Tag Archives: self care

Yes, I’m crying and I’m proud

Recently, I have taken up crying in random public places. Work, the mall, parties, the metro station, at the gym, etc. Tomorrow I plan to cry at lunch (because the tears will appropriately salt my food).

If you’ve seen my beautiful rosy, red face covered in salt water and snot, I know you might think I’m a bit crazy. Or, at least, really sad. I want you to know that I’m learning not to be ashamed of my tears by performing this exhibition art.

Ok, so it’s really not planned or exhibitionism. I really am sad as fuck. But, the uber cool thing about crying EVERY FUCKING PLACE IN JOHANNESBURG is that I give no fucks what you think and I know you really don’t care. And, its ok to be sad.

Just in case you feel insane guilt over crying, I’ll say it again.

Let those tears make purple rain across your beautiful face. Purple rain. Purple rain.

Life is hard as those tootsie rolls that are really too old to give out as halloween candy, but some asshole decided it was a good idea to give to you as reward for your fancy ass costume. I just want you to know that I wouldn’t do that to you. But, the point remains. Shit be hard. And, you are allowed to be upset about it.

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Wake up

Tw: suicide

If you’ll do me the honor of putting on Wake up by NF while you read this, it’ll set the mood.

I’m sitting at the feet of the Nelson Mandela statue right now listening to this song on repeat.

Someone good committed suicide recently. Someone so kind. Someone too fucking good for this world. And I’m so goddamn torn up about it, that I can’t even form sentences.

She was one of many who were plagued by monsters. The kind that attack your mind and make everything so dark that you can’t find your way out. She fought them to death.

It’s so easy to write off suicide as weak. It’s so easy to say “they should of decided to live.” It’s so easy to shame those who suffer from mental illness. It’s so easy to forget the people who are different than us. It’s so easy to judge another’s suffering by ambiguous standards. It’s so easy to write a shitty blog post about suicide.

I’m so tired of being embarrassed and ashamed that sometimes I can’t keep my depression and anxiety locked away. I’m so tired of running away when the panic sets in. I’m so tired of hearing the excuses about mental illness. I’m so tired of hating myself. I’m tired of fighting.

I want people to wake up. I want communities to stop pretending they don’t play a part in suicide. I want people to not give up on us. I want you to stop excluding someone your friends call weird. I want people to stop walking away when they don’t understand a panic attack. I want you to go after the kid crying at work. I want you to ask how are you and not be afraid of the answer. I want you to reach out to someone you know and ask if they are ok. I WANT YOU TO ASK HOW TO HELP SOMEONE SUFFERING.

All it takes is one action. One moment. To change a person’s life.

I know what you are thinking. Families feel the strain of mental illness. Husbands and wives watch the person they love become a shell and they don’t know what to do. Sisters and brothers get tired of checking on their sibling. Friends are tired of the person turning down their invites. Sometimes they just want this disease to go away.

I get it. We get it. We need to stand up with our pain. We need to scream “here it fucking is. I carry this monster with me and I am not ashamed.” We need to ask for help. We need to get help. We need weapons to keep fighting. We need to get up when a hole in the ground seems like a great idea. We need to stop believing we are worthless because it’s not true. We

I want you to know what ever monsters that you carry with you, they are not bigger than you. You keep on fighting. This world is not better without you. Put down that knife and back away from the fucking ledge because we need you here. We need you.

So many of us have felt that temptation. So many of us planned it. So many of us almost did. So many of us tried.

I’ve been on that bridge, friend. I’ve wanted to watch all my pain fall with me. It takes everything to pull yourself back from the edge. Don’t let those monsters take you. They don’t deserve your life.

I was going to write about self-care then I stabbed myself in the eye with a toothbrush

Hello. 

As you may know, self-care is important. Today, in an effort to feel less like death warmed over, I decided I was going to put on a dress, do my makeup, and take myself out to lunch. 

Everything was going well until I looked at my face from another light source. I had done my makeup and went out onto my balcony to make sure I looked ok. I did not. I looked like that drunk white girl at a frat party who was stumbling about telling everyone how much she loves everyone. She’s annoying. Her face is falling off and her chaperone needs to come get her. 

(I can’t claim to be that different because I get drunk and tell people I love their eyebrows. In my defense, fancy eyebrows might as well be art.)

Anywho, I tried to fix it. Changing lipstick or toning it down. I only proceeded to turn into the drunk aunt with drifting lipstick. (Or that one time at the ball where I drank tooo much gin then got belligerent. I’m sorry hot husband.)

Not to self: GIN DOES NOT SAVE LIVES
So while de-makeuping I was brushing my eyebrows out with a tooth brush which is separate from my actual tooth brush and somehow stabbed myself in the eyeball.

When I say that I would rather go blind then ever feel that again I’m not joking. That shit felt like getting an angry tattoo on my cornea. 

My eye still hurts and its been an hour.  

So I can’t talk to you about liking yourself today. I dont like myself at all. But, collectively, we should hate ourselves a bit less. Even if you fail at becoming an instagram level make up artist. Maybe its not so much even liking yourself as it is accepting yourself in your current state.

So, here is an effort to hash out the things that make me weird and awesome. You should make a list too, because I bet you’re wicked cool. 

1. One of my eyelids droops more than the other. And if I’m tired or drinking it’s even worse.

2. Pretty sure my lips are uneven. Also I’m pretty sure I get lipstick on my teeth MORE THAN ANYONE. JESUS CHRIST.

3. I have scars on my knees that look like bruises. They are all from tripping over my own feet which leads me to my next point.

4. I’m pigeon toed as a motherfucker

Ignore everything else and look at my feet in this picture.

AS A MOTHERFUCKER.

5.  My lip hair has gotten darker in recent years so I have to try and make it look like I’m stashe-less in makeup. For some reason that just makes it worse. 

6. I’ve been overweight most of my life except for a handful of times. I’m overweight right now, but I work out and try to be healthy. I spend a lot of time trying to teach myself that I don’t need to be a certain weight. 

7. I hate bras. I’d rather freeboob life. I don’t really care if my nips bother you

8. My feet remind me of when the Beast from beauty and the beast gets turned back to a human at the end. 

Yea, that guy. Actually in pretty much all of his lower body is me. 

9. I get rando dark hairs in strange places. Not to sound cliche, but I blame the entire French Canadian side of the family.

10. I legitimately have a hereditary mole on my ass. Yes. I shit you not (PUN). Three generations.

11. I suck at every sport except running and maybe yoga. When I was on sports teams, I was generally the resident fuck up.  Zero coordination. 

12. I tap my head when I have a panic attack. 

13. When I cry, I get snot everywhere. Its like my body is producing phlegm just for fun. Hot husband has gotten alot of snot on him. 

14.  I hate spandex underwear. They give me wedgies because of my big ass. 

15. I’m obsessed with my hair. For this reason, I literally can’t stop buying shampoo. Its an addiction. I have like five different kinds not including conditioner. WHY DO I FALL FOR THE MARKETING PLOYS EVERY SINGLE TIME?

In closing, I hope this brightens your day and makes you laugh. I’m going to continue eating this hummus thats going to my ass. 

The value of being alone

I’m sitting on the steps next to the palatul naţional eating a magnum ice cream cone and drinking seltzer water. 

Geographically speaking, I am generally without human interaction during my spare time. Although, when you have two dogs I don’t know if you can really say you’re alone. Animals being living beings and all. 

For the purposes of this post, I’ll focus on the whole human to human interaction bit. The hot fiance is on another continent and skype makes it easy to see each other everyday and we are in the same time zone, so our schedules are similar. But, when I leave the comforts of home to go to a restaurant or other things, he can’t come with me. 

We have been apart for two years on May and there were alot of times I felt trapped in my house living in a foreign country with not alot of the language and the hot fiance in Pakistan.

So when I came to Moldova I tried to become more comfortable doing recreational things alone. And I’m generally happy left to my own devices anyway. I just needed to transplant that happiness to activities outside the house. 

Now, you may be saying, “why don’t you just make friends.” And my only response would be that I have some aquantiances and I enjoy them on occasion, but I would wager that fifty percent of the ability to make friends is having a demographic that fits your own available to you.  And even if it is, I’ve never been a friend magnet anyway. 

I’ve strayed from my point, but learning to do enjoyable things on your own is a good experience. You are the only person in your life that’s never going to leave. Figuring out how to enjoy your own company is not a bad thing. Going to restaurants or events alone isn’t as scary as you think it is. Sometimes you might feel like you are being judged, but really no one cares.

So, have an adventure.