I don’t know what’s going to get me where I am supposed to go. I don’t even know where I am going most of the time. Chasing a star I think, chasing my heart a lot. My heart is so sensitive though. My heart is so chaotic. It wants and yearns for now, now, now! My heart is there, why hasn’t the world caught up with my heart yet? My heart is saying, “I am here, take me where I belong! World, hello! Can you hear me?”
That sound used to reverberate back. It’d tell me, “Yes you’re on the right path. Yes you are.” What is right though anymore? What constitutes something as being right? Is it the path of the righteous? Is it the path of the rich? Is it the path of fame? Is it the path of love? What is the right path? What if there is no right path?
Every misstep, I take a fall. I look back and say maybe that wasn’t the greatest move. Maybe it still was though. I just didn’t know it. I keep falling these days. Falling on a job I don’t like. Falling on an emotion I don’t want to feel. Falling on an audition that I wanted to get. Falling on crazy emotion whirling inside of me. Falling to anger. Falling to jealousy.
I wonder if I’ll hit the ground. Where will I be after all this falling? Maybe I am falling so that I’ll land in a magical world like Alice in Wonderland. Maybe everything is so confusing not because that’s just “life,” but because I am on my way. Maybe my way just consists of being off balance a lot and in this unpredictable freefall. Maybe somehow that’s going to lead me to where I want to go. Maybe that’s the most fun part anyways. The time that passes before the landing.
The jumping out of the plane. Into the unknown. Then falling. Just falling. Keep on falling until you land and realize that you had to fall. You had to fall to get where you’re going. Maybe that’s why I am falling.
See, I thought that when I got in a relationship, that everything would flow together so simply. I figured we would float on hand-in-hand being able to secretly read each other’s minds, and fill that gaping hole that exists in both of us. I thought we would fall together like a beautifully draped window frame overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Birds would sing, and so would we, because happiness and joy would constantly overcome us and our special time together.
Sure, that happens. Sometimes. There are times when I am cuddled up in my boyfriend’s arms and I feel so warm and special that I never want to leave that place. There are times when he surprises me with things like Disneyland on my birthday that makes my heart skip a beat. There are times when I look at him and I feel so lucky because of how well he treats me.
There are also times where things are so hard that I don’t know how I am going to make it to the next day. Looking at someone in a relationship face-to-face everyday is a real test of all the scars that we have come to accumulate over the years. All those things I have been hiding for so long are now directly in front of me.
During therapy and a psychology course, I learned something valuable. I learned, in more or less words, that whatever bothers us in someone else is because we see it in ourselves. I’ve written on this before. Whatever bothers you about someone else, let’s say you notice how someone’s appearance isn’t right, it is because you are self-conscious of your own appearance. If you say people are so “judgmental,” it is because you feel judgmental yourself, and on and on and on.
So, getting in a relationship to me is putting a direct mirror on my beautiful partner to all my own insecurities. It is scary sometimes. I see him get angry. It frustrates me so much because I fear anger. I fear anger because I grew up in a household that wasn’t always quiet. Things got loud and my home could be very chaotic at times. Being with someone makes me see how much that did effect me and how much it still does. It gives me anxiety. I am not naturally “touchy” because I never saw that kind of vulnerability in my home.
When my partner does certain things, it will trigger something in my past, and I do not react to him, I react to what happened to me in the past. This isn’t always of course, there are certain times that he really drives me up a wall and I do the same to him. That is when we have to have actual conversations. Serious conversations are another thing I am not well-versed in. I try though, and we work through things with our words, in the best way that we can.
Being in a relationship, if you’re doing it honestly with one another and trying to show your true face (as well as you can) is really a test. It is a test to see if you can see those things in yourself (that you don’t like) in your person and accept them anyways. It is a test to see if you can let things go. It is a test to see if you can forgive. Them and you. It is a test every day.
I know that I have a tendency to talk in a tone that is less than sweet. I don’t do it on purpose and I honestly don’t know that I am doing it when it happens. Sometimes I can come off as very mean though. I’d heard it from my mom sometimes that I’d have these fits of moods that I couldn’t seem to shake myself out of, that I could be really, really mean if I wanted to. Sometimes, I put that meanness on my partner because of something going on inside me, and I don’t even know that I’m doing it!
He is a direct reflection. A reflection for me to see him in all his wonderful flaws and be with him anyways. To accept myself for all my wonderful flaws. A relationship to talk about what bothers me. A creation of space to be able to lay our masks on the table.
Jealousy is an emotion I have never been fond of. I always thought jealousy was weak. If I didn’t get something that I wanted and someone else did, it was never meant for me. Little did I know… There was jealousy underneath that well put together facade. There was. I never let it show though. I had some excess build up in this relationship from all my years of “playing it cool.” There have been people in my past that I wanted to be in a relationship with, and I watched them walk away in another’s arms, like it was no big deal at all. It showed strength, or so I thought.
I know now that front was a lie. It was a shield to my heart. It was a cover up to not show what was truly inside of me. Showing my heart was impossible back then. When my parent’s divorced, I didn’t cry or vent once about it for 6 years. I think I had so much pain pent up in me and so many walls over my heart, I didn’t know what I was doing was untruthful. What is really inside me can be a real fuck-up sometimes. She can be jealous, hateful, mean, and come up with crazy scenarios. She can still think all of that needs to be tied with a nice ribbon, not honest. I’ve done my best to stop using the ribbons, and to get completely honest.
In my relationship, I have a place to talk about the things that upset me. I used to feel this paralytic sensation when I would want to tell someone how I felt. If I wanted to express jealousy or hate, I’d clam up and say nothing at all, or tell a joke. Now I can walk through all of that silence and break it. I can express my hurt and my pain without fear. We have a white board in our living room. It has a column on it that says “values” and a column that says “feelings.” This is what we want to give light to in our house. Honesty is the first word on that board.
My partner talks about his feelings often. He does so much more than I do. This gives me the opportunity for growth. He has shown me how to let what is inside come out, no matter how scary it is. I can talk about the fear that surrounds that. I have got to show him a different way of treating himself, of self-care that can ease his mind in times of stress. We have helped each other grow, of this I am sure.
While thinking a relationship was going to be all butterflies and no effort, I kept my heart safe. I remained naive and ignorant of what a relationship is. A relationship is work. No one ever said that to me. At 27, maybe those words came a bit late, but I am happy that they came. A relationship is working through good and not so good times. It is being so mindful of one another. It is working together to make a comfortable space to share our spirits. It’s ever-changing, just like the world around us. Like my life, views, wants, and needs all continue to change, so too do we.
Today, we are all so focused on being better versions of ourselves. Including me. I am practically the poster child for trying to be “better.” What is important has shifted. In the baby boomer days, love and peace spread. With that, came resistance. After that our parents’ generations came. They saw the carefree spirits of their parents and took a more orderly path. They got the jobs in the offices, in the factories. They aspired to one day grow to the top of the company they worked for. Then, there is this generation. The generation of technology. We are free in that we believe we can do anything we set our minds to. We are trapped in thinking that we can do anything we set our minds to…
What happens when a beautiful, innocent girl gets her innocence taken away? What happens when it’s from the one man she is supposed to trust? What happens when a dad loses his son? What happens when a father leaves his family? What happens when a son is told by his mother that he’s not enough? What happens when a girl who got made fun of all of high school starts cutting herself through adulthood and no one knows why she’s so secluded? What happens when a boy is touched inappropriately before he knows what sex is? What happens then? Is posting inspiring things on your social media page helping them? Is starting a charity? Is alcohol? What about sobriety? Will that help them?
What happens when it is not okay? What happens when the pain is so much deeper than anyone can imagine? All of the media today will only trap minds and make these inner children feel like there is something so mechanically flawed in them. The trauma of their past, which has likely been blocked out, will remain.
The reason kids are bringing guns to school. The rise of the media. The reason the suicide rate is skyrocketing. The reason why treatment centers and sober homes are a billion dollar industry. Our society doesn’t talk about emotions; we don’t talk about trauma. We say that “happy” is the only way to be. The best way to be. It is not an honest way to be. No one is happy all the time. The 7 human emotions I found in the randomness of the interweb in which I am not sure are even valid (BECAUSE THERE IS SO MUCH SHIT ON THE INTERNET) are: anger, fear, disgust, happiness, sadness, surprise, contempt.
So 1/7 of those emotions are happy. These are natural human emotions according to some field of tested sciences, so “only being happy” we are denying so much of the human experience. As kids, we were told not to be angry or scared or sad or hate, we shoved those feelings aside thinking they were not “right”. Kids today are doing the same. With the rise of technology, these kids are CONSTANTLY REMINDED how happy they are “supposed to be.” It is flawed. We thought something was wrong with us if we felt these emotions too often. We turned into robots walking around pretending to be happy all the time (including me.)
Then… because some feel these emotions so intensely, drown themselves in alcohol or drugs or the internet to escape the feeling. They didn’t see what underlined the action, or think about how the feeling would pass. They numbed. They numbed themselves because it was too much. I used to drown my pain. The choice of sobriety has allowed me to feel everything. Maybe what I was escaping wasn’t the effect of the alcohol, as I thought it was, maybe it was the feeling I thought I was not allowed to feel.
There is nothing wrong with feeling. There is nothing wrong with pain. It isn’t easy though. When it’s not okay, it especially isn’t easy. When we aren’t okay, it’s okay to not be okay. To feel that up to its’ entirety. It’s really just truth. We can’t heal when we don’t feel our truth. For all those inner children that have been destroyed, feel that pain, recognize it, and move through your story. That’s what I hope to do, and what I hope to inspire too.
I wrote this two years ago. Now, as I read back, I see what I can do to those people who’s inner child was taken from them, I see what I can do for the helpless child in myself. I can love. I can love that person. I can love me. That, that is the only thing that I can do when it is not okay. Sometimes love requires no action at all. That is often the most difficult thing to do, yet sometimes love means stepping aside to let that person find their way.
Sometimes I think, where did my ambition go? Sometimes as I am looking out at the window at my job, I wonder why that burning fire isn’t as strong as it used to be. That burning flame inside of me that tells me what I want in life. A successful, actress. Right? That’s been the goal for almost four years now.
I almost quit acting this year. When I got back from Spain, I felt a deep dissatisfaction with acting as a career path. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe it could happen. Well, of course it was that too, but what if I held off on living because of what I could have in the future? I really just didn’t know anymore. I started a psychology class at a university to possibly get my Masters and move on to become a therapist. Ah, a clear route towards a career choice. And to learn about the mind? To learn about people, humans. How brilliant would that be?
Similar to acting in ways, my curiosity could still be satisfied with psychology. The first few classes were amazing, I was about 80% sure I was ready to make the jump. The $70,000 of college loans jump to get my masters. Mm. I let some time pass. I didn’t want to be so haste as to commit after just taking a few courses. An impulsive move I’d likely have made at one point. So I gave myself until 2020 to possibly go back. Creativity though? The art of it. Science is an art in its’ own form, but certainly a different kind than the one possible with film making. Interesting? Yes, 100%. But the path for me? I wasn’t so sold yet.
When I got back from Spain, I felt this new energy awaken in me. It wasn’t energy of ambition or drive. It was an energy of subtleties, of community, of finding my place in this world. It was like I got back and less mattered in a way. Acting didn’t matter as much because I knew that as long as I still found a place for it in my life, I’d be okay. Finding a place to live in L.A. after I got back was hard. Places kept falling through. Maybe L.A. wasn’t going to work for me. The failure of finding a place didn’t hurt me the way that it once would have. Again, I felt that if it wasn’t happening, then the pieces would fall as they may. And that was okay.
Maybe I came back with a bit more “let go” in me. A bit more “let go” of what I think I am supposed to do and be. “Let go” of the relationship I think I should have. “Let go” of the place I think I am supposed to live. “Let go” of it all and see what stays. See what is going to stay. See what I want to stay.
I have spoke of the time in Spain, and it is certainly different than Los Angeles. But I went to the desert this past week, and again I feel the time softer there too. Softer time. I saw the stars in the sky on the drive to Arizona. I saw more stars than I’d ever seen. I looked. I stopped and I looked. There was no destination in that moment. That’s what Spain gave me. Time. To ask myself if just because acting was what I had been doing, if it was what I wanted to keep doing. To ask myself if I just didn’t want to quit because I’d already done so much. I got to look at what was behind me and not judge that. I could only see around me for a time.
I finally felt the time clock stop on me finding a serious relationship. I didn’t feel the embarrassment that would come when someone asks me if I’d found someone yet. That clock has most certainly been the loudest ticking in my life. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I wasn’t giving enough or I wasn’t being enough or I wasn’t showing enough or I wasn’t putting enough effort.
That exhausting ticking clock had finally started settling. It felt so magical and putting it into words does too. Because I have not been in a serious relationship for 9 years. That does not mean there is something wrong with me, it means that I haven’t found the right relationship to be in. I finally believe that, and that is because I don’t hear the clock anymore.
I visited a guy in Spain. Fell a bit mad for him too in the short time I was there. He was sweet. And we got along. And together, we created this beautiful energy. I was so sad to leave him. Also, angry in ways too. I wanted more out of the short time we had together. That wasn’t fair for me to want more for either of us. I would return to California and he to his life in Europe.
But I felt that I needed to do more, if I just did more, we could be more, and it could last. Maybe. But, that, you see that was the clock. Same with acting. If I could just do more, I would get more. I held onto the idea of what I wanted so badly. I held onto the idea of him for longer than necessary when I returned. Only today did something in me spark, and show me in what ways meeting him and getting to know him freed me. Only recently have I been able to thank the art of acting for all it has given me.
Let go. Of what that relationship was supposed to be. Of what my career is supposed to look like. Of what my friends should look like. Let go of thinking there should be a clear path to my future. Let go of anything that “should” be anyway. Coming back brought me a new found peace. A new found patience. A respect for what has already happened. A waiting to see what unfolds. A life already in this waiting.
If you would have asked me a month ago why I didn’t have social media, I would tell you it’s because I think it is destroying the world. I think it is torturing young minds and creating a constant comparison scenario between “friends” unconsciously. I would say it is hurting relationships and creating jealousy where jealousy need not be. It is promoting actions “online” that should have never happened. It is giving people false senses of gratification.
I would tell you Facebook owns Instagram, and everything you post is being analyzed and sold, so that your online advertising is targeted for you to consume more. More. Social media is making you want more. Buy more. Be more. I would tell you social media has turned people into products. Products that are being sold. Advertising once used words, images, films to promote sales… now we use people. An influencer is a product, and a product that is being bought over and over again. I would tell you social media has created more evil than good. I still believe those things and as I type that fiercely now, I stand by all of that.
But…
I also know the real reason I stopped doing social media is because it hurt me. I have also hurt others by it. I had a dream last night, that reminded me how I had once hurt people with social media. My ex boyfriend in high school started dating someone that was my friend (but his first) when I started college. They were both in my dream, and I remembered what I had done after I found out (via social media) about the two of them. I had started posting mean things on facebook about her. I was slanderous towards her, because I was so hurt. I turned my group of friends against her and we would post things about her in our group page. I would post pictures I had with her with sarcastic captions.
Now flash to this year when I deleted it on January 2nd, 2019. I had already created a very good habit (I think) to go on only once a week. It is the day after New Years, in which I spent ALONE trying to gather my solitary self and just be OKAY. I had recently been demoted from my corporate job and was working at this shitty ass motel. I went on good ol’ instagram. First post, one of the person that I loved in college with his new girlfriend. The next one, the guy that I had lost months before with his new girlfriend. Something inside of me re-broke into many, many, many pieces. It really hurt me this time. It really hurt me. These pictures, broke me at a time when I really needed support or a hand to hold.
This hurt me enough to delete all of it. I decided enough is enough for me. I decided it wasn’t worth having anymore. I wasn’t giving much to it anyways, and it certainly was not giving to me. Looking back now, do I think it was irrational? Maybe. I still think it was right though. For me, it was right. Eventually I would have come to this conclusion. Each time I would gorge my time on social media, I felt something in my gut like what I was doing was wrong. It certainly was a time consumer. Not to mention all these images going through my brain as fast as they were, is that healthy? Is my brain equipped for all of this?
It wasn’t fair that I had to see what I didn’t have anymore. I was in an unhealthy place mentally, yes. I was very sad and hurt already, yes. Did those pictures and memories for someone else need to be in my face though? In my moment of weakness, did I also need to see that? I don’t want to hurt people and I don’t want them to hurt me with something like social media. I don’t think anyone that has “hurt” me on social media has done it intentionally either. If we all got a little more mindful though, maybe we’d see that our “sharing” could be hurting someone somewhere.
Maybe I think too deeply and feel a lot and then I put it in these words, but I know a deeper part of everyone feels this way too. I know it. I wanted to be honest about why I don’t have social media. It is because it hurt the hell out of me.
If it has hurt you too or if you’ve hurt people, it is possible to live a life without it. And it’s a deeper life, because social media lives in the shallow. Just because the world says this is what you do now, that does not mean that that is what you have to do. We all live in this world and social media is a choice like anything else. You decide what is best for you.
In second grade, I was a sweet little angel. The world was sweet. So I was sweet. I was quiet, and did my very best in school. I got A’s on my report card and never complained. Then my brother came into the world. He would push my limits. As much as I tried to keep my cool with him, I realized I had to fight for survival. It was the only way. I let him annoy me uncontrollably until age 10, when I realized I could beat him up, and I would successfully do that for many years. By third grade, I am bullying the boys on the 4-square court. I would tell them that they sucked a lot at everything, and I would always say I could beat them in any sport we played. I had a unibrow too, so I was tough. Real tough. I was “cool.” Yeah, real cool in third grade.
Growing up, I started to realize that I run on extremes. When I’ve been bad, I’ve been bad. When I’ve been good, I’ve been real good. I lost myself trying to be the most rebellious girl, and again trying to be the perfect saintly girl. The truth is my core was closer to the rebellious girl. By nature… but I am not only one thing. I am not only this saint who doesn’t like to be wild ever, nor am I the girl who was falling over and embarrassing herself at the party. Although I have been both of those things, I am neither one or the other. I always felt that I had to choose one though. As of the past few years, the saint girl has been running the show.
I went to Spain during the month of August. It had ups and it had downs. Some parts were amazing, some parts were not. I loved. I hated. I got kicked out of an air bnb. I got in a verbal fight with the owner of the place. Don’t you judge me, though. What did happen was some serious miscommunication and (likely) some already bias toward my American-woman self and his Russian-man self. I can’t be absolutely sure why it went as awry as it did, but I did stand up for myself.
In a time where before I know I would have avoided this… where my “sweet persona” would have taken over, where the “no it’s okay, avoid all conflict” from the little buddha breathing down my neck would have taken flight, I fought. I fought him when I was certainly in a state of less power. I stood up for what I wanted. If you want specifics, go read the air bnb reviews, because no way am I repeating this story again.
My point is…
We are not all just one thing.
After I stopped being a kid anymore, I always thought that I had to choose. I am this. I am that. I am too masculine. I need to be more feminine. I am “bad.” I am “good”. I am “cool”. I am this. I am that. I wasn’t that kid anymore who just did what she had to do, and didn’t overthink every little thing. Fighting became “bad” too, no no, none of that. No need for bad here. Only peace here. No need to stir anything up. I am so at peace. Do you hear me? Nothing you do phases me! Right…
I wanted to say I hate you. I wanted to say you are wrong. I wanted to say don’t do that, it hurts me. But I bit my tongue and I didn’t say what I wanted, because I am being “good.” I say nothing because I am being “peaceful”. That is a lie. Every time I played “peaceful” when I wanted to fight, I felt deep anxiety. The fight and flight response in me lit up. The fire in me wanted to breathe. It wanted to come out so badly, but I wouldn’t let it. I wouldn’t let it speak the truth!
My truth, and I think the truth of everyone is… I am feminine. I am masculine. I am saint. I am sinner. I am peaceful. I am wild. I am all these things at once. It took all these experiences up until now, and I think Spain, for me to see that. Going to Spain awakened the fighter in me. Maybe my Latina bloodline fed me my medicine I needed to wake up to my natural self. A little bit of the “bad.” The real.
The fighter in me has been shut out for so long. I think she scared me.
I know not every fight is worth fighting… not even close, but some most certainly are. I have to fight, and the saint doesn’t fight. Life won’t always be pretty like my meditation tells me every day. It won’t. And I don’t want pretty all the time. I won’t grow with pretty. I won’t change. I want to live and be crazy and wild and sweet and soft all in one. I am all of these things. I am done labeling myself as all one thing, or thinking that I am all one thing because I am not. I can be sweet and I can be mean. I am up and I am down. I am me. That’s all I can be.
There’s a girl, 26, sitting on a green velvet chair at a small wooden table. Her tennis shoes without laces are off and her feet are playfully tucked in her socks, which are resting in crisscross applesauce quaintly on the chair under her. She has her hair up because the heat outside is hardly bearable. The buildings in her eye line are carved of stone and have details that only remain commonplace with royalty. There are motorcycles going past on the street with two people on them. Cars, too, smaller than she knows. Shadowed foot steps are passing by on the cobblestone side walks, as well as beautiful tanned skin. Barcelona.
She looks down from the window and notices a black fly has flown into her half-filled cappuccino coffee cup. She scoops it out with her spoon and onto the white plate in which her cup resides. The fly is struggling. He is lying in a small puddle of coffee. She moves it with no respite. She desperately wants the fly to get back up and fly again. He’s so close, but he can’t seem to get up. She can’t help him either. The flies’ body turns stagnant and its’ time has ended. It brings her sadness. Death is death after all, and she has always had a sincere empathy for all living beings.
The cappuccino slowly turns into an empty cup of foam and white ceramic. The girl is no-where near the home that she knows. She is quite a ways. As she sits as a foreigner in this far-away home, she ponders, per usual. In this moment, what she ponders is time.
This girl, she has grown to see time as something that needs to be optimized. It is something that needs to be used in the most appropriate fashion for ones’ future. Time should be spent on being the absolute best that one can be. It should be spent creating something that will last. She has the American dream down to its’ wits. More specifically… a Hollywood dream.
Ever since she graduated college 4 years ago, she has used her days to make money, and set herself up for later success. She planted seeds in her acting career, in her professional life, her mindfulness practice, and she’s stayed focused on watering these areas often. She saw time as something that was going to add up at the end of her life. If she didn’t use this time here “well” now, then her future was not going to be what she wanted. What she wanted?
Well… she became hyper-focused on the dream of being a successful actress, having a loving partner, and operating as an optimum efficient being. Time to her became what could happen in the future. Time to her became her meal ticket to success. She isolated herself often, and figured the isolation was only because this was the only way she was going to get to the top.
Time in this new place is different than what she knows. Time to the people in Spain seems to be something that is not counted. It is something that is blossoming each moment. Many people spend 1-2 hours in the middle of their day resting. Their dinners and lunches with each other last much longer than she’s ever known. The restaurants always have people dining at them, no matter what time of day. People are sipping their coffee slowly. They are drinking their wine delicately. They don’t feel a need to fill space with anything. Sometimes there is silence. Sometimes there is noise. She feels the flow of energy here. It has become alive in her, too.
She is taking bites of her food, and she is tasting it. All of it. She is losing weight, without the slightest of effort, because she is present with her meals, for once in her life. She is sipping her coffee slowly, and knowing it need not be finished by a certain hour. She is drinking her cappuccino like the beautiful prized dessert drink that it is. Each bite with a bit of brown sugar tasting oh-so-sweet. Albeit, she is on vacation, so she is in a certain escape of the ticking of the clock.
That is not what is bestowed upon her though. What is bestowed upon her is freedom. This is a freedom that someone from the United States, more specifically Los Angeles, may never know.
She feels the freedom of time. Time in Spain is not something that needs to be squeezed and penciled for weeks before hand. It is something that is unfolding with each new day. The energy is lighter, and the people are softer. They aren’t worried about what’s “next” or the “next” morning. They are just here. It is not uncommon for people to kiss strangers on the cheek. The cab drivers are happy. The community is knit together like a loosely- tied woven blanket.
As this girl observes time… she can’t help but ponder her own use of time. She ponders what she has given her time to, her life. She thinks of the times in her life that have served her most. These are when she was holding someone’s hand, when she was in a new place with friends, the times she got lostwriting. She wonders. Hmm? If these were the memories that mattered the most, why had most of the past 4 years hardly comprised of these times? Why had these moments come secondary to her very solitary, ambitious journey?
As she sits in the coffee shop, she can’t help but realize that somewhere along her journey, she had lost what time really meant to her.
Time is not only for the future. Time is here. It is everything happening right now. Death is imminent. Just like the fly in her drink. She knows no matter how well she tries to guess her future, time is not certain. That girl feels fear, because change is difficult. She doesn’t know how to continue, or how to adjust her life with these new lenses. She supposes the lesson is just that, though. To not know. All she knows is that she cannot go back to the way she was. As wise and observant as the girl is, she doesn’t know the future. She feels change breathing into her being. It feels right. That girl, that girl is me…
*not like my usual writing… perhaps a bit more raw and definitely a bit angry, also lacking in punctuation*
last night i had a dream that unsettled me deeply. there was a guy i used to date in it and he was so drunk that his eyes were rolling in the back of his head. and i went up to him and asked him what he was doing. it made me so angry i woke up just then at 1:30am in the morning. it really shook me. the dream was so dark and eerie that i got scared. i had to turn the light on above me which was ridiculously bright. i felt incredible anger towards him. i blamed my nightmare on his existence. i judged him. i judged him so fiercely. i woke up thinking what a loser he was for drinking so much, all the time. i judged, and judged, and got angry in my head. be nice, be nice, be nice. i kept repeating this, yet my mind continued to go to extremes and feed my anger more and more.
the anger continued on my commute to work. i hated it. commuting. i realized how much of my life i’ve wasted commuting. commuting is stupid. the guy at starbucks. i didn’t tip him. i always tip the guy at the coffee shop. be nice,be nice, be nice. his smile angered me though. i get to work. people are saying hi how are you, “i’m not great”, i say i’m fine but it’s easy to see on my face how i actually feel. i am angry at that guy from my nightmare for being a sloth in my dream. it repulsed me. i was so angry, with no where to put my anger. shall emotions need a place to be “put?”
i get behind the front desk. the first guy is this ultra nice dad. he is saying the people in the room above him kept him and his family up all night. he is going on about how unbelievable it is that anyone can possibly stay up the entire night. i asked him if he’d ever been them, and stayed up all night. not the right question for customer service, yeah i know. really not the right question. but i don’t know where it came from. he was nice though, so i gave him some money back and he was grateful. as that finished i write this now…
i asked the man in front of me to have some empathy for the people in the room upstairs. how could i – who is tearing apart an old flame (because of a DREAM) in my mind over and over again – tell this man that his feelings are wrong? how could i feel so high and mighty as to tell him to be compassionate? of course, this belief is at my core. to understand others and to put myself in their place whenever possible. but just saying that does not mean that i can always do that. be nice. be nice. be nice. but how, how could i possibly be nice in this moment? what if instead of telling myself to “be nice, be nice, be nice” i said “be curious, be curious, be curious.” maybe, then i could come from a place of authenticity. maybe then, i could come from an honest place.
because we all know. niceness is not always real. i feel the fake nice. i’ve seen the bullshit nice. the nice that is only nice to possibly get a return. i’ve been “that” nice before. many times. be nice, be nice, be nice doesn’t work for me anymore. curiosity, because maybe then, i’ll be able to dig deep and ask a question first. i’ll listen to why i don’t feel like being nice, because there’s a reason. i’ll listen to what is bothering me. i’ll listen to myself before i go out and take my anger out on people, or lie niceness to their face. i’m not saying don’t be nice and if you’re mad go hulk on the world (cough, dad), i’m just saying take a second. take a second to explore why that anger is there. don’t just cover it up with the niceness, because that is called repression.
a lot of times i played nice to feel safe. i was nice to get out of a hard confrontation. i “played” nice. i didn’t want to be nice. how many times have you seen emails signed kindly, or please, or happy whatever, when you know damn well that email did not come from a nice place. when you know it’s not real. “playing” nice is not real. playing nice is just suppressing what you feel inside. being nice is beautiful, but being nice all the time is not always truth. unless you’re buddha or a monk, if you live in this world i highly doubt you honestly feel good and nice all the time.
i’m off track though – judgment – all this begin because i saw someone else judge someone. or what i thought was judgment. instead of swallowing down niceness, i got curious. there right in front of me was my lesson for the judgment. by me calling the dad judgmental, i am expressing what is going on INSIDE of me. i only see this as judgment, because that is how i feel. he is not being judgmental. i only feel that he is judgmental, because i am feeling judgmental.
i tell this story to ask you what bothers you SO MUCH about people.
guesswhat? it bothers you because that is how you are. that is the only reason. you see in them what you see in yourself. i see it in every single person i know. in me, too of course. that’s why i try to shut up more than i used to. what you say bothers you is literally what you are. what you say about other people is how you see yourself. i swear it. also the reason i curse the guy in my nightmare’s existence is because i used to get very drunk and sloth like. i am judging him, because i used to be him. i hate his drunk because i hated my drunk. i hate him because i hated me. he is me.
so yeah, judgment. and nice. sometimes, the nice is not real. i guarantee you, curiosity is real though. because once you get curious about your negativities, and why you don’t feel like just being “nice” you’ll understand others too. look inward before you say anything about anyone. look, and you’ll see. this blog lacks any tie and ribbon on the top of it like most of my writing on my page, but this is written in honest emotion. it’s not “nice.” it’s real though. i didn’t even use proper capitalization. muahaha.
I have been going through a lot of changes in the past year. These changes include my habits, my way of thinking, my way of eating, my ways of doing, my way of feeling. I finally feel like I need to take a stand on some of the ways I have chosen. One in particular. I believe each person sees things so differently, and I work hard to never pass judgment, because I assure you, whatever someone is doing, I have likely been there before. There are certain things that I have discovered as I evolve that I want to stand for. I want to choose a side. I can only speak from my own experience, but that experience is valid and important, so here goes:
Alcohol —
I used to be a wild party girl in college. After I graduated, I knew that the alcohol pool of sustenance was not going to get me where I wanted to go. I slowed down, a lot. I was able to drink casually and have one drink at dinner if I wanted on the weekends. Every time I did though, some thing inside of me just felt wrong.
Alcohol alters chemicals in our brain. It can create a very pleasurable experience, or it can do the exact opposite. We have all seen the ways alcohol has impacted relationships in amazing and terrifying ways. For me, it has done both. I made many friends through alcohol, and lost many friends because of alcohol.
I gave up alcohol for six months last year (for the first time), went back to drinking for a month (because I couldn’t stand the painful feelings I was experiencing), and I am approaching six months sober again. I am not in AA. I do not consider myself an alcoholic. That thought has 100% crossed my mind in the past though. There was a period that I thought I was an alcoholic. Learning more about alcoholism caused me to think differently though. With that said, please don’t put me in an alcoholic box. Please don’t put me in a problem drinker box. Please don’t put me in an extra holistic and guru-y-fru-fru box. Only put me in the human experience box. With you.
I can say with certainty that alcohol is not healthy for the body or mind. Alcohol hinders our mind. It affects our body. Although the “memories” we have under the influence may feel amazing at the time, the experience is not genuine. One is not experiencing consciousness to it’s full capacity under any influence. Being drunk causes what we see to be altered. Are we truly seeing what is around us? Or are we lost in the drunk? When those “amazing” experiences are over, our then sober self takes for granted everyday life. It is no longer enough for us. Life is no longer play. Let me ask you… do you believe that you are making the best decisions for your life when you are under the influence?
Do you believe that the very best version of yourself is a byproduct of your drunken mind? What about the after effect? Do you believe your mind will reach it’s full capacity after a night of drinking? What about the next week? How long does it take for your body to be able to recover? Alcohol is socially acceptable, and a way of living in society. I understand it. I understand it because I used to live it. I dare you to question this norm though. Just question it.
It is as if we grow up and we are “learned” or “programmed” that this is the right way to do something. We start drinking when we are young and continue throughout our lives without thought. We just accept. You’re an adult now, your “fun” is going to be through alcohol now.
That’s nonsense… We used to be able to have fun. We used to be able to have fun without alcohol. We used to be able to swing on swings and climb on roofs and enjoy little small things without complaining. We used to be able to meet people and not immediately judge them. This was before the responsibilities, the life experiences, and the hurt, yes. This was before everything got so incredibly complicated and confusing.
I swear to you though, there is such a deeper appreciation and connection for the life around you without the alcohol. That kiss, that hug, that phone call, it can mean so much more when your mind is in it’s natural state. That childlike excitement to just dance, it is still there! I went to EDC two weeks ago, dead sober, and had the time of my life. EDC! That pure, untainted, child is still inside us. Why are we dimming that light?
Every time I drank… I felt that light dim. I heard that inner voice inside me, my conscious, my light, my God, anything you want to call it telling me my action was not right. It was telling me that alcohol was not going to get me the life I wanted. As a creator (we all are), I know I am the visionary of my own life. I knew that the drunken nights and the hangovers were not going to get me where I wanted to be. I knew that. I think everyone knows that, deep down. It is deep though. It is past the ego, it is past the voices of all the people around you, is it past what you have always “known.” It is something that is connected to everything itself.
I feel a full responsibility to myself and to this world to be the best person that I can be.
The hard part. The really hard part. Without alcohol, I cannot repress any emotions. You know, how sometimes, you “just need a beer.” Well, maybe you just need a beer, because that emotion that is surfacing doesn’t want to be felt. It is uncomfortable as hell. It is the fire, and it is challenging. We don’t want to feel it. I damn well know I don’t want to feel it. The emotion though, it wants to surface. It wants to come up. It has to come up. Whether or not we let it come to being, feeling, experiencing, giving it the time it needs, it will still remain. Our bodies are talking to us all the time! We just need some help learning how to listen.
These feelings, they are real. They demand our attention. We have to let them be free. The only way to do that is by feeling them. That means admitting they are there. It is not easy though. It is scary. It can feel very lonely at times, too. Sometimes I feel these waves of emotion are going to swallow me. Sometimes I feel I can’t be alone with my thoughts, because they are so strong. At which time, I reach out to some one. We are told our entire lives that our feelings are wrong. Being sad or mad is “wrong.” We should only feel happy, and we should not let our “bad” feelings show. Bewshit, bewshit, bewshit! (Forgetting Sarah Marshall)
How often do people grow up to learn worse? How often do we see people who live for the weekends? Who are only happy when they are intoxicated? That is not the life we were meant to live.
Without alcohol, I have gained an (even more) childlike view of life. A beautiful respect and appreciation for the littlest joys in life. To the swings. To coffee. To sand. To the sun. To a touch. It has given me a deeper connection to all life around me. That’s because without alcohol it is so much easier to “see” and to “feel.” To really see around me. To really feel, because there is absolutely no hiding from my emotions. When I am sad, I cry. When I am mad, I scream. When I am happy, I jump. I feel my emotions. This is not common for adults. It is free though. I definitely don’t do it in public (usually.) My roommates have got to experience a lot of me discovering this (I think they’re scared of me, sorry guys.) I am working on me though and doing the deepest self-work that I have ever done.
There is a term, grateful alcoholic. Although I don’t associate directly with the term, I am grateful that alcohol has gotten me into the trouble it has. Otherwise I would not be able to see this life that is on the other side of it. I would not be able to see this other way of living. I have a wild heart and a wild spirit. With alcohol, I could be crazy, but without it, I can reach something more. This is a potential only few will tap into. It is a super power. I promise.
At the end of the day, what kind of life do you want? Maybe you’ve never been in trouble because of alcohol. Maybe you only drink on the weekends (cough, everyone.) All those accumulated weekends over a lifetime though, they add up. Alcohol is poison. Alcohol is hindering. Body. Mind. Try letting it go for a little bit. I dare you. See what you feel. See what you see. See what you’ve been hiding from. It is scary, but maybe if you let it out, it will finally let you be.
INSPIRATIONS
Life Experience, Macklemore “The Heist” album, The beginning of some random podcast interviewing a guy that has a movement called “One Year, No Beer”, Crazy
Macklemore “Cowboy Boots”
So here's to the nights, dancing with the band Strangers into girlfriends from a one night stand Brought a little liquor and turn up the Johnny Cash You could bring a receipt to Heaven but you cannot take it back And this is life, this is real, even when it feels like it isn't I'd be a goddamn liar to say at times I didn't miss it So deuces, I turn my back as I walk into the distance Dip my feet in every once in a while, just to say I visit And we hold onto these nights Trying to find out way home by the street light Over time we figure out this is me, right Learn a lot about your friends right around two A.M
There are days when it all seems like too much. There are days when I cry in my car. There are days when I scream out loud. There are days when I feel like giving up. There are days when I see other people around me in relationships, see people with more security, see people partying the way that I once did. There are days when I wonder…
Am I being left behind?
I don’t like to drink. I don’t like social media. I don’t eat meat. I don’t like gossip. I don’t wear make up. I don’t like or do what I used to. I like yoga. I like reading. I like music festivals. I like acting class. I like to dance. I like tea. I like talking about out of this world ideas with people. I like to give up random things for weeks at a time to see if I can do it.
There are days when I remember who I used to be and what I used to like… and I miss that. I miss the wild drunken nights, I miss the sweet baby back ribs, I miss the shared hangover experience I’d share with people. I miss the old me sometimes.
So… I tried to revisit “the old me.” I re-introduced some of what I had dismissed (drinking, social media, and meat.) I awaited this blissful and enlightened state where I would realize that this was “who I am.”
Disappointingly, that was not my experience at all. That girl that I used to be, she wasn’t there anymore.
Going back to my old ways left me more empty than I could have imagined. Days later, I did yoga on the beach. I went to the movies by myself. I bought sweet kettle popcorn, cookies, and strawberry sparkling water and brought them into the movie theater. I saw Green Book. I went to the beach and danced to dozens of drums on the Santa Monica sands in my purple converse with my pal. I ate a coconut based cookie butter ice cream cone. I watched the sunset with my dog, Pj. All of this, this is perfect to me. This is what I do now.
I started going to the acting studio of my dreamsthis year. It was on my goal list and damnit, I got there. The people that I have met in this class have re-enforced me. They have shown me that I am not being left behind. I am just going a different way. I was never being left behind either.
I just hadn’t found the people to walk forward with yet.
I had never met people who don’t drink, don’t have social media, who are vegan, all in one until I found my acting studio. It is said to surround yourself with those on the same journey as you. I know I am on the right journey. I don’t need the old me anymore because I am a new me. I am finding my people. For that, I am grateful beyond words.
Acting is about understanding the human condition and being able to recreate that experience. The actor’s goal is to dig down so deep and understand ourselves so deeply so that we can share something. So that we can give something away in our work. That is acting. Some days I question why I chose this art, or why it chose me. Today, I don’t though.
Today I know that who I am becoming is so much more important than who I’ve been. I know the people around me feel that way too.
