will come to you. If you insert positive energy into the world, you’ll receive positive energy in turn. Good ideals to have, but I’ve started to wonder as well, whether or not this is rooted in truth.

For the last four years or so, I was so confident that I had the right of it. All I had to do was put in the time, effort and energy, and things would come together for me. While I still want to believe that, and will continue to operate like it’s true, I’m just not so sure anymore. My hard work hasn’t paid off yet. Again, I understand that it takes time, but I guess I just thought things would play out differently. I thought what I had to offer the world would be well-received. That’s not how things have gone, to say the least. While I haven’t received outright hate or negativity (at least, not in a long time), I’ve received quite a bit of apathy and indifference, which frankly, I’m getting rather tired of. Of course, I was expecting such a reception—it’s the life of a starving artist after all (name me a group of people more misunderstood than creatives, I’ll wait)—but I had thought it’d be to a lesser degree. 

I almost feel like I prefer the former rather than the latter. Hate and negativity is easier to tune out, especially if you’re confident and know your worth. You know what you’re capable of. If you’ve been busting your ass at something you’re passionate about, you will improve—that’s just a fact of life. At some point, you will reach a baseline competency in the quality of your product and your skillset. Your haters and doubters won’t have a leg to stand on. Anything they say will come off as petty jealousy or spite. Easy to ignore because you know that what they have to say is neither meaningful nor true. There’s nothing that needs to be read into further, because how they feel about you is out in the open.

Not so when it comes to indifference. When it comes to indifference nothing is overt or straightforward. It’s a cloak and dagger operation rife with obfuscation, projection, and misunderstanding/misinterpretation. How exactly are you supposed to read into the lack of action? Do they not care? If so, why not? Does what you have to say not matter to them? Do you not matter to them? Or do they simply not understand what it is you’re trying to do? How exactly are you supposed to know without confronting them? Finding out the truth will likely lead to uncomfortable situations, however. Easier then to decide to just leave things as they are—keep the truth hidden somewhere in the dark. But that’s never sat well with me. It feels too much like a game of chicken. One party is too afraid to ask the other how they truly feel, and the other party isn’t willing to commit, for whatever reason. Which leaves us at an impasse which will never be resolved unless someone budges.

I dunno about you, but I’m too old to be playing such games. If you’re on my side then prove it. Actions speak louder than words. Don’t just tell me you want to see me succeed, show it to me. I don’t think I’m asking for much here. If you care about me (or cared about me once) then you should care about the work that I do. It’s as simple as that. No fakery or hidden meanings. Do I matter to you? Yes or no? That’s a question for you to ponder, and one that I’m going to condition myself to ignore. Easier said than done, of course—like most things. But something I have to keep reminding myself of, because at the end of the day, what you think about my work doesn’t actually matter. I’m not saying that your opinion doesn’t matter, to be clear. I’m saying that your opinion about what I’m doing is irrelevant to my goal(s). 

Throughout life there will be people who support you and people that will doubt you. You will have lovers and you will have haters. People will praise you and people will shit on you. These are facts of life. You can’t please everybody because everybody is different. Some worldviews align with each other, and some clash. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you’ll realize that all feedback is noise, good or bad. Criticism, constructive or otherwise, either helps you improve or it gets in your way. You take what’s beneficial, and you throw out the rest. 

That being said, I’m not going to beg. I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for support to come from the indifferent—that’s never going to happen. I’m not going to throw a pity party and say, “woe is me…” I already did enough of that in my youth. Instead, I will focus on me and what I can do. How can I be a better writer? How can I be a better mental health advocate? How can I be a better storyteller, poet, editor or what have you? How can I live the life that I think I deserve? I can only control what I can control. And it starts with my effort and my consistency. I can’t let up for a second. I can’t afford to lose my focus. I can’t let anything get in the way of my goal. Some day I’ll get to where I wanna go, but only if I keep following through. There’s no such thing as failure, only lessons. The only way I fail is if I give up. And I’ll tell you this much: that ain’t happening, as long as the passion is there. You might not believe in me, but I believe in me. And that’s all that matters. 

Brokenness, Changing, Depression, Discovery, Growth, Healing, Mental Health, Mindfulness, Nature, Self-Care, Self-Love, Wellness, Writing

Finally Feeling Appreciative

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All these years I’ve never really had an appreciation for nature. Birds annoyed me. Scenery was boring. I hated raking the leaves and shoveling the snow. But most of all, I just didn’t really like being outside. There was too much pollen, too much dirt, not enough things to do. Weak excuses, I know! I just wasn’t the most active kid. I would ride my bike around the neighborhood in the summer. And I would snowboard or tube in the backyard (or hit the slopes, of course) in the winter. As a family, we would go on the occasional hike or camping trip. But aside from that, I spent most of my free time indoors—I preferred to be in my room. 

Growing up, my mom used to take us to the library all the time. I can’t say what drew me in exactly, but naturally, I gravitated towards fantasy and sci-fi—that interest has only strengthened over time. That being said, fantasy being what it is, I spent many a day immersed in wild landscapes. Reading about forests and oceans. Over the hill and through the woods. You know, heroes embarking on adventures and all that. Which should lend itself to love and appreciation for nature, right? Wrong! I liked nature in theory, but not in practice. I wandered the deserts and the plains on the page, but couldn’t be bothered to do it in person.

Fast forward to high school. Some things changed, but many others didn’t. I remember reading (and writing) quite a lot of poetry all four years. It was my first love, even if I didn’t want to admit it for a long time. There’s one unit that’s still particularly vivid in my mind. It was the winter of sophomore or junior year, the entire term was spent reading poetry. We started with the Brooding Romantics, then we moved onto Transcendentalism, and we ended with a third movement that I can’t seem to remember the name of (Realism maybe?). As you would expect, many a poem touched upon flora and fauna, scenery and wildlife. Sure, each one was super descriptive, sounded great, and was beautifully crafted, but I never truly understood it. I could picture the scene in my mind, but I could’t see the appeal in it, or appreciate the beauty. Nature just didn’t seem to resonate with me. I tried again and again to see things from their perspective but I just couldn’t do it.

The fact of the matter is I just didn’t have much appreciation for life in general. I wasn’t one to count my blessings or see things with rose-colored lenses or consider the glass to be half-full. I was more likely to mope or feel sorry for myself or focus on what I lacked. My vision was clouded by my hurt. I had too much bitterness and resentment in my heart to allow for love to come in. And without love, there is no appreciation. I know that full well now. Without love, everything dies. Without love, there is no joy or happiness or peace. Without love, there is only pain and hardship and bitterness. Everything needs love, everything starts with love.

I understand that finding a romantic partner is particularly difficult for some. But that’s not actually what I’m trying to get at here. When I say that, “everything starts with love,” I mean that everything starts with self-love. Unfortunately, that is easier said than done. I dunno what it is about our culture, but we’ve conditioned ourselves to be our biggest critics. We’re prone to self-deprecation and devaluing our worth. I suspect that oftentimes started out as a defense mechanism to protect us from bullying. “If I’m laughing at myself, then it means that they have no power over me.” But where do we draw the line? When does the self-deprecation go too far? When does it start to damage our ego and effect our self-confidence? I wish I knew the answers to these questions when I was younger. Perhaps my teenage years wouldn’t have been as rough. 

But as I’ve said before, we’re not able to change the past. Our trauma and our scars are a part of us, just as our passions and our interests are also. The good and the bad make us who we are. We can’t have strength without weakness. Positive without negative. Healing without hurting. That being said, my depression and my anxiety are a part of me. It’s a part of my history, but it’s also a part of my story. Even though I’ve found my healing, these are things I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. Depression isn’t a thing that’s over and done with, it’s something I have to fight every single day of every goddamn year. Despite what it seems, acknowledging that doesn’t mean that you’re giving it power. But rather, that you accept and love yourself as you are: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Your mental illness(es) are part of your story, but they don’t define you.

For a long time, that wasn’t something that I believed. Instead, I let the voices win. I bought into the lies that they told me. You’re worthless. You’re useless. You won’t amount to much. It seemed that my depression and anxiety would get in my way at every turn. And so they did until I finally ended up in therapy. Life was quite dark for me, trapped beneath a cloud of despair. I’ve vowed to never return to that melancholic state, but it’s a daily struggle for me (and for people like me). That’s just how it goes.

I’ll have good months and bad months, good weeks and bad weeks, good days and bad days. Some days are easier than others, some days I can be strong in my resolve. Others are tougher. But regardless, I will still fight. Battles will be hard fought, but the war will never be won. But that doesn’t mean that I give in. I just need to keep picking myself back up, dusting off my shoulders, and continuing forwards. Instead of cowering like I used to, I stare down my mental illness and say, “not today, motherfucker. I am in control of this life, not you.” Just because I’ve been dealt that card doesn’t mean that I’m going to let it hold me back. Not anymore. The going has been tough, and will continue to be, but I’ll be better for it in the end. I only come out of this stronger. Better. Wiser.

So, as I grow older, the acceptance and love for myself also grows. And with that comes appreciation. Appreciation for the things around me. Everything that I’ve been blessed with. The good and the bad. My strengths and my weaknesses. The lessons that I’ve learned. The trauma from my past. The brightness of my future. But most importantly, I’ve finally started to understand the thing that never made sense to me before. I’m finally able to appreciate the beauty of nature. The birds chirping in the morning. The scent of flowers in bloom. A trek through the forest. A walk along the beach. The stunning vistas from the mountaintops. Life can be abundant, and full of joy. It can be happy and fulfilling. It can also be busy and stressful. So don’t forget to take a moment to smell the roses. 

Growth, Mental Health, Mindfulness, Self-Care, Self-Love, Wellness

Feeling My Age

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“Act your age.” I’m sure everyone has heard that reprimand more than a few times in life. But what exactly does it mean? Is it even a reasonable thing to say? I’ll admit, this isn’t something I ever really challenged before. In truth, I didn’t challenge much when I was younger. Sure, I asked questions and let my curiosity lead me. But when an authority figure said something, I took what they said at face value. What were we supposed to do? We didn’t know any better, and we were always told to listen to and obey our elders. If what they told us was wrong, was it still in our best interest to do what we were told? The older I get, the more I wonder how many of the things they told us were misguided or flat out incorrect.

What can I say? Therapy has changed me. It’s made me more self-aware, and with that came learning how to self-reflect. I’m not able to look at things the same way anymore, no matter how hard I try. My perspective has changed, and I’m not the same person that I used to be. There was no point in fighting it, because it was inevitable. The more that I learned, the less ignorant I became. There was no possible way to reverse course. Once the door to wisdom and knowledge opened, there was no going backwards. It just wasn’t and isn’t possible. That being said, every memory or past experience can be and will be examined in a different light.

There’s nothing that tells me that I have to self-reflect on my own time. Theoretically, I could leave it solely to be done at therapy. However, it’s something that can’t be helped. I think a lot—that’s how I’ve always been. But just because I did a lot of it, didn’t necessarily mean that it was beneficial for me to do so. I had a tendency to overthink, dwell on the past, and fall into a cycle of loathing and self-pity, all of which is toxic energy. What I did was mull over things that couldn’t be changed. Instead of using my past to inform my future, I was reimagining the past by thinking of things I could’ve done differently. A wholly unhelpful exercise. It was thinking without action to follow, which is meaningless and wastes time. You can think over all the different changes you want to make in life, but until you take that first step towards actually doing something about it, your situation is going to remain the same. In order to live the life that you want to live, you have to take charge. 

Windows of opportunity can and will open up, but you need to pursue them and seek them out. It’s not often that things will just be handed to you. That’s not how life works. You’d have to be extremely lucky (or spoiled) for things to just fall into your lap. In order to be blessed you have to work towards those blessings. The life that you want is there for the taking, but you have to put in the work. It sounds rather obvious and intuitive. Why wouldn’t you work hard for the things that you want? But knowing it and living it are two different things. For twenty odd years I knew it, but I didn’t live it. It was something I knew on a surface level, but it wasn’t what drove me forwards in life. It didn’t resonate with me.

Not until I started working towards something. Not until I found my purpose and calling. Not until I found something that I’m good at and am passionate about. Not until I matured and grew up. I’ll be honest, I was a late bloomer—no shame in that. Each individual develops at their own pace, and as such, certain milestones are reached faster or slower, at different ages or stages of life. All of this is normal. Our variability is what makes us human. If we were all homogenous we’d be no different than robots, destined to follow the program that’s written for us. But that’s not who or what we are. We’re meant for great things, but it requires a certain level of work ethic, dedication, and perseverance—mental fortitude in short. 

Mental fortitude is something that’s developed over time, not something that’s taught or learned. Without it it’s easy to give up. It’s easy to back down when met with adversity. It’s easy to start believing the lies that we are told—the ones that tell us we’re not good enough, that we won’t amount to anything, that what we do isn’t meaningful. No one ever told me any of this outright, so where did these lies stem from? Yes, my depression and anxiety were both big factors in this. But I’m not the only one with this story. I’m not the only one who lacked self-confidence and had a warped sense of self-worth. I’m not the only one who struggled with the transition from childhood to puberty. I’m not the only one who had a hard time growing up.  

“Act your age.” A phrase that was seemingly innocuous for the longest time. I never thought anything of it. But I’ve recently come to the realization that a lot of what we were told when we were younger was actually quite damaging to our psyches, even if we didn’t know it at the time. What would such a statement do to an eight-year-old who’s misbehaving? What would it do for a pre-pubescent or a teenager who’s already having enough trouble finding themselves as is? Not a helpful phrase by any means, because, again, what exactly does it mean? If all individuals progress at different rates, then such a statement is inherently faulty. We’re left chasing a constantly moving target, looking to meet expectations that we’ll never live up to. 

It took me more than two and a half decades to finally break free of this. To finally stop living for other people, and start living for myself. I had let expectations and projections put a cap on my ceiling. Let what others said of me limit my potential. But no one knows me better than I know myself. I needed to do what was best for me. Starting with pursuing a career that was actually fulfilling, and seeking out the hobbies that I enjoyed. No longer worrying about how others perceived me, no longer feeling the need to suppress my true self. I realized that no one can tell me how I should live my life. Because when it comes down to it, not all advice is good advice, nor is all of it applicable to me. I take what works for me, and leave the rest.

So with that comes a time when I finally feel my age. For the longest time, I refused to grow up, refused to mature. Was just a kid stuck in an adult’s body. Acting, thinking, speaking the same way for all those years. I was stubborn and stuck in my ways. Knew that things weren’t working, but refused to try things a different way. I think part of it was fear—fear of failure, fear of disappointment, fear of the unknown. Part of it was being comfortable enough with where I was. And part of it was my anxiety telling me that I didn’t deserve any of it. Perhaps it was true that I didn’t deserve any flowers at the time. But it didn’t mean that I would never earn them. I just needed to try.

I just needed to find my purpose. Find my place in the world. And put in the effort to get to where I wanted to go. But most importantly, I needed to grow up and mature. None of which would’ve been possible if I hadn’t been forced out of my comfort zone. Nothing makes you turn into an adult quicker than being thrown out there into the real world. There comes a time in everyone’s life, when you find yourself at a crossroads. You can either keep acting the same way that you’ve always acted, or you can change, improve, and mature. You can either keep acting like a kid, or you can become an adult. At some point or another, you have to make the conscientious decision to grow up.

Art, people, Poetry, Self-Care, Self-Love

More Than Acquaintances/Less Than Friends

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I don’t know where it all went wrong
It had seemed so good while it lasted
But somewhere along the way something changed
Some obstacle came between us
Something got in our way

I thought we could become closer
But I guess I was sorely mistaken
This is the closest we’ll ever get
More than acquaintances but less than friends
So what does that make us?

I gave you everything I got, and I got less in return
I gave you my all, but you only gave me some
I feel like I give more than I get
Invest too much of my time and energy
But for me they don’t invest

It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last
Perhaps I’ll learn my lesson before the next
I give too much and I get too little
I thought this would work out
I thought we could be close

We’re more than acquaintances but less than friends
What does that make us?
I thought we could be closer
Tried to put in my all
It’s evident to me now that this is our ceiling

Stuck in no man’s land with nowhere left to go
I’ll learn my lesson eventually—invest in you less
Use my time and energy to build myself up
Focus on what I need to do
With or without your help

My path is what matters most
And my needs should come first
If I don’t prioritize myself then how will I get what I deserve?
I’m working towards something
And I’ll get what I earn

I need to put my head down and get to work
It seems I’m wearing myself too thin
I gave you all of me, and you only gave me something
I can’t do it anymore
It’s not right for how hard I’ve worked

I need to focus on myself
Keep working towards my goals
Maybe we’ll intersect again
And I’ll keep cheering you on
But don’t expect me to give you everything, not anymore

Art, Depression, Healing, Mindfulness, Poetry, Self-Care, Self-Love

How Far I’ve Come

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Sometimes I forget how good I have it
How blessed I am to be doing what I love
How blessed I am to have freedom of expression
It wasn’t always this way
I didn’t always have it so good

My fears held me back
My self-doubt told me I couldn’t do it
My anxiety convinced me not to try
Ambition? I had none of it
Drive? I was on empty
Motivation? Better to stay quietly in my lane

Stick to the shadows
Hide in the background
Don’t draw attention to yourself
For it will only amplify your lack
It will only show others how weak you are
It will only confirm the fragility of your ego

I believed the lies for so long
Convinced that I wouldn’t get better
Convinced that I wouldn’t amount to much
The life that I was brought into was as good as it would get
Whatever cards I was dealt was how things would play out
Whatever limitations I had would forever remain

I wasted so much time stuck in park
Wasted so much time admitting defeat
Worn down by my circumstance without a chance to compete
Conceded the fight before the opening bell
Accepted the result without giving them hell

It took years to undo the damage that was done
It took session after session to recondition myself
To erase the brainwashing, the sheltering, the pain
To build me up and make me whole again

It had been so long since I had felt complete
There was a hole in my heart where my psyche used to be
I had lost my sense of self
Didn’t know who I was
I had let others mold me into what they thought I should be

That wasn’t who I am
Wasn’t what I’m meant to be
Wasn’t what God had intended when He had created me
I must remind myself of how far I’ve come
Remind myself that I have purpose
One that others might not understand
Remind myself of what I stand for and who I am
Remind myself that I can’t be defined by another man