There’s so much that I’ve learned in my life, yet there is so much that I still have to learn.
But that’s just the beauty of life: the fact that it is a long winding road that never stops. That even when there is an alleged stop to it - something we refer to as “death” - uncertainty still has yet to leave our souls. But I’ve learned to embrace such ambiguities and turn them into something of high-anticipation rather than absolute dread. This is everything that I hope that a friend will see and be able to understand. That a family member will recognize and be able to remember me by. That a stranger will be able to take a glance at, and feel like they aren’t totally alone, even in their darkest moments. And so these are my life lessons that I leave here for you. That I especially hope to add to my ongoing list of meds-ups, for the future is , FOR SURE, planning to dump a hell-a-lot more onto me: I’ve never quite told anyone this, but this is the secret that goes untold because people are afraid of something - someone - from their past, resurfacing, coming to exact their revenge on them. So, not too long ago, I had this reunion at an old elementary school of mine. Whilst it was an allegedly “happy” moment in time - at least it should have been - the only thing that I felt was sheer dread. I mean, I know that I have so many happy memories from that place because I met people that I will know for a life-time. But I also have terrible memories like being a suck-up because I wanted to be admired, an imposter because I wanted to be someone else that I envied, a liar because I wanted people to like me, and a tattle-tale because I couldn’t handle any concept of “playfulness” or jokes for that matter. Actually, I grew up with this memory of everyone in that school absolutely hating me, which may or may not have been true, but it’s funny: the way the mind can trick you into remembering things that never actually happened or that were never actually said. But even so: I still have this immense fear that , THAT specific past will climb up to bite me in the ass at some point in time when I least expect it. And despite the fact that I’ve grown older - I mean I’m supposed to be wiser but I’m really not - that I’ve matured, that I’ve GROWN to see reality for what it is: I still see reality as something that is a fantasy. And it is because I see reality as a fantasy, that I haven’t been able to let go of those things. Maybe you haven’t been able to let go of them too. But that’s okay, because the day that you are able to let go of everything you’ve held onto, is the day that you are ready to truly accept and acknowledge reality for what it is. Because right now - right at this very moment - the only thing you’ve done is throw your book into a dark well, telling people you’d lost it, even though you purposely put it somewhere that is hard to reach. I’m so ready to open this book and be done. So here is my introduction: Hi, my name is Bella, I am 19 years old and I am so messed up. I am so, so, so messed up in a MULTITUDE of ways. But that entire mess - all of it - is something that I want to preserve for all of time. So that I know, I know that this IS me and that I don’t need to run away from me, from what I’ve done, or from who I was. But I also want to talk to you. And I trust you to be honest with me, as I try to be honest with you: It’s not easy growing up. I suppose that’s a given, even though you might think to yourself that people are crazy for telling you that “things will work out eventually!” See: it’s so easy for you to try to be the pessimist. I bet you were expecting me to say it’s easy to be the “optimist,” but we tend to so easily fall into this vicious cycle of nit-picking ourselves, and shaving ourselves DRY. I mean, look at you: every time someone complements you, despite your efforts to appear as though you’ve accepted it, you still manage to fall short. So much so, that people can see through your mask. You only wear that mask so they can’t READ your face, which shows an obvious disconnect between you and them. Their mouths are moving - spilling out sweet words - but it’s lost in translation. Yeah: you tried getting through highschool with that mask, because you definitely took enough time losing people by showing your “true colors” in elementary and middle school. Yet: you were the most authentic you’d ever been, before highschool. You were even , more so, authentic in elementary school because you put your emotions on full display. But sensitivity, also, didn’t translate well during that period in time. It made you seem unapproachable. Not admirable. And you wanted to be liked, right? Laughing at things that you didn’t understand. Pretending to know about what you didn’t know to appear “cool.” Making fun of people that you didn’t know because everyone else was hopping onto that bandwagon - so why shouldn’t you? But as a child - even though as an adult you might not think so - you took in more damage than you might have realized. Innocence, a child’s innocence, is a term coined by society as a period in time in which children live out their fantasies with happiness and splendor. But what society doesn’t realize is that children are capable of feeling more than they let on. Of thinking more than they appear to do. “ Pain greeted you at an early age. You just didn’t know what to call it at the time. “ Your an adult now though, and all that SHOULD be in the past. But it’s not. I wish I could talk to you in the way I’m writing to you now, and give you a map to get to where you are today. Or some sort of “cheat” so you don’t have to deal with all the hard shit. Unfortunately: that isn’t how life works. Actually life never really “works.” it just “works out.” Saying that “life eventually works out” is something that we, as people, don’t value enough. Instead we view it - with annoyance - as an “optimist’s margarita.” But it’s actually the medicine that, despite its foul taste, did something magical to us in the end. And so: yes, yes, yes you are a mess. But not ALL the mess is bad, for as you start to untie the knots of the life you’ve created: you are finding that there are many ways for you to achieve your end goal, which is just the satisfaction of an undone knot. So as your calloused fingers touch this untouched knot that you have stored somewhere you didn’t want to reach, I hope you start to appreciate it more than you did, and more than you learned to. Did you ever really take the time to know yourself? Because I feel like you’ve only worked to know an enemy for what it is, rather than what it could be: a friend. A friend would know you as such,l: Like I know that you struggle to accept beauty as something that is legitimate. Because in your mind you keep hearing the word “subjectivity,” and translating it as an insult rather than a complement. I know that you haven’t been able to let go, at all, and that you still hold onto grudges against people that have hurt you. Though you also worry that those people hold a grudge against you, because you have hurt them too. I know that there are distinctive memories that appear, every blue moon, reminding you of everything you hate and everything you mustn’t do in the future. Like the idea that you failed a friend, not being able to counsel them through their hard time. Or that you’ve failed a parent by being a grouchy and selfish teenager. Even if I told you that you’ve come so far, from who you were, I know that your pessimist-hermit is only hiding in an optimist shell. I know you feel bad for being negligent of the people you love, and that they think you’ve forgotten them due to your ignorance. You know that an apology will never be enough for months worth of silence - years worth of silence. But you still do it, hoping you rebuild, until you’ve been buried into your work again and forget who is on the outside. You still worry that you aren’t funny enough or quirky enough for people to like you. That your awkwardness, rather than bringing people together, has only caused a rift in your precious relationship. And I know you still think you aren’t enough. But one day you will be enough, not for other people, but for you. And it’s not about impressing the world with your growth, but it’s about disappointing the world with your failure. Recognizing where you have failed. But reaping the benefits of your triumphant return, isn’t something to be taken lightly. Because it’s an honor being in a state of mind where you are willing to be transparent. And one day you’ll reach that stage, even if that isn’t today. - Bella
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There’s something about long and open roads that make you feel like you are an actress in a movie. Especially during the scenes where they pan the camera and do a close up on the actresses face who seemed to be in a dazed state of mind, daydreaming about their life and what’s it has come to.
Ever since moving to Wylie, I find myself taking on the stance of an actresses as I endeavor upon the long and open roads, with vast spaces of land that seem to never end. In my new home I find that I am really embodying an isolationist state of mind, where I absorb the comfort provided when no one is around to me. I go on those long walks, just like the actress, with these big and bulky headphones covering my ears and blocking my last connection to the rest of the world. It’s a very peaceful feeling when you have no expectations to fulfill, no people to please or put an act up for, where your only goal in mind is to find your way back home. Sometimes as I am lost in my own headspace: I forget my way back home. In the same sense, I forget where I am, what I was doing, how I got here, why I feel the emotions I’m currently feeling . . . Cationic. But other times I find that I have these sudden bursts of sadness, and anger. As if I’m fed up with the world, because I’ve been done wrong far too many times to count and far too many times that I am willing to put up with anymore. So I say to myself “I wish I could disappear like the breeze,” but in a manner where I’d still be acknowledge as a single presence without a body on Earth. And then I am overcome with loneliness, because I then realize that I’ve only been conversing with my own conscience the entire walk back. I think long and winding roads have that effect on a lot of people: forcing them to speak to the one person they refuse to speak to, because they’ve lost trust in them. Themselves that is. As a self-proclaimed introvert, I didn’t expect quarantine to impact me as much as it truly did.
At SMU, one of my biggest regrets was locking myself in my dorm - literally every single day - and refusing to talk to anyone until all my work was complete. And even on the days where I would give myself a “break,” I would still refrain from leaving the comfort of my dorm room out of sheer laziness, and the anxiety of having to talk to people in the hallway. I practically avoided every chance I got to live a normal life, because I was so afraid of dressing up and having to stage a front so that I could manage having a regular conversation with my friends. That was until the last week before school let out for spring break, and the potential end of our entire schooling year due to COVID-19. That week, alone, managed to erase a whole years worth of discomfort, because I finally learned to live a little. To have a life. And then I suddenly didn’t hate where I was. I didn’t harbor any hostile feelings for being in a university where I didn’t feel comfortable. I gave it a try, and managed to enjoy, in fact LOVE, where I was. And then all of it disappeared in an instant, once learning the University would be closing, as would the entire state due to the spread of COVID-19. My reaction? I wasn’t scared, in fact I was happy to learn that I would need to try anymore to go out of my comfort zone. And then I actually quarantined, which made me realize that feelings of “comfort” didn’t mean I was happy in the situation I was in. I was actually miserable, and reading the news, looking through social media . . . I learned many others were too. COVID-19 was the double-agent for those who suffered with mental health: masking itself as a sign of comfort, whilst really tearing at the already broken pieces that infested our minds. I remember, being younger, the only thing that was on my mind was what time dinner was going to be.
Coming from families well-versed in the art of cooking, I always had this little light-bulb in my small stomach that would light up whenever it was time to eat. At the time, my innocent mind had not yet been corrupted by the images of tiny stomachs on social media, or the obsession with models and their slim waists, for the only thing that I truly cared about was that, by the end of the night, my stomach felt full, felt whole. But of course puberty changed all that, though I found myself "glowing-up" rather than keeping the same chubbiness that I had, and my unnerved desire for good food. I became the very definition of obsessed entering middle-school, because I had started developing this construct in my mind, this vision, of someone that I needed to look at without regards as to whether or not I could actually become that person. Well, no through healthy means anyways, but I always told myself that I would have to go through the hardest in order to amount to the top. On top of that, I struggled with my own confidence in my schooling environment where the popular were defined with expressive personalities, and obviously likable traits, but also by slim composition and pretty faces. I regret to say that I also fell victim to the stereotype, viewing people only for their bodies and refusing to acknowledge the beauty on the inside that vibrated and counted for far greater than any exterior ever could. . . I wanted to know one thing, and one thing only: How can I be like them? Eighteen years-old, now, I've gone through so much and have come a long LONG way with growing into my body. I mean, even now, I am not entirely happy with the way my own body looks, because every time I look in the mirror I still see the rolls, I see the little belly peaking out, I see the stretch marks. But this time is different. Because this time I don't hate myself for them. I've learned to acknowledge that these marks that show on my body, everything that juts out isn't something to be ashamed of. It's just a process of growing, a normal, and healthy process of growing that isn't predefined by these standards we've created for ourselves, or these BMI ranges we are compelled to stay within. It's just you, it's just who you are and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that until you find a reason for there something to be wrong. I don't know why society, or maybe "some people" within society have created sets of classifications that a person MUST, just HAS TO fall within. Why can't a girl be beautiful but have stretch marks, flab, and a belly? Likewise, why can't a girl be naturally thin, not necessarily have the biggest butt, nor the biggest boobs and be beautiful? I'm sorry, but I don't remember there being a rule book called " The steps to becoming beautiful," I mean who created this silly ideal? So it all comes back to balance, because being healthy is all about being balanced. But that doesn't mean you won't have your off days, your cheat days where you tip the scale another way, or your bloated days where everything feels distorted. Thats the process of growing, and you have to keep in mind that as much as you are changing: so is your body. With that being said, I think many people also struggle with managing what is temporary and what is permanent. For instance, my body structure - the way my body is built - so how broad my shoulders are, my arm span, my height: that's all permanent, things that I cannot change no matter how hard I try. But how I feel, the pain in my stomach, the fear from being around food. . . those are things that are only temporary. We struggle so much to change our physical appearance, and I'm referring to the permanent things like the way the body is structured, that we completely disregard something that could garner us the growth we need for the future, which is changing the temporary. I feel like it's time to start living my life off of the temporary, rather than obsessing over the permanent. *Disclaimer: My grammar here is REALLY bad, because I decided to write this as a "Journal Entry" on a 15 minute timer. *
So I called this post "Day One of Living" because I wanted to begin my blog from a place that feels like a good starting point. Yesterday I had finished my last exam of the semester, and even those this is only my first year of college, it still feels so surreal to say that it is over. As I think to my time as someone who has had a rather poor school rep, rehashing back to my high school years, I truly am beginning to see how much I have grown from my past. I think that many times, speaking from my own experience, when we look to the past, we think of it as something we need to forget. We think of it as a time that was traumatizing, or shameful to look at because there were so many bad memories or moments that we would rather forget than to hold on to. I know this, because I am that person who wants to leave what's happened to the history books instead of something that could possibly be held against me, since if its in the past then there is no harm that could be further done to me. But I'm done running. I am absolutely done feeling sad, feeling like I need to run away from the past, disregard it, ignore it. . . I'm just done. To leave something behind doesn't mean that thing is ever gone, just like how pushing an emotion or feeling to the farthest point in your mind doesn't mean it won't ever resurface again. I think the reason why I did that was because I was trying to manipulate myself into believing that the past never existed in the first place, so every time an old memory would resurface, I could save myself from remembering the pain of it all. But the moment I decided to face who I was, not demean her, not try to forget her even, no, just to FACE her, then I began appreciating the growth that is life so much more. The best example I can give of this was how scared I was of telling people about my "mental breaks" in the past. There were times when I would act like a "cheerleader," or someone who cheers everyone on but acts completely different when they are alone. The bubbly person I had made me look like an actress in a show, waiting for her big break. So I would have such "breaks" in real life - collapsing on the floor, crying in a hall full of people because of panic attacks, my head ticking from side to side, my arms shaking - because I was so scared of revealing the way my mind was. When I was first diagnosed with depression in sophomore year, all these big breaks began to make sense to me, but I only hindered my growth by trying to escape from that person I was. So I became a "social activist" advocating for optimism, always encouraging people to look towards the bright side. What I realized though was that this was a very narrow-sided view of what life was: this idea that life should only be looking towards the bright side and never allowing yourself to get caught up in the moments of sadness or pessimism. For me to advocate this sort of mindset to people, personally, I don't think there is anything wrong with it. But, again, life isn't about the good only, for it is also about the bad moments: when life totally sucks, when it feels like a kick in the ass, when its just not doing you any justice. . . and you don't need to earn or garner the permission to express how you truly feel. I don't ask people permission to feel happy, so why should I ask permission to feel sad? My point is to own your own emotions in whatever shape, or form that they come, but don't feel like you need to restrict in order to serve society. Living at SMU showed me a lot more about myself than did staying at home during COVID-19 where we are confined to only those that are comfortable to us, such as our family members. I mean, I was truly an independent being at SMU: living my own life without parental supervision, getting my own food, having to manage my own "schedule". Everything is something you do "on your own," but that's how life is going to be eventually when I am living in my own house, and having to work a job to maintain my life style. People aren't going to be around you to give you instructions to follow, so you have to "make it up" along the way. But that's okay, because that is how you learn, and in the long-run you make for someone who embodies the very pennants of resilience and responsibility. You might not be perfect, but life is an imperfectness where we must make due with what we have just to make our way of living sustainable. With that being said, I would say that my life at SMU wasn't exactly sustainable because I mixed the two states of being content and comfortable. I was comfortable, but I was never content with staying by myself in the dorm, studying 24/7 without any interaction from living human-beings, or infesting my livelihood with my academic performance. As an introvert, I tricked myself into believing that how I felt was content, but I never was! Instead, I was comfortable being that way, but once you asked me the question "Are you happy?" my answer would be no - I am not in the slightest bit. I was miserable. I felt lonely. That was until my last week at SMU when I finally allowed myself to BREATHE and have a life. I enjoyed Holi with my friends, I studies at Fondren with even more friends until 1 A.M, we went out to go get ramen from this AMAZING place on campus. I had finally found my place of comfort - my balance - and I was enjoying every moment of it. Then COVID-19 hit and SMU was forced, like every other campus, to close its doors to students. Confinement at home made me realize how much I should have valued my life instead of prioritizing my academics, for life is not made to travel only one path - there are many multiple paths that factor into our "destination" and you are certainly going to have a to take a few detours here and there. Being at home, I reverted into the same person that I was at SMU, except this time I couldn't see any friends, or have the option to go out, so I reverted back to my "comfortable" shell. But I don't want to live my life this way anymore, falling back into my old "comfortable" habits. I want to find something new, and try to find an adaptable way of living that is sustainable through BALANCE. So that's why I am titling this blog "Day One of Living," because now that I am officially done with my freshman year, I can do just that: Live. This blog will definitely contain descriptions of some of the greatest moments of my life.
But this blog will also contain some of the worst moments in my life. To say that I don't feel like I am living the worst of moment of my life right now, well - I would be lying to say something like that. One of the first steps to growth, no matter who you are, is admitting where you stand now, and how you currently feel. For me, I use the following descriptions: Depressed. Worn Out. Done. Fed-Up. Hysterical. Tired. I can't sit here and pretend to be an optimist when I truthfully, am in a pessimistic state of mind. But what matters is the fact that I am willing to change that, and if you notice in the title: I gave myself the time frame of - A. Single. MONTH. Setting a time frame for yourself doesn't have to be set in stone, but having a tangible goal - like a month for me - gives you a check point where you can evaluate your progress and/or overall growth. I mean, a month for me could be either a days worth, a weeks worth, or a years worth for you, because everyone has different goals attributed to themselves. With that being said, it is important to note that you shouldn't have to work on another person's or even society's time frame for you. To each their own, every person grows in their own unique way for the main goal should be that you are working on YOU and NOT for the sake of others. Honestly, that's a factor I always struggled with: This idea that my growth impacts those around me, which isn't false, but in the sense that I should set aside my own health to suit the needs of those around me. Having that mindset led me to invest the wrong energy or provide unwarranted help to people that was more counterintuitive than helpful. But, once you find that you are in a place where you can give your time to others in a positive and productive manner, well, it makes a world's worth of a difference. Investing time into your current state of mind, is another factor we all tend to ignore. We try our very hardest to ignore how we feel in the present, because we know that there are better things ahead of us for the future. But we also tend to "skip a few blocks ahead" and take on more than we initially bargained for by purposefully neglecting what happening in our lives now. For me, I am looking to transfer to UT from SMU and all I've been thinking about is how much better my life will be once I am able to make that transition. Whilst doing that, I've notice that I am, in a way, pushing aside my responsibilities, and almost forgetting the fact that I still am a student at SMU, and might very well STILL be a student in the event that I don't get into UT. There was a time in my life where I spent my energy speaking of my time away from SMU as if my life will suddenly make a complete 180 and turn right-side up just because I am in a completely new environment . . . But whose to say that is so wrong? Bringing up another point that a friend had to remind me of: You are allowed to want something. I’ve denied myself my right to voice my own concern and distress, because I feel selfish and I grateful. What I am actually afraid of is how other people will see me, that THEY will think I am selfish and ungrateful. The important takeaway from this is that just because you are in an environment that is “good,” doesn’t mean that it HAS to be good for you. I personally feel like SMU hasn’t been a good fit for me, and I think I would fare better in a public school. At the same time, I’ve worked so hard to be where I am, and am not going to settle for less just because of my own worries about how everyone will see me. I couldn’t think of a reasonable conclusion to all of this, but this is my little update as of May 1st, that I hope will improve: Right now I feel so pessimistic of the future, because I’ve refused a couple of poor grades on my tests. My admission to UT seemingly grows smaller every passing day, and I have this sense of dread for if I am not able to get into my dream school. I have one more week to raise my grades and finalize my transcript for the decision. Whether or not that transfer happens, I know that I am going to be fine in the end. My life won’t stop for a brick wall. So why should I? Have you ever felt like you aren’t in control of your own legs? Like they, for some reason, always lead you the wrong way and no matter how hard you try to restrain them from walking that way, they just won’t stop? Or maybe it was your mind that felt lost. Wandering from one person to the next whilst contemplating, contemplating “What are they about to say next?” Even your ears, listening for something that seems out of the ordinary, “ Oh she’s definitely *whisper* “
As the indecipherable noises crowd the inner workings of my mind, I slowly lose track of who I’m meant to be. All senses of strength crumble to a single speck of dust, lost to the gentle breeze. Emotions and perceptions, where emotion make us perceive things that just aren’t true, and our insecurities come alive, forming masks on the people around us, disguising kind words with ones of condemnation. I, myself, am bearer of the masks of society, seeking out the villains in people and predicting when their next hit on me will be. For so long, I roamed the streets believing it was I who they were always speaking about: the small comments here and there, meant to pierce skin that’s been already worn down. But in reality, they were speaking of things they’d seen or heard in THEIR present - not mine - and I am forced to confront reality who says “ You feel so unconfident that you are making up words to fit the mouths of the people around you.” From time to time, we will let our insecurities speak and make judgements for us, without thinking twice as to whether or not we should question those judgements. I think, though, that is where we falter, and I am definitely victim to this sort of “vicious cycle” of never-ending thoughts. For me, it’s always been because I needed something tangible, in order to grasp on to something that seemed so surreal to me. Like a friend making a comment about my body being “beautiful,” or calling me a nice person. My first reaction is “Oh there’s no way they think that about me,” because I couldn’t fathom that I, truly, might be beautiful. Reaching the phase of acceptance is not an easy task, because we are so caught up in our own thoughts and self-critiques that we forget to, you know, smell the roses every once in a while. Instead of doing that, though, we resort to fight-or-flight by building our walls, already too tall, even higher or asserting everything to be fact. Or we become like a cat, once scared, we jump and cling to everything we can, our claws razor sharp. I know I’ve definitely experienced, and still experience, this phase of self-defense, making up my own conclusions about people I barely even know . . . But then you miss out on making friends with people that could have been some of the best. You miss out on learning from individuals that are some of the brightest. You miss out on appreciating the good, the kindness, the beauty of people. And then you regret it. You regret not getting to know a person sooner, because you felt like you needed to compete with them. You regret not having a relationship with a sibling or a cousin because you wanted to prove that you were the better one in the family. I can honestly say, as someone who is guilty of this mistake, that I regret it too and that this is not the type of life that I want to cultivate for myself. But how, Bella, do you come out of it? Once you hit the point in your life where you realize everything is completely subjective, such as beauty, then life doesn’t seem so bad anymore. That seems like such a bland answer, but there is so much to truth to it. You’ll learn that nothing is identical, and that every thing is unique and built to be looked upon as simply that: unique. We are not made for comparisons, for we are all made up of the same kind of good but a different kind of build, and the people that are meant to love us, and give us words of affirmation, are meant only for us. This toxic mentality, grind-culture, if you will, which doesn’t excuse itself from physical personas as much as it is toxic academic environments, is something we have to overcome all together. This could mean confronting your own insecurities with a head-on approach, and learning to work with who you already are, versus who you just have to be. Self-love certainly doesn’t come easy, but it’s worth taking a jab at. |
Bella (Author)
Hey guys, my name is Bella, and I am currently 18 years-old, pursuing a degree in Marketing at Southern Methodist University. This blog is dedicated to all my successes and failures ( for the latter tends to out weight the former ) and to making the most out of every impending disaster hurtled my way. ArchivesCategories |