Nostalgia

One of my favorite autumn views.

I’ve never been much of a nature girl.

My idea of nature is Central Park—that quintessential manmade hybrid of natural landscapes smack dab in the middle of the most heavily populated city in America. It has all the beautiful towering trees, animals, ponds, and flowers found in nature, but skyscrapers still peek beyond the trees, and cars still honk in the distance. It’s a hybrid that’s always brought me comfort and has allowed me to dip my toes into nature without jumping in headfirst. I’ve always enjoyed the balance of having one foot out—being surrounded by nature while simultaneously knowing that just in the distance my city awaits, whichever city that happens to be at the time.

Summer has always been my favorite. I’m probably biased because my birthday is in August, but growing up I’ve always adored the summer sun and heat and freedom from school. Autumn meant the end of all of those things, and so autumn always used to depress me.

In recent years, mainly since I’ve graduated college, I’ve learned to appreciate autumn like I never truly did in the past. Autumn has become a significant time for me, and it’s become a time of year I look back on with a sense of nostalgia.

Over the past few days, the temperatures have significantly dropped in my small town in Wisconsin. Amongst the numerous thunderstorms, the sun still shines, but there’s a crispness in the air that has replaced the summer humidity. My mornings are now spent with hot coffee and the coziest sweatshirt I can find. And since autumn is steadily approaching (whether I like it or not), I’ve felt even more nostalgic lately.

Today I took a walk through a nature path that I’ve walked probably hundreds of times over the past several years. It’s become one of my favorites because it’s right in my comfort level—that blend of nature within a small-town community, houses still visible through the trees. Throughout the years I was almost never without my headphones, but today I ventured on my walk without (mainly because my cat decided to destroy said headphones and I have not yet purchased a new pair; cats are the worst). Usually on my walks I was lost in Florence + The Machine songs, most often her first two albums, Lungs and Ceremonials. It always felt as if she’d written her songs for me, releasing a new album whenever I needed it, the songs ironically conveying exactly what I was experiencing in my life at the time.

As I walked the nature path sans music (and, therefore, sans distraction), I concentrated on my nostalgia and the memories of this path. Around this time throughout the past several years, I’ve walked with family members, dogs who have since passed away, and alone.

Even though autumn hits towards the end of the year, it still gives me a feeling of new beginnings. Not only does is harken back to my school and college days, but even after college graduation, many of my biggest life transitions have occurred right around this time. New jobs, moving halfway across the country to New Jersey, and new relationships (or breakups), have all happened as summer disappears and autumn is in the air.

For the first time in what feels like a long time, I’m walking this path at the end of the summer without a life transition ahead of me. While I have nothing in my immediate future to look to and wonder of its possibilities, as I walked along my favorite nature path, I nostalgically thought about my past and the transitions I’ve ventured through.

Over the years I have changed so much that I don’t recognize the girl I was in 2011. Sometimes I view that realization negatively, but today I don’t. I realize now that over the years I have experienced hardships, pain, and changes that I never could have imagined as a recent college graduate. And even though in my darkest times I thought these experiences had torn me down and weakened me, I realize today that they truly haven’t. I’m scarred, but I’m stronger now. I’ve proven to myself that no matter what I go through, I’m still here, and I’m capable of continuing to walk this path.

As the leaves are already changing (which for me feels far too early), I reminisce. I was a different girl walking this path years ago, but the path has not changed. I have a new perspective and am a new person, returning to a path that brings comfort because of its familiarity. A path that stays the same, no matter what I’ve done, who I’ve been, where I go, or how long I stay away. The path is always there, waiting for my return. It remains unchanging, and I’m grateful for that.

While summer is my favorite, I can’t knock the beauty of autumn leaves.

Advertisements

I don’t get personal on my blog anymore: Why?

Makeup free is the way to be (or at least it’s me 90% of the time).

I have been blogging on and off for six years now. Wow, just saying that blows my mind. Over the years, my blog has evolved with where I am in life. My blog doesn’t follow a theme. I never had an audience in mind when I started my blog. In fact, according to my first blog post ever, my blog was meant to be a place to house my poetry. Obviously that hasn’t quite been the focus of this blog, but I’m thankful to my past self for starting this blog in the first place.

There have been many twists and turns in my life over the past six years, and so, therefore, this blog has seen many twists and turns as well. Ups and downs, ever-changing and evolving interests and opinions, and questions I have asked myself.

As I grew more comfortable with blogging, it became somewhat of a more creative journal. I knew people would be reading my posts, but, to put it bluntly, sometimes I spilled my guts. While going through a painful breakup, I blogged about it. A lot. In fact, at one point I coined my blog “the breakup blog.” Funny? Yes. True? Eh, maybe at that time, also yes. But do I regret divulging so many personal details about my relationship and its demise? No. I don’t.

Why? Because at the time, I believe that was what I needed. I was an emotional wreck. I needed an outlet (a healthy one). And my blog was there. People who resonated with my words were there. Blogging my breakup at the time felt like another form of therapy (which also benefitted me greatly). At times I heard criticism that maybe I was sharing “too much.” And as a perfectionist, criticism sucks. But I realized that I blog for myself, and no one else. I was sharing with whoever stumbled across my blog what I felt comfortable sharing. Anyone who thought I was sharing “too much” didn’t have to be reading my words in the first place.

As time passed, I blogged less and less. I gave myself excuses. “I’m too busy,” “I’m too tired,” “I don’t know what to blog about.” I do believe those excuses were just that: excuses. I know why I wasn’t blogging. But I haven’t explicitly shared why.

When I made my return to my blog, I felt that therapeutic sense of release, as if I’d finally gone back to therapy after months of procrastinating to make an appointment. Now that I’m back, I have the chance to spill my guts once more. To divulge years’ worth of stories of my life and its ups and downs. To use my blog as therapy again.

But since I’ve returned, I’ve felt myself holding back. I write in coded language and cute, flowery phrases in order to disguise my true problems. I’m writing about my life without actually writing about my life. I write in vague sentences, writing without divulging too much information. I’m blogging without getting personal.

Why?

I believe I don’t get personal anymore because I feel ashamed of many of the things I desperately want to blog about. Getting personal would mean admitting things about myself I take blame for. It would mean owning up to things I’m still grappling with, things I still cannot accept, things I would feel judged for. Years ago, I didn’t feel this way when I blogged about my break up. Back then, I was able to separate myself from it. I understood that the breakup and the situation was not a reflection of myself as a person. I understood that it was simply something that happened to me, and wasn’t something for which I should be ashamed.

Now, I no longer have that mentality. I connect many of the situations I have found myself in to be a reflection of who I am. I judge myself for the downturns I’ve had throughout the last couple of years, and so I therefore assume I’ll be judged by others as well. I hold back. I’ve become guarded on my own blog, my own safe space to write whatever I want. I pay more attention to what others will think rather than how the blog has been here for me through so many other downturns in my life.

I don’t feel any sort of obligation to share everything about myself on my blog. However, my blog used to have an authenticity that only came from being unapologetically myself. Now, I feel like I’m putting up a wall. I’m sharing veiled details hidden behind clichés and analogies, pretending to use them for only creative purposes while in reality using them to write about my life without really writing anything at all.

Want me to get real? Real talk: I’m missing the Jersey shore right about now.

Over time I hope to be able to get real on my blog again. I want to take down that wall and be unapologetically myself, however that may be. Who knows what I’ll be sharing. I’ll still be blogging for myself. And I want to be myself, for myself.

Thinking too much

On a snowy day in Wisconsin, coffee is always a good decision I don’t have to think too much about. 

In my last blog post, I wrote about my epiphany that I’m holding myself back. I get in my own way. I self sabotage situations because I’m afraid of failure and the unknown. Now that I know this about myself, the next question I ask myself is: “How do I stop?”

So far, I don’t have a concrete answer. But what I do know is that sometimes I think too much. When I think too much, when I analyze situations too deeply, when I question myself and situations too much, I am more likely to self sabotage. When I think too much, self doubt creeps in.

I need to stop thinking too much. When I don’t question and just do, the possibilities are endless. Obviously sometimes we have to weigh the pros and make sure we’re not making dangerous decisions. But when I pause for too long, when I analyze the possible outcomes of a decision too much, I choose to stay frozen. I sabotage my own future.

I’ve noticed this with hobbies of mine. Blogging is a positive outlet. When I just blog and put my words out into the world, I see the benefits. It’s therapeutic. People read my words and can relate. I connect with other writers, read other people’s words and their words resonate with me as well. Yet when I think too much, I don’t blog. I abandon it, I question it, I feel self doubt about what I’m doing or why.

I started a YouTube channel. When I just film, edit, and upload, I feel a sense of satisfaction. The process of filming, editing, and uploading is fun (unless I have technological issues). However, when my analytical thoughts sneak up on me, I hold back. I procrastinate on filming or uploading videos, questioning why I’m even making videos in the first place. “It’s fun” should suffice. Yet when I think too much, I hold back.

While we do have to think things through to an extent to make sure we’re making healthy and safe decisions, sometimes thinking too much is more dangerous than just jumping into situations. When we think too much, we may miss out on opportunities. Connections with new people, cool jobs, new cities, hobbies that grow into careers.

Change is scary. Unknowns are scary because, duh, what if we fail? But failing doesn’t have to be negative. Sometimes failures can lead us to more self awareness. For me it has, even when I don’t realize it right away. In hindsight though, I can see my progress over time. I can see that through my failures, I’ve evolved as a person. But failures come from taking risks. We have to take those risks in the first place in order to fail (or succeed).

I think I have to stop thinking so much. Thinking too much is exhausting, and sometimes we have to just jump into the unknown, no matter how scary, not knowing the end result, because the end result could wind up being better than we expect it to be.

When perfectionism causes self sabotage: Getting in my way

What happens if I let go?

I’ve been self sabotaging for years. I realized this fact only recently.

I used to wonder why situations didn’t seem to “work out” or “fall into place.” Why was I constantly dissatisfied?

The answer: Me.

For years, I have been in my own way. I’ve found ways to sabotage those “what ifs” so that they never came to fruition. I’ve stood, unmoving, at the start of pathways, refusing to walk forward.

I’ve made choices knowing full well they were the wrong ones, going against the advice of therapists, family members, friends, and the healthy voice in my head.

Why? Why have I subconsciously chosen to remain stagnant in life? Why have I self sabotaged for so many years?

Because I’m a perfectionist. Because I’m terrified of change. Terrified of the unknown. Terrified of failing at unknown endeavors. If I don’t know if I can perfectly achieve something (even though the idea of “perfect” is relative, and, arguably, nonexistent), I choose not to attempt it. Sounds like a bad idea, right? It is.

But it’s safe. Sabotaging opportunities keeps me in a familiar place. Not taking risks saves me from those unknowns, from those potential failures. For years, I’ve subconsciously decided that it’s better to remain stagnant and not fail rather than take a risk and fail.

For the first time, I’m wondering if I still believe this.

I find myself daydreaming of other possibilities. Of those terrifying “what ifs.” Of not failing, but actually achieving opportunities and potential life paths.

For the first time, I’m wondering what could happen if I get out of my own way. What would happen if I let go of my perfectionism? What if I stopped self sabotaging? What if I let go of what’s keeping me protected from potential failures?

Letting go is scary. Stepping forward into unknown waters is a step I have hesitated to take. But to evolve as a person, isn’t it necessary?

Maybe it’s time I let go. Maybe it’s time I let go from the self sabotage that’s keeping me paralyzed, frozen in place. Maybe I should accept failing. Accept that unknowns aren’t always something to be feared. Unknowns can lead to positive experiences and possibilities. But I have to walk forward to find out.

Realizing that I self sabotage as a means of avoiding failure is a step forward in itself. Awareness is progress. But not only should I be aware of it: The trick now is to stop doing it.

For me, self sabotage has been a means of keeping me safe. While it’s a destructive technique of doing so, psychologically is does the job. It keeps me comfortable. Comfortable from those unknowns and potential failures. But as they say, sometimes you have to be uncomfortable with being uncomfortable until you’re comfortable.

I wonder if it’s time I start getting uncomfortable.

Losing the Dating Game: Revisited

Nearly three years ago I wrote a blog post about how I was losing the dating game. Update: Not much has changed.

I’m here, a few years older, and not much wiser. With another breakup under my belt, another existential “Who am I?” crisis at hand, sometimes I wonder when history will stop repeating itself.

I’m older, just as cynical (or, as I’d like to describe it, “realistic”), and still as lost as I was the last time I was losing this game. Back then I proudly took myself out of the game, ready to sit on the bench as long as I felt necessary.

This time around, I’m on the fence. I know I’m injured, I’m not a valuable team player, and the coach should really pull me from the starting lineup. But there’s still a part of me that wants to play.

So what does one do when she’s on the fence about sitting on the bench during the dating game?

She goes on Tinder, of course.

My main goal in entering the world of Tinder was to troll people. Mature, I know. Believe me, in the beginning it was hysterical.

Am I the only one who thinks “Please be fun” is a slightly obnoxious opening line?

Clearly GIFs are the name of the game for me on Tinder. The more annoying, the better for trolling.

I’m basically the definition of “mature.”

Guess that pickup line was a fail based solely on my GIF reaction.

But after a while, they started legitimately asking me on dates.

To which my reaction was:

Via: giphy.com

I never intended to date anyone who had the misfortune of stumbling across me and my barrage of unnecessary GIFs on Tinder. I honestly didn’t even realize that I’d encounter that situation. I thought none of them would take my immaturity seriously and that my tactic of trolling would be too obvious.

When I started receiving invitations for drinks (that always seems to be the popular go-to Tinder date), I realized the joke was over. I’d have to decide if I really wanted to date (not just people I met on Tinder but in real life as well) or run for the hills.

I chose to run for the hills.

Via: giphy.com

I realized that I wasn’t throwing myself into the dating game for the right reasons. I was hoping to compete against my last relationship, my former teammate and current opponent. I wanted to win, but I learned that I’m losing. My opponent, from what social media has shown me, is winning the game. His new girlfriend is treated to trips to D.C., NBA games, theatre shows, brewery tours, while I am finding the least awkward way to reject strangers on Tinder.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

While losing the dating game sucks, I’ve learned that I also shouldn’t throw myself into the game for the wrong reasons. If I have to sit on the bench while watching my opponent win, so be it. I have to heal from my injuries so that I can be a valuable player once again. Who knows how long that will take. Maybe my opponent will be 50 points ahead. But I should be playing for the right reasons, and winning for myself.

Me when I hopefully someday make a comeback to the dating game. Via: giphy.com

So for now, three years after I was losing the dating game, I’m still losing. Even though I want to play, I’m going to take myself out of the game and sit on the bench. Maybe that’s what I need. I’ll be back.

Via: giphy.com

What if you’re bullying…yourself?

Yoga plus a kitten is a good combination.

I got back into yoga for the first time in months just a few days ago. It was pretty amazing, I felt proud of myself, but I had a recurring thought throughout the whole thing:

“Dear God, why did I stop doing yoga in the first place if it makes me feel better?”

There have been some other good habits I’ve picked back up as well, and I keep asking myself that same question: “Why did I stop [healthy activity that makes me feel mentally better]?”

Over the last few days, I didn’t have a clear-cut answer to my question. I did have some vague hypotheses:

I lost interest in these activities?

I didn’t have the mental energy for these activities?

I forgot how much these activities helped me?

I do believe all of these possibilities could have played a role in why I stopped doing yoga and so many other good-for-mental-health activities. However, in my case, I believe it’s deeper than that: I stopped doing things that make me feel good mentally/emotionally because I am a bully. Against myself.

I realized recently that I’ve been a bully. And I’m finally owning up to it. I’m taking responsibility for my bullying ways.

I’ve gone through many times where I chose unhealthy coping skills instead of tried-and-true healthy ones. I’ve been involved in toxic, unhealthy relationships (and gotten myself back into those toxic, unhealthy relationships). I’ve engaged in negative self-talk that steadily increased in viciousness in recent years.

I’ve attempted to fight back against the bully. But at times, the bully was stronger.

It’s easier to cut ties with another entity who’s bullying you. You can put things in place to make sure the bully has a more difficult time reaching you.

But what do you do if you’re the one punching yourself in the face? The one hurling the threats? Ripping you apart? How do you fight against yourself?

I’ve learned that I have to think of the bully within me as a separate entity entirely. I have to separate the “healthy” me from the “bully” me. They’re not one in the same. One wants good things for my life; the other wants to kill me. Those are two oppositional forces. I have to choose which one to listen to.

You would think this decision would be simple, right? Why would I choose to listen to the bully? Why wouldn’t I just do things that make me feel better rather than continue doing things that make me feel worse?

That’s an excellent question. And it’s a question I don’t yet have the answer to. But it’s finally dawned on me that even though I’ve gone through times in my life when I’ve listened to the bully, my healthy voice is always there waiting for me to come back. My healthy coping skills are still there waiting for me, no matter how much time goes by.

Yoga is there.

Poetry is there.

Long walks are there.

Healthy people to talk to are there.

Music is there.

My blog is there.

No matter how much time I spend away from hobbies and activities that make me feel better because I’m too busy listening to the bully, I can always come back. I can always listen to my healthy voice again and learn to ignore the bully. It’s all a process. It takes years of practice. Slipups will happen. But that’s just a part of life.

Yoga with kittens is more fun than yoga not with kittens.

Why do I anthropomorphize my problems?

In one of my recent blog posts, I wrote about my demons. A couple comments acknowledged that I, like now, am preferring the word “demon” rather than speaking what is currently unnamed. And continuing to do so.

Why anthropomorphize my problems?

Via giphy.com

I have my reasons.

1. These blog posts are my selfish way of venting creatively while also keeping details, for the most part, a mystery.

2. Labeling my problems “demons” keeps my problems vague enough that I believe readers with various experiences could (hopefully/potentially) relate, since I’m not specifying what my problems are.

3. While a comment mentioned that the word “demons” was not always used to connote negative entities, in my blog post and according to our most current usages of the word, “demons” are negative entities usually out to destroy anything good in the world, and are the mystical, Biblical depiction of evil. For me and the problems I have, this depiction couldn’t be more fitting. Thus, I ran with it (and from the demons). See, there I go again.

Via giphy.com

So those are my main reasons for why I chose to anthropomorphize my problems as “demons,” because it was a conscious decision I thought through before even writing the post. However, one comment addressed a point that I can’t argue with:

“Hmmm… I have to say that I don’t think anthropomorphising your problems is going to help. They’re not demons (demons are just mythical creatures) they’re bad things that happened.”

And to that I say, you’re exactly right.

Via giphy.com

Does calling my problems “demons” help? No.

Via giphy.com

Could it potentially make the problem worse? Oh, most definitely.

Via giphy.com

And that’s the whole point.

In my blog post, I describe that I’m running from my problems (“demons”). Since I’m calling them “demons” and not by their name, and I’m running from them, at this point I haven’t faced them yet. Am I helping myself by continuing to not face my demons and continue to refer to them as “demons”? Not at all. Which is part of my problem.

If anyone can relate to having a problem needing to be addressed and worked through, many of us may encounter a feeling of denial or refusal in wanting to address the problem. Addressing there is a problem is sometimes just as difficult as living with the problem. Addressing the problem means you have to fight to fix the problem. Change is never easy, especially if your problem involves habits or negative thought patterns you’ve been engaged with for months, years, or decades. As they say, “Old habits die hard,” and if that phrase wasn’t written for me, then…no, it was written for me, actually. Google it.

Via giphy.com

I don’t think referring to my problems as “demons” does me any good in the end, that is, essentially, the point. I haven’t yet conquered my problems (“demons”), so I’m not at the stage to speak their names.

I’m running, and hopefully I’ll stop dead in my tracks soon, turn around, and face these demons. And for now, I’m still calling them “demons.”

Demi Lovato: Why her story is important

Photo credit: YouTube.com

Pop singer Demi Lovato’s documentary Simply Complicated was released on YouTube on October 17th. While she’s been open about her drug and alcohol addictions and eating disorder in the past, this doc provides a more detailed timeline of Demi’s journey from addiction to recovery to relapse and back to recovery once more.

Photo credit: Directlyrics.com

This documentary is unapologetic, raw, and in-your-face. It has some eerie similarities to director Asif Kapadia’s brilliant 2016 Best Documentary Feature, Amy, which documents the life and tragic death of British singer Amy Winehouse.

Ironically, in Simply Complicated, Demi references Winehouse as someone she idolized growing up. In a journey back to Demi’s house, she shows a poster she’d made as a child that she kept in her closet, plastered with photos of celebrities she wanted to look like. There, among the models and skinny celebrities, was Winehouse, most likely in the depths of drug and alcohol addiction and bulimia, which she was mocked for in the media until the day she died.

Photo credit: Pinterest.com

The difference with this doc? Well, to put it bluntly, the addiction sufferer survived. In Simply Complicated, Demi acknowledges that while she is clean from drugs and alcohol, she does still struggle with eating disorder behaviors, and that it will be something she most likely will struggle with for the rest of her life. However, even though she may have her setbacks, this documentary has a completely different outcome and tone than Amy did, mainly because Demi is speaking from a place of recovery while Winehouse is no longer here to tell her story because her addictions killed her.

Demi has not only been vocal for years about her struggles with addiction, mental illness, and recovery. She also has stated her awareness of the life-and-death nature of these addictions. But her story has not ended the way Amy’s did. Demi has come away from her addictions through recovery and publicly advocating for mental illness treatment, awareness, and erasing the stigma behind it.

Photo credit: Vulture.com

Whether you’re a fan of her music or not, whether you even know who Demi is or not, her story matters. This documentary matters. Why?

It matters because Demi is sharing her struggles with mental illness in a world where mental illness is still stigmatized.

It matters because roughly half of those struggling with mental illness are not currently receiving treatment. 

It matters because while eating disorders (specifically anorexia) are the most lethal of all psychiatric illnesses, there is a severe lack of funding allocated to research.

It matters because celebrities are viewed as being “immune” to mental illness and shamed for suffering, seeking treatment, or dying by suicide. 

Example of mental illness stigma perpetuated on Facebook.

If you look at any article or social media post with news of a celebrity dying by suicide or opening up about his/her mental illness struggles, you will find a heaping pile of comments perpetuating myths surrounding basic psychology. Some classic myths or statements of victim-blaming represented in comment threads include:

“You’re rich, so you have nothing to be depressed about!”

“You’re rich, so you can afford treatment!”

Victim-blaming in action.

“You’re doing this for attention because no one cares about you anymore!”

“There are poor people in the world who have REAL problems!”

A meme attempting to crack jokes about mental illness and perpetuate the stigma. Classy. Photo credit: Instagram.com.

“So selfish to leave your family all alone!”

Victim blaming seems quite popular on social media.

Or, the ever popular favorite:

“Mental illness doesn’t even EXIST. Just smile and get over it!”

Someone attempting to “spread the message of veganism” by stating that mental illness doesn’t exist and shaming sufferers. Makes perfect sense. Photo credit: Instagram.com.

Demi is viewed by many as a hero. Why? Because she speaks out in a world that either misunderstands, demonizes, or attempts to silence those suffering from mental illness. She speaks out without editing herself. She speaks not only of her addictions and recovery, but also of her slipups. By doing so, especially with the release of this documentary, Demi is not only helping raise awareness for those who need to be educated on mental illness; she’s also giving a realistic and honest representation of what addiction, recovery, and relapse look like, while still showing why she continues to work towards recovery.

This documentary is a brave move, and one Demi should be commended for. For years she has been vocal, blunt, and unapologetically honest about her struggles, and this is the type of voice necessary for raising awareness and slowly erasing mental illness stigma. Those uneducated need to not only be educated; people suffering from mental illness also need to be prepared for recovery, relapses, and understand that recovery is something necessary for survival.

Erasing the stigma surrounding mental illness is a slow, long process. Documentaries like Amy and Simply Complicated have been bold moves towards erasing that stigma. Demi’s leadership in advocating for mental illness awareness is so necessary, and hopefully in the coming years, she will inspire more voices to speak out.

Watch the documentary on YouTube.

 

How long can we run from our demons before they catch us?

I’m at the point in my life where it’s nearing time for an exorcism.

Think this angel will chase away my demons?

I have some demons haunting me, and I’m experiencing one of those breakthrough, “How did I let this happen?” moments.

My demons control my entire life. It’s taken me years to realize it.

The first time I realized I was ruled by my demons was when I thought to myself, “I don’t blog anymore.” My creativity, hobbies, and interests disappeared.

It got to the point where I’d longingly look back on myself as who I “used” to be. I “used” to listen to that music, I “used” to write poetry, I “used” to watch movies, I “used” to blog. Every one of the aspects that made me “me” became past tense.

Out of desperation, I started to run.

I’ve been running from my demons longer than I care to admit. But over time, my demons have multiplied, feeding off one another, gaining strength, and, in the process, weakening me.

The first demons I encountered were sinister, and I hid them from everyone around me, but I was still capable of acknowledging them within myself. In public, I was all smiles, laughs, and “everything is always fine.” In private, I allowed myself to acknowledge the demons, interact with them, speak with them.

Now, I don’t even allow myself to notice my demons in private. I’ve come up with the brilliant method of repress, repress, repress, ignore, ignore, ignore. But my demons don’t appreciate this. They still make their appearances.

Once in a while I see them staring me in the face when I look in the mirror. Just when I thought I’d forgotten all about them I say, “Oh, there you are.” My demons refuse to be ignored.

Over the years, my demons have morphed into beasts, and I’ve developed the habit of running from them. But not without attempts at an exorcism.

Before they multiplied and started feeding on my flesh, I tried. I followed every step of the How-To-Get-Rid-Of-Demons handbook: Counseling, meetings with other various healthcare professionals, ridding myself of toxic/triggering people from my life, journaling, challenging negative thoughts, yoga, time outside, socializing, medications, changing my environment. But my demons refused to let go. They were around every corner, laughing, taunting.

So I ran. Against the advice from professionals and others around me, I ran. I ran from my demons. But my demons followed me to New Jersey.

I found distractions though. Trips to Manhattan, the Shore, and other adventures distracted me from my demons floating around me. However, in hindsight, I realize that no matter how distracted I may have been, my demons were always there.

They were with me when I first set foot in New Brunswick.

Church in New Brunswick.

They were with me on my walks around the neighborhood.

Building on the Rutgers University campus.

They were with me on the train to Midtown.

At the train station to attend the Women’s March in Manhattan.

 

They were with me on my strolls through Central Park.

Central Park in autumn.

They were with me in Ocean City while I watched the sunset at the beach.

Ocean City at sunset.

They were with me on a rainy day in Hoboken.

Wandering through Hoboken.

They were with me when I and thousands of others marched down Fifth Ave for the Women’s March.

Participating in the Women’s March in Manhattan.

They were with me when I looked out at the NYC skyline on a chilly April night thinking, “God I love this city.”

View of the Empire State Building from the 230 Fifth rooftop bar. Photo credit: Rikki Helvey.

They were with me when I made the decision to return to Wisconsin, the place I thought I’d forever “escaped.”

But now I realize that it wasn’t Wisconsin I was running from. I was running from my demons. And the demons hadn’t stayed in Wisconsin. They came with me to New Jersey, and followed me back to Wisconsin.

I realize now that no matter where I run, my demons will follow.

I’m approaching that pivotal moment where I realize I have two options: run or exorcise my demons. There are no other options.

If I don’t perform an exorcism, what happens?

My demons will continue to lurk. There is no escaping them. Maybe I’ll run to New York, or Chicago, but my demons will follow me.

The thing about demons is that you can’t run from them forever.

No matter what kind of demon you have, whether it’s dealing with a breakup, trauma from past sexual/physical/emotional abuse, drug or alcohol addiction, depression, bipolar, anxiety, an eating disorder, a combination of all of the above or something else, you can’t outrun any of your demons.

How long can we run from our demons? The answer is that it depends on the person. Some may not be able to run for more than a few days. Some will run for months, years, or even decades.

But the most sinister thing about our demons is that we all face the same answer to the question “What happens when our demons catch us?”

They kill us.

To be both blunt and honest with myself and anyone else currently haunted by a demon, our demons are chasing us in order to kill us. While running, we may be just out of their grasp, but once they catch us, it’s all over.

Demons quite literally are creatures from the depths of Hell. Once they start chasing us, they attempt to destroy us in every way possible. Psychologically, physically, mentally, emotionally, financially, socially. Demons feed off of us and aren’t fully satisfied until we’re dead. That is their main goal.

For now, I’m still running. I even ran away from this blog post for a while before finishing it. Hopefully, sooner rather than later, I’ll perform an exorcism. Most likely it won’t rid me of my demons forever. They may be scared away for a few months, or maybe even a few years. But they’ll try to return, I’m sure.

Sometimes I wonder if I (and others still running from their demons) have a death wish. And maybe we do. But sometimes we see the light and realize we still have the strength to chase our demons away.

Every day is a battle, and I have to keep reminding myself of that. We all have to make the decision to run or fight. Some days are easier than others. But each day is a new opportunity to battle against our demons. When one day we have a death wish, the next day we may feel like we want to exorcise our demons from our lives.

I’ll keep that in mind while I run.

 

 

 

Autumn’s got me daydreaming

Here in Wisconsin, autumn is in full-force. The temperatures have dipped, the sun shines a bit dimmer and sinks earlier than we’re used to, and most mornings call for a cozy sweatshirt and cup of pumpkin or mint-flavored coffee (or any other autumn-inspired beverage).

A hot caramel macchiato on a cold Wisconsin autumn day.

As a lover of summer and all that it brings, autumn in Wisconsin usually has me daydreaming for a bit more sunshine, more 80-degree days, and maybe a new adventure altogether. While drinking coffee with hazelnut coffee creamer (because I’m the type of girl who loves creamer more than the actual coffee), my mind usually wanders to my next adventure.

Usually with daydreams, it’s go big or go home. Why would our brains limit us when the possibilities are endless in our dreams? The thrill behind daydreams is to dream up the “what ifs.”

What if you had an extra $10,000 to spend on your dream trip? Places like Earnest make fulfilling your dreams possible with low-interest personal loans to assist you in making those dreams a reality.

For me, I’ve been dreaming of taking a trip back to the East Coast. After my move from New Jersey back to Wisconsin, I’ve already felt the itch to return to New York. As a millennial who embraces technology, there are so many options that make traveling more affordable and easier than it’s ever been.

Autumn is ideal for a trip to NYC. Southwest offers cheap flights, so I’d hop on a plane from the Milwaukee to LaGuardia airport.

One of the coolest recent technological advancements is Airbnb, an app on your phone where you can browse and book stays in rooms, apartments, or houses for your trips. Communication with the host of your accommodation is done through the app, and prices can often be more affordable than you’d find for traditional hotels. Airbnb can be a great option not only if you’re looking to save money, but also if you’re looking for a more unique travel experience.

My Airbnb would be close to one of my favorite places in Manhattan: Central Park. I love the blend of city and nature, the ponds throughout the park, and it’s perfect for people-watching.

Central Park in panorama.

After a walk through Central Park, it’s only natural that I’d need some pizza to satisfy my hunger. Luckily New York is a place where I have many options for a slice at $1 a pop (or $3 if I wanted to splurge). Then I’d venture down to the perfect place for me: a dessert shop called Becky Bites NYC. Of course, why wouldn’t I go there? Founder of the shop, Becky Rosenthal, has created a heavenly place with cream-cheese inspired treats that are just too good to pass up.
My sweet tooth satisfied, and with my extra travel money still burning holes in my pockets, shopping seems like an obvious way to spend part of my day in the city. The largest department store in the world, Macy’s Herald Square, seems like a wise choice. But I wouldn’t be shopping just for the sake of shopping: I’d be on the hunt for the perfect dress for a night out in Manhattan.

After finding the winning dress, my day in the city wouldn’t be complete without some spectacular views. So I’d head over to 230 Fifth, a heated rooftop bar with a view that’ll blow you away. I’d make sure to make it to the rooftop early enough to see the sunset over the beautiful city. 

The view from the 230 Fifth rooftop bar. Photo credit: Rikki Helvey.

Running around Manhattan all day gives you an appetite, so I’m sure while I’m soaking in the view, I’d have to enjoy one of the options from the bar’s food menu. As a vegetarian, sometimes my options at restaurants can be limited, and sometimes limited to only items from the appetizer menu. But at 230 Fifth, the vegetarian ravioli or Asian vegetarian noodles would be perfect entrees for me (mainly because I’m forever obsessed with pasta).

Nighttime calls for something I haven’t done in NYC since I was 13: seeing a Broadway show. With shows like Anastasia, Wicked, and Hamilton onstage currently, you can’t go wrong. There’s just something magical about Broadway.

My night complete, I’d return to my Airbnb to sleep off the event-filled day I’d had, and definitely sleep in. My second day would involve plenty of museums, which is always one of my favorite things to do whenever I travel. The Museum of Natural History is one of my favorites, so I’d start there, but I’d want to venture out and explore museums I haven’t seen yet, like the Met and the Guggenheim.

American Museum of Natural History.

Of course throughout the day I’d indulge in some mandatory NYC bagels, and probably more pizza. In a city like New York, your food options are basically endless. Foods like bagels and pizza are not only delicious–they’re also convenient for when you’re on the go, which is a given if you’re in New York. After all the running around, I’d go back to my Airbnb earlier and relax for the night.

On my last full day in NYC, I’d take a walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, another one of my favorite New York sights.

The view from the Brooklyn Bridge.

I’d make sure to bring a good book and find a bench in Brooklyn Bridge Park, which offers beautiful views of the Lower Manhattan skyline.

View of Lower Manhattan from Brooklyn Bridge Park.

The next day I’d fly back to Wisconsin, promising that I’ll return to New York as soon as I could (which would be feasible with the leftover money from the extra $10,000 to go towards the trip). No matter how many times I visit New York, I’m already planning what I’ll see next time I’m there. For now, I’ll keep dreaming.

If you had $10,000 to put towards your dream trip, where would you go?