In Search of Inner Peace: Beginnings

"Write hard and clear about what hurts." - Ernest Hemingway

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When I was a kid, I couldn't wait to grow up. I couldn't wait to grow up because I had this vision in my mind, this idea, that when I was older, everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be right, everything was going to be as it should be. I was going to be okay, I was going to be fixed -- I wasn't going to be sick anymore. 

I'm not sure what put this idea in my head, but I just couldn't imagine a future where I was still sick. Surely, it had to end. But high school came and went, then 18, 19, 20, and.... nothing. Nothing changed.

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I feel betrayed by my body. I feel angry and cheated. This isn't how it's supposed to be, this isn't how it's supposed to work, but that's just it - it doesn't work. Something went haywire in my immune system and instead of functioning properly, it can't tell the difference between healthy and foreign cells, so it goes into overdrive, leading to joints that swell and bones that ache, skin cells that don't know when to stop reproducing, causing bright red patches across my face and limbs, and leaving a body and mind that feel tired beyond their years.

So here I am at 23, feeling betrayed and tired. But also feeling like I'm finally ready to come to terms with my body, my reality, myself. There are a lot of things that I've kept bottled up my entire life, things I've never faced or vocalized or worked through, things that have caused so much inner turmoil and anxiety. But I think I am finally ready to start letting go and to start on this journey of searching for inner peace. I'll try to be as brutally honest, transparent, and vulnerable as I could possibly be -- feel free to come along for the ride.

Solitude

I'm filled with an insatiable desire for solitude. It's always with me, tucked away in the corners of mind, always waiting to be acknowledged. I forget about it from time to time, but it's always there, and I always come back to it. And the coming back is always overwhelming but it's always a homecoming. It's something that I haven't been able to lose and I don't know if it's something that I'll ever be able to lose or if it's something that's always going to be there, always going to be waiting for me to give it attention, always waiting for me. Waiting for me to be a stranger among strangers because I guess that's where I imagine myself finding peace for myself and from myself and finding something, something that I'm searching for and hoping to find one day on the outskirts of everything I know and hoping, hoping for something that I don't know but all I know now, right now, is that I'm filled with an insatiable desire for solitude.

Hump Day

What a terrible week.

Wait

Graduation is in two weeks: at last! No more papers, no more readings, no more tests, no more -- wait. No more...friends. No more co-workers, no more roommates, no more of those who have shaped and molded my life and my mind and my very being for the past one two three four years -- no more. Wait. No more. No, I'm not ready for no more. Wait.

I'm Not Sorry

I'm done apologizing for what I want and what I need. Never again will I utter a "sorry" after texting you, again, after I've been drinking because I stop myself when I'm sober. When I'm sober I rationalize and tell myself, "No, there's no need to bother him; he's busy, he'll talk to me when he has time." But those rationalizations don't overcome my desire to know that I am present and on your mind. I am done apologizing for wanting to know that just because I'm out of sight, doesn't mean I'm out of mind; I am done with waiting on you to grace me with your attention; I am done with hanging on to your every word. I want affirmation, and this does not make me "clingy" or "needy." (The audacity, wanting to know that I am appreciated and loved...) This is what I want, this is what I need, and for that, never again, will I be sorry.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

- Robert Frost, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"

Україна

It's quite bewildering that the political turmoil, civil disaster, and overall strife of a nation I've never even seen with my own eyes makes my heart so heavy. But it somehow aches like home.

Боже, я молюсь за Україну,
Боже, молю Тебе за людей.

Standing

It's the end of another week, month, year. And to think, I sometimes still have no idea where I stand with you.

Words pt. II

As the road to hell is paved with good intentions, so are the words stemming from your lips. You'd wish to shower your affections on the cracks in my mind and my heart in hopes of allowing flowers to spud and to bloom from within, to nourish my life and make it rosy but you can't -- you can't. I won't let you because your words are so sweet, I would breathe them in and swallow them whole but I can't -- I can't. Because your words are lathered with honey and are whispered with the best of intentions but that's where it ends. That's where it ends.

Words

Words are empty, so bite your tongue. If your plans do not include your actions succeeding your words, keep them to yourself. Bite your tongue, your words are useless to me.

Overly

Overly expressive, overly expectant.

Never have I felt so pathetic.

Life

First mental breakdown of the semester: check.

And classes haven't even started yet.

Wedding Nuances

[Preface: I am not against marriage. If you have found the person that you want to be with for the long haul, good for you. That is seriously amazing, and I wish you the best. Go forth and prosper, as equals. I just really, really, really, hate the little nuances that are intertwined with weddings. Specifically, the ones that are associated with the bride.]

For starters, it is tradition for the boyfriend to ask the father for his blessing/permission to marry his daughter. My question is why. What does it matter what the father says? If it's to ensure good family relations, why not ask the mother? And then the siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc. Why not ask any of them? It is completely irrelevant what the father thinks, in regard to how the two feel about one another, and yet why is this "permission" needed? Because it is rooted in the idea that a woman is property and belongs in the possession of a man.

Similarly, the tradition of the father walking the bride down the aisle and "giving her away." Can we even just look at the language: giving her away. Again, the bride is seen as a possession. And this is nothing but a transfer of ownership, from one man to another.

The next thing I want to consider is the title of "Mrs." Male titles do not change when they get married because a man is not defined by his marital status, but a woman definitely is. Why can't we just universally accept that Mr. will be for all men, and Ms. for all women? Why does it have to change to Mrs., to notify any outside that a woman is married? Also, why, at weddings, do they always announce, (for example) "For the first time, I welcome Mr. and Mrs. John Smith!" Where has the woman gone? It seems as if she's been completely absorbed by her husband, not only taking his last name, but now only being referred to as being his counterpart, and only in relation to him.

These three things really grind my gears because they are just considered as traditions. The original meaning or sentiment behind them (hopefully) no longer exists, but the fact that they are rooted in such chauvinism -- it's not something that I can get over. These traditions will always bother me and I can only hope that culture will continue to change, and that we relinquish these ties and establish better traditions.

As mush as I loathe these practices, it is nothing in comparison to the worst offender: the fact that a woman's wedding day is her "big day."

Women spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on their weddings, waste hours upon hours planning out every single minute detail, and expect every little thing to be perfect for one single day - and it's completely normal. Never is a groom seen stressing as much over a wedding, and is told to allow the bride to do what she wants, because it's her big day. It's "what she has been dreaming of since she was a little girl." These are accepted ideas that continue to be prevalent and domineering in society and I. Can't. Stand. It.

Does a woman's greatest accomplishment rest in that ring on her finger? Is the epitome and pinnacle of her life her wedding day? For many, yes, it is. And that is a damn shame. Is she worth nothing more? Is a woman's entire value wrapped up in whether or not she acquires a husband? Is there really nothing better, nothing greater, that she can accomplish in her life or do for herself?

I'll be damned if someone tells me that my "big day" is when I get married. Why can my "big day" not be the day that I graduate college? It's a bit taken for granted in our society, but compared to the rest of the world, I'm damn fortunate and accomplished if I have a degree. Why can it not be the day that I get my law degree? Or the day that I become a partner in a firm? Or whatever other career I choose to pursue - why can the start of that career not be considered my "big day?" And what if I choose to never get married? I'd be looked down upon, and pitied, because oh poor me oh my, how sad that no man wants to spend his life with me.

I have so much more to offer to the world than my damn hand in marriage. I just wish other women would see themselves the same way.

I'm Leaving, I'm Gone

You're stuck in a chauvinistic, racist, homophobic state of mind and you don't even realize it. Or, rather, you do - you just don't care. To you it's all a joke. Rape, domestic violence, discrimination based on race, sexual orientation, and gender - it's all just a joke.

You go give God your time of day, wearing your Sunday best, but your very being is drenched with the stench of your hypocrisy; you disgust me. You physically revolt me. I get to thinking about the spiral that your mind is in, how indifferent you are to the culture you're a part of, the implications of your beliefs and your acceptances, and it churns my stomach and makes me sick.

And then you have the audacity to point your finger at me. You criticize and laugh at me for breaking away, you taunt and tease me for being offended and infuriated by your off hand remarks and "jokes." Fuck, are you kidding me? Thank whatever higher being there is that I am nothing like you. I don't know what caused my path to turn away from yours - they were parallel for so long. But fuck. I can't imagine being like you because then I'd hate myself just as much as I hate you.

Fuck you. You're 20, 21, 25 - where are your heads? Why can't you see how fucking fucked up you are? Goddamn. I don't need this in my life. I don't need you in my life. Any of you. You bring me nothing but anger, despair, and bitterness, infecting me, and only further causing me to be a cynical asshole.

Fuck you, I don't need you in my life. I don't need this.

I'm leaving.

I'm gone.

I Am Done With This Summer

I am done with this summer, I am done with this heat. I am done with stepping outside my door and choking on the humidity. It only makes me feel bitter and disgusted and indolent.

I am done with this summer, I am ready for the fall. I am ready for the boots and the scarves, the hot chocolates and the teas, the colorful leaves and the bristly winds. I am ready for the falling rain to come and wash away this disturbed, depressed, discomforted feeling I cannot shake, to come and make me new. I become alive with the cold and I am ready for it to stir me from this waking dream, which has become more and more of a nightmare.

I am done with this summer, I am anxiously awaiting the change. For the colors to fill the trees, for the clouds to fill the skies, for the cold season's joy to fill my heart.

I am done with this summer.

Feelings

A sudden, overwhelming sense of suffocation.
I think I'll just go to bed and read until I regain control, or until I fall asleep.

Feelings are fickle things.

Temper Tantrum

It's ridiculous, the things I worry about, consider, and notice. I'm too attentive, but it's only understandably and reasonably so. I feel like banging my fists, stomping my feet, and throwing a temper tantrum - it's not fair it's not fair it's not fair.


"How glorious it is - and also how painful - to be an exception." - Alfred de Musset

Stressed

My good God, I don't remember the last time I was this stressed. Granted, it is partially my fault. I know exactly what I do to myself when I procrastinate, but this past week just decided to throw some curve balls with several extenuating circumstances. And I'm back to not being able to sleep, so that's really not helping in the least bit (if you could imagine such a thought).

I'm so emotionally drained.
This week needs to be over.
I need to be able to sleep and surround myself with those amazing people that I've been blessed with.

But I know that when I get home I still won't be sleeping and I'll just want to be alone.

asdjkflcldhfk.

Fifteen Days

Thanksgiving Break: what a tease. Just as I start to relax, it's time to get back to work, but it's hard to get back into the swing of things. I have so much work to do before finals in two weeks, but I haven't done a single thing this whole day. Why? I'm not quite sure. I've been sleeping a lot. And I just don't feel like doing it. Maybe I'm just lazy. But I think I'm just tired. Perpetually tired. And not just physically, but mentally as well. It's definitely time for Winter Break.

15 days to go.