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Communication of emotions- “start when they are young”

Oh, this one is scary. I knew when I was first struggling really bad I didn’t want to tell a soul. I didn’t want to open up. Cause if I did that it was now real. All the things I was trying to hide from myself were now real. It was terrifying. I was forced to open up and no only did it save my life but it made me feel a bit more comfortable talking about what I needed to talk about. Times like now I really don’t want to talk to specifically my parents about my issues there are people that I feel way more comfortable talking to and that’s okay. That’s why therapist exist. they are someone who is unbiased, who will not judge, and who you do not need to worry about disappointing. You may fear telling your mom you our no longer clean, scared to receive an emotional reaction from her. If you tell your therapist you will receive assurance that relapse is often part of recovery and more methods to stay clean. We fear that emotional reaction but we are human. Need we not fear emotions but the consequences of not using them. I cry and I cry often but I do not fear crying in public, in class, in front of people I love because I know that there is strength in not being scared of your emotions. If you face them, accept them as they come. Yes we all want to be happy but I would hate living only happy. Fear, sadness, anger are powerful emotions. Learning to accept them is the first step in learning to conquer them. We all need to learn this. As kinder gardeners we may have read If you are angry and you know it the sentence “if you are angry and you know it stomp your feet,” is something I will never forget. I’m an adult now and have less expressive ways of dealing with my anger but as a younger child these types of coping work depending on the child. Children often struggle with communicating their emotions but for my little brother I notice that If I communicate with him and tell him it’s okay to be sad it’s okay to be frustrated but that he can’t throw a tantrum that he should be able to find a healthier way to communicate his emotions. Adult struggle with the communication of emotions too although we do not fear the consequences of throwing a tantrum we fear the reactions of other. Emotional embarrassment. We must correct that idea early on. We must tell out children that emotions are normal, that we will feel sad, happy, angry, all of these. Then teach them proper coping and ways of communicating their emotions. Knowing these skills young and no longer fearing our emotions from a young age will help all in adult hood when dealing with more complex scenarios to which we must express our emotions. 

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Been awhile (life update)

Hey, I guess for the people that follow I know this account has changed a lot but I hope you are here for what I’m all about. No, i’m not a professional. I’m only a woman. I only hope that my post help someone even if it’s only one person. Over the course of time since I've posted I finished my first quarter of University. It was hard and easy. Maybe easier than I expected. I made a better relationship with my S/O we are really good right now and see each other maybe a little too much. That’s okay though. I guess I just wanted to say Hi. I’ll keep this one short for you. You’ll here from me soon with another essay. Yes, I will refer to my longer rant post as essays. Hope you don’t mind. 

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The sexualization of people(among other thoughts)

Let me set the record straight before we get started. No, I am not assuming that all straight people are like this. This blog post is simply based off my own experiences that HAVE become less frequent but is still something that needs to be talked about. Meaning this post is not meant to attack, put blame, on assume fault on anyone's part. Now, let’s begin. When I first came out to my friends or simply anyone that asked for the matter as long as I did not have a serious relationship of loosing due to the matter, I had always gotten a similar repose from a select group of people in particular. This group being teenage boys. When I mention that I’m bi-sexual. “So, you’ll do it with guys and girls.” My repose would be “yes,” assuming that they may have never had experience with LGBTQ+. Then the conversation would get more intense with silly questions like, “at the same time?” Now, for me I’m not really into that. If you are that’s great! Although at 14,15 this question scared me. It made me feel as if my liking of guys, and gals made me be seen as some kind of sex machine. Although some are only given the “compliment” of “sex machine,” if you are male. For a woman you are seen as a..slut. I had to deal with that word a lot in High School, even to the point where I had to switch schools due to the constant bullying. When I was talked about and me being “cute” and when they also mention “bi,” all the sirens go off. At my age now I now know that it was nothing that I did or could have done to avoid this. It was how these boys were curated to see bi-sexual women. To them at the time, my sexuality was something they would only see in the tittle of a video on the home page of porn hub. Society has failed to teach them that every person is different. That yes a bisexual woman has the right to do porn with how many people they like. But also, they can choose to wear a knitted cardigan and they definitely can say no to the oral sex you keep demanding. The amount of unsolicited sex offers and dick pics I've seen at such an early age is not okay. Almost every woman I know queer, or straight has had to deal with it. We have a block button, but despite that boys are still pressured to be a man and to have sex and will even lie about it. I somewhat feel for them. I feel sad that they are trying to hard to be accepted that they feel that they have to send dick pics and talk the way they do to woman. I feel sad that their friend who lied and said this worked to as a tactic to get laid has never had a positive relationship where sex wasn't just sex but a way to show affection. I feel sad. I haven’t really have to come out to anyone for a while when I do it’s mostly met with an “oh.” Then some silence, then an “that’s cool.” Yes, my fellow ally straight cis friend, it is cool. But the shit I went through cause of it, is not cool. I don’t think this is a people fault, I think it’s a lack of education flaw. We don’t talk enough about how despite how sexual a person seems on screen or what ever front they put up. They deserve respect. If you see a porn star on the streets, doesn��t mean you grab their ass. Everyone needs to be treated with dignity. They guy that get’s “so much pussy.” Should be treated like a guy who get’s an average about of pussy. When you treat people like equals and are not intimated by their front, lies, or even truth. It makes it so they no longer need to feel as if they need to sexualize themselves to be accepted. If they like a girl they can form a relationship and not feel like they need to rush to the sex part. I know many people that regret loosing their virginity because they felt pressured. I feel that it shouldn't be this way. Some people love having sex, and that’s cool. Some people are more reserved (like myself) and that’s cool. Either way, how some one sexually expresses themselves needs to be respected. This post started off as a over sexualization of bi-sexual women but now, after writing this. I see the true problem, and I hope this helped.

Remember, to practice safe sex and educate yourself. Stay politically active so you can be safely sexually active by having access to resources like planned parenthood, birth control, and such. 

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Finding your “place” ( or don’t your choice)

I’m socially awkward, I never felt like I had a place. Until I actually went out there and made a place for myself. They say, “you’ll eventually find your place.” That’s bullshit. It’s the equivalent of dipping your toe in the water of a pool. You need to jump, you need to risk it. Yes, someone can grab you and throw you in. But when it comes to that you end up uncomfortable...out of place. So, how does one create their place? Honestly, you find a passion. Art, music, sports, writing, or anything else. Find something that you can hold close to your heart. Own it. Find people that hold that same thing close to their heart. This won’t be easy but the one thing that my 8 different schools taught me is the power of saying hello. It’s scary, I know, but it breaks the tension. It opens someone up a little. That kid that you never said hi to but you see them do things that you like too. Say hi. Maybe you can create your own place, together. But remember every person holds their passion close to their heart in a different way. Even if you have a passion in common don’t expect a perfect friend match. Also find the power in being alone. It’s scary, some people love it, some people hate it. I personally hate it. Although, I’ve found a lot about myself because of it. I’ve matured in it. Finding your place can be collaborative, it can be all by yourself. It’s YOUR place, you don’t share it. You don’t make it for someone else. You don’t form yourself to fit in it. You make it, to who you are. Sometimes you need to find who you are first. Sometimes you change while in it. This could mean minor adjustments, it could mean starting from scratch. It’s your place no matter what. Sometimes you don’t have to have a place. You can be free to change how much you like. Because that’s what being human is, changing. Don’t be mad because of it. You change, others change. Others may seem to change but really only you changed. There are many reasons. In the end, make your space or don’t. As long as you feel safe and you know who you are. A space isn’t where you catagorize yourself. It isn’t where you place yourself in society. It’s your safe place, it’s whatever you need it to be. Or it doesn’t have to exist for you at all.

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Basically I’m Gay

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About Me

Hi, my name is Hailey I’m 18 from a small town, with too many people, in Southern California. It’s summer and I’m on my way to college, let’s go anxiety. I’ll be fine tho. My hobbies include reading, obviously writing, Ukulele, kite flying, knitting, singing, photography, and making art. It’s kinda cool I guess. I don’t have a favorite color but I know it’s not purple. My favorite band is twenty one pilots. I’ve only been to a BMTH concert, it was fucking amazing. I’m Mexican American and can only use Spanish to save my life. My social life is almost shit but I have friends. I’m still growing, I’m still learning. My major is History with the plan of teaching in high schools. I still use my fingers for math. My fashion sense is limited to a crop top and jeans. I freaking love makeup though. RIP my bank account. Um, yeah. Have a nice day. I also smile to much at strangers it’s that or a resting bitch face. Okay, bye. :)

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My Story  (trigger warning/self-harm)

As of today it has been 3 years and 40 days, 1,135 days, 27,240 hours since I've locked myself in that bathroom and self-harmed. That last word was hard to say, because even after a 3 years I still feel tied to that word. Unable to clip the string wrapped around us. To me self harm is a person that looks just like myself, except she’s dressed in black with a mourning veil over her head, eyes sunken in from lack of sleep, and blood red. Her shoes are worn down to the sole and dress town down the seams. She looks at me with the look of pure hatred. I killed her, no, I left her. I’ve been with her for nearly three years. She loved me, she depended on me, I the same. She took the pain away; made me numb. She was temporary though, she was only out at night right after a shower when I could see the bare raw skin. It was then when she would come out of the dark and greet me, showing me her metal tools.

“These will make it go away,” she would whispers and for years I would give in to her.

It wasn't until one day we were in that bathroom and she passed me the piece of metal.

“No,” I said curling up my legs so she couldn't reach. “I hate the way it leaves me, I want to feel just for tonight.

I  saw her grow angry night after night where we would sit in that bathroom and I would say “No more.”

She didn't have her own skin for she isn't real, simple a metaphor I speak of through this rearranged and repeated alphabet.

“You never let me anymore,” she yelled.

“I just don't want to,” I whispered not wanting to make her upset.

I saw the whites of her eyes go black as she stood over me and opened up my arms for herself. I never let the metal there and little did I know by letting her do this it would make her never do it to me again.

That night, when I laid in bed knowing tomorrow was a Monday and I would have to go back to school. How was I gonna hide it?

She was still mad at me, whispering that I’m useless and that I should just go away forever. As much as I tried to ignore her she just kept getting louder. I knew I had to make her go away even if that meant I had to tell someone. A secret I had been hiding for so long. A forbidden lover.

The next rising of the sun when I came into school before the bell. My favorite teacher was sitting at his desk rearranging the alphabet just like I am but for different reasons, teacher reasons.

“Hey, could I talk to you,” I said quietly. He knew that I was dealing with her but he only heard about her voice not about her tools. That one that was for the bad things.

“Can it wait,” he asked softly indicating that there were people around me that could overhear.

“Not really,” I paused. School was the only place when she wasn't and I knew that if I didn't say it now she would find out later and make me go away. “It’s bad. It’s gotten to the point of suicide.”

He turned away and nodded okay. I knew she was gonna be mad I knew that she wasn't gonna be happy with me and I was scared; so scared.

That day was the best day of my life. I then got called into the counselor where I had to hear my mother's voice over the phone, as the counselor told her about the metal, just in a nicer way. I could never forget the way she sounded. It’s a sound I never wanna hear from her again, ever.

After the last bell rang and I came back to that teacher at first I was mad at him simply because of the sound of my mother voice. Then I just realized that he was on my side. He was the person that saved my life.

Going home I hugged my mother and we decided that we needed to see someone and we did and things got better. My forbidden lover has still left me covered in scars but she’s gone. The first few months I heard her crying at night but it's something that I shake off and ignore. It’s just her ghost and her tools are gone, every single one.

I never thought I would get to this point, be able to share my story of the nights I spent locked in my tiny bathroom. As of today it has been 3 years and 40 days, 1,135 days, 27,240 hours since i've locked myself in that bathroom and self-harmed. A word that I’m not scared of anymore. A word that to me now is just a rearranged part of a repeated alphabet. Scarred by my forbidden lover that I put to rest and never brought back to life.

I’m truly alive with her dead.

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Resources

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The Reason

Some choose to make their first post about them selves and introduce themselves. Other make their first post about their reason. Well to be brutally open and honest I want to start a conversation. I’m lucky enough to live in a time where mental health is less stigmatized but that doesn't mean people aren’t scared to say something about it. I know too many friends that are suffering because they are scared to tell their parents they need therapy. People die everyday because they don’t have access to the proper help. I got lucky, real lucky. To be on the brink of ending my life and somehow saving myself and telling someone. My reason it to not save people, I don’t want credit, I don’t want shit. I want people to open up, on their own. No one can force you to express your emotions. No one can make you save yourself. But maybe, just maybe. This blog can give you some courage to open up. You don’t have to put all your shit on a table. This isn’t a fucking “my issues,” gallery. This is a outlet for people to gain hope and resources from to go out and get help. To say “hey, I need therapy and I not ready to tell you guys exactly what’s wrong.” Since honestly we all don’t really know what’s wrong. Although sometimes we are sure as hell that we need help figuring it out. So that’s my reason. That’s it.