It might be a bit late to be calling this an afternoon affair but I was committed to already not committing to anything, I just hadn’t realized I was going to write about it.
In my deep state of melancholy, as always, I was thinking of what I want for myself for the upcoming year that’s in a couple weeks and when I thought of it sincerely, I just wanted to tell it to someone and them somewhat see it as I was envisioning it in my head. Further in, I thought of how much everyone or life in its entirety seems to expect a commitment from me for the new year, that alongside my family and anyone else who seems entitled to some part of me. So with that thought, I just decided to as well convince myself that you know what, fuck everything else for a sec and just commit to nothing, at the very least for the rest of the afternoon.
My first noncommittal plan was to not necessarily care that I have about 10 bucks in my account which if I’m being honest about, probably had a commitment it would have been used for but instead, I’ve just had fries. Fries are good. I probably should have committed that cash to doing something better, like maybe trying to see my boyfriend before the week is done but again, I just need the non commitment right now… P.s I’m officially broke now so in case anyone needed anything from me in regards to money, I’m really sticking to the course of not committing.
My second non committal was not texting anyone, inclusive of the earlier mentioned boyfriend. Relationships I’m coming to learn are not always synchronized. Me choosing to not text him isn’t because there’s a problem with us or him, I just needed the time to myself to do the most cliché thing in my books which is just wallowing. Wallow and come up with stupid ideas like non committal afternoon. Sue me!! Not committing isn’t completely deciding that I won’t do the said act, it’s just me wavering in my decision on when I will want to text him, and everybody else I guess.
My third non committal and probably the last one that I thought of was not committing to wanting to die as well as not not wanting to die. Read that again. As the kind of coward I am, my default go to thought when I have no idea what is going on with my life is always death. Morbid, I know. I probably will never die when I think it’s appropriate to for me but it helps me know that death’s there regardless. So for my non committal afternoon, I wasn’t gonna commit to either dying or not dying so I guess I was just going to survive for the afternoon which as it seems I’ve done because it’s exactly 6.52 pm when I’m writing this.
Do I feel any different for not committing to anything this afternoon, no, the answer is not at all. I feel as stranded and overly committed to things and people and it’s petrifying. I’m still committed to living because here I am writing this, writing how much I’m still not sure I’m cut out for life and its commitments. Not sure where that leaves me … but you know the real take from all this, have fries 😄, even with a dollar or ten. Fries are the shit!!
It already feels quite presumptuous of me to think I know anything at all with any sense of certainty. Besides my fraudulent feelings, I’ll go ahead and write this. I’ll write about how I think I know anything for sure but with the secret whispers at the back of my mind telling me of just how little I actually do know.
Right now, while sitted in the dark with only a lamp on, I know for sure that I’m still gaining a bearing of my life. I’m still finding my footing if I may say so. For a minute there, I didn’t feel so darn lost. I felt like for the first time in a long time, my feet were planted on the ground and I felt the feathery light touch of hope deeply seated in my soul. It’s embers still burn but I can feel them dying out. I wish to hold on to them for just a little longer. I don’t want to go back to feeling hollow because then, I’m not how much hope will ever be restored again. As I write this, I say with little conviction about gaining a bearing in my life because maybe for starters, I don’t know what a steady bearing would truly look like. I don’t know if then, I’ll have figured out what it’s like to tumble off my feet but graciously stand back up again. Will happiness feel less foreign, will joy feel less like a fabrication of my imagination or will peace feel a little less fleeting? For now, I have neither of those answers, I guess it’s part of gaining that bearing… I’m gaining a footing with shoes that didn’t always feel like they belonged on my feet.
I think for this, I can say with a little bit more conviction; I will never have everything figured out and I’m quite okay with that. I’ll probably never have anything figured out but I could be wrong. I ask a lot of questions, and I probably always will and I never seek out the answers from the world because they aren’t theirs to answer, they are mine. I think that if I ever remotely get answers to my myriad of questions, then I’ll be well on my way to having things figured out. For now, I’m still trying figure out if in this life, there’s anything for me worth being curious over. Someone’s therapist once said, “You don’t have to feel hopeful about the future, it’s enough to be curious about whatever’s coming. “ For now, curiosity is keeping me alive and maybe that’s enough for now. Like I said, figuring things out. I’ll probably never attain the best version of myself, seems like a lot of people seek that out. For me to seek that part of me, I’d have to believe it exists which the odds aren’t really in my favour.
Lastly, what I think I know for sure, whatever version of me that’s there now, might still not want to wake up every morning, might still feel absolutely lost, might still not know what the fuck is going on but, is still a sexy piece of shit 😆. Got you there didn’t I… I may be a self hating piece of shit, but at least I’m a sexy one to that. But who am I kidding..
Allow me to take a minute…might as well take it with me.
Being 23 has been a lot like that. It has been a compilation of me taking a lot of minutes. Minutes that I may or may not have had or still have the most valid of reasons as to why they were taken. As I write this now, that minute I just took was to entirely decompress the surging anxiety of trying to come up with what I would deem the right words that would sum up this post. I have a lot and I have nothing. Being twenty-three has felt like the beginning of life and the edge of death all wrapped up in one scantily bow. To reassure me more than you, my reader, it is best I make it known that this will be a telltale sign of just how all over the place being this age has been for me.
I presume that had I known being 23 would have been like a free fall off a rollercoaster, I genuinely would have been fine skipping through it all together. But we both kinda know that it would have been a failed mission from the start. I am still 23 for those of you who may be wondering and I still have a month and a few weeks to go before I can otherwise say I no longer belong to this clusterfuck of an age. It is in these past ten months that I have felt no better than an invalid whose sole purpose has been to merely exist and fight the reigns of suicidality. And I quote, ‘’ To have no known purpose in life, is to seek a defined purpose in death ‘’. It is at this age that I have sought out a purpose in life but immensely still feel lost in a maze of how exactly to play out the beginning aspects of the said purpose. Just before I began to write this, I have been overcome with an immense fear that maybe what I have mapped out as my purpose, may actually not be it. The thought itself was whether what I think is my purpose isn’t in alignment with what is God’s purpose for me; it is an absolutely terrifying thought to have. At 23, figuring out a purpose is all I seem to have achieved with no laid-up plan on how to begin.
I am a very complex human being. Patience isn’t a favoured virtue of mine. Being 23 has tested this virtue vehemently. Straight out of college and my life, as complicated as it has been this far was meant to have a meaningful trajectory. I was meant to at least have the mental capacity to distinguish between my feelings as a 23-year-old going through a beginner’s life crisis and my mind’s trudge through having a mental illness. To say I still don’t have a distinguishable balance between the two would be putting it mildly. It is quite a dilemma. My sister is often my constant reminder that this part of being at this very age at which life seems not to have a designated direction makes it the most basic aspect of experiencing a beginner’s life crisis. She keeps insisting that it is perfectly fine that I don’t have my shit together despite the fact that I have been spending the last year and a half smoking cigarettes and sleeping at six in the morning; which I should state will be the case again tonight as it is already dawn. It has been hard to contend with my feelings that any part of my routine for the past year, most especially since turning a year older is supposedly normal for anyone in this transition from college. I can’t help but think that maybe my lack of any progression in life has been due to the definite failure of my mind to function in a remotely less ill manner. For me, struggling mentally has become the definition of who I am. I cannot begin to place where my depression and/or anxiety start or where it indefinitely ends. Like I said, a scantily wrapped up bow.
I wish there was a long list of things I could say that being this age has happened for me besides the greatest existential crisis of my not-so-long life. It is now I have wondered just how wrong my mind might be. I pride myself on how in tune I am with the subjective nature of psychology, it is what I will it to be as my purpose in life. It is in this same nature that I can’t help but wonder whether all that I may have thought to be the real underlying issue was actually just the beginning of a very tumultuous journey in my mental health. These ladies and gentlemen are what it is like to be a hypochondriac. To question if you are a sitting duck for an unidentified mental illness that is yet to fully flourish just because you are at the prime age at which it emerges. Again, as I said, I am a complex and highly complicated 23-year-old girl.
And finally, to be 23 has been to experience a deep-sated sense of isolation. Before this age, I wasn’t generally a social person but in the past couple of months, my need to be away from everyone has been incessant. I have intentionally stayed away from friends and family in the wake of very chaotic feelings.
1. I am grateful for my father and my sister who are both alive and doing well.
2. I am grateful for I have a shelter to sleep in and food to eat.
3. I am grateful that I have bed despite its discomfort. I am still grateful.
4. I am grateful for my family both nuclear and extended who are always there for me when I need them and who come through for my family in times of need.
5. I am grateful for finishing school and doing so while passing my exams greatly.
6. I am grateful for my health and both the health of my family and friends.
7. I am grateful for the chance I got at an internship. It was my first chance and I am grateful that it may go through.
8. I am grateful for this blog that reminds always that I am a talented writer and will only get better from here.
9. I am grateful my sister’s support and everything she does to keep me going. The words of encouragement, the pep talks, the feeding and everything. I cannot fully express how grateful I am for her.
10. Finally, I am grateful for life. On many occasions, it is easy for me to go down the rabbit hole that is suicidal thinking. I struggle often to find the meaning of life for myself but I know I need to constantly remember to be grateful for the life I have.
11. I am most grateful for my mental health. It was in the gutter and few months ago and doing better now. I am grateful for the antidepressants I have access to every month to get better.
I feel like I have to make this clear, I am not big on new year resolutions. I cannot recall a time in the past years where I have found myself creating resolutions at the beginning of any new year. I am still at the point at which the new year is a mere continuation of the last year, most especially during the transition from new years’ eve to the beginning of the first day of a new year.
This year though might probably be the first year I decide on having a resolution because why the hell not. With no substantial reason, I will have only one resolution for myself. I choose to have one merely because it is a start.
Being a plus size girl
For those who might not know this, I am a plus size girl. For the better part of being one, I have not always embraced it as a nature. It has always sort of felt like an inadequacy. It recently came to my attention that I actually no longer mind being plus size. I have to admit, it seems to bother those around me that I am a bigger girl than most. I wish I had the understanding of why, but genuinely, I would prefer they didn’t shove their opinions on my weight down my throat.
Accepting that I am big is one thing, being comfortable overall about it is still something I am working on. I try to derive inspiration from following other plus size women online and it does help in building the general confidence I need to eventually be okay fully as a plus size girl. It has taken me quite a lot of pep talks to myself to get me to wear a dress that compliments my body and it wasn’t until this weekend at a gathering where I was absolutely unconscious of the fact that I was in a dress while out in public. I was comfortable and that was all that seemed to matter which if I may, I would consider that a good start.
My new year resolution
My resolution for the year is to grow into my acceptance of my body while loving it as it is. This means taking better care of it, appreciating it, affirming it and everything else that feels good towards it. I want to wear dresses more and look stunning in them. I want to wear hugging jeans that show my curves just enough to still feel comfortable in them. I want to feel confident with my triple D sized cups and rolled up belly. All those parts of myself that were shunned before, I want to show them, love. They deserve to be loved and appreciated. Therefore that is my one resolution for the year.
This is for those unwanting of the new year. It is for those whose uncertainties in life didn’t magically disappear just because the new year is here. It is also for those whose sadness didn’t escape them when the clock hit midnight. These little words are for you.
I haven’t felt much of anything in a brief moment. When in regard to feelings, I wanna believe that my thought trajectory is always leaning on happier feelings, feelings of light and joy. Sometimes maybe even a little bit of peace. It is the new year and I can’t seem to feel the light and love going on around the world. Do I necessarily think it’s my fault that I feel forlorn at the start of a year that is magically supposed to bring cheer, no, not really? I understand hope and faith in wanting this time around to be different but what for us who can’t seem to grasp those little motions of hoping for another year of change. I read somewhere that sometimes all in one year, one is capable of living three years in one. Can’t blame me for feeling scared that this new year might in turn bring me three years instead of one.
This is for the unprepared. These words are for the sceptic people not sure of themselves enough to find joy in the new year. This is for those still carrying remnants of the day ago year that still lingers. For those who feel their losses so immensely, the beginning of a new year would be like erasing the memory of the loved one no longer there. This is for those who would rather not sit through doing a recap of their past year for it would mean scaling back old wounds. All of this is for us who will take it a day at a time as always.
MerryChristmas guys. I know this will go up probably three days after Christmas but what the heck, it is the thought that counts. Hoping that your Christmas holiday has been full of cheer and wonderous adventure. Mine, maybe not all that adventurous but it has been full of cheer. I was able to spend time with family who is beyond the circle of just my father and sister. To be quite honest, I was uncertain of what my feelings were on having cousins over because quite frankly, I am not the biggest people person. I have very little energy for myself, sometimes offering it to others can be quite a tedious task for me. All in all, it has been a fun three days of cheer and merry-making.
I appreciate it immensely that I got to experience and enjoy the little bit of Christmas cheer that I got to have. I have to admit that since December started, I have not been feeling much of the Christmas spirit and it did not absolutely help with the fact that there stood an air of uncertainty on whether there was going to be much of a Christmas at all. Since my dad retired, the financial state of my family has been hanging on a loose thread hence the air of uncertainty. Graciously, everything panned out for the better and Christmas has been great non the less.
Over the month of August, among the other many books I got to read, I came across a book that I consider myself quite lucky to have found. I believe the book is a memoir, I am certain that it is a memoir, written by an author named Lori Gottlieb. The title of the book is Maybe You Should Talk to Someone. When I first came across it, I wasn’t entirely sure it was a book I would fully be invested in. I knew it entailed matters concerning therapy and I was a bit iffy on whether it would be artistically motivating to read. I can say with certainty now that this book is a lot more than I anticipated. I read it gradually, but loved every bit of it, including how expressive the author wrote. I am genuinely glad I got to read it to completion.
Without giving out too much of it, the plot of the book is something that quite captivated me. I learned a lot and it gave me quite the insight. I say this from the perspective of someone who has mildly studied psychology, ( I say mildly because all I have had the chance to study it, is through a diploma and if I am being honest, I still consider myself quite the amateur in regards to it). Before I can delve into my own relation to psychology, I just want to elaborate on how insightful it was reading MaybeYou Should Talk to Someone. Insightful in that, it was able to bring light into the subject of therapy from both a therapist’s opinion and that of a client’s opinion. It sort of normalized seeking professional therapeutic assistance, to those who already had sort it out and equally to those who hadn’t. I found that quite wonderful about the book. Besides just normalizing therapy itself, it too humanized therapists as more than just their professions. The author who is a psychotherapist takes us down the journey of being a therapist as well as seeking one out for herself. I found that quite great because, speaking from a personal opinion, one can be quick to perceive therapists as invincible. It is easily misjudged that therapists, being what their profession entails, are too strong of human beings to go through similar motions as those of their clients. On the off chance that they do experience similar hardships, the perception is that they are equipped to somewhat counsel themselves out of those said hardships. I should clarify that it does not work like that at all. As a psychology student, it is insisted enough that therapists need their own therapists for themselves. It’s entirely a chained link of therapists seeking out therapy from each other. That aspect of the book was quite important for me. I applauded the book mainly for that, besides all the other wonderful aspects of it that were brought out.
If someone came to me and asked me if I would advise them on seeking out help from a therapist or counsellor, or even a psychiatrist, my outright first answer would be yes. It is entirely important to give time and care to one’s mind as is given to one’s body. It would be instinctual for me to say yes as my first answer, but I owe you the honesty that it will not be technically a walk in the park. This is from a very biased opinion, this is my opinion as a client who’s been to therapy, it is not the opinion of a psychology student. This is also not meant to be a discouragement towards anyone out to seek therapeutic help, not at all. Therapy is great, wonderful even, but it will require a lot of you. Some parts of you will be required, parts that you may not be quite yet aware of.
My first experience of professional therapy was with my school counsellor in college. If I am being truthfully honest, it was long overdue. I want to be very clear that when I refer to professional therapy or counselling, I mean it as therapy from a professionally trained counsellor or psychologist. One who has studied in that field and is not a self-appointed counsellor. Anyone can give advice, not everyone can offer therapy. Just needed to be clear on that. I am strictly talking about a professional psychologist.
It was quite a big step for me to reach out to the school counsellor. I wasn’t the most approachable person, and neither was I the most approaching. At school, I knew well to never be too personal with anyone. Actually, if my memory serves me right, I was incited by my sister to seek out the counsellor because my sister thought of me then as a ticking time bomb. I was convinced that I wanted a baby, ( major eye roll) and I was only twenty years old. Then, it felt like such an urgency for me, like it was the only thing that I was missing, and it would somehow complete my life. I was quite naïve then because even now, I am not remotely ready for a child. Therapy was able to show that to me. I later learned that I was overcompensating for something entirely different. Anyway, my first take on therapy was good. I found solace and empathy that I had never quite experienced before. It was as it should have been, it was therapeutic for me and I was able to go through therapy for the next three years I had in college. It took a bit of a turn for me because the relationship between me and the school counsellor progressed to a very close friendship which in therapy is regarded as a dual relationship. To be able to maintain the levels of professionalism, it is frowned up to have any other sort of relationship outside the client/counsellor relationship. It is perceived that if the boundaries are severed, the therapist will not be able to give enough credibility in her profession hence why it is important that one seeks out a different therapist when boundaries are crossed.
For me, I wouldn’t say she entirely quit being my counsellor, and I didn’t seek therapy elsewhere. She transformed into a guide to whom I sort out counsel and advice. Now she is practically like my best friend who is also my Yoda.
Therapy was able to open me up in ways I probably would never have had the chance to before. It even motivated me into being a better student in psychology. Sometime last year, I was able to go back to the professional context of therapy with an entirely new therapist who was just that, my therapist. I only got to see her for about a month before I stopped. The experience of it was quite different than my first which leads me to my next piece of advice, you don’t have to be stuck in a therapy that you don’t feel is working for you. It is absolutely okay to decide on changing your current therapist and seeking out one who best fits you. I understand for those who have been to therapy that it may sometimes feel like a betrayal to your therapist if one considers leaving, but it is best to remember that it is your wellbeing that comes first. There will be no hard feelings from your therapist.
From the standpoint of being a soon to be counsellor, I have only had so little experience as one. I did my first internship as a counsellor at a hospital and I genuinely disliked every moment of it. I was extremely underqualified and my supervisor thought it best to leave me alone on most occasions to tend to actual clients who needed therapy. I often hope that the clients I got to see were able to seek out a second opinion from a more qualified professional. Over time, I have not had the chance to be a counsellor since I finished my diploma. Let’s just say I have been putting it off for nearly a year now. I have convinced myself that I am not ready and I am not certain when I ever will be. On multiple occasions, I have had some serious self-doubt over whether psychology is even the right course for me. Most of the self-doubt best comes from the fact that I am on most occasions, a better client than I am a psychologist. I am two sides of the same coin. Reading this book sort of gave me a perspective of what it is like to be on both sides of the spectrum. The author delves into her own therapy and how difficult it was at first to not feel like her own therapist wasn’t doing enough for her as she thought she would towards her own clients. I am well aware of how that feels because it was in that exact position that I quit seeing my last therapist. Every day, I go through it in my head whether psychology was the best choice for a career. I knew I wanted to be a psychologist when I was in high school. I knew that I needed to be able to give some form of help to those who were like me then, to kids who had never quite felt like they were ‘’normal’’. I believe that I still want to do that, even despite the self-doubt. I still very much want to help people who struggle with their mental health. All I can do is hope that soon, I will get to offer that help.
To finish this off, I would definitely recommend reading Maybe You Should Talk to Someone. It is a wonderful, insightful, inspiring, beautiful and enlightening read. Lori Gottlieb is a wonderful author from whom I would love to learn more from, especially as a psychotherapist. Be sure to check it out. One can access it on the e-reader called Z library.
Some quotes I picked up from the book that I absolutely loved…
“ we have to let go of the fantasy of creating a better past.”
” When the present falls apart, so does the future we had associated with it. ”
Do you ever have truths about yourself that aren’t exactly known to others but are quite obvious to you? Well, if you do, I do too… Some are always there, like some permanent life fixture that doesn’t change. Others, are new every other time. Without further embarking on the specifics of what type of truths I’m talking about, allow me to share a few of which have been skimming through my thoughts for the past while.
Oh, and by the way, now I will refer to them as Naked truths …hopefully, it will make sense along the way why I refer to them as so.
Naked truth no.1
I don’t think I have friends anymore. Be rest assured that I am not saying this in some search for a sense of pity or sympathy. It is partially my doing that I am not acquainted with others besides my immediate family. I must confess that I am not the most tolerant of people especially if there is not much to tolerate about them. Pardon me for sounding like a bitch; it is not entirely to mean that I am surrounded by intolerable people, I just don’t do well in the area of creating and maintaining relations with others. This is especially when I most often don’t feel like people genuinely do want to maintain long-lasting friendships with me that carry some form of bond. I have had friends here and there, a few acquaintances, but none who have stuck around long enough. It has always been seasonal relations that are a matter of circumstance which is fine, not everything is technically meant to last. All I am truthfully saying is that I have a lot of temporary friendships and they always never feel solid, if I may use this term lightly. So yeah, that is one of the recent naked truths that recently dawned on me. I wouldn’t say that I am exactly disturbed by that truth. On most days, I am comfortable with the little cluster of people I get to interact with every once in a while. I also, as I admitted earlier, feel like a partial reason for this fact is because I don’t make much effort in being a friend to others. I admittedly tend to be caught up in my own mind and nonfunctional life that I easily get exhausted having to mingle with others outside the walls of my life and mind.
Disclaimer: If anyone who happens to read this first paragraph gets offended by it over the meagre chance that they actually do consider themselves my friend, I am immensely sorry and maybe we can catch up sometime when either of us is somewhat ready to communicate. Cheers mate.
Naked truth no.2
I am a wimp at trying out this thing called living. Like my history may show, I am more of a survivor/ exister more than I am a live’r. Death is often painted in my thoughts as some form of escape from having to go through the day to day agonies of life. Before this turns out sounding a lot like some version of suicidal ideation [probably slightly is], let me elaborate.
Do I want to die sometimes? Yes. Do I always want to die? No. Is the idea of death as an escape romanticized in my head a little too often cause I am a wimp at life? Absolutely.
When it’s hard to conceptualize that life isn’t meant to be easy on most days, I struggle with myself over why I have to live through it. I find difficulty within myself over the fact that instead of simply ceasing to exist, what is expected of me is that I am supposed to trudge through the hardship, tumbledown, pick myself up and move through it with showing just enough weakness, but not too much. In those moments when life has dealt me a hard one, it is usually a strain for my mind to not want to jump ship. It is like my mind, loses all ability to conjure a better way out which is very cowardly of me now as I listen to myself say it out loud. I never said my mind was strong. With my history of things, it is quite obvious that mental strength isn’t exactly a stronghold of mine. I allude to this to why I think I might not be the one to live till fifty, perseverance sure doesn’t sound like a stronghold of mine but who’s to say how strong I will be in the future. With the uncertainty of things, I may as well surprise myself. I may probably survive all this while still believing that I was never quite cut out for it. So for now, I choose not to be too worried about it, at least in the hope that I’ll keep on surviving long enough to live somewhere in my life.
Naked truth no.3
I have mentioned before in previous writings that I have occasionally been a smoker. Quite recently actually, I would admit that I went beyond the limits and became a light smoker. When I started smoking, it turned into quite an enigma for me. It was something I picked late last year and might I say, I arguably don’t really regret it. It didn’t necessarily serve the intended purpose that I had initially thought it would, but it worked for me somehow. I will never forget the first night that I had my first real cigarette. For starters, I considered having my first cigarette mainly because I thought I would look cool, being a female and smoking. You would understand what I mean if I could paint a better picture for you outside of my mind. It was a cheesy reason, I know…no need to roll your eyes too hard. I had thought of it for a while but never did I quite get around to trying it. Finally, when I did get around to doing it, I was alone in my sister’s apartment and I felt like there was never a better time than the present. I might have convinced myself that I needed to unwind and calm down a little, from what exactly, I don’t remember. It was quite the experience and truth be told, I did feel quite calm afterwards. I could have imagined it, or it may actually have worked. I remember smoking that first night in the house on the couch while directly facing the mirror in the living room. I was so enthralled by seeing myself pull out smoke from the cigarette and then slowly hold it in for a second or two before releasing it to the air. Over the next few weeks, I smoked at least two cigarettes a night. It was in those moments when I felt invincible to a degree. Like nothing much could hurt me, as long as I could smoke it away into the night. It was a mild sense of power that I had never quite felt. I liked it. On the downside, I began to smell like cigarette smoke and my lips were turning a shade too dark for my liking. Then over time, I stopped it for a while, picked up the habit again later and now I stopped again. Now, like four days ago, I bought myself one cigarette thinking that maybe my intolerance for it had sort of reduced …I was incredibly wrong, the moment I lit up and took a go at it, I was beyond nauseated, I could hardly stand it. I am still working out what theories could explain to me now over why I can’t in the least stand the smell of a lit cigarette. Maybe, I just don’t consider it so cool anymore.
For now, those are just but a few naked truths of myself. I can assure you, I’ll be revealing more in time. Maybe it could become a segment of mine. We will just have to wait and see, now won’t we.
About three or so months ago, I started reading books on an e-reader on my phone, not that I wasn’t already a reader before but the app on which I previously used to read on crushed and hasn’t been back up since. So upon discovery of this new site, I was able to start reading a lot more and quite vastly than I did before. I was ecstatic, to say the least. Reading is such an essential part of me, just as it is with writing. After I got the hang of reading again, I decided that to be able to maintain a steady wave of my reading, I’d put out a list of books that I would have to complete at the end of every month, regardless of whether I got distracted or not. Being the way I am, this was perfect for me since I tend to easily sometimes take my sweet time while reading which slows down my pace on how many books I get to read. Anyway, I had been scheduling my reads for the past two months which has even allowed me to put in more reads over the month than I had intended.
Since I started on my monthly schedule of reading, I have read some really wonderful and inspiring books that made me wish I was in a book club of sorts that would allow me to delve into other people’s reviews of the books. Some books made me cry, others struck a chord and some others made me see a few things in a new light. I relish getting to the end of a good book because it just boosts my yearning for reading more of similar good/great books. Since for now, I still don’t have a book club, I thought that maybe instead of just moving on from one book to the other, I’d express through writing what certain books make me feel or how I related to a degree with the said book. It wouldn’t be a full review but just my take on what the books I read leave me with. Like an interaction between the book and me. Just to put it out there, my favourite genre of books always have a touch of mental health in them. For those who may not be aware, a lot of my life has revolved and still revolves around mental health so I quite regard it as very personal and integral to me. Reading more on it through either fiction or memoirs from authors has always given me a sense of connection and solace that my struggles with mental issues isn’t foreign. It has been a support system that is quite unmatched for me for which I am grateful. Therefore, going forward, I hope to be able to share here more of what I read and how it inspired my thoughts, my emotions and my ideas too.
Title of the book; All this time by Mikki Daughtry and Rachael Lippincott
I read this book over the month of September and it was a great read. I definitely would recommend this book, most especially to the readers who were great fans of the author’s similar books, Five Feet Apart and The Lucky List. Also for readers who enjoyed the books, The Perks of Being a Wallflower and The Fault In Our Stars. I am hoping that whatever information I give on this book does not act as a spoiler for those who may seek an interest in reading this book. I actually don’t recall exactly how I came across it because I am constantly on the search for books, most especially on Pinterest since I am able to level down to specifics of the types of books I am usually in search of. For this book, it was at first a slightly slow read but not slow enough that you wouldn’t want to complete it. I was hoping for it not to be a tragic read because books that have an endless array of tragedy, I never quite finish. My anxiety always tends to have me lean on books that aren’t too tragic or those that seem to never have happy ends. But for this book, it proved to be quite worth the finish. It has a twist about it that at the beginning, a reader won’t quite detect. Overall, as the book nears its end, it will captivate you and intrigue you. It will hold your mind and bits of your heart captive. It won’t be a read you’ll be able to put down for another day, you will want to see it till the end and you’ll later be thankful that you did.
Without giving too much out about the book, it got me thinking of the fantasies that I as Dawn had as a child. I cannot entirely rule out whether some of those fantasies aren’t still there. I feel as though sometimes, as human beings, our instincts or hopes held out, allow for certain fantasies we might have had as children growing up to continue being part of us. For example, despite my not so great dating history, I still hold out hope that my fantasy of my ultimate perfect guy will still come to flourish. The odds aren’t on my side in regards to the outcome of this happening but it doesn’t change that I still secretly fantasize that it will. It especially is quite bleak right now because I don’t have the best outlook on dating or even marriage. If you asked me, I am 99% positive that I will never get married, it seems to turn out to be more of a trap for either gender involved. No offence to those who are married and are flourishing, good for you. As for myself, I am not sold on it. I for one don’t entirely believe that there is someone out there who will deem worthy to spend the rest of my life with. I know how that probably sounds, extremely self-centred and a bit, okay maybe a lot obnoxious but I mean it. It is hard for me to believe that someone out there will be the yin to my yang. That we will somehow be in sync with each other despite our differences and odds. But what do I know, most of you would say… I am 23 years old anyway, what experience do I have? I admit, my opinion stands the chance to change over time but it also might not. I believe that one does not start to learn when it is believed they are of “prime age”. What is this standard prime age where one’s opinion stands a chance of being valid and expressable? There is no such standard prime age, or at least I don’t believe there is…
Another such fantasy I have is that maybe, even despite the odds of it ever possibly happening, I will amass as much wealth as is equivalent to that of Kylie Jenner. I know, even when I say it out loud, it sounds ridiculous and such a cliché. Quite embarrassing even… Allow me to explain why this is even a fantasy to start with. For one, I actually take to the high regard that Kylie and I are exactly one year apart in age. She and I share a birthday and she is exactly a year older than I am. For most people, that shouldn’t even matter. For instance, I have a friend from college who shares his birthday with Queen Beyonce but I haven’t heard him trying to amass a similar form of stardom or wealth therefore who am I to want to match King Kylie. It is an absurd fantasy but again, it is my fantasy. The odds are greatly stacked against me, I am aware. I guess some fantasies are meant to come true while some are better yet left as just fantasies.
p.s I hope that anyone who gets to read this has the chance to check out the book All This Time by Mikkie Daughtry.
If I can, I will put a link at the bottom that will hopefully allow a reader to access the book from the site e-reader called Z library which is where I get my books from. https://book4you.org/book/9039712/2a2789