To all the things I’ve loathed before

This post has been hard for me to talk myself into writing. I know I’ve written about my depression before, but I’m currently dabbling in depression mixed with heart break. It is quite the cocktail for loneliness and overeating. I don’t want to get into the messy details of said heart break. My brain has gone over it enough for the rest of us.

I digress.

My rose colored glasses are currently smeared with crimson red, as if I am the next PETA victim. Anger is an emotion that I will openly admit I don’t feel comfortable with. In fact, I joined an anger management group in middle school because I was so worried about my inability to express my anger. Perhaps, this is the reason I give 2nd, 3rd, 5th, chances to those that may not  deserve it; I cry when someone yells at me; my heart races when I even think I have upset someone in any way. It’s funny because as I write this, I think of all my posts I have about how we, as a society, need to sit in our feelings. Yet, when I would say feelings I meant sadness. Sadness I feel comfortable with. Sadness is a close friend of mine.

I have not shown the same appreciation for anger. Anger, a natural emotion, has somehow become my enemy. The Nicholas Cage of emotions if you will. I need to learn how to sit with my anger and then I might be able to move on from it. Even if we don’t think we are expressing our feelings, they come out in other ways.

My anger tends to come out, inwards: “You deserve this. You did something wrong. Look at all the mistakes you have made. You are gross and you don’t treat your body well. No wonder nobody likes you. Your skin is disgusting. You shouldn’t even bother getting up today.”

This list could go on and on and on. This horrible, horrible list. “Would you say these things to your friends?” No, I reply. “Why do you feel okay saying them to yourself?” Because I can. I can be so angry at myself and beat myself up and at the end of the day the only person I hurt is me. I don’t hurt anyone else which feels that safest to me.

It isn’t though. It isn’t safe to have these thoughts. These thoughts are harmful to us as a society. Anger is okay; anger displaced is dangerous. I need to find a way to take my anger out, without harm to others or myself. I know what these things are, but then depression comes swooping in making it hard to move.

What I really need is to get back into running. It was the one space I could feel the anger drip away. Not just the anger, the sadness too. I felt safe when I was running. I also need to get back into writing, starting with this post. Blogging is the place where I feel like I can sit with my emotions and not run from them, but face them. I can look my anger in the eye and tell it to give me a hug because that is exactly what it needs. I need to type it again: Anger is okay.

So, to honor my anger, I would like to write a letter based off the latest trending teen rom-com, coming-of-age movie: To all the boys I’ve loved before (but with a twist).

To all the things I’ve loathed before:

I need to express how absolutely pissed off I am. I am pissed off to the point of wanting to throw glass plates at brick walls. The red that I am seeing is allowed. I don’t want to see rose color all the time [unless it is rosé, okurr]. I also don’t want to see red all the time. So, let me just get these specifics off my chest:


one-two punch.






front kick.


Okay, that last one wasn’t actually something I am feeling, but Samuel L. Jackson’s anger is equivalent to mine, so I felt it necessary to include for reference.

As I wrote each one of those, I yelled them (hence the caps lock). And I could go on, but honestly the release I feel right now is good. The red is starting to fade and my head is starting to clear. This too shall pass.

I don’t forgive everything just yet, but I am starting to feel that I can and that is all I can ask.

With rage and peace,

Sarah Lorraine

P.S. I know the things that I have loathed, will likely not see this letter, but I don’t need my anger to be received by anyone or anything to let it go. This is what I am learning.





An apology to my younger self

So, I have officially been in Alaska for two weeks and I don’t think it has even hit me yet that this is my home now. When I say the word “home” it brings up many mixed emotions, for a lot of different reasons. My childhood had its ups and downs, as I’m sure most of ours did. (And by childhood, I mean 0-21… I was a late bloomer.)

When I was pondering what I was going to write about this week, I started thinking about that world that I lived in. For those of you that didn’t know me from 0-21, I have many people in my life that will fill you in on my less-than-understanding personality. Now, I know I am the person I am today because of the person I was and I can’t have one without the other. Fine, whatever universe. I get it. Namaste.

Actually though, I hate the word regret because I know that it’s not helpful to dwell on our past mistakes and forget to live in the present. Totally ripped that off from Dumbledore, but my yeezy what an inspiring wizard.

Though, if I had to pick a fav Dumbledore quote it would be: “Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.” This is why I blog [and also because I’m super basic & proud of it]. Writing is my journey to healing. I am harder on myself than anyone ever has been or will be. But I want to move on from the pain I have had.

Therefore, this week I will be writing an apology letter to my younger self, so I can write it down, let it go, and move forward:

Dear little Rah,

I use the word little because I know it would mean something to you… because you spend your free time feeling big. I want to apologize for this. I’m sorry I used you’re brain and energy on something that shouldn’t have gotten in your way. I’m currently writing a blog about me and I promised not to talk about the eating disorder, but I needed to briefly mention it to you because you took the brunt of the struggle. I will leave it at that. I am sorry.

I am sorry that you spent your time angry at your family. You wanted so badly to be the families you knew at school. The ones that appeared to have lots of money and pretty things and not as many people. The homes with brand new furniture, a stay at home parent, and the perfect little life. FYI, Hannah Montana was right: “nobody’s perfect, you live and you learn it.” I’m sorry that I didn’t see the energy your family put into making you feel like those kids. All the money they spent on trying to make you feel like you fit in, with dance and cheerleading and trips with school. If I knew how bad they worked, I would have known how loved you were. You would be nowhere without them. Also, you have no idea how much you learned about being thrifty. It is a great life skill.

That includes your sisters, who you continuously pushed away. All they did was love you, and all I did was dream of a life away from everyone. Let me tell you, I caught the travel bug and I did leave, but I also call them all the time because I spend a lot of days missing them. I realized how great everyone in the family is, and luckily not too late. Would you believe it, they are your best friends. #blessed I’m sorry I didn’t let you see that sooner.

I’m sorry that you didn’t understand that boys actually suck and you were better off alone. EVEN MORE SORRY that you didn’t grasp just how amazing being single can be. If only I knew then what I knew now about being a woman, with her own brain and her own destination. You might be disappointed to hear that I am still single, but please don’t be. It’s actually great. I move around a lot and have met some really wonderful people. I know one day I will cross paths with someone who will fit right into my adventures. I really got into poetry and I repeat this poem from Rupi Kaur often:

i do not want to have you
to fill the empty parts of me
i want to be full on my own
i want to be so complete
i could light a whole city
and then i want to have you
cause the two of us combined
could set it on fire

I’m no longer looking for my other half because I am already full, I’m looking for someone else who is also full of life. I want to set the world on fire. Which reminds me… I am so sorry that I ever let you like that boy. So, so sorry about that. My bad. He ended up being a real POS, so no worries that he didn’t love you back in the way I wanted him to.

I’m sorry that you spent your nights laying awake with the lights on and the music loud. This was, biologically, stupid. You’re body needs, like, legitimate rest and your mom was so right when she said you shouldn’t sleep like that. She also told you not to sleep in jeans and a bra, but you had to because were ready to run at any moment.

And when I say you were ready to run, it’s not a reference to the Dixie Chicks or hating your life, but rather our extreme anxiety of murderers and ghosts. Yeah, super sorry about that. Not murdered in 27 years, so I was totally wrong.

Speaking of being wrong, I’m sorry that I encouraged you to constantly judge your friends. They were going through shit too and I wouldn’t let you be there for them like you wanted to be. The good news though is that they all still loved you. And yes, they are all still in my life. I’m pretty freaking lucky.

I’m mostly sorry that I can’t meet you now and show you everything I’ve become regardless of the pessimism from 0-21.

Also important to note that I’m not sorry at all that I wanted you to see the world. I’ve seen a lot and will see more. The travel bug never left.

Finally, I’m really not sorry that your heart was always big, no matter what I was telling you in your head.

Love always,

Big rah