Thought

Too many nights I have spent awake crying from frustration as I rip the razor blade across my wrists, shins, belly, or thighs, trying to find a way to evict the dark cloud out of my head. Too many nights I have spent in despair, overflowing with emotion, too weak to fight off the voices telling me that I wasn't doing it right and that what I gave wasn't enough. This isn't a temporary phase, it's a lifetime. I've recently dealt with negative thoughts that began to cripple my every day life, and I was about to give up. I summoned up every ounce of my courage and tried to tell my parents that I needed help, I need help coping. The voice that I hear is overpowering me and sometimes, it's so loud that I listen to it. Like I will tonight. I am going to let that voice take over me. I already know that I won't have the strength to fight back.

I told my parents that I needed help.
My mom told me it was a phase.
My dad said that it was selfish.
And my brother said to ignore them.

How do I ignore their opinion when they are the ones who took me in and raised me?
Impossible.

At least five posts on Facebook were made between Thanksgiving and Christmas about the importance of mental health.

They commented on each publicly, but still said nothing to me until today. Christmas day. And what made her say something? She had to use the excuse that my family members were asking about me and wanted to know if I was okay. I said yes.

Lie.

But seriously, why do you wait to ask until you need an excuse to ask?

I know that it'd weird to ask. I know you don't want to think about it, me having a problem. But I do. And I need more help.

I guess what's bothering me is that mom thinks that everything is fine and dandy, but when she does ask me if I'm having a problem, it's always at a bad time. She asked today. I'm not going to tell you that I envision myself putting my foot on the gas pedal as hard as I can and 'accidentally' losing control of the wheel. Or that I want to sit in the bathtub and slit my wrists the right way, so that I disappear forever.

Don't push my mental health outside. You're not right.

Time

At some point you will realize that you have been trying too hard for too long, and you have to let go. A person, job, or whatever it may be, you have to stop doing so much for something that you're not sure is being appreciated. Leave it alone, walk away, and keep going. Letting go does not mean giving up, it means going forward and hoping that the person or thing you have left behind will get their life together and move on. I'm drawing the line of how far I will go, I'm tired of trying, tired of begging for your attention and tired of not going anywhere. I am but a child, and have the desire to roam free and do whatever I want. If I want to go down and travel and be alone, I won't have to answer to anyone, that is what I crave. I gave everything that I had to you and I have no more to give, I have no love for myself and I can not take care of anyone else until I take care of myself. I'm desperate. I love you, and always will, and I hope that this will be a wake up call for you to get yourself together. It needs to happen before we consider moving on together. I will wait for you, I will remain emotionally loyal to you. For how long, I am unsure, but I will be here for you. I need you in my life, Nick, want you so badly, but things need to change. Please.

Wednesday Morning

This morning I woke up sad. I woke up sad and recognized it from the second I moved out of bed. But why?

I don't have a single reason to feel any pain. I'm the typical 20 year old.I have friends, family, school, and work, but I still have the voice in the back of my head that controls me, that tells me I'm tired, that tells me I'm no longer needed here.

I feel this constant weight on my eyes, reminding me that I could tear up at any moment, recognizing that any thought that would make me go into my own head would try and release pain through tears. Help me.

The Man Who Walked Away With My Head

My first memories of you are of the rumors associated with your 'craziness' and how you were 'different.' You tried to bring a bird into the building, and were a little bit out there. And those biases remained in the back of my mind as our relationship grew, until I realized  I loved you for the man I knew inside of your room, not for what the others thought. You took me into your room and took control of me, and rather than a smooth bullet wound through my heart, you pierced right into the middle and shattered, tearing down every single one of the walls that I have been building for nineteen long years.

In the first memory of you, you're cheering me on as I sit on the bed at eye level from you with a kale shake in my hand. Holding the cup in my hand, I tried to twirl the bottom of the cup to stir up the gritty contents, but they don't move. You look at me and tell me to just chug it. I don't chug. I don't want to drink this. You stand there until I finish the entire cup, smiling at me when I was done, going off in endless, passionate speech about how it is important we eat things that we don't necessarily like because they contain supreme nutritional content. 

In the memory my brain is most fond of, you took my breath away as I lay on your carpet. The passion overwhelmed my senses and nothing mattered but you and I. Maybe it was the night we stayed up far too late and watched 'A Night in Paris,' or when we sat there and watched RSD videos and absolutely anything else we wanted. At first, the idea of you replaying one line in a video was irritating. Then I stopped letting it get to me so much that I realized with each time you rewinded the video, you laughed a little bit harder, a little bit longer, and I couldn't refrain from watching you. Too bad I realized this too late. 

The memory in which I do not care for is the position in which we are now left in, as it is change, and people have a hard fucking time dealing with change. You said that yourself. And now, I'm sitting here being forced to figure out why I couldn't even get a goodbye. 

Marriage

Up until recently, I've always wanted to get married. I would imagine my dad walking me down the aisle, flowers everywhere, and pretty colors surrounded by a bunch of friends and family. As I've grown older, I slowly have wanted less to do with a wedding. I want it in a backyard, with just close family and friends. And today, right now, I can't imagine spending the money on something so...not useful. Thousands and thousands of dollars go towards one day, but for what? Pictures to look back on? It isn't usually an easy day for either parties, and takes months of stress to plan everything out to a specific detail.

Maybe it's about the type of relationship that you share with that person, that sacred, honorable promise that you're giving yourself to a single person forever.

But why?
We should celebrate the beginning of a relationship when you ask your significant other to be yours and no one else's.

But then, why do we want to cut people offf from having sex with other people? Or other intimate relationships with others? It is in human nature to reproduce, and we naturally seek companionship.

There's just something about relationships that I don't understand, more of the idea of getting married than anything else. A celebration of people coming together and not having sex with anyone else and having a close relationship isn't all that special, considering we have a very similar relationship with our best friends. You have sex with a boyfriend and you don't have sex with a girl friend. Unless you're gay, a cheater, or a male (switch roles, I am female.).


A couple shouldn't need to have an official ceremony commemorating their fidelity to each other. Or a day for the wife to look beautiful. Why wear a white dress when the majority of couples have had sex, and the majority of those getting married have not been pure for the duration of their life?

Bonfires

I very much like the feeling of creating something so delicate looking but fierce. Knowing that nature can murder itself from a fire is one of the greatest flaws, but the greatest accomplisments.

Humans are similar.

Will

If you are not willing to feel it, you will. If you are not willing to do it, you will not.

We can not control our feelings. If we want love, we won't find it. If you don't want to feel sad, odds are that you will. We are not as in control of things as we may like to be. And there's nothing that we can do.

Anonymity

The idea of being anonymous (of unknown name, lacking identity) gives regular people like you and me power to do things they wouldn't necessarily do. With that mask, we feel unstoppable.

But why?

To avoid judgement or discrimination? To become untrackable and unreachable?

Every scenario has drawbacks benefits when remaining anonymous.

Anonymity can also be used to tell a story you wouldn't otherwise tell. Identifying personal traits that would cause you to stand out. But what if this mask was lifted, and the people you told knew who you were. But then when they lift their own mask, they lose their anonymity. And guess what, they're all like you. All with secrets they they only tell when have their mask on.

Anonymity is different than being pseudonymous. You are trackable. While you may be able to hide behind a different identity, all of these thoughts can be linked back to that username. Then the fear of everything being linked together and tracing it's way back to you is established. Then, possibly, whatever cause you are fighting for can be fixed, you can get that help. Maybe call it an accident. There's an alternative and a devil's advocate for each situation.

A dear friend of mine gave me the anonymous mask tonight. We have shared but two deep, intelligent conversations together, both which have brought us incredibly close and understanding of each other. I shared with him the post about my nightmares, and he described the mask as a way to be anonymous. It's weir the way that things work. I have known him for a week and am able to tell him my deepest, darkest secrets, and vice versa, but am unable to talk about these with people whom I've known for years. 

Mutual understanding.

He and I understand that we have both had terrible things happen to us. 

The ability to listen and not comment.

A lot of times, people just want you to listen to them and have a shoulder to cry on. Be there, and be silent.

Don't interrupt. Hear people out. Let them speak and communicate.

Actually give a fuck. We all say 'no fucks given' to every problem that occurs. THAT IS OUR PROBLEM. The ability to care about how someone's day actually went. Not the generic "hey what's up? You're good? I'm good too, thanks." How fucking boring is that. When I ask someone how their day is, actually look them in the eye and ask them. And care. Ask back up questions.

Being anonymous is a shield from reality. People would feel less inclined to hide if they knew that someone would care and take action to help them. Obviously this depends on the situation at hand.


Not a single one of us should feel the need to hide behind a mask and guard ourselves, but we do, and that's going to be the ultimate downfall, the reason we all end up disappointed with our lives, because we weren't straightforward enough to do what we wanted for fear of judgement.

I get about 4 readers per post. I don't know who you are. I don't know if you know who I am. But since you're taking the time to read this, start caring about people. Start by being genuine when you ask how someone's day is going or how they are doing. Those who don't care won't show you the same attention back. Get rid of them. If they can't take the time for you with a quick hello, what makes you think they will take the time for you when you're being anonymous and want to lift the mask?

About the last post

Just want to put out a post note about the last blog post. I am fine. This has been a story that I've been working on for a long time. I have no suicidal intentions or desires to hurt myself.

If I do need to talk to someone, however, I know where to contact.

For an anonymous website, check out www.blahtherapy.com

www.7cupsoftea.com

There is also a 24/7 Crisis Hotline (212) 673-3000  that helps people in distress and contemplating suicide. It's free, confidential, and available to anybody. I have used all of these resources, along with family and friends. Building up a strong support network is important for each and every one of us, we all go through hard times. 

Nightmares. My Story. Adult Content.

The lights are off in the room, and the rough, prickly feeling of the carpet tickles the back of my neck as I lay on the floor. I listen to the soothing tone of his voice as he talks in endless passion, slowly lulling me asleep, until he sits down an arm's length away, gazing at me in the darkness.

"What do you fear, Laura? How come you aren't afraid of anything?" It is as though he can read right through me, as though I was a sandcastle built on the water line, and a huge wave came crashing down and destroyed me. Becoming aware of every square inch my body took up in that room, I start to go through my head, untangling my thoughts and attempting to figure out any answer. Something that would protect him from the truth, shielding him from what's really inside my head. I tentatively begin to talk, my words shaking slightly, unsure if I would be able to finish.

"Wyatt, I was adopted when I was 9. My parents, not the ones who gave birth to me, but the ones who raised me, are my everything." Word vomit. I know that once I start this, it's not going to end. I've always wanted to just let it out to someone, every detail, and put it on them, thinking it could make me feel better. I can't stop. Pausing for a moment, I lift my chin up and look up at him, and he reaches for my hands and holds them, signaling through touch that I was safe. My voice begins to shake as I continue. "It took time for us to really love each other. It's a relationship that needed to be worked on-you love the idea of a child, but you don't actually 'love' a child, or anyone for that matter, until you learn all about them. It went the same way with my parents. We didn't know anything about each other, except that we both needed each other. It took a long time, 9 years to be exact, for me to realize exactly what a a real family was. I had it for 9 years, but didn't realize it, didn't appreciate my parents the way that I should have. My parents were there for the 6 years that I actively battled with depression. Six years of severe ups and downs that I didn't think I would make it through."

I pause for a few moments, and I can feel that he's still watching me, still waiting. Unsure of how to continue, I lock eyes with him, and we hold ourselves there for a few moments. He's trying to ask me something, I can tell, from the tightening of his hands around mine and the tilt of his head, eyebrows raised. The thoughts are coming so quickly into my head, crippling any capability of understanding him. I finally tell him that I don't understand, and holding my hands a little closer together, he asks a question I've been waiting to hear for a very long time.

"Do you feel safe here?"

I squeeze his hands tighter, out of instinct, knowing that the tears were about to come out. I don't cry in front of people, what is wrong with me? Do I feel safe enough in this room to continue? I could give him just a generalization of what happened in my nightmares, he wants to know, he should know. Wyatt should know. I do feel safe here, I know he won't think of me differently. But do I truly feel safe here, in the relationship that the two of us have? Will I be okay?

This is the first time that he has asked me how I feel and truly wanted to know how I felt. The first thing that I am about to openly admit to him is my plague, the thoughts that kill me late at night.

"Yes."


I try to gather my thoughts, try to think of where to start and what to possibly leave out. He reads my face, contemplating possibilities, and tells me to start from the beginning, and tell me exactly how they are. This is when I know he is patient,  able read right through me, knowing if what's coming out is a lie. I take a deep breath in and begin.

"My father, he was an abuser of all kinds. I didn't realize that it was abuse until years later when we learned at school that people weren't supposed to touch you in your private areas. Just because he was my dad didn't mean it was okay for it to happen. When I've had a bad day, or I smell something that reminds me of my father, I'll have the night terrors. The memories that I try to keep buried deep inside, the raw thoughts that cut me, on the inside and the outside."

Time passes in silence. It could be an minute or an hour passing and I wouldn't know. The words keep coming, thoughts slowly escaping my lips.
 
"I remember hearing the slow rattle of the door handle and the squeak of the door as it opened, and immediately my body becomes glued to the bed. I didn't know that it wasn't right at the time, but I didn't like it, not one bit. It hurt me, and daddies don't hurt their little girls, they protect her. I remember at first it was just touching. He just touched and looked at me naked, saying he was "searching for ticks" in the middle of a Connecticut winter or when I wasn't outside that day. Then he took his hands to my skin."

The words come out garbled through tears and heaving sobs.

"The first time that my own father raped me is a pain that can not be replicated. I've went through a spinal fusion and that didn't hurt half as bad as this. While you can't remember pain, I just remember that it hurt and I couldn't move. And my body became paralyzed when it happened, unable to fight him off or tell him to stop. He was my daddy, and daddies don't hurt little girls. What hurts more than that physical pain are the emotions that flood and drown my memories, my dreams, making me forget the line between reality and the past."

Time stops. The only sounds heard are the hum of the refrigerator and me, crying, happy this was out, but too stuck in my head to recognize that I am no longer in that room with my father, but sitting on the floor rocking back and forth. The flashbacks come easy and won't leave without a fight, and some days it's easier to fight the battle. When I couldn't emotionally fight the battle, I would lay myself in the bathtub naked and take the razor blade in my hand. Often times, I was too mentally exhausted to realize what I was actually doing, too numb to realize that I was inflicting more pain upon myself. I took the razor and would quickly glide it back and forth against the skin on my inner calf, thigh, tummy, and wrist. I only cut the wrist when everywhere else was butchered, I sure as hell didn't want people to know I was sad. When I couldn't fight my demons, I had the craving to feel the tug of the razor at my skin, to get the feeling running through my veins to help me feel human again. Some days, the razor was pressed harder against my skin, other days they barely bled. The days that I made myself bleed more, I would let the blood drip down my legs or arms and form puddles, then fill up the bathtub and watch in a paralyzed awe as the water turned a light red color. After I let myself feel the pull of the razor and the burn of the water as it saturated my wounds, I would drag myself to bed and wake up the next morning as though nothing ha ever happened. Different triggers cause me to relive certain memories that I've kept bottled up. Looking at Hawaiin Punch reminds me of the bath water. Tweety Bird reminds me of my father. I  try and force myself to stop thinking. Speaking of birds, the ones outside are chirping, and it brings me slowly out of the haze. Time passes and reality comes to life as I open my eyes and look up at Wyatt. He tells me I am doing great.

Great according to who, him? He doesn't know me. Oh wait, yes he actually DOES know. Why did we even begin this conversation, why am crying?
  
I realize that none of this matters. It happened, he knows. He knows the one thing that I've never told a single soul, not my parents, not my best friends, and not my parents. And then, I know that his question can finally be answered. I knew the answer all along, just needed to talk myself through it, to give someone else the context for the biggest reason I'm truly not afraid.


"The reason for this is why I'm not afraid to fall, because the only battle that is harder than the one of my father that I'll have to fight is the one that leads me to my death. Six years of nightmares almost every night paralyzed my happiness and left me hopeless and bleeding on the bathroom floor. I was once so sad, unsure of where I was going to go, and the only thing that I could be afraid of is something killing me. But then, I would have another adventure - to explore what happens after death. We are all okay, and the things that make us afraid are what cause us to miss out on our lives."

Mid Day Thoughts

I think something long before someone else says it, especially when it comes to human behavior. If someone is deceitful or greedy, I can figure it out rather quickly. It just makes it ten times easier to play with their heads and make them come out of their comfort zone even more. A lot of people don't know the type of person they characterize them self with. For example, I know a girl who is ridiculously greedy, and she takes and takes without giving anything back. Since day one, I have watched her take money, time, effort, and love, with nothing in return. And I guess i could choose to call her out on that, but I usually let it slide. she recently 'lost' ten dollars that I had put in her purse when we went out. I know she didn't drop it, it was at the bottom of her bag wrapped around my ID card, and she managed to find the ID card and not the money. Greedy and sneaky. Those are the only ways to say it, because that's what she is.

Another example is when people try to fit in. The words that they choose are to try and gain attention from the person they deem as better or want to fit in with, and they can not yet open up to themselves.

People are shady. But just remember, I can read your social cues before you even know you're doing them. Watch out.

If You Decide To Stay

If you ever find me on a night where I've stopped breathing because it hurts too much, or I"m laying on the floor attempting to feel something, anything, even if it's just the cold touch of the tiles on the bathroom floor, just know that I don't mind if you walk away. I give you permission to leave me there, without a single word for explanation. But if you see me sitting in the corner, salty tear trails tracing my cheeks, fingers entangled in my hair in a sorry attempt to hold my head up, and you decide to stay, just know that I will never let you go. I'll keep you in my chest, so maybe you'll force me to breathe. Or maybe, I'll a mount a picture of your smiling face on the bathroom wall, so I can see your loving face before I go to tuck myself in the corner again. I'll keep you around so maybe, just maybe, there won't be a next time.

Him

I've slowly begun to forget the way you smell. The aroma of food from your work shirts arousing my nose after you get home from work. The sweet cologne pulling me in closer during a hug, tempting me to eat you because you smell so damn good. I close my eyes at night and believe that you're lying down next to me, and when I open my eyes in the middle of the night, you're not there watching me sleep. Maybe I'm just afraid that no one will love me as much as did, as much as you do. And I worry that I have lost you, but you have lost me, so it seems. The pain is still very present on my mind, and your touch, your smile, your voice, still linger in my thoughts. I still crave every inch of you, still desire to know every thought that comes to your mind as you exhale your words. I still want you, still want all of you so badly, but the pull is still there. My mind wanders to you when ever I'm alone, and I can't help wondering where you are or what you're doing. But then I realize, at 4am, that I chose this. I chose to hurt myself as such, but am still unable to cut strings with the life I have lived in the middle time. 

Some More Feelings

Distance is supposed to make the heart grow fonder, but it tore us apart. There was not one night where I didn't feel as though something sneaky was happening, and the lung crushing, heart racing feeling still envelops over my body every night. I know that this man absolutely adores the shit out of me. He would do anything, so where is my appreciation? Why am I unable to give this to him? Because I can not settle down. I have failed to be loyal emotionally, and that is a battle that I could not continue any longer. The matter was explained to him numerous times, but he stated that it was okay and normal for me to think about him, to wonder why he suddenly disappeared. It's more than that, I am not ready to be with someone such as him. My heart is still up in the air, and I can not look into the mirror yet and tell myself that I am beautiful, and though he reminds me every day, it is still a fact that I can not comprehend. Loving your own self is the ultimate path to happiness, as long as you are comfortable with the person that you are, and I am not. I could not tell him the whole truth, and I can not speak it out loud myself, so of what significance am I in a relationship? I am not an equal, I am less that him, and that is not something which my personality can handle. There is no guarantee that I'm supposed to do this, sometimes I wish the answer would just jump out at me. I want to be with him, it's just too difficult. Time to get my thoughts together, time to get my feelings straight. I don't want to be with someone if it isn't a complete one hundred percent. I wish I could hold you in your arms and take every little drop of pain that I've caused away, but I need to be honest with myself first, then move on and tell you how I feel. I've hurt myself but have hurt you more, and there is no apology that could ever make up for the pain in which I have caused. One day I hope he realizes that this was for the better, and that I'm just making a stupid immature mistake. I desperately hope that in this process I don't lose him, but I want him to be able to move on and make sure that this decision is for the best of our interests.

Managing Oneself

Below are my notes from the book 'Managing Oneself' by Peter Drucker.

Feedback Analysis

            Whenever you make a key decision or action, write down what you expect will happen. 9-12 months later, compare the results.

            This method will show you what you are doing or failing to do that deprives you of the full benefits of your strengths. Also, it will show you where you are not fully competent. And lastly, it will show you where you have no strengths and where you can not perform.

            Concentrate on your strengths. Put yourself where you strengths can produce results. Work on your strengths. One should waste little time on improving areas of low competence. It takes more time to work on areas of low competence than to work on building your strengths.

It is okay to be subordinate in life. You can be the best at a lower rank-it’s still something to be proud of. General George Patton was a prime war hero in the lower ranks, but was not promoted because the US Chief of Staff knew he wouldn’t make a good general because he would be a better subordinate.

Strong decision makers put someone they trust in their number two spot, and the number two person succeeds there because they are unable to make decisions. The number one is the decision maker and is outstanding, but still needs the number two in order to  remain stable and logical.

Do not change yourself, rather work hard to improve the way in which you perform.

Ethics: What kind of person do you want to see in the mirror each morning?

“I see no point in being the richest man in the cemetery.”

Highly gifted people don’t know where they belong until their mid twenties, but they will know their strengths, values, and how they perform.

When making a plan of action, the results should be hard to achieve (but within reach), meaningful (and make a difference), and finally, visible and measurable.

A midlife crisis is simply boredom. An average person reaches the height of their career at age 45, and has worked twenty long years to reach their fullest potential, and still has another twenty to work. They begin to lose interest or switch careers because they are bored and no longer contributing anything to the workplace or learning anything new.

Late Night Thoughts...Again

This post was started in a Facebook post on March 7th, but it will continue onto here, as the emotions are more raw here.

It seems to be the case that we hurt the ones we 'love', because we know that if they truly 'love' us, they will be there for us even after we abuse and take advantage of their love. When does the abuse of their understanding of our discontent end? Is there a clear definition of the stopping point of their juggling of our pain? Maybe the ending point depends on the strength of the relationship, but then, we don't tell a person we just met but ten minutes ago a secret that your childhood best friend knows, and that relationship is bound to be stronger than the new person. But that new person may be more forgiving, they just met you, so maybe anxiety and caution is taken, and you slip, and say something that wasn't meant to be. They could be more forgiving. But your childhood best friend knows you better than your spouse may, and may just let it slip.

But what about spousal relationships? Not even just spouses, significant others, as well. Is true love being able to support that person through anything? You take vows to have and to hold, for better or for worse, but when that person cheats or becomes the person that you didn't think that they were, you leave in an instant. No second thoughts. Divorce has gotten too easy, too close to everyone's fingertips that couples don't want to try to work things out, they have no ambitions, no path to try and fall in love all over again and again. That's what marriage is, you must work at it and work at it.

We feel comfortable taking our anger out on the ones who will tell us that everything is going to be just dandy at the end of the day, but why? Why don't we take it out on the thing that causes our pain. The cowardliness in our personalities-we all have it- prevents us from standing up to what we truly feel. Many say that we need not care about others on our way up to success, but don't we crave human companionship/

Types of Sugars

Most think that there are two types of sugars, but the topic of sugar is actually very complex.

One of the most common is artificial sugar. These are synthetic substitutes (sometimes they are from real herbs, but most of the time not), and are commonly the most intense of the sugars, because they intensify the sweet taste without adding extra calories. One of the downsides of artificial sugars like these is they can sometimes leave an unpleasant aftertaste. Many of these can not be used in baking as they are not bulky, such as table sugar or cane sugar, but they take away the amount of real sugar in a recipe. Artificial sugars can help people with diabetes-it provides the sweetness without actually raising blood sugar, but as always, ask your doctor about what you should do for your particular diet, as all of our bodies are different. Another controversial benefit is that they contribute to your diet by taking away a caloric value, something typical sugar would. Research suggests that this idea may be a temporary fix, as the artificial sugar will cause you to crave more sugary things in the future, and desensitize your tongue to the taste of real sugar, causing it to become less attractive to your brain.

Second up are sugar alcohols. They are regulated by the FDA, are not as sweet as natural sugar, and are both a natural and unnatural carbohydrate, natural similar to those found in certain fruits and vegetables. They do not actually contain any alcohol in them- as they don't have any traceable amounts of ethanol in them. Sugar alcohols are used in processed foods and things such as chocolate, mouthwash, and frozen desserts. They allow the product to become bulky, have texture, and help keep food moist. These are not favorable over artificial sugars to diabetics as they are a carbohydrate, thus raising blood sugar, but the absorption of them into the bloodstream is less then natural sugars. Too much of this type of sugar can cause gastrointestinal track problems as a negative.

Natural sugars, or added sugars, are what you see added to a food during the processing process. Honey and sugar are both considered added sugar, (HONEY SHOULD NOT BE GIVEN TO CHILDREN UNDER 1 YEARS OLD AS IT CAN CARRY BOTULISM). Personally, honey is my favorite sweetener, and as always, everything you eat should be eaten within moderation.

I wrote this for myself, really. Learning how to take care of my body and treat is well and feed it for the future has become something of major importance. Do research before you buy, look at the ingredients, and learn what not to look for.

Feeding Your Brain For Success: The Beginning

By definition, our brain is "an organ of soft nervous tissue contained in the skull of vertebrates, functioning as the coordination center of sensational and intellectual and nervous activity." Weighing in at about 3 pounds, the brain controls everything that goes on in your body, so why not feed it what it needs, what it craves?

The brain is composed of 100 billion or so brain cells, or neurons. The neurons generate energy from the food that we eat, which translates over to mental and physical contributions into our daily life. The better we feed our neurons, the better we are mentally and physically. What doesn't make sense in this picture to go out and feed our brain processed, nutrient deficient food, when just around the corner there is something that may not necessarily be the healthiest thing to eat, but it is a better, smarter option.

As humans, we go about protecting our bodies in every measurable way possible. We wear helmets when we ride our bikes, seat belts in the car, brush out teeth every day, wear clothing, all of these things are done as a preventative. Helmets are worn to prevent hurting your head if we fall, seat belts to stop us from getting more injured in a car accident, we brush our teeth to prevent cavities, wear clothing to prevent burns from the sun and wind. Everything we do is a biological, instinctual mindset to protect our bodies. So why do we not feed our bodies, our organs, our tissues, our blood, our cells the food that it needs to prevent us from getting diseases as such, things that could slowly kill us. Heart disease is the number one cause of death in the United States. Fun fact, all of these things are preventable. Smoking and poor diet are the highest contributors to heart disease and many of the fixable diseases that are seen in our daily life. So why do we refuse to fix it?

Personal Thoughts on Diet

A higher amount of Americans eat unhealthy than they eat healthy. And there are numerous reasons for that, real and complete bullshit. My dad, for example, is one of those Americans that don't watch their diet at all, and don't seem to care. I don't understand why he won't eat similar to the way in which my mother does. He sits at his computer all day, goes downstairs every two hours and eats whatever he can get his hands on-typically stuff that he 'gets for my brother'. He is literally screwing over his body when he has the healthier foods right next to the ones that please the taste buds better.

As I'm going through my no processed food or artificial sugar journey, I'm trying not to be judgmental to those who choose to eat poorly, but why, when you have the information at your fingertips and the food right down the road. I suppose I must sympathize in some way-it took me 19 years to figure this out. I always knew that I wanted to choose a healthier life for myself, but didn't know where to start. Meeting Wyatt and taking all of these nutrition classes at school has given me a positive start to the rest of my life, I just hope that my behaviors can influence on my family.

Not My Area of Concern

I want to so badly text him and tell him to go back home so that I can talk to him, but I have no voice in his actions anymore. I want to tell him to leave the bar and come back home to me, get in bed so I can hold him all night. But I can't. That's no longer what I can do, something that I can't control anymore. That's the worst thing about not being by your side. But I chose not to be there, so this was ultimately brought upon me by myself. My loss, I suppose. On the bright side, I am trying to push forward and keep my eyes on the prize. I did get a text from an old friend where we had a flirtatious relationship, but that was it. It won't lead anywhere, I don't think. I want him to move on so its easier for me.

I couldn't bring my eyes into focus, couldn't turn my body to look at you. All that I could do is keep my hand inside of yours, hold it as tight as I possibly could have, and say those awful, heartbreaking words. I want to bring him back, want him to feel my love and feel what it means to be loved by him. But what's holding me back? That's something that I can't seem to comprehend, an idea that won't come into my thought processes. It may be my biggest regret, but it could also be my biggest happiness. It feels good during the day, but bad during the day. Not even a phone call or a text. Nothing. It hurts, but we must overcome. Moving forward only comes from moving on from pain. This sucks, it really does, but we've got to move on.

Storm

"If I could just see you,
Everything would be alright,
If I could just see you,
This darkness would turn to light."

My heart is divided. Half the time I want it, and half the time I don't. I know everything will be alright, but I'm not prepared to do any of this. I'm not emotionally ready to give myself to one person. I need to work on myself, I need to do well for Laura. That's what this journey is about. It's ridiculously hard not having him here to talk to at the end of the night. So incredibly hard. And I don't think that I could do this for one more day. One more second, but I must wait until he wakes up and reads it. What if he says no? I would understand, I would accept it. I made a mistake. But what about the other? There is genuine care and appreciation. He opens up my eyes. But there are emotions there that don't exist, things that I need that I can not yet receive.

If there is a single person who deserves this happiness, it's him. And I took it away. In one slick, unthoughtful motion. I thought it was thought out, but I was wrong. I was very wrong, and I made the worse mistake of my life. I know that he is in the exact position I was in just 9 short months ago. Why why why?

My Biggest Regret

The hardest, strongest, but most honest emotions come in the middle of the night. When your mind is exhausted beyond belief and there is nothing you want more in this world than to sleep, to shut your eyes and let your dreams take you out of your reality. But then suddenly, all of these emotions just rush into your throat out of nowhere, your face begins to swelter, and you can't hold back the heaving sobs that make you choke.

I wish I didn't say goodbye to him. I regret that. Maybe because it's been two days since I said those words and looked into his eyes and felt his heart give out. He wouldn't let me go, wouldn't let me leave. Why the fuck did I do this? I don't know. I want him to get better, but I want to be by his side when he does it, that's what a good woman does. A good woman is going to go through all his pain with him, she's going to be there when he stumbles and falls, and help to put him back on his feet. I don't want to love another person besides him, I don't think I can. There was a future between us, and we both saw it. I'm supposed to be next to him on his journey, just like he has been with me. I know damn fucking well that he would go to the ends of this earth to make me happy and to support me, he's already shown that. I can't believe I did this.

He gave me his heart. He left it at my feet, and I took it in my hands, and I took the knife and slowly but surely drew it closer and closer to my palm, and stabbed his beating heart, and at the very end, I didn't measure the distance correctly and stabbed myself in the heart. Who got the worst of the stab, I'm not really sure. I want to fix my bleeding, broken heart. Time apparently heals all wounds, but can it heal this one? I don't think so. I know that it won't. I need him. I crave him, my heart won't stop aching until I make this right.

Basic Thoughts

"I do not want your love, my love, until you learn to love you."

Just two nights ago, I attempted to break it off with my boyfriend of almost 6 months. He made it absolutely impossible to do, saying how he would prefer a break. Well, I don't particularly believe in breaks from a person. But, just to attempt to make him happy for one last attempt, I gave in to him. I told him I would give him an answer on Sunday. But I don't think that's enough time. I don't think it ever will be. I care about him and I do 'love' him, but is that enough?

I'm lost. My heart doesn't know where it's going. I'm about to make this huge life change, and am not sure if he's going to be able to do it with me. I don't think he can. The only way that I could stick with him is if he changes with me, too.

Do I love myself? Do I love myself to let go of something, or someone, who could ruin my progress? Will my own willpower be stronger than the urges?

What really is loving oneself? Acceptance of one's own self worth? Loving your own insecurities? Well, I know that I'm worth something to someone- but worth the most to myself. What about my insecurities? My biggest insecurity are those scars on my back, or the way that I think,  but he loved(s?) all of them, or so he says. Maybe 'love' is having someone who will love all of those things you don't like about yourself, but is that really possible?

I don't think that he loves himself enough yet. I have tried giving him as much tender love and care as I could, and all has remained the same. He relies on me to make himself feel good, and that isn't right. In order for one to love another, you must love your own flaws, and he does not, and he makes no effort to change them. While my scars may be something permanent, the way in which I think can be changes, which I'm working on, and my diet can be changed, which I am also working on.

This post may be added onto later on. I've really stretched my sleeping schedule up this weekend, which doesn't contribute positively to the journey of a better me at all.

Spark

I've been thinking about changing the way I live for several months, since I decided that I wanted to become a health inspector at my local university. This isn't just a spur of the moment choice, it's been planned out. Well, the idea has been planned out, but not the actual steps.

Recently, I've been getting sick. I have had at least eight Urinary Tract Infections within the past year, multiple yeast infections, I feel sluggish and tired, and haven't felt as though I was using my brain to it's full capacity. The feeling of doing well in my life is something I miss, and what's compelling me to do well.

I'm going to use this blog to try and write every day about the struggles that I face, what I've been thinking about, and whatever else comes to mind. I want to have a better understanding of how people work, how what we put into our body effects the way we work, and why people choose certain actions and paths. My overall goal is to be a permanently happier, healthier person.