Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Sadness’ Category

There are only a few things that bother me more than passive aggressiveness. It’s not healthy, it’s not proactive and it’s not straight up. Passive aggressiveness is the consequence when someone is unable to say no or “I don’t like this”. I think in our world today we tend to overcommit ourselves and spread ourselves too thin. Not to mention no one wants to be the “bad guy”, we don’t want to disappoint or hurt feelings. Part of me even believes that politeness is ruining our social society. It’s okay to not agree, feel hurt and be unable to do something for someone else and it’s alright to express those things. Communication is key and most of the time it’s not just the words but rather the delivery. People are sensitive, even the ones who pretend that they’re not (usually they are the most sensitive) and how you say something to someone can be more important than the words themselves. There’s no need to say “no” in a snide and annoyed way but rather “Ohh, bummer. I don’t think I’m going to be able to do that”. It’s easy. Try it. I love saying “no” (I promise I’m not a tease, though) and find it very liberating!

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

I’m feeling awfully guilty. Today, I went to the coffee shop to work and sat down at a table with another man. When I put my stuff down at the table he stood up, smiled and told me that he was a gentleman and would be honored to sit with such a beautiful girl. We shook hands and introduced ourselves, his name was Jim. I plugged myself in and after politely engaging in some conversation I was eager to put my headphones on and zone into my own world. I smiled and nodded at what Jim had to say hoping it would be enough to camouflage my impatience and irritation.  He told me he was a storyteller. “Great” I thought, “storytellers love to talk”. Then he asked if I knew the difference between a storyteller and a writer. I simply responded with “No”. I resigned to the fact that it was going to be awhile before I was going to be able to get any work done and switched gears. I told myself that someone was trying to teach me something in this moment and instead of resisting a lesson I needed to be embracing it. So, I listened. Jim went on and on. He spoke about Henry Kissinger, the Cuban Missile crisis, New York Times Op Ed writers, his own struggles, emotion, experience and people. In only a matter of minutes, it was apparent that Jim was extremely smart and there was no question that his intelligence far exceeded my own. However that wasn’t our only difference. Jim is physically challenged. His speech is slow and slurred, his hands and arms are crippled and his walk is crooked. I don’t like that I use these things to describe him because those things are so small in comparison to him as a whole. Yet, as a human, I can’t help but not only see these things but truly be unable to disregard them. After Jim asks me for some help plugging his phone into its charger, refill his water and open a packet of crackers for him he asks me if I’m married. I smile and shake my head. He asks if I have a boyfriend and again I shake my head. He tells me he doesn’t have anyone either and it’s because people judge him on his exterior. I feel a tinge in my heart. I want to tell him that I can relate and that people judge me on my appearance but I stop myself when I realize that my issue isn’t comparable and that I’m just like all those other people who have hurt Jim. It doesn’t matter if I’m not embarrassed engaging with him or having people stare at us as he talks to me but because there’s no way I could ever be attracted to Jim, I feel guilty. As hard as I try to love and accept everyone, I’m just as guilty as the people who have hurt me. I feel as though I don’t deserve anyone to love me because right here, there’s someone ready to love me and I’m rejecting it due to superficial reasons. If only we weren’t so human, this world would be a better place.

Read Full Post »


Most of us living in the US of A have led pretty charmed lives. Sure, we had our adolescent struggles as well as our fair share of disagreements with our parents. It’s an understatement when I tell you that I was angry at my parents for most of my teenage years. Not only was I grounded from the age of 12 until I was 18 but in this time my dad kicked me out of the house for not washing dishes properly as well as didn’t talk nor look at me for bringing home a D in conduct on a report card. Did he handle these situations rationally? No, not at all. I even went to therapy with them, for them and because of them. What it all boils down to is they did the best they could with what they were taught. I know my Dad loves me, was scared I was going to turn into him and only wanted me to succeed. If you didn’t have a parent like that, I’m sorry. That’s horrible and you didn’t deserve it however, stop giving them power over your life. It’s only you, right now, always and forever so live how you want to live. One of grandma’s, I won’t name names, is in her seventies and still blaming her parents for her “horrible” life. This doesn’t just boggle my mind but makes me feel so sad that this woman is not even a woman in so many ways. She’s stunted, debilitated and imprisoned by merely an emotion. If this sounds anything like how you feel then free yourself and forgive! Don’t be my grandma (unless you want to bake me cookies and tell me how wonderful I am).

Read Full Post »

My parents tried to introduce me to the idea of death and funerals at an early age. Their thought process was that if they treated the idea as normal and just a natural part of life than I wouldn’t think too much of it. The thing was-I had a mind of my own and it was filled with anxiety. For a long long long time I was terrified of death. Not just of my own mortality but my loved ones as well. Whenever I would leave my parents, uncles/aunts or grandma I would tell myself “This is going to be the last goodbye”. It was hell. I worked hard to change my thought process and thankfully I have learned to embrace the idea of death without crumbling at the very thought of it. Shirley MacLaine believes in reincarnation. I’m not sure if I do too but I do believe our souls never die and if that’s the case then we never die. War is pointless, if death doesn’t mean anything. The thing is our society wants us to fear death. They want us to be afraid so we buy things to make us feel like we’re cheating death-Earthquake survival kits, medicines, insurance policies, etc. Not to mention, a group that is afraid is easier to control than a group that is brave. My suggestion? Live live LIVE your life loud. In the end/beginning/transition, we are alone. Let’s embrace it and not be afraid anymore so are world can be healthier and happier!

Read Full Post »

Ok, so now we’re all grown up and we’ve learned that life can suck. We have responsibilites, obligations and 401k’s. Stress has become one of those things that we manage on a day to day basis. Crinkles in our annoyed/frustrated/angry faces are beginning to leave wrinkles. But, do you remember a time when you couldn’t wait to be a grown up? A time when everything was a mystery, exciting and new? What were those things you couldn’t wait to do? And better yet, what were those things you used to love and have stopped doing? Did you play sports? Pretend? Blow bubbles? What made you laugh? I hate to break it to you but here’s the thing: you’re still that same person. Don’t stifle your fun, energy and excitement for life. You’re finally allowed to do almost whatever you want to, so what’s stopping you? Go shoot a gun, jump off a cliff (with a bungie cord attached to it), climb a tree as high as you can, travel somewhere far away or get in a tickle fight that makes you scream and laugh for your life! Do things that make you feel free and young to balance out the ball and chain of life’s responsibilities.

Read Full Post »

Growing up I loved to cry. No matter if they were fake or real tears, I felt as though it gave me so much power. Power to control what people could give me. A soccer coach that would end up not making me run as much because of my tears, a teacher so they wouldn’t yell at me about missing my homework or my parents so they wouldn’t ground me when that teacher called home about the missing homework. I did it to friends, boys I had crushes on, babysitters. It was obnoxious. I finally learned, somewhere in high school/college, what was happening. I was making myself look weak. Friends and my parents were beginning to treat me differently, as if I was fragile. That was the biggest insult and that’s all it took. I stopped crying. I stopped needing people. I stopped the damsel in distress phone calls. I pushed everyone I loved and that loved me away. I became tough. Serious. Independent. I felt so strong and as if I could accomplish anything for the first time in my life. However, as good as all of the newfound confidence felt, I still had an urge to cry. But, I suffocated it. I wouldn’t allow it. Even alone in my own room, I would fight against it. I didn’t want to be that girl. Awhile later, everyone began to mention to me how cold, guarded and isolated I was becoming. It wasn’t just the tears that were gone but my sensitivity towards others had been lost as  well. A piece of me was gone. So, I started crying again. By myself and only in front of others sparingly. It felt so good to allow myself to be comforted, get out my frustration and sadness which then would allow me to leave it. Once the tears had escaped, I could move on. Strengthen and grow. So, cry. In the mirror to yourself, into a pillow or to a friend and then laugh at yourself for having so much pity for yourself.

Read Full Post »