As I’ve spent the past couple months re-formatting and editing my blog (because I don’t have the money or resources to upgrade my website and pay for that domain continuously,) & it made me realize that I kinda have a theme going. (First off, don’t look back and look for the theme lol I’m still editing while I write this so my blog is seriously messed up at the moment. It’s embarrassing.) I’m consistently putting out this wise and positive energy, and I’m hyper-aware of my blog posts and how they come across here online in this space. & oftentimes, because of how well-worded these posts can be, I am around people who bring up what I write in real life. I mean, my big brother thought it was so good that now some of my work is in the Seattle Pacific University library of resources. That’s interesting to me. & the funniest part of it all is that people assume that what I post online is an accurate representation of who I am. I think it’s a depiction of who I’d like to be? Maybe who I’d strive to be? But I’m not sure if that’s even accurate. Which is kind of scary. (Also I’m currently writing this while a plane is landing. So that’s a fun fact, just in case you were interested! Planes tend to make me a little bit more introspective than I typically am.)
I guess my point with this is that I don’t really know who I am. I mean, sometimes I have moments when I feel real. Moments when everything else in that time and space fade from view, and I’m simply me and I exist. & that’s validating. That feels so good. But if we’re getting really real here, I have moments when I don’t feel real. & Sometimes that’s a good thing! I just flew to Seattle to surprise my big brother for his college graduation and only two people knew about my flight and the information involved. & Pretty much every five seconds after being there and surprising him, I kept saying, “This is crazy! I feel crazy! This is real! Oh my gosh!” Then though, there are moments where nothing feels real in a maybe not so good way. Moments when I exist but feel nothing. Moments when I dissociate so intensely that I have no control over my body and I kinda forget that I exist. Other moments I know I’m here and maybe I don’t really want to exist. That’s tough. & I hate admitting that. Because I want to come off as strong and positive and healthy. I want people to look at me and think, “Wow I want to be like her, or be friends with her...” I crave this idea of control. I crave this idea of control by controlling others’ perceptions of me. & Sometimes I get so mixed up with how I’d like to be perceived that I forget who I am at my core. That’s scary. This is scary. (I’m writing this kinda like a stream of consciousness entry and it’s throwing me off because typically I’m significantly more eloquent and intentionally planned. Of course, that’s because that’s how I’d like to be perceived, but that only proves my point further.)
I don’t really know where I’m going with this again. I’ve been trying to write a post like this for years, and I never can figure out the right way to word things so these posts tend to sit in my drafts for months until I do a little tidying up on my website. So right now, I’m writing this with the full intention of posting this. I don’t know if it’s going to be seen, but if only my grandma is reading this, (she’s the one person to consistently mention that she reads my work as she asks me about my writings,) HEY GRAM. LOVE YOU.
Moving forward, I know that between myself and those close to me, I’ve shared (maybe I’ve put this on the blog before?) I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, ADHD, and an Unspecified Depressive Disorder about five, going on six years ago. That’s so strange. That’s strange to me because I don’t feel like that comes across in anything I share or how I am perceived. Does that make sense? Like, I don’t think you would have been able to tell solely by reading my work and guessing. But then again, I’m not the best with social cues so maybe I’m wrong. I don’t know. My point is, every so often I get asked about what it’s like living with all of these diagnoses (and honestly I think there’s more that is undiagnosed or wrongly diagnosed simply because some of my symptoms are a lil’ funky, but that’s besides the point…) and it’s a little overwhelming trying to explain all that I feel all the time. For more context, everyone’s mental health looks different. It will always be unique to you and your personal mind, body, and circumstances. Additionally, my mental health strides and setbacks seem to come in waves, or at least that’s what I’m able to make of it all.
Sometimes it’s tough to be open about my mental health because I don’t always look the part. Or maybe I don’t want others to know me or even perceive me at my grossest. I mean, if we’re being authentic, I don’t want anyone to see me when I haven’t showered in over a week and I won’t leave my bed. It’s not cute. It’s not fun. & it’s not easy to maintain this positive image and outlook on what’s happening in my life. & even when I’m not visibly at my worst, masking sucks. For reference and context, masking is kinda like maintaining this front that all is well on the outside even when it’s a bit of a mess on the inside. Whether that’s suppressing tics or trying not to give into certain impulses, it’s not easy for me at all. This is just been something that’s been really tough for me, especially recently. I don’t know. I’m just talking right now. (This is Day 2 of me writing this post.)
(This is now two weeks after starting this post. Currently I’m at my parents’ house in my old bed with a kidney infection and a kidney stone so cheers to that.) I think that the more I reflect on my emotions and my mental health intricacies, I learn more about who I am at my core. By this, I mean that I psychoanalyze myself myself for long enough to convince myself that I don’t need a therapist (even though I know I do, I just can’t afford to make that happen right now). I think my whole goal with sharing this post is that sometimes I’m not always alright. And that’s a weird thing to say on the internet. I’m not sure who I am, I’m not sure who I think I’ll be, but I wanna be authentic. That’s the goal. That’s always the goal. But I’m not sure how to balance authenticity on the internet, let alone in real life. So that’s the bulk of this post. Thanks for listening. I’ll probably post more soon. Yeah. Okay.
Much Love,
Lanes
written on june 13, 2021 on my flight to seattle just before landing.
“ya know, there’s a certain point when you’re flying when you’re above the clouds and you lose all perception. of depth, of reality, the list goes on. and eventually you’ve gotta come back down. you meet the clouds where they’re at and for a moment you’re surrounded by fog for as far as the eye can see. & i think there’s something beautiful about that. because it makes me forget everything scary. for one second all i feel is this peace that is the abyss. and as alone as i feel in a plane with strangers a million feet off the ground, i feel so surrounded. & i like that feeling. it’s independence and clarity, even when i have no clue what’s going on. my trust is completely in the captain and their team and i’m okay with that. it’s not a willing reassurance, but it’s surely not an apathetic one. and it feels oddly safe knowing that if i die in a plane full of strangers, maybe i’ll disappear into these clouds too. and just extend as far as the clouds extend as far as the eyes can see. that feels safe.”
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