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Reality just hit. has offically moved to tumblr! See you there. :)

Reality just hit.

It has come to this.

It sucks when your anxieties are right. I kept silent for years because my anxieties continuously warned me that saying what was on my mind wouldn't end well. It would end with someone getting hurt. Finally voicing what has kept me awake at night tore everything apart even worse than I had anticipated, and now I'm stuck between feeling I did the right thing and feeling I royally fucked everything up. On some level, I'm at peace with my decision, because it's finally off my mind. On another level, I've opened myself up for a new set issues to grapple with. And I've never been good at grappling.

But ultimately, I'm done making excuses, and I'm done living in hopes that the fantasy world of my childhood will finally reach fruition. I can't stand around anymore waiting in uncertainty. There's no way to retrieve the past. There's only the glaring reality of the present to deal with, and I will make of it what I can. I will try not to let myself continue to be weighed down by what I cannot change.



Accompanying poem:
A matter of time.

Journaling: how it has helped me

Two years and three months ago today I started writing another journal. I don't mean a blog or something on the internet, but a physical, paper in a book and pen journal. I had written journals all the time as a kid, or had tried to. Back then they were mostly filled with things like, "today at school" or "this weekend with dad" type entires and were never consistent; I have tons of small journal books that have a few pages filled out and then nothing afterwards. I think most young people write journals like that. But on February 4th, 2010, when I started journaling again, I had something else in mind. While I might or might not write in it every day, it wasn't in an effort to record who I spent time with that day or what homework I had to do; it was in an effort to figure myself out. A last ditch effort to try and fix whatever was broken in me.

So I guess that begs the question, why talk about this journal now? Well, for one, it dawned on me how much (or how little) time had passed since I began that journal, and because yesterday I wrote on the last page in the physical book in which I have been journaling. When I wrote it, I also came to the realization that the journal fulfilled its purpose, even if it wasn't the way in which I had expected or wanted it to.

In writing this journal, I was wanting to write about a very specfic disorder that I have that I've dealt with since I was a young child and do not often talk about out of fear of judgement. Even now, I'm not going to mention the disorder, but what I am going to say is that when I started my last ditch effort, it was a last ditch effort to find a cure to the disorder. The disorder affects my life daily and back then it was far, far worse than it was now. It contributed to my depression, my thoughts of suicide and all the other troubles I was dealing with, and so I was desperate to find a way to get rid of it, to cure myself, because I felt like I couldn't function or be normal otherwise.

Without going into a lengthy description of everything I've written, I basically used the journal as a venting tool. Whenever my thoughts would start to spin or get out of control, I would just start writing it all down on paper, which not only helps to stop the spinning thoughts, but it also helps to create some clarity when I read or think about what I wrote. Being able to put it into a little bit more order has helped tremendously for me to identify different aspects of my actions, emotional state and pretty much everything.

I also took time to write about good days or when good things happened. Just as it's important to sort through the difficult times, knowing the good times is equally, if not more important. I think we tend to overlook the good things because we're not distressed or thinking about them. They just are, which is great, but when trying to remedy the bad, knowing the good is helpful, too.

So essentially, I recommend journaling. At least give it a try, because who knows, maybe it will work. It has been one of the agents in my "recovery," as it were. I have been able to make it through difficult times and I feel like I have been able to make a lot of good progress because of it. Of course, there is more to healing than simply journaling, but I believe it has played an integral role in getting me to where I am. I've been able to sort through some things and continue to do so, and more so, I've been able to make huge strides with the disorder I was talking about, which was my goal to begin with. Have I been "cured"? Not in the sense that I'm free of this disorder, but I think my change in perspective about everything is something great and maybe that could be considered a "cure" in it's own right.

Always someone better? Not comforting.

On tumblr and I suppose just around the internet in general I see a lot of posts along the lines of, "There's always going to be someone prettier, smarter, better at things" et cetera, et cetera, and while I get the message is intended to be that we should stop having anxiety and insecurities about these things because there will always be someone who outdoes us, I find no comfort in this statement. No strength, no hope. Rather, I find this kind of statement upsetting. Why? Because ultimately the comparison still exists. Because it feels then like whoever walks into my life is only settling on me, perhaps because that someone better is unattainable. You see my problem?

I'm not silly enough to think comparisons will simply cease to exist, especially in the mentality of the western world, but why am I not good enough just as I am? Why must there be someone better? Whether it's the truth or not is irrelevant. My point is that is not a source of comfort to be told that there is someone better. It doesn't inspire me to be more comfortable with myself, or to try and better myself, because by that logic, what's the point? There's always someone better anyway, no matter how good or how pretty or how successful I become.

I think we should value each person as he or she is, not how he or she compares to others. We should value each person for his own acheivements and successes and way of being. I think in the end, when we truly care about someone, it is about that--loving that person and caring about that person for who he is as himself, not in comparison to others. But before that point is reached, it seems to be all about how someone is always going to be better. Why can we not apply the same principle of individual value across the board? Why can we not empower each other for what we each have to offer?

No. Being told that someone else is always going to better me is not comforting. It's defeating.

My problem with individual emphasis.

To say that we're all the same would be ridiculous. Each of us has a different personality and differences about who we are, what we believe in, how we live our lives, and so on and so forth. I have no problem with that and I think it's beautiful. My problem is the emphasis on individuality and being different in the North America to the point where we separate ourselves from one another and we all become strangers to be avoided. It's not that we're different, but how we treat those from whom we are different--like they are lesser, like we have the right to berate them, like we have the right to try and tear them down. When we're so caught up in being different from the next guy, we seem to forget that that next guy is human, too. That he has sorrows and joys and a life that has value. It seems to me that we get so caught up in being different that some of us think that no one else has any worth, or at least not as much worth as we do.

This is seen with cliques, or really any different grouping, and not just in the high school sphere. To try and pin this all on children and teenagers is just as ridiculous as saything that we're all the same, if not moreso. Adults need to get off their high horses sometimes and realize that they can be just as bad when it comes to this sort of thing. Realize that when they don't like someone or are cruel to him just because he is different that they are participating in the same kind of bullying as young people do.

Being different is fine because if we really were all the same then it would be incredibly boring and there would, I think, be no point. But we can't forget one way in which we are all the same--that we're all human and that we all have life experiences. Just because someone is depressed doesn't mean that we should hate that person or make fun of them for being "emo"; likewise, if someone is happy doing something then we should not say that he or she is just stupid becuase we don't like whatever it is.

Somewhere along the line, we've lost connection with one another and another issue that arises from that is that we all seem to feel alone, and moreover that we're the only ones who are alone. It's not true. Society and our participation in its values of separation in this regard has told us that we shouldn't confide in each other and go to each other for support, especially if we are not of the same group or don't have the same likes and dislikes, and we follow suit. Of course I'm speaking in generalities, since there are those of us who disregard this principle entirely, but for the most part, we're all about isolating ourselves and tearing each other down.

We need to regain this connection and remind each other that we are human, that we can help one another, and that each of our lives has value.

wearTWLOHA

On March 30th, 2006, the first t-shirt for To Write Love On Her Arms was worn, and since then thousands are wearing these t-shirts. So TWLOHA asked us, why do you wear TWLOHA t-shirts and merchandise? Here's my response. (posted on both my blogspot and tumblr accounts)

In another of my blog entries, I mentioned how I don't really remember how I came across TWLOHA; all I know is that from the get-go it hit me in the best way possible. This picture shows the first t-shirt that I purchased from TWLOHA with the lyrics of Satellite's "Ring the Bells" on it. I was going through a really rough time when I purchased this t-shirt and the song struck home with me. This lyric in particular made me feel stronger somehow, like even if things were rough, at least I was still breathing. There was still hope.

Now I wear my TWLOHA shirts and accessories to try and spread that message of hope. Some wear it to share their own stories, but I'm not there yet. Bit by bit I'm getting closer, but right now I really want to spread the message of hope. I remember days when I'll just be feeling terrible and I'll come across a positive quote that TWLOHA has posted on their facebook page or on twitter and the day will seem just a bit brighter. Or I'll listen to one of the songs that their staff and interns share every Friday on tumblr and it will speak to me on the same level that "Ring the Bells" did when I first came across this fantastic organization.

I want other to know that there is hope and that things can get better if you just work towards it and have patience. There are people out there who love you and who care for you, even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes. You're not alone. Even if we don't all have the same story, we can find peace in knowing that our stories are valid. One of my favourite quotes from TWLOHA is, "We can't know your pain, but we can say that it matters." That to me is such a powerful statement. In a world where we're so keen on invalidating each other, to say that no, your pain does in fact matter, is so promising and heartwarming.

On some level, TWLOHA saved my life. I found strength and hope in this organization, and maybe from wearing a t-shirt or a bracelette or a dogtag, or even the tattoo "love" that I got on my left wrist, I can connect with someone else or help them find a source of hope, too. :)

The Self-Injury Stigma

Here we have March 1st rolling around again, and with it comes Self-Injury Awareness day. I've been debating back and forth to myself for a couple weeks as to whether I would have something to say about it, or whether I would just stick with my banner on facebook and grabbing whatever orange I have and wearing it. I just didn't know quite what I would talk about when it came to SI Awareness, even though it's something that I feel strongly about for a number of reasons. Finally, during crunch time in the hours before the clock flips to March 1st, 2012, I decided what I could speak about.

I feel like there are so many negative stereotypes and ideas about self-injury that those who deal with it are shamed into silence, lest they face the ridicule and disdain of their peers. What I mean is, that when someone is a self-injurer, he or she is no longer his-/herself, but rather a set of stereotypes that can't be escaped. Self-injurers are "emo" kids who simply whine and wear black makeup and are anti-social and suicidal, and yet only want attention as they post dark photos and write poem after poem about how no one likes them and how pretty their blood is. The fact that there are sites like "gocryemokid" on memebase.com that plays on these negative stereotypes just proves what the general image of "emo" kids are.

But this isn't about "emo" kids. This is about self-injurers, who are people from all walks of life, with all different kinds of personalities and all different kinds of problems. There's more to self-injury than just cutting (what I mean is there are other forms of SI), and more to it than just causing physical pain. I firmly believe that all forms of self-injury stem from disorders because it doesn't make sense to me otherwise. I don't understand why someone would want to hurt himself without it being some sort of disorder, and certainly self-injury makes life disorderly. Many might be crying out now that they bring the disorder upon themselves, but really and truly, it's not about attention grabbing. I don't know of a single self-injurer who would ask for this or wish it upon anyone else and indeed many wish they could stop themselves. But it takes up the language of addictions where there are periods of recovery, being clean and relapse. It's not a gimick, and it's not a ruse. These are real struggles.

And yet there's still the stigma, as if those problems don't exist and only the stereotype is real. People don't seem to want to look past the images that have been put out there about self-injurers and see the people behind them. Instead, there's a shamed silence and a feeling of isolation because to self-injure is to be some sick and twisted individual. It's all negative. Rather than showing support and trying to help, it's easier to mock and berate.

To ask a non-self-injurer to understand might be a stretch, because for all I say that we should try and understand each other, sometimes we just can't. For instance, I personally don't understand how someone could be a cutter. The idea just makes me cringe from the imagined pain because all I can think about is when I get papercuts and how much those hurt. I can only imagine how much worse cutting would be. But even though I can't understand the desire to cut, I can sympathize. What I can understand is the need for an outlet and even for a sense of control, even if I don't understand the outlet chosen.

What I think I'm trying to get at with this jumbled mess of ideas and borderline rambling is that we should take the time to look past the disorder and to the person. Like I said, it could be anyone. It could be your best friend, who otherwise seems perfectly "fine" and "normal," but is really struggling with this in silence. It could be your boyfriend, because, yes, males self-injure, too. It could be your mother, a co-worker, or someone you wouldn't expect. Self-injury isn't just some teenage phase with a hoard of youngsters whining about their lives that seem relatively easy from the outside world. You can just never know for sure who is suffering and why or even to what extent. And yet I have a feeling that many who self-injure wish they could just come forward and be honest and open about it, and ultimately ask for your love and support.

Rather than judging and apply stigma, let us instead be supportive, loving and willing to help. The fear of losing those around you because of something that is so shamed is hard to deal with, and I think that's why many keep silent, too. There's so much negativity surrounding self-injury that there's a sense of inevitability that of course everyone will judge and abandon because of it, so it's better to shut up. But if we open up dialogue and make it okay to need help and okay to share these kinds of things, I think the stigma will disappear and the shame with it.

Somehow, I feel like I haven't done this topic justice and that this entry is sporadic. It's just such a complicated matter though, especially without going into details and proving a personal story as I usually do, but in this instance I am going to refrain. Have I know self-injurers? Yes. But in this case, because of the very stigma that I am talking about, I don't feel comfortable providing a personal account of anything or anyone. Maybe someday, but not now.

For now, going to wear lots of orange, post this entry and spread the love.

<3