I am not doing too well today. I am currently in  my last year (plus an extra semester) of study. However, I am in the freshman general education courses, so I am now taking “stress management.” It’s THE best.

Don’t get me wrong. I can see how this class is of good use, and of great substance to people starting off college, and a part of me wishes that I would have taken it my first year. On the other hand, I am a recovering bulimic. I have had bulimia on and off for six years. There was a point where I would weigh myself five times a day and if the scale did not hit a certain number, then that was that. I was going to throw my guts up.

These days, I have been making the journey to a healthier lifestyle. I no longer throw up (manually), due to the help and love of my wonderful boyfriend who supports me and unconditionally cares for me. I no longer own a scale, and I no longer have toxic people in my life who influence those behaviors. These have proven to be great challenges, and there are so many tempting triggers to avoid. One of the triggers is fitness testing .

So, what I am truly getting at is that I had to weigh myself for the first time and see where I was at on the fitness level compared to the rest of my classmates. A true nightmare, right? RIGHT.

Whenever we started, my professor said that they were all just numbers, and that’s okay, if you have never had any issue doing these types of things. Just numbers…they don’t rate you as a person. No one is better or worse than anyone….but we all know that’s not true. I remember being mocked in middle school about how I was built, and then it all came together as a whirlwind of emotion that eventually led to eating disorders and mental health issues. People will start to hear you after you have repeated hateful things to them.

Anyways, the scores that I got on my fitness test ranked me as obese. That word. OBESE. It’s the worst possibly thing that someone can be. Isn’t that true? To me, yes. You can be mean, ugly, sarcastic, but if you’re obese WATCH OUT. You are the worst of the worst!

Unfortunately, this is how things are for me. After that class, I came straight home to a lovely dinner cooked by my favorite person, and I was okay. I think that having someone to help patch you up is incredible. I think having anything to help you is incredible. It isn’t necessarily a person, but it can be an animal, book, etc.

I just really loathe how numbers can make someone feel successful or like a failure. If you are healthy and a good person, then you are okay. This is my mantra. It is okay.


A Little Life

The book “A Little Life” by Hanya Yanagihara changed MY life.This text is about a group of four fellas and about their lives through and throughout college. Two of them fall in love, and then the impossible happens. However, it is not impossible. Is it true that someone’s life can be this incredibly awful? Where are the miracles, where is the fairy tale?

This book is so appropriately titled, because it is exactly what it is with the innards of the work. It is a little bit of life, the twists and turns are nothing that you can expect, because that is exactly how life is. Jude, the main character, goes through so much abuse, turmoil, and grief that I had to put the book down. The character development in this book is insane. How can I feel so connected and empathetic towards a person that I have never met before.



This book is by far one of the best pieces of literature that I have ever read.I find it essential for us to grow as humans.

Applied Study

This is the happiest that I have ever been. However, this happiness has not come without great sacrifice. I have lost many friends that I thought to be true, unsubscribed to a toxic organization, yet I have gained a wonderful boyfriend along with  a new future. Feelings are tricky. Even though I have been quite joyful lately, I still feel deep and sudden sadness. I suppose that this is a side effect of clinical depression.

No one ever tells you how genuinely bad you are going to feel. Well, I take that back. They will, but I never truly understood someones pain until I went through the same thing. Isn’t that selfish? I think that it is where true empathy comes from.

In my music classes, we have been learning a lot about perception. Do we all see the same shade of green, do we all hear the same, are all feelings the only feelings, or have been labeled and taught all of our lives that these are the labels and standards to live by. There is so much more to learn than what people expect you to.

I am so thankful for having made the decisions I have today based on my perceptions and humanly potentials. Currently, I feel like I am in the exact moment that I need to be in.

Getting “There.”

For as long as I can remember, I have heard the phrases “I want to be happy, ” “the journey to happiness,” and “you create your own happiness.” Happiness is entirely overrated and more often than not misconstrued for a synonym for feeling fulfilled or content. I’d rather not feel one emotion continually forever. I like that I have an extensive spectrum and scale of intense emotions.

This past year, word got back to me that I cannot control my emotions. First of all, fuck you. Second of all, I think that being able to suppress one’s emotions is a defense mechanism. I’m exhausted with the never-ending need to cater to other people. Everything is offensive to someone.

I care a lot about myself. However, I would be failing myself if I wanted to “just be happy.” I feel like for the first time in a very long while, I am okay. I am okay with who I am, with how I interact with others, with what I eat, and with how I live.

For the past five years, I have been struggling with an eating disorder and it has taken me this long to be okay with eating a meal and not making myself sick. Instead of envisioning how much better I would feel if I hadn’t ate all of the food I binged on, I imagine all the food in my stomach having a par-tay. This helps me to make food my approachable and lovable for me to consume. I owe most of this progress to my wonderful fella, who makes me feel like a million dollars every day.

Overall, it has been a long trek to feeling okay. I still relapse into the habitual routine of darkness that my mind lays out for me, but there is light seeping through the black.




Good Day.

Does coffee make a difference?

After about a month of no caffeine, I succumbed to the desires of my heart this morning. I brewed a hot mug of caramel-rich, living-life juice. I have been a little shaky today, but that is normal…one of the side effects of living the dream, I suppose.

Such great things happen when I hook up to this coffee induced euphoria. My outlook on life brightens up, and I am actually excited to be majoring in an art form and a magic that awakens the senses.

It’s a good day.

Thank you, cup of Joe.


Hearing the washing machine and the dishwasher murmur gently in my ear is one of the most relaxing noises I know. Maybe it is because I have accomplished something for the day, or maybe because it reminds me of home. I love the whirring of the machines doing their jobs and living the life they were created for.

(Is everything a metaphor in my mind? Yeah. It is. I am a literal person when the context calls for it, but I believe in a deeper meaning most of the time).

Sound has always been something that I relate well to. Sound connects me to memories. I understand because I have heard. Lately, I have learned that I am able to block out sound…all sounds except for the voice in my head.

The voice in my head goes away when I can focus on reading. The voice becomes nice and mannered. It sneaks back when all is quiet and I provoke it with thoughts of my future. Maybe it is not so much a voice as it is a presence. This presence is a comet of darkness emitted through my electrons in my brain. It is almost as if the darkness is shocking my mind.

Sound is good.

Up and at ‘Em

What will you get out of bed for?

I’ve been wondering recently what to do with my life and I can’t seem to get an answer. Currently, I am studying music education. However, I love language, literature, and humor.

I love kids.

I also want to be excited for my job.

I also want to be in a good place mentally, physically, and emotionally.

I would like to make money.

Recently, I’ve been making a list of the things that I know I enjoy. As if a routine, I forget who I am at least once a month. I do not know what I like, I know exactly what I dislike, and I seem to be holding my breath waiting for the an event to bring me back to life. I am not living right now. I am technically “living,” but my soul is not being inspired, my heart not fueled. I am, essentially, burnt out.

Luckily, I have not started doing “hard” drugs…yet.


Envied, Doubted, and Pressured

Emotions are inevitable. Are feelings? I could argue that emotions and feelings are directly correlated. On the other hand, is it possible to choose to feel and to choose to ignore? Can I say to an emotion that “I do not want to feel you today.” Is this something I can control? Every Tuesday, I am pressured into focusing and choosing my feelings. Why can’t I be free?

I think that many times feelings and emotions are thought of as the same thing. I think that it is true that they are very similar. I think certain emotions have increased rates of feeling attached to them. Happiness is like sunshine and sadness is like darkness. Does the sun choose to peek out through the clouds, or does it simply wait for the clouds to pass? I think that certain emotions are more “controllable” than others.




I have a mental illness. This is something that I recognize and it is something that I think I have blocked out for long enough. I have uncontrollably felt sad and anxious for most of my life. Environment has been a root of this disorder. I go from feeling happy, inspired, even motivated and in the next few moments, I am spiraling down. I have friends who I am happy to see at first and then I have a voice in my head saying twisted, confusing stories about them that feel like reality. I have extremely vivid dreams that mislead me beyond belief. At a surface level, I am okay. It is a different story when it comes to the depth of my being.

My brain sparks with distraction. Everything, every little word, every glance…I am not focused. I am worried about the next minutes, hours, days, and what they will hold. I am grasping on to my pebble repeating the mantra “be here, be here, be here.”

“You are too hard on yourself,” my counselor says.

Why should I be soft?



The Swaying of Perfection

I am twenty years old, but I am an old twenty. Basically, I’m 38…on the inside. I enjoy a mug of something warm and opaque silence. I like soft surfaces and tender expressions.I do not enjoy abruptly callous and arrogant authority. I do not like to be negatively reinforced and expected to have a successful outcome. I do not like being named things that I am not.

Being pushed to the limits on a daily basis invites consequences and mental illness into your life. If you have seen the movie “Whiplash,” well that is an accurate representation of the life I am currently living. Music has always been a part of my life. You could say that music is my life. Why do I want to give it up? Could I do that? I can do whatever I want. Music makes my brain spark in the best and worst ways imaginable. It hurts me, it builds me up, it drives me to a dark, dismal, delightful place. It is the most wonderful, yet abusive relationship that I have ever had in my entire life…and I’ve had a rape inclined boyfriend. I blame music for a lot of things that fall on the feelings leading up to a successful lesson, which I feel like I never have, or even a decent practice session. “You are a failure.” “Stop trying.” The voice in my head is the most cynical part of the journey. I’ve had negativity in my brain since I began. The pressure to be perfect, the pressure to be the best.


I am good for me. I am good enough for me. I do not want to be great, I do not want to be perfect, I want to be good enough for me.