Awareness

As a child I believed my mind was like a messy room with clothes everywhere.  Cleaning the room would be the only way to have a clear and peaceful mind.  With that, I would be able to achieve anything.  I figured the only way to "clean my messy mind" was to journal all my thoughts as often as possible.  It wasn't until years later when I attended a spiritual yoga class that I realized it was not about the writing itself but the questions we  chose to ask ourselves.  The course forced me to dig deeper than I ever intended.  Occasionally, it caused me to walk away from journaling for days at a time just because I was not prepared for what I would uncover.  Ultimately, I was always pleasantly surprised how painless and eye opening the discovery was.

If nothing else, the class taught me to be aware.  To notice not only what's going on around me, but my own reactions to my surroundings.  In the beginning, I realized that I always gave people the benefit of the doubt, even when they used words to stab me.  I thought,"Maybe they are reacting to something I said or did.  I should watch myself."  Analyzing my every move and every conversation, I tried to make sure I never at fault for another's adverse emotion.  

Though I believe it is important to be aware of ones actions, constant analysis of those actions can be counter productive and give way for one to enter into an emotionally abusive relationship.  A relationship where ones' own feelings are not respected on the same level as another's.  I noticed my own thought process was falling into that category. It wasn't until a friend pointed out how others were treating me that I allowed myself to feel insulted/offended by their actions, even though I felt it at the time.

My emotions are valid and should be treated as such.  So I need to find a balance where my emotions do not get the best of me and my analysis does not discount my feelings.  This will allow me to stand-up to over bearing personalities.  It is time for me to stand-up.

The Answer Man

Kris Lucas: Why can't I do the things I want to do?  There is so much I know I'm capable of that  I never actually do.  Why is that?

Arlen Faber: The trick is to realize that you're always doing what you want to do...always.  Nobody is making you do anything.  Once you get that, you see that you're free and that life is really just a series of choices.  Nothing happens to you.  You choose.

~The Answer Man (2009)

After graduating from a mildly prestigious high school and receiving a degree from a decent University, I moved home, jobless.  With a degree in Accounting, my father decided it would be best for me to work at his accountant's office.  Looking back, I was not ready to work full time or mature enough to handle the 9-5 lifestyle.  Therefore, it turned out to be a horrible experience.  I dreaded waking up in the morning and dragging myself to work only to input data.  I didn't work hard or try my hardest.  When I finally decided to make the best of a bad situation, I was too paranoid to accomplish anything.  So here I am three years later, living at home, working at my dad's office still unaware of what I want to do with my life; still unaware of who I am.

When I heard the quote above, I thought,"That's exactly how I feel."  I also believe there is a truth in the response given.  I chose to not grab the opportunity in front of me, but rather complain about the surroundings as though I was better.  I chose to look at what I wanted as unattainable and then make excuses for how it is not deemed an appropriate profession.  Those were my choices.

I sit here now wondering how time passed me by.  How am I quickly approaching thirty with no career in sight?  How am I not the person I thought I would be?  After months of wallowing (as I often tend to do) I realized all I needed was a goal.  When I set my goal it felt unreachable in the near future.  I didn't want to lower my goal because that felt as though it was unattainable and nothing is unattainable.  It just wasn't right for more immediate change in my life.  

So now I have to set daily goals.  If I manage to achieve the goals set for the day, then it can be deemed a good day.  An accomplished day.  The way I see it, eventually the goals will become more complex and I will actually be living up to my potential.  Till then I'm just taking life one day at a time.

Anxiety

Third grade was the year of three-minute arithmetic tests.  Each student had three minutes to correctly calculate 100 problems of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. I distinctly remember the different colored paper for each exam.  My heart raced and my mind became flustered as I tried to answer addition questions on the bright pink sheet of paper.  It seemed as though my classmates were not encountering the same predicament because they moved onto multiplication while I was still struggling with addition.  At that point my teacher, Mrs. Heggaman, decided it was time to move onto subtraction even though I did not pass the addition test. 

Fast-forward seventeen years; I arrive at New York Port Authority Bus Terminal for a friend’s bachelorette party and must take a cab to the meet up spot.  My heart rate began to increase, my palms began to sweat, and my mind began to race as I tried to catch a cab.  Nervous and confused I began aimlessly walking the crowded streets of Manhattan unable to hail a cab.  So I took a deep breath and thought, “I went to school in a city where cabs were the only form of transportation.  I can do this.”  Twenty minutes later I successfully reached the lounge relieved thinking, “What was the need for all that anxiety?”

Months later my father, the pediatrician, explained once your heart begins to race your mind looses all logic and turns to fight or flight mode (yup, felt that).  The way to control anxiety is by controlling your heart rate.  He prescribed a small does of medication for when I attend big functions or outings that would cause anxiety.

Does it work?  Technically yes.  With a slower heart rate than usual, I had an almost Zen mindset.  But no medication can change existing thoughts.  If I feel uncomfortable or uneasy in a situation my mind will still fill with contradictory thoughts.  The only difference is I am calm enough to remind myself that everything is fine and nothing is impossible.

Once my anxiety was given a name, I began noticing it more often, which made it, feel as though it was getting worse.  Actually I was getting worse.  I realized my anxiety comes from thinking that people are judging me the way I judge myself.  It’s portrayed in teen coming of age movies as a character walking down the hall as peers watch, pointing and laughing.  In reality, nobody is paying attention.  Confidence is the cure to my anxiety.  Unfortunately, confidence does not come in a pill.  But as I said before, if I own I am, nothing else matters. 

Fat? Maybe? Definitely Not.

Growing up I was thin.  I attested it to constantly dancing and being Indian; considering homemade Indian food is extremely healthy.  Once I left home and moved to college my eating habits took a turn for the worse and I was not so thin anymore.  Top that with constantly drinking my hips and my stomach began to widen.  Looking back at pictures from those years I think, “Damn I look fat.”

Fortunately, I was introduced to dance like aerobics classes offered at the university gym.  I slimed down and my body was toned for the first time in my life.  However, during the time I spend working out, I found myself looking in the mirror thinking, “I wish my stomach was tighter and my thighs toned.”  I would go out to eat and second-guess my order wondering about the fat content. 

Those moments made me realize how easy it is to slip into an eating disorder.  I never truly understood how someone could look in the mirror and see something other than what is right in front of them.  When I started working out and watching what I ate solely to lose weight I understood how people could lose sight of who they are and focus on what they appear to be to others.

We live in a society where magazine covers consist of stick thin airbrushed models with “How to lose 10 lbs. fast” in bold letters.  Movies and television portray huskier women as not desirable, but the ugly friend.  Being thin was not about being healthy but being sexy and attractive. 

After graduating from college, I moved back home and began working at my father’s pediatric office where I devoured the “chocolate drawer.”  Months later a friend was packing for Medical School and left a scale out to weigh the luggage.  I weighed myself and saw a number I had never seen associated with my size before.  Right there I decided it was time not to exercise but to watch what I eat.  It was time for me to be healthy and make healthy choices.  It was time I stopped judging myself for the few times I would indulge in a little something.  Being healthy became my focus instead of being skinny.  That mentality gave me complete freedom to enjoy food and exercise in the moment.  I realized that appearance is not what you look like but how you present yourself. Confidence makes heads turn.  Intelligence keeps a persons attention. Striving to be healthy and making healthy choices should be the goal.  Not the ability to walk on the beach in a tiny bikini.  Own who you are and nothing else matters.

Will it get better?

When technology is provided for the masses it is not long before people say, “I can’t imagine my life without this.”  The Internet is one of those things.  I remember the first time I sat down with my brother logging onto AOL and creating my first screen name, richgal03.  I sat and waited for the three iconic sounds. Dial tone, a number dialing, a fax machine connecting and the famous words, “you’ve got mail.”  Of course I never got any mail worth reading.  I also remember the first time my best friend and I stayed up in the middle of the night flirting in chat rooms with little success given that we were naive 14 year old girls.

The Internet changed our lives.  It provided massive amounts of information at our fingertips and the creation of Google organized it.  Years later, Facebook created a way for people to interact globally in ways that other social network sites couldn’t imagine; while Youtube and blogging sites created an outlet for people to voice their opinions, ideas, and nonsense at any moment they please. Whenever something is created with the best intentions people can find a way to manipulate it.  Aaron Sorkin (creator and writer of West Wing) said, “I am all for everyone having a voice, I just don’t think everyone has earned the microphone.  And that’s what the Internet has done.”  Mr. Sorkin was probably referring to numerous negative, demeaning, and unconstructive reviews of his work posted by bloggers and random angry people.  But for this purpose, let’s say he was referring to cyber bullying.

Cyber bullying, “the use of information and communication technologies to support deliberate, repeated, and hostile behavior by an individual or group, that is indented to harm others.” (Cyberbullying.org) I was first introduced to the concept when watching an episode of MTV’s Made. A girl wanted to be made into class president and her platform was cyber bullying.  At first I laughed.  It was a concept I did not understand or knew existed.  Not until I watched various hurtful and obnoxious comments flood my nephew’s facebook page. 

Unable to help him through this troubling time I could only say, “Cyber bullies are cowards who hide behind their computers to make themselves feel better and to make other kids like them.  Their words have less to do with who you are and more to do with their own insecurities.  It will get better.”  But no matter how many times I tell him this I know he doesn’t feel it’s true.  Confidence is the only thing to stop the harassment. Unfortunately that is not something that can be given but has to be felt from within.  Time may heal wounds and maturity may bring perspective, but sometimes the damage is irreversible.  So here I stand, at a loss for words and ideas thinking, "Will things change?  Will things get better?"

Eat, Pray, Love

So here I am, in my bedroom, watching Eat, Pray, Love.  Twenty minutes in I wanted to turn the shit off, thinking, “I’m sure the book is great but this movie is awful and never ending.”  But here is this lady’s life on film because she took a year off and wrote about it.  She’s a writer.  What's the difference between a writer and someone who journals?  An editor.  Point being, if she can do it so can I.  So here it goes.

Watching this movie, I wondered, if i had the opportunity to travel alone where would I go?.  I wouldn’t go anywhere.  I don’t tend to venture out on my own and walk around by myself in foreign places.  I could be in the most beautiful city and never leave the hotel room.  Anxiety and fear of getting lost or making a fool of myself prohibits my ability to take action.  

I have always wanted to go to bar and have a glass of wine and read a book.  I never have though. Although going to a bar to drink and then driving back would prove problematic.  Plus my idea of going to the bar drinking and reading involves a cute guy interrupting me and starting a conversation that goes somewhere.  I know it’s ridiculous, but that’s what happens when you watch one too many chic flicks. Damn guilty pleasures.  

Journals

When I was  a self-centered dramatic teenager I was given a journal.  I went home, opened the journal and wrote exactly how I got it.  It was the most boring entry written in the worst handwriting possible with a plethora of spelling mistakes.  That was the day that I started journaling all my angry thoughts.  Bad handwriting, spelling mistakes, and an inability to stay on topic or even finish a thought filled this wide ruled book.  It wasn't long before I lost interest and moved on with my life, but it was not the end of journaling for me.

As a freshman in college dealing with my first boyfriend, my first breakup, my first academic failure, and my first realization that I was losing who I was, I went straight to the bookstore and picked up a journal.  Once again I wrote down all my angry thoughts in bad handwriting and a sea of spelling mistakes.  I was better at staying on topic but still could not finish an entry.  Looking back I see my immaturity and dramatic ways written between the college ruled lines and think,"Did it actually help or did it just fuel and accentuate my emotions?"

To that I do not have an answer, but I can say this.  I have been journaling consistently since that day and there is no greater joy then being able to look back and see how much I have grown and matured as a person.  In some ways it helped me work out some confusing and emotional times as well as be able to take a step back and realize my own faults.  Most of all it helped me with my writing skills.

Whenever I hear someone is stressed out or dealing with a lot of emotions I always tell them to write.    Galileo said, "All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them."  Journaling helps me do just that.  It is my release, it documents my ups and my downs and allows me to realize when I was being dramatic.

Once again I filled a college ruled book with my thoughts, stories and emotions.  When putting it away with all the other journals I couldn't help but pick one up and begin reading.  It wasn't long before I closed it shaking my head thinking,"Oh lord.  It was not that serious."  But that is life.  Dramatic.

Till next time.

Bald frog wears a wig.

I'm bored and it's late so i'm writing this.  Blogspot asks random questions to post on your profile.  Odd, but why not.  So my first question was tell a children's story about a bald frog who wears a wig.  So this is what I came up with.

Once upon a time there was a frog who was bald but soo desperately wanted hair so he went and bought a wig.  He strutted around town with this wig feeling on top of the world till he began noticing all the odd looks and snickers he received from his non-bald neighbors.  It was then that realized that he was only jealous of what they had and didn't really need this wig.  He was perfect just the way he was.  THE END.

of course the story was too long and I moved on with me life.  At least this way it doesn't die with me.