So much of my adult life has been me trying to "play it cool". But you know what? That's fucking exhausting and honestly --- I'm just NOT a chill girl, and I never will be. It's a part of my personality. I overthink everything. I worry about everything. I have anxiety. And if I'm playing it cool for someone--- am I really being my true self? If they can't handle me at my *not-chillest* then do they really deserve me at my *chillest*?!?
Don't get me wrong. I really struggle with this concept. I feel like my whole life I've been brainwashed into thinking that I'm supposed to pretend like everything is okay. I had a MAJOR trauma happen to me at age 5 (My Dad died), and I never knew or learned how to deal with it. I don't blame anyone except society. It sucks that mental health is put aside because it's so taboo to talk about. I mean honestly---- how many people do you know that struggle with mental issues? Probably damn near everyone, right? But we are so shamed away from talking about it--which further throws us in the spiraling abyss that is the mental illness stricken brain.
I've had so many fucking residual feelings of anger/resentment/frustration with my most recent relationship so I've decided to just work really hard on channeling those feelings into artwork. I choose a feeling that I'm feeling that day and then I think about how I can do a self portrait portraying said feeling. I look up tons of reference photos. I look at other artists for inspiration. And I've been doing the Inktober challenge so I'm also looking to other artists to be held accountable for the daily drawings. Maybe this is the first daily drawing challenge that I will actually complete?!?! We shall see. I have good feelings that I will finish.
It's been a while since I wrote my last blog post. I've honestly been struggling to just EXIST the past few weeks. It's hard for me to get out of bed or shower or brush my teeth-- let alone pay attention to a blog. Haha.
I wanted to be friends with my ex, but he couldn't handle it. He couldn't handle that I am not a fucking chill girl and it pisses me off to no extent. Not that he as a person couldn't handle it per say but-- that I would give up my entire life and move across the world for someone who cannot handle me at my worst. Coming back to the States has been rough... and for other reasons than I would have initially thought.
I thought that I would miss the European life. But honestly being back in American culture has been heartwarming--especially in the South. Everyone calls you "baby" and people genuinely want to speak to you on the street. People smile. Maybe they aren't genuinely wanting to know what your day feels like but it's nice to just feel acknowledged. Sure, I'll never see the random lady on the street corner who asked me: "Hey baby, how's ya day goin?" but I will remember the feeling she gave me. We looked each other in the eyes and smiled. Ya know, human nature shit.
I. Gave. Up. My. Entire. Life.
All of my possessions. A dog. Friends. Location. Money. Freedom. Culture.
I did it for 7 fucking months and tried and tried and tried to make things work. I tried to be the chill girl. But hey, I can't be fixed by anyone other than myself.
You. can't. fix. me.
So I came home. I came to the only place where I could live for free. I had to ask my Mom for money to bring all of my belongings and my dog back. I had to ask her tohelp me buy a plane ticket. Now I'm 30 years old and living in my moms spare bedroom. On a bayou where there's no public transportation, one road in and out, no uber or lyft, no coffee shops, no weed stores, no car and where it's dangerous to walk or bike anywhere.
It's been about 2 weeks now since I've been back and holy shit. The first week was a crash and burn. With multiple international flights, stress of moving, packing, finding money, and trying to keep my head above water--- I fucking crashed. I couldn't get out of bed. I slept and slept and slept. I wanted to just give up. I honestly and truly did not know why I was doing what I was doing. I had nothing. I attempted another huge life change and failed yet again. I wanted my depression and anxiety and trauma to just win. I was so fucking tired of fighting this daily battle.
But then I reached out.
I made a post on social media that I felt like I couldn't do it anymore. People flooded into my comments, my text messages, my inbox. They told me that I matter in this world. That I'm a light in their life. Even though at the moment I didn't feel like I could accept any kind words--- it impacted me subconsciously. Here I was devastated that a person 4,500 miles away couldn't be a friend to me-- but there were handfuls of people who chose to show me their light with no judgement. It was in that moment that I realized I too could no longer be friends with anyone that wasn't willing to accept that I have a dark side. There is a part of me that is consumed by my mental illnesses. That's just how I will be for the rest of my life. There is no denying it, there is only acceptance of that fact. So yeah, I can't be the chill girl. I will come to you with my irrational thoughts and want you to just tell me it's okay. I will learn to tell myself it's okay. I will want you to just listen and not take things on as your own things. I will want you to realize that they are only my things they are not yours for the taking. Even though I'm sad that doesn't mean I can't also be happy-- it's just sometimes it may not be possible for me that hour or day or week.
Nothing lasts forever.
People will show you they love you, and if they don't---
Find new people.
And as far as how I am now? I'm here. I'm alive. I'm taking it one hour at a time some days. I am trying to compartmentalize my feelings about my situation this past year. I'm speaking out. I'm voicing my brain thoughts. I'm learning to love Louisiana again. I'm rekindling the love I used to have for New Orleans and the bayou. I'm spending time with family and reaching out to friends.
Oh and I'm not being the chill girl.