Unnamed

I was cruising around Google today, looking for answers... of course. To see if anyone else understood. That I'm not crazy. That I'm not alone. For the hundredth time I wondered if anyone else in the universe didn't want kids like me. Was afraid of being pregnant like me. And I found it. It's funny, how we always think that we're alone. When really, with the billions of people in the world... that's quite impossible. What I found, is that the fear of pregnancy and childbirth is a legitimate phobia, and it's called tokophobia. Tokophobia is defined as, "A pathological fear of pregnancy." It can occur in women who've had kids before, or not. Some symptoms (triggered by sight, words, thoughts, etc.) include recurrent nightmares, panic and anxiety attacks, sweating and shaking, thoughts of death or dying... If this sounds like you, please find comfort in knowing that you're not alone. Having a family, including children, is such an ing...

***This post is about mortality and may be triggering to some readers*** Today I heard about a road accident that happened Friday. A family of 6. One mom, one dad, and four sisters. There were 5 fatalities. Death always shakes you up. I was at work, talking with a co-worker, and my boss brings up this accident. One second you're not thinking about much... maybe what you're going to eat for lunch, or your friend, your favorite band coming back, whatever. And the next you're struck somber by the realization that, You're Fragile and Life is Short. That everything else in life appears as filler and distraction from the thought of the inevitable. I feel like I should apologize for being so morbid. But this is a place where I come to write (and invite you to read it), so I'm just going to write what I want and need to and that's that. I'm very grateful for the "distractions" in life, quite honestly. I think we'd all have constant ex...

It feels heavy. Like an anchor has attached itself to you. Like a lead weight is tied to your heart. You look out your window and the sun is shining and you can hear your little neighbors laughing and everything is beautiful, but... you don't feel any happiness. All the colors are kind of muted and everything blurs. Sleep is an escape, and you crave it so you can forget for a little while. Even when you feel like you cannot function, the world is still moving. Nothing stops for you, and time goes on while you try to fight through it & figure stuff out. You might cry a lot. This is how depression feels. Or how it may feel. Everyone struggles and experiences it differently. I have mild- moderate depression, and tend to fight with seasonal depression as well. I've never been "officially" diagnosed by a doctor or health professional. This makes me often feel like a fake, because my pain has not been validated by someone who knows what the...

I don't like people worrying about me. My family, my friends, complete and utter strangers. I do admit, it's nice to have someone be gently concerned for you every once in a while. It can make you feel like you're still seen and cared about. But most of the time, I hate to make someone worry. This is part of the reason why it's so hard for me to tell my parents about my mental illness. I feel guilty, bad, heartbroken, for making them worry more than they have to. My heart twists when I feel like I may be spending a little too much time in solitude, lying on my bed, for my mom to grow concerned and worry over me. I feel sick with guilt when I forget to text my parents and I get home much later than expected. I have to often slip away to a bathroom, or outside, when I start to feel ill as a result of anxiety when I'm out with friends. Rather than tell them what's going on, and have them worry about me. Rather than have them suggest we go, and leave me wi...

Sense and Sensibility. If you've ever read the book by Jane Austen (or have seen the play, like me), you know a bit about what it means to have either. To be full of sense is to be led by your head. To be logical and think things through, to make plans and be responsible. To live with your feet on the ground. To be full of sensibility is to be led by your heart. To feel and dream, to be spontaneous and maybe a little reckless. To live with your head in the clouds. Both are important. Neither is inherently bad, when balanced with the other. But then, we also have the Spirit to consider. As a Believer in Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit lives in me. I should be led by that first. Not my head, not my heart, but the Spirit. In my own life, I tend to feel things very deeply. I am a big fan of Disney, and therefore have been very exposed to "Follow Your Heart!" When I slowly started to come to the realization that, no, you shouldn't be led by your heart,...

It has been said before that the church is like a "hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints.” To me, this means that the church body is made up of broken, sinful people who need Jesus, not perfect people who follow religious rules. The church is meant to be a place where you can take off your mask, be real, vulnerable, and broken with those around you. Yet, I find myself walking in every Sunday with my mask firmly glued to my face. High heels. Hair brushed. Makeup on. Smile! "I'm doing just fine how are you!" "Everything is great!" Show your teeth now. Nod. Yes, everything is fine. But it's not. It's not fine. I think that a lot of others in the congregation keep their masks on too. We don't show our brokenness. Not even here. But perhaps there is a person or two here that they can be truly real with. I only have one. The mask dissolves for her only. And sometimes I have trouble even with that. We ge...

Repeat after me. My worth is not in my looks. My worth is not in my looks My worth is not in my looks. I'm staring myself down in the bathroom mirror, leaning over the sink as I repeat these words to myself. The way I look and my worth have become more intertwined than I realized. I want to disconnect the two. The number of pimples that you can count on your skin doesn't make you any less lovable. The amount of fat on your body doesn't make you any less worthy. The size of your nose, The hair on your body that society tells you does not belong, The frizziness of your hair, None of these things should define or shape your worth. And yet... It's as if you are not worth loving unless you're beautiful. But that's bs. You're lovable and worthy no matter how you look. When you have people telling you you're beautiful all the time, you start to put your worth in that. And when you aren't made up, when your "bad skin" is showing...

I love my parents. They drive me crazy sometimes, like any family member can, but I still love them. As I get older and grow and learn, I've realized that maybe my parents aren't always right. Shocking, I know. When you're a kid, you tend to be very gullible. You tend to be very trusting. You tend to believe what your parents or guardians tell you, and many times you end up sharing their opinions. Because this is how you were raised. This is what you always heard. This is what you've always known. And maybe when you voice your own opinions, you are quickly rebuffed and made to feel like you are wrong. Maybe they don't mean to, but that's how they make you feel. As I gain knowledge and wisdom and am exposed to many different ways of thinking through classmates, professors, friends, and the internet, my opinions and ideas shift and change. Some of the things I think or believe now may be a stark difference to what my parents think. But that's ...

I think I'm too stuck on the past. I think I'm too stuck on the future. There are nights that my entire heart aches, remembering what it was like to be a kid. Remembering the ease and simplicity and beauty of the days. Smiling at the memories I made with my family. Wishing that now a scraped knee was the most painful thing I would experience. Yearning for my sweet innocence and present-focused mind. I didn't think much about the future at all. My worst fear was that I wouldn't finish my homework in time to go outside and play. There are days where my heart races and my body is paralyzed at the thought of the future. Thinking of what lies ahead in the coming months, but more often, years and decades. Sometimes I am able to smile and feel at peace with the future I have dreampt about for myself. But I also know that life rarely works out the way you want. I fear all the coming troubles and challenges that I don't believe I could handle. I think I thin...

To those of you who have never been in love. To those of you who want so badly to be in love. To those of you who feel as if you will never be loved. To those of you who have never been kissed. To those of you who feel as if no one could love you. Yes, this is for you. This is for me. I'm 21 years old. 21 as of September, 2017. I have never been kissed. I have never dated anyone. I have never had a boyfriend. I have never been romantically, truly, in love. I want you to know that you are not alone in your loneliness. You are not alone in your stark and silent singleness. When the world seems to be in love, and everywhere you go you see pairs, know that you are not alone. There are many who are experiencing or have experienced what you're going through. They say that love will find you, yet here you are... Still waiting. Yes, I feel your aching heart. But I want you to know that you are whole by yourself. You do not need a single person to comple...

Who am I. Who am I? This is a question that I'm sure we have all asked ourselves at least once, if not more. As a young adult, in the beginning years of her second decade of life, I'm discovering who I am more and more. They say that your 20s is the decade of "finding yourself." Discovering things about yourself and finding out who you are and who you want to be. I've been growing into who I am my whole life. You form your view of the world and yourself all the time. Whether you realize it or not. This is what I believe, anyway. As I learn things about myself and about the world around me, I am shaped and I change. I looked in the mirror today and realized how my outfits change all the time. I used to think that you needed to fit into one or two "styles." You dress classic and clean, or pink and girly, or all in black... But now I realize you can do all of the above. I'll dress like a free-spirit with printed flowy dresses one day, and sk...

Today I gave myself the first challenge; Make eye contact with as many people as possible. If you read my last post, I was talking about how one of my words in 2018 is Courage. I want to make that happen and I was going to start giving myself challenges to grow my confidence and courage. Well, here we are. The first challenge. Small, but significant all the same. I had class today, and even though my second class was canceled, I made eye contact with about 10 people before going home. Later I went to the bank, Target, and a few other places. In total, I made eye contact with about 27 people today. I didn't count the people who checked me out at the stores, or my professor, because you kind of have to look at each other. I didn't want it to be that easy. So I made eye contact with 27 strangers. Some smiled, a few said hello, one lady even started chatting with me. I was feeling so good when I got home that I even said hello to my neighbors that I don't normally speak ...

WHY do we care what people think so much? This is a question that I think about all the time. Why do I care and what can I do about it? I suppose I'm afraid of being harshly judged. Maybe I'm afraid of being laughed at or ridiculed. Perhaps I fear being ostracized from certain social circles because I'm "that weird girl." Not caring what people think is a lot easier for me to put into practice online. You can rehearse, you can post things that disappear in 24 hours... There's this barrier between you and the rest of the world. You aren't face to face with someone. You aren't out in the world, you're behind a screen. You have some level of protection. It's "safer." I've been fighting with myself and my own self-consciousness and fear for a long time now. I have really good days where I feel free from the judgement and opinions of others. But I more often have regular or bad days where I'm held down by what I believe ...

I think about the future a lot. All the time. Too much. And not just next year, or the next decade, or the next 20 years. While I do think about that, I go as far as thinking (and worrying) about being old. Like, really old. Like, 90. I'm 21 years old. I'm not going to be 90 for nearly 70 years! And yet... My family and I went to my aunt's house today for a late Christmas. We picked up my grandparents (both in their mid-80s). Now, a word about my grandparents. I am so blessed and so grateful to have both sets of grandparents still alive in my family. Do not get me wrong here. These particular grandparents are very challenging. They are your stereotypical grumpy old people. They bicker, they mutter, they share opinions loudly and proudly. There's not a lot of love there. There's not a lot of patience. There's not a lot of joy. There is a lot of arguing. There is a lot of illness. There is a lot of bitterness. There is a lot of unhappiness and...

I start class again on Monday, and I'm getting that usual pre-semester anxiety. In honor of my second year of school and my anxiety, I want to share a poem I wrote in 2015, on July 23rd. There's a lump in my throat, A hand closing tightly. It's not mine, but I'm doing this to me. An unknown worry, a faceless fear, Squeezes my neck, brings me to tears. I choke on my own anxiety, My heart tries to tear out of me. Sweat on my brow, Breath shallow. I lie on the floor. A faceless nothing. What will become of me. This always gets the best of me. I am choking on my own fears, It's not safe here. I feel like this will be the death of me. It doesn't have the most uplifting ending, but that's life, and that's poetry. Some seasons in life are ugly and difficult and heartbreaking. That's all for now. See ya.

Hello. Welcome to... whatever this is. I've been thinking about starting a blog for a while. I have a lot of thoughts and a lot of things I want to share. I like to write. I also have way too much free time on my hands. A lot of my words already have a home on Twitter. That's my most used medium for my thoughts and other things. Yet here I am. I'm used to keeping everything to 140-280 characters, so it'll be odd and perhaps refreshing to stretch out more. I don't know what else to say. Maybe no one will ever see this anyway. I'll just chat away into the abyss. Or perhaps someone will stumble across this somehow. I do not know where this is going, but thanks for tagging along. See ya.