Nothing is permanent. Especially the good stuff. Sometimes, when the fog of anxiety clears, you think it’s all over. You think that it’s over, FINALLY. You come out of a funk, you clean your room and get all the shit off of the floor, and light one decrepit Bath and Body Works candle from 2009 and relax. In a perfect world that is where the credits would roll. BUT we do not live in a perfect world, and the anxiety will come back like some terrible Mean Girls 2 sequel. I sat in my office at work, feeling the walls cave in, on your average Tuesday morning, trying to catch my breath and sweating. If someone had asked me what was wrong the answer would be “nothing” or “I don’t know”, and it wouldn’t be a lie. Generalized anxiety is stupid and it happens any time for any and all reasons.
Then, while scrolling instagram searching for the perfect InStAgRaM story (follow me here), I saw something revolutionary. It was a quote that said:
You wanna know something? I love trashy TV. The trashier the better actually. After having to use my nice people voice all day (seriously, why do we do that and who even IS that person?), there is nothing better than watching Pauly D scream at people in a mocking tone of his own voice.
Teen mom has seemed to get away from me.
First of all, if you have NOT watched Jenelle Evans’ straight up road rage episode, watch it now. Home girl has lost her whole mind. She put Jace in an unbelievable amount of danger. Which I am sure she did not think she was doing because she’s an NRA groupie, and her gun would save them from whatever danger she was leading them into. (not saying it wouldnt save them, but what if that dude also pulled out a gun and was a little less stable). Secondly, Jace was not phased one bit during this entire thing, just like he was on a leisurely car ride, so, you know he’s seen some shit.
So, I’ve been gone, living the post graduate life.
I got a job. In the field I have studied for. The field I spent five years studying. SO….why am I so sad and empty? Was Graduate school the honeymoon phase of my life? God that’s so sad. I considered just getting a PhD because apparently school was the best thing since sliced bread. Until I came across a post on facebook. The. Post. Graduate. Slump.
I wanted to share something with you guys. WordPress keeps telling me the readability “needs improvement” in large red letters. Well thats because ITS BORING. It is my masters independent research project. There are no pictures, or headings with the appropriate amount of words underneath (because there are thousands of words underneath bitches). Anyways, this took me four entire months, draft after draft, sweat, panic, citations, more panic about accidentally plagiarizing, eye strain, probably carpal tunnel from typing eight thousand words, and ignoring my friends. But I got through it, and turned it in, and realized I did all that work and research for a grade and my professor to read it. Back to the external hard drive to collect dust. Um, no thank you. Im going to leave it here so that you all can read ALL OF IT, my entire 27 page paper, because you LOVE ME. Also, who knows, maybe this could be a good resource for someone, scholarly or real life. Enjoy.
(I’ll add a couple pix, maybe it will bump up its “readability”)
As I watch the final episodes of 13 Reasons Why, I want to recap this shit.
I’m not ready to talk about the Royal Wedding yet, okay? So, this is where we are right now.
There are obviously spoilers up in here. You’ve been warned.
13 Reasons Why Season 2 proved to be just of a hot mess as the first.
The book? Fantastic! The first season depiction? It was actually kind of good, and entertaining. It showed a dramatized version of how awful high school could be. UNTIL — they did what they did to Hannah’s scene. It was supposed to be pills, it was quiet, peaceful, and easy. They needed a shock factor. So, they did what they did, and I hated it. Then they stuck up for it, and I hated it even more. That is where they lost me for good, I won’t be a fan, but I’ll watch it. It is entertaining.
Alrighty, lets get started.
I took my first Women and Gender Studies class on accident in 2012. A class had gotten cancelled and that was the only class that fit in that time slot. I remember sitting at the kitchen island, mentally preparing myself for the armpit hair and Birkenstocks I was about to see. Rehearsing my best “men are pigs” speech. And then…..I got there.
And it was NONE of those things. Everything society had fed me about feminism was wrong, because feminism was fucking great. Just about equality, both genders looking out for each other to make everything great. There weren’t man haters there, and there were only like 3 hairy armpits! It was amazing. I learned about gender equality, while also learning about everyone else who experiences inequality, getting to hear their stories and their fights for equality as well.
I just couldn’t believe the whole world wasn’t on board with this, I mean, it wasn’t hurting anyone else to help those others achieve equality. (most people think feminism was about rising above men, and wanting to be better, but it wasn’t that at all. We just want to get some more rights). So, whatever, aside from your radial uncle on facebook talking about women wanting to take over men, I thought everyone would love this shit.
I mean, I was like one class shy of a minor in Women and Gender Studies. I was about that life. It just made sense to me? Lets all work together and be some god damn bad asses!
That was until it just stopped making sense to me.
Ever since I was little I can remember loving the feeling of pressure on me. Not the inside pressure, where I had to decide if I was going to begin my forgery career, or just admit to my teacher my mom did NOT sign my agenda and I would be sitting inside for recess. (I’ll let you choose what one I decided on) What I mean is, like when a friend sits on you in, what I can only assume, an attempt to kill you. They’re screaming at you “DOES THIS HURT??!” and you’re laying there like……ummm…actually it doesn’t and this is great. Same thing as when my cat, on an extremely rare occasion (I’m talking rare like my cousin showers AND brushes his teeth in the same day rare) sits on my chest. Im like, oh my god live here on my chest forever please. It just felt so calming? What an odd thing. Or so I thought.
Turns out….It’s not actually that weird.
It is like an actual thing that helps people. Something about Deep Touch Pressure, and how it can reduce activity in the nervous system, or even go as far as like the pressure, like a hug, releases serotonin and endorphins and other science shit. Nobody ever told me this life changing information. I stumbled upon it when I discovered…*drum roll please*…..
I typed a whole post out on this but deleted it because I got DERAILED. I’m so easily distracted, one minute I’m trying to write some real shit and the next minute I’m typing paragraphs talking shit about some super blogger named Karen.
I DON’T WANT TO WORK 90 HOURS A WEEK SHARING MY OWN SHIT ALL OVER MY OWN SOCIAL MEDIA SO I CAN MAKE MONEY BLOGGING, I JUST WANT TO BLOG. I WILL DO IT MY OWN WAY AND THE MONEY WILL COME. SORRY YOU FEEL THE NEED TO ANNOY EVERYONE FOR A QUICK BUCK.
Okay, I got it out, and its out there.
But for real….
I’m me, thats never going to change. No matter how much I want it to. I want to be fit, and work out, and eat healthy and be trendy. So, I try to do those things and it just never works. THEN I hate myself because it doesn’t work.
Not be confused with the looking glass self. Instead of the looking glass self, where you conform to what people perceive you to be, what if you could look inside other peoples glass? and see what they perceive themselves to be?
You know those people you follow who have it all together? You know the ones, the ones who did great in high school? The ones who went to college and somehow had a social and academic life? Got married? All while seemingly have not ever had a Itneybray Earspray 2007 meltdown? Yeah, me too, and I envied them forever. Every milestone I hit, I compared to when those perfect people accomplished it. “Only a few years behind” I would tell myself. I just could NOT believe how easily these people got things accomplished, like it was handed to them silver platter after silver platter.
I spent a lot of time envying them. The only things being handed to me were medical bills on a closeout TJMaxx chipped platter. All while I was having meltdown after meltdown. They looked like super models and were taking amazing trips. While I looked like a low budget zombie from Thriller and haven’t even left my bedroom in five consecutive days. I hated them.
Well, I hated them up until about 3 hours ago, until I had an epiphany.
First of all, is it travel anxiety or is it just real ass anxiety? It is almost impossible to tell. I feel like travel anxiety is all your regular anxieties, heightened because of the fact you do not get to be at home. However, whatever it is, its god awful. I almost passed up the opportunity of a lifetime because I was too nervous to leave. Just think of all the things that could go wrong! Do I have something in my carry on thats going to flag me as a terrorist? Is my checked bag being thrown around all willy nilly? What if I miss my flight even though I’m 2 hours early?
So, thats what I did, thought of all the minute things that could go wrong. My friend did the honors of googling the chances of plane crashes, and dying in plane crashes. Which are somewhere in the 1 in 5.5 million of a plane crashing. So, then I had to prepare myself for what to do in the event of a plane crash. They say not to take your stuff with you, but like, I am absolutely taking my stuff. What if we’re stranded on a remote island (somewhere between Ohio and Burbank CA) and I need a blanket, or the 5th Harry Potter book?? Yeah nice try Amanda the flight attendant, but I’ll be taking my stuff.