Your Feelings are Valid.

I feel so… Unambitious. Lazy. Sad.

What’s up with me nowadays? There’s just so many voices in my head! “Should’s” mask my reality, and I just feel like my life is slipping away. It’s depressing. From the outside, it might just seem like I have it all together, but on the inside is this turmoil that I can’t seem to shut down or control.

  1. I crave romance, but I tell myself that I can’t love someone until I love myself first. That entails me having to ‘fix’ my body in order to feel confident enough. Paradox: I feel like I’m not supposed to change my body for a guy, and I feel like I have some deep soul searching to do on the inside before I can even lose all the weight… And this is a vicious cycle that has gone on for about 5 years.
  2. I’m constantly in this state of stress and self-loathing. I’m in college on a scholarship and my rent is paid for; I’m not struggling financially, but I feel like I peaked at the age of 19. I tell myself that I should be appreciative of what I do have, but the paradox is that even when I feel #blessed, I can’t help but worry that this is the best it’s gonna get. My college experience is just going to consist of me going to class, getting random s**t done on my checklist, stuDYING, and mourning my lack of friends.
  3. I know that there are people who are willing to hang out with me and who consider me their friends, but I just can’t reach out to them. Paradox: I have their phone numbers, they probably have my new one. Nothing is getting in the way except for myself. But, gosh! Couldn’t they text ME first for once?

Reading this draft of a post months later, I realize how… invalidating I was towards my feelings and opinions. These sentiments listed above are REAL. That’s just the way it is. No more, “should’s” or, “shouldn’t’s.” In CBT, I’ve been learning to work with my feelings. Instead of forcibly trying to push away uncomfortable thoughts, I instead must sit with the feelings and just… breathe. Think about what lead me to those thoughts. Rationalize. And forgive myself. Because I’m only human.

Advertisements

Lust

Lust is a cloud in a thunderstorm. If you let it cloud your day, your ambition for the things you’ve worked towards will slowly begin to die. Everything you valued will suddenly become less meaningful, and you won’t gain the same amount of pleasure from doing activities you enjoyed so deeply before. You will wander, floating aimlessly through the gushes of wind. And on that day, that dreadful day, when you realize that all you have done is waste your time and energy on that boy, that silly, silly boy… you’ll feel… worthless. I’ve been to that place on the hill before. I’ve felt that pain. The loneliness. The angst of it all. And it is excruciatingly uncomfortable.

But soon, soon you will begin to open your eyes and see… the green pastures along the shining horizon. Could you imagine what that might feel like? To feel as light as a feather? To suddenly remember who you are and where you come from? To once again find hope?

That’s where I’m going. Where no storm could ever take away my resiliency, my strength, my self-love. I am who I am, and there is something to be said about that. I am a beautiful warrior who has traveled to the other side. I am capable of love… of being loved… and loving. Someday, someone will be courageous enough to see that and decide to risk being seen, scars and all, letting their guard down… for me.

“Together” is a powerful thing. But I am powerful on my own for now. And that’s beautiful. I am capable of opening my heart more easily now. That’s even more beautiful.

I am beautiful.

Men: A bullet-pointed list

  • Are trash. Well, there are a handful of exceptions, but the majority (yes) are trash. I may be biased due to a few select encounters.
  • Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em. Literally.
  • I’m at a point in my life when I honestly can’t imagine getting married. Ever. Will any man ever be good enough for me? Will I ever be good enough for a man? Short answer: Yes. What up, Jesus? 🙂 ^^^
  • I’m the kind of person to ask a guy out, because hey, if they won’t, “man up,” someone has to! (Which I just recently did. More details to come.)
  • I would like to be a man for a day.
    • I would be Emilio Vasquez… the third.
    • I’d man-spread my legs sitting on the bus on the way home from campus.
    • I’d listen to rap music— no, rap is awesome. I already do that.
    • Fine, I’d eat a banana in public without feeling uncomfortable.
    • I’d compliment other guys.
    • I’d cry just to see how difficult it would be for me to release any sign of emotion in front of other guys.
    • Finally, I’d eat whatever the hell I wanted.
  • Don’t scare me. They never have. I hope that never changes.
  • Don’t have it easy. We all have our problems, but hey, I wouldn’t mind a little less discomfort from walking down the street at night.

Tell Me You Like Me

Would you tell me you liked me?

Even if the odds were stacked against you,

would you be brave enough to tell me the truth?

Would you count the number of stars in the sky,

even if there was a good chance you could be

wrong?

 

Age is nothing but a number, so they say.

But considering your age,

would you man up and share how you truly felt

that day?

 

That day, I thought I saw it. I felt it.

That connection. The spark. That twinkle in your

eyes.

Did my eyes deceive me? Could it be true?

Please. Just tell me. Because I like you, too.

 

But time is racing towards us, and it won’t stop.

Maybe I could do something about this. But…no I

can’t. I can’t.

 

Women are supposed to be light and soft and

feminine.

 Women are supposed to be courted, the door held

wide open for them.

Women are supposed to be waiting… and waiting…

and waiting.

Waiting for the man to make the move.

 

But what if I’m tired of waiting? And waiting… and

waiting… and waiting?!

 

 

So I ask myself:

 

 

Will you tell him you like him?

Even if the odds are stacked against you, could you

 be brave enough to tell him the truth?

 

Will you count the number of stars in the sky,

even if there is a good chance you could be wrong?

 

Age is nothing but a number…

But considering your age,

will you woman up and share how you truly felt

that day?

 

That day, you saw it. You did. You felt it. Yes.

That connection. The spark. That twinkle in his

eyes.

Your eyes did not deceive you.

 

So what if he says no? What have you got to lose?

Time is racing towards you, anyways. It always has,

and it always will.

 

No more waiting.

 

Thunder thighs

I wonder if this is all a dream.

All I was meant to be.

She stares at her reflection in the spotty mirror

only to find the imperfections, the scars, the baldness

which she fears.

It’s as if she’s a different person.

Trapped in someone else’s body that she cannot claim as her own.

Am I pretty? She asks.

Probably not.

I don’t even know the definition

of the word sexy or hot.

Am I enough? She sighs.

Just look at these thunder thighs.

 

 

Curse word

Why do you whisper the word, “black,” as if it’s a derogatory term? Is it because you’re afraid of stirring up conversation? Does your whiteness color blind you to reality?

If you can’t even clearly say the term, “black,” as referring to a person of color in regular conversation…. does that imply that you can’t speak up during times of injustice? If you’re uncomfortable with soft dialogue, then you must be terrified of powerful rhetoric… of change… of social justice.

Make a choice. Black is not a curse word.

This isn’t pretty.

If I’m mad at God, does that make me a worthless person? At least it means I still believe in Him… just maybe not in the same way. I feel like He is just out to make me feel foolish so that I can come running back to the cross. So that I can claim my allegiance to Him. So He can have power over me. So He can say, “I told you so.” I hate that… Sometimes, I just feel so lost. I feel so alone. Sometimes, I wonder if I am okay with the thought of dying. I think so. I am not afraid of not existing anymore. I don’t even believe in the afterlife at this point. So, if I were to die, I think that would be alright.

But, I do think that it’s because I’m more afraid of being alive… of actually LIVING. Putting myself out there. Facing my, “fears.” Breaking this pattern of complacency. Trying new things. Meeting people. Having friends. Falling in love… I’m mad. Why can’t I just… be?