Indecisions, Indecisions

Hi friends, I am writing to you from Philadelphia. I’ve decided to run away and live here now. JUST KIDDING. I am here for a conference and I am excited to be spending the day here exploring— and by that I mean sitting at this one coffee shop, not buying anything, and using their internet for the day. And what a day it is-not too hot, not too cold, partly cloudy with a chance of fun.

I’ve been getting many inquiries and desires for the deets of my dating life. I know the deets you are all looking for and honestly the name of my show would be sexless and the city. I must’ve shaken the magic eight ball and received ‘outlook not good’ because the people that I have met are, well, underwhelming, to say the least. There was one guy I dated for a hot second, but it was just that—a second. And the rest were nice enough, but not my cup of tea. *I would like to note that I feel very lucky that I have not met anyone that is cruel*

What I am finding is that there seems to be a lack of passion in the world. I am not just talking about romantic passion, but passion for life. When I ask people why they do what they do, most don’t have a real answer. Often responded with ‘I make good money’ or ‘what else would I do’? I’m fairly certain they don’t even enjoy their work. And these aren’t the people that are making money to get by. I get those people. I’ve been that person. We gotta do what we gotta do. These are people that have spent years of their lives in school, pursuing something that they aren’t even sure of. Then when I ask what they do outside of work I tend to get the generic ‘hang out with friends, work out, *cough* do you even lift bro?’ It’s like someone is playing a joke on me. I mean if it is a joke, that’s pretty good. But like, Ashton, you can come out now. 

Really though, in this frame I feel lucky- and not just because I don’t call people bro. In my undergraduate studies I changed my major several times. I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher, work in media, learn spanish, teach spanish, teach math, go into politics … and more. Often the response I get to this is of shock and confusion. Personally, I am more shocked and awed that this isn’t the standard. I often get down on myself about being indecisive. At times it makes me feel like I have this burdensome weakness. “Just pick a cereal, Sarah, it’s not that hard”. Sure, Reese’s Puffs vs Cinnamon Toast Crunch doesn’t seem that important, but to me it’s a couple weeks of breakfast. What do I want to wake up to every morning? Will it bring me joy. My mornings are my favorite part of the day. This decision is crucial. And you know, I typically go with the choice that I hadn’t even been considering, i.e oatmeal. Might bring this up to my therapist later, idk.

These dates with people that seem ‘just okay’ with their lives have been a friendly reminder to me; I am indecisive because I care about myself. This is not a weakness, this is a strength. When I meet people that just do things because that’s what they are supposed to do and they don’t question that, alarm bells ring in my head. Every choice we make should mean something to us. For this reason, I am taking a new approach with my dating life. Previously, I was going on dates just to go on dates. It didn’t matter the person, I just needed to get used to dating again. Both my quest and therapy have helped me get over that fear. Now, I have a new goal. I want to meet people with intention. I want to be surrounded by thoughts I haven’t had yet and feelings I didn’t know I could feel. I want to leap back out of my comfort zone, not into a fearful zone, but of excitement. I want passion in all aspects of my life. 

Jumping back into dating with intention means that there has to be a critical look at my past relationships. Looking back, my most recent relationship began without intention. One minute we were friends and the next minute we were more than that. Then the next minute we weren’t either of those things. Then we were again. Then we weren’t. Then my friends started calling us Rachel and Ross. Not really, but they could’ve. My emotions followed suit—Happy, mad, sad, happy, sad. Yet, I never assessed those feelings. I took them at face value. I thought I was sad because I was letting go of something I shouldn’t; I thought I was mad because I wish I didn’t know what I knew; I thought I was happy because there was still a chance of us being together. Now I know I was all those things because I was supposed to be, because break-ups are hard. But there was that emotional stigma again, telling me that sadness/madness are bad and all I should want is happy. I just kept reaching for happy, not understanding that all my emotions were trying to tell me something. Up and down, up and down my feelings went. I got so seasick I had to jump ship and landed all the way in New York. 

But see, leaving Alaska was done with intention. That was a decision that I mulled over and feared of making the wrong choice. As I sit here thinking back to how hard that choice was for me, I am wondering why I have never put the same energy into picking the right partner. My indecisiveness does not translate to my relationships. I often find myself dating people simply because they want to date me. I don’t think about why I want to be with that person or what makes me passionate about building a life with them in it. 

What is it about finding a partner that I don’t think it warrants the same attention? If there is anything I should be indecisive about, it is finding a person that I let into my life in more intimate ways than any other person. With pillow talk, I pass out deep secrets like candies. I am consumed with the vulnerability displayed by nakedness. For me and the things I have been through, I tend to let my guard down as a way to protect myself. If I say yes, if I tell them my secrets, even if I don’t necessarily want to, then I am safe. They can’t hold anything against me. I think this is why I have been so hesitant to give my attention to this. Because it means I have to take myself off of autopilot and really check myself every step of the way. These connections, though, deserve more of my attention, more of my indecisiveness, more of me caring about myself. I want to find people that have passion and that make me feel safe to let my guard down, not as a way to protect myself, but because I feel safe to do so.

I, with the help of a dear friend, have come up with a plan to do just that. I am going to start meeting people with more intention. First off, I am going to start talking to people in public. [I know… it’s so un-millennial of me. Talking to strangers just out in public like some kind of wild animal.] Secondly, I am going to be observant and reach out to those that seem to have a spark in them. Thirdly, I am going to try new things. Join groups, lean new skills, leap into new passions! This process is not just for romantic relationships, but for connection with all humans. 

Isn’t that all any of us are really looking for anyways— Connection. 

A[wo]men

It’s radiant – the black and the white
The good and the bad
The sharp contrast.

I, however, am gray. 

It’s subtle- black and white
No good, no bad 
The blurry mixture.

-Just stories. 

The Social Media Revolution

Hi Friends, you may have noticed some upgrades to the site (and if you’re new here welcome and I hope you enjoy the lewk). I have decided to take my blog to the next level- the professional level. *Look at me adulting* This upgrade has been something I have been stewing on for quite some time, but the reason I chose today is because a spark was lit in me. I believe the main ignitor was therapy- ergh let’s be real, I KNOW the ignitor was therapy. All of this work I have been doing on myself- my patterns, the parts of me holding me back, baby Sarah- I finally realized I had the power to change. I know, that’s like the therapy moments in the movies, ya know?

I used to say that I hated those people that had a ‘thing’. You know the type, where they have something that they are so passionate about that they almost seem to emanate it. I was always jealous of the sports kids, art kids, and well pretty much anyone with a hobby. My hobbies seemed to include hating myself and helping others. The latter I was able to make a career of and the former is what deterred me from trying anything else. When I left therapy yesterday, I started to think about what could be my passion? What is something that brings me true joy and clarity? I’d like to say that writing jumped up at me like there was no real thinking to it, but I honestly made a list for quite some time before hitting on the blog. As I sat there writing all of the things I loved -bread, cheese, pigs, photography, music, Stranger Things– I had this moment of looking at my pen and being like ‘duhhh’. Of course, that passion has been here for awhile, but that inner voice told me I wasn’t good enough to take it further. The inner voice told me I couldn’t have writing be my passion because I am not a trained writer; therefore, no one would want to read what I have to write.

Yesterday in therapy I talked to that inner voice. See, that inner voice, like baby Sarah (see post-Nobody Puts Baby [Sarah] in the Corner), is also my protector. When I spoke to the voice I told them that I appreciated all the pain they have protected me from. I hugged them and thanked them for continuing to motivate me to be better. The image in my head was that of a cartoon. I was the little girl in Inside Out and my inner voice was a cute little black fluff ball. Then, my therapist encouraged me to invite a new feeling in with that inner voice and all of the sudden me and the little black fluff ball were hugging as we were surrounded by hundreds of little yellow fluff balls. We felt warm as we were surrounded by a new energy. When the hugging ended I told the voice I didn’t need it and that they could hang around if they would like, but they couldn’t speak to me in the same way anymore.

I know what you might be thinking, especially if you have never done inner work, ‘this sounds like some hippy-dippy-shit!’ I know this because I have been that person. The person that scoffs at the idea of letting your imagination help you to heal. It seems made up, and while part of it is, when I let down those walls and open up to the idea that it could work, my imagination started to go wild with it. The point of me telling you all of this though is to really bring to the forefront the ideas that we create about ourselves; the stories we decide to showcase. Going to therapy, consistently was a challenge, even as a therapist. I resisted feeling vulnerable because it is scary. Telling you that I talked to an inner-voice in my head, and also gave it an image and a story line, also feels vulnerable and  scary to type out loud. It is stories like this that I think we need to hear.

Yesterday, a friend of mine was doing a hard creep on my instagram and commented on one of the photos “little did we know these nights cloaked in depression [would form] an impenetrable bond.” When I reexamined the photo we were so bright and happy it was hard to believe that it was taken during the height of my depression. These were the days where my suicidal ideations were stronger than ever, yet when you look at that photo it is near impossible to tell that fact. 34 likes on that picture and most of them probably thought I was in a really good place, they were none the wiser. This is why I am telling my stories… my real stories. Because the pictures we paint on the internet are often glossed over with smiles and joy. We don’t often see posts of the hard times, heartbreak, pain, anger, but we all know we are experiencing it.

This is why I write and I share. My stories may not be very different from anybody else’s, but to me that is the point. I want people to know that they are not alone. And just as powerfully as a funny image on Instagram can bring me joy, so can a sad post on Instagram that brings me connection. I want to be a part of a revolution on the internet where honesty and bravery become the norm; where all emotions are brought to the table and we begin to normalize and accept all emotions. I feel that when we start to see this shift we will see a decrease in suicide rates, self-harming disorders, body-image issues, etc. With the internet being run by happy posts and joy it sends a message that fear, anger, sadness, disgust and any other feeling you can conjure is bad. This, as we know, is incorrect messaging. All feelings have a purpose and are valid.

So I am giving you all a call to action- share a new emotion on the internet. Join me in the social media revolution by following my Instagram and liking my Facebook page and use the hashtags #honestyrevolution #braveryrevolution to post stories of some of your own truths.

xxoo

A[wo]men

Moving On

Hi, friends! It has been awhile and I am so excited to be back. Gosh, even just typing nonsense feels good. I missed my time and my space that I created for myself here on the internet. I forgot how therapeutic writing for me really is and my goodness do I need all the therapeutic activities I can get. So let’s just dive right in, shall we?

There has been so much going on in my life I barely know where to begin. I believe my last post was approximately 6 months ago, give or take a few. Even in those last few posts I wasn’t in the best head space to say how I was truly feeling or what I was going through. I think I have made it through the fog and I am ready to let it out. “Hold onto your butts” as the great Samuel L. Jackson once stated in the greatest film of all time (let’s fight about it).

I will start with the biggest news of all, I MOVED BACK TO NEW YORK CITY! Basically it all started with a text from my previous intern supervisor informing me that there was a job opening and I was encouraged to apply. As soon as I saw the text, I knew in my heart of hearts that NYC was where I was meant to be. Of course, even when my stomach knows the truth, my brain has a tendency to disregard all natural instincts.

I explored options with friends, family, therapists, trees, stray dogs, the wind, etc. I went back and forth, back and forth, unsure if I should stay or go. Although, everyone around me seemed to know my answer before I did… There were just so many things I loved about Alaska. I have people that I call family there. I loved my kiddos I worked with, they were the reason I woke up in the morning. I never stopped being in awe of the beauty. Alaska was the place I thought I would be for a very long time. However, there were also dark parts of me in Alaska; a side of me I hadn’t seen in a long time. I would isolate myself, avoiding any human contact for as long as I could. I thought about not living anymore, more often than I would like to admit. It got scary. So, as much as the pros of the island were really great, the dark pieces of me were longing to feel light again. After a lot of consideration (and getting hired, which the whole plan was contingent on) I decided to make the move. I spent my last few weeks in Alaska with the people I love, exploring the island. It was the most beautiful 4 weeks of my entire time there. I then loaded up my car, got back on the three day ferry that got me there in the first place, drove to Wisconsin, then flew to NYC all in a total of 5 days. Talk about a wild ride… There has not been a day since I left where I don’t think about the island. There will always be a part of my heart there, just like there was always a part of my heart left in NYC.

Coming back to the city felt like coming home. As soon as I stepped off the plane, I could feel a weight lift off of me. When I was in Alaska and working through my depression, I didn’t realize how far down the hole I had gotten until I was out of the hole and breathing again. It is difficult to recognize something is wrong, after it had been wrong for so long, because that starts to feel like your new normal. I have said this before, but it bares repeating: My depression is my friend. She is a comfort in a lot of ways and often I don’t notice when she has over stayed her welcome, but when she leaves there is an immediate ability to reflect on all the harm she does.

I think I appreciated her presence even more in Alaska because I was going through heartbreak. (I like how I said that in past tense, like I am not still going through heartbreak. Cute.) I felt rejected and hurt and my depression validated my feelings. I would say I was worthless and she would say “yeah, you’re right. Let’s just stay in bed.” At that time, it was exactly what I needed to hear. Ending my relationship made me feel extremely out of control, but giving into my depression made me feel safe. I am sure many of you are wondering about my breakup and want more details, but it just isn’t going to happen. The wounds are still there and I think they will be there for awhile. Love hurts, ya know? *Cue Nazareth (1976)*

While I am not talking about the breakup specifics, I do want to talk about what I have been going through emotionally, in hopes that maybe I find some more healing. Mostly, at this stage, I have felt frustrated. The idea of going through that whole process again to potentially go through more heartbreak is v. upsetting. There has to be an easier way, right? I mean, I guess it’s called being alone, but that doesn’t sound fun either. On top of feeling frustrated, I am also feeling alarmingly scared. I have lost a lot of trust. So much so that I start to panic around strangers, assuming that they want to hurt me in some way. I have been on edge, particularly around male-identifying humans. I know it’s not fair that a few bad experiences have made me generalize, but trust me I am working through it. We’ll get to how in just a moment. I have also felt very confused. I constantly miss this person, yet know I shouldn’t be with this person, but also can’t stop comparing everyone to this person, and all my feelings get jumbled up into a big ball of mess. One big, confused, fucked up, ball of mess. Pretty much the epitome of human existence, I think.

The good thing about all these feelings I have been experiencing is that I am officially out of it, so I can start to work through some of these things. Living in Alaska, seeing them every day… it was really hard and what was harder was letting go. Right now, that is all I am really focusing on. Letting go of the past in hopes that I am making all the best choices for my future. Which is why I am back to blogging and back to focusing on myself and my needs. ALSO, I deleted social media off of my phone and only visit the pages for blogging purposes. It has made a world of difference. My own self-esteem has increased by at least 40%, and honestly, I think that is a gross underestimate. I realized the constant comparing I was doing and the damage it was causing. I would search his page daily, wondering if he was thinking about me. I would find myself googling plastic surgery, calculating how much I would have to save to start looking like the models I follow. It was hazardous. Healing from this way of thinking is the most rewarding part of my journey thus far.

Another part of my healing plan, and desire to get back to trusting others, has included dating again. *EEK*  This is that part of the story that we weren’t ready for earlier. That’s right, friends… A billion dates with men is on the agenda. Okay, maybe not a billion, but really I am trying to create my own form of exposure therapy. I figure that the more dates I go on, the more comfortable I will start to feel around the male-identifying population and perhaps may even find feelings for one them. *not holding breath* It is refreshing to go in with this mentality, solely because I feel very much in control of each situation. I don’t spend time wondering if I am putting on a good show. I actually haven’t worn makeup or dressed up for a single date yet. I am genuinely just there to hear their story and find connection with the human sitting in front of me. I don’t know if this technique is for everyone, but it certainly seems to be working for me. So far, they have all been pretty decent dates too, so that is helping the journey go smoother. *Informercial voice over* Some of the side effects to this form of treatment include: spending a lot of money on dates, being out too late on work nights, spending 5 minutes prior to a date exploring what to do if the person tries to murder you, and of course *relationships not guaranteed*. Other than those few hiccups, it is fun.

I am also dating myself again which is always my favorite thing to do and actually blossomed out of my first blog. RIP Tumblr blog. Last weekend I took myself to the movies. I’ve taken myself out to dinner a few times. I love taking myself out for coffee. I am an excellent coffee drinker/people watcher date FYI. I gave myself time to write. I heart self-love and I am glad I am giving me the attention I deserve.

And with that, I would like to end on a poem I wrote, as I try to further develop my poetic skills and continue to show myself love and compassion in new adventures:

 

---

The way the wind rustles the leaves

That is the way I fall in love.

Light and mesmerizing,

without a path to follow.

 

The way the fire burns with rage

That is the way I fall out of love.

Powerful and dangerous,

without water to make it stop.

 

The way the water ebbs and flows

That is the way I heal my soul.

In and out, in and out, in and out

without an end in sight.

 

The way the earth exists for us

That is the way I exist for others.