Together We Will Live Forever

Today was an interesting day. I went to work for a relatively short shift and managed not to blow all my money in one sitting. I came home, enjoyed lunched. Cleaned up, watched The Office, etc etc etc… And then I found something on Facebook. In a nutshell, instead of being buried in a stainless steel coffin, your corpse would be placed in the fetal position in a pod and buried with a sapling of a particular tree of your choice. The tree would grow, nurtured by the nutrients from your body. The project was started in Italy and hasn’t really happened yet. But the concept got me thinking about “green” death. I followed a few links and ended up watching a documentary on the subject. It was emotional and it sorta resonated with me in ways I hadn’t experienced in a while.

I was thinking about my death.

How odd. At first I was devastated. For those of you who don’t know, I’m planning on living forever, beyond the end of time itself. That said, if I can’t achieve immortality by then, I expected to be buried the way everyone else seems to; pumped full of formaldehyde and dropped 6 feet into the earth. And lately I’ve been coming across other forms of dealing with my remains; be that memorial diamond or cremation or green burial. I’ve decided upon a few things:

I wish to be buried in a field or forest beneath a sapling so that my body will fuel the tree. I demand that everyone wear bright spring colors to my funeral. No one is allowed to wear black. As I’m being lowered into the ground, I want to have Eric Whitacre’s Sleep sing me away. And then I want everyone to go have fun. Party, whatever. Happiness must abound everywhere.

I realize this is some heavy stuff to tell the internet. So let me now share my opinion of death:

It sucks.

Okay, to elaborate: I do not believe death is natural. I find it very un-natural. It is the antithesis of natural, in fact. The evolutionary pattern we’ve been on for millennia has proved we are fighters. We want to live. We reproduce because we have failed to achieve immortality. Our bodies aren’t built to survive forever. That doesn’t mean it’s normal or natural. And reproducing is great because then we have kids and families, and so on. I get that. I’m not saying we shouldn’t reproduce or anything.  What I am saying, is that we have no reason to not live forever, or at the very least, indefinitely.

That said, our bodies haven’t caught up to this mentality. This means that our bodies will eventually fail us. I personally believe in the immortal soul; the concept of a spirit version of ourselves that will exist even after our bodies die. Whether or not we turn into energy and scatter around the universe, remain individuals locked in a limbo-like dimension, transcend to a new form of living, I don’t know. I really don’t. I mean, I have faith that we are immortal, spiritually. But I can’t provide you with any proof. Not by myself. So, say our bodies fail us and we die. Any number of things could happen to our consciousnesses after that. So, why not prepare for any and every eventuality? Plant a tree over my grave so I can become one with the tree and build a treehouse in my branches. Compound part of me into a diamond to keep me unaging and physically indestructible forever. Do what needs doing. I will exist, always and forever. In this form or the next. And if I will, you will.

Together we will live forever.

Cooking With Tay (AKA Learning Lessons The Hard Way)

WARNING: This post may contain obscene gestures and profane language. Readers under the age of 14 are advised to leave.

So, you’re staying, eh? Well, I can’t stop you. Yet.

Among the few skills and talents I posses, cooking is one of them. Assuming, of course, that the moon is in Waning Gibbous, I’m single, God in His infinite mercy is looking down upon me, the local pagans aren’t casting their freaky voodoo*, and my astrology results say so. Tonight was not one of those times. The stars were un-aligned and the ensuing debacle – a sudden and ignominious failure, as it were – caused me such despair that I felt I might as well have cooked up a lump of fecal savagery. Needless to say, I was distraught. It needn’t be said.

The evening started off well; optimism flaring out of me the sun’s sensual radiance, stomach excitedly gurgling like an alligator trying to intimidate the baby bunny dangling from a branch it was accidentally dropped on to by the drunk hawk that snatched it up in the first place. I wandered down the stairs and charged into the kitchen, bringing my phone with me to record the marvelous feat I was about to commence.

Oh, dear, I thought as I opened the cupboards. There isn’t any bread. Or soups. Or other common household things we Americans find in our panties pantries. I simply must use whatever I can lay my perfectly manicured hands on. (Thanks Gage)

Here’s what I found:

  • A mini-orange
  • A white grapefruit
  • An apple
  • Honey
  • Cinnamon
  • Maple Syrup
  • Maple-flavored frosting
  • Salt

What a list! I attempted to cut up the grapefruit with the intention of making a sour-sweet fruit salad and ended up grinding the poor thing to a pulp. Literally. So the juice and pulp went into a bowl. I thought, no big deal. I still have the mini orange! I proceeded to peel and separate each of the carpels with juicy vesicles. I dropped them into the grapefruit pulp-juice and then added honey, maple syrup, and cinnamon (I didn’t have real sugar to sweeten this). It was at this time that I discovered a package of ramen noodles and decided, Hey! I can use the citrus soup to make some kind of citrus broth for my noodles!

Here is the result of that thinking:

Oh mercy. What have I done?!
Oh mercy. What have I done?!

It seemed harmless enough. It didn’t smell too bad. So I did what anyone thinking logically would have done. What? Throw it away? Pffft! Don’t be silly. I stuck it in the microwave.

Somebody! Anybody? Stop me! PUT AN END TO THE MADNESS!
Somebody! Anybody? Stop me! PUT AN END TO THE MADNESS!
TA-DAAA! DEATH IN A BOWL!
TA-DAAA! DEATH IN A BOWL!

After two minutes of cooking, I thought, that’s good enough! I pulled it out. The odor was like some kind of gas from the butthole of Satan. I was thinking, I’ve had worse! And I am reeeeeally hungry. Surely you can’t be that bad.

YES IT CAN! (and don’t call me Shirley)

I SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN CHURCH! I'M GOING TO DIE A SINNER!
I SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN CHURCH! I’M GOING TO DIE A SINNER!

Ahem…

I mean... Mmmmmm....
I mean… Mmmmmm….

So I proceed to devour half of this bowl of noodle-y butt venom. It doesn’t taste horrible. Every now and then I get spikes of bitter from the grapefruit so it kept things interesting. The noodles were super elasticized and rubbery so they were flopping all over the place like a limp duck… DUCK, you perves. As you can imagine, rubbery, elastic-y noodles and citrus juice can make for some pretty hilarious shenanigans. Unfortunately for me, the debauchery that unfolded happened to MY EYE.

GAH! SONOFAB*TCH!
GAH! SONOFAB*TCH!

After struggling to eat this heaping, steaming, reeking pile of dysentery** in a bowl, I decided enough was enough and to hell with the starving children around the world trying to guilt trip me into eating what would come to erode through our pipes and destroy our plumbing***.

Be gone, you foul, loathsome, whore of putrescence and abominations!
Be gone, you foul, loathsome, whore of putrescence and abominations!

After this mind-numbing meal vacated our home, I decided to eat the apple. But why stop there?! I had failed once to make something unique. Surely it couldn’t happen a second time.

I sliced up the apple, threw nearly a pound (nearly 0st 1.0000 stone) of cinnamon on it, added a little water and two heaping tablespoons of maple frosting, and tossed all of it into a blender.

Tantalizing, isn't it?
Tantalizing, isn’t it?

After creating what I can safely describe as “blender defecation” that had an delicious aroma, I poured them into cups.

mmmm....
mmmm….
Evenly poured. #boss
Evenly poured. #boss

It was warm, so I wanted to chill it. My stomach started roaring, begging for food. I went out to the garage fridge (we’re fancy and we have two empty fridges) and put these two cups in the freezer to chill. And look what happened.

Here you go, little guys...
Here you go, little guys…
Wait.... Wait... What are...? WAFFLES?
Wait…. Wait… What are…? WAFFLES?

…..

...

DOO-DOO-DOO-DA-DOO-DOOOO. THAT’S TAY! Oooo-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho.

This is why you love me!
This is why you love me!

* I’m educated enough to know the difference between Pagans and Voodoo. Just enjoy the absurdity.

** Because SCREW grammar

*** It wasn’t that bad. It just was high in acidity.


PS. Going to bed hungry isn’t all that bad. Except I have to work in the early morning and don’t have any food for breakfast because I butchered what little fruit we had.

PPS. OMG. WAIT. WE HAVE WAFFLES!

On Being Single

Being single is arguably one of the most liberating things ever. You don’t have to answer to anyone but yourself. You can fart in your own home without having to blame it on the animals. You get to gorge on all your favorite stuff without having to filter any of it out for your lover. You’re free!

But you’re also alone.

It’s hard. Your ex-S.O. is moving on, already in a relationship before you. Oh hey. Mine’s been in two! Yeah. Not that I can really talk. My relationships typically last under 8 months and I have a five month grieving period before I pick the next model off the shelf and give a whirl. But such is life. I fell madly, deeply, passionately in love for the first time three years ago, but it made me insane-r than I already was. I dated a prison guard. That was pretty cool, but short. This last one, I was so ready to settle down and make it work. I was the only one willing to do that though. So now I’m here, alone.

If you look around on various popular dating sites, you might find an old (and less old) profile of mine just floating around. One such site has offered some in-depth looks at my personal character and the type of person I need. A slave to my emotions, I normally fill out these forms in whatever way suits my mood. But today is different. I’m tired, I’m honest, I’m lonely. So I started to fill out the first form it offered me. It had a hundred questions and whatnot. The results were exactly what defines me as a person, which isn’t terribly astounding because I answered every question with the most brutal honesty I could muster. What they told me about myself, however, was beyond enlightening. I then proceeded with form number two. By this time, I felt emotionally exhausted from all of this deep soul diving.

As I read the results, I started to cry. Okay. More like, I felt like crying, but didn’t because my tear ducts don’t work anymore.

The first test listed the traits that I had and warned me of traits that I possessed that weren’t healthy. The second told me of the type of person I actually wanted, as opposed to what I thought I wanted. This second list told me not only who I wanted to date, but the kind of person I wanted to be. The first list told me what I needed to fix to get that way. It was profound. I have a lot of work to do before I’m ready to date seriously again. I didn’t actually realize how damaged I am from my past relationships, how they’ve all carried over into my current ones. I’ve never noticed how they have both completely crushed my self-esteem and given me knew and revitalized esteem. Of self. My it’s late.

Being single is possibly the worst thing in the world and while I am certainly grateful for the time off and the time I have to repair my sad, damaged heart, I can’t wait for this dry spell to be over. I can’t wait until I’m with the One. Holding hands, laughing, playing pranks on each other, exercising together, spending time apart from each other just so that when we’re reunited we get all excited and goofy. It’s a long journey, but it’s worth the wait.

To my future partner (in crime and love), I love you. I can’t wait to meet you. I hope you sleep well and dream big.

Goodnight.

What Can You Do?

What can you do?

This question haunts me. My reflection often looks back at me and says “Come on Tay. What can you do?”

First, what does that even mean? “What can you do?” asks what you think you’re capable of. It asks what you think your limits are. It makes you examine yourself. How far are you willing to go to accomplish your dreams? What are you willing to give up to get what you want? You take those hard, but necessary steps in the hopes that you’ll reach your destination in one piece. In a few weeks, months, or years, you make it to the top, your goal is achieved. Congratulations! One down, infinity to go.

What can you do? Let me rephrase that… What do you think you can do? What evidence do you have that you can make these dreams come true? What do you see yourself doing? Can you make it up the mountain? Can you take your time? Can you quit? What options do you have while you are on this journey? Flexibility is always good, but I would caution against being too flexible. Don’t let yourself lose sight of that aspiration that started you on your mighty quest!

Go ahead and think back to the goals you’ve missed for a moment. Yeah, I’m sure that list sucks. I look at New Years Resolutions and slap the palm of my hand right smack-dab in the middle of my face. I look at some of the writing goals I had. I was supposed to have at least 3 novels done already. Don’t even get me started on how long it’s taking to get my first movie done. So yeah. That all sucks.

Now stop. Stop thinking that right now. Do whatever you have to do to stop thinking that. Okay? You had your Debbie Downer moment, and now it’s time to have your Happy Harry moment. Or hour. Or day.

Think about all the things you’ve accomplished in your life. And yes. You’ve accomplished way more than you realize. Me? Well, for starters, I assembled a cast and crew and started shooting my very first short film on a professional level! My friend and I have published not one, but two short stories in the last couple years! My bouts of anxiety are getting shorter! I have recognized what foods make me healthier and happier! I have had a healthy relationship that, even though it didn’t last, gave me so much information about myself as a person, as a boyfriend, and as a Tay! These are only a few. I’m not even close to scratching the surface of the things I’ve done in my life. What? Those are real accomplishments. You should have seen me last year. Or the year before. Or the year before that! I was a disaster. I’m still healing from my years of stupidity, but dang it, I’m better than I was yesterday. So what about you? What have you done? Don’t say nothing because you’re lying and we both know it. You’ve read this far into my blog. That, believe it or not, is an accomplishment.

Don’t stop thinking about your successes, but start adding to them future successes. I will own my own company. I will be financially independent. I will run my own charity. I will be a healthy weight. I will figure out a cure for hyperhydrosis. I will find out how to overcome my serious addiction to goldfish crackers. I’m tellin’ yah, I got some real massive goals here.

So, in relation to my future goals, what can I do? I can stop eating so many freakin’ goldfish. I can further my studies in business and charity organizations. I can start dieting and working out more. I can try a new antiperspirant. I can wake up every morning and run through what I’m grateful for. I can make a short list of at least 10 of my most recent successes while I brush my teeth, and that’s with a groggy “I just woke up” mind. I can envision what I want to happen and feel what I want to happen in the day(s) to come.
What can I do? I can push. I can run. I can work harder, work myself to the bone. I can scrape myself up and put myself back on the path. I can discipline myself. I can educate myself. I can trust myself. I can be a better Tay today than I was yesterday. What can I do? What can you do?

Take a look at everything I’ve listed above. Think about yourself for a minute, about your goals, your dreams, the things you’ve already accomplished. Think about the friends you’ve made, the lives you’ve impacted. Think about all of this and then you’ll start to ask yourself the right question. You’re going to ask yourself:

“What CAN’T I do?”

On Writing: Multiple Stories

Wielding the attention span of a chicken, I sat down and looked through my files. Lo and behold, I have come up with a thousand stories. I couldn’t honestly tell you the exact number due to the amount of lost data, hidden data, and so on. All I can say is that I am almost certain I have at least come up with nearly a hundred individual stories (even if some of them ended up fusing together or inspiring one another). Over the years, I’ve honed my interests. Eventually, I will hone my craft.

Writing is hard, but focusing is harder. When I have an idea, I feel compelled to write it down before I forget it. Unfortunately, once I start writing it down, I can’t stop until I get the next idea. It’s very disconcerting.

I’m focusing, now. Attempting to align my stories in a way where (should I be absolutely unable to move forward in one), I can hop over to another and meet a certain goal. Five thousand words, a chapter, or some other goal or deadline is placed when I begin and I am not allowed to transfer from one place to another without meeting that goal. It’s exciting. But it’s late. We’ll update this later. Goodnight, my loves.

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!

Having been single on almost every single Valentines day ever, I surprise myself by saying that it’s one of my favorite holidays. An entire day devoted to reminding yourself of the importance of love. I personally think that love is the greatest thing in the universe and that it deserves its own holiday.

That said, it sucks not getting anything on Valentines Day. That’s why I’m extremely grateful to the person who bought me a rose, a box of red velvet cake-flavored chocolates, a singing pug-themed Valentine’s Day card, and a balloon. The balloon was heart shaped and is not in the picture above because at night it moves around and makes a scary shadow and bumps into things making me thing there is an intruder. I’ve hidden the balloon and only bring out during the daylight hours.

Let me tell you how special I feel, receiving something on Valentine’s Day, even when I’m single…

It makes me feel this special. Or in other words, quite. I feel bad being poor sometimes because I can’t go out and get you flowers, or take you to dinner, or buy something to show you how much I care. I know there are other ways to show you, so that’s what I’ll try to do. Thank you for making every holiday special, even when you don’t have to.

What kinds of things did you do today? Did you hang out with you S.O.? Did you make your single friends feel better? Did you run over all the happy couples in your imaginary bus? Comment below, let me know.

Goodnight everyone. Remember: I love you all!

What Goes Down Must Come Up!

Somewhere in high school, I obtained this strange notion that “no one loved me” and that “I didn’t deserve love” and so on. These small feelings grew and consumed me. Much of my teen years were spent lost in doodling and drawing comics to avoid the pain of reality. As I matured into an adult, these feelings were only magnified. Who was I? Where am I going? What am I doing with myself? Life now stood before me and I was unprepared to take it by storm. Why? Because I had locked it out of my mind during my teen years.

So, what brings this up Taydebear?” you ask. Well, dearest reader, allow me to tell you:

Tonight I was a jerk. I am frequently inconsiderate, but not as bad as I was tonight. Wielding the personality of a turd, I refused to become uplifted by the kindness and generosity of a dear friend. Why? Because I’m stressed. What does that have to do with anything? Everything. Like the Fairies of Neverland, I’m so small that I can only feel one emotion at a time. When I feel it, it’s all consuming. Be this joy, pain, love, hate, or (like it has been for the last two months) STRESS. Stress. What a nasty word. I won’t go into what I did exactly, but let me tell you this: I was mean, downright rude, and inconsiderate to a person who has literally done me no wrong since the moment I met him. I cannot think of a time where he has done anything deliberately or otherwise to hurt or offend me, despite the countless times I have done so to him. I realized this at dinner, which is why I didn’t order anything. I was afraid that if I allowed myself to enjoy the kindness he was offering, I would lose it.

He dropped me off after a painfully long and silent car ride, during which I wanted to scream at him: “I’M SORRY! I’M BEING A DINGUS!” But alas, no such words escaped my gaping noise void. If they had, I would have unleashed all the emotional stress I had been building up over the last two to three months. We pulled up to my house and I got out with a quick “Goodnight” and walked around to the back of the house. I hadn’t even gone through the back gate before I started to feel overwhelmingly sad. I spent the next half hour bawling my eyes out behind my house. I fell into a dark place that I haven’t been in in several years. It was so real, so unnerving. My dad found me and we hugged. He, my mom, and I all sat down in their room and talked long and hard about what I’m dealing with.

I told them my worries, my griefs, and my pains. After I got it all out, they offered comfort, tough love, and genuine compassion. They assured me that they weren’t going anywhere, that they’d help me through whatever this nonsense is. My goal to move out is still soon, but maybe not so far as originally intended. We are doing this as a team. Those are my parents. They love their children unconditionally. They give and give and give, hoping to help me grow. They may not have done a perfect job, but they did all they could, and by golly… It’s enough for me.

As to the man I spoke of earlier. I did text him back and apologize. Profusely. And while I feel he has forgiven most of my stupidity, he still hurts from the things I said and did. I must address this man and his character, as I feel I have not captured the truth behind this individual…

This man, who shall remain nameless, might not know what he means to me. (Don’t get your undies in a twist or anything. I’m not talking romantically. Weirdos) He is the kind of person that I met at my brightest time, and he shined brightly with me. We took the world and all its woes in our stride and we have both grown in many ways since we first met. It’s been inspiring to watch his transformation. This man, time and time again, has proven that when he says he wants me to be happy, he means it. This goes back to the beginning… I didn’t deserve love. Especially right now. I behaved like an uncultured swine. Some village somewhere had lost their idiot. It was profoundly disappointing. My behavior, short and simple, was unacceptable. As an adult, as a human being. And yet… even now… He still cares for me. How? Why? I don’t understand. I can’t understand. I mean, sure, I love everybody I come into contact with. I even love those really annoying customers who yell at me for doing my job. I mean, I don’t THANK them for that, but still. We’re all family, right? But why me? What did I do to deserve it?

I don’t know, but dang… I’m sure glad I did it. Mom and Dad and I are working on getting me some professional help. We’re seeking a good doctor who will give me some perspective and maybe some meds. And I’m so excited! Guys! I’m going to be sane soon! The good kind of sane! There’s this stupid stigma with mental illness and such, but people need to get over themselves, admit they have some issues, and go work on them. I told y’all this was the year of the Tay! I am going to rise up to the challenge. I’m going to be living in a new place, with a new job(s), starting my career, building my company, finishing my movie, and hey, maybe – HOPEFULLY – making the world a better place. I know I can do this. I know I can conquer this, or at the very least, I can learn to handle it. You guys have no idea what you’re all capable of.

Be brave, my lovely, powerful readers. Be strong. Life is going to be hard. Life is going to have some sucky moments. But there are people out there who love you, no matter what. And love you, no matter what.

Remember: what goes down must come up. And if you’re going to dream, dream BIG!

Healthy Tastes Better

That’s right. I said it. Healthy tastes better.

Better than what, you ask? Why, almost everything! Almost. In this case, it was homemade guacamole, a veggie tray, healthy tortilla chips, and some healthy chicken. Oh, and a plateful of spinach. It was fantastic. It was tasty, it was fresh, it was beautiful, and it was healthy! I feel better having eaten this. I’m ashamed that I didn’t get a picture of it.

In my efforts to better my being, eating healthy and exercising are two pillars in my foundations for improvement. What I’ve learned, what I’ve applied, and what I am willing to explore has given me the upper hand. If you’re ever feeling down for seemingly no reason, put down the ice cream and pick up an avocado.

We’ve all heard it: “You are what you eat.” That can be said on both a physical level and a mental one. You are what you eat. You become that which you consume. Look. See that? I just reworded it. Boo-ya. Anyway, you get it. Be happy. Eat happy. Be healthy! You can do this! If I can do it, you can do it! I’ll keep you guys posted.

Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to DREAM BIG!

I’m Awesome. You’re Awesome.

Here’s something I’ve learned over the years: I am nothing like the rest of the world. I am weird. I am odd. I am different than everyone else.

Here’s something else I’ve learned: You are nothing like the rest of the world. You are weird. You are odd. You are different than everyone else.

In a way, this makes us similar. Each of us have our own struggles and if we start comparing one struggle to another, we’re just breeding envy and other such nonsense. Anxiety, depression, bad home life, no job, loss of a loved one, disease, hunger; the list goes on and on. We are all subject to these torments.

So what?

Okay, so occasionally we succumb to our faults and we have really crappy days. I can list many-a-time when I’ve wanted to throw my hands in the air, laugh hysterically, and march out the door while singing “I QUIT!” in the most flamboyant of ways possible. There are days where I hide in my bed and pray that I am going to be okay. You know what the worst thing is you can say to someone who is in that state of mind? “It’s going to be okay.” I dunno about you, but that never helped me. That just made me go “well, crap. Now I have to make everything okay.” Someone said something else to me this morning that hit me so profoundly. Maybe I’m a narcissist, but it worked.

“Hey, you are awesome.”

It came out of the blue. There was no warning or prerequisite. (He doesn’t read this blog either) It stuck me so profoundly and so quickly that I responded immediately: “Not to sound arrogant, or ungrateful, but I know. You’re right. I am awesome. Thank you for reminding me.” I am so grateful this person said that to me. Because you know what? I am awesome. I am awesome. No one ever told me that in High School. I’ve been out of high school for 5 years and in those years I’ve come to understand the truth that this person randomly told me. I am awesome. And If I can be awesome, so can you.

I’m a man with enough faults to cause an earthquake, and yet I’m awesome. You’re awesome too. You have to believe that. You are awesome. So what if you’re lazy? So what if you’re sick? So what if you’re poor? So what?! You’re awesome! And that’s a great thing. Now go and use your awesomeness! Rise to the challenge and make a difference in this world! You’re awesome. And you always will be.

Remember, if you’re going to dream, dream BIG!

I made this in High School.
“If we could see the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life enough sorrow and suffering to disarm all hostility.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow… I made this in High School.

Anxiety Sucks

My family has raised me with the belief that mental illness is just a phase or bad attitude. Because of this, I cannot say for certain that I have some kind of anxiety disorder. I have not seen a doctor, nor do I have the funding to do so. So let me tell you what I know:

When I was no older that 5 or 6, my mom took my little brother and I to McDonalds to play on the playground and I saw him pushing another kid. This made me uncomfortable to the point where I returned to the table and started to silently cry to myself. My mom asked me what was wrong and I angrily said “nothing”. I couldn’t have been more than 6 years old, and yet that memory has burned into my mind.

When I was a little older, my family went to Skateland Roller Derby. It was really fun. We zipped around the rink as cheesy late 90’s early 2000’s music blared overhead. I left the rink, talked with the parents, and decided to go back into the rink. I swung my hand back too far. A little girl with a massive blue icee was standing behind me and my hand hit it, causing it to erupt all over her. She screamed and cried and I sped away. I hid in the bathroom, bawled my eyes out, took of my skates, and started having trouble breathing. Eventually, I calmed down, snuck out, told my parents (who told me to apologize and gave me money to buy a new icee). I found the girl sitting with her parents and I set the slushie on the table… I didn’t have the heart to look them in the eye, but I saw their faces change from angry, to confused. My face was red, snot dripping from my nose, my eyes swollen and wet. I said I was sorry before I marched back into the bathroom. The room was spinning. I felt dizzy and then I threw up into one of the toilets. I hid in that stall for a good twenty or so minutes. I sat in there, still as stone, tears running down my face, thinking I was a horrible person.

Nowadays, when I look back at the things I’ve done that are embarrassing, I can laugh a little. These two memories, though, are just two of the many that make me so sick that I cringe. I feel nauseous just thinking about them. My heart skips a beat, my mind enters fight or flight mode and tries to think and find things to distract me. I stop breathing. I stop being me.

When I tried telling my parents about this, they told me I was being dramatic. To be fair, I’ve been known to add unnecessary flair to my life. But somehow, I think this might be more than that. Last Tuesday, my sister and her friends and I gathered for our weekly dinners. I told a long and drawn out joke that left them confused. The silence shredded my soul into pieces. After dinner, I left and had some kind of panic attack where I had to curl up in the passenger seat of my friend’s car and wait for over half an hour before I felt I could trust myself to drive home. Today, I was supposed to do an event with these same people, but yesterday (Monday), I started feeling uncomfortable. I dreampt a bad dream and tried not to let it get to me. I went the whole day through work without much of a problem. But then I got home and everything came rushing forward. I don’t have a good job, I have no money, these people aren’t interested in this event I thought of, even my friends are ducking out, I have no where to move to at the end of the month, my car is falling apart. All these things seemed to rush in at me for no reason, causing me to cancel tonight’s plans and go into hiding.

I am a laid-back person. I love hanging out with people I don’t know. I love being random and laughing at myself and my foibles and follies. I love being me and not giving a crap about what other people think. But for some reason, I failed to do that two weeks in a row. This has never happened so frequently, but it has happened. It’s rough. I apologize for my lack of posts, updates, and general improvement.

All this being said, I am excited to move out. I am excited to find a new job. I am grateful for all these wonderful new people in my life. I am thrilled to be a part of their lives. I love to laugh with and at my own expense. I love to be with them. And I love all of you. Your support, your enthusiasm, your love has seen me through thick and thin. I am so proud of my peoples. You guys are powerful and you’re going to great places. Many blessings upon all of you. Thank you for your continued patience and support. You mean the world to me.

Much love,

Taylor