#and as things have taken a downward term I know from talking to Mom separately that Dad is also having a lot of trouble with basic self care

[sheliesshattered]

I’m just so tired

[teenthoughtsblog]

FRENEMIES

I am Arunima (please use Aru to address me). I am thirteen, and I go to school like any normal teen. In 8th grade, it’s like a whirlpool of emotions and thoughts. I feel obligated to cram as much education as I can into my brain and push forward for these last few years of school. But that being said, these are my last few years of school and possibly of my childhood. Every day I’m confused about the way forward, and today was no different.

 It was like any usual day. I struggled to wake up and get ready for school. When I boarded my school bus I dozed off as per usual, catching up on last night’s sleep. The assembly was no different with many students yawning and chatting amongst themselves. The first few classes went by in a blur (a rather boring one at that) I struggled to stay awake, let alone consciously pay attention (all courtesy of the late-night binge-watching of stranger things). As I slept the teacher must have yapped about something important because when she questioned me about the lesson, and I, flustered, answered incorrectly, she had a look of heeding malice on her cold and bony face. In homeroom, we discussed our lives’ regrets and satisfactions. At the moment I was bored, and couldn’t care less about what we did in homeroom. I remember my answer being something as general as not picking up a particular hobby.

On the bus ride home, while snacking on kurkures, and doing my homework, I couldn’t focus. 

Normally I would finish all the work given on my ride home and laze around in the afternoon, but that day fate was made for me to keep getting distracted. After a few attempts of doing my homework and packing my bag, I just gave up and decided to have dinner and go to bed early. An hour went by and I still couldn’t get myself to close my eyes and get rest for more than ten minutes. There was a cold lump in my throat, and it was not because of the unnaturally low temperature of my thermostat (as put by my beloved mom). After tossing and turning in bed for quite a while, I realized that all this drama was because of the small, insignificant discussion in homeroom.

 Without me putting much thought into it, that one question had seeped in and manipulated my whole day. Now that I sleeplessly put more thought into it, I stand corrected. My answer wouldn’t be something as brief and over the top as a missed hobby. It would be something in a completely different dimension. Something many would label as childish. A FRIENDSHIP.

 I met Shravya when we were both four, on our first day of kindergarten. I was a timid and observant child, and she was more on the outgoing and vivacious side. It all started when she came up to me and tugged at my braids. I went on to grab hold of her collar and poke her with all my might. That was followed by an obnoxious round of tickling each other and giggling. A bond finally formed over a tiffin exchange at recess and we instantly started to grow close.

 Overtime Shravya and I became like two peas in a pod, and by the end of kindergarten, everyone knew us as the two best friends who couldn’t stand a day without talking to each other. Like everything good comes to an end, the blissful phase with Shravya came crashing down as we were separated in first grade.

Those two years with Shravya were eventful, joyous and we both enjoyed them so much that we probably still know every single incident to the  last detail. We had a countless number of pool parties, sleepovers, Masterchef challenges, mud fights, and fashion shows just to name a few of our many playdate activities. Our families had also met and come close together. We had even taken a vacation to Agra together. When Shravya’s brother was born and all the spotlight was supposedly stolen from her, she would keep complaining and crying, and I, forever the listener, consoled her and offered comfort with several sleepovers and playdates.

Time passed and my friendship with Shravya remained unwavering. Over time, we did hit some rough patches, but we being best friends, we always made up. Little did I know we would go on a ballistic rollercoaster ride. After being separated from 1st to 4th grade, we were overjoyed to finally come back together in 5th grade. On the first day of class 5, we sat together and chatted a LOT. No one could blame us, because we were two besties catching up on four years of being in separate classes. We shared classwork, helped each other with homework and in general, our time was blissful. 

Then musical afternoon made its appearance. In our school, it’s a huge deal where there's a theme each year and all the classes form groups and perform songs in many languages. I remember that year the theme was heartbreak. The moment the theme was announced, everyone started talking about songs and groups to form. I rushed over to Shravya and started talking about a particularly emotional song I had in mind. At the time she blatantly agreed to everything that I said to pacify my racing mind. The next day when I unexpectedly arrived at her house with high hopes, the door was slammed on my face., leaving me confused and heartbroken. The events that occurred in the next phase, which I call the frenemies phase, really matched the musical theme of that year. 

From that day Shravya and I were on mutilated terms and she gave treatment worse than ignoring me, aka that silent treatment. Slowly the emotions inside me changed from heartbreak to disbelief and finally anger. I threw a huge tantrum back at home. My mind went into a frenzy.

 One minute I would be ripping my hair out and cursing with an astonishing speed, and then, immediately after I’d be a heap on the floor, sobbing my heart out. Days passed like this. As much as I have reluctance admitting this, but life went on, and so did our journey. Shravya was forever the socialite and had no difficulty in moving on and making new friends. I, on the other hand, would much rather keep to myself than be the expected extrovert. In a blink of the eye, Shravya had got herself an arsenal of new friends or what many Indians would recognize as chelas. My abysmal communication skills didn’t make forming friendships any easier. Her grades hiked, whereas mine dipped, she seemed buoyant and carefree, and my emotions took a toll for the worse. In general, her life had seemingly improved, and mine had taken the other path.

This feud of sorts lasted for more than a year, and in that period both of us had changed, developed, and ameliorated. A LOT. But, as the old saying goes, never judge a book by its cover. One day I ran into the person that I had learned to despise in the past year. Shravya. But there was something wrong with the person who was one of the reasons my life had hit the downward spirals.

 As I knocked on the door of an occupied bathroom stall to request the occupant to hurry up, I heard faint sobbing. Knocking harder and more persistently got her to open the door, revealing my former best friend in the most disheveled state imaginable. She was all hunched up, her neat uniform all crumpled up and her perfectly symmetrical make-up smudged. Humanity overtook the petty grudges inside me and I rushed to help her up. After getting her to calm down, she started her recital.

 “I’m..I’m..I’m” sorry was what shocked me. The stubbornness Shravya had displayed in all the years of being together, made me ponder on what this girl could want to apologize for?. I, however, was broken out of my train of thought when she started to sob again. “My life looks so good on the exterior, but inside it's just a confused pile of emotions and actions. I don’t know what to do..”

My mind went into a serious conflict mode, with one half of me wanting to keep my distance because of the way I’d been treated in this past year, and the other half, the more humane half of me, wanted to hear her out and comfort the damsel in distress. Both of my sides came to a compromise of sorts when I listened to what she had to say with a sour and displeasing expression.

“After our falling out, my mom and dad were very disappointed in me for treating you like that. I got a whole lot of speeches ‘never going back on your word’, ‘always stay true to what you and loved ones believe in’, and ‘what goes around, comes back’. At this I chuckled, shaking my head. “And yes, what I did to you did come back to bite me hard.” My eyebrows fought back all my brain's warnings and shot up into a surprised expression. “After we stopped talking, I went through many friendships, but everyone would break it off abruptly in some manner.” I wanted to apologize and make things right with you, but I figured you would be mad at me.” “Well, that and your astonishingly high standing ego”. Now it was her turn to chuckle. “Yeah, well that too.” 

That got me to smile the brightest I’d smiled since the day we got our not so happily ever after. “It's okay, I understand that, but I’ll never be ready to go back where we had been before you know what.” I pulled Shravya into a hug and whispered, “Like the old days, we’ve made up. AGAIN. But-“We’ll keep our distance.” She completed the sentence for me, knowing what I meant from the bottom of my heart. At that, I tightened the embrace I’d pulled her into.

What goes around, comes back, and the old days came back. The frenemies phase did both of us good.

[bumi-illustrates]

Reverie: Prologue

This story;plot, characters, ect. belongs to me. I have cross posted on Wattpad with the account Ali_on_Reverie so no trouble there. Have suggestions on how I can make it better? Please let me know! I will happily take all the feedback I can get! Thank you for reading! ~Ali I still remember the day the city was lost to beasts. It was a sunny morning. Not a single cloud disrupted the newly turned cerulean sky. Shades of blues and violets stretched down the ashen street as far as the eye could see. Tents selling trinkets, food and even some trying to coerce young children into their midst for games and prizes. All true signs the festival had finally begun.

The small hand I held squeezed mine, effectively capturing my attention.

“Michael! You weren’t listening to me. Again!”

I couldn’t help the sheepish smile that spread across my lips as I looked at her pastel face which was currently scrunched into a disapproving pout, “Sorry, Lacey. I got caught up in my thoughts again.”

If possible, her lips pulled tighter as she pulled her hand from mine to place both on her hips. She furrowed her snowy eyebrows as her nearly cerise eyes scowled up at me, “The doctors cleared me to come today. Don’t ruin this for me with all your silly worrying.”

“I’m your big brother. Worrying is what I’m supposed to do.” I countered, placing a hand on her shoulder with a light squeeze. I told myself it was to reassure her, but her and I both knew it was I who needed the assurance.

She crossed her arms over her chest as she flattened her expression, but kept her eyes on my own, “No, you’re supposed to be enjoying the festival with me.”

I sighed, squeezing her shoulder a bit tighter, “I-I know. I’m sorry.”

She smiled and unfolded her arms to wrap them around my waist. She looked up at me as she placed her chin flat against my chest. She visibly brightened as she shut her eyes as a large, toothy smile consumed her face, “Loosen up, okay? I’m not dead yet.”

I couldn’t help the sudden rush of paralysis that seemed to forcibly grip my body. Yet. She was right. Her health was on and off. The doctors were unable to diagnose her properly. Research was slow and it was more than likely her body would give out before a cure was found. Afterall, there’s no curing an illness that doesn’t exist. I vaguely registered Lacey’s grip falter on my waist and her eyes began to droop, “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

I barely made sense of her words as my own arms sluggishly moved to encircle her delicate frame. I couldn’t find the strength to look into her eyes, so I decided to keep my gaze set staring straight ahead. My eyes burned painfully as hot tears threatened to spill. My arms were growing steadily tighter around her and I could feel her worried gaze burning a hole underneath my jaw. The fabric of my shirt bunched tightly at my back and I slowly moved my eyes downward to meet my baby sister’s reassuring smile, “Let’s go visit dad. Please?”

I blinked, pushing away the heated saline my eyes were desperately trying to release as I gave a forced smile and tight nod. She returned to our previous position of tightly gripping my hand as we began to walk through the throng of the public. Some rushing to the next vendor to get to as many as they possibly could while others meandered, quietly observing the merriments. I could hear Lacey excitedly talking about the kiosks we passed, particularly the ones selling any kind of jewelry or crystals. She had always loved anything that sparkled. Mother called her ‘Little Crow’. No other nickname had ever fit so perfectly. When she was younger, Lacey would pick up anything and everything that even remotely shone in the light. She would then store it in a box and when it was finally full, she would use what was inside to decorate it.

The Festival of Worship was an excellent place to find jewels and anything that glitters. After all, it was rumored that the Goddess of Dreams adored twinkling trinkets. It was written at the temple that all the offerings given to Her were taken back to Her realm as a trophy and in turn, She would make the offeror’s wildest dream come true. The town’s people obviously didn’t have high expectations, or the municipality wouldn’t be crumbling to ruins beneath a giant gold temple.

“Michael, look! There’s dad!”

I almost lost my footing as Lacey sharply tugged on my arm, making a run towards our father’s booth. As our father’s ocean blue eyes caught sight of us, he began to wave with a large smile on his face.

“Lacey, my girl! The doctors finally let you out of the sick bay!”

“Too bad they let Michael pick me up! I don’t think he heard a single thing I said the whole way here!” She poked light heartedly.

Father’s slightly rounded gut shook as he gave a deep belly laugh, slapping a large hand on my back, consequently sending me stumbling forward a step, “Always the worrier, this one! Just like your mother!”

I grumbled as I gently pushed his hand away from me with my wrist, “I don’t understand how you aren’t worried. You do realize mom died because of the same thing, don’t you?”

He roughly moved his hand from my back to gripping the back of my neck and I found myself unable to stop from cringing slightly. As he began guiding us further into the booth and away from Lacey, he spoke lowly, “Listen, Mike. How is Lacey going to hold out hope for life if the people around her don’t? Do not misunderstand my feelings, boy. I loved your mother with everything I have, and I love you both just so.” I skeptically looked into his eyes, taking a slight notice of the wrinkles beginning to form at the corners. I couldn’t help but wonder where he was going with this, “Your sister will die. That much is certain.” I opened my mouth to scold him, but he held up his hand, silencing me, “You must come to terms with that. Now, if you take anything away from what I tell you here, let it be this, make her final days like her trinkets. Let the girl sparkle with all her might before she parts from this world. Our job is not to like what’s happening, or even to accept that it is happening. Our job is to make sure she knows she’s loved. If you want to be upset about the circumstances this family is in, do it away from her and when she’s in your presence, you pull your act together. You’re the older child, start acting like it, yeah?”

He placed a firm hand on my shoulder as I stubbornly decided to find the ground much more fascinating than him, “Stay back here until you’ve recollected yourself, I’ll tell Lacey I asked you to unpack some of the boxes. Join us up front when you’re sure you can keep a façade up. Ideally, you can find some happiness just being with her, but I understand it’s hard, so a façade will work fine, just make sure it’s believable, huh?”

He gave my shoulder a final pat before he began to walk back to the front of the booth where Lacey was currently fawning over one of his newest dream catchers. I caught the sound of their voices as they spoke. The noise of the streets in front began to fade as my hands clenched tightly into fists. I felt my jaw tighten as it locked firmly, pressing my teeth together uncomfortably. My eyes fixated angrily on the back of his head through the boxes that separated the front of the booth from the back. His once blonde hair was beginning to turn a pale shade of gray. His broad shoulders shook as his head leaned back slightly in laughter. I could barely make out Lacey’s snowy hair as she moved wildly in front of him, probably trying to get patrons passing by to stop and buy one of father’s dream catchers. Our booth started because mother loved to design and weave dream catchers. Every year at the festival, tourists and natives alike came to marvel at her creations. She had a knack for it and became something of a celebrity during the festival. When Lacey was no more than two years old, she would sit at the front of the booth with Lacey in her lap as she worked her materials to her liking. Father and I would be selling the dream catchers, sometimes the knickknacks would sell out faster than she could make them, and we would have to close the booth before the sun had even reached its peak.

Then the first person was diagnosed with a new illness. An illness that came in waves. One day the infected would be fine, the next they would be bedridden and on the brink of death. The symptoms were never the same, but there is one continuity, death. No matter the symptoms, each person infected will eventually die. Because the disease has no common symptoms, doctors and scientists have yet to be able to find a cause or a cure. Or a name.

I gave a forced sigh and loosened my hands. Closing my eyes, I took another deep breath in an effort to calm my rather active thoughts on the matter. There was no way I would lie about how I felt. Mother didn’t raise us to put up facades and hide behind false smiles. And I could never forgive myself if I dishonored her memory like that. Might as well make an honest man of dad. I thought bitterly to myself as I leaned over to pick up one of the partially unpacked boxes. I began pinning the dream catchers to a designated cork board to display them when what sounded like bursts of short hissing reached my ears.

“Pst. Pssssst!”

I lifted my head from my task and took note of the deep violet curtain that separated our booth from the ones next to us. Seeing nothing, I got back to work.

“Pssst! PSSSSSST!”

My eyebrows furrowed and my eye twitched in irritation.

“Michael! Pssst! Michael! Michael!”

Snapping my head sharply to look at the identical violet curtain behind me, I found an unmistakable face staring at me with a mischievous grin. Eyes like amber with threads of midnight hair framing a slightly tanned face poked out from underneath the makeshift wall. Her chin was supported by both hands with her elbows planted on the hard sidewalk beneath her. No doubt behind the curtain she was on her stomach with her ankles crossed and feet in the air. I couldn’t help the rather obnoxious snort that pushed itself through my nose.

“You are such a child. Get off the ground.” I scold, turning back to my pinning as I heard the curtain shuffle slightly.

“Come on, Mr. James! We’ve had this talk! You pooped on your party, but no way, no how I’m going to let you poop on mine!”

“So, what is it you wanted?” I asked, turning to look at her.

“Man, what is up with you? You’ve got a bigger thorn bush shoved up your backside than usual!” she complained, puffing out her cheeks slightly in disapproval.

“I’m just not in the mood right now, okay? We’ve got a lot going on.” I muttered, looking down at the work in front of me.

Jenna’s mom was best friends with my mother, so it stood to reason that Jenna and I grew up together. Normally I told her everything, but Lacey became sick almost a month ago. No one except the doctors, father and myself know. Father has always been a private kind of guy, especially after we lost mother. He wanted us to keep this to ourselves, the same way we hid mother’s for months before it was obvious, she was at her limit. I realized that during my little pity party, it had gone deathly silent save for the bustling of the festival. I quickly snapped my eyes up to find Jenna sitting on some boxes next to me. A flash of dread flooded my veins at the look in her eyes. It was so intense it sent a shiver through my heart, yet, I couldn’t decipher what emotion was dancing through her swirling pools of honey.

“I saw you pick Lacey up from the hospital.”

I felt a thousand needles suddenly pierce my already tingling body. My head began to spin and freeze up all at once. I could here my blood being pumped through my body, keeping me alive. Only, I didn’t feel alive. I felt cold and lifeless.

Before I could register what was going on, my chest felt heavy and soft, silky tresses were pressed against the side of my stiff neck. I could feel my shirt being gripped at my shoulder blades. My chest grew tighter and my eyes could no longer keep the burning, briny tears at bay. Though no sound escaped my mouth, I knew Jenna was aware of my tears because her grip on me tightened, as if she was trying to physically hold me together.

“It’s okay to cry, Michael.” Her voice was breathy, hardly a whisper, yet strained, as if she too, was trying not to cry.

I could feel more hot tears pool in my eyes as I bit my lip, trying desperately not to make a sound. My attempts failed as I let out a choked sob, quickly wrapping my arms securely around Jenna. My head fell to the crook of her neck and I could feel my emotions wracking my body, producing tremors. Jenna tightened her grip once more, placing her chin against my shoulder, her own tears dripping onto my shirt and soaking the skin underneath. But even though we found ourselves both in vulnerable positions, I found some form of comfort knowing I didn’t have to suffer without a friend. The rearing feeling of guilt in the thought of finding even a sliver of relief became a piercing stab planting itself deeply in my gut. Even with the pain of it, I couldn’t quench the small relief I was feeling.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I felt her nimble fingers at the nape of my neck, gently using her nails to absent mindedly brush the hair there, “Don’t apologize. And I know it’s not what you want to hear, but your dad is right. I know this is hard, especially after losing your mom only two years ago. But besides that, Lacey needs you. For the time being, there is no cure. So, try to just think about the now. Love her and be with her before you have the chance to regret it.”

I pulled back from her, staring at her soft features, “How did you-?”

“I was on the floor longer than you think. I just didn’t want to make things awkward.” Her eyes were red from crying, but her lopsided grin was still bright and full of life.

I couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped past my barely upturned lips. Using the heel of my palms I wiped away the evidence of my tears. Jenna was still smiling at me when I looked fully at her for what seemed like the first time since she made herself known. I took a deep breath before releasing it, calming my body and easing my thoughts.

“I hate to admit it, but the old man and you are right. I need to focus my time and energy on being happy with Lacey.” I casually turned to stand next to Jenna rather than in front of her. With a quick swing of my arm, I wrapped her shoulders in a half hug and locked her to my side, “What say you, we take Lacey around the festival? We can buy her something sparkly, eat good food, play some games? Who knows? Maybe pulls some pranks on unsuspecting pedestrians?”

Jenna laughed and wrapped her own arm behind me to grip my shoulder, “Now that sounds like a good party! Let’s get to it!”

Letting go of each other, we made our way to the front of the tent where we found Lacey finishing up a sale and father standing behind her, beaming with pride. He must have heard us approaching because he turned his head slightly and smiled wider, “Michael! Finally finished that box, huh? And how are you today, Jenna?”

“Doing great, Mr. James! You’ve certainly out done yourself with all these beautiful dream catchers!” She gave him a quick hug before looking pointedly at all the dream catchers hanging from the makeshift rafters, he had rigged them up with some old wire fencing.

“Thank you kindly, kiddo! Remember, you’re always more than welcome to help yourself to your favorite!”

“Maybe later, dad. We were hoping we could take Lacey around to look at some of the vendors before tonight. You know, before the crowds really set in.”

His eyes widened a bit before a soft smile fell upon his face, “I think that’s a great idea.”

I returned his smile and gave a quick nod before approaching Lacey.

“Thank you, ma’am! Please enjoy the festival!”

A small click could be heard as Lacey shut the small money box located under a small table covered with a lavender tablecloth. I stepped forward into her peripheral vision and she turned quickly to look at me with that smile that looked so much like our mother’s.

“Michael! Did you see? I made my first sale!”

“I saw, and by the looks of the wad of cash you stuffed into the box, it was a good one.”

“She bought three of dad’s catchers! Three!”

I beamed at her, but the tightness in my chest was beginning to ebb its way back into me. How many more sales will she get to make? I shut my eyes and took a quick breath to shake the negative feelings away. This isn’t about that. Not now.

“How about Jenna and I take you to look around? You know, to celebrate.”

The expression that seemed to take over her entire body made a warm, gentle feeling spread over me, like a cozy blanket on a cold night. Or the first sip of hot chocolate while watching the snowfall. However, it was gone as quickly as it came. The realization that once Lacey is gone, I’ll never get to witness that adorable face she makes when she’s excited ever again. It will be gone, along with everything else I love about her.

“Michael! Are you ready or what?” Jenna’s voice called me back to reality and I realized they were already standing outside of the tent, staring quizzically at me.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” I tried to keep my voice from shaking, the looks on their faces letting me know that even if the tremor in my voice was there, it went unnoticed by the two girls.

As I moved to leave, father’s voice called me, “Son!” Before I could turn to look at him, I felt strong arms around my shoulders, “Thank you. And be careful out there.”

The look in his eyes caught my attention as we pulled away and forced an uncomfortable wave of confusion into my heart. Be careful? It’s the Festival of Worship. Why does he look sad? Shouldn’t he be happy? Why does this feel like he knows something? No. I took notice of a flash of knowing scatter through his vibrant blue eyes. I found myself skeptically narrowing my own at him. No. He does know something.

“Right. We’ll be back before sunset.” I spoke slowly, trying to gage his reaction.

He just smiled and it was as if the tension had suddenly burst into thin air. As if the moment had never happened, “No need to rush! You know the festival is always so beautiful at night! I’ll be fine running the booth on my own! Go on! Enjoy yourselves!”

My brows furrowed in confusion, but I didn’t want to worry Jenna and Lacey with, well, whatever that was.

“R-Right. Thanks, dad. We’ll be careful.”

I began walking swiftly towards the waiting girls, when his voice reached my ears once more. It sounded like a warning. My step faltered and I turned to ask what he had said, but his back was to me as he headed towards the back. A suffocating sensation gripped my throat. What the heck was that about? Deciding to ask about it later, I continued towards the girls, covering my mouth slightly with a fist as I uneasily cleared my throat. But even so, I couldn’t shake the feeling that was keeping me from nearly gasping for air. Get your answers later, I told myself determinedly, you need to focus on having a good time with Lacey and Jenna. That is your only concern. Don’t let your emotions take over.

As we began walking, a thought clicked into my head that cause me to groan involuntarily. This is what a façade is. Ugh! I’m such a liar. I ended the thought with a defeated sigh and looked up to the girls just in time, as Lacey grabbed Jenna’s hand and made a ninety degree turn towards a booth selling crystal pendants and figurines. I smiled slightly, happy to see her having a good time, happy that they didn’t notice my little self-berating episode.

“Michael! Look! This one looks like Sprinkles!” Lacey squealed, raising a small red cat figurine.

The cut of it had rather large ears and the tail was carved to be straight up with a small curve added to the tip of it. Running down the figurines back was a lighter stripe, almost orange. To top it off, a pair of tiny sapphires glinted slightly in the light, giving the crystal a pair of magnificent blue eyes.

My eyes were fixated on the tiny cobalt stones as I smiled, remembering our old cat that was inappropriately named Sprinkles. Lacey had picked the name. I still remember her explanation, “I love sprinkles! And I love this kitty!” But, even with the sweet name, that cat was the worst. Lacey was constantly covered in scratches and father couldn’t come within a few feet of the little monster without getting his ankles bit. Mother was allergic to him, so she stayed away from him. Surprisingly enough, that cat never really bothered me. He wasn’t exactly what I would have called friendly, but he would curl up next to me on the couch and nap. Never touching me, but always close. We more had an indifferent relationship. He minded his space, I minded mine.

“That cat was the worst!” Jenna laughed, speaking my thoughts.

“Aw, come on! He was just grumpy because he was old! Remember your grandpa? He was grumpy, too!” Lacey defended despite the laugh beginning to slip from her lips.

“Lacey, Lacey, Lacey.” Jenna smiled with a slow shake of her head, “Gramps was grumpy for a totally reason. Trust me. Living with Gram was no easy feat.”

At that, the laugh Lacey was trying to hold back erupted full force and the two of them practically fell into each other as the laughter consumed them. I chuckled slightly at the two before turning to the owner, “She’ll take it.”

After paying for the Sprinkles look-a-like, we continued through the streets. Vendors were lined up for about a mile on either side of main street. Behind the tents and booths, various sizes of brick buildings stood. Some stood tall, having recently been reinforced, while others had large cracks and faded color. Most of the buildings were erected with red bricks of varying shades, most of them housing units for the towns people. Any shop buildings or warehouses were built with concrete. The separation in color helped tourists know which buildings were public and which were private.

We continued to walk down the road. Typical asphalt, like most places. It used to be cobblestone, but times change, and the people decided they wanted to keep up with the times as best we could. Not that our tiny town is exactly modern. More like an old, forgotten city that someone took pity on and decided to try to care for it. The sidewalks in Spero were wider than what is normally found. The people here like to walk to their destination, and with the added width, what I assumed to be about double what most are, the festival is made the much easier. The vendors have plenty of room to stay on the sidewalk to stay off the road which leaves plenty of room for both pedestrians and the occasional vehicle.

The longer we walked and the more places we stopped; I couldn’t help but take in all the decorations. Lavenders, violets and indigos. A lot of blues and teals. But most appealing to me, were the little accents of gold and maroon. Some tents even had yellow curtains or streamers hanging down the sides of their set up. Above the tents were strings of lights. Some had more than others and some had decided against the lights and gone for hanging lines of decorative jewels surrounded by gold. The reflection of the sun on the metals and gems tricked the eye into believing it was glowing, even in the light of day. Come nightfall, they would reflect the lights of the other vendors and the entire town will glow as if fairies and mythical creatures lived here.

I had been so lost in thought I hadn’t realized we were already standing back in front of father’s booth. Lacey and Jenna were talking excitedly about everything we had seen and already planning their trip back through when the sun finally went down. Wait a minute. The sun. I finally got myself up to my thoughts and looked up. I felt my eyes widen and my heart skip a beat. What?

“Michael, what’s wrong?” Lacey asked, cutting off her conversation when she noticed me staring towards the sky.

“The sun.”

She and Jenna shared a worried glance, “What about it?”

My body froze in place as my eyes desperately snapped back and forth, up and down. Looking. Searching. What happened? The longer I stared, the more rigid I became.

“This isn’t possible.”

The words leaving my lips seemed so far off, like some one else had been the one to speak it.

“Michael! What’s wrong?” Jenna spoke forcefully. Not angry, no. She was scared. I was scaring her.

But I couldn’t help it. I was losing my grip on reality. This can’t be happening! This can’t be real! It’s not possible! I have to do something! I have to say something! Why can’t I move? Panic began to set in as my body gave in completely to the terror I was feeling. My limbs felt like anchors and my chest was constricting painfully. It was getting worse. It was becoming unbearably tight. Like someone had placed a vice around my chest and was just waiting for it to get tight enough to pop my body like a grape.

Lacey and Jenna were at my side now. Lacey pulling desperately on my sleeve, begging me to answer her. Jenna was in front of me, snapping her fingers in front of me, shouting at me, even go as far as to slap me across the face. They screamed and sobbed, begging and hollering. The commotion caused father to come rushing from the back of the booth. His expression turned, dark, hard.

“Get away from him!” He bellowed, taking one girl in each arm and pulling them away from me and back into the booth.

“But dad! What’s happening? Why isn’t Michael responding?” Lacey cried.

Before he could answer, a solid force slammed directly into my chest. The might of it must have knocked my body from whatever hold it was previously under, though not for long. I felt a hand grab my right wrist tightly, at the same moment I felt an arm from the same side wrap securely around my waist. I another foreign hand grasped my left hand, intertwining their fingers with mine. A shiver of disgust ran down my spine as a fourth hand gripped my jaw, forcing me to look forward. Whatever was holding me pressed itself against my back and I went stiff once more.

“People of Spero!” It was a she. Definitely a woman. Her voice was sharp, it cut right through me and my body jolted in fear. The arm around my waist tightened at my involuntary movement, but she continued, “Your angel has arrived!”

The ice in my blood quickly shifted to fire. Angel? What angel has four arms and attacks a human? Angel my foot! You’re nothing but a disgusting demon! I was suddenly able to move again, though not for long as I was spun around to face the thing holding me. She used my right arm to pull me closer to her, the arm around my waist moving to grip my neck. Not tight enough to cut off air, but enough to do so in the blink of an eye if she needed. I sucked in a sharp breath nervously.

“You, insolent little boy! Insulting the very being that currently holds your life in her hands is a fool’s move, child!” She hissed, baring sharp, incredibly white teeth.

I swallowed hard. She heard me! How?

A flash of amusement crossed her face before she narrowed her gamboge eyes at me once more, “And for further education, child, an angel, is not a being.” She spoke from further back in her throat now. A sound that reverberated up and down my spine with each word, a low husky drawl that was clearly a thing of nightmares, “Angel means messenger. And I am yours.”

[wearejapanese]

By Curtiss Takada Rooks

What does it mean to be Japanese? To be Black? To be both, at the same time. To be sure the world sees me as Black—I’d say African American but that would be too polite because the ways in which I am treated, looked at, questioned, and feared says Black (this might well be the subject of another column). Yet, inside where my mind reasons, where my mind feels, sees and hears I am Japanese and Black. To separate them is nearly impossible, at least for those of my generation—I was born in Japan in 1957 the second son and youngest child but, primarily reared in the U.S. Indeed, I was raised throughout the U.S., having called Kansas, North Carolina and Texas home as child. As an adolescent I spent my formative years on Okinawa. As an adult, New Hampshire, Pennsylvania, Connecticut, Alaska, and California (northern & southern) have occupied my return address.

As a cultural anthropologist I can argue gracefully how the two cultures of my parents were differences in kind with differing emphases, but as a person such abstract notions fall hollow--for while the two cultures may indeed be vastly different in mannerisms and expression, growing up in my family they were the same in context. For instance, both my Japanese mother (from Yokohama, Japan) and my African American father (from Wilmington, NC) emphasized the primacy of family, respect of elders and adults, obedience to parents, birth roles and duty to the family. They also drilled home hard work, education, team spirit, and the valuing of others before ones’ self. And, above all they valued “doing what is right” because it is right.

My parents taught me that as a younger brother I should honor and obey my older brother. My brother and I flourished in our family roles. To this day he is still my champion. I can never ever repay him the untold hours of baseball and football catch he played to make me what would become an intercollegiate college football player. Nor, can I repay him for his forceful rebukes when I messed up or disrespected my mom. Even today he is my “onichan” on whom I know that if all else fails, he IS there.

But our teachings did not end there. We were taught “hard work” and full effort. I can remember a time in college. In my freshman winter term I nearly flunked out of college. When I brought my grades home to my mom, she merely said, “The sun will come up tomorrow.” Throughout that term I had told my mom how hard it was, and how hard I was working. I was frustrated and afraid. After all, poor grades were always what “other people received.” Her words when the “F” appeared on the report card surprised me. I thought she’d be mad, disappointed and embarrassed. Her words told me a whole host of things, including “she loved me” without actually saying them. By my senior year my grades had turned around and I brought home a “good report card.” She left it on the dining room table. During that break a friend of mine was at the house and upon seeing the report card said to my mom, “I bet you’re proud of Curtiss.” She merely replied, “It’s about time.” My friend was taken aback. But, I was not. Again, she had said, “she loved me” and was proud of me. After all, if not, she would have hidden that report card somewhere among the scores of empty tofu cartons and Styrofoam meat trays. I knew that I had brought her honor.

My African American father, too, emphasized effort and commitment. When I first began playing organized football my father was my head coach. The irony was that on the field he was not my father he was my coach. Yet, to me he was also my father in that I knew that my actions reflected upon him. If I did not give my full effort, I reasoned, then why would any of the other players on the team give their full effort. Every play at practice or during the games commanded my full attention, every block my total effort and I knew I needed to be at the lead of every wind sprint. Every success reflected his effort. This notion of commitment to the coach beyond the “game” continued to drive me throughout my athletic career. Indeed I remember thinking in college that my performance on the field could impact my coach’s employment and his ability to care for his family—Coach Kopp had four children and a wife whose smile still warms my memories. In concert with my father’s teaching were my mother’s admonitions of “don’t embarrass the family” and “don’t show off.” Or in other words work hard, attend to business and remember you are a part of something larger than yourself—in this case a team. (I guess this was the Japanese version of there is no “i” in team.) Together my parents’ teachings provided me with the mental foundation for athletic and academic success.

My parents continually taught me that I was a part of something larger than myself, be it my family, ethnic group or team. They trained me to recognize and respond to the needs of others and to take into account what other people think, without letting it “totally” control me. In that sense, they also taught me to be myself, albeit within situational constraints because my actions would NEVER represent just me, but would reflect upon family, race/ethnic group and my associations.

When I look at how the two cultures of my parents came together in our household I never reasoned the two as conflicting. Within African American cultural tradition, my father taught me the value of my mother. She was to be respected, obeyed, honored and protected. Within Japanese cultural tradition my immigrant mother taught me to value my father. He was to be respected, obeyed, honored and protected. My father taught me through stories and words. My mother taught me through actions and few words. In this way, the two cultures complimented each other.

Yet, there were differences.

Communicating with my parents required remembering to whom you were talking to. My father demanded eye contact, while my mother required eyes directed downward--particularly when I was in trouble. Trust me by the age of 5 I knew the difference, especially because I got so much practice. And when they called me out together, my head bobbed up and down—not unlike those little dogs in the back of a car window or the bobble head dolls given out at athletic events these day--as I attempted to quickly respond to whomever was talking.

And, there was also creation.

Perhaps the most fun mixture of culture came at the kitchen table. Gohan with every meal, turnip or mustard greens cooked slowly on Sunday afternoon, sweet potato pie at holidays, octopus or squid to freak out my Midwestern high school friends, and of course teriyaki chitlins made our family cuisine our own.

As I think about this topic I am a bit more reflective because my mother lost her fight to lung cancer in 2001 and my father died in 1975. I miss them both dearly. Despite having talked and written about “mixed issues” for some 25 years now, thinking about how I have come to be who I am continues to be interesting for me. What part is Japanese? What part is Black? I love the spontaneity of African American culture. The joy of a loud belly laugh has embarrassed my Sansei wife and daughter more than once in public settings—though I think they are both used to it now. I love everyday directness of Japanese and Japanese American culture. I mean where else can you speak of a bowel movement in the same breath as what’s for dinner. I value the African American ability to be “in your face” when my family and friends are at stake. I respect the Japanese American quiet reserve where words are not needed to communicate even the deepest emotions and, where conflict can be resolved through indirect actions. I love back beat of Johnny Mori’s Taiko solos, teriyaki flavored fried chicken at church potlucks and friends whom my daughter calls auntie and uncle. So, I am left with the questions of what does it mean to be? But you know what...the most fun is the continual discovery of the answers.

[katiebruce]

Year of the Silver Star

It’s taken me a while to sit down and right my annual end-of-the-year post. Normally, I’ve got this post done in the weeks leading up to New Year’s Eve, or, at the very least, the night before. Yet, here we are.

 I think part of it is my fear of letting go of what was such an incredible year for me. I know I’m basically alone in having had a great 2017—that’s okay, I’m usually an outcast anyways—but also a sense that I’ve peaked and will now plateau, if not avalanche, downwards into both my Saturn Return and my thirties. Whatever it may be, I owe it to both one of the best years of my life and one of the strangest starts to a new year I’ve ever had to document it.

 So, here it is.

 I started 2017 doing one of my favorite things: being out of the country. Sure, I was working, and sure, I wasn’t with my most favorite people, or in one of my favorite cities (not to shade Toronto, by any means)—but I had a good time. I had this overall feeling of excitement and change and that air of “anything is possible” that often accompanies the completion of a year--but somehow more than ever before. Something just felt right.

 I knew that starting the year off out of the country would provide ample travel opportunities and I made no hesitation in starting that right away. My best friend and I flew to Philly for a weekend—to see one of our favorite emo bands, mind you—and explored the frigid city in all its historic glory. About a week later, I flew to Vegas for my roommate’s bachelorette party, which, in and of itself, was easily one of the most eventful things that happened last year…

 February came and I turned 28 and celebrated with my girl gang at a library themed, Oscar Wilde bar. We got LIT-erary. I still find that fucking hilarious. We ended the night at our favorite watering hole, The good old Owl and ended up getting called The Spice Girls which was actually such a revelation for us (and even though Nicole wasn’t there, she somehow was the fifth we needed and the universe fucking knew it.)

 About a week or so later, me, Bethany and Lo flew across the fucking pond. We traveled London, Liverpool and Edinburgh for a week and froze our bloody arse’s off. In London, Lauren and I had a most memorable night where we were both kissed by a rose and wound up and a Beyonce bash, complete with face masks of Bey and all. I was catcalled in the most British way possible: “Oi, that’s a big bottom!” and I ended up meeting a guy we referred to as Mr. Grey for the better part of the year. He and I would, uh, well, fuck it. We’d have facetime sex at like, the most awkward hours and tbh it was sexy and made me feel great and I walked a little lighter and enjoyed how silly it was for a while. Of course, it ended a few months in, as these things often do, but I can’t deny the fun I had and I feel like I shouldn’t. Everyone should have sex with a sex monster (yes, that’s what I’m going to refer to him as now) at least once in their life. It was a wild ride.

 Beebs and I got inked in Liverpool on an absolute whim, and I had a sixty-year-old man tell me about the time he saw Bowie on the Ziggy Stardust tour as we listened to Lorde and he forever immortalized my love of The Thin White Duke on my forearm. This is when I really started letting go last year; I’m not very good at being impulsive. I may appear to be, but deep down I have grave anxiety about pretty much anything I do. I’ve just been lucky enough to have people who are willing to tolerate it and help me work past it in my adult life. But something changed in me in Liverpool, that drunken night where I not only decided I would get inked but thought up the concept mere hours before having it forever, and I can say I completely allowed this new girl to inhabit me and take over for the remainder of the year.

 I fell in love with Edinburgh and decided that, should I pursue a Master’s degree in the next few years, I’ll be going to school there. I’ve never felt quite as home as I did there. (I realize I’ve always said that about London, but trust me, if something was ever going to top Lahndo, it must be true love.)

 Me and the girls (all sexed up from chatting with all the foreign boys we did) had a most memorable night when we got home getting drunk at a sex store together and spending a collective $800 or so dollars on toys and lingerie. Self-care, bitches.

 In March, I watched as my roommates committed to a beautiful forever together. It was also my first time as a bridesmaid, and holy cow are weddings a lot of work. I’ve always said I’ll have a tiny wedding, if not just elope, but holy hell the experience from the inside only solidified that in my mind.

 Spring came and went and I grew my hair longer and cut it short again, yearned for warmth and visited my sister in Florida & flew to visit Kris in his newly adopted city of Denver. This is also around the time where I went on a few Tinder dates (Lord, help me) and fell, soul-crushingly head over heels for a guy I met one fleeting day at work…

 I took Acid on a third date which resulted in it also being The Last Date, but it made me see text messages as bubbles and I battled a dragon trying to get money from and ATM and watched a Star Wars for the first time (and last time) and had an evening of bad, trippy sex. Nothing like hallucinogenics to make you realize you are not in sync with another person, lol.

 So it goes.

 I traveled Europe for two weeks with Ellie which was lovely and exhausting. I returned to my beloved Italy, which was huge for me, as I always wanted to go before it had been ten years since the last time I stepped foot in the first foreign country I ever visited. We got drunk in San Marco Square and listened to battling string quartets and fell in love with foreign men we were too afraid to talk to and I was old enough this time around to know not to order a Long Island iced tea from a bartender who barely understood English in the first place…

 We eventually, by some form of absolute witchcraft, caught a flight to the tiny Greek island of Santorini and legit lived in a cave house for five days. We walked all over that tiny island and I let the sea breeze cleanse my skin and my hair and my heart and my mind. We watched the sunset every evening as if it were a spectacle to behold (it was—it always is) and just really let ourselves tell time by nature, and how it made our bodies feel. It was really a humbling experience to be in a place that’s so, so small. Going to Athens (via a ten hour ferry ride, mind you) was a bit of culture shock after being so confined for so long. Being in one of the most Eastern cities in Europe, however, really just made my itching to go to the middle east even more dire.

 I had a rough summer in terms of mental health; I hate summer flying (& the debilitating crush I mentioned above seemingly saved me—for like a week—and then left just as fleetingly as it arrived and left me in a pretty low place. I still dream about the guy regularly; I had two separate one’s last night.)

 I started taking Xanax again. Because, well, life is hard and my roommate has a prescription.

 I got to explore the beautiful, beautiful part of Wyoming that is Yellowstone National Park and got to see the beautiful, beautiful human being my best friend is becoming in the process. For a few days we camped, explored, and just really took in nature—even a death storm that threatened to turn our tent into a boat—it was a beautiful experience and I’m glad Nicole has found a place to call her home surrounding her with such beautiful, expressive people.

 August came and with the promise of September on its heels, I started to feel like myself again. Virgo season always does it to me; it’s my polar opposite and therefore, my most compatible sign. Ellie and I got another round of impulsive tattoos; strawberries—a quote stolen from Shakespeare that really just became a euphemism for our friendship throughout the year. We went to riot fest and I saw New Order and cried and Paramore (for the first time since I was, like, nineteen… and while we’re in a side note, let me just mention how much After Laughter was very much the soundtrack to my year and I’m not ashamed to admit it) and Ellie cried and we just had a very fun few days in the hot Chicago heat.

 I chose to recover from this by getting yet another tattoo; my largest & most intricate to date, so that made for an interesting, but wonderful day. It’s also worth noting that I got it in the south side of Chicago so, like, if I ever go to prison at least I’ve got that going for me.

 I returned to Milwaukee and had a riotous night with my girls where I got hit on by two famous band members and it was like, the stuff dreams are made of. I know it’s silly to assign worth to someone’s fame, but you have someone hit on you who has, like, a million Instagram followers & songs in like fifty different movies and see how it makes you feel & then judge me. This also started my love affair with the lesser famous band member who I’ve now entered into some weird “see you around Chicago” love affair thing for the past few months where we both flirt and ignore each other simultaneously. It’s wild.

 I saw so many bands and cried to so many songs and discovered so many artists and felt all the things.

 Friendsgiving came, and Nicole came, & along with her came The Con X tour. Without getting too into it, that was a huge shifting point for me & 2017 in general. The Con was an album that saved my life both metaphorically & also, like, physically, and to be able to stand outside of the depression that nearly took my life ten years prior and say, loudly, “I am still here and I like my life and sort of like the person I am but I am also trying to become better each and every day and it’s all very much worth it” is beautiful and powerful thing.

 My mom and I spent a wonderful weekend in Vancouver, exploring the cold north and even got to go whale watching, which was, honestly, one of the most breathtaking, awe inspiring experiences I’ve ever taken part in. Nothing will make you feel as small as floating in a yellow zodiac in the middle of the ocean surrounded by six Orcas and a baby (but fucking huge!) humpback whale will. Nature does a good job of reminding us of just how insignificant we are.

 The holidays just passed and I forgot about two ex-lover’s birthdays until days after each had past. I’m a big fan of dates; so this, too, was a huge thing for me. My Saturn Return stressed me out for months, yet finally arrived, subtlety, yet very directly. I assigned all my turmoil the Mercury Retrograde and the moon’s rotation yet also tried to use that bad air as a way to propel myself further into becoming better in some odd way. 

I spent a week at home in Tampa and the past week here in Chicago and I’ve been reflective and passive towards the new year, which is new for me. I celebrated the end of one of my favorite years, Year of the Silver Star, seeing Twin Peaks at one of my favorite venues in the world. I’ve lately adopted such a deep, profound love for Chicago that I can’t say was always there. I’ve always loved it here; don’t get me wrong. But lately I’ve just got this overwhelming sense of pride about living here and the person it’s shaped me to be. I truly live in the greatest city in America; it’s such a quiet, best kept-secret and it’s all fucking mine.

 So, in saying goodbye, I realize I am also going to be mourning the death of a good friend to me—2017—in the process. There’s a certain amount of fear that comes after having such a good year. Can anything else compare? Where will I go from here? What does the future hold for my small, insignificant experience on this planet?

 At least David Bowie can’t die again.

 2018 has had a slow, humble start. I think that’s going to be the theme, though—slow and steady. I’m cautious because I’m aging (twenty-nine in a few weeks. twenty-fucking-nine!) but also because of my fear and understanding of Saturn Return. I was just becoming comfortable with impulsive kb, and am now being faced with a wise, considerate version of myself. I’m really trying to act thoughtfully & with reason.

 I will not invite toxic relationships, old or new, into my life. I will not settle for less than what I what, just because I am afraid to voice what I do want. I will not let anything stop my travel plans—and boy, do I have a lot of them for this year.

 I will move out of my apartment, my home for the last seven years, in four short months. I will turn a new leaf. I will (finally) graduate college. I will likely have bad sex. But, I will also have good sex. Really, really good sex. I can feel it; it’s vaginal intuition. I will visit India and bask in the beauty of the Taj Mahal and dream of a love so wild that someone might dream of building me something so grand in order to express their feelings for me some day. I will visit Australia and New Zealand, Iceland, China and who knows where else. I will continue to learn about myself, slowly, humbly, and try to embrace the woman I am and the one I want to become.

So, 2018, Year of the Stardust, I salute you and your intrinsic ability to control what’s next for me. I know it’s going to be a transitional year; that’s inevitable. But I will do my best to accept your place in my life with open arms and love. I will try every day to better understand my place in this world, and what’s next for me. I will continue to grow up. I will end my twenties with you!

 I eagerly await your lessons and turmoil, & burn sage in beginning you, officially, tonight. (After all, it’s a full moon and that feels more like a fresh start than some mortal-made calendar, anyways.)

Cheers to you, Stardust. May the crumbling of my Silver Star bring only beauty within you.

[shallwedancetogether]

July 27, 2018

Sometimes it’s so hard to know how you’re supposed to feel; what’s normal and what’s not; what’s temporary and what’s long term. Which is how I have found myself feeling lately.

To start off, there is some background information to me that I’ve always thought about. My grandmother had severe depression. I don’t know much about her specific condition nor have I ever met my grandma. All I really know is that she would stay in bed for days while my grandpa worked for the family and did other things around the house. I am unsure of her exact age when she passed, but when my dad was 17 years old, my grandmother committed suicide. So for the majority of my dad’s life, his mother was not around, and this can really take a toll on someone.

I have a specific memory of my mom being upset with me, probably school-related since it was in high school, and telling me that she thought I might have depression along with my dad. I remember her saying that she can see signs of it in both of us, and that is something that has always stuck with me. Sure, I’ve had my days where I don’t want to do anything, can’t motivate myself to do stuff, want to stay in bed and sleep all day, and just feel all around sad. But everybody has those days or periods in their lifetime, especially when things are not currently going so well in their life. But it becomes a problem when it sticks around for a long time.

Since that day, I have analyzed things that my father does that relates to depression over the years. He sleeps a lot. This can be a sign of depression, but I also have to keep in mind that my dad is a paramedic so he works several nights a week where he may be up all night because of runs. So on his days off he needs to catch up on sleep. He also has prostate cancer to which has resulted in chemo and radiation, both making him weaker and having decreased energy, another symptom of depression. With that, it also comes with appetite and/or weight changes, which is also a sign of depression. After chemotherapy three years ago, his weight and appetite was a direct change for him. He is very irritable and can have very quick mood changes, but that can also come from lack of sleep from the fire station and also with his cancer medications that mess with his sleeping habit. So he sleeps when he can, but when at home, it seems that is how he spends the majority of his day. He also moves more slowly than he used to, but within the past four years, he has been diagnosed with cancer, pulled a muscle in his leg and back from playing hockey, and taken cancer medications that have made it hurt to walk for long periods of time. So while I have noticed some signs my entire life, some are more recent, and some have only increased because of other circumstances.

Jumping forward to myself, I have looked around and somewhat educated myself on depression and compared my findings to myself. I have always had difficulties concentrating, remembering, and occasionally making decisions. I get irritable easily and have mood swings. I get anxious and overwhelmed very easily which causes me overthink a lot. I have also had nights where I have difficulty sleeping. I have feelings of guilt, worthlessness, and helplessness. I am consistently anxious and have an “empty mood.” So I want to go more in depth with these.

I have only begun to seriously think that I may have depression within the past year or so. I mentioned before that I have difficulty concentrating, remembering, and making decisions. While this is a symptom of depression, I also have ADHD. I was diagnosed with ADHD at the age of 12 and have been taking medicine for it ever since, so around 10 years now. I can physically feel a difference when I take medicine for my ADHD. I feel the need to do stuff and not waste away my day, and I can actually hold my concentration on things for long periods.

I get irritable very easily and have mood swings. I have noticed that I tend to be more irritable towards my family, and I think that somewhat stems from the environment I grew up in. I do have mood swings. Just last night I really noticed it. I was out with my boyfriend and his old college roommates to hangout and play trivia at a bar by my house. This was a playoff round of trivia for my friends’ team, and for whatever reason, my friend, let’s call him Ed, wanted everyone to sit in very specific seats at the table. While I am friends with my boyfriend’s roommates, I don’t know them as well as he does, along with Ed’s family who was there. The one thing I wanted most was to sit next to my boyfriend; he is my comfort when I am uncomfortable. But Ed forced my boyfriend to sit across from me instead, since we were on a separate team from everyone else. As soon as that happened, after I tried questioning it, I immediately felt like crying. It literally came out of nowhere. For the rest of the night, I felt my mood go from having a good time to being the complete opposite within seconds of something happening that I didn’t like. After trivia, my boyfriend came over to hangout for a half hour. When he got up to leave, my mood immediately switch over, and I cried out of nowhere. A similar thing happened after I got out of the shower the other day, and I was just thinking about things. I got out, and tears just fell from my eyes. I couldn’t stop it. All the things I have been feeling recently made me overwhelmed, and everything I was holding back came out. It seems I cannot control it at all lately.

These past few months I have had difficulty sleeping. I can’t fall asleep early enough, and my body wakes up around 6am a lot these days. I know part of it stems from my work schedule, too. The moment I realize I am awake it seems as if I can’t go back to sleep because my thoughts immediately start circling. Yes, sometimes I wake up because my dog sleeps with me and wakes me early for she has been fed between 6 and 7am her whole life. I normally can fall right back to sleep after things like this, even if it’s 20 minutes before I have to get ready for work, but as of late, that is not the case in the slightest bit.

I have feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, and helplessness. My family has always had a tendency to have high expectations of each other and to put you down if you are not reaching those expectations. My grandpa is the worst at it, and he remembers every little wrong thing you could ever do. This trait has been passed down to my dad and his two brothers. While I do not want to fail anybody, I always seem to. It has gotten to the point where my grandpa barely speaks to me because he is not happy with how I have ever done in school, and when he does speak to me, it only relates to school. I used to talk to him several days a week. I have always fallen under the pressure that has been put on me, and as the years have gone on, I have felt less of myself because I always seem to be disappointing someone. My entire life I have been compared someone. There’s my cousin, who is the same age as me and has always succeeded academically. More recently, I get compared to my younger cousins because they all have gone to major universities and have full scholarships to play sports years before they have even finished high school. I go to an OK school where I live, but my grandpa has even told me that he doesn’t think I’ll get a job with a degree from my university to the point where he has offered me $1,000 if I am actually able to land a job after graduation.

My junior year of college was my worst academically, to the point where my grandpa threatened to stop paying for my schooling and to pull me out. I made some changes, and even went to see a therapist for a few months where I learned cognitive behavior therapy for my anxiety and ADHD. I’m glad I made these changes and realized things that are going on with me, but I still struggle with them a lot. I still feel helpless when it comes to my schoolwork. I get stuck sometimes and don’t want to ask for help; the thought barely even comes to mind for me. With that, I feel hopeless that no one can help me so I will just be on a downward spiral forever.

Last but not least, I have a lot of anxiety. Anxiety can get bad enough to where people have difficulty leaving their house. I do not believe that my anxiety is that bad, but I overthink many things. My head goes in circles to the worst possible scenarios and prevents me from doing things. For example, for my e-board position for my fraternity, I am required to send out emails to set up meetings with companies to come talk about what their company does and positions they have to offer. I will put off doing these emails until the last possible minute because I get afraid I will somehow mess up a simple email that I have a sample to base it off. I have been in the library doing homework when I suddenly feel overwhelmed and tear up because I don’t think I can finish the homework because of how lost I am. It has happened while I’m with my boyfriend in his room when I get stuck on a homework problem and have broken down in tears because I think that if I can’t finish this assignment, I’m going to fail the class and eventually get pulled out of school because I have yet again disappointed my family with my grades.  

All of that with some research has led me to believe that I have some form of depression. It also comes from papers I was mailed from a new doctor. I have to have these papers filled out by the time of my appointment in two weeks, and the first page asks you how you have been feeling over the past two weeks. You fill it out and total your points to see if you have a form of depression, and I have fallen in the “moderate depression” category. It’s all I can seem to think about for the past several days, and I can’t shake it. Or if I do “shake it,” I’m ignoring my feelings, which is bad for my anxiety.

While the future of what may come of this scares me, my boyfriend and I texted about it all, and I thought it’d be best to not hold back what I was feeling. Luckily I have a great support system from my boyfriend and my best friend that I feel that I will be able to get through this and figure it out. As the days are getting closer to school starting back up, my anxiety seems to be at an all time high, and I seem to be down a lot more these days than not. I plan to see the same therapist I saw a year ago when school starts, and hopefully things can go up from there.

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“Depression isn’t just sadness. Sometimes it’s emptiness or hopelessness. Sometimes it’s struggling to get out of bed in the morning. Other times it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders and there’s nothing you can do to change it.”

           I saw this quote on a blog post from the Suicide Prevention Lifeline website and wanted to share. I am always open to listening and helping in any way that I can. Please reach out to those close to you or call a crisis hotline if you ever need help or feel like you’re struggling.

                                            (800)273-8255

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Sorry it’s long and that I jumped right into the big stuff, but I’ve been struggling with these feelings a lot lately. It feels good to write it down and put my feelings into words. I hope you enjoyed learning a lot about me very quickly LOL :