One Year, 9 months ago

21 months. That’s how long it’s been since I last posted anything on this blog. My whole world has changed. The world is in a goddamn pandemic. I cannot believe how quickly and slowly time has gone by, and how much fucked up shit has gone on. There is so much that is STILL going on. And that’s not even regarding my own life in a personal way.

 

I am not the same person I was by any means. I’d like to think my core self is still there, but my deepest self is severely wounded, distorted, and broken. Everything in my life imploded, and yet I’m still alive. I risk my life every day just to go to work, and it’s been this way for nearly two years, and I’m still alive. I have been confronted by my fears, even my biggest fear, and I’m still alive. My core self needed to be uprooted and taken out, let out. There was no more data I could collect. Crises confronted me. Things I couldn’t ignore or dismiss anymore pressured me to speak up, to speak out, to say stop, to say I’ve had enough. If you have been my audience, you know I was on the verge of standing up to my family, standing up for myself, and drawing hard boundaries between myself and them in general. But now its been 21 months, and I haven’t seen most of them since February 2020. I haven’t spoken to most of them since then, too. Like I said, I imploded. I went inward, withdrew as much as I could allow myself. Last year, I powered through the first year of the pandemic. Working, distancing, learning, trying to function, trying to just survive. 

There have been so many losses. Deaths to Covid. Deaths to violence. Fascism more and more on the rise. Car crashes. Break ups. Divorces. Unspoken love. Unspoken anger. Blocked calls. Blocked emails. Deleted messages. Torn families. Broken hearts. So much loss. There have been a lot of lies revealed. The curtain has been torn, and we’ve seen how terribly flawed humans are, and how disgustingly selfish they are as well. 

Every layer of trauma I have has demanded to be seen, to be addressed, to finally be accepted and felt. I drove home last night, getting hit with the realization that I do not feel safe to be in my family anymore. That is real life. I cannot make light of that reality. My parents are not good people, and they are not safe for me to be near, allow into my life, or have any contact with me. My family doesn’t even know where I live. That is how unsafe I know they are. Maybe one day, when I am more healed and grown, I can address them face to face. But I also cringe over the thought of seeing their faces, interacting, talking, updating, or being ignored and dismissed. I cringe over the thought of hearing their voices and hearing their lies. I truly want nothing to do with 99% of them. I’m skeptical of closeness with the two I still feel okay to at least connect with on social media. I’m still nervous because they’re related to me. Anyone related to me can’t be trusted. They’re so fucked up, mentally ill or otherwise. I don’t need their love, validation, interaction, or fake connection. I don’t want it either. So, I genuinely cant see a future with them in it. That hurts. That breaks my heart. 

“Life can be so tragic, but we have to move on.” I’m sorry, future Han. I’m so sorry this is reality. I fought so hard to make it otherwise, but I think deep down you always knew. You always knew what would happen “when I’m done trying.” You always knew your love would have to have limits. You built up a wall between you and them. “There’s no tearing down that brick wall.” I’m so sorry your biggest fear has happened; you were separated from your family. But you were always separated from them. That’s why you did everything you could. But I promised myself that I’d walk away from things when it’s time. And it really hurts when it seems like all I get to do is walk away. I have generally let things play out as they will, but I am aware of the endings when I see them. I can feel them coming before they happen. “I count the cost before the future’s happening.” I was not wrong, but I didn’t want to be right. I calculate the risks, and see if its worth the cost. My wellbeing stopped being worth sacrificing because it was literally destroying my body. I probably have done enough damage to my body by ignoring its needs, its emotions, its humanness. I just hope it isn’t irreparable. 

It’s hard to see my influence on others when I guess I truly don’t focus on myself. I didn’t. I focused on the hunt for truth, information, intelligence, education, friendships, others growth, and others happiness. Damn have I had a wake up call. It’s like a Saturn return but without me actually turning 30 yet. I always felt 27 was a special number, a special age. It was significant, that’s for sure. 28 feels more significant. I’ve had time to actually emotionally feel through all the things I realized/learned last year. I spent all of last year listening to psych book after psych book, learning about my trauma and my family, and SO MUCH MORE. It was insane the amount of information I consumed. I just needed to understand. I was brainwashed, I was neglected and abused, and I was slandered. My mother had an extremely inappropriate dependency on me, and was an emotional leech and manipulator. My whole family honestly had too much dependency on me being the family dog. They just wanted me to sit still, be perfectly adorable and accommodating, the cute little tagalong, but to also unconditionally support them and their causes. I don’t even have a relationship with 2 out of 3 siblings. This is reality. I am so sorry, Han. My family took advantage of my dualistic nature, and I was done throwing myself at their mercy. They are cruel, and I don’t believe we will reconcile one day. Something drastic would have to change, and also be made very apparent. Why try to get the approval of people so cruel and so selfish? Why try to be loved and accepted by people whose demonstration of love to others is something so incredibly toxic, you had to adjust who you are so they could handle it? 

When you hit the bottom, the lowest emotional low that your heart can go, death doesn’t sound so bad. I’m not trying to tempt fate, but I don’t think anyone’s death would change reality. I’m still paranoid they’ll show up at my place of work. Tragedy has happened, and I haven’t felt tempted to reach out for connection or reconciliation. I know what their religious extremist brains would think. “Prodigal daughter returns.” Puke. I’m not the one running away from something. I STOPPED TRYING. I stopped pretending. I didn’t want them involved in my life anymore, I just hadn’t fully accepted how ugly and hateful they are. I still saw the good. But those were glimpses. Faded memories at that point, in 2020. Ironic how 2020 “cleared” my vision, my perception. Well, it started the ground work for me being able to do self-therapy now. I am not their prodigal child kink. I do not need them, nor am I wasting any inheritance. Honestly, I plan on building a legacy of my own, and they can suck it. I will never need them again, and honestly I never did. I spent most of my youth trying to get away from them, to fly under the radar, just so I could finally get out. I hope I never have to curl into myself again like I have for the last two years, and truly longer than that. 

I tend to be really bad at wrapping these things up. I usually vent til I’m all vented out. There is so much I haven’t said though. It’s been two years. I’ve written a lot, and in other spaces, but this one is different. I’ve had it for ten years. Wow. I’ve come here for ten years. okay, technically 8, but I’ve been rereading a lot lately. Sharing with some trusted friends. I have come to embrace being alone with myself. I really enjoy my own company, and I try to communicate with inner child me, the one that’s been stuck for so long. I grew up fast, but then stopped growing. But not anymore. I’ve fought tooth and nail to get on top of my life, to become the curator of my story, and to speak for myself. I won’t do what I don’t feel comfortable doing. I wont be who I don’t feel comfortable being. “I am me, only me.” That’s always been the case. My core self will be remade with the healed adult parts of myself now. 

Oh, my heart

Oh, mama, mama

Why can’t you call me back?

I’ve tried to make or break 

But I’m slipping thru the cracks 

Where did your heart go

When did I fade to black 

Oh, father, father

Why can’t you follow through?

You were supposed to be different,

But you were just as detached, too

Where does your pride hide

When did it block me from view

Oh, sister, sister

Why can’t you learn to listen?

You’ve choked on envy

While I broke myself with patience

Where is your noose to hang me

When did I only become competition 

Oh, my heart, my heart

Why can’t you just let it go?

Why are they larger than life

Taking up a big slice

Where can I repair myself

When did I become so insignificant

Oh, mama, mama

Why can’t you love me back?

Why can’t you love me

Why can’t you love

Why can’t you

Why can’t 

Why

Depression

There’s a dark cloud hanging over me

And it won’t rise and leave.

The sun doesn’t know how to push through

And find a way to light my eyes.

I’m broken within

The cracks won’t go away

I thought that shadows 

Only followed sunshine

But it’s midnight black

And I’ve lost sense of time.

There is a film that’s layered on my skin

And it won’t scrub off.

The rain doesn’t know how to wash clean

My mascara stained windows.

She’s angry he said nothing

She’s angry I wasn’t direct

She’s screaming because he’s gone

She’s cutting into her scars again.

I’m breaking down again

I can’t get my legs to move

No use in getting out of bed.

The cracks in my heart

Won’t go away

I thought that shadows

Only followed sunshine

But it’s midnight black

And I’ve lost all sense of time.

July 29, 2017

Running Water

When will I outgrow this blog? Maybe never. I called off work today because I woke up from bad dreams that gave me so much anxiety. The last one was telling me to call off work, so I did. I'm at a coffee shop I've never been to which is actually just less than two miles from one of my friends' houses. But I need solitude. I spent the weekend around some friends, and then just with my dog. I guess today I still needed more. Even though she's just a dog, when I spend day with her, it still feels like my energy is drained as if I were spending time with a friend. Which honestly is the case. I feel exhausted.

I partially miss the period of my life where I did school in the morning and then spent the afternoon reading, writing, and drinking coffee at a local shop that was farrrr off campus. I think I often still feel so isolated, so blocked off in my thoughts and my feelings. There is always this low hum of heaviness, or loneliness, in my head or on my body. My emotional world is so powerful that it hits my physical world like an opponent punches their boxing mate. I just happen to always do it to myself. At the same time, I do have a sense of superiority, but simply because I am able to notice everything. I've come to notice all things about myself, and it has become so easy to read others. I recognize the humanity in them, but that doesn't mean I have to like them or let those reasons be excuses for their shitty behavior or reactions to me. I hold onto feelings with clenched hands, and I put them through a lot of tests to see what will remain in the end. I only want to keep the purest form of that feeling and throw out all the excess "fat."

There is always more to experience, more to be had. And there is a longing for more that is growing in my chest and will not be set aside. I don't know what it will encompass or where it will take me, but I know I need to start mending my wings, my source of mobility, and get to my feet. I want to move. Still. That desire won't go away. And I'm afraid I've become too dependent on the validation from my close friends here. I want that to change. But there is always a weird part of me that's deeply detached simultaneously. I'm restless, and continually feel like my energy is overly exerted, and I reveal too much. Even if I don't. I've never seen so much of my weakness until I've seen others' weaknesses or lack of maturity and evolve-ment. I always want to be progressing, learning, growing, and becoming stronger. I'm already bored at my new job. Anyone could do it half ass and it wouldn't make a difference. They would still get paid the same as I do, when I'm anxiously stressing over the details. I wish I made tons of money so that money didn't matter, but I mostly wish money didn't matter.

I know there is a yin and yang to everything. That's the mistake so many others in my life make. They overlook that there is an opposite to everything. They demand all these one sided ways of living, and then there is no balance. I painfully recognize the imbalance and chaos of my world and the people in it. I know the ugly truth about every single person I've invested in, and my mind tells me to be compassionate and empathetic, but my heart tells me that there is imbalance, and unfairness. I don't get back the amount I give at the rate I give, to the extent I give. It may be better than it used to be, with past friends and past me. But there is still this gaping distance between what I give and what I take. It seems that I am constantly pouring into what I believe something could be, and I convince my brain it is that thing before it ever is. So, then I'm devastated when I realize the potential never manifested. That was the ugly truth that hit my head recently about my siblings and my parents. Everything I ever thought we were had never come to be, and it was all my dreams and hopes that I had put so much stock into... but not reality. There's how you feel about something, how you think about it, and then reality. Reality is always jarring, whether it's good or bad, more like positive or negative.

I can sense my time in this area, in this space, is expiring and going to end soon. I don't know where it will then lead me, and where I will go. I'm so bored of this space, the way things are going, and how no one wants to change and grow in physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual ways with me. They don't want to change how they are, and I'm just constantly making way for them to be stagnant while I feel like I'm aching to heal and be somewhere, to fully become someone. People demand my empathy and give nothing to fill my energy back up. Until I'm telling someone how awful I'm doing, they don't have enough initiative to even show TLC to me. I literally have to be screaming for anyone to notice, but I see their slightest discomfort, even when they are lying to my face and saying they're fine. Can't anyone see through to me? Can't anyone help pull me into a new space that isn't so heavy? Why must I do all the emotional labor at all times? I'm exhausted.

I want to run away.

Avoidance

Any day now, I will get a new laptop and it won't be as slow as the one I've got now. Just kidding. That is so low on the priority list right now, but it would be a nice thing to do. I don't remember the last time I used it, but I'd probably use it more if I refurbished it. Anyway.

I made myself drive to the coffeehouse I've met Megan at a few times now, and I am making myself sit still and type and drink a latte. It's been a while since I've done this, and it was my heart and soul when I was in school. I gave myself time to write a lot more back then, but I also needed it to keep my creative inspo flowing. Today is heavy. It seems like it's heavy for the barista that took my order, too. "Living the dream" was his response when I asked how he was. We all know that is code for "I really can't say how I am." I hate phrases like that. Just be obscurely honest. It's rough day, but I'll be okay. My instinct is to seem like I am really well, not necessarily happy, but strong. My latte cost $7 with a tip, so you can perk up for a second, buddy.

I'm avoiding why I'm here. Why am I at a coffee shop, making myself pause and drink a latte, and use this stupidly slow computer? I need to talk. I'm going to cry. I don't know if I'm depressed. There are some things about how I am now that I don't know if I am apathetic or if I'm depressed. Do things that made me happy not make me happy anymore because I don't care about them or has my imbalanced brain told me otherwise? I guess I should simply try to live in the moment and not overthink about it. If something doesn't matter right now, then I should just keep moving and not make an ordeal out of it.

Part of me doesn't want to put in the energy to talk about my brother or my sister. I've spent years wringing myself dry trying to be empathetic and placing effort, energy, love, and investment in them. But I can't do it anymore, and it's for various reasons. I can't compare them because they aren't the same, but they still manage to treat people like shit whom they supposedly value most. He is a lazy, coward who lives in self-pity and regret. She is a bully who lives in denial and thinks gifts and attention will fill the emptiness and guilt living in her body. I don't care if their feelings are based on valid experiences. They use how they feel and what they think to inflict pain on others, and they use guilt to try to control. You will not guilt me. You will not use me.

I held anger and hurt so deeply in my body, and I still do this. I try to bury it and beat my body into submission. I used to self harm, I used to punch my own chest, I used to over workout, and I still push myself into submission. But I am trying to surround it with healthy goals and healthy thoughts. The difference now is I go to the gym to build myself up, sort through heavy feelings, and make true progress. I am obsessive about it, but it's been in my life for 6 years now.

Maybe this won't turn into a rant, but I know it's good for me to write when I am heavy. I don't write songs anymore, but I still write poetry. It's much more direct and raw than ever before. Maybe that's the message I am supposed to be getting to, being more direct and raw. I don't mean that I will verbally attack them, but part of me doesn't know. I want to have the courage to address the issues head on, and I know that when I am forced to, I don't back down. People underestimate me. My family definitely does, but they will learn, and I know they are learning already. I was viewed like I was little, tiny, baby, fragile, undetermined, broken, selfish, fake, weak, quiet, passive, changeable, easily swayed... Nope. That isn't me. It's strange how the one person that was viewed like this, so tiny and impressionable, is the one that everyone wants approval from. That's why they try to make me smaller and cuter and sweeter than I really am. They want me to like them and always be looking up to them.

I don't fight for people. I love for them. I've had to take up so much space trying to fill in the cracks where people didn't love me enough. And I'm done. I'm done doing that. That's when my best friendships were realized. People who made me want to fight to hold on, who made me want to fight things out, talk things out. I've stopped trying to keep the peace with people I love most and been more direct and raw. It's scary, and I still get so much anxiety, but I confront them. (Thank God not all my friends and I have had to fight, but I do at least talk that shit out now). But I will never be in a place like that with my brother and sister. Unless, some divine miracle were to happen, and healing and real growth were to blossom on their hearts. 

Hurt

When did I get misrepresented as this impressionable piece of clay? I know that we start that way when we are children, but we watch and listen, we grow and become. There seems to be this belief among some that I don't form my own opinions, and that I am easily persuaded toward this way or that. No, I am not as stubborn as the majority of my family, and I am not spiteful or aggressive like most of them either. I am not less because of that. It isn't necessary to me to fight for fighting's sake. It isn't important for me to have all my thoughts heard, understood, and accepted. I realized a long time ago that I am the only one who will every fully have my own back, but it isn't just me. We are all that way, and yet people refuse to accept that. It's useless to try to make someone be okay with something they've decided they aren't, and it's nonsense to try to push someone into doing something they don't want to do. Yet my family talks to me like I have to be pliable and changeable toward their wills and their whims. They talk to me like their feelings and beliefs are facts, and they justify their anger, meanness, and pettiness. It is not my problem that they can't separate themselves from their identity in their beliefs. It is not my job to cater to each one of them. I won't pick up the responsibilities of 5 other people. This isn't a college group project; this is supposed to be a family.

I was not truly important to you until you thought we could be on the same team. All you have ever wanted from me was a devoted follower of whatever bullshit you ascribed meaning. Excuse me if I don't blindly attack someone once I hear all sides to a story. Sorry I don't say sorry and beg for forgiveness when I know I am not wrong and it is a matter of difference of opinion. I have a lot more agency here than most of you have been willing to give me. I have been making my own choices for a very long time, guilt stricken and anxiety riddled, and I've made it here. I never asked for your opinion and I haven't offered mine. Why can't differences just be accepted and we can exclude ourselves from each other's social media or personal beliefs to keep the peace? Unity is more important than black and white thinking. Honestly, if it were up to the jaded part of me, I'd thrown in the towel, and move to a place none of you could ever find me again.

This is me making a promise to myself to always stand up for me. I will not let them knock me around again. I will not let them silence me. Their manipulations and ploys to guilt me into being who they want or doing what they want will not have a hold on me. I will not play into their hand. I will represent my name, and my name alone. I will stand up against mistreatment and pettiness, but I will not sign my name onto anyone's roster. I didn't choose for them to have the problems with each other that they have. I didn't make those choices to talk to them the way they talk to one another. I have hurt them before, yes, but it hasn't been from maliciousness or purposefully trying to make them angry. I am going to be my own person and I will hold myself accountable (which is more than what anyone of you can say because you just sit any justify yourself or you say god keeps you accountable). I am not afraid to be wrong, but mostly because I don't proclaim every fucking thought I have or belief I have as right for the masses. I don't need the approval of temperamental people or a maybe real/maybe not real temperamental god. I'm exhausted at being pushed to the middle. I am not glue. I am not the binding of this book. I didn't ask for any of this, but here we fucking are, and here I am being forced to play a role I never wanted.

No more. I choose me and my mental health. I will choose to play the role I want, and I will shut you down if you try to manipulate me or impose your guilt on me. I am not a brainwashed toddler anymore. I am not an overwhelmed, emotional 12 year old anymore. I am not a self-harming 19 year old anymore. I am not a depressed, questioning 23 year old anymore. I have taken my time getting here, and you will not shake me down. I will not crumble under the weight of your feelings, opinions, and desires. I have been crushed and reformed into a diamond, and now I am beyond your grasp and cannot be broken again by you. I am tired of being afraid to speak up, and I will say what I think when I decide. I will let you down, and you will have to grow the fuck up.

Does This Count As Therapy?

It's started to stay warm consistently now, and with the warmth comes reflection and energy. Let's be honest, I am generally always reflecting all year 'round. I haven't paused to write here for over a month now, and I think I should try to work out some stuff going on in my mind. I have been writing poetry more often, and I am happy about that. There are often things that pop into my mind that I have to just put out, formulate, and create into poetry. (Ary is trying to get me to play fetch with her now, which is unfortunate timing.)

I first want to address how awful my body image and self talk has become. And it isn't constant. It comes in waves, ripples, and sometimes tsunamis. I don't know what it is exactly that makes some of these periods so bad and then go away. I'm paranoid. I don't want to become like some of the people in my family that have bad relationships with food, nor do I want to repeat in my head "don't be like x person" because I could end up pushing myself into a bad place still, by becoming the opposite and not eating enough. I've only ever wanted to find balance, and I know that sometimes things will be wobbly and not exact. But I bully myself when that happens... when the scales tip a little. I'm terrified of getting a big gut, especially since I am already prone to intestinal issues and anxiety builds up so much tension in the gut. I want to enjoy life and enjoy foods I like, but I also want to take care of myself and not punish my body. And then I don't, but I punish my MIND.

When I was younger, my mom would compare me to my siblings whenever I said or did something she didn't like. She'd say "You're being like Jeffrey" or "if you do anything like x sibling, i'll kick you out" and that shit has stuck with me to this day. I've been reading a book my friend B gave me, and it's really revealed bullshit cycles that played in my growing up years. I resent that I was ever compared to my siblings. Since I was a child, I wanted to be my own person and not have anyone crowd into that space, but I wasn't allowed to have that space. I didn't have the space to be open and out about the stuff I dealt with, the things I felt, the experiences I had, the thoughts I had, because I couldn't be openly "rebellious" like all my siblings had been. I could only show I wasn't okay when the hurt made sense to my parents, but when I ached and self harmed, and when I felt heavy and filled with darkness, I had to conceal it. There was no space for that. I hated being told who I was and how to be, but I couldn't show any other colors in our family. That's what I thought. I thought I wouldn't be loved if I showed that I wasn't black or white. I've always been gray, and that may never be okay with my parents. I know Holly resented me for be gray, though she wouldn't really understand what that means without  me explaining it a bit. I wasn't direct, I wasn't HER, I held back, I bit my tongue, I kept so much to myself, and I controlled my image. I was controlled yet emotional, I was withdrawn but personable. I remember being 14 and engaging with new kids to our church because I thought "I'd want me to talk to her if I was her."

I'll only do what I have to do to survive. I will always take care of myself. I've wanted to assert my individualistic personality and my independence since I was 14, but my mom wouldn't let me. I wanted to start taking responsibility for myself, and I wasn't allowed. I wanted a job. Nope. I wanted to get a job so I could pay for my own cellphone. Nope. And then I was given one but with all these strings attached. My texts being monitored, my phone calls being monitored, the numbers I contacted were managed. That was why I wasn't allowed to get a job and pay for my own phone. I wanted to definitely get my own phone plan when I was 19, and I wasn't allowed. And I get it now. My mom wanted to be able to keep tabs on me always. She could go through all my phone records. And she always assumed the worst. She literally accused me of staying out all night with a friend of mine who was away in SC for college, when I told her I was in Greenfield at my friend Rachel's. But she didn't like that story. It didn't fit her poor victim cycle. What horrible children she has. They are such liars. And they wonder why we hid so much from them. They set us up to be disobedient liars. I could never come to them with the truth about anything. I'd vent to my mom about how a bf treated me, and somehow it would be twisted and be my fault. Always. I'm making myself mad right now.

Over dinner with my partner, my mom tried to play this game of "wow i was such a sweet, loving mom because i couldn't let my poor baby be without a pet." Are you fucking kidding me? So you couldn't handle me being sad that my pets were being devastatingly murdered on our front porch by cars. That makes sense? But I never asked for a replacement to Ada. So you provided a way for me to have a pet. Cool. You made me think my sister was going to molest me and left me scared to be close to her for years. So, that's nice.

I need to stop for now. I'm getting myself worked up.

I Could Title This "Fuck You" but That Isn't Classy

I want this entry to have a purpose, and not just a mindless rant. But when it comes to my thoughts, I guess it is never mindless. Something is wrong with me. I'm mourning the loss of things that I haven't put a face to or a title to or a name to. There is the obvious list of people or things, but there is more than that. I don't think I've avoided addressing this; I think I've had so much on my mind that I just haven't gotten to it yet. I'm sitting still now, and ready to confront a few things.

I started reading Rupi Kaur's second poetry book, and something really jumped out to me: how much hurt Craig caused me, and how damaging it was to me. Maybe I'm repeating something I've felt or said before, but I recognize that I had these huge hopes for him and I. I truly thought one day, eventually, we'd be together because I understood him. But when I make myself think back to that last time I saw him, all the little details, and the way he treated me... I know there is pain and un-bandaged wounds. I have reread poems and little things I wrote about our relationship, from YEARS ago, and I don't understand why I ever thought for one moment that he had changed, and that our dynamic could ever be "normal." How did I ever believe him after the years of manipulation and mistreatment that I RECOGNIZED? I must've really had my blinders up. That's why what he did sneaked past me. In his email, he claims things never happened that did, but for years he would tell me to remind him of all the things that happened because his memory was awful. So, how is it that his memory of what he did (or didn't do as he says) could be reliable since it never was before? THAT is how I know I AM NOT CRAZY, and that he is a liar.

Why do we hold on to unrequited love? Why do we seek the approval of those who reject us? Is it because we like the challenge? Do we really think we should have to fight for someone to love us back? Should we have to burn ourselves in order for someone else to see that we exist? Why did I give so much of myself, and didn't demand to be refilled, refueled? I had the right to answers and had the right to demand them. I gave up my rights. I allowed you into my life. Over and over. There was always this underlying plot that we'd come together in the end. That should've never been in place to begin with, but also you destroyed any chance of reconciliation. You never respected me, as you claim in your email. You never treated me with respect. People aren't objects or play things or devices used to fulfill your desires. But yet you still live like those things are true. And I let you do it. When I stopped loving you, I didn't see you as a threat to my well-being anymore. I was mistaken.

I hope you are suffering now.
I hope my words repeat in your head,
and I hope you've driven out everyone from your life.
You deserve to be miserable and alone.
You deserve to have your mind torture you until it explodes.
You ripped into my wounds over and over.
You forced your way behind my walls,
and demanded access to all secrets, to all wounds, to all thoughts.
You asked questions no one had the right to know the answer.
You invaded.
You are immoral and disgusting.
Your soul has rotted.
Your mind is filled with decay.
You destroy instead of build.
Your breath is toxic.
I hope life continues to break you.
I hope your knees give out beneath you,
and I hope everything you've built will crumble.

It's Sporadic

Two weeks ago, I came here to talk about things that were happening. Capricorn season is not my favorite. It caused me great anxiety in different years of my life, but coming into this year didn't make me panic, despite the drama that was going on with my parents. It's not like it's actually over; we're just not going to talk about it for a while. I'm just happy that I'll be rid of the car and one less thing they can hold on me.

Since the first day I remember life, I wanted to put my mom at ease but I also wanted to be my own person. I have early memories of making intellectual choices in how I communicated or how I wanted to be perceived. I always thought about wanting to be just me. Simply me. It isn't that I made myself into something I wasn't. I just didn't share what I wanted to keep for myself. I realized that the only person who would listen to me was my mom/parents, but only if I was perceived as doing the "right thing." I know I always had my own kind of moral code. My gut always knew. I would always somehow know something wasn't right. It'd take me a while to figure out why my stomach would hurt, but now I know it's when I wouldn't listen to my intuition, and also because I have bad anxiety.

It's in the business of an empath and Cancer sun to reflect on the past, and learn from it, and sometimes be all nostalgic. It's mostly to learn. I know I have obsessive thought patterns. I replay so much in my head. I want to be a better person from all of the bullshit and good shit I've experienced. And I also want to be honest with myself, not taint what really happened because of NOW circumstances. Unless time is linear. Whatever that means. I wouldn't be surprised if this reality is actually a simulation. When I die, I wake up.

I just had this thought. We watched Return of the King yesterday. Towards the end of the movie, Frodo & the other hobbits are sitting back at their home pub, drinking beer. And you see this look on Frodo's face. It's as if it says "After all of what I went through, I'm at the same bar I was before all of this." And he couldn't get over that feeling he didn't belong anymore. That his life before that journey was gone for good, even though he could go through the motions of it. He had experienced such darkness, pain, and evil, but came out. And now he's sitting with his dearest friends, but he isn't one of them anymore. I don't know if it truly correlates, but that's how I feel. When I go "home." I've been through way too much to just come back here and act like I'm that person at the beginning. The old Hannah can't come to the phone... "oh, cuz she's dead." I was never meant to belong, just like Frodo wasn't meant to be a regular ole hobbit.

I found a poem just now at the back of my journal that I started in 2007. Added a couple entries in 2008 & 2009. But the poem is from 2013. I think it's about Alex, and when I had to let him go. 

I've got nothing else to say right now.

Raise My Coffee Cup to the New Year I Suppose

Well, fuck. It's been several months, hasn't it?  My computer is so slow due to needing so many updates, and the last time I used it was to post the last blog. Back in July. I don't write as much as I used to because I really fill my free time/alone time with weight training. All my poetic thoughts are still inside of me, but I just gave myself a break this year, I suppose, from really dwelling on things. I think that comes from J's influence and energy, since he doesn't focus on the past like at all. I do want to always be moving forward, but I know that reflecting is part of my identity, and I should do it occasionally still to keep myself in check. I'm the only one that comes back here and reads this, but I haven't done that really this year. That's okay. I'm going through difference phases of life all the time, every year, and I don't need to relive often. I'm the weirdo that just stood up at the coffee shop and stretched and did "steps" so I can get my 9 hours of activity in on my fitbit. That's who I've become now. hahaha. It's important to me. OK.

I'm avoiding what I came here to talk about. I shouldn't avoid my thoughts. I never thought I'd feel this, where I am, and I guess I don't want to admit it "out loud," but the only person I'm hiding this from really is myself. I used to be so afraid that my parents wouldn't love me anymore because of "losing" my faith. But I realized that they never loved me for who I am. I've spent all this time learning and understanding them from afar, trying to find ways to understand and empathize with who they are even though it's so different from me half the time. Yet somehow everything is about them. I can only pinpoint all this really on my mom because my dad is so passive and doesn't speak up to how strongly he feels most of the time, but I know it isn't far off from her. She's just a bit more brash and rude, and he's a bit more passive. And I think I've tried to embrace more how I'm feeling when I'm feeling it, identifying where it's coming from. But with certain things, I just don't want to focus on it, I don't want to go there, and I don't want to process it because I know how much it hurts. I don't suppress it, I just kinda want to leave it on the surface, but I will keep myself in the dark ocean where it's safe and mysterious. That isn't a better method.

I've also been avoiding reading C's emails. Some people are tempted to obsess over people that have hurt them, or that they've hurt, or people who we've grown apart from ... But I just don't. I haven't been even the slightest curious as to what he had to say. I just assumed it's something I've read before. He lives life in a circle, repeating the same mistakes and the same lies over and over. How could he produce something I've never seen? He never has. Besides, I told him I hated him without reading his message, so it wouldn't change that fact. He doesn't know. And that's okay.

How many times have I said here that if someone found this besides the audience that looks over it from time to time already...how screwed would I be? Just imagine, my parents finding this. That would be so so so interesting. But they'd see how I was so terrified, and how I was so sick of all the unnecessary guilt and shame. Not that my words would really reach them. They'd still write it off, like they do now. My existence and experiences aren't valid to them. I can't find my own purpose, my own happiness, my own moral code, and it all has to be because it's their fault. God is still amazing and they were bad messengers. Why does everyone assume it was just Christians that ruined Christianity for me? Sure, some of the people that really broke me down were Christians. I won't put that in parentheses because they WERE Christians. They REALLY were. But this is the problem, that belief system brought me pain and grief and disappointment to the point where I wanted to kill myself. I begged for death. It gave me fake highs and REAL REAL lows. When my emotions went away, so did my beliefs. That's how I knew it wasn't real. There was no God in the silence of my mind. In the stillness, there was me. I got myself through that, I took myself to therapy every other week, and I got myself out of bed without anyone pulling my hand. I pushed myself to search for the truth, and found so many holes. I did the work. I wasn't looking for an out. It would've made my personal life SO MUCH FUCKING EASIER to have been able to still believe. They really think it's as simple as just wanting to do what I want, and to fuck outside of marriage. How fucking ridiculous is that?! It's as if they never knew me. Wait, wait... they didn't. I was always intended to be a carbon copy of them blended together. But I'm not. Do they even know how HARD IT WAS to realize that something I based my whole life on was now senseless and meaningless? I had to rebuild myself. It was far from easy to "walk away."

After what my mom did and said to me, I am never going to be so passive and "kind," She tried to guilt me, but that doesn't work anymore. You have no fucking hold on me and my morals. You taught me how to say mean things to myself and feel sorry for myself. But I taught myself how to STRENGTHEN THE FUCK UP and shut those thoughts down. To stop being so "humbly" pitiful. If you just accepted me for who I am, you wouldn't be so grrrriiieeved. If you just thought to yourself for one second, "Wow, Hannah is a human being. She's been living on her own for over a year now and hasn't asked for money or to come home once. WOW. She's doing a lot better than I expected since I know she always had a hard time saving money. That's good for her. Wow, she's working 6 days a week. That must be rough. I hope she's eating enough and eating well. I am so happy she has John in her life. He seems to really balance her out." But no. You think about the negative all the time. You repeat to yourself that "Hannah is selling herself short. Hannah is immoral. Hannah threw away my beliefs. Hannah is living in sin. Hannah probably spends all her money and is irresponsible. Hannah is gonna get pregnant and have a bastard child."

I don't care what you think anymore. I learned that I can't care about what you think anymore. "I'll never be who you want me to be. I can't be who you want me to be." Megan told me to space myself from them for a while, and I agree. Hell, my bosses told me they didn't speak to their parents for 5-8 years because they wanted to get the point across to them to just FUCKING STOP. That you either accept me for who I am, or you get nothing. I don't know if I am ready for that kind of move because it seems a bit petty. But I did donate the book they gave J and I to where I work. hahaha. And I got books I'd actually read in return.

~ Wow it got cold in the coffee shop randomly...brrrrr~ I always get hungry at the coffee shops I spend a significant amount of time at, so I CAME PREPARED TODAY! I brought raspberries, banana chips, and sea salt dried chickpeas. One of my goals for the new year is to lower my body fat percentage, so I need to snack better. For some reason, my self control has been a bit out of sorts when it comes to food this last year. So I really need to refocus and push myself to be disciplined. And it's not like I'm asking for a lot of restriction, HANNAH. Just like, don't eat a bunch of sweets or two bowls of cereal when YOU JUST ATE a chicken and pasta dinner. OH MY LAWD IT'S COLD IN HERE! One girl here took her coat off and is wearing A TANK TOP. HOW?! This entry has become very random. I'm okay with that. These are how my thoughts work. So, I'm just being very transparent.

Second cup of coffee time. They aren't big mugs. But it's so good to drink GOOD coffee black. I don't remember exactly the last time I sat in here. Maybe months. It feels good to be here. It's no Colectivo, but it's good enough. I remember when I was in school, I'd take a Saturday or Sunday and drive far off to a coffee shop away from campus, and spend hours there. I'd work on homework, write poetry, and write in this blog. That version of me seems so far away. So long ago. My sister has had two kids since then. I'm going to be seeing at least two of my friends from school in January that I haven't seen since I graduated. I'm relieved for that. I have grown and changed so much since then, but I know my core self is still the same. I will still connect with these wonderful women in the same way we bonded back then. Over random activities and adventures, and drinking wine, and doing yoga and working out, or listening to music, talking about astrology and beliefs, or playing music, talking about boys in our lives, and girls that caused drama. They validated my existence when I was struggling with who I was. They encouraged me. I hope when I see them that I can be an encouragement, a delight, and a refreshment. That sounds weird, but I don't know another way to express what I mean. I just want to be a good friend.

Okay. I think I might do it. I might read that email. - - it's been 45 seconds since I decided I was going to read it, and I'm getting anxiety. Maybe I shouldn't. BUT REMEMBER HANNAH. He has no power over you and he won't know you read it and you are in a safe place. You're okay. I've never been more aware of my anxiety until this year since I haven't been depressed ( like felt heavy) in  a long time.

Well, I read both and my whole body is shaking. because anxiety is great. it was a note telling me he still thought of me. that he moved back to his hometown. Wow. It's so interesting to read what he said, and then knowing I didn't read it, see my response. But you know what, I don't care. He realized where I had fit in his life, and it was too late. "As always, I'll respect what you need"... BAHAH WHAT A FUCKING JOKE. He's delusional. Our relationship was so unbalanced and problematic and toxic. And he only ever imposed his thoughts and feelings onto me, and then removed himself as soon as I started to lean on him. So, I'd fall and I'd break my bones. He mentioned missing our conversations but not missing me as an actual person. He misses what I gave him. I don't feel the need to actively hate him, but he really hurt me.

And honestly, I'm glad that J doesn't want to have conversations the way he and I did. Well, it's not that he doesn't want to, he just doesn't think that way, so he doesn't communicate that way. I always knew how much I cared about C, and what I thought we could be and have. But he was so absorbed in his own thoughts. There was a rough lesson I learned in that whole painful process. If someone doesn't know how they feel about me, but I know how I feel about them, then that's it. I walk away. Because I'm not going to stand here, knowing how I feel, while they are uncertain and unsteady. I think that's my Taurus in Venus coming out. And that's what would upset me so much. How can you really see me, SEE ME, loving you so fiercely, and yet be so uncertain? And I realized, no more. Never again. That got through to J. And it's never gotten through to anyone before him. So, that's how I know he loves me as I am. I don't feel insecure anymore, and I don't worry about it when we fight about similar stuff that we broke up over. We have a foundation, and it's going to last for a while.

Well, I guess I've released a bit of what has been sitting there on the surface. Almost done with that second cup of coffee, but I don't think I'll get a third. That would be a bit much. I can't believe it took me four months to actually read that email. I used to jump on what he'd send me, but not anymore. And he said he was done trying to contact me. OH you are NOW? I thought my ignoring you was obvious enough for you to stop?? If he had just given me space like I had asked for, this could've been handled much differently, but he's never respected my needs. And every single time I got a voicemail and then an email... It made my anger grow so deeply. It took root, and became grounded into my stomach. He should've left me alone. I can't blame myself for how I reacted. Just because I read it now, I shouldn't judge myself or be hard on myself. He needed to know that his thoughtless actions have consequences, that his selfishness will cost him.

He isn't the only person that lost me as a friend this year. Well, technically he lost me last year, but it's "more official" now. Ha. How can someone say they KNOW they didn't do something when they also say they don't remember everything? Hmmm. That makes all the sense in the world. No more being friends with people that give me anxiety, that I have to serve to constantly, who I have to be who they want me to be, who make me feel like I have to be silent, who make me feel overwhelmed, who never let me talk, who play mind games, who treat me like a product... I'm not going to join in on the toxicity anymore. If you burn me, I WILL DROP YOU. If I can't be my real self around you, I won't go out of my way to be around you at all. I don't care who you are.

Alright bye for now. 

these are Delicate Matters

Some parts of my life are a blur. The times I felt too much or didn't want to feel at all are like very distant dreams, and I can only see them through thick, colorful glasses. I wasn't a "normal" child. While reading the Empath Experience my friend B gave me, I recognize that I never mimicked others so tremendously that I didn't know who I was. I've always had depth, I've always connected better with older people, or really just older souls, and I always had an interest in spirituality, deep emotions expressiveness, creativity, writing, and nature. The more I learn about my Empathy, and also take into account my natal chart, I was shaped to be exactly who I am so spectacularly. I am a moon child, a Cancer sun sign, with the moon as my planet, and I was born on a Monday. I see the moon and feel peace, and I don't dread Mondays (more like Tuesdays....) I also am a Libra moon, and Libra's generally seek peace, balance and harmony. They weigh out the options, and take their time to assess situations, and choose what will create the greatest good (or try to) and finding the truth is very important to them. Libra represents weights/balances/scales. Creating calm in my life, finding calm, and identifying what gives me anxiety and seeking to relieve it has been a driving factor in my choices. What's interesting is, as a Libra moon, that makes sense. As a Virgo rising, the anxiety I deal with makes sense. And then add in being an Empath, it's just a perfect recipe tied up with a bow. I'm not saying I'm perfect, but I was born at the precise time I was supposed to be born in order to deal with being who I am.

While I'm reading some of the first chapter of the book my friend gave me, I'm a little nervous to really dive into my abilities. Just reading these introductory paragraphs leave me in tears. I'm not losing my shit, but just tearing up. Like wow. It's so good to know I am not alone in my experiences, my intense experiences. But also, what does it mean to really empower myself with this skill? I think I developed depression as a coping mechanism for feeling too much, because when really traumatic things happened, I just couldn't handle it. I think I sensed my dad's depression, what he told me he experienced when we first moved to Indiana, and I adapted to it? It's just a theory. I remember writing a poem about being raped, my mom finding it, and freaking out. I was trying to process what happened to my sister, and I only heard bits and pieces of the story, but I knew she had been abused to some degree. Yes, I was only 9 yrs old when all these things were revealed, but I understood. I saw my dad weep, and I knew it was something so devastating that my father, while an emotional being, wouldn't hide weeping from us anymore. I don't remember my dad every showing us him tear up, even though I know he would cry when he prayed intensely. Well, at least I know that in later years, when we moved to Indiana. I don't know if he actually did that when we lived in PA, before what happened. The only lie my mom every inadvertently told me was to view moving to Indiana like a vacation. She knew it would be hell, but she wanted to keep a brave face, and not seem so defeated as she was. But I knew she was devastated, and I knew she was resentful toward the universe that she was losing the first place she really called home. Maybe that's why I was so hateful towards Indiana, and Hoosier things for so long, My parents never wanted to be here either, and I could sense that in all of us. I just didn't know I was picking up the others' vibes and emotions.

It makes sense that I eventually have come to hate certain people that I do hate. The energy they give off is so revealing to me of who they really are. I hate them for being soul sucking leeches, and no one else seeming to pick up on it. They overwhelm me, and being with them for more than a day just bogs me down, and I have actually cried from it before. When I was surrounded by certain people a few years ago for 4 days straight with no down time, I started crying while we all sat in the living room. I hid it because how could I explain, Hey I'm so overwhelmed by your high energy and life sucking personalities that I am actually in tears..? I am grateful that I have had a job where people have been awful to me and I learned to really toughen up and speak up sooner, and not be afraid to be anxiety ridden but speak my truth anyway. I've learned that a lot this last year. Yes, I hate how I've been treated at my job, but I also have grown that this experience was necessary, too. That is the good thing about myself; I try to find purpose and meaning and lessons in all of my experiences. I learned how to really sift through my memories and experiences in a beneficial way because of my counselor at school. She taught me to look at the key phrases I use that stand out, and to dig deeper but also to give myself space and grace to heal.

Being an Empath sometimes means understanding so much about the people around me before they know if for themselves. I have learned to just fully trust my intuition and not to be so anxious about others responses. It's not that I HAVE TO BE RIGHT. It's that the energy I pick up is never wrong. It isn't me... The people I experience omit enough energy off themselves, that it is what I am really seeing and talking about, and it isn't my own opinions most of the time. It is was I see and experience, and it's outside of me. I have learned more that while things are personal in how people/ "friends" treat me or react, most people are selfish and too focused on self preservation to really care about how something effects others until they are confronted about it. Our initial reaction is to double down and defend ourselves. I only defend myself when I know 100% something isn't true. I want someone to dislike me for what is true about me that they don't like, not for a lie or a misconception they created to make themselves feel better. I also realized that I want to be a specific type of person with all people, and I won't be close to people who make me feel like I can't be that person. I did cut off a "best friend" recently because I realized I was just not myself with her, and she wasn't the type of friend I wanted anymore. Being friends with her had been a negative experience for a long time, but I tried to justify it because I knew deep down she cared about me, but it was always on her terms, and never how I needed to be cared for. It was selfish. I'm not here to say I am so much better, but I am blessed that my Empathy has forced me to pay attention to how the people I'm closest to need love. I don't get to choose how B or J or N needs to be loved. Their energy shows me what they need, and I have to comply, otherwise I'm failing my duty as an Empath. I have this ability for a reason. I need to take care to listen to my intuition and senses.

All these thoughts I'm working through and typing out reminded me of something B recently said to me. "You are one of the most selfless people I know..." I used to take things a lot more personally than I do now. I really have seen that most people are too caught up in their own schemes to really notice what they've done, and how it hurts someone else... the ripple effect. I don't excuse the behavior, but I understand it. There is more to this treatment than just being mean or hurtful to me, or neglectful or whatever. And I think once I somehow realized that we all do what we think makes sense outside of the consequences that can occur, that helped me really remove myself from others choices and understand them better. The hurt and pain is still there, but now I know why. So, I stopped needing to ask why someone did something, because I learned sometimes there really isn't a clear answer in their own hearts, and I would probably be better off not knowing, or just reading the vibes and leaving it alone. But I made ground rules for myself in my intimate relationships. And I won't stay close to anyone who won't comply. You might think that's selfish, but it isn't because I want equal, empowering, honest friendships that are deep, helpful, nurturing, seeking balance together, and being empathetic (in the general sense and not to my depth/degree). What I want for myself is something that others should have too! We should learn how to care for each other how we need, and not just how we want to do something. I won't be with someone who wants codependency, or flattery, or wants me to bend to their will. That takes away the realness.

I also know that at a certain point, past experiences or memories cannot be brought up again to use against someone if I decided to not address them. If I chose that it was best to let go of something, it needs to be let go of. If I hadn't figured out what to do yet, and it spans over a period of years, that's different for me. This isn't about justifying grudges. I seek resolvement, but sometimes it is very hard to find resolvement when the issue is a consistent wave, crashing down every year but never giving me enough time to work through what I feel. When I say "what I feel," that includes much more than just my emotional reactions.

I may add more to my thoughts here later, but I need to pause for now.

A Little Bit of Complaining, A Little Bit of Relief

Yesterday, I experienced pure joy for the first time in a while. I am going to work for Anthropologie, a store who's aesthetic I fell in love with the moment I walked in 5 years ago. There wasn't this dream in the back of my mind to work for the company, but the opportunity arose when I saw a posting on Linkedin during my constant job search. They had me submit an application with some paragraph answers, and then fill out a survey. After that, I was asked to meet with the hiring manager, and we talked and she asked when I could start new hire training. My mouth dropped, I'm sure. I didn't realize I had the job! This is a large company, with several brands that are linked, and the headquarters are in Philadelphia (the city I've wanted to move to probably about as long as I knew that I wanted an apartment that had the same vibes as Anthropologie). It isn't that the starting pay is so much better than the job I currently have, it's the exact same starting pay. But with this company, there are opportunities to move upward and forward, and maybe just plain MOVE. The variety of merchandise this store holds might come across as overwhelming to someone who's used to selling one type of product, but I've been working at a thrift store for the last 8 months, and had to learn about all sorts of items that I knew nothing about or didn't even know what they were. I don't know if you can tell, but I can feel the eagerness in my thoughts and words as I type about this.

I'm ready for something new and fresh, a change of pace, an actual good discount, making new connections with coworkers and hopefully making more female friends out of this. I need to separate my personal life from my work life more, mostly as a way to stay sane because I am so so tired of all the crossover. I can't wait to tell the bosses at my current place that I got another job, and I'll be cutting my hours. It feels so empowering to know that it's their loss, a huge loss when I cut hours, and that it will cause them some issues. That sounds cruel, but I am tired of the BS, the low pay, no benefits, and constant scrutiny without real direction. I hate that I have a burden of responsibility and not a compensation to match it. I'm tired of hour long conversations that cover the same history lesson and no new helpful information. I'm tired of the attitudes and arrogance of the bosses, the gossip, and as the newest manager there puts it "mental masturbation." They sit around, drone on and on just to hear themselves talk, and they pat themselves on the back for it. Curse me the day someone I know reads this and this gets back to them, but honestly they should check themselves. I don't wish them ill, but they really need to stop thinking so highly of their "ideals" and "dreams" and actually pay attention to what's happening. They tell one person to stay in their lane, but yet let a different person consistently bully, boss around, and talk shit about whatever person they decided will be their bitch for a while. I've told one of them straight to their face that I would voice more concerns or issues I have if I believed I would be listened to or that they'd care. Did he even ask what I meant? hahahahaha NOOOOO. Because THEY DON'T CARE. I'm sick of that. I want to be valued, especially when they tell me the position I do is the most valuable part of the whole company (which isn't true in my opinion, but if it were true, it's pretty pathetic that I get paid such little money to essentially make sure the company doesn't fall apart....)

This job I have could be viewed like a toxic relationship. I'm not valued. I'm talked in circles. I don't benefit from it, except just the name. There's no direction, just a lot of selfishness, egotistical behavior, hypocrisy, and neglect. Yep, sounds like a bad relationship.

Just from the conversation with the hiring manager, I can already tell that this company promotes thinking about what's best for the workers, and creating a team that helps each other, and succeeds together. She said that those who want to work up into management do it. And when I told her I graduated with a degree in communications, she mentioned that their hq's are in Philly and that maybe one day I'd be working in the comm department. It was so thoughtful, and I've never had someone who was "interviewing" me think of MY future for me. This is a good thing. I really think that Anthropologie will be good to/for me and I will be good for them.

Something to remember, Hannah, is to not let the workplace become your only social place, and also to speak up even when you think the people won't listen. Value yourself, even though someone else might not. Speaking up to a boss that is difficult or won't listen to you shows them how you want to be treated. If you're silent all the time, sometimes that's just being passive and not helpful at all. Speak up when you KNOW you should, and be patient when the timing isn't right. I get to reinvent myself at this new workplace, and I am going to be someone great.

I thought I was done, but...

I had a dream last night that held characters from my past. There were people I had not thought about in depth for a long time, and there were others who I think about often. I didn't feel sadness, regret, or unsettled. Dreams continue to leave me with leftover feelings, no matter what they are about. Over the last year, I have severe night terrors that I hadn't experienced in such a long time. Dreams concern me because of the various times that they materialized. Maybe that's silly. There are not many things that leave me unhinged and anxious for extended periods of time anymore. What I hope is that I've developed healthy coping skills and have thrown aside most of the harmful ones.

On the tip of my tongue, I know there is much I want to say and relay. Blogging here always helped me settle what was in my head, or at least helped me work through it. I really enjoy coming back later and re-reading things I was processing. I miss leaving thoughts for future Hannah. Something I recognized about myself yesterday was that I have always sought out inner peace. Maybe I can finally give a polite nod to my religious upbringing for pounding the idea of conviction into me. Whenever I have felt extremely unsettled or anxious, or someone has emitted that energy, I have sought out whatever solution will make that feeling go away, and calm will come in. I'd break my heart to feel spiritual calm. It's really strange, but as I've developed this skill apart from religion, it has helped me find balance. Counseling really helped me develop.

Something else I've learned is that the inner voice directing me to feel uncomfortable about different things had nothing to do with conviction or the holy spirit. This came from my own instinct, intuition, and my empathy. I've paid attention to people, how I feel around them, and what I do to counteract when I feel negative. I didn't really believe it when my roommate told me I'm an empath, but the more I pay attention to people I care about/am around a lot, I can really identify what is them and what is me. I think about how others would feel about something, and I avoid confronting people who I know will emit feelings/energy that I don't want to absorb or be around. It's not just that I don't trust people with my opinion, it's also that I don't want their vibes. I honestly don't believe I'm so kind and thoughtful or caring as maybe I can appear. I want peace and calm, and I'll do everything I can to feel that way. I've done that my whole life.

Looking at my life through the lens that I am an empath, it's so strange to see things connecting differently. I had early depression. I was ten when I first experienced severe depression, dark thoughts. A couple of years ago, I was talking to my dad about the depression I was experiencing, when my emotions were completely gone and I just wasn't myself. He told me he didn't have depression like I did, but he remembered being deeply depressed when we first moved to Indiana. He had feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness, and wanting to die. Then, when I was listening to a podcast for Empaths, I remembered that conversation I had with my dad. "HOLY SHIT." It hit me. No wonder I was internally destroyed for years. I felt my dad's depression, and who knows who else's feelings. I've shown old poems to friends from when I was 14 years old, and they reacted like, "Wow, I was thinking of way simpler things when I was 14." I remember feeling everything.

Now I understand why it was so hard for me to want to be around my sister for a while. She is chaotic and passionate, her energy is loud and abrupt. I just internally wanted it to stop, and I didn't know how to handle it. She isn't as fucked by conflict as I can get, it seems. I could feel the anger dripping off her, and I hated that energy because I fucking hate anything but calm. I only fix problems because I hate feeling so unsettled. Is it purely selfish if it generally leads me to do the right/best thing? I also know I pay attention to body language. I worry about my friends' actions/behaviors not by how it affects me, but how it might fuck them over in the future if they continue to react in ways that I know aren't the best. I don't think I know everything or know better, I just know that I pay very close attention to people I care about, and that what I see won't be things they see. I also can feel their energy, and I just want to show them how to find calm and peace on their own. I just want to help.

I've never known myself so well before, and I know I am okay. If anything, life is good. There are really difficult things going on right now, and I've worked through many hard things before. I will continue to pursue peace, and do things that bring happiness and pleasure. At this point, I think I'm fully de-converted (haha that just sounds funny to me right now, I don't know why). I'm not angry about how I was raised much anymore, and I spiritually feel open. I don't need to figure out anything for certain, like how the universe was made. All I know is I exist for now, and there are others surrounding me who are in physical and spiritual forms that just want to keep existing, too. I don't care to identify as anything specific. I used to think, why should I believe something just because I like it or how it makes me feel? But now, I'm kind of thinking, if I like this idea, why can't I believe in it if I want to?



Babe, you're not lost.

Season Finale

There is something about this moment in my life right now that feels like the end of a 6 season TV series. This is the last episode, the season finale of Red Panda, and here comes the big surprise. There is no such thing as happily ever after. Paths get fucked up all the time and lead us to where we never thought we'd be. TV shows tend to end after some big event occurs (like graduation). I leave for Chicago to fly out to Austria in just 45 minutes. This journey, with you my dear Red Panda blog, has been chaos and beautiful, sorrowful and breaking, renewing and reviving, destructive and instrumental.

I walked out of my apartment, last one out, leaving my key and parking tag behind. It would have been movie like if my suitcase hadn't gotten got on one of the rivets in the sidewalk and I dropped it completely. (Yes, I laughed). Fuck movie moments. I've had enough to be grateful for, but they are just moments and moments slip by. There are people and loves and hurts I've hung onto because I hoped somehow they would be renewed, fulfilled, and come back to me. I have to let go. This is the final chapter of of a part of me that is gone now.

Can you believe that 6 years ago I was graduating high school, and I was so lost and that terrified me? I lost myself completely, just to find me again, and to find myself in the eyes and hearts of others I never could have imagined in my life. I am learning how to be honest and authentic, not just with friends or strangers, but finally with my family. It has taken years to not fear them, fear what they think, what they'd say or do, and if they wouldn't love me anymore. I can't be careful just because of that fear. Since when I have I ever backed down and turned around and stopped? These last six years prove that I don't give up. I'm emotional and tearing up, but not because I'm sad. I just can't believe I made it. My cousin told my oldest sister yesterday that, "Hannah looks so happy. I have never seen her just look this happy." I am.

I'm moving out, moving on, moving forward, and I am going to make it. To anyone who followed my journey through Red Panda, thanks for being there. And to future Hannah: look at you, girl. You've come so far, you've endured, you've loved, you've conquered! I love you now, and I will love you always.

List Out

This is it. This is my last post as a college undergrad. In just 30 minutes, my graduating class and I will be lining up to do a run-through of the ceremony tomorrow. Then, tomorrow comes, I walk in with my classmates, and I get my diploma (in the mail because I'm technically not done 'til after my trip to Austria). I leave for Austria in 2 days. I have to tell my parents I'm moving out when they come up for my graduation tomorrow. I'm nervous. I'm anxious. I'm ready.

When I started this blog, I don't really remember what I hoped it would become. I knew that it would be a place I could come to and vent, poetize, and figure out what's going on in my head. I have unleashed many stories, poems, and tears over the things I've written on here. This blog has seen me at my worst and at my most in love or happiest. I am rising out of yet another series of deep depression, and I continue to rise stronger. I can't believe that just in 9 months, I had at least 3 periods of deep depression. That has to be the worst I've experienced yet, but I emerged still.

I'm more anxious to tell my parents (my mom) I'm moving out in July. Even though I will be 24 in a month an a half, I still get so much anxiety when it comes to talking to my mom about anything. She is very self-righteous, and seems to enjoy making others need her, or having others need her. I keep thinking she is just going to severely judge me for any decision I make. I remember that my sister left home and moved out at midnight when she was almost 23. If she can do that, I can move out during the day and in a planned fashion. I know my relationship with my parents is different than hers, and I know my mom views me differently, but that doesn't mean it's right. I also just need out. If I wait around and stay at home, H will be offended and hurt by that, and I also will prolong the inevitable (moving out). Sometimes making things work, surviving, learning how to live on my own or save money, is by forcing myself to just do it. That's what I've always wanted to just do, but my mom has always infiltrated my thoughts with panic about finances, causing me to believe I won't make it. She recently said to me that she was concerned I wouldn't make it on my own. Well, look at me, mom. Trying to make it on my own.

Reasons to tell my parents why I want to move out:
1. I need to just do it and be responsible for myself
2. I want to prove I can make it
3. The girl I'm going to live with is AWESOME and the situation is perfect for me
4. The rent is not bad, and I need to take this opportunity
5. I want to live closer to work
6. After living on my own, it's hard to come back home and be the kid again (because yes, I will be the kid still).
7. After living on my own, it's going to make us living together much harder, and I want to keep our relationship good.
8. I'm going to be 24 years old.
9. I want to connect to the community I'm going to be a part, so living there is a better decision, especially now that it is an option.

Yes, I took a picture of those reasons. Yes, I have weird knots in my stomach just thinking about talking to my mom about moving out. My dad brought it up though, last weekend. He told me I needed to start thinking about the cost of an apartment in Indy, and other expenses. I told him I had thought about those things in detail, and since I didn't know anyone who needed a roommate, that I couldn't afford to get an apartment on my own. But just within 2 days of saying that, I talked to my good friend, and she connected me to her best friend who was looking for a housemate within the next couple of months. Ary can live there. Rent is affordable. She's a fun-loving, honest, open, and spiritual girl.

Well, I have to leave this coffee shop and go back to campus and get this practice over with.

Quotes on Decoration

"Love with your whole heart." A TJ Maxx wooden canvas decor piece has that phrase written on it. There are others similar to it that say, "Home is wherever I'm with you" or "Home is where you hang your heart." Those didn't cause a twinge of any feeling in me like the first one. I feel pain thinking about that phrase. I've had to fit a role my whole life, I've played a role my whole life, and I've been afraid to just make people accept me for who I am and what I really think. I was afraid until I met some of the friends I've made in the last two years.

Trust me, I've thought about so much stuff in the last few months that my mind could explode. The good part is that all the things I wasn't dealing with in a good way, or not really dealing with at all, have slapped me in the face and demanded attention. The relationship I created with my parents is on the verge of completely disappearing and becoming something else. The hurtful words and holier-than-thou beliefs about my sister have dissipated, and I refused to apologize to my mom about something I said she thought was rude. I am changing. Is it love to finally show who I am? My sister told me that I have been a form of deceitful, and she is right. It's been out of fear that I've withdrawn and not said otherwise in the past, but I have slowly shifted from that as my thoughts, beliefs, ideals, and morals have grown and changed.

Gosh, I want to love with my whole heart. I've been shown love to look so conditional. I told my friend A last night that it's not that I don't believe someone out there could be the perfect-timing-Alex for me. I know I'm not capable of loving a man at this point. What happened to me, what has happened to me, those scars and that trauma has caused a ripple effect, and I didn't even realize that until now. This school year led me to become a very different person. Is there a difference between deeply caring and deeply loving? How do I become capable of loving someone?

The best choice for me right now is to not try to commit to anyone for a while. I don't know how long "a while" is, but I haven't jumped into a new relationship thingy and it's been three weeks since I ended things with K. I'd say I'm proud of me, and I am, but at the same time, I've been too severely emotionally depressed, sickly/ill, and busy.  Though I have reached out to some, it's been half heartedly. I even asked someone to coffee, which he postponed because of business, but I was kind of relieved he did. A said its possible to have a relationship with someone where we "girl talk" but also are in love. That'd be nice. A male version of B and my cousin would be perfect for me. Someone who really listens to what I say and someone who doesn't freak out about what I say.

You know how doomed I'd be if the wrong person found my blog? I've thought about that a little bit, but it would also kind of be relieving because then I wouldn't have to say everything to people. However, some things have been shared when I probably wasn't in the calmest state of mind. I'd really like for the cognitive dissonance to be reduced. You either change your mindset or change your behavior. I do both in different situations. I don't know. Some people can never be their true selves, which is strange and somewhat sad to think about.

A might have found me a roommate; her best friend needs a housemate in August. We're supposed to video chat tonight, and then officially meet once I'm back from Austria, which I can't believe I'm leaving for in A WEEK! The setup is perfect for me, and even the timing is ideal. Two whole months at my new job would give me a steady income, and not too much time at home. My sister offered me to move in with her and her boyfriend, but he's moving in June, around the time I'd need to move in. I'd live there for two months just to move out? I don't know. I want to not move back in with my parents, but my stuff is already there, and moving Ary twice wouldn't be fair to her. I'm conflicted. At this point, if I move in with my sister, my mom will take it directly as something against her, like I'm choosing my sister over her. There's already all this tension over stupid shit, over my mom just never standing down and always having to be right in her beliefs. Well, I guess the joke's on you mom because we don't believe those things anymore. So, her righteousness has no hold on us, the argument doesn't work anymore, and it doesn't give her more credibility.

I can't believe I graduate in 6 days. Maybe I'll find love in Austria. I don't mean a man. Maybe I'll find healing and be able to purge myself of some of the baggage I'm taking there with me. I overheard someone in a line for a concert say (basically) "The flight attendant will probably stop me from boarding with a carry on bag because I have too much baggage." So I rephrased that as, "I have too much emotional baggage to bring a carry-on." Well, I am hoping that I can leave some behind.

S/p/l/i/t

Last night I watched the movie Split with my friend B for her birthday. We tend to watch creepy/horror movies together. I needed a good creeped out experience, but this movie wasn't just some aimlessly gory and horrific film. I do watch movies with the lens of "what does this movie say about our culture?" and "why was this movie made?" Normal people don't watch movies with that in mind, but due to my college education, I am doomed to analyze the crap out of media. It's okay. It helps me find the valuable parts of what I'm watching, and also to be a little objective when watching something.

So, the basic synopsis of the movie is a young adult male that has a personality disorder kidnaps three teenage girls. These girls meet several of the male's personalities. Two of the girls have never faced hardship, innocence stolen, abuse, etc, and the third girl was put into the custody of her uncle, who has molested her since she was a little girl, after her father died. The Male repeats different times about having "untouched girls" for "the beast." Once his 24th personality emerges, it ravages the "untouched girls" and starts charging toward the third girl. She had obtained the male's shotgun and was shooting at him until she enclosed herself in a cell for protection. When the male came to it, he started pulling apart the bars so that he could eat her, but then he saw the scars and marks on her stomach and arms. He saw that she wasn't untouched, but rather had been abused (like he had been by his mother years ago).

He stops trying to reach her and tells her she is pure - that the damaged are pure. Because she was (and maybe was still) abused, she understood things way beyond what those other two girls could. That made me think about the power of abuse and how people who haven't been through something traumatic react to something versus those who have. In the moment of something so terrifying, you realize what is about to happen to you, and it might not make sense (to an outside viewer if they could see) how you respond. We who watch what is happening on the TV screen can objectively say, Oh wow, girl you shouldn't have done that, but done this. But I have been in that moment where my actions couldn't match what seemed sensible. I couldn't make up a clear, quick response. All I knew in that terrifying moment was: get it over with, stay calm, survive, don't provoke them further.

The point of Split wasn't to terrify the public about abduction and split personality disorder, The point was that when people abuse others, there are terrible effects as a result. The victim will always live life affected by that trauma, and they will never react to circumstances the same way as those who haven't been through abuse. I'd like to be optimistic and say one day I will fully heal from the trauma, but I won't. My brain will always be scarred by it. My decisions in life are affected by my fears, my scars, my past trauma. The only way for the Male to cope was to develop personalities that were stronger than himself. But eventually that erupted into chaos, abduction, and murder.

So, yeah I did go to bed with images of James crawling up my walls and coming to eat my bowels, but I wasn't really frightened by that movie itself. I was frightened by how horrible the long term effects of abuse can be. I live in fear that I'll have to face someone I am scared to face. I live in fear somehow they will find a way to contact me again. There are so many things I just should've done in that moment, but I didn't do, and I cannot fucking hold that over my head anymore. It's done. That moment is gone, but the effects are evermore present. My trust in people is strained. 

Last Night I Did a Lot of Thinking

It’s nothing new that I overthink. But last night, I wrote out a poem, or was it this morning, about someone that I miss. The problem with dating different people or loving different people is that there are parts of them that I will always love more. I take away the parts that hurt and the parts that healed, and I’m left jaded and with expectations. We all have expectations. I’m no exception to that. 

“Don’t let the imaginary person in your head stop you from loving the person right in front of you.” I read that on Tumblr a few years ago now. I used to really struggle with having this ideal, this prince charming in my head. To some extent, the dreams I had of this person still affect what I imagine, but also people these days just trigger fears. I think that if I had less experience, I’d be less jaded, and things would bother me less. Like the cowardice or distance or selfish language wouldn’t freak me out as much because I’d have nothing it reminded me of. People stop putting me at ease. Things end once that happens. Either they ghost me or I end the relationship. 

Nostalgia, as I’ve said somewhere else, is dangerous to play games with. You’ve got to be careful where you let your thoughts dwell and stay. Sometimes it’s really harmful. I don’t know if thinking about C is really harmful or not. Don’t worry. I am not about to contact him and ask, Would you please take me if I moved to where you are? We have an understanding. I used to want to settle down, and he can’t do the distance between us. I get that. Sometimes perfect moments are just that: moments. I’ve had several perfect moments with him, and maybe full-time would be completely awful. I can’t let myself fantasize about what I don’t know.

I wrote a poem, and it conjured up feelings I had. Come June, we met two years ago, and it seems like a life time ago, but also just like a couple days ago. I remember how are banter made me feel. I remember how inclusive R was, and invited me to join them after the concert. I remember how I had to stop somewhere to buy chapstick because my lips were hurting so bad. They saved me a seat right next to C, of course. It’s funny how I best connected with the single one, and then R. We had good conversations. I miss them all, but mostly miss those two, missing C of course the most. I don’t know when I’ll see them again, if I’ll see them again. What’s hard is that I think part of me can’t really commit to someone now because I am in love with the idea of C and I finally trying out a relationship together. I admit that, in love with the idea. I don’t know if it would really work. With where I’m at now, it takes away the limitations of who I can date. To the deepest part of my heart, I do want to move to Texas. I’ve been trying to make that happen. But then Grad school kind of fell through, and my plans of moving closer to him did, too. 

After my relationship crumbled with Christian back in 2012, I promised myself to never choose a guy over my future/career/ my plans while I'm trying to figure out what to do with my life. And I haven't so far. I've not let it stop me. But to some extent, I have. I've let past hurts or past loves stop me from moving forward in relationships. It's not like I have ended relationships that shouldn't have ended. I have always had valid reasons, and I wasn't being a crazy jerk.

I guess the question is, would I move my life for the chance to be with C?  Am I, deep down, in love with C? Could I fully commit and trust him? Could he feel that way about me in return, and also trust me?

Maybe. I don't know.