It was painfully obvious once I put two and two together.
All this time I've been wondering what to do with my one precious life. All this time I've been wondering how to stand out in a sea of increasing stress and standard trajectories. Finally, I've found my clarity of mind, soul, and body.
As I move into the new year and anticipate starting a new job, I reconsidered my future career paths and realized that I don't have an overwhelming desire to be an administrator or policymaker in the very near future. Though I continue to intend to implement a plan for community schools, I want to approach it by first being a part of the community, in a real and impactful way. While it would be nice to make a six figure salary and wear heavy coats in a leadership position, the more pressing matter is the good, honest, and necessary work of being a teacher. The process of becoming a teacher has already taught me so much and will eventually make me a better policymaker. I know that living the classroom experience will only broaden my understanding of modern education systems in a way that I could not obtain through any of my policy internships or workplaces. Despite my reservations about taking a significant pay cut, the desire to be a highly accomplished person and being a classroom teacher are not mutually exclusive.
I'm finished applying to teaching programs now, and as much as I'm full of hope, I'm also full of apprehension. Though rationally I know I'm well qualified, the imposter syndrome rages in the background amidst pandemic anxiety and financial insecurity. The fear is paralyzing, and for three days, I wasted away, indulging in avoidance mechanisms. When I finally reconciled my fear of the forthcoming unknowns with my confidence in myself, I found the strength to move forward in a powerful way. Cut out the baggage, focus on what's important. Venture boldly, buoyed by a reasonable self assurance. It is still a confusing time (and admittedly, I'm struggling with conveying my ideas through words in this post), but I trust that the fog will lift eventually. In Sacramento, I'm a ship in the harbor. I'm safe here, but I'm not meant to stay here forever. It will always be here for me if I need to come back, but I crave adventure and discovery and constant new experiences. I'm ready to take on the new year. ◊
Without a doubt, 2020 has been a most disappointing year so far, the furthest from living up to my expectations for it. What should have been an experience of reaching new heights in my career, social life, and personal health has instead become one of unemployment (I exaggerate, I'm freelancing now), isolation, and misery. This time last year, I was in a hotel suite after a most perfect day at Disneyland. Today, I am alone at home, desperately wishing to be close to those who love me.
I arrive in my mid-twenties in the midst of a pandemic, the world locked down in quarantine (or it should be if everyone follows the rules). Clearly, everything is different now. The goals I had set for myself require adjustment. The unsustainable habits and beliefs I have grown into must be re-examined. Again and again and again I muse about my identity. I am forced to assume that this is the meaning of life, to build and improve and rebuild one's identity endlessly.
All things considered, I'm not doing so badly. I am in no danger of losing my apartment, I am finding work in graphic and web design, and I talk to my friends fairly regularly. Yet why do I still feel like I am scrambling to cling to a foundation of security that is inches away from dissolving into the void? What paradigm shift must I undertake to finally feel at ease?
My anxieties at conflict with each other are the fear of meeting new people and the fear of being alone. When my life structure aligned with other people's structures in high school and college, this was not as much of an issue. I was at once easily immersed in relationships where commonalities were high and the barriers of entry were not. It was easy to meet new people and it was easy to not be alone. Now, as an adult, and especially in quarantine, it is beyond difficult to meet new people and all too easy to be alone. Physical isolation is less of an issue as the psychological torment of wondering if anyone cares about me — would anyone notice at all if I died? I hadn't realized this would be as much of an issue for me as it is, but I'm really starting to question — am I as truly as comfortable with myself as I thought I was?
Whether I want to or not, the time has come to make peace with myself and the decisions that brought me here. It is difficult, to be weaned off the closeness of childhood, still desperate to latch on to the warmth of other people. I thought I had flown the nest when I moved out on my own; while I may have physically done so, emotionally and mentally I still have a ways to go. I suppose this is all part of growing up: having so much distance and building the maturity it takes to accept it. I don't know how much longer this lockdown will last, but while it lasts, I might as well accept that loneliness is an inevitable part of life. Even when I was in D.C., I was still around other people more than I realized. I can't be certain that this will be the only time in my life that I am on my own, so if I want to survive it, I'm going to have to figure out how. ◊
I started this post a year ago (5/5/2019!) after settling down for a day to watch Ingrid Goes West. I don't even know how this movie had crossed my mind, but it seemed familiar as it stars Aubrey Plaza, in a role very different than that of her Parks and Rec character, and Elizabeth Olsen, who I love in the Marvel movies. I'm not here to offer a critique or synopsis of the movie, though I do recommend it. I might have to rewatch it to figure out what I meant by some of the commentary I wrote a year ago. For example, "Quite frankly, I'm very tired despite not doing anything or going anywhere all day, and I'm dreading the thought of hitting "Publish" on a post that I know is sub-par, writing quality-wise." This much is still true, except now we are in the middle of a coronavirus induced stay-at-home order. Times change, but apparently a lot of things in my life stay the same. Unedited text from last year's draft will be italicized for context.
What I do want to do is explore some thoughts re: the key message of the film as a critique of social media, particularly Instagram. I vaguely remember using Instagram a long long time ago, and even then, barely engaging. But even without Instagram, I see startling similarities in my life to Ingrid's, in that the inability to connect in real life leads to a crippling dependence on my phone. This of course is a key driver to the plot of the movie, but what separates Ingrid and me is the film's key message: the condemnation of the influencers and influences.
There are no heroes in the story. Ingrid, determined to find the joy she sees splashed across her Insta feed, psychotically copies the life of Taylor, her muse, but when Ingrid is exposed for her fraud, she realizes that Taylor's life is just as superficially constructed. Authenticity is a sham! Unexpectedly, her disillusioned suicide attempt brings her the online attention and validation she had hoped to gain by copying Taylor's lifestyle. The film ends abruptly — Ingrid's desire for influence is fulfilled, but not the bigger question of dependence on social media.
Such is the way of the social media profile. To craft a persona, to build an identity — who cares if none of it is really how it is all the time. That aspirational highlight reel designed to inspire jealousy and sell a product; it's easy to get caught up. After all, who doesn't wish their life were picture perfect?
I've restarted using Instagram in an effort to stay connected to friends during the COVID-19 quarantine. In a way, the lockdown has been good for my social anxiety, since I don't find myself mired in FOMO and guilt over not being as social as I think I should be. Everyone else is presumably doing the same thing I am, which is staying at home doing nothing. I've also found myself with more time on my hands than I really know what to do with. The job I was supposed to start at the beginning of April didn't work out because of corona-times, among other reasons. I'm not too anxious about this either, since a lot of people are also now unemployed due to the crisis. As far as joblessness goes, this is actually one of the best times to be unemployed.
But this extra time has forced me once again to reflect on who I am and what I want. The brief foray into consulting was clearly a wrong move. Though the two month gap on my resume feels awkward, I'm glad I had that experience sooner than later. I can't imagine going into consulting and hating it at a later point in my career. I feel reassured that education policy advocacy is the right field for me at this time, but the opportunities are so limited for where I want to be. I'm not an entry level applicant anymore, but I'm nowhere near experienced enough to be an independent advocate or high level director. Maybe I should take a step back and consider grad school more seriously for this year. Maybe I should consider going into teaching (a whole other mess unto itself).
Thankfully, there are things outside of work that I have had time to explore to expand my personal interests. I started an apartment garden in a planter on the second floor walkway outside my door. My room is filled with ferns and plants. I've been painting again, starting with portraits of all of my friends' cats. If I can get around to it, I want to clean up, fix, and ride my bike more. And of course, I'm getting back into blogging. These things are genuine expressions of my identity that I'm growing into, not just the travel and polaroids with friends memorialized on my Instagram.
Moreover, I want to be clear that this blog should not be taken as a means of influence either. I've had a friend recommend that I could do thinkpieces and discuss my ideas if I want more people to read this blog, but that's not the point. This blog is not about finding myself. This blog is about making myself. I am a brand new person, free to be and believe and do and love and explore whatever I like. I am neither trying to influence anyone or be influenced by anyone. My life is an open book that few people will ever find or read. The purpose of this blog is to express my thoughts in conversation with myself, a digital diary to capture my exact state of mind at a point in time, and to dull the aching grind of the process of living a bit. This blog reaffirms my internal validation, that I myself am enough, with or without being seen by other people, for better or for worse. I can be meaningful, without feeling like I need to be more than I am. ◊
Somehow, I'm still only one year older since my last post. It feels like it's been a lifetime, as I've changed my name, graduated, traveled to Greece, moved to Sacramento, finished my last internship, got a job, traveled to Chicago, lived with an old lady with Alzheimer's, moved into my own apartment, and finally seemingly achieved all I ever wanted and hoped to be by this point in my life.
Yet still, somehow, I'm not happy.
Of course, it's a process. It takes time to get to know people and make friends and get used to my new situation. It's only been just over a year. I finally have time to figure out what I want to do — an overabundance, if anything. I haven't learned to slow down yet, I'm still the instant gratification type, looking for the next big thing in my life to achieve. I'm eager to be at that place where everything is exciting, but I'm too scared to start doing the things that would make it exciting. Of course, there's also the issue of money and transportation, but even the things that wouldn't require additional investment still terrify me sometimes. Every Thursday, I drag myself to free yoga at the library, rain or shine, in the hopes that my regular presence can inspire some like minded person to reach out. It's a first step, and it's easier to hope that someone talks to me, but eventually I'm going to have to own up to the fact that I could be doing more. A therapist would certainly help, but all the ones I've contacted so far either don't take my insurance or aren't available for new patients. I think I've finally reached a tipping point in my solitude that without any new external input or outlets soon, I might break down.
That's definitely not something fun to think about, and it's not a realization I would have made without blogging. A conscious flow of words, with or without an audience, has yet again brought a small amount of comfort to this introvert in her lonesome. Hello blog. Hello myself. ◊
My friend Wei-Wei was making green beans the other day, and we talked about how green beans are so good, so wholesome, any way you cook them. I hadn't had any in a while, so our conversation inspired me to get some. As I was meal prepping the chicken, potatoes, and green beans, I was struck by a sudden wave of nostalgia in the middle of preparing the beans. It wasn't quite uncomfortable, but I was slightly shaken by the intensity of the feeling. For what only feels like a split second, I am six years old, sitting on a little wooden stool on the backyard deck, the sun on my shoulders and on the worn, musty wood, making everything smell warm. The AC unit is humming behind me, a slight breeze occasionally rustles the leaves on the vine canopy beneath the balcony. I'm with my mom, and we're snapping green beans, pinching off the ends and then snap! snap! snap! breaking the beans down into small, same-sized segments. Sometimes we talk, about school, about summer; sometimes it's silent. When we're done, my mom takes the strainer full of beans inside to cook, and I sprint down three stairs, out the gate with the bell, and look for roly-polies while I wait for the food to be ready. Soon, the fragrant smells of green beans cooked with pork wafts out of the kitchen, and I run back in without being called. A spatula of sticky rice in a bowl, the green beans and pork and all the juices on top, running into the rice, first to shove into my mouth with complete disregard of etiquette, and then to savor. I always ask to leave some for the next day; I still maintain that leftover green beans and pork tastes even better as the flavors have had more time to sink in.
Then it's back to my task. I finish prepping the green beans, and it's time to cook. I don't have pork, so I make a mental note to myself to pick up some bacon the next time I decide to cook green beans. I inexpertly tend to three large skillets, the struggle of trying not to burn anything burying those memories as quickly as they were unearthed. The food turns out okay, but it's a shame I didn't have pork.
Later that night, I remembered it was also the day of my little sister's birthday, and even though I called her, I couldn't think of a single thing to say. I struggled to figure out how old she was, mistaking her birth year for that of my little brother at first. I felt terrible, but sometimes I forget I have a family. It's been over two years since I've lived with them, a tenth of my life. The one thing that is more or less a constant structural support in most people's lives does not exist in my personal landscape. Usually, hearing my parents' voice is a source of anxiety, and is something I happily do without. Most of the time, I don't feel like I'm missing something. But sometimes, there are little moments, like when I'm snapping green beans, that I think about what could have been, what I had before, but not anymore. ◊
I started this post a few weeks ago, quite optimistic and determined to reaffirm the sense of being fiercely independent that I so value by reveling in the fact that I would be ringing in my birthday alone. I had never really celebrated my birthday as a child. My parents wouldn't throw birthday parties for me, saying they were costly or too much hassle. In fact, my mother eventually started saying that I should be celebrating her on my birthday because she gave birth to me. I stopped enjoying my birthday because it was a reminder that I owed my existence to someone else.
I don't owe anyone anything. To acknowledge that fact, I wanted to make my birthday my own holiday dedicated to myself, a celebration of my own existence for my own existence's sake. I wanted to enter my twenties a completely independent person. I wanted to work on self love, learning to appreciate myself, building a perfectly consolidated identity.
But what I've suddenly realized is quite simple — I've already spent twenty years being independent. It's time I break out of my shell and connect with people, difficult as that is for little introvert me. I'm not going to develop an identity in a vacuum, and what is a perfect idea of self anyway? Some people in life aren't meant to stay forever, but hopefully they'll teach me something about myself. It will be painful, and awkward, and I might get hurt if I trust the wrong people, but that's all part of the identity-building.
Maybe someday I'll need to reconnect with my sense of independence again. I have a tendency to overcorrect, so it's possible that I end up placing too much of my identity in my relationships with others, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. For now, I am confident in my autonomy, and I'm ready to enter a new decade with a new approach to my place in the world. ◊
"I give up on relationships," I say, lamenting my lack of banal relationship drama so wonderfully evident between Wei-Wei and Daniel. Without skipping a beat, Wei-Wei retorts, "That's dumb."
I'm nineteen. I can't give up already, can I?
This post has been a long time in the making, but the issue really came to a head last night when I found out my roommate has a girlfriend. I'm in a new city, I don't know a lot of people, and at the very least I was hoping to be able to hang out with my roommate and explore DC. But nope, she spends her evenings Skyping her SO. Cue me going to bed and reading articles on being happily single (and yes being single is great, but more on that later). A heads up, this post is going to be long and rambly because I've tried to edit it so many times, so I'm putting it under a cut.
If I don't decide to go back someday and delete any old posts, this will be my 300th blog post to date. It's astounding how long I've managed to maintain this blog and post on a somewhat regular basis. I feel like I've put off editing this draft for a long time because it does reflect on some heavier topics, but it needs to be said. I'm currently sitting in a library at UC Davis (visiting Wei-Wei!) with nothing else to do for a few hours anyway. All the events on my schedule so far have been checked off — blood work, Teach For America interview, housing, internship prep — and soon I'll start packing for my new apartment and D.C. I'm looking forward to my summer even though I was initially hesitant that I wouldn't be doing enough of a "prestigious" internship. If anything, this semester has taught me not to overcommit myself. Additionally, I have five essays to make up, and I want to enjoy and sightsee in D.C. as well. Besides, non-profit work in D.C. should be very engaging politically.
This summer has started off on an incredibly happy note. My friend Madison graduated, a year early similar to my own plan, and we went to the beach to celebrate surviving finals together. We headed out via public transport to Ocean Beach in SF. It was excessively windy, but warm. I felt like a child again as I waded through the gentle, but bitingly cold, waves. We dug around for sand crabs for a bit before moving further up the beach into warmer sands. It might have been too comfortable as I ended up falling asleep for two hours. I thought I escaped the sun unscathed but unfortunately woke up the next morning with a very angry red sunburn on the back of my legs. That was a week ago, but you can still see the purplish patches on my legs even now.
I honestly don't know if I'll ever see Madison again now that she's graduated, but something she said to me will stick for a very long time: "I don't know what you'll do in the future — it could be big things or little things — but I do know it will be good things." Coming from someone who's only known me for a semester, yet said with so much conviction, her words renew my resolve to strive to be a good person despite my habituations based in toxic defense mechanisms. Sometimes it's weird to realize that so many things in my life have been not normal. A friend offered to help me figure out my insurance and lease and bank account; in the process I realized that my parents had been neglecting to provide me healthcare except in the most extreme cases all my childhood. I didn't know how a lot of these things worked for most people. It turns out, insurance is pretty straightforward and is not as much of a hassle as my parents made it out to be.
As much as I have an idea of what I'm doing in life, I'm still working on figuring out who I am and how life works. Easy things to start with are exercise and eating right; harder still are interpersonal relationships and being a decent human being. I'm in a constant process of unlearning toxicity: my manipulative tendencies, my selfishness, my carelessness for other people's feelings. These things developed as protective mechanisms against abusive parents, but as I move into a new stage of life removed from these negative inputs, I feel ready to get help for my mental health problems via long term counseling and medication if necessary. Medication will probably depend on what happens when I go to get a diagnosis. I think that it is likely bipolar II, which is effectively treatable with lithium. Right now I feel very stable but the past few weeks have proved that things can spiral very quickly, very intensely, especially after contact with my parents. I'm seriously considering going no contact after I graduate. Maybe someday I can reconcile with them, but right now there is some need to maintain a separation. Just the other day my mother called me and started to guilt trip me, bringing up hurtful things that happened over a decade ago. My core anxiety is based in the belief that maybe they were right all along and they're wonderful people and I'm simply too sensitive and ungrateful. Of course, there is plenty of evidence otherwise, but I think therapy is necessary to help me fully accept my circumstances.
Sometimes I am frustrated by how these things outside of my control have hampered my ability to live fully. I wonder what I'd be able to accomplish if I had a different childhood, one that didn't leave a burden of mental health problems and trauma. Honestly, either way, I'm probably going to live a fairly unremarkable life. But as long as I can live a life with integrity and always work on self improvement, that seems pretty good. I'm working on accepting the in-betweens: I am not perfect, but I am not a horrible person either. I'm generally a decent human being, but I have my flaws. My environment is not perfect either, but I must accept that this is life. Sometimes my schedule isn't ideal. Sometimes I need to have time to do other things. I can't anticipate all of the things life throws at me, but I can accommodate when there is time in schedule. And yes, maybe I'll be a bit bored, but that's probably better than dying of obligations I can't handle when my mental health downswings. I need to have time for my hobbies, to go out and have fun, to be there for my friends. I have as much control of my life as to not give up on my ideals and not give up on addressing my shortcomings, and as far as I'm concerned, that's not settling.
There is time still for figuring out how to be a responsible adult. I have a year left of college but I'm already excited to graduate and live my life on my own terms. The dream is to get an apartment, get a cat, and work out all the technical details from there. The soft skills, like organization, perseverance, resilience, I have down already. Ideally there will be time and money for personal endeavors and all the things I want to do, like traveling and painting. Above all, the autonomy of living on my own will allow me to continue to develop my identity. I think it's safe to say that I spend an above average amount of time drowned in introspection, but there's so much more to understand about myself.
With this dream comes the urge to completely start afresh and isolate from everything I know now. Granted there are some people who I do need to distance myself from, but despite my insecurities, I need to remember I do have real friends who care for me, even if they don't show it all the time. Consequently, I am making an effort to appreciate my friends who are there for me even when I'm not able to be a good friend. They are so important in part because they represent positive external reinforcement to validate the internal thought processes around the good and bad aspects of my life. I am capable of validating myself but sometimes it is exhausting, and it is ok to let others help. Furthermore it is necessary to reciprocally support them too, especially during times like finals when everyone is stressed. My deficient mental health is not an excuse to hurt people, ever, and if there are inadvertent consequences, it is my responsibility to make sure that my friends are ok too, as soon as I am able.
On a final note regarding mental health, in honor of Mental Health Awareness Month, I'm moving toward a more realistic approach to handling my mental health. I'm going to have to accept that it takes more time and energy than I'm currently allowing myself to expend. I'm trying to convince myself that it's the responsible thing to do to actively maintain my mental health instead of ignoring it, letting it fester and deteriorate to the point of crisis. When I write it out like that, it does indeed sound reasonable, but for some reason I can't help but feel like I'm being lazy or making excuses when I'm in the midst of a mental health trough. For some reason I feel like I don't deserve the extensions and accommodations; it's difficult to accept that this is my reality when I want it to be different. A part of my reality is that I need to stop and think, "Hmmm, I'm feeling vaguely suicidal, maybe something is wrong and I should stop," instead of feeling like I'm deficient for feeling that way and getting more stressed. I want to work but my brain is not able and I don't know why. I don't have an excuse, because this is not an excuse. It's time I show myself the sympathy I would show for other people. ◊
There's something about bleeding out between the legs that makes one confront the inherent futility of human hopes and aspirations. The confines of an earthly existence dictate that the function of my body is to reproduce, and if that is not a desirable goal for me, then really, what is the point? Right now what I overwhelmingly want is to leave everything behind and travel the world. Is that sustainable? Is that even what I really want?
I'm tired of waiting for my life to begin: after this essay, after this semester, after this year, after graduating, after working for two years, after grad school, after ever after. Why do I rarely feel like I'm enjoying life right now? I'm scared I'm going to waste my life away waiting for the time to finally feel ready to do the things I want, and end up like this Humans of New York post:
Every so often, when I am faced with overwhelming stress, I confront this crisis. Luckily, having experienced it time and time again, I am certain of two fundamental conclusions: the meaning of life is to be happy (however you may define that), and everything will be okay. After finishing three midterm essays this week and waking up the next morning with new Lorde to listen to, I realize that it's not an issue of having time to do what I want. It's a habit — a lifestyle. Right now even though I have time to do what I want, I don't even know what to do. So from this point forward, I want to commit to doing what I want, even if I feel like I don't have time. I shouldn't deprive myself of the little things that make me happy just because I feel obligated to do work all the time. The time will still pass, the assignments will still be completed, albeit a bit later, but those missed opportunities will never come back. I can be busy and miserable about it, or be busy and enjoy what I can. After all, I'm still in a point in my life where I have a safety net to fall back onto if anything does go terribly wrong. Carpe diem, go for your goals, live boldly, it doesn't matter how you phrase it, the point is to not let life slip away waiting for the next break. I'm hoping I can embrace that lifestyle and enjoy life in the moment. ◊
Today was an emotionally intense day. I got home after class ended early. My cohabitants have finally washed the dishes in the sink, and I am fueled by caffeine and fast food. The fire alarm started blaring for the third time in a month, and is still going off intermittently; I didn't bother to leave. Classes are kicking my butt, but I'm simultaneously loving life. I'm taking five upper division classes, with essay assignments for all of them. Whereas in lower divs I could coast through with moderate effort, every single assignment now requires substantial, clear, deliberate thought and sharp analysis. This semester is the tipping point — every day a knife edge — honing my ambition and forging my mettle. It is the Glory and Gore, equal parts wordplay and swordplay, as I fight to keep up mentally and physically. At times, I feel as though I've bitten off more than I can chew. But I'm handling it. I have a set schedule, I've established a self care regimen, and I've optimized my time as much as I can, even if I'm not 100% there yet.
Just as I start to feel beat down, after three years, she's has returned — the queen, the goddess, the one and only Lorde. My skin is clear, I am alive again, my motivation is restored. "Green Light" is a triumphant comeback, with an intense, frenetic energy to it. It is exactly what I need right now, given that this entire semester has been quite intense and frenetic. There's a feeling that something has changed, that life is somehow more perilous, more real.
This Mic article references one of Lorde's Facebook posts, where she describes the new album as a step away from "enshrining our teenage glory." It's a completely different tone from the muted depression in Pure Heroine; this single sounds much more mature, a reflection of "her first year of independent adult living." I think it's quite fitting with the timeline of my life, given that she's little more than a year older than me. I, too, am reveling in those last dregs of irreverent teenhood, as I embrace the challenges and joys of my own transition into "independent adult living."
It's a breakup song, singing about "brand new sounds in my mind." Opportunities abound, am I capable enough to seize them? Metaphorically, I'm at a point in life where I'm ready to break up with my doubts, my insecurities, things about who I was that I didn't like. I've done as much as I can to prepare; I'm revved up and ready to go —
"I'm waiting for it, that green light, I want it." ◊
The first result in Google Images for "success" is the picture above. It suggests an interesting meaning, that success is tantalizingly close, but never in grasp. You want it, but you don't even know what it looks like. Such is my current "existential crisis," in the aftermath of recent political changes and personal academic shortcomings. To get right into it, I found myself again questioning why I'm running myself through the gauntlet and ending up profoundly unhappy. What am I doing and why? What do I want?
Ultimately, I want to be happy. In terms of the simple pleasures that matter to me in the long term, I want to devote time to cultivating my aesthetic, my plants; a cat in a sunshine filled room; an art studio in the corner; I want to travel, to create and consume art, to be healthy, and not have to scrimp on self care; I want to do work that is meaningful to me, and perhaps ultimately make a noticeable difference in the world for the better. But lately, I have begun to despair that those things are no longer achievable, maybe due to insecurity about the job market. Should I aim a little lower? If I do, am I settling? Am I getting complacent? What does that even mean?
For most people, going to school in Berkeley is "success" in that traditional sense. Beyond that, I'm not so sure anymore. In terms of career, I have no desire to earn a million dollar salary, or become a politician, or own a business, or be a celebrity. "Success" feels a little different in the field of education — it means accepting very little recognition for weaving the background work that keeps schools running. But it's not very exciting or impressive to say, "I want to be a school district superintendent," when someone asks what you want to do with your life.
But that career IS what I want, so why am I worried about settling for it? The one thing that I vaguely wanted to "be when I grow up" was a teacher. This is best aligned with what I believe is a fulfilling life. I think I'd be immensely happy working with students as a school administrator. So why am I chasing a vague idea of accomplishment that doesn't even exist? Why do I think I'm settling when I don't know what is defined as settling?
Arguably, the position of Federal Secretary of Education is probably the highest "achievable" position, but two steps below that is "superintendent," and one step below that is "school principal." Have I somehow twisted "Achieving what I want" into "Settling" simply because there exists something that I know I cannot have? I can't bear the thought of being mediocre, yet realistically, there is very little difference between myself and any other person. Very few people are truly extraordinary, and in my chosen career path, there is next to no likelihood of ever achieving renown. How have I made my definition of "settling" something that is beyond most people's definition of success? Will I ever be satisfied?
Maybe this warped perception of reality goes back to my parents and somehow still wanting to win their approval. But I already know I'm never going to, so why am I still worried? Maybe I fear that I'm never going to be independent from them. At this point what I want most is autonomy, and when that doesn't seem realistic, I start to question my own choices. Above all, I want to live my life on my own terms, and not by anyone else's definition. I feel pressured to make something amazing out of my life, and I've internalized that pressure without knowing if that's what I want, to the point where trying to tear myself away from that yearning feels so wrong.
Everyone has a need for validation to some degree. In terms of my relationship to my parents, it is feasible for me to surpass a threshold of material success that quantifiably exceeds their standards, thus getting that pressure off of my back. But for the rest of it, I feel like I'm running around in circles chasing the idea of "success," when "success" doesn't exist.
Personal satisfaction, however, does. When life makes you run around in circles, you won't necessarily get to a better place, but you can build your personal endurance and physical fitness. Settling is stopping, while success is continuing to move forward. For me, settling means simply subsisting and being selfish, giving up on my aspirations to make the world a better place. As long as I keep moving forward and go for my goals, I will be okay. ◊
Every once in a while I get hit with that "OH MY GOD I'M WASTING MY LIFE AWAY" feeling. To feel productive, I end up redesigning my blog, going for a cleaner, svelte look. I kept the basic layout, but I tightened up a few things with the fonts and the header. I'll admit, I may have oversimplified it a bit, so it is woefully plain, in my opinion. Overall I'm fairly satisfied with how it looks, but I know eventually I want to upgrade to a dynamic theme for a more professional look. And the code itself is probably a mess, but that's ok. Welcome to Mythos et Regia V3.2!
It also happens to be the end of the year! There's something promising about the start of a new calendar year, despite the fact that it's entirely arbitrary in the grand scheme of things. As usual, I'd like to take a moment to reflect on previous resolutions and establish some new goals.
Two years ago, I set the goal of "Mindful Body Wellness," aka, establish an idea of basic human healthy habits because I really didn't have any before. This past year was "Core Self," or, who am I? It meant a lot to me to figure it out because I can't know what I want without knowing who I am.
Honestly these concepts are pretty abstract and not resolutions as much as they are general concepts to be aware of. It's like the distinction between themes and main ideas in high school essays. These phrases are the "theme" of the year; resolutions are main ideas. For example, under the theme of Mindful Body Wellness, I had the main ideas of skin care, eating right, and exercise. Core Self consisted of less focus on other people's opinions, more focus on my identity, and ultimately, being comfortable with who I am. Though it was not a goal I explicitly worked on, I have found that my experiences and internal struggles this year have been very conducive to figuring out my identity. Most importantly, I have learned that I am the only one who can define who I am.
2017 will be the year of "Defining Direction": taking concrete steps to achieve what I want — to really be the person I want to be. Most notably of these steps are getting a job to move towards financial independence, getting my license so I have mobility, and learning the social conventions of how to be a "real" adult (like how to do taxes) so I'm not completely lost by the time I graduate. Other little things are like how to set a table for a dinner party, and heck, maybe even figuring out how dating and relationships work. I'm feeling surprisingly optimistic about this goal because it is more concrete, so it'll be easier to gauge progress.
Unfortunately, I have neither the time nor resources right now to be who I really want to be. Eventually I'd like to be more of a person in terms of things I do outside of studying and work: drawing/painting/art, swimming/stretching/exercising, healthy cooking, smoothie-making, personal style expression, engaging in new experiences. Not the things I have to do, but the things I want to do. Being alone in the apartment this winter break has only bolstered my enjoyment of living independently. I can't wait until I have my own little place, with my room set up just so, a workspace, a corner to paint in, etc. Until then, "Defining Direction" will be laying the foundation to reach that point.
Seeing the positive trend as my semesters progress, I'm hoping that it continues into greater fulfillment this next year. It'll also be a huge milestone age wise, as I move out of teenager-hood and into the realm of the twenty-something (scary!).
Despite the last few posts, the issue of my identity is still a thorn in my side from time to time. As it is indeed the thick of "cuffing season" and I realize literally everyone around me is in a relationship and I am again the single friend, the issue this time is my relationships, or lack thereof.
Especially in the midst of finals week, when I'm stressed and something is bothering me, I tend to spiral, ending up unproductive and in a mental dump until I figure out what's wrong. This particular issue came up during dinner with my freshman year roommate, who was adamant that most people are not asexual and therefore I'm going to end up forever alone, or with very slim chances of finding a successful relationship (not actually what she said, I'm hyperbolizing to get the point across). That bothered me, because I've never considered sex to be an important part of a relationship and cannot fathom how it is for some people. But I don't want to be forever alone based on that fact solely.
Because I'm so far removed from thinking about sex and sexual attraction, the issue of sexual identity has never been relevant. I think it's a common realization among asexuals to not care about sexuality, or to feel like they don't have a sexuality; to label the absence of something is just awkward. Having to "come out" as asexual this summer to a group of coworkers, it was just a weird experience because I don't strongly identify with that label.
While the label is still odd to accept, I have no problem being asexual. I've always thought of it as a lack of preference like any other, like not enjoying Brussels sprouts or tea. But given that sex seems to be such a big deal to most other people, it's hard not to feel broken. In my conversation with my roommate, while she was well meaning for the sake of being informative, hearing that I could be unwanted based on not wanting sex really broke me down.
I was surprised to find my relief in the form of a Youtuber, Ricky Dillon. I don't subscribe to his genre of video, but in desperation tonight, I searched "asexuality" on Youtube and found this:
Youtube has long been a space where people have been comfortable expressing themselves and coming out as gay, bi, lesbian, so on and so forth — but I've never been able to relate to those videos. For a while I thought I might be bi because I didn't have a preference for one gender over another, but I realized that it wasn't an equal interest for both genders, it was more of an equal disinterest for both genders.
While I understood this technical definition of asexuality, I still found it difficult to relay how I feel about relationships to other people. It's so hard to explain, and I imagine that it's still difficult for someone who isn't asexual to understand what he's talking about either. I however, resonated strongly with a lot of his points and found myself vigorously nodding along to nearly everything he was saying. Some of the things that stood out most were like how he doesn't "have" or define himself by a sexuality because it's not something that is relevant to his identity ("if I had 100 words to describe myself, my sexuality would not even be one of them"). Also, before watching this, I didn't know how to reconcile still having crushes and being asexual. Hearing him say that he still does have crushes was reassuring, as it was based on being attracted to someone's personality, not in a sexual way, which I find to be true for myself as well.
Another thing I related to in the video was loving being alone, loving being independent. But it's nice to know that I'm not alone in being asexual. I am comfortable with who I am, but hearing that validation from a somewhat mainstream pop culture figure was incredibly soothing. Where I'm not sure if I differ is that it sounds like Ricky Dillon is aromantic in addition to being asexual. I think eventually I'd love to have a romantic partner, a mutually "best" friend, to share my life with, but until I develop that friendship, I don't care for a deeper relationship. I can't imagine being sexually attracted to anyone; I've never felt it; it is a concept that is as foreign to me as asexuality is to my former roommate. While I'm don't subscribe to his channel, I am incredibly thankful that he decided to make this video and I hope he never takes it down. Now, I can breathe a huge sigh of relief, and go back to focusing on studying for finals again. It feels so good to rant on this blog. ◊
I woke up at 7am today; didn't get out of bed until noon. Archery is cancelled for the weekend so I'm probably not going to leave the apartment for the next three days. Thanksgiving has never been a holiday I've particularly enjoyed, and this year seems to be no different. It doesn't look like I'll get much rest either, as I've been assigned homework and problem sets for every class. I had planned to work on scholarship applications today, but seeing an email saying that I had not been selected as a finalist for a scholarship I had applied for earlier this semester was incredibly discouraging. It's been a long time since I haven't received something that I want, and I don't mean that in a self-serving way. I'd like to believe that I am good enough for the goals I strive for, so rejection like this is devastating. Still, I take it as a reminder to not be complacent about my achievements. There's still a long journey ahead to become who I want to be — achieving identity.
But again, I find myself struggling with the questions, "Who am I," and "What do I want?" Since the election, I've had to reconsider my entire five-year forecast. I've had the rug pulled out from under me. As a person built on spreadsheets, notepads that say "Keep Calm and Organize" and "Accomplish" — I feel so lost. For the first time in my life I don't have a plan. I find myself having a crisis about everything from what I want to do next semester to what I want to eat for dinner. I can't fix things because I'm not entirely sure what's wrong. I just want to know.
Thomas Sanders does an excellent job of putting exactly what I'm thinking into words:
I suppose this is as good a time as any to reevaluate my understanding of the concept of identity.
I tend to identify myself based on what I do, thus, the derailment of my career plans as a catalyst for an identity crisis. My participation in the extracurriculars I have chosen has also come under self scrutiny. I like to think that I do things that fulfill me as a person, not things that look good on a resume. In CREATE, I am an artist and a teacher; this I am satisfied with. In BPR, I find that I enjoy writing and editing, yet my frustration with communication and community also comes to light.
With archery, I had the most difficult time deciding if it was an interest worth pursing to me. At one point, I was wondering if accepting my mediocrity in archery was the death of a dream. Had I given up on myself? I've talked before about the all or nothing attitude, and I still find that I have difficulty letting go of that mentality. With archery, it's obvious to me that I won't be the best at it and it was silly to think that I was ever worried about that. If I have the time to continue archery throughout the next few semesters, I want to keep it as my zen self improvement project. I don't have to be the best at something for it to have value in my life.
Ultimately, there are certain things that I've found to be fairly consistent about myself throughout my life. I like to organize, plan, strive for perfection in what I do and who I am as a person. As I'm typing this, I'm trying to correct my posture. I am an introvert, independent, introspective, as clearly expressed through this blog as a constant tool of self improvement and self reflection. I am ambitious and resilient, and I will continue to fight for what I want.
For once, questioning my identity has led to a greater sense of self than I started with. I wish I had saved the first draft of this post to have a keepsake of how lost and conflicted I was about my identity a week ago. Everything felt like it had been upended and impossible to put back together, but like cleaning out my tote bag, I've found that I really have the essentials down and I only need to clear out a few annoying gum wrappers. I may struggle with my identity again, but right now, I am satisfied with who I am. I look around me and see sunshiney windows and sunshiney walls. I know I'll be okay, it's just a matter of how I'm getting there. ◊
I firmly believe that identity is fluid. From almost the very beginnings of this blog, written as a less articulate high schooler, part of my description page has said, "So this page is meant to answer the question, "Who am I?" and to be honest, there is no definite answer because I'm always changing. Not drastically, but I definitely know that I am not the same person now as I was two years, two months, or even two weeks ago." Change is the only constant. Regarding change of identity, I find myself again contemplating a change of name (really, pen name or pseudonym) which shouldn't be a big deal. As Shakespeare said, "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." One may argue that while pen names and pseudonyms and alter egos are made up, so are birth names. What's in a name, really?
However, the issue at this point is the problem of having had too many identities and now too much clutter. Though these names are made up and these identities have no real physical form in the world, their cumulative presence is indicative of an identity crisis that is very real. I revisited some old posts and was surprised to find that I've been in the midst of an identity crisis for over a year. It comes and it goes in strength, but it remains unresolved. It's clear to me now that even "Clary J. Simmons," the name and identity I thought was a satisfactory solution, was a borrowed name – borrowed from the fictional characters and meanings that I liked. Like a borrowed sweater, it looks nice and it feels nice, but it isn't mine, and I have to admit, there are some parts where it doesn't fit perfectly. Once again I found myself with no idea of who I was, looking into the mirror and not recognizing the face that was supposedly mine.
It's worth noting that depersonalization and derealization are well established phenomena, especially in the case of panic disorder, of which I am affected by. These last few weeks have been ridiculously intense academically, as midterms approach and program applications close. Needless to say, my stress and anxiety levels have been off the charts, and it's been taking significant effort to withhold a full blown panic attack. I'm not surprised that this is when the identity crisis has intensified. But in order to clean out my mental health landscape, as with physical settings, sometimes it is necessary to take everything apart in order to put it back together again.
In recent times, much discussion has arisen regarding gender identity, sexual identity, even racial identity, and I have found myself struggling so much to find a label that fits for me. Despite my desire to reject all identity labels, I somehow still feel like there is a societal pressure to choose one and stick to it. It's almost oppressive. In fact, in ED190, there was a discussion at one point, either on Freire or Vgotsky (I believe it was Freire but I'd have to clarify) about this very topic, and perhaps the idea that "to be human" means "to be able to change." By emphasizing the need to declare and conform to a single identity, society maintains the status quo, leaving individuals no space to learn and grow.
Seemingly, society was not always this rigid. In Buddhist tradition, a monk or nun is given a Dharma name in the ordination ceremony. Several Native American cultures give multiple descriptive names throughout significant stages of life, a practice I envy. Some name changes can be taken for granted, such as those who adopt an "Americanized name" after immigrating, or one who chooses a new name as part of a gender transition, or the taking of a spouse's last name after marriage. But aside from these, it is neither practical nor common to see frequent name changes in modern society. While lack of identity grants total freedom, identity is a necessity to hold individuals accountable without being completely dehumanizing (think Social Security numbers or at worst, Holocaust registration numbers). And for most, names are a source of pride for those who are comfortable with their identity.
If it hasn't been made clear already, I am not comfortable with my name nor my identity. My legal name is discordant and anachronistic for my age. To discard it would hardly be a tragedy, as it isn't even my birth name. My birth name was so early in my childhood that I nearly forgot it even existed. In middle school, when nicknames were all the rage, I struggled to find one that wasn't harsh or derisive. However, I've come to realize that no matter what I change to, these names will always be a part of me, like the inner layers of a Russian nesting doll. They remain profoundly influential to who I am, inextricably tied to stages of development sealed in time. It might take a while, but I think I'm starting to accept that.
In the meantime, the urge to change remains. As I haven't fully accepted the past yet, the desire to run from it, to be someone else pushes on my senses like instinct. I think it's best exemplified by one of my new favorite movies, Breakfast at Tiffany's. Audrey Hepburn's free-spirited character finds her past catching up to her, despite her best efforts to remain unfettered to her former life. Holly Golightly, running from her past life as Lula Mae, doesn't resolve her quandary, remarking "I'm not Holly. I'm not Lula Mae, either. I don't know who I am! I'm like cat here, a couple of no-name slobs." Her nameless cat bears a striking resemblance to my cat Larry, who has also been subject to several renamings and doesn't have a real identity. I relate to her "mean reds" too, which I interpret to be anxiety: "Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of."
The thing is, I enjoy creating identities and pen names. I enjoy the way certain sounds roll off the tongue, I enjoy seeing the way the letters are arranged, the way they're signed in lovely, loopy cursive. With my abundance of names, I can afford to be a chooser. This time around, I'm relaxing the uptight demeanor. I'm in college, and I want to enjoy it and have fun. As always, in the age of Twitter usernames and URLs, I've picked something that's unique and stands out.* I'm still keeping the accounts related to this blog separate from my social accounts, as I'm only comfortable sharing this blog with close friends or complete strangers. At the end of the day, I want to have a distinct identity, not a collection of potential characters. I expect after a while I will get bored of this name and change it again. In fact, I am already aware of what the situation that may prompt that change could look like. At this point, it's not an issue. There's no need whatsoever to conform to a single identity for the rest of my life. ◊
*(please check "CONTACT" for updated social media handles)
As the end of yet another year rolls around, it's time for some evaluations and forecasts.
Looking Back
Obviously the biggest things that happened this year were graduating high school and going to college. In the interim summer, I worked with my wonderful speech and debate coach to teach two elementary speech workshops, and in college I joined a mentorship program to continue working with elementary school students. I definitely want to continue my path working in education, so I declared the Education Minor at Berkeley. I wrote about every memorable event (and some of the things in between) on this blog, so there's no need to go over everything again (I'm so glad I decided to continue blogging). I would say that the big theme this year was change and transitions. Turning 18 meant becoming an adult, and with that came college and freedom. I've been so incredibly happy this year, but I've still been struggling with mental health problems. I can't possibly go over all the things that are now different, so I truly mean it when I say everything has changed and I've had to change too to keep up.
Looking Forward
I am so very excited for second semester. After all the lessons I learned about time management and whatnot first semester, I am ready for another round. As for goals next year, I think it's more effective for me to think about what not to focus on rather than a single goal.
Last year my goal was "Mindful Body Wellness." Apparently, it was a pretty complicated concept, but it boiled down to three actions: skin care, eating right, and exercise. Skin care I definitely succeeded in, with the Lush lotions and Clarisonic cleansers and whatnot. My skin still isn't perfect, but it is improving. Eating right started out ok, but then I went to college and had a meal plan in the dining halls. Still, I tried my best to go grocery shopping for celery and smoothie ingredients, so I'd say this is still a success. As for exercise, I tried, I really did, but after two Zumba classes and a series of yoga classes, not much happened. However, being on the Berkeley campus should really qualify as exercise, with the hills and walking. I don't know what to make of that goal. I guess it was a partial success, but there's still plenty of room to improve.
"Mindful Body Wellness" actually isn't too bad of a goal, so I will definitely continue to strive for it as best as possible, but additionally, I want to revisit a concept that has been very important to me: identity. 2016 will be the year to work on something I will call "Core Self." Less worry about what other people think of me and what they want me to be, and more focus on what I think of who I am and what I want to be. Cut out the extras, build a stronger sense of my own person. Become comfortable with who I am. Everything is clean, fresh, and pure. Let life come to me instead of me chasing after life.
A part of starting fresh is a haircut!
Also, as much as I love this pretty purple theme, it does look a little high-school-y. It's way past time for me to update it into something clean, minimalistic, and mature. To live is to change is to improve. What better time to do that than the transition into the new year? Sadly, as soon as I've caught onto one web design trend, everyone else has already moved on to the next big thing (for now that would be paneled posts; I'm not a huge fan, I'd rather just see everything on one page without pop-ups). I can't decide if I want to change the blog title into something a little more simple as well, but I think I'll be keeping the URL the same. Hopefully nothing gets too messed up when I tinker with the code, because I've already forgotten to save a backup of this old one. Some of the old posts are still wonky because of the image resizing, but oh well. Happy New Year! ◊
It is somehow August already. Summer is coming to an end, and college is coming very, very soon. The nights are alternatively hot and cold, so my ceiling fan settings are never quite right. I was thinking about ceiling fans the other day, how I am lucky to have one. When I was much smaller, I'd visit friends' houses; they'd all have ceiling fans and it was something they took for granted, nothing special at all. Another day, I made lunch, and I was so entranced to realize that my quesadilla had chili and avocado. Avocado! It was so small a thing, yet so drastically different than what I was accustomed to. There was a time when I would not have believed that was possible for me. I can't pinpoint why I thought it would have been impossible, or perhaps it's unusual for any person, but it made me realize how I am oh-so-fortunate to live in the situation I am in, for the most part. As much as things could be better, they could also be far worse, so again, it's all a matter of perspective. Make the changes you can make, accept the things you can't.
It hasn't really felt like summer. Work takes up most of my days. It's the exact same thing I've been doing the past two years for free, but now I'm getting paid for it. It makes it feel like a really long weekend, rather than summer vacation. I wake up whenever I want to, I eat ice cream whenever I want to, and I sleep whenever I want to, and repeat it all the next day. Today I'm having a root beer float, in a last-ditch attempt to quickly catch up on all my missed childhood before I enter the "real world" as an adult. They are few and far between, as most root beers are sold in large packs or 2-liter bottles. I had forgotten how good they are.
I'm stretching myself thin, trying to live in the past, present, and future. I've downsized my social media platforms in preparation for college. I haven't logged on to my personal Facebook in days (and to be honest, I'm actually enjoying the time off, though I fear I will need it again for convenience in college). I combined several Tumblr sideblogs, such as my space blog and art ref blog, and I've absorbed my aesthetic blog and fashion blog into my main blog. I'm still not sure which blog I want to use as my main blog. My current main blog is now about 40% aesthetic, 40% trash posts, and 20% social justice/other, so it's the one I use the most. I want to keep it because it's a one word url, which are hard to come by. However, I did claim "realhayleyatwell" to use as my fandom blog url, which is the closest I will get to having a canon url (realhayleyatwell is the real Hayley Atwell's Instagram handle). The claryjsimmons account is reserved for original content, so I know I won't be using it very much, but it's also a candidate for main blog position, for obvious reasons. Anyhow, I'm thinking out loud and rambling. The point was to mention something about tinkering at the code for the themes. It does make me very happy when something turns out exactly as I want it, but the process is so frustrating, and therefore I know I do not want to be a compsci major. I wouldn't have the patience to make something entirely new, only readjustments. But that is enough to satisfy me; it is more than enough to improve with little steps.
I was mulling over why I chose a pseudonym for my online presence. It seems a bit conceited and strange to me, and I always feel awkward explaining how it works to a friend. "Yes, that is me, but not really. Am I changing my name? Well, probably not. Yea, I don't know." I guess it is in part due to the fact that I want to be a special snowflake. My real name is surprisingly common, and I was always annoyed at having to tack on numbers and special punctuation to make a username. This one is clean, fresh, new, and unspoiled. It is all mine, nobody else's, and especially not my parents'. It is a unitary identity, consistent over every social media platform (speaking of which, I made an Instagram). It gives me a sense of control and cohesiveness.
Yet somehow, this ideation is inconsistent with who I think I am. I am indecisive, and since I was much smaller, I've never been able to choose a single identity. I wanted to be a marine biologist, and an interior designer, and a business owner, and a teacher. I wanted to be American, and Chinese, and a very small part of me wanted to move to Canada and become Canadian. Is it possible to reconcile all of these things?
I applied as a political science major, and in a few semesters, if all goes according to plan, I will declare it and work towards a degree in it. Like many, I can't help but be plagued with doubts over if it is the right decision. Berkeley has neither a public policy major nor an education major, so I am worried that polisci isn't the major that is most aligned with my goals.
Then there's the issue of goals outside of education. Formal schooling is a common struggle that unites all students, and a while ago I started to analyze my friendships and I feared that I had nothing in common with the people I called my friends. Perhaps it is true that we are not alike, or had few shared interests. That's what keeps it interesting. But at the same time, I hope to meet people in college who share my likes and dislikes to the same degree that I do.
It is August, almost time for college, and I have not learned Morse code, become fluent in Spanish, achieved ambidexterity, read all the Tolkien books, gotten my license, dyed my hair, or bought an iPad yet. There is still time, but I think it's time I realized that I need to take things slow. I can't possibly do everything. I'm very much so an instant gratification type of person, but the problem with a fast paced life is that everything passes so quickly. It's time to dial down the speed and savor things. By the end of this post now, I've already forgotten how good an ice cream float is again. But then again, perhaps it is better to keep things moving. ◊
Wow. I have graduated. It's still weird to think about because I don't feel any different, whatsoever. Sure, my room is cleaner now (mostly to do with the fact that I've had time to clean it) and my closet is bigger (yay, college money!) but I feel like I should understand more, about myself and how the world works. But the more I think about it, the more I am consistently unsure of who I am.
I've reached a milestone: graduation. And I've just finished updating all of my emails to reflect that. All the old accounts are removed from my computer. Everything's cleaned up, all the loose ends tied up in bows and cut evenly on both sides. But that was the easy part. The emails, the passwords, the browsers, those are all fairly easy to reset, despite it seeming like a monumental task when I first began. The hard part is cleaning up the parts of my identity still in my head. I have no clue who I am. All these years I've had my life handed out to me in ready to eat, easy to digest pieces. Do this, do that, say this, think that. A ton of societal rules and regulations that I easily took for granted. But I don't understand them at all.
Throughout high school I've learned a bit on how to question the things that are presented to me. This has helped me make clearer choices, to figure out what things I want for myself. But I have yet to learn simply what I want for myself. Who I am. My identity. It feels like a dirty fish tank, mostly livable for the fish inside, but also kind of gross, with little scummy bits floating around. I can't just dump all the water out and start afresh, because that would kill the fish inside, and I certainly can't do nothing about it. If anything, it's certainly going to be a slow, tedious process, replacing all the water gradually and filtering out the icky parts.
But maybe that murkiness is just me. There are a lot of things that are unclear to me about my identity, and I'm ok with that. It's an ongoing process, and there is no deadline. Of course I'd like to find clarity, but perfection is boring. To be as perfect and as lifeless as plastic. Not what I want.
Sometimes I really wonder if I'd be happier now if I'd just kept my head down and worked harder and just kept quiet until I was out and in college and free. They always say, “No one regrets not having worked harder,” but I'm kind of feeling that right now. I oscillate between wanting a life of accomplishment and grandeur to a quiet life snuggled in blankets under the warm window of a tiny apartment. Or maybe I want both, but I'm stuck between the two and I'm stagnantly awaiting a big opportunity to present itself, knowing that it's not going to show unless I look for it, but at the same time, too scared to move.
I just need a good cry-out, but I don’t cry anymore. I get scared whenever I think about this. It makes me feel less human somehow. I don't know how to express myself, I can't deal with emotions. And thats why I'm scared of panic attacks, because I feel like I get dependent on them as an outlet, or a form of emotional release, to let out all the bottled up stuff inside.
Speaking of panic attacks, I've come to realize that my mental health issues are a separate entity from myself. I was not my own worst enemy, but something inside of me was. Given my situation, I'm glad I was strong enough to avoid succumbing from it. But I still have dreams; there are things I want to do, and I refuse to let my issues take those away from me. So from now on, if those dark times happen again, at least I have the experience, and I can fight it. And I can defeat it.
Alternatively, something that's come up in high school is the cause of those issues, directly and indirectly. I hate the toxic attitude of some people, who make you feel inferior in order to make themselves feel superior. I have a feeling that this isn't going to go away at a school like Berkeley. I don't like the competition and how it makes me feel about who I am. This isn't to say that I'm not good enough to be competitive, but it makes me unhappy and exhausted being in a rat race all the time.
I am so terrified of the world. I slip through closing doors trying to remain unnoticed. I avoid talking to people if I can help it. I'm waiting for someone to come save me, to understand me, to fix me, but if the cliches are true, there's no one out there who can do that. I can only save myself.
To say what I think of my life now in a few sweeping statements: my life goal is not to get to the top and to live a life of lavish opulence, my life's purpose is to empower others. I am a helper by nature and I will not fight it, but I also refuse to be stepped on and used by other people to get what they want.
High school was one of the most difficult times of my life so far. If I had to describe it one word, it would be "awareness," in regards to myself and the world around me. Not that it was easy to become aware – I'd daresay it was traumatic – but one learns from adversity, and I'm glad to have become the person I am now. Of course, there's still so much I need to learn, and so much more growing up to do, but I do have time for that. This is one chapter of my life that I've changed much in, but I'm just as glad to leave it behind and pursue the next adventure, hopefully in a more positive manner. ◊
This is a compilation of musings from two posts over the culmination of a lot of stressful things that have been going on recently. In my last post, I tried to talk about happy things to focus on the positive, but I don't think that works for me necessarily as well as it does for others. Denial isn't healthy anyway, and to be honest, I do prefer venting and getting all the toxic stuff out of my system.
For now, I'd like to talk about utter, abject failure. It's not that I'm failing at anything right now – I've talked to my teachers to update the grades, I've accomplished things in day to day life – but rather the fact that utter, abject failure is ... appealing?
Author J.K. Rowling of the Harry Potter series once said,
"Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.”
It's a quote I always come back to when I'm feeling down, but I have yet to reach rock bottom. While rock bottom is quite the opposite of a goal one should strive for, it's quite nice in that there's nothing lower than that. No one expects anything out of you, you have nothing to lose, and that gives you the freedom to try anything, anything at all. Once you're past that situation you'll never be afraid of failure again because you've been there and you've survived.
Yet what I'm worried about now is that I have too much. Too much to risk, too much to lose if something goes wrong. And a lot of that stems from my parents. I fear failure, not for what it means to me, but for the consequences I am conditioned to react to. In regards to failure, I have been threatened with homelessness, starvation, and all means of a miserable life and painful death. I initially started writing this draft around the beginning of the month. At that time, I still had not decided on a college, and was worried about the fact that "if they can control what college I go to, how much more of my life can they control?" Now, I have made my decision, and though it aligns with what my parents wanted, it was entirely my own decision and I am satisfied with my choice.
Yet again, I revisit the idea of "What terrifies me?" Is it failure? Is it becoming exactly like my parents? If I had made another decision, would it be sacrificing my economic freedom for life freedom? What is it?
I don't know. I can't put a finger on it, but I think I'm scared of becoming passive, of becoming dependent.
"Stay here, buy a house, we’ll pay your down payment. You don't have to worry about a thing."
"Get this job, you’ll make more money."
"Marry this person, it’s better in the long run."
As much as I'd like to think otherwise, to a degree I still fear my parents. Because I know that I can fall for their trap so easily, thinking everything is all good, until it all explodes, and I think it's an isolated incident, and the cycle of abuse continues, just like I've learned in all those cautionary tales in English class, yet here I am, living them, still in denial. All they'll be is manipulative, abusive control freaks, masquerading behind concern and good intentions. It is not pretty language, but this is not said with malice, it is a simple fact. Yet, because it is a fact, I fear them. And I'm scared of continuing the cycle unknowingly and become as toxic to other people as they are to me.
I operate at 100% or 0%. This is what I was trained to do. Don't attempt something until you are willing to go all the way down the road, or else it's just not worth it. I'm slowly teaching myself to accept B's and C's. They are not failures, they are average. It's more healthy to forgive yourself, but I will not forget to aim high and push myself towards what I want, because rebelling for the sake of rebelling is immature and won't help me succeed (but there goes that mindset again, I just can't break out of it, but is it really a bad thing?) But how about failure? Can I teach myself to accept failure? I remember my first mental break down in middle school, screaming, crying, kicking, pulling my hair, wanting – praying – to feel the moment when the threads of sanity would snap inside my mind so I wouldn't have to endure the agony of thinking anymore, the agony of knowing that the horrible things were wrong but not being able to do anything about it. But even still, I was nowhere near failure. I was at the top of my class. A 4.0 student. As perfect and as lifeless as plastic. Yet also, resilient and flexible, though if I actually did snap, there would be no way to put it all back together, at least not perfectly, ever. For now, I don't need to face any of that yet. And true, I don't know if I ever will, but there's nothing to do but fall when the time actually comes. It's like ice skating, where the first thing they teach is how to properly fall, so you don't hurt yourself. That way, in a real accident, you know exactly what you need to do. I've never learned to fall properly, so maybe I will get hurt. But when I hit those rocks, I'll remember that it's time for a new beginning, and start fresh on a solid foundation. //
I want to be happy.
I want to make a difference in the world.
I want to help people.
Therefore, I would like to pursue my passion in my career and go into education policy to help with education reform in this country. But then I'm reminded of the sheer size of the bureaucracy and I'm worried that it's all going to be a pointless battle against textbook companies and standardized testing lobbies in which I'll end up miserable because I can barely make a dent in the world. Oh, the humanity!
I'm at a point in my life where there is so much to do, so many events, so much going on that demands my attention, yet I am also experiencing the traumatic undertaking of reinventing myself. The two go hand in hand (the world continuing to progress, and my own internal struggle) but it's so overwhelming. I'm seeking perfection but I don't even know what that looks like. I'm working towards my ideal lifestyle but I don't even know what my ideal lifestyle is. I only know that I am unsatisfied with who I am now. I want to be glamorous, not awkward. I want to be captivating and interesting, but I have nothing to offer but enigmatic musings that confuse more than clarify. Those things take time to develop, time I don't have, time in midst of chaos. Once there is no more chaos, there is no need for change. What then?
I often feel like I'm being held back from achieving my true potential, but what is my true potential? What are the extents of my abilities? I want to experience the full spectrum of human existence, but what is holding me back from doing that right now (aside from the obvious, such as money, age, etc)?
It is in my persona to solve problems: identify, analyze, execute. Yet these are just some things I don't quite have answers to. In these times, the wisdom of the internet is infinite. I wanted to share this new video from Veritasium, one of my favorite Youtube channels that not only teaches science, but also provides insightful commentary about social phenomenon, with a knack for delivering just the right message at just the right time in my life.
It's a constant struggle between pursuing relentless optimism and being mired in pessimism, but in the end, the only thing holding me back is me – in a way. It is the petrifying constructs of my childhood that were assembled under no fault of my own, but they are mine to carry now, and mine to dismantle. Yes, it will take time, and no, I am not alone, but once I able to achieve a sort of mental freedom, or at least treat it to a point where it's manageable, I am so ready to take control of my life. But until then, I won't know. ◊
/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/55991485/Screen_Shot_2017_07_28_at_3.44.06_PM.0.png)
