writing as release
New Year New (Nicer to Myself) Me
As I write this, I'm deleting file after file of to-do lists that now seem a bit unreasonable. Now, they aren't "climb Mount Everest", but they are equivalently large to where my life is now. A quota amount of money to save by a certain date, number of pages to read, miles to run. All geared towards self-improvement, but I'm realizing these goals are taking the joy out of activities I used to love. The constant reminder ping on my phone or sticky notes left around my room add to the growing anxiety I put on myself.
I have three dogs and I love them all. But not equally. Yes, I am a dog owner admitting that I do have a favorite dog. I promise you that it does not show in the affection I give to them when I come home from a long work day, but it is apparent in the way I speak about them when I am asked about my furry friends.
"It gets better"
I'll be the first to admit, and not in a self-defeated way, that I am difficult to be in a relationship with. Now, this is not the first thing I add in my Tinder bio (shoutout to Hinge, that's how my partner of two years and I met) but I do notify romantic interests about my mental health pretty early on.
A Letter to You
Try your best not to wake up three times in the middle of the night. Mom and dad fight enough as it is, you don’t need to cause another fight about who gets more sleep than the other. Try not to make a mess when they change your diaper, this only makes for embarrassing stories to be told at parties when you’re older, trust me. When learning to walk, don’t reach out to grab the corners of furniture or walls; life moves fast, so you better get used to learning at the same speed. On the day of your fourth birthday, please try to refrain from taking scissors to your curly brown hair. Mom gets rather flustered and does a worse job trying to fix your impromptu haircut than you could’ve done yourself.
the thoughts beat down like an onslaught of waves, over and over When I was first diagnosed, I had a few misconceptions on what it actually meant to have obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). The main stream media portrayed OCD as ritualistic counting, cleaning, and organizing. I sat at home wondering why I wasn't afraid of germs and why I hadn't flipped the light switch on and off 7 times before climbing into bed.