Tag Archives: 2020

[I Am] Untitled: Cliffs

Welcome to my UNTITLED series, where I get overly personal, melodramatic, and attempt to rage my way into self growth.

I’m forcing myself into publishing this post, because I promised myself I would. That being said, I pretty much want to panic-delete everything I’ve written as this feels incredibly self-centered and overdramatic when there are real issues and problems in the world. But anyway. Here we go.

I want to jump off a cliff and smash myself into a different shape.

I’m starting to understand all those books like where someone decides to blow up their entire life and buy a one way ticket to literally anywhere. I feel like I’m going to come out of my skin, and for fuck’s sake, my life is fine. I even like parts of my life and my self.

I’m privileged. I have a great partner and parents. I’m thoughtful. I’m compassionate. I’m not as smart as I’d like and I wish my memory didn’t suck and

Okay, we’re getting into negatives again. I’m doing the avoiding negatives thing. *clears throat *

I had a further rant about adventure and wanting to travel (which is true, mind you) but I think there’s an underlying problem that’s more poignant: I think I want to jump off a cliff because I’m too good at making Safe Decisions. I listen when the world tells me to accept reality and learn to dream smaller. Being Safe is my default; I adapt to make myself and everyone around me the most comfortable. It’s not just a habit at this point, but a compulsion. And I think it’s slowly suffocating me.

My hope is that I don’t actually have to jump off a cliff or blow up my life to figure out how to change. (I think my partner would definitely appreciate that, and I’d rather hang on to him.) In this sense, something came up in conversation the other day that I think I can use, for my maybe-or-maybe-not cliff-jumping. The concept was:

Extroverts find adventure through people. Introverts find adventure through ideas.

I don’t know if this is wholly accurate, and honestly it doesn’t matter, because this has been stuck in my head, and this is my self-journey, damn it, I’ll discard it later if I don’t like it. Plus, this is my big Fuck You to the seeming-endless paralysis inside of me. I’ve got to start somewhere, to somehow figure out this screaming restless, so I can actually do something productive.

So. We’re going to start with: Introverts find adventure through ideas.

I’ve always been a kid who wanted to do Great Big Things, and none of what I’m doing feels big or great or even working towards that. This is not to say that I don’t take pleasure in simple things. Or that somehow it’s bad if someone isn’t “reaching for the stars.” Honestly, I have a sneaking suspicion more goddamn walks in nature might ease some of my issues. But there’s just… there’s this restless mania that I have to channel into something, and it’s not going to be “being good at office work.”

Sidebar: Maybe all of this is the dying throes of my childhood self, learning that I really can’t just save the world because I want to. Maybe I’m just a tiny, insignificant cog in the wheel of capitalist civilization, the loneliest society there is. But I think that reality might kill me.

What’s the phrase? Keep writing so reality does not destroy you?

Anyway. Let’s get back to finding adventure through living by ideas.

I want to try to break this down into something digestible, something I can try to utilize (since I am trying to make changes and not just complain my life away). I tend to overthink everything to the point of paralysis, and as mentioned in my previous post, have completely forgotten how to believe or trust in myself, so I’m really going to try not to overthink this. I am giving myself permission not to know all the answers right now.

So, I’m going to list ideas (or ideals) that I think are my core being that I actually like (or if we’re being pessimistic, three ideas that I want to represent and grow in myself) which I can use as a driving force. Then I can start to set goals or steps or I don’t even know, to try to create some sort of purposefulness in myself.

This has been noodling around in my brain somewhat, so this was actually easier than I thought to come up with some things that felt true. Despite the fact that even as I write this I’m doubting everything and I’m doing this wrong and what do I even

Hooo-kay, here we go.

Idea Numero Uno:

At the end of my life I want to be leaving something that will benefit those who come after me. In a way that’s healing, joyful, constructive.

Idea Numero Dos: (I don’t know why I’m writing in Spanglish)

Western Civilization has the notion that humanity is somehow separate and disconnected from our local and global ecosystem. Our environment has been showing us otherwise. I want to take responsibility for my place in the ecosystem.

(That means… well, it means a lot of huge things, which touch on environmentalism, sociology, politics, racism and socioeconomic issues — just to name a few. Not going to get into all of this here.)

Idea Number Three:

Never stop learning. I think stagnation — mental and otherwise — comes from a lack of learning. Knowledge can give the world. It keeps you humble and curious and alive.

Sooo. Yeah. We’ll start there, with those three. Those three big, giant… I have no idea what to do with them now… concepts. And I am absolutely not being overwhelmed, or spiraling into ‘what does this even mean,’ or wondering how this could even help me turn myself into a being that I can appreciate.

Now I just need to think on how I’m going to break up these big ideas into little goals I can actually enact. And then… somehow make myself do them. I will start working through that in an upcoming post. Meanwhile, I’m going to stare at the ceiling a while to see where it gets me.

Also, my brain has been barfing up other frustrations and randomness, all of which I’ll go into, because, as I mentioned in my previous post, I am learning to acknowledge and respect all my thoughts and feelings again, and this is how I’m doing it. By vomiting up them all in public.

Haaaaa, I’m doing it anyway, because I’m not letting myself be paralyzed by things like fear and how self-centered this is and if anyone is actually listening and the right way to run an online presence and —

Yup. Time to sign off.

Till next week everyone. Stay safe, practice compassion, do something daring.


[I am] Untitled

I’m not even sure how to start this one.

Not just because it’s been… oh, I don’t know, 9 months since I blogged last. My inspiration to share my thoughts and write in this manner just… dried up. I didn’t even feel guilty about not blogging, really. I felt like I should, and I wished I was, but I just…

Didn’t have anything to say. It didn’t even bother me that much — as much as it should. Which is the second reason I’m not sure how to start this post. Somewhere in the last year I forgot to care about my own thoughts.

I’m melodramatic; I spiral into negativity at the drop of a hat; I battle intrusive thoughts. Add in the fact that I’m working to deconstruct any -ist thinking, and it’s frightening how much of my own self I cannot trust. In trying so hard not to blow around in some emotional storm, I think I’ve caused the slow death of any kind of self-belief.

Why would my thoughts matter? Especially in a world of endless noise. Even now, I’m sneering at myself.

Most of what I do is done in rote. I write fantasy characters in screwed up situations, because I always have, and there are faint glimmers of myself in there. I edit, because that’s what I’m supposed to do next, and there’s a kind of dim pleasure in seeing things come together. I go to work, because I’m supposed do, the job isn’t hard, and making money is the only way to do anything in this world.

And then.

Recently, I had two poignant conversations that helped bring to light how well I’ve been shoving myself into a smaller and smaller box. It’s not like I’ve ever been a particularly self-confident person, but in my doubt of everything, all I’ve done is make safe decisions that make me hate myself. And I’ve got to do something to change.

I’m restless. I don’t know how to fix it.

I’m sad. I don’t know why.

I’m angry. I’m pretty sure I know that reason, but I don’t know how to release it productively.

I’m tired. I don’t know where to find energy anymore.

I’m twenty-seven-goddamn-years-old and I feel like I’m twelve and a hundred all at once. I’m paralyzed, sticking to the same elements that have made up my life so far, instead of trying to pinpoint the nebulous restlessness I can’t seem to get over. The world is f*cking on fire, and I can barely step outside the door in the morning.

So I’m making a decision. A decision I will have to make over and over and over again if I’m going to change this. I’m going to start small. I’m going start caring about my thoughts again. I’m going to be melodramatic, and vent my feelings. I’m going to be selfish, and give a shit about myself. I’m going to take time, and figure out what is wrong with me, so I can stop spiraling this slow death. I’m spending too much time keeping my pieces together to actually live.

Because at the end of this damn thing called life, I want to look back and be satisfied.

I want to know I made something better, and I didn’t just waste oxygen.

I want to build or leave or heal something wonderful, something that will help bring healing or joy or happiness to those who come after me.

Melodramatic? Sure. But maybe if I accept it, I can do something with it.

For anyone reading this and wondering what the hell to expect in this blog… well, 2020 is going to be the year I rage until I figure out how to finally take a step forward — in my dreams, my health, and my sanity. It will have to be a decision I make over and over again. And maybe you can find some comfort or truth in my stumbling attempts to figure out this bullshit.