I grew a bit, in 2015. Not physically, I've done a pretty good job of doing the opposite of that since my major weight loss a few winters ago. But I grew as a person, maybe even just slightly, but one that I find to be a noticeable change; a change which makes my day-to-day life just a little easier.
I suffer from FOMO. FOMO is short for "fear of missing out," a disease many, many of us in our teens and 20's share. Even adults suffer from FOMO to some degree, but it's said to be most prevalent at this age.
I've suffered from it for a while. It first started when I dropped out of high school, because you know what you do when you drop out of high school? Nothing. You do nothing. Aside from my well documented (via old blogs) attempts to do my schooling online, I failed miserably and gave up after less than a month. By that point, I was doing nothing every day. My routine consisted of sitting in front of my computer tweeting until about noon, when I'd eat lunch and then just play video games.
My FOMO continued to be horrendous for about a year and a half, until I started playing tennis half the week in Brampton in the winter. That got rid of a lot of my anxiety from FOMO, because I felt I was really doing something neat. A couple of hours of tennis 3-4 times a week in another city, and then when I'd come back home I'd take advantage and be able to see the few friends I had. It was really nice. Not only was I keeping busy, but I ended up losing all that weight I was talking about.
So I did that for a couple of years, and then I started college. This is when FOMO started to kick in hard again. People were partying, and I wasn't really into that scene. Friends were making new friends, so was I but it wasn't quite the same. I was really feeling the affects of dropping out, because a lot of people had these core groups of friends they'd get together with, and I couldn't really do that.
In second year of college my FOMO went away for the most part. I was kept extremely busy and I was doing some neat things for our college TV show, along with interning at Magic FM in Guelph (which was a great, great experience. I miss the amazing people there on a near-daily basis).
Anyways, fast forward to now. To the start of 2016. In 2015, I graduated, worked an amazing internship, and met so many amazing people who are huge parts of my life now, but what I really did was learn to ditch a decent amount of my FOMO. Do I still suffer from it many nights? Yes. But does it drive me insane on an almost nightly basis? No.
This year, especially recently, I've become much more comfortable with who I am, and just simply being. I've learned there's nothing wrong with staying home and reading a book, or playing some playstation while loudly playing Childish Gambino (he's great, you should listen to him. Start with Telegraph Ave). And I know these things sound insignificant, but they're not, at least to me. I always used to feel like I had to be out doing, and I sort of forgot about being. I'm trying harder now to enjoy the smaller things, like quiet nights in, surrounding myself with things I enjoy, maybe making myself appreciate the time I get to spend with people I enjoy that much more.
Of course, this is just a minor stepping stone, but it's an important one in helping myself feel more human. It's important in helping me feel like I don't need to do everything and see everyone in order to justify my existence. And there are still many things in which I need to improve upon. I still lack a considerable amount of confidence. I give up on things and believe they're over before they actually are. I push people away because I think they're eventually gonna leave me anyways, so I'd rather be the one to end it. I often feel like I'm living in a cycle of mistakes, and it gets tiring, but hopefully these "mistakes" will lead to growth.
So thank you to everyone who was a part of my life in 2015. It was a weird year that I can't quite put into words. I experienced losing a few close people, but I greatly made up for those lost in those whom I gained. I graduated, and then I immediately returned back to school, and I'm loving it and my classmates. They're amazing. I discovered new music of many different genres, I attempted to play soccer in a league, I finally found a gym that doesn't make me hate myself. I biked 1'100 kilometres in four months, and played baseball on 2 different teams. My best friend came home after being away for 2 years, and I discovered Kanye's 808s & Heartbreak, which is honestly the greatest album ever.
So here's to 2016, and the the things I know it'll bring, such as my first trip to Florida, running my first half marathon (maybe even full if I'm lucky), or seeing the Sheepdogs; and here's to the many things which I don't know that it'll bring.
*Sidenote* I just wanted to quickly acknowledge my great great aunt Helen, who passed away early this morning. She was an incredibly strong and stubborn individual, whose life had a great ripple affect through my family, all the way down to myself today. I'll never forget when I visited her a few weeks ago, my grandpa joked to her about her view from her bed, saying that "all she needed was a few men outside her window now," to which she responded "I don't think I'd have any suitors in my current state." She never lost her wit or sense of humour, and neither should any of us, ever. RIP Aunt Helen, hopefully God has enough cats and chocolate for you up there.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Here We Go Again
I've been really tired lately. I've also been getting a lot of headaches. I'm procrastinating everything. The newness of a new adventure has warn off.
I don't know when it started. I don't know when days started dragging like they've been, but it's been happening fairly consistently for a while now. Get up, go to school, maybe pay attention, depending on my interest level; come home, not do that thing I'm supposed to do, feel like crap for not doing that thing I'm supposed to do; repeat.
Advertising has been great. Don't get me wrong. I am IN LOVE with making ads. I stopped feeling accomplished last year in the Broadcast Journalism, no matter how good I'd do on a TV piece, and now I'm finally feeling a sense of accomplishment again. And my class is fucking amazing. I say "fucking" amazing, because it adds emphasis to how ****** amazing they really are. One thing I missed in my other program, that we have here, is that the class feels like one big supportive family. That's what I wanted so badly when I started college, and I'm so happy to finally have that now.
But there are tough aspects too. I really dislike the marketing portion of what we do. Even though I'm doing okay, grades-wise, I really really dislike it, and in turn have trouble forcing myself to just do the work. I'm also having trouble picking up some of the technical work, especially in Photoshop, and because of that I feel as though I have this big, scary box surrounding me and my creativity, and I feel that weighing me down immensely.
I'm also having trouble balancing school and work, I think. I'm not sure, because I feel as though it may just be an excuse, considering that I only have about 18 hours of class per week, and only end up working 12-15 hours a week.
I miss biking every day. I miss exercising daily, and getting out and enjoying nature. I feel like I just watch myself live. I feel like I'm watching myself from some weird "ghost of Christmas past" perspective, and I see myself. I see myself getting lunch. I see myself going to Starbucks to work on something. I see myself interacting with people, but I feel like I'm very rarely actually involved on a personal and emotional level with these interactions. The beauty about biking, the beauty of all those km's i've done since May, is that I was fully awake, fully in-tune for all of them. I experienced and felt every tire rotation, every turn, every bump, every drop of sweat. I heard every beat, every lyric in my headphones blasting. I felt myself living.
It's just hard, and tiring feeling like every day is the same. It's hard feeling like you're dragging yourself around. Maybe I need to start going to yoga again, to make my muscles feel better. Maybe I need to start doing that triathlon training like I had planned to all along. But I feel like there are more than just physical things I can be doing for myself, I just don't know what they are.
I want to feel at one with myself. I want to feel comfortable when I walk down a hallway, or make eye contact with someone. I don't want to feel like a guy just working his ass off to finish today, only to be able to work his ass off to finish tomorrow.
It's weird, because I swear to god I do genuinely enjoy the act of being a living, breathing human. I love taking in life. I like walking down the street and looking at all of the colours of the world. I like driving when it's sunny, but the sun isn't directly in your eyes. I like making eye contact with people and feeling their gaze; feeling their emotions go straight into your eyes. I like learning new things, and meeting new people. I like trying new things, and being good at others. But sometimes, it's all just really tough. Sometimes, I feel like I'm the only one carrying this emotional weight, even though I know that's not true.
We all do, to one degree or another. We all feel uncertain, we all feel inadequate and shitty and not good enough. It's just a part of life. But it's also a part of life to try and search to remove those feelings and gain a sense of relativity; to gain a sense of importance and control and meaning. I know it won't happen over night, and I know there isn't one person, or one thing that will suddenly give me that. It's a process, a process of learning and growing and accepting. Shutting out certain things, while opening up to other things.
It's a process I'm still very much a part of. One I'm sure I always will be.
I don't know when it started. I don't know when days started dragging like they've been, but it's been happening fairly consistently for a while now. Get up, go to school, maybe pay attention, depending on my interest level; come home, not do that thing I'm supposed to do, feel like crap for not doing that thing I'm supposed to do; repeat.
Advertising has been great. Don't get me wrong. I am IN LOVE with making ads. I stopped feeling accomplished last year in the Broadcast Journalism, no matter how good I'd do on a TV piece, and now I'm finally feeling a sense of accomplishment again. And my class is fucking amazing. I say "fucking" amazing, because it adds emphasis to how ****** amazing they really are. One thing I missed in my other program, that we have here, is that the class feels like one big supportive family. That's what I wanted so badly when I started college, and I'm so happy to finally have that now.
But there are tough aspects too. I really dislike the marketing portion of what we do. Even though I'm doing okay, grades-wise, I really really dislike it, and in turn have trouble forcing myself to just do the work. I'm also having trouble picking up some of the technical work, especially in Photoshop, and because of that I feel as though I have this big, scary box surrounding me and my creativity, and I feel that weighing me down immensely.
I'm also having trouble balancing school and work, I think. I'm not sure, because I feel as though it may just be an excuse, considering that I only have about 18 hours of class per week, and only end up working 12-15 hours a week.
I miss biking every day. I miss exercising daily, and getting out and enjoying nature. I feel like I just watch myself live. I feel like I'm watching myself from some weird "ghost of Christmas past" perspective, and I see myself. I see myself getting lunch. I see myself going to Starbucks to work on something. I see myself interacting with people, but I feel like I'm very rarely actually involved on a personal and emotional level with these interactions. The beauty about biking, the beauty of all those km's i've done since May, is that I was fully awake, fully in-tune for all of them. I experienced and felt every tire rotation, every turn, every bump, every drop of sweat. I heard every beat, every lyric in my headphones blasting. I felt myself living.
It's just hard, and tiring feeling like every day is the same. It's hard feeling like you're dragging yourself around. Maybe I need to start going to yoga again, to make my muscles feel better. Maybe I need to start doing that triathlon training like I had planned to all along. But I feel like there are more than just physical things I can be doing for myself, I just don't know what they are.
I want to feel at one with myself. I want to feel comfortable when I walk down a hallway, or make eye contact with someone. I don't want to feel like a guy just working his ass off to finish today, only to be able to work his ass off to finish tomorrow.
It's weird, because I swear to god I do genuinely enjoy the act of being a living, breathing human. I love taking in life. I like walking down the street and looking at all of the colours of the world. I like driving when it's sunny, but the sun isn't directly in your eyes. I like making eye contact with people and feeling their gaze; feeling their emotions go straight into your eyes. I like learning new things, and meeting new people. I like trying new things, and being good at others. But sometimes, it's all just really tough. Sometimes, I feel like I'm the only one carrying this emotional weight, even though I know that's not true.
We all do, to one degree or another. We all feel uncertain, we all feel inadequate and shitty and not good enough. It's just a part of life. But it's also a part of life to try and search to remove those feelings and gain a sense of relativity; to gain a sense of importance and control and meaning. I know it won't happen over night, and I know there isn't one person, or one thing that will suddenly give me that. It's a process, a process of learning and growing and accepting. Shutting out certain things, while opening up to other things.
It's a process I'm still very much a part of. One I'm sure I always will be.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
I'm Back?
I haven't blogged in a while.
I feel like I start every blog with that.
I really mean it this time though. It's been what? a year and a half? Where does the time go? Last time I was sitting here typing I was still recovering from a broken ankle that happened two months prior.
I really don't know why I'm doing it either, which I guess is sort of why I'm doing it. I feel like I've been in the same place for a really long time, and I've just been waiting to break out, and it hasn't happened.
I constantly have an excuse not to blog. My allergies are acting up. I'm hungry. I think I'm gonna have to pee in 15-20 minutes. There's always something.
So how do I explain how I'm feeling? Well, I feel like I'm really bad at controlling how I feel, and it sucks. I'm really bad at just saying to myself "hey, this isn't that big of a deal, seriously, stop feeling this way." Don't get me wrong, I try. I try and I try and I try and I try, and it just doesn't happen. With it, my number of existential crisis' have increased drastically. That's shitty, because I feel like I should be able to stop it from happening. Like, I shouldn't get home and suddenly be hit with this feeling of doubt over everything in my life.
I also have a lot of doubt. A LOT. I doubt that people have good reason to like me. I doubt that they actually like me and instead just tolerate me. I doubt that someone could know this person inside, who has all this existential questioning, who has all this self-doubt, and could actually like me. Then I find people who do, and I think they must be crazy, so I push. I become emotionally abusive. I lay it all out there. I tell them off when they aren't 100% committed to helping me understand. I'm too hard on them. I'm too hard on myself.
It's been a really interesting summer too, because I feel like I learned a lot. There's a saying on Mad Men that goes "People tell us who they are, but we ignore it, because we want them to be who we want them to be." I ignored things, for a while with people. I ignored warning signs, my gut, everything. And every time I have ignored what people have shown me, it's come back to bite me. Ultimately, I'm forced to see the real them, and it sucks.
I've also said things to people, or made decisions, that were simply out of anger or hurt, and that's never good either. When you're hurt, or you're angry, you don't think about consequence. Consequence is irrelevant because you feel this overwhelming, compulsive need to say that thing that you're thinking; to make your voice heard in a way which will punch people right in the gut.
I graduated from Broadcast Journalism in April. That's pretty cool. If you've been reading for a while, especially on some past sites I've had blogs on, you'll know just how crazy that concept is, at least for me. There was a time where the idea of being a college grad was so far out of the question that the mere thought of it was almost comical.
I'm also going back to college. This time for Advertising & Marketing. I'm excited, because it's a need program which combines both creativity and business. I'm also extremely excited to work with so many of the people in my class. They're amazingly talented, and it's intimidating but also so insanely exciting to think that I may be able to work with them, or learn from them.
I also biked this summer, A LOT. That was basically my summer. Biking, baseball, and existential crisis'. But seriously, I did a lot of biking. About 1'100km between May and September, actually. It was pretty neat, because I sort of just began tracking for fun, but then I set goals for myself sort of against my own will. I was worried if I set monthly distance goals I'd lose that passion for simply getting on the saddle and riding. Because that's really what it's all about. I often feel like I'm watching my life pass before my eyes, but for that hour and a half that I'm riding, I feel like I'm in complete control of my thoughts, my emotions, everything. So of course, I had to push myself a bit harder to bike on days that I didn't quite feel like it, but I did it, and I still enjoyed it, and it was so damn rewarding.
Anyways, I think that's about it. I solved approximately zero of my problems writing this, but I sort of missed it. A friend of mine also recently started blogging, and seeing her excitement about it sort of reminded me how exciting it is to post a blog, and have your own little forum.
So thank you all for reading. I promise, it won't be a year until the next one. And as usual, thank you for the continued support. Even if I don't tell you what you mean to me, you probably mean a lot to me. Some of you more than you think. And if I tell you how much you mean to me, and then I also get mad over the smallest things, and send you texts asking you to reaffirm that you don't hate me, it's just because you're really special to me. And I'm sorry for that too. I'm always sorry. I'm in a constant state of sorry, but I'm also in a constant state of gratitude for having you around. You have no idea.
Til' next time.
I feel like I start every blog with that.
I really mean it this time though. It's been what? a year and a half? Where does the time go? Last time I was sitting here typing I was still recovering from a broken ankle that happened two months prior.
I really don't know why I'm doing it either, which I guess is sort of why I'm doing it. I feel like I've been in the same place for a really long time, and I've just been waiting to break out, and it hasn't happened.
I constantly have an excuse not to blog. My allergies are acting up. I'm hungry. I think I'm gonna have to pee in 15-20 minutes. There's always something.
So how do I explain how I'm feeling? Well, I feel like I'm really bad at controlling how I feel, and it sucks. I'm really bad at just saying to myself "hey, this isn't that big of a deal, seriously, stop feeling this way." Don't get me wrong, I try. I try and I try and I try and I try, and it just doesn't happen. With it, my number of existential crisis' have increased drastically. That's shitty, because I feel like I should be able to stop it from happening. Like, I shouldn't get home and suddenly be hit with this feeling of doubt over everything in my life.
I also have a lot of doubt. A LOT. I doubt that people have good reason to like me. I doubt that they actually like me and instead just tolerate me. I doubt that someone could know this person inside, who has all this existential questioning, who has all this self-doubt, and could actually like me. Then I find people who do, and I think they must be crazy, so I push. I become emotionally abusive. I lay it all out there. I tell them off when they aren't 100% committed to helping me understand. I'm too hard on them. I'm too hard on myself.
It's been a really interesting summer too, because I feel like I learned a lot. There's a saying on Mad Men that goes "People tell us who they are, but we ignore it, because we want them to be who we want them to be." I ignored things, for a while with people. I ignored warning signs, my gut, everything. And every time I have ignored what people have shown me, it's come back to bite me. Ultimately, I'm forced to see the real them, and it sucks.
I've also said things to people, or made decisions, that were simply out of anger or hurt, and that's never good either. When you're hurt, or you're angry, you don't think about consequence. Consequence is irrelevant because you feel this overwhelming, compulsive need to say that thing that you're thinking; to make your voice heard in a way which will punch people right in the gut.
I graduated from Broadcast Journalism in April. That's pretty cool. If you've been reading for a while, especially on some past sites I've had blogs on, you'll know just how crazy that concept is, at least for me. There was a time where the idea of being a college grad was so far out of the question that the mere thought of it was almost comical.
I'm also going back to college. This time for Advertising & Marketing. I'm excited, because it's a need program which combines both creativity and business. I'm also extremely excited to work with so many of the people in my class. They're amazingly talented, and it's intimidating but also so insanely exciting to think that I may be able to work with them, or learn from them.
I also biked this summer, A LOT. That was basically my summer. Biking, baseball, and existential crisis'. But seriously, I did a lot of biking. About 1'100km between May and September, actually. It was pretty neat, because I sort of just began tracking for fun, but then I set goals for myself sort of against my own will. I was worried if I set monthly distance goals I'd lose that passion for simply getting on the saddle and riding. Because that's really what it's all about. I often feel like I'm watching my life pass before my eyes, but for that hour and a half that I'm riding, I feel like I'm in complete control of my thoughts, my emotions, everything. So of course, I had to push myself a bit harder to bike on days that I didn't quite feel like it, but I did it, and I still enjoyed it, and it was so damn rewarding.
Anyways, I think that's about it. I solved approximately zero of my problems writing this, but I sort of missed it. A friend of mine also recently started blogging, and seeing her excitement about it sort of reminded me how exciting it is to post a blog, and have your own little forum.
So thank you all for reading. I promise, it won't be a year until the next one. And as usual, thank you for the continued support. Even if I don't tell you what you mean to me, you probably mean a lot to me. Some of you more than you think. And if I tell you how much you mean to me, and then I also get mad over the smallest things, and send you texts asking you to reaffirm that you don't hate me, it's just because you're really special to me. And I'm sorry for that too. I'm always sorry. I'm in a constant state of sorry, but I'm also in a constant state of gratitude for having you around. You have no idea.
Til' next time.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
I Fear
The following are things that I fear on a daily basis. Not things such as barfing, or clowns, or things flying around my head. This isn't about my absolute fear of being trapped in a butterfly conservatory with a bunch of barfing children and having clowns as tour guides. These are completely different fears, and if my last sentence didn't scare you off, and you choose to keep reading, you'll see what I mean. I think they're regular fears we've all had and continue to sometimes battle; I'm just in the mood to voice them.
I fear change. For someone who likes the thrill of the hunt, and likes experiencing new things, I really hate any change to the life that I know & live on a daily basis. I take it personally when someone moves a piece of furniture. I fear building a really great life around me, and suddenly having it stripped away.
I fear losing friends. I have some really, really awesome friends. I say "really, really awesome" because I honestly have no idea how to describe them any other way. Any attempt at describing them using sophisticated, yarn-spinning language wouldn't do justice, so i might as well just use really lame, mundane words, because at least they're absolute and true. But seriously, I have a really great group of friends who are some of the most amazing, down to earth, fun people I know. I fear losing that, because as you get older true friends become harder to find. I like surrounding myself with positive people; people who don't have an agenda.
I fear gaining weight. Now, this probably sounds like something most people fear, right? And of course it is. But I really do drive myself crazy sometimes fearing that I'll gain back all of the weight that I lost 2 years ago. The biggest difference isn't in new found confidence, but in how much better people treat you when you aren't overweight. I don't get weird looks in the gym. People hold doors for me now. I can go eat somewhere without condescending looks. And most importantly, random people talk to me, because they magically view you as a worthy, self-respecting person the second you aren't fat.
I fear my anxiety coming back. It came back. It came back in December after being gone for over 2 years. It's kept me from doing things in the past, and I fear it'll have the same effect in the future. I fight the anxiety demon regularly, and it's not as bad now as it was in December & January, but it still lingers. I went on a date with a girl to Tim Horton's a few weeks ago, and my anxiety took over the day before and made me feel very nervous, which made me not feel good. Not feeling good lead me to get even more anxious about possibly being sick, which nearly kept me from going on the date. Whilst on the date, I probably spent 75% of the time talking, because I felt if I didn't talk I was going to puke. We never went on a second date.
I fear not being cool enough. Cool is a really silly word. It's an elementary school word that has sort of hung around like a bad smell and is still a word in everyone's vocabularies today, aside from it being "cool outside." I don't know if anyone is truly cool, or what defines cool, but I guess I fear not being as interesting as other people. I fear that others are doing way more exciting things than I am. While I'm catching up on the latest episodes of Rick & Morty, I sort of just assume that everyone else is out having a beer with someone awesome, or just generally living an interesting life.
I fear not meeting a girl. Sounds mushy, is sort of mushy, so I won't spend too much time on it. But it's true though. I'm a 20 year-old guy who has spent the vast, vast majority of his life single. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing. I'd rather not be in a relationship than be in one with the wrong person, but at times it really does start to become a bummer. Being single can be fun and exciting, but there's nothing wrong with finding a really nice person who compliments your personality, and having them as a regular facet in your life.
I fear doing nothing/not being relevant. This sort of comes from the cool point, but I really do hate not doing anything. I did nothing for a whole year when I dropped out. Then I did nothing but tennis and sports and shit for two years, but at least I was doing something then. I just really hate feeling like I'm not contributing something either to the world or to myself. I could take a train to downtown Toronto with a few buddies, hang out downtown for the day, grab an amazing meal, then hit a pre-game festival and take in a game. I can train it back, and arrive around midnight. The second I sit down at 12:10am and realize that I'm not doing anything, I begin to feel that itch, despite the fact I just spent a day downtown enjoying life. The second I'm not doing something, I worry that means I'm not relevant, or not exciting. The second I'm not preoccupying my brain, I begin to try and think of ways to preoccupy my brain.
I fear a lot of things. These are really only a few prime examples I could think of at the moment, but they're major players in my everyday life and thoughts.
So let me ask, what do you fear?
I fear change. For someone who likes the thrill of the hunt, and likes experiencing new things, I really hate any change to the life that I know & live on a daily basis. I take it personally when someone moves a piece of furniture. I fear building a really great life around me, and suddenly having it stripped away.
I fear losing friends. I have some really, really awesome friends. I say "really, really awesome" because I honestly have no idea how to describe them any other way. Any attempt at describing them using sophisticated, yarn-spinning language wouldn't do justice, so i might as well just use really lame, mundane words, because at least they're absolute and true. But seriously, I have a really great group of friends who are some of the most amazing, down to earth, fun people I know. I fear losing that, because as you get older true friends become harder to find. I like surrounding myself with positive people; people who don't have an agenda.
I fear gaining weight. Now, this probably sounds like something most people fear, right? And of course it is. But I really do drive myself crazy sometimes fearing that I'll gain back all of the weight that I lost 2 years ago. The biggest difference isn't in new found confidence, but in how much better people treat you when you aren't overweight. I don't get weird looks in the gym. People hold doors for me now. I can go eat somewhere without condescending looks. And most importantly, random people talk to me, because they magically view you as a worthy, self-respecting person the second you aren't fat.
I fear my anxiety coming back. It came back. It came back in December after being gone for over 2 years. It's kept me from doing things in the past, and I fear it'll have the same effect in the future. I fight the anxiety demon regularly, and it's not as bad now as it was in December & January, but it still lingers. I went on a date with a girl to Tim Horton's a few weeks ago, and my anxiety took over the day before and made me feel very nervous, which made me not feel good. Not feeling good lead me to get even more anxious about possibly being sick, which nearly kept me from going on the date. Whilst on the date, I probably spent 75% of the time talking, because I felt if I didn't talk I was going to puke. We never went on a second date.
I fear not being cool enough. Cool is a really silly word. It's an elementary school word that has sort of hung around like a bad smell and is still a word in everyone's vocabularies today, aside from it being "cool outside." I don't know if anyone is truly cool, or what defines cool, but I guess I fear not being as interesting as other people. I fear that others are doing way more exciting things than I am. While I'm catching up on the latest episodes of Rick & Morty, I sort of just assume that everyone else is out having a beer with someone awesome, or just generally living an interesting life.
I fear not meeting a girl. Sounds mushy, is sort of mushy, so I won't spend too much time on it. But it's true though. I'm a 20 year-old guy who has spent the vast, vast majority of his life single. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing. I'd rather not be in a relationship than be in one with the wrong person, but at times it really does start to become a bummer. Being single can be fun and exciting, but there's nothing wrong with finding a really nice person who compliments your personality, and having them as a regular facet in your life.
I fear doing nothing/not being relevant. This sort of comes from the cool point, but I really do hate not doing anything. I did nothing for a whole year when I dropped out. Then I did nothing but tennis and sports and shit for two years, but at least I was doing something then. I just really hate feeling like I'm not contributing something either to the world or to myself. I could take a train to downtown Toronto with a few buddies, hang out downtown for the day, grab an amazing meal, then hit a pre-game festival and take in a game. I can train it back, and arrive around midnight. The second I sit down at 12:10am and realize that I'm not doing anything, I begin to feel that itch, despite the fact I just spent a day downtown enjoying life. The second I'm not doing something, I worry that means I'm not relevant, or not exciting. The second I'm not preoccupying my brain, I begin to try and think of ways to preoccupy my brain.
I fear a lot of things. These are really only a few prime examples I could think of at the moment, but they're major players in my everyday life and thoughts.
So let me ask, what do you fear?
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
From The Couch
The couch that I'm writing this from is the same couch that I've been stuck on for the past 5 & a half weeks. It's a couch that I've had a lot of time to sit on and think. It's a couch that I'm probably going to avoid when I get out of this cast in 5 days.
When I broke my ankle 5 and a half weeks ago, I really didn't think I broke it. I got up, feeling embarrassed that I took yet another spill while skating, and prepared myself to keep on going, and to fall again. Instead, I stood there, both skates on the ice, wondering why the pain wasn't slowly getting better, and why it was so much different than any minor tweak I had experienced before.
I stood in the same spot for a couple of minutes, then finally decided to try and skate it off. I skated to the other end of the rink, but every time I put my right skate down, it felt a lot more wobbly than it had just a few minutes ago. I finally got to the boards and stood there for another few minutes, until I decided to test out my leg. I lifted my good leg, and magically, I couldn't feel my right leg or foot anymore, and almost went down.
Fast forward now past me getting off the ice, going to the hospital, having a nurse laugh at how I stupidly injured myself, and the doctor coming in and telling me I broke my fibula. I'm on crutches now, in a tenser-wrapped splint that eventually became an air cast.
Five and a half weeks have gone by since then; and in that time, I've really had no other option but to stay at home when I'm not at school, and sort of just wait for the time to pass.
Before I broke my ankle, I would usually go out somewhere after school. Whether it was for a short drive, or to pick up a friend, or just to find somewhere to go, I went. I'd try and avoid coming home at all costs, not because of anyone or anything at home, but because I don't really feel comfortable with the idea of facing my thoughts, and not having something to occupy my brain.
In being stuck like this, I've had no other choice but to be stuck with myself, which has brought on both good and bad. It's good, because it's good to confront things that make you uncomfortable. It's good to push yourself, and hope that you can get past that certain thing weighing you down. At the same time though, it's been tough. I've had periods where I've felt like I lost all of my determination to get better, or to work on school, or to interact with anyone. At times, I've felt like all I want to do is sit and think about how much I hate being like this.
I've also had to learn how to plan ahead, but also to focus short term as well.
While in the past I feel like I've had a good mix of these, they were sort of on different terms while being non-weight bearing in a cast. In the long term, I had to plan ahead what I'd need in the hours to come, so that I could have it close by, or how I'd do something on crutches, or get somewhere on crutches. At the same time though, and almost for the exact same reasons, I've had to learn how to do things very short term as well. When you're on crutches, you're sort of at everyone's mercy. You can't drive, you can't carry things, and you really just can't fend for yourself. So you sort of need to plan in the now when you know that someone has a free moment.
And while I'm on the topic of people, I really can't understate just how appreciative I am of everyone who has helped me. I've really become extremely dependent, and so many people have been there to help me out, and have made this whole situation that much easier. Especially my mom, who has basically become my driver everywhere, and has helped me so much at home.
I joked the night after this happened to someone that I went from watching "how-to" videos on youtube of how to skate, to watching how-to videos on how to use crutches on stairs, and that I had sort of gone full-circle. I suppose in another sense I've gone full-circle in that I was planning on blogging about being a 20 year-old learning how to skate, to now possibly blogging about my rehabbing process.
Anyways, I just wanted to share those few thoughts on what has been going through my head these past weeks. I've certainly gained a larger appreciation for walking, and for those who still continue to work and actively do things despite a major disability.
When I see someone else on crutches, I'll happily go running to help them out...that is, when I can run.
Thanks for reading.
When I broke my ankle 5 and a half weeks ago, I really didn't think I broke it. I got up, feeling embarrassed that I took yet another spill while skating, and prepared myself to keep on going, and to fall again. Instead, I stood there, both skates on the ice, wondering why the pain wasn't slowly getting better, and why it was so much different than any minor tweak I had experienced before.
I stood in the same spot for a couple of minutes, then finally decided to try and skate it off. I skated to the other end of the rink, but every time I put my right skate down, it felt a lot more wobbly than it had just a few minutes ago. I finally got to the boards and stood there for another few minutes, until I decided to test out my leg. I lifted my good leg, and magically, I couldn't feel my right leg or foot anymore, and almost went down.
Fast forward now past me getting off the ice, going to the hospital, having a nurse laugh at how I stupidly injured myself, and the doctor coming in and telling me I broke my fibula. I'm on crutches now, in a tenser-wrapped splint that eventually became an air cast.
Five and a half weeks have gone by since then; and in that time, I've really had no other option but to stay at home when I'm not at school, and sort of just wait for the time to pass.
Before I broke my ankle, I would usually go out somewhere after school. Whether it was for a short drive, or to pick up a friend, or just to find somewhere to go, I went. I'd try and avoid coming home at all costs, not because of anyone or anything at home, but because I don't really feel comfortable with the idea of facing my thoughts, and not having something to occupy my brain.
In being stuck like this, I've had no other choice but to be stuck with myself, which has brought on both good and bad. It's good, because it's good to confront things that make you uncomfortable. It's good to push yourself, and hope that you can get past that certain thing weighing you down. At the same time though, it's been tough. I've had periods where I've felt like I lost all of my determination to get better, or to work on school, or to interact with anyone. At times, I've felt like all I want to do is sit and think about how much I hate being like this.
I've also had to learn how to plan ahead, but also to focus short term as well.
While in the past I feel like I've had a good mix of these, they were sort of on different terms while being non-weight bearing in a cast. In the long term, I had to plan ahead what I'd need in the hours to come, so that I could have it close by, or how I'd do something on crutches, or get somewhere on crutches. At the same time though, and almost for the exact same reasons, I've had to learn how to do things very short term as well. When you're on crutches, you're sort of at everyone's mercy. You can't drive, you can't carry things, and you really just can't fend for yourself. So you sort of need to plan in the now when you know that someone has a free moment.
And while I'm on the topic of people, I really can't understate just how appreciative I am of everyone who has helped me. I've really become extremely dependent, and so many people have been there to help me out, and have made this whole situation that much easier. Especially my mom, who has basically become my driver everywhere, and has helped me so much at home.
I joked the night after this happened to someone that I went from watching "how-to" videos on youtube of how to skate, to watching how-to videos on how to use crutches on stairs, and that I had sort of gone full-circle. I suppose in another sense I've gone full-circle in that I was planning on blogging about being a 20 year-old learning how to skate, to now possibly blogging about my rehabbing process.
Anyways, I just wanted to share those few thoughts on what has been going through my head these past weeks. I've certainly gained a larger appreciation for walking, and for those who still continue to work and actively do things despite a major disability.
When I see someone else on crutches, I'll happily go running to help them out...that is, when I can run.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Restarting
I would like to start off this post by saying that I have anxiety issues.
Anxiety.
There, I said it. I said one of those words that so many of us are afraid of, myself included. We're scared of things like OCD, and depression, and anxiety (just to name a few). And I think we're scared because as humans we're naturally control freaks to a certain degree. We have these bodies that we're in, and these brains and hearts and other organs that function, and with that we sort of assume that we should be in control of them at all times. By admitting to having some sort of mental illness to that degree, we sort of admit that we don't always have that control, and that's scary.
Anxiety is wading. It doesn't just leave and go away forever. It's this demon that you sort of have to battle, and it improves, and gets worse, and really just goes through the motions depending on what's going on in your life. I've had dark times where my anxiety crippled me to a point where I didn't want to do anything, where I came to terms with the fact I was this anxiety ridden misfit who wouldn't accomplish anything because he was scared of everything. I've also had the polar opposite where my anxiety hadn't touched me in months, and that was the case up until recently.
A lot of my anxiety is caused by a fear of feeling ill, and by fearing that, I end up feeling ill as a result of the anxiety. Now, I hadn't gotten sick in quite a few years, three years in fact, so my anxiety about that had gotten to a point of near non-existence. But that came to a grinding halt recently when in the first week of December I ended up getting really ill, on top of having one of my best friends leave for two years, in which I can have very little contact with him. It sort of came out of no where, and I soldiered through it, but it sort of brought back that anxiety because it brought me back down to earth about the fact that I can get sick, and it reminded me of just have damn awful it can be.
I'm also a part time germaphobe; a word which my computer refuses to recognize as legitimate, but it's real. That germaphobia made me really crazy about things at one point about 2 years back. I had gotten rid of some anxiety, but I replaced it by constantly hand sanitizing, and just not even touching things while being out; I became Howie Mandel when he actually had hair.
So as I was saying, I got sick, I also got better. I was super ill the Friday it started, and by Saturday I was already eating lots of crackers and going through quite a few water bottles. But I knew that once I got better, the creeping fear of getting sick would come back. Thing is though, it wasn't so much a fear of getting sick again, as much as it was the fear of fearing getting sick again.
I've said this repeatedly, but I'm a big believer that the #1 issue within anxiety is the fear of having the anxiety. You enter such a dark place when you're going through the anxiety attacks, a much darker place than when you're sick with a 12 hour bug.
So I've been struggling. I've been struggling with the reemergence of my anxiety to a degree, and somehow trying to find a way to get past that. And I write all of this stuff not for people to go "Oh, poor you" or anything like that. I don't want that, I don't like people feeling sorry for me. I'm typing all of this stuff because I feel it's important to make public one's issues with mental illness. Even if it doesn't spur someone else to go and write about their issues (snowball effect), it does show people that there are others out there dealing with these issues, and that they're not alone at all.
I also take this comfort in writing. It's like a warm blanket for me. Maybe because I'm keeping my fingers moving while my whole body wants to crumble under the pressure of anxiety. Maybe because by making my brain process everything, it helps it realize that we all deal with these things, and that this is just one instance of it.
But I really take comfort in it, and I can't even explain properly how much having the ability to write means to me.
I've learned that I really know myself. I know myself to a very deep level that I trust my gut on almost every first gut feeling I get. I know what I like, I know who I like. But what I struggle with is understanding myself. While I may know things, I don't really understand how or why I am a certain way, just as we don't understand why others act a certain way. I sometimes feel like I'm a total stranger to myself, because (like with the onset of anxiety) I can go from one guy who has the whole game working for him with no worries, to this guy who is having regular anxiety attacks again.
I also know what I want to be, but I can't understand why I have such a difficult time accomplishing getting there, being that person. I like who I am, I really do. When I was in high school I didn't like myself, and therefore it made it hard for others to like me, because I was always molding myself to what I thought everyone wanted me to be, but you can't please everyone. So in the course of being out of school between leaving school and entering college, I really learned to like myself and appreciate who I am and my journey. At the same time though, I really wish I could care less about things like getting sick, like how others treat me, like different relationships and hardships I carry.
But alas, I am who I am; and maybe that's one of the biggest keys to happiness and learning not to care so much, is just total acceptance. Maybe we need to accept that we aren't always in control of our thoughts. Maybe we need to accept that we aren't always who we want ourselves to be. Maybe we need to understand that sometimes, we just don't understand; and that's okay.
Understanding and accepting are two totally different things. But if you can somehow understand AND accept that you're an ever evolving person, thrown into this world with other evolving people, maybe we can come to terms with the fact that perfection isn't a reality.
Life is this beautiful mess of screw-ups and accomplishments. It's punching your fist into a wall out of frustration, then in the future punching the air like Tiger Woods when you just accomplished something you never thought possible.
I need to get back to embracing those lows, because I know more highs are on the way.
Anxiety.
There, I said it. I said one of those words that so many of us are afraid of, myself included. We're scared of things like OCD, and depression, and anxiety (just to name a few). And I think we're scared because as humans we're naturally control freaks to a certain degree. We have these bodies that we're in, and these brains and hearts and other organs that function, and with that we sort of assume that we should be in control of them at all times. By admitting to having some sort of mental illness to that degree, we sort of admit that we don't always have that control, and that's scary.
Anxiety is wading. It doesn't just leave and go away forever. It's this demon that you sort of have to battle, and it improves, and gets worse, and really just goes through the motions depending on what's going on in your life. I've had dark times where my anxiety crippled me to a point where I didn't want to do anything, where I came to terms with the fact I was this anxiety ridden misfit who wouldn't accomplish anything because he was scared of everything. I've also had the polar opposite where my anxiety hadn't touched me in months, and that was the case up until recently.
A lot of my anxiety is caused by a fear of feeling ill, and by fearing that, I end up feeling ill as a result of the anxiety. Now, I hadn't gotten sick in quite a few years, three years in fact, so my anxiety about that had gotten to a point of near non-existence. But that came to a grinding halt recently when in the first week of December I ended up getting really ill, on top of having one of my best friends leave for two years, in which I can have very little contact with him. It sort of came out of no where, and I soldiered through it, but it sort of brought back that anxiety because it brought me back down to earth about the fact that I can get sick, and it reminded me of just have damn awful it can be.
I'm also a part time germaphobe; a word which my computer refuses to recognize as legitimate, but it's real. That germaphobia made me really crazy about things at one point about 2 years back. I had gotten rid of some anxiety, but I replaced it by constantly hand sanitizing, and just not even touching things while being out; I became Howie Mandel when he actually had hair.
So as I was saying, I got sick, I also got better. I was super ill the Friday it started, and by Saturday I was already eating lots of crackers and going through quite a few water bottles. But I knew that once I got better, the creeping fear of getting sick would come back. Thing is though, it wasn't so much a fear of getting sick again, as much as it was the fear of fearing getting sick again.
I've said this repeatedly, but I'm a big believer that the #1 issue within anxiety is the fear of having the anxiety. You enter such a dark place when you're going through the anxiety attacks, a much darker place than when you're sick with a 12 hour bug.
So I've been struggling. I've been struggling with the reemergence of my anxiety to a degree, and somehow trying to find a way to get past that. And I write all of this stuff not for people to go "Oh, poor you" or anything like that. I don't want that, I don't like people feeling sorry for me. I'm typing all of this stuff because I feel it's important to make public one's issues with mental illness. Even if it doesn't spur someone else to go and write about their issues (snowball effect), it does show people that there are others out there dealing with these issues, and that they're not alone at all.
I also take this comfort in writing. It's like a warm blanket for me. Maybe because I'm keeping my fingers moving while my whole body wants to crumble under the pressure of anxiety. Maybe because by making my brain process everything, it helps it realize that we all deal with these things, and that this is just one instance of it.
But I really take comfort in it, and I can't even explain properly how much having the ability to write means to me.
I've learned that I really know myself. I know myself to a very deep level that I trust my gut on almost every first gut feeling I get. I know what I like, I know who I like. But what I struggle with is understanding myself. While I may know things, I don't really understand how or why I am a certain way, just as we don't understand why others act a certain way. I sometimes feel like I'm a total stranger to myself, because (like with the onset of anxiety) I can go from one guy who has the whole game working for him with no worries, to this guy who is having regular anxiety attacks again.
I also know what I want to be, but I can't understand why I have such a difficult time accomplishing getting there, being that person. I like who I am, I really do. When I was in high school I didn't like myself, and therefore it made it hard for others to like me, because I was always molding myself to what I thought everyone wanted me to be, but you can't please everyone. So in the course of being out of school between leaving school and entering college, I really learned to like myself and appreciate who I am and my journey. At the same time though, I really wish I could care less about things like getting sick, like how others treat me, like different relationships and hardships I carry.
But alas, I am who I am; and maybe that's one of the biggest keys to happiness and learning not to care so much, is just total acceptance. Maybe we need to accept that we aren't always in control of our thoughts. Maybe we need to accept that we aren't always who we want ourselves to be. Maybe we need to understand that sometimes, we just don't understand; and that's okay.
Understanding and accepting are two totally different things. But if you can somehow understand AND accept that you're an ever evolving person, thrown into this world with other evolving people, maybe we can come to terms with the fact that perfection isn't a reality.
Life is this beautiful mess of screw-ups and accomplishments. It's punching your fist into a wall out of frustration, then in the future punching the air like Tiger Woods when you just accomplished something you never thought possible.
I need to get back to embracing those lows, because I know more highs are on the way.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
The Power in Writing
I began writing rap lyrics in grade 8.
I was going through a really tough time with some personal things, and I missed a lot of school because of it. I lost a lot of friendships, gained a lot of enemies, and suddenly became immersed in the music of Eminem. Rap became an outlet of sorts, where I was able to express a lot of the pain I was feeling in an artistic manner, and get decent support because of it.
This continued through grade 9 and grade 10. Whenever I felt the need to vent my frustrations, I would either pick up a pen and paper, or open up a new notepad document on my computer.
I even got pretty good at it. I got to the point where I was mixing different rhymes inside a sentence or two, and they all had a really good flow to them. I viewed it as art and as expressionism. I viewed it as a way of getting people's attention. Sometimes that attention was good, and sometimes it was bad; but it didn't really matter to me, because all I wanted was the attention.
Those raps were very dark, because for years even before I left school I think I was in a fairly dark place. I really didn't like myself, and felt that I needed everyone's approval to be considered a worthy human-being.
So eventually the lyrics of my raps sort of came back to bite me in the butt, and the blatant "misinterpretation" of some of the lyrics was one of the driving forces in me leaving school, fueled by someone's extreme distaste towards me, but that's a totally different story.
When I left school in grade 11, I continued to write raps for about 3 or 4 months, until I got to the point where I felt I sort of plateaued in terms of my ability to express myself through them. The constant need for rhythm and rhyming sort of hindered my ability to truly express what I was feeling, so I turned to blogging.
I've been blogging for exactly 3 years now, albeit infrequently. As times got darker, my blogs became not just a place where I could write and then post those thoughts to the world, but where I could read over my own thoughts and see from a different view what I was going through. Reading my own pieces often brought me to tears, just seeing how dark of a place I was in, but it helped me better understand that place and has continually been a source for helping me appreciate how far I've come.
I've written a lot about mental health. I've typed the words "anxiety" and "depression" multiple times. I've written about what happened that caused me to leave school. I've written a letter to myself from 5 years ago, outlining some of the struggle I'd go through, but that I'd ultimately make it through it.
I've gotten a lot of feedback on my pieces. One blog I remember writing in particular got retweeted by a fairly big mental health advocate, and I remember getting probably a solid 30 @ replies from others who had struggled with anxiety as well. That's something that I'll never forget, because as much as I may write for myself, hearing other people take comfort in that someone else has gone through something means the world to me.
Writing is this beautiful, powerful thing that we've been given. To make up words, and now, in this day and age, to put them onto a large platform gives us this extraordinary amount of power.
Writing, when done right, is more than just words. It's a big "I'VE BEEN THERE" to people who struggle with things you're writing about. It's a big "CHECK THIS OUT, WE SHOULD PROBABLY CARE ABOUT THIS CAUSE" when writing about something people may not know about or fully understand. And in my opinion, being good at writing really only comes down to one thing: Humility.
You can use all of the big, eye grabbing words in the dictionary. You can spin a yarn for miles on words and majestic images that people ohh and aww at in their minds, but nothing will ever beat having the ability to say "This is who I am, these are my thoughts. I'm not perfect, but I'd like to share my opinions with you." Writing isn't about who's better at painting pictures with words, it's about how you can connect on an emotional and human level with the people reading what you wrote. Making those people feel what you felt; making people care about about the subject you wrote about, is exactly the power that we have with writing.
I'll end on this quote:
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”- Ernest Hemingway.
I was going through a really tough time with some personal things, and I missed a lot of school because of it. I lost a lot of friendships, gained a lot of enemies, and suddenly became immersed in the music of Eminem. Rap became an outlet of sorts, where I was able to express a lot of the pain I was feeling in an artistic manner, and get decent support because of it.
This continued through grade 9 and grade 10. Whenever I felt the need to vent my frustrations, I would either pick up a pen and paper, or open up a new notepad document on my computer.
I even got pretty good at it. I got to the point where I was mixing different rhymes inside a sentence or two, and they all had a really good flow to them. I viewed it as art and as expressionism. I viewed it as a way of getting people's attention. Sometimes that attention was good, and sometimes it was bad; but it didn't really matter to me, because all I wanted was the attention.
Those raps were very dark, because for years even before I left school I think I was in a fairly dark place. I really didn't like myself, and felt that I needed everyone's approval to be considered a worthy human-being.
So eventually the lyrics of my raps sort of came back to bite me in the butt, and the blatant "misinterpretation" of some of the lyrics was one of the driving forces in me leaving school, fueled by someone's extreme distaste towards me, but that's a totally different story.
When I left school in grade 11, I continued to write raps for about 3 or 4 months, until I got to the point where I felt I sort of plateaued in terms of my ability to express myself through them. The constant need for rhythm and rhyming sort of hindered my ability to truly express what I was feeling, so I turned to blogging.
I've been blogging for exactly 3 years now, albeit infrequently. As times got darker, my blogs became not just a place where I could write and then post those thoughts to the world, but where I could read over my own thoughts and see from a different view what I was going through. Reading my own pieces often brought me to tears, just seeing how dark of a place I was in, but it helped me better understand that place and has continually been a source for helping me appreciate how far I've come.
I've written a lot about mental health. I've typed the words "anxiety" and "depression" multiple times. I've written about what happened that caused me to leave school. I've written a letter to myself from 5 years ago, outlining some of the struggle I'd go through, but that I'd ultimately make it through it.
I've gotten a lot of feedback on my pieces. One blog I remember writing in particular got retweeted by a fairly big mental health advocate, and I remember getting probably a solid 30 @ replies from others who had struggled with anxiety as well. That's something that I'll never forget, because as much as I may write for myself, hearing other people take comfort in that someone else has gone through something means the world to me.
Writing is this beautiful, powerful thing that we've been given. To make up words, and now, in this day and age, to put them onto a large platform gives us this extraordinary amount of power.
Writing, when done right, is more than just words. It's a big "I'VE BEEN THERE" to people who struggle with things you're writing about. It's a big "CHECK THIS OUT, WE SHOULD PROBABLY CARE ABOUT THIS CAUSE" when writing about something people may not know about or fully understand. And in my opinion, being good at writing really only comes down to one thing: Humility.
You can use all of the big, eye grabbing words in the dictionary. You can spin a yarn for miles on words and majestic images that people ohh and aww at in their minds, but nothing will ever beat having the ability to say "This is who I am, these are my thoughts. I'm not perfect, but I'd like to share my opinions with you." Writing isn't about who's better at painting pictures with words, it's about how you can connect on an emotional and human level with the people reading what you wrote. Making those people feel what you felt; making people care about about the subject you wrote about, is exactly the power that we have with writing.
I'll end on this quote:
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”- Ernest Hemingway.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
That Creative Itch
I get this itch when I'm not doing anything; this itch that drives me to want to create something new, or say something different.
Every night, when I sit down at my computer, I stare at it long and hard and decide if tonight is the night. Is this the night I express something that's weighing on me? Is this the night I publish a blog? Or go on a social media rant about something I care about, hoping to garner people's attention?
One of my biggest struggles when I was out of school was finding ways to be productive. Sure, I could have done online school like I was supposed to, but that wasn't any fun! So I went through this daily battle, much like I do to this day, figuring out how I'd express myself.
Problem is, there becomes a point when you say so many things and express your thoughts on so many topics at so many times that people stop paying attention. The more you say, the less people will listen; the more you write, the less people will read.
Fact is, people begin to take less & less stock in what you have to say the more you say it. That doesn't mean that you should be hesitant about saying anything, or strategically plan saying certain things at certain times, but I think it does mean that you should at least think through if what you're about to say is really worth other people's time.
But this becomes hard. As a guy who fights this itch every night knowing that he can't scratch it, it becomes unbearable at times. It's this constant battle between A) I really do have something to say, and B) I just want to post something so that people will read it.
I was naive in thinking that being in school would erase that itch. If anything, that itch has gotten stronger, because I'm in school where I have the opportunity to create things occasionally, then I get home and I don't really have that anymore. It becomes this obsessive need to be doing something; to, in my eyes, make something of myself and my time.
So it becomes this battle of wills. In the blue corner, we have the part of me that wants to be seen. In the red corner, we have the part of me that wants to be heard.
Being heard should ALWAYS be the top priority. There are people who say and post things constantly out of wanting to be seen. We know who those people are, and some might even say there's a special place in hell for them.
But seriously, there's a reason why we know who they are, and lets be honest for a second, do we EVER read their stuff? No! It sort of becomes this case of the boy who cried wolf, except nobody cried wolf, they cried attention. And when that happens, something of actual value or importance may get lost because nobody bothers to pay attention to that person. If 1/20 things they say are of actual interest to others, what are the odds of people seeing that one thing, when they learn to scan over the other 19.
Anyways, I get the sense I might sound like a bit of jerk in this, and that definitely wasn't my attention. All I'm trying to say is that I have this itch, and I have a feeling of needing to be doing something because if I'm doing nothing, I feel less important. I think other people probably feel that way too, a lot more than we'd like to admit.
Every night, when I sit down at my computer, I stare at it long and hard and decide if tonight is the night. Is this the night I express something that's weighing on me? Is this the night I publish a blog? Or go on a social media rant about something I care about, hoping to garner people's attention?
One of my biggest struggles when I was out of school was finding ways to be productive. Sure, I could have done online school like I was supposed to, but that wasn't any fun! So I went through this daily battle, much like I do to this day, figuring out how I'd express myself.
Problem is, there becomes a point when you say so many things and express your thoughts on so many topics at so many times that people stop paying attention. The more you say, the less people will listen; the more you write, the less people will read.
Fact is, people begin to take less & less stock in what you have to say the more you say it. That doesn't mean that you should be hesitant about saying anything, or strategically plan saying certain things at certain times, but I think it does mean that you should at least think through if what you're about to say is really worth other people's time.
But this becomes hard. As a guy who fights this itch every night knowing that he can't scratch it, it becomes unbearable at times. It's this constant battle between A) I really do have something to say, and B) I just want to post something so that people will read it.
I was naive in thinking that being in school would erase that itch. If anything, that itch has gotten stronger, because I'm in school where I have the opportunity to create things occasionally, then I get home and I don't really have that anymore. It becomes this obsessive need to be doing something; to, in my eyes, make something of myself and my time.
So it becomes this battle of wills. In the blue corner, we have the part of me that wants to be seen. In the red corner, we have the part of me that wants to be heard.
Being heard should ALWAYS be the top priority. There are people who say and post things constantly out of wanting to be seen. We know who those people are, and some might even say there's a special place in hell for them.
But seriously, there's a reason why we know who they are, and lets be honest for a second, do we EVER read their stuff? No! It sort of becomes this case of the boy who cried wolf, except nobody cried wolf, they cried attention. And when that happens, something of actual value or importance may get lost because nobody bothers to pay attention to that person. If 1/20 things they say are of actual interest to others, what are the odds of people seeing that one thing, when they learn to scan over the other 19.
Anyways, I get the sense I might sound like a bit of jerk in this, and that definitely wasn't my attention. All I'm trying to say is that I have this itch, and I have a feeling of needing to be doing something because if I'm doing nothing, I feel less important. I think other people probably feel that way too, a lot more than we'd like to admit.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Don't Fight Alone
I'm not the most frequent blogger out there. In fact, it's taken me since march to figure out something I wanted to blog about.
But I feel particularly inclined to write. I feel like I need to express a part of my life and something I did to help myself, so that others will hopefully take that advice and get the help they need too.
First off - If I sound a little "newsy" or whatever you wanna call it, please excuse it. I haven't blogged in months, and I've done a lot of news writing pieces for school since then, so this might be a combination of news writing, opinion, 3rd person, reflection, and whatever else you can throw into a blog.
Now, I want to talk about anxiety. The height of my anxiety was around Spring 2011. I had been out of school early for about 5 or 6 months at this point, and way behind because I wasn't doing my online school work. My anxiety riddled me, and it was a battle I was fighting alone because I was too ashamed to admit to anyone what I was going through.
There's this stigma that surrounds anxiety, and mental illness as a whole, that if you have a mental illness you are either A) Weak B) Unstable or C) Crazy.
All three are false.
While I can't deny that you encounter some interesting characters in the waiting room at a therapist's place in a hospital, I can say that you aren't crazy, weak or unstable for having a mental illness. Having a mental illness doesn't emasculate you; it doesn't bring down your worthiness as a human being.
Unfortunately though, there is that stigma that surrounds it, and that stigma is the exact reason that people never come out to others for support about what they're going through. You don't want to tell people that you shake like a leaf at all hours of the night, sweating and having a panic attack with tunnel vision, thinking you'd rather be dead than where you are right now.
You don't want to say "Hey mom, listen; don't take this the wrong way, but I fucking hate my life right now. I can't stand it. I dread every second of every day because I fear life. I fear anxiety and I fear every minute that comes because I don't know what it'll bring, so don't even get me started on the future."
Nobody wants to do that. Hell, even as someone who has done that, I wouldn't wanna do it again.
I'm not going to sugar coat it - it is HARD to admit to someone what you're going through. It feels like this rush of everything that you've gone through up to that moment, but it's all happening in one split second. You can see the person's facial expression, as they soak it all in. You can see the pain, and the empathy in their eyes and maybe you love it, or maybe you hate. Either way, it is SO necessary to come out to someone about what you're going through.
Mental illness is such a tough battle. It's a big opponent, and one that you shouldn't fight alone. Nobody deserves to go through it. Nobody deserves to be feeling like every day is a new day trapped in their own personal prison cell - that prison cell being their brain.
It is so essential for you to seek help. It is so essential for you to battle this head on, but to battle it with others by your side. Don't let it linger, don't let it continue to get worse to the point where you can't take it anymore.
When I admitted to my mom that I was having severe anxiety, things didn't get better right away; in fact, they got worse.
Because I had admitted everything I was going through to her, we began to face everything head on. I stopped pretending that it was okay, and really went after my demons, which is probably the most difficult part of the battle. It's hard to face what you're going through, and it's hard to dive right on in and tackle it head on, but when you do that, you slowly start coming up to the surface. Slowly but surely you begin to understand that you're not in this alone, and that there are solutions and fixes to what you're going through. Slowly but surely, you begin to heal.
So please, don't be afraid to open up to someone. Whether it's a friend, family member, or someone that you feel wouldn't pass any judgement; Just please, do it.
I'll end on this quote:
"You don't have to control your thoughts. You just have to stop letting them control you." - Dan Millman.
But I feel particularly inclined to write. I feel like I need to express a part of my life and something I did to help myself, so that others will hopefully take that advice and get the help they need too.
First off - If I sound a little "newsy" or whatever you wanna call it, please excuse it. I haven't blogged in months, and I've done a lot of news writing pieces for school since then, so this might be a combination of news writing, opinion, 3rd person, reflection, and whatever else you can throw into a blog.
Now, I want to talk about anxiety. The height of my anxiety was around Spring 2011. I had been out of school early for about 5 or 6 months at this point, and way behind because I wasn't doing my online school work. My anxiety riddled me, and it was a battle I was fighting alone because I was too ashamed to admit to anyone what I was going through.
There's this stigma that surrounds anxiety, and mental illness as a whole, that if you have a mental illness you are either A) Weak B) Unstable or C) Crazy.
All three are false.
While I can't deny that you encounter some interesting characters in the waiting room at a therapist's place in a hospital, I can say that you aren't crazy, weak or unstable for having a mental illness. Having a mental illness doesn't emasculate you; it doesn't bring down your worthiness as a human being.
Unfortunately though, there is that stigma that surrounds it, and that stigma is the exact reason that people never come out to others for support about what they're going through. You don't want to tell people that you shake like a leaf at all hours of the night, sweating and having a panic attack with tunnel vision, thinking you'd rather be dead than where you are right now.
You don't want to say "Hey mom, listen; don't take this the wrong way, but I fucking hate my life right now. I can't stand it. I dread every second of every day because I fear life. I fear anxiety and I fear every minute that comes because I don't know what it'll bring, so don't even get me started on the future."
Nobody wants to do that. Hell, even as someone who has done that, I wouldn't wanna do it again.
I'm not going to sugar coat it - it is HARD to admit to someone what you're going through. It feels like this rush of everything that you've gone through up to that moment, but it's all happening in one split second. You can see the person's facial expression, as they soak it all in. You can see the pain, and the empathy in their eyes and maybe you love it, or maybe you hate. Either way, it is SO necessary to come out to someone about what you're going through.
Mental illness is such a tough battle. It's a big opponent, and one that you shouldn't fight alone. Nobody deserves to go through it. Nobody deserves to be feeling like every day is a new day trapped in their own personal prison cell - that prison cell being their brain.
It is so essential for you to seek help. It is so essential for you to battle this head on, but to battle it with others by your side. Don't let it linger, don't let it continue to get worse to the point where you can't take it anymore.
When I admitted to my mom that I was having severe anxiety, things didn't get better right away; in fact, they got worse.
Because I had admitted everything I was going through to her, we began to face everything head on. I stopped pretending that it was okay, and really went after my demons, which is probably the most difficult part of the battle. It's hard to face what you're going through, and it's hard to dive right on in and tackle it head on, but when you do that, you slowly start coming up to the surface. Slowly but surely you begin to understand that you're not in this alone, and that there are solutions and fixes to what you're going through. Slowly but surely, you begin to heal.
So please, don't be afraid to open up to someone. Whether it's a friend, family member, or someone that you feel wouldn't pass any judgement; Just please, do it.
I'll end on this quote:
"You don't have to control your thoughts. You just have to stop letting them control you." - Dan Millman.
I
think we all have blocks between us and the best version of ourselves,
whether it's shyness, insecurity, anxiety, whether it's a physical
block, and the story of a person overcoming that block to their best
self. It's truly inspiring because I think all of us are engaged in that
every day.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/anxiety.html#TKv285J
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/anxiety.html#TKv285J
I
think we all have blocks between us and the best version of ourselves,
whether it's shyness, insecurity, anxiety, whether it's a physical
block, and the story of a person overcoming that block to their best
self. It's truly inspiring because I think all of us are engaged in that
every day.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/anxiety.html#TKv285J
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/anxiety.html#TKv285J
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Sometimes We Need To Listen
Earlier on I got into a bit of heated chat with my mom about things such as people in our lives, and where I'd go to school. With everything she said I quickly turned it down with a smug, smartass remark. This continued for about 2 hours, until something inside of me finally told me to shut up.
Every smartass comment I made was something to bring her down. It was me telling her "I know what's better for myself and for you than even you do." Just like in many spirited debates, you exchange blows; trying to knock the other person down, make them vulnerable, and then win the debate with one final punch.
But as we reached the 2 hour mark, something inside of me finally made me listen. Instead of having this stone heart and these closed ears that I had been using for much of the conversation, I finally opened up to listen. And as I listened I learned something very valuable. We all know we're very quick to criticize others on their way of life, and as they defend their decisions, just as quickly, we turn down their defense. We continue going at them for their reasoning for things, and we keep telling them why they'd be better off living another way, or approaching something from a different angle.
But when you stop to listen, and I mean TRULY listen, you begin to get an appreciation for what someone is saying. And as she went on saying what she felt needed to be said, I realized that life would be much easier if we just stopped to listen every once in a while.
See, we tend to get the notion that we know what's best for people. For some reason we believe we know the magical answer to everyone's problems, and if their logic doesn't match ours, then frankly, it just isn't logic.
I feel I'm struggling to get my point across, so let me describe it in the best detail possible: As I sat there silently listening to her talk, about her opinions and her feelings, why she has done certain things the way she has done, I realized I was wrong for questioning her. Everything she said made perfect sense, she had the perfect reasoning for doing certain things, whether it was why she's going back to this church we've tried to attend multiple times, or the way she's going to go about life now that she's healthy. She believed strongly in what she was doing, so strongly in fact, that listening to her really humbled me. Maybe it's hard to get across from reading. Maybe it's just one of those interpersonal moments where you're just hit with that "Wow" factor, but it really just shut me up and made me think to a degree in which I haven't done lately.
She also mentioned about being thankful for the little things, and I know I haven't been as thankful as I should for so many amazing things in my life, here are some of them
So, moral of the story is, sometimes we really just need to listen. We need to stop assuming we know what's best for people, and let them live their lives based on what they feel is best for them. Just as I want people to back off me for my decision making, I need to back off others. Just as I want people to trust that I'll go in the right direction, I need to trust others.
Every smartass comment I made was something to bring her down. It was me telling her "I know what's better for myself and for you than even you do." Just like in many spirited debates, you exchange blows; trying to knock the other person down, make them vulnerable, and then win the debate with one final punch.
But as we reached the 2 hour mark, something inside of me finally made me listen. Instead of having this stone heart and these closed ears that I had been using for much of the conversation, I finally opened up to listen. And as I listened I learned something very valuable. We all know we're very quick to criticize others on their way of life, and as they defend their decisions, just as quickly, we turn down their defense. We continue going at them for their reasoning for things, and we keep telling them why they'd be better off living another way, or approaching something from a different angle.
But when you stop to listen, and I mean TRULY listen, you begin to get an appreciation for what someone is saying. And as she went on saying what she felt needed to be said, I realized that life would be much easier if we just stopped to listen every once in a while.
See, we tend to get the notion that we know what's best for people. For some reason we believe we know the magical answer to everyone's problems, and if their logic doesn't match ours, then frankly, it just isn't logic.
I feel I'm struggling to get my point across, so let me describe it in the best detail possible: As I sat there silently listening to her talk, about her opinions and her feelings, why she has done certain things the way she has done, I realized I was wrong for questioning her. Everything she said made perfect sense, she had the perfect reasoning for doing certain things, whether it was why she's going back to this church we've tried to attend multiple times, or the way she's going to go about life now that she's healthy. She believed strongly in what she was doing, so strongly in fact, that listening to her really humbled me. Maybe it's hard to get across from reading. Maybe it's just one of those interpersonal moments where you're just hit with that "Wow" factor, but it really just shut me up and made me think to a degree in which I haven't done lately.
She also mentioned about being thankful for the little things, and I know I haven't been as thankful as I should for so many amazing things in my life, here are some of them
- I'm not thankful enough for having a mom who always has my back, even in my darkest times.
- I'm not thankful enough for my grandparents, to both of whom I am like a child to them, and they're like parents to me.
- I'm not thankful enough for getting accepted into colleges, despite only having my grade 10 education at this time last year.
- I'm not thankful enough for my sisters. Who I know will grow into amazing, beautiful people.
- I'm not thankful enough for my friends. While it's a tight circle, it's an amazing one.
- I'm not thankful enough for my job. Where I get to interact with others, and golf for free.
- I'm not thankful enough for the roof over my shoulders, and food on my plate.
- I'm not thankful enough for where I am, and even for where I've been.
So, moral of the story is, sometimes we really just need to listen. We need to stop assuming we know what's best for people, and let them live their lives based on what they feel is best for them. Just as I want people to back off me for my decision making, I need to back off others. Just as I want people to trust that I'll go in the right direction, I need to trust others.
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