Hey. Hello. Sorry.
I haven’t posted for a long time, and today is the day that I tell myself to just write something, anything, to share it with the world and get back to the habit.
I didn’t stop writing. I made progress on my novel The Promises of the Wilderness and I kept a journal about things that are the most important to me. I had something that I really care about and wanted to share, but I put too much pressure on myself and my anxiety started to act up and I ended up not being able to do it.
I have done a lot in the past month. I read lots of books, went to a fascinating field school, and started a new relationship. I slept in and watched Netflix in a bathtub (don’t worry, there wasn’t any water) and took care of myself. I went to the pride parade and grew more comfortable in my identity. I went to the mall and got ice cream with my roommate and walked barefoot in the grass to watch the sky. I took sunset photos every day because often times we forget how beautiful the earth is, from pink to orange to purple to blue.
I write this blog post because it’s something I really like to do, and so many times I gave up (or worse, never started) things I love due to fear and anxiety, and this time I don’t want to.
It stormed several times the past week. Once when I was driving to a friend’s house, the rain was so heavy that I couldn’t see what was in front of me. I was frightened. Another afternoon, the thunder was roaring so angrily that even though I hid under the blankets in the bathtub, it haunted me until I was unable to breathe. Even narrow spaces were no longer safe enough. I’m writing this while listening to the fireworks that sound like bombs (I’m sorry but they do) and my anxiety is currently too much for me to watch fireworks.
I knew my fears are irrational. Anxiety is irrational.
But I safely arrived at my friend’s house and we had fun hanging out. My significant other supported me through the rough times and I did not have an anxiety attack. (In fact, I haven’t had an anxiety attack since February. It almost got me a few times, but I learned more about how to manage my anxiety and things that trigger me. When I saw it coming, I turned up my music and told myself to breathe and reached out to someone, and I got over it.) My roommate just made me hot tea. I ate two cinnamon sticks. My version is not blurry anymore and I write this blog post, even though my body is still shivering.
It got better, and it will get better. Not immediately, because everything is a process. But it does get better, I promise. There are no happy endings, only happy middles.
The sky was dyed from blue to pink from fireworks.
Happy Fourth of July!
I am grateful that I came to America. America isn’t perfect. I hesitate to say this, but it’s far from perfect. If you’re not white, male, straight, cisgender, Christian, upper-middle class, able-bodied, etc., life can be even more difficult. Terrible things are happening in detention camps (or concentration camps, as someone accurately describes). We’re allowed to be proud, but we’re also allowed to be angry. People told me that it’s not my country and thus not my place to judge. But my friends and my chosen family are here. I care deeply about this place, and I want to be a part of the change that makes it better.
Like many people in my generation, I want to change the world one day. Baby steps.
~ Ocean ~