One of the best things I learned in high school was free-association writing. It’s a style of writing that frees you from every supposed function, structure, and purpose other writing styles demand. You just write whatever comes into your mind, every word no matter how trivial. You can write about cats for three pages straight, all your anxieties for that day, or even the phrase ‘I don’t know what to write’ over and over again. Anytime a friend seems to be in a tough spot and I have no words that could inspire or affirm them, I always recommend it. People look at journaling like writing a first draft of a memoir. If you want it to, it can be. But if you’re like me and use words to sort out the mess in your head, you should really try this style of writing. In fact, I’m going to use the style right now if you’re willing to follow along.
I was born in the morning maybe 20 minutes or so away from where I live now. It’s all a bubble here in the plains state, a bubble I got to escape from for a few months. That’s what leaving for school meant to me: escape. I had certain freedoms here in my hometown, but radical honesty wasn’t one of them. I don’t think a disdain for honesty is distinctly Midwestern, or American, or even Western. I think the urge to run from radical honesty is a part of the human condition. I don’t mean to be demeaning. I mean to say that being dishonest is a very large part of who I am. Dishonesty kept me safe, kept me distant from the crippling force of reality. Freedom isn’t liberating. It leaves you vulnerable to entrapment.
The thing about honesty is that it’s very nuanced. I meant to say that sooner. Honesty is nuanced and no one gets that. People hate that. Nuance. People hate the fact that nothing in our world, our lives, our reality (or shitty simulation) is simple. Even things like water can be complicated by minerals and filtration. Air can be corrupted by pollution. Sleep and the ocean or so deeply misunderstood and under-researched. Nothing is clear. Nothing is simplistic. No matter how much we try.
That’s why this period is so draining. There are no right answers. We can all search far and wide but the reality is that the answer is beyond our understanding. We all want the same things, but even our desires aren’t simple. I remember junior year of high school learning about entropy, the idea that chaos is inevitable. That’s human nature, a constant state of complications within order. We will never know peace. But I don’t think that means we shouldn’t aim for it. The pursuit of peace helps us become better.
I’m trying to pursue my own peace. That’s why I’m trying to become more honest with myself. I think if I can be honest with myself about who I am, who I really am I’ll become better. I’ll be more honest with others and I think that will encourage the same energy back. I think about that a lot now. How intentional I need to be with the energy I send out in the world. It’s a very tiring mindset, or it was until I realized that energy is supposed to move back and forth, not spill out of me like a knocked over glass of water. I gave my energy to people who couldn’t give that energy back. That’s on them sure but I think I’m more responsible. I wasn’t honest with myself about my intentions.
I want love. So much. I think we all do. I think a lot. Too much I think. I think and think and think. I think about love the most. There’s so many forms of love in the world and I’m trying my best to tend closely to each kind in my life but I’m so lazy and angry and selfish and protective. They’re the enemies of love. It’s all a manifestation of insecurity. I’m lazy because trying and failing is worse than never trying at all. I’m angry because I feel disrespected even if it might not be the reality. I’m selfish because it’s easier and instantly gratifying to care for myself first. I’m protective because betrayal and rejection hurt so much that I’m not sure how much more of it I can take before I can’t do it anymore.
I’m very sensitive. Probably a Cancer thing. Or a me thing. I’m very sensitive about how people treat me. I keep tally, take detailed notes on others actions, cross-checking them with the past to find a match, even slightly. It makes everything harder. It’s made me a really anxious individual. But I think that lack of faith, lack of trust is a reflection of how I feel about myself. Every time someone validates it, it sticks. I think deep down at some point I told myself I didn’t deserve love and that I don’t really matter to anyone at all and I never will.
And when you don’t matter, nothing does. Maybe that’s why I got so depressed years back. Months back even. That feeling of isolation, real or imagined, becomes so overwhelming it eats away at every string attaching you to the ground. Sometimes I wonder what it will take to snap the last thread before I fall away completely. It scares me what I’m capable of if I don’t take care of my brain.
So I’m making an effort now. A real one. I want to love myself even when I’m being shitty. I think I’m pretty much there, but there’s an undertone of delusion at times. To me, self love is less about thinking how amazing and wonderful and beautiful I am (but make no mistake, that is all very true) but more accepting wholeheartedly who I am, even the ugly, not so great parts. Care for myself even when I’m not my best. Each day I’m getting closer and I’m so proud of myself for that.
What I really need to work toward is believing in myself. I’m trying to learn to think bigger, dream bigger. I never learned how to do that. I was an ambitious kid, but for small things. All my ambitions were structured around what would impress others, never anything born out of my own passions. Just random musings and achievement points defined by others. The more I reflect on what I really want out of my life, the more nuanced I come to understand it. It’s not a concrete picture or phrase. It’s an energy, a series of visions, a magnetic pull towards the future. I don’t have an answer to give. It makes working towards things difficult as someone more goal oriented.
I know whatever I’m moving towards is good though. Really good. ‘Everything I could have wanted and more’ good. But right now, I have to believe that I can get there and that I deserve to get there and have those things. But it’s difficult. I have a lot of tough love for myself. But tough love isn’t very forgiving. Tough love will hold you accountable in ways that aren’t even sensible.
Not to be jumpy but I’ve been watching a lot of LGBT content recently as far as television goes. Two shows have stuck out to me a lot in my recent moral musings. There is Rupaul where the whole show focuses around these drag queens who shine so brightly in their own ways. But I think the more relevant program is the show POSE. It has a heart. So much heart I cried at about every episode. I wish I had a Blanca in my life to snap me out of my self-doubt and push me forward. But I gotta learn to be my own Blanca. I gotta learn to root for myself even when the world tries to tell me I’m not good enough or don’t belong or I’m not ready enough when I know better.
But it’s hard. It takes heart. I’m trying to learn to let myself have heart again. I haven’t been this soft hearted in a minute. Not since I was a kid. And it feels really good.
A few things have been helping me. Good shows with the same heart and thoughtfulness. Meditating to help center my mind. Exercising to boost my esteem. Only spending time with my friends and family for extended amounts of time. Working on my own shit, even if no one ever sees it or hears it. I’m really hard on myself but anytime I sit and give myself the space to think, to reflect, I see my growth even within a few months. The work I’m putting in is and will pay off. I will be a very cool adult, even if I do feel sad, anxious, and moody sometimes. Everything will be alright.
catharsis. ataraxia. 