Oh yee of little to no control…

” Life is an infinite loop of uncontrollable events ..from the book Note to Self by Connor Franta”

I can’t control the weather… and in the same likeness, I have no imminent control over my fears & anxiety. The world around me could perceive that I do and maybe to a degree, they aren’t entirely wrong but when in that head space, the there & now of my fears, I’m paralyzed completely by my inability to see past what brings me absolute terror. From what I know, my fears didn’t just up and sprout out of the blues. They weaved about in me like a small seedling, deeply rooted from the scars left about by experiences which again, I had absolutely no reign over. I cannot control my infinite fear of loss, that’s there to stay. I’ll never get out of the fear of having my heart try survive it’s existence without my family alive… For my anxieties, I’m like a map with no compass. I don’t feel like I’m aware on where to start. I am a bundle of buzzing nerves with no on and off switch. I can’t absolutely shake the anxiety that it is to just be alive, to merely exist as myself and live through trying to fulfill every ounce of pressure placed on my measly weak shoulders.

I have no absolute control over time, for it is more than just the continued spectrum of occurrences, it is more than the minute or the hour or the day. I could decide on what to do in the next two minutes but consequentially, I hold little power on the likelihood of my decision going through or not happening at all. Control is ever so little, especially since it was never much yours from the very start. I have no control over my unfulfilled dreams or goals, especially those yet to be achieved. They may weigh the most heavy on me but there’s little to nothing I can do about them. Like my sister knowingly teased me earlier by saying to me that, “there’s no degree for you at the supermarket, right next to the isle of Krackles waiting on you to come pick it up, you’re gonna have to wait to study for it to get it.” (krackles are my favorite chips.) It is a helpless feeling having no immediate control over an aspiring future, a future that isn’t promised but just desired. I am not one for the virtue of patience which quite frankly irritates me every so often that things and life can’t be sped up, at any cost. I’m not a live in the moment kind of girl, even when I know, there’s no better time than the present. Today like many of other days in the past, I was hit with the intensity of just how little control over the uncertainty of the future I can change or alter.

I have no control… No control of the haunted memories of the past. Of the little girl who’s soul and being felt always forlorn. Of my memories of her as she envisioned what her journey to school was hopefully gonna be but didn’t quite turn out as she might have hoped. That the rise of a new dawn would in hope bring in her the warmth from the sun into her measly heart. To the memories of a sadness that couldn’t quite be shaken down by the simple joy of being a child. Even then, there wasn’t much control this little girl had, it never was in her hands, and despite the lapse of time, she’s still shaky on that control even now that’s she’s me and somewhat grown up. I have no control of how life went down for that little girl. To the years closed in on herself, to the loss of her protector, to the loss of her identity or even to the last meal she had last night for dinner. No control at all.

When I think I’ve ran out of things I have no control over, I realise that it’s quite the opposite actually… I cannot seem to go through each and every thing that’s actually beyond my control…

For now, I conclude with the fact that I don’t have control of what others may perceive of me. I doubt quite a lot whether anyone truly has control of this specific aspect of things. I’ve battled with this all my life, especially since my nature has had me be a people please (if I could call myself that). I admit, it’s not the best perk especially since it goes hand in hand with my immense fear of being in anyone’s bad books. Truthfully, even i realize how hard it is to juggle those two character traits about myself especially with the knowledge that’s there’s little to zero control I have over how they are retaliated by others. We all know this, we are all aware of how little power we have over what people think about us even when all we can do is wish and hope that it’s all good things. I’ve shoved down emotions and feelings just so they won’t have to ‘rock the boat’ with anyone. I’ve grown to resent those I love and somewhat care for just cause they have consistently pushed a button of mine that I’ve not gotten around to confronting them about. It’s genuinely the worst trait about me. I’m a big pushover and I wish I could say I knew how to change that but I don’t. But regardless of it all, I still wouldn’t have control over anyone’s thought in relation to me. I can’t bend anyone to feel a certain way about me, even if I wanted and you know what, that’s okay. It’s absolutely okay that I don’t have that kind of power because it shouldn’t bother me at all (even if it does a little) but it shouldn’t… It’s part of free will. Therefore, it’s okay that others may beg to differ on what they can or can’t control but for me, it often feels a lot like there’s only so little that’s actually in my hands. Who knows, maybe along the line, I’ll work on learning more of those things that actually are in my control.

Easing up just a little on my perfectly imperfect soul.. ⏯️🛎

You ever have those aspects of yourself that you’re not entirely sure are a good thing? Well I do, at least. Lots of them actually. I’ve got this specific one that I wouldn’t consider the most obvious or detectable to those who know me but don’t get to spend enough time around me to be able to pick up the said trait. For someone closer, in this case my sister who’s also my roommate has grown accustomed to it and isn’t quite fond of it. In regards to it, it makes me the Debbie Downer sister, the most up tight, the less spontaneous, oh, and the worrier too… I wouldn’t really say that I hate this specific aspect of myself fully, it grounds me to an extent and anyways, I’m only regarding it now as a flaw on the occasional times when I wish it didn’t restrain me as immensely as it does… Okay okay, enough of the beating around the bush nonsense and I’ll get right to just saying exactly what it is this said aspect of myself is. I believe that in lay man’s language, what I’ve got going on is the character aspect of a perfectionist. I’m not 100% sure whether in most cases, one’s actions that may fall under the bracket of a perfectionist are excusable entirely and whether it eliminates one from some form of fault. This isn’t to mean that wrong actions are meant to be absolved just cause one couldn’t help their perfectionist nature… and now I’m getting derailed from what I initially meant to write in regard to this insistent need of mine to do everything by the book…back to focus.

Take for example, my last statement right there. It’s absolutely okay that I write whatever comes to mind and not feel like it’s some crime I’ve committed that requires some form of punishment from god knows who or what. I’ve said it to myself before that I wish I could make my writing absolutely spontaneous but despite trying to keep up with that notion, minutes before I was able to write all this down here, I couldn’t help myself but scribble down a few highlights on this exact topic in the fear that I’d screw it up if I left it to the fate of my mind to remember exactly what my line of thought was at the very beginning. Pardon me if I hardly sound like I’m making any sense. Technically, my incessant need to have everything in some prime and proper version of things does piss on my parade a lot more than I’d like to admit.

Do you know what’s most absurd about it to me in regard to this, it’s the crazy notion in my mind that’s convinced of some form of reprimand in the case that things aren’t done in the ‘rightful’ manner. My conscious mind believes that whatever action that’s to be undertaken, if slightly bent from its set out route of focus, there will be life changing repercussion…Maybe in some cases, there might stand the chance of the odds being in favour of things needing to be done exactly as they are supposed to be done but on the off chance that the world won’t end if I don’t do things all perfect, it makes it direly impossible to have spontaneity ever happen to me. I cannot begin to elaborate just how much of this aspect of myself is fully embedded in me. It’s in everything little thing I can think of that I do. From the way I talk, to the way I carry myself around in front of people, to the way I arrange my things in my wardrobe, to the way I write… It goes on and on. It’s even trickled down to a hobby that’s absolutely supposed to relax me and completely take the edge off which is what has led me to being here and writing it down. Colouring. Yes, you read that right. I recently started colouring and had been yearning to do it for a while now because I thought to myself, why not, seems like it would be quite fun and it would bring the carefree child in me out a little bit more, to reminisce on easier times in life through bringing colour to portraits & pictures. But guess what, even that had to get trampled over by my need to do things right… I was just colouring a while ago and I couldn’t help but feel upset that I wasn’t colouring one of the pictures in my colouring book exactly as the object usually is in reality. When I first started, I’d insist on checking exactly what colours a certain picture was so that I’d colour exactly in the same manner. Rather than embracing the spontaneity of creating my own art in colour, I was anxious that by some random chance, someone would pick up my colouring book and question me for not colouring respectively as it should be. The whole point of me colouring was never to seek out perfection but despite that, I can’t seem to shake off the idea that everything needs to fall exactly into its right place or in this case, its right colour.

Like I said, to some extent, I’ve grown accustomed to it because without a doubt, I’ve never been one to live on the edge of life. I’ve always played things safe, never to purposely or intentionally rock the boat. Being a perfectionist has helped somewhat calm my raging anxiety over things beyond my control though it is also technically built on the very said anxiety. I truly believe that if I was less of an anxious person, I’d be more relaxed, maybe Zen even. Maybe then, I’d care less about the fear of an absurd repercussion than trying to have everything fall into its proper place. I’m sadly a real major stickler for order and despite how much I’d wish to change that, I think it’s best to admit that it will take a whole lot to rid me of what can be now termed second nature to me. Gotta admit though, I wish my mind, soul and body would just go with the flow you know… Sore away with the wind, wherever it may take me without the fear of a possible anxiety attack. What can I say, it’d be nice to have my own nature try not wring the breath out of my neck in the face of a little imperfection.

P. s This here is a picture of my current remotely acceptable coloured picture, not sure whether it’s a smurf or a gnome but I wanna hope that it’s colours match those acceptable to the gods of perfectionism. 😌

..another P.S …So apparently, from Pinterest quotes, it’s not at all a good thing to be a perfectionist. It’s very flawed seemingly. I’m not here to justify it’s good or bad aspects, maybe just to reflect on its disadvantage a little, at least when it’s not being life threatening.

It is absolutely Okay

It is absolutely okay that the current and present feel in my heart right now is freedom. Freedom of letting go what I couldn’t salvage or save. Freedom from the bond that was genuinely holding me down and caging me in.

It is okay that I chose myself other than the other person. It is okay that I feel conflicted over whether it truly is okay that I made the choice to walk away for the reasons that I chose.

I may have wondered whether it was the right thing to do but I can’t refute how good it is to be by myself. I was scared to feel lonely but now I know that being lonely isn’t what’s meant to kill me.

It’s absolutely okay that I have no immediate plans for my future. It is okay that I feel conflicted over not having the said plans. I’ve had immense amounts of pressure weigh in on my shoulders over getting a head start on my journey after school and it’s all but made me want to loose my mind further down than I already have.

It’s been hard having to justify to everyone, and most especially to myself that I don’t feel ready to just up and start on to the next thing that is meant to kick start ‘adulthood’ for me.

The goal on everyone’s mind is to have me fall in line just as is expected of me to now look for a job or start on a career I in the least feel qualified enough to embark on. I know it may take a while to believe in my decision and feel ‘unwavered’ over making it but it is absolutely okay that I’m indecisive over the next course of my life.

It isn’t a fault not to have my shit together and that maybe, what I really need to care about isn’t how to convince others of my choices but find contentment in the fact that they are my decisions and it’s okay that they don’t and won’t always please everyone.

It is absolutely okay that I feel lost in my passions. The feeling of not having enough to turn my writing into a best seller with just a wave of a wand. It is okay that I feel under-qualified in my craft and that I know it will take a lot more of me building my self believe than learning how to write more artistically pleasing.

It is okay that I hope to put my writing out there, for the world to read and find solace, joy and beauty in my work. I aspire to write and never grow tired of finding more words to describe the world and my thoughts on everything. It is okay that all my plans feel very slow progressed.

They might not be taking place at the said speed of lightning but they will happen in due time. It is okay that I’ll sometimes feel like they are but just a dream, a dream I still very much peg my trust in.

Therefore, it is with absolute certainty that it’s okay that I’ve still got a lot to learn, a lot to experience, a lot more to write… and as long as I can and will write, then it is okay that it doesn’t have to all happen now.

Despite the uncertainty of things, it is absolutely okay that I’m still learning about my mental health.

I may not always be the best judge when it comes to deciphering whether everything I feel is bound to the black hole of depression but it’s okay that I’m still trying to figure it out.

I know I’m not always right and I stand the chance to be more wrong most times than I will be right but despite it, I’m okay with learning through the act of sometimes being scared and over reading into things.

My journey through struggle has shed enough light that fear will cripple me a lot when it comes to understanding my mental health. It’s okay that I don’t know what always to feel when things get hard for me mentally.

…and finally, it is absolutely OK that my writing won’t always make sense… That I won’t always feel my best about what I write or how I write. It is okay that my styles of writing differ from those whose writing I admire the most.

In time, I trust that I’ll see the beauty in the formation of my words and in the style I chose to let them flow. It is okay that I’m often unimpressed by my own writing and also occasionally pat myself in the back for even being able to put two words together that make some form of sense.

It is okay to feel doubt in myself in regard to my craft, it gives room for me to push myself further at trying to better myself. It’s okay that there’s always room for growth…and it’s absolutely okay that I wrap this up here and retire to sleep.

Coming to terms with the bitter sweet…

Not too long ago, on this very platform, I did something very unlike myself. I let out emotion and vulnerability in what I believed was love. Now, a lot of things just took a turn and I’m not here to take back what I said but I am here to unarmour myself again and to somewhat cry for lost love, unrequited love and a tinge of heartbreak.

It seems as though I may have bitten a bit more than I could chew earlier when I got into the current relationship if I may at all call it that anymore. When I first spoke of it, I was certain that it would be different, it would have me wishing for nothing more. I wrote of how I was trying to navigate the whole idea that love didn’t equate to time as I had perceived it for quite a while. Now when I think about it, I just might have to stick to the ideology that it does, at least for the sake of myself and to possibly avoid anymore misleading emotion. Can’t really say that the current downfall of my relationship right now is sourly the fault of my perception that maybe love could happen in a matter of a couple conversations and what felt like one’s show of their heart. It wasn’t an absolute misjudgement of my part, sad to say, life happened too. It was SHIT, it still is. I never thought that apart from situations in the like of long distance relationships or toxic partners, I’d ever feel out of emotion for a person due to issues not exactly their fault. I’m embarrassed to say that I can’t quite reveal my reasons for just yearning to end this so called relationship because it genuinely would paint a poor picture of myself. I’ve gone back and forth with myself on whether my reasoning is anyway valid to ending this and I believe in the midst of it all, I stopped feeling so strongly for him and now all that’s left is some form of dull care. The kind of care that in time fizzles out.

You might be wondering why I’ve not ended it yet. I question myself over it too. I realized that I had banked so much hope for this working out, now it just feels like a failure I don’t know how to let go of. A dead heart that I’m still trying to resuscitate. It leaves a bad taste in my tongue just having to admit that even despite thinking it was God sent, it still didn’t work out. Maybe that’s where I went wrong, I misplaced God’s unanswered prayers for one that was entirely my doing. So here I am, trying to work out how to let go of an already sank ship. In the time I’ve had to ponder over how to let go, I came to terms with the fact that I’ve grown scared. I’d secretly held out hope that it was finally no longer going to be lonely for me anymore, that I’d not have to go through life as a lone sailor. I was undoubtedly overjoyed when we started, I knew he’d slay through the thicket and climb over my walls, past the monsters both in and out of my head and through the tight locked door where I stood, ready to quit being alone. It sounds selfish, that the only thing keeping us from absolute disintegration is my fear of being alone. He undoubtedly deserves better than that. I believe in leaving things on a clean slate, I’ve never been one to carry a grudge, at least when it comes to boyfriends turn exs. My poor soul can’t stand to have someone mad at me, it’s a terrible perk. I’m aware that I’m gonna have to sever the ties, regardless of my fears. It’s all I can do to hope I will find contentment within myself and being by myself.

So yeah, with finality in my heart and my mind made up, I know I need to end this. Our so called love was virtual, it spoke and felt volumes of what we wished we would have been. Promises were made, deep words were thrown around in hope that we’d be together in an unbreakable bond. It’s also been terrifying to think of going back on my promises, promises that shouldn’t have been made at all now that I’m no longer under the haze of clouded infatuation. Truthfully a lesson to be learned not to throw around words like ‘need you‘ and ‘can’t survive without…’ around all willy nilly because as of weeks ago, neither of us could keep to our promises of need or survival for each other. The distance between us hasn’t entirely severed my affection for us, for the the short time we got to share whatever we did. I likely still hope, even against my better judgement that maybe just maybe if I’d have the soul to wait, we’d still work something out. But I need to make this final first before I can jump into anything else. It’s all I can do, to hope that it makes sense to him why I am doing this. I can’t speak for where his mind or heart lies in all this but I can hope that it at least makes a tiny bit of sense as to why this is our possible best shot. I will miss what we could have had. I’ll hurt, that’s for sure.