“You’re not the same as you were before.
You were much more…
You’ve lost your muchness.”
– The Mad Hatter, Alice in Wonderland
The past few months have been extremely rough, which is one reason why I’ve abandoned this space. My anxiety gives me anxiety these days…
It feels strange to say, but I truly am not the same as I was before. Who the hell is that girl looking back at me in the mirror? She is nothing but a sad, empty shell.
The me I used to know is gone.
My entire life I have struggled to figure out who I really am… not who society thinks I should be. Not who my parents or family expect me to be. But me… the real me.
Recently, I realized something about myself that I never even thought of before. I read up on it, asked questions, and wrestled with the idea for weeks before I accepted it…
Then I fought with myself for a few more weeks because admitting it to myself was one thing, but saying it out loud to my husband and close friends was a whole different ball game.
Naive little me thought that once I opened up about things, I’d finally be okay with who I am… I could not have been more wrong.
Whatever muchness I had left disappeared and I am again questioning who I am. After everything finally made sense … I’m back at square one.
Broken. Confused. Gone.
Well, typically I have lyrics or book quotes to use as an intro, but my mind is drawing a blank.
One thing that has become quite clear to me, and possibly quite obvious to my followers, is that I have fallen off the wagon here.
I started this blog with the intention of helping others see that it is okay NOT to be okay. Lately, however, I have been ignoring my own advice. I have wanted to write so many things here, but I am afraid that y’all will judge me.
Silly, isn’t it? Worrying about what complete strangers think of my problems.
Some of you may read my posts and think “wow, this chick needs serious help”… or “quit your whining”… maybe you think nothing of the sort.
Unfortunately, a lot of the people in my life still tell me these things. Some of my family members still feel that I over-exaggerate, that I’m a drama queen, or that I just need to suck it up and move on…
A few of my “friends” think this way too, so I apologize for assuming that any of you reading this have that mindset as well.
Food for thought, guys… don’t tell us to get over it. Hold our hand and help us get through it.
In my experience, when someone said “maybe” it ALWAYS meant “NO”. As a result, I’ve come to find that I use “maybe” to avoid straight up saying “no”.
In some cases, and with some people, it is easy to say “no” without anybody getting upset or causing any problems. Other times, it is so much easier to use “maybe”… at the same time, I feel a little guilty knowing that I am giving someone false hope.
Its funny, though, how words like “possibly” and “probably” are synonyms to “maybe” but we don’t associate it with “no”. At least I don’t.
How do y’all interpret receiving maybe as a response?
Shrek may feel more like an onion than a cake or parfait, but I sure don’t. I am definitely more like the parfait Donkey describes. You can see all of my layers at once, and there aren’t very many.
I am easy to dig into and rip to shreds.
Naturally, that makes me an easy target for pain and heartbreak. It makes me the expendable friend or acquaintance.
Maybe if I was as tough as a jawbreaker, I would be able to be more like the people who have walked out of my life. I will never be able to understand how others can dismiss another person so easily.
Oh, we’ve been friends for years? That’s nice, but I’m done with you. BYE!
No remorse. No pain. Not a care in the world.
Or is all of that wrapped up in a million layers?
We lose ourselves in books, but we find ourselves there, too.
Let me first start off by apologizing for being MIA for a while… I have been having a difficult time gathering my thoughts together to write a post that isn’t all over the place.
Lately, I have found comfort in reading again. When things get too tough, I escape my reality in mystery or fantasy novels. When I’m ready to face my thoughts head on, I turn to my favorite author: Ellen Hopkins.
Although she writes works of fiction, her characters are extremely relatable. I have read every book Hopkins has written so far and have never made it through one of them without feeling a strong connection to one, or more, of the characters.
Her stories make me laugh, they make me cry, they give me hope and they give me strength. They help me remember that I’m not alone in my struggles. They pull me out of the darkest corners of my mind. They inspire me to take chances. They scare me out of making (certain) bad decisions…
Hopkins leaves no emotional stone left unturned. She dives head first into the deepest, darkest problems that many of us face and isn’t afraid to talk about them, which makes her books SO hard to put down. She makes me face those demons and I love her for it.
So if you’re ever looking to try out a new author, mosey on over to the teen fiction section and pick up one of her books. A fair warning, her writing style takes some getting used to (it’s written in poetic verse) but it is definitely worth it.
Not to sound rude or anything… but what is wrong with kids these days?! Most of the children who come into my workplace are terrible little monsters. Don’t get me wrong, we all had our phases where we were awful, but some of these kids are off the hook.
Typically, I am very patient with very small children, but it really ticks me off when older kids act ridiculous. If you are old enough to know better, then be respectful!
Honestly, when did it become acceptable to run in a library? Since when is it okay to push another kid around, throw things across the room, or to talk/laugh so loudly that staff can hear you before you even walk thru the front door?
Where did this sense of entitlement come from? When I have to scold an 8 year old for using foul language, it makes me worry for future generations. Fingers get pointed in all directions when it comes to topics of this nature because we just want to pin the blame on someone.
Instead of assigning blame, we should take a step back and figure out how we can fix the problem. Sure, if your kid says “oh, I learned these cuss words from my friend Sam” or “I behave this way because Mary gets away with it” your first reaction would probably be to keep your kid away from Sam and Mary.
Will that really fix the problem though? I sure know that when I was told to stop speaking to someone or not to hang out with a certain friend, I only wanted to do it more. I found ways around my restrictions, which is just another form of bad behavior.
It seriously just feels like a continuous circle of nonsense.
Until next time!