I'm not listening to you, dormouse. My head has been fed enough.

THOUGHTS WHILE HIKING IN THE ALPINE LAKES WILDERNESS LAST WEEKEND:

Tra-la-la-la-la, I love living in Washington! Everything is so beautiful! And COLORFUL! HAHAHAHAHAHA!! Because it's FALL! YESSSSSSSS!!

There's something vibrating behind my eyeballs. Walk it off. It's nothing.

Hm. It seems different in these woods. Wait, where am I? No. I know. I remember.

Just breath normal. I think I'm gonna pass out. No I'm not. Maybe sit down right here.

PERSON! OH JESUS, LOOK NORMAL!

*wide-eyed look of terror directed toward oncoming hiker* "....hhhhhiiiiiiiiii....ha....haha...."

I'm gonna sit down by this waterfall. It's pretty. That's good.

Goddamn this waterfall is fucking intense. It's practically happening to ME right now.

It is. The waterfall is HAPPENING TO ME.

We should go back down. We definitely shouldn't go any further. I'd feel better if we went back down.

OK. Fine. Lets just hike up to where the sun is. Good idea. Everything will be better there.

I can't talk anymore. It isn't a good idea for anyone to hear me talk right now. I just need to write a letter. Then I'll feel better. Forever.


Dear Psychadelic Mushrooms:


This isn't easy for me to do, but I believe we've reached the end of our road. It's time to say goodbye.
Come on, there there. Don't get upset. We both know that things have changed, and we need to do what's best for ourselves, and for each other.
It's not like what we had wasn't real, right? It was beautiful, and magical! Some of the most fun times I've ever had were with YOU! Our first few years together were unforgettable. You brought me closer to my friends, gave me new perpective, taught me to appreciate nature in a way I'd never thought possible! You've made me laugh harder than anyone, ever! I mean, really! 'Til my face and stomach hurt, 'til tears streamed down my face, 'til I almost peed my pants!
Shut up. If it's less than half the bladder-full it counts as ALMOST.
Anyway.
It's like we're grasping for something we once had; trying to re-live the past, ya know? But we just can't. We've outgrown eachother. The last few times we've been together it's been clear to me that things aren't the same as they used to be. There isn't the same care-free laughter, nor the mind-opening revelations. Instead they're more like prolonged states of confusion, little bouts of amnesia, mixed with the loss of physical control, which usually leads to some kind of panic attack.
This relationship has become....Exhausting.
Now, it isn't all your fault. Even though you have come on a little strong and caught me off guard a couple times, I'll take most of the responsibility for this. I don't know how or why I changed, but I did. I guess I just have a lot more to think about now than when we were first together, and I can't handle the intensity of our union anymore. I'm being forced to move on.
Don't despair. I know there's still A LOT of other people out there that will love you just the way you are. They always have, and they always will. You'll be OK. We'll both be OK.

R.I.P Psychadelic Mushrooms.
I'll always remember the good times.

There's a million things to be, you know that there are

One of my Psych professors in college once stated that the uprise of anxiety and depression disorders in American culture over the last 50 years could be directly related to the rise in options we are presented with in our daily lives in our advanced industrialized society.

For example, in the 1940's the only cereals that were widely available were Grape Nuts, Shredded Wheat, Corn Flakes, Kix, and Captain Crunch.* There's your 5 options. Pick one.

But now when you go to the store there's an entire aisle dedicated to cereal. There's cereal in boxes, and in bags. Fruity, chocolatey, and marshmallow-y. There's rival brands' versions of the same cereal with different shapes, colors, and prices. Some are on sale, some never are, and some will be if you grab the coupon out of that little automatic coupon dispenser thing. There's corn or whole grain, there's sugar or sugar free, and it's all part of a balanced breakfast.

With all of the trials and stuggles the average adult has to deal with on a daily basis, now you have to spend like ten minutes figuring out what used to be a split second decision. Jesus. What the fuck DO I want for breakfast?

Judging by the way I've felt the last few years as a fully independent young woman, I have to agree with my Psych professor. With all of the other struggles with maintaining finances, relationships, health, work, home/car maintainence, plus trying to be productive with my time, planning my future, and trying not to make horrifying mistakes along the way, at the end of the day choosing my cereal could possibly drive me out of my goddamn mind.

I don't even know if I want to cut my hair or not.** I mean, it is summer and a short cut would be cute... I could dye it new funky colors and it would be all voluminous and super curly when it's short. I could even try out some bangs! But then... I really like the way it looks when I put it up while it's long. I can put it in a big curly pile on my head with a few tendrils hanging down, and it's really easy to style that way. If I ask other people's opinion I get 50% "Do it! Change is good!" and 50% "No, you'll miss your long hair!!" response. I mean, I shouldn't be too worried about this decision because it's just hair. It always grows back. But I can't help it. It's literally been weighing on my mind for weeks. I mean it's not ruining my life or anything, but it's just one more thing on top of everything else. Another aisle of cereal.

I can't deny that I've battled bouts and attacks of anxiety and depression throughout my entire life, from as young as I have memory of. This could be caused by chemicals, circumstances, my parent's fault, or just the way I'm wired. But I think it's only fair to recognise that I've never had an easy time making decisions. I see the pro's and con's to pretty much EVERYTHING, and I'm never entirely sure which option would suit me better. They're both good. They're both bad. But which one is more ME?

Well, that's impossible to know if you don't know "ME". If you're like me, and you live in a world of grey, where you accept that everything changes and almost nothing is as it seems, including "ME", you're back to square one. Always. When I was little, I was all about Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Then in high school it was Honey Bunches of Oats. Lately, I've been pretty into the Kashi Go Lean Crunch. But it won't last. In another couple months I'll find something new, and I'll probably tell Kashi to fuck off for awhile. Maybe for years. Maybe forever.
Or maybe not.

I'm OK with not knowing ME. Whenever I've tried to get a firm handle on "who I am", by the time I think I've figured it out I've already changed again. So... Fuck it. I'll be whoever I want to be, on any given day. My only focus is that who I'm being is GOOD. Meaning:
Not causing harm to self or others.
Not being destructive.
Appreciating what I have.
Making something better.

It doesn't make anything easier to accept this grey-way of life. But it makes things more fair. I'd rather be fair and admit that I don't know for sure than assume that I'm right all the time and limit myself as well as others on the path to understanding.
When you ASSUME, you make an ASS of U and ME. haha. Seriously though.
No one appreciates you seeing the tip of the iceberg once and then pretending you've been studying it for years.
When I was around 9 or 10 years old my dad used to say, "You're so open-minded that your brains are falling out of your head". I havn't noticed a trail of grey matter yet, but I have to concur that my degree of open-mindedness sets me apart from most people I know.

I can see every side to every story. I can take a step back from my emotions and opinions, and understand objectively why a person would do something seemingly crazy, or unusual, maybe even a little "sick". Aside from murderers, rapists, chi-mo's, etc., I can usually find a way to understand why a person is the way they are, and therefore cannot judge them for it, because they are just humans like me.

To pass judgement is to say "I know for a fact that I am smarter, faster, more capable, or otherwise BETTER than YOU". And even if you instinctively feel that way about someone, it doesn't make you RIGHT. You have extremely limited information that has formed your opinion about another individual. You don't know what it's like to be that person.
You don't know how their parents felt about them when they were born, or how much money they had.
You don't know how kids treated this person in school. You don't know if this person was just always the "duck, duck, duck", or if they were chosen to be "goose" frequently enough to feel important.
You don't know if this person had trouble reading, or whether they were an active member of their ASB, or if they were a drug addict for awhile, or if they lost their best friend.
You don't know if all their lives they felt loved, or if they've spent all their time on this earth feeling hated and misunderstood by all other human beings.

The point is, you don't know the events that have taken place to create this person in front of you. All you are able to see is the result. And judging that result by your own standard is a natural human instinct; but BELIEVING, and VOICING that judgement as if YOU KNOW YOU'RE RIGHT, is ignorant, counter-productive, and probably the exact reason that this person became this result you so disapprove of.

Maybe instead of saying "I HATE", try adopting "I DON'T UNDERSTAND".

Then try to understand.

Instead of declaring "THAT'S WRONG", maybe drop it down to "I WOULDN'T MAKE THAT CHOICE".

That's fine. You don't have to.

Having a wide array of options, ideas, people, places, and things in your life may very well cause uprises anxiety and depression. I guess I'll be looking forward to early wrinkles, grey hairs, and extra tears, because I'd prefer premature ageing tied to a neverending emotional struggle rather than putting limitations on what I can learn and experience in this one life I get, just because I wanted to pretend I already knew everything. I'd rather spend my life knowing that I gave every cereal a chance than spend it eating cornflakes and telling myself and everyone else that it's clearly best choice, and if you don't choose cornflakes you're a moron.

If ignorance is bliss, I'd rather be miserable.






*There may have been a few others, I only did about 5 minutes of research on that. But you get the point.
**This post was a draft for awhile. I cut it yesterday. I like it. I look like Shirley Temple.

Me: You're an idiot. Me: I am not! You just don't understand me... Me: *sigh* I'm the only one who makes any sense around here.

I've been keeping journals since I was about 13. They're not necessarily like "diaries", I don't commit to writing in them every day or anything, and I don't just record what I've been up to. But I've found that writing helps me sort out and separate my thoughts and emotions. It's totally un-structured, sometimes rambling, weird little tidbits here and there that I try to match up with eachother to get legitimate thoughts out of my scrambled brain and onto linear, organized paper. Sometimes I use it to whine about things that are bumming me out or pissing me off or confusing me. Sometimes I use it to remind myself of things I should keep in mind when making important decisions or handling delicate matters. Like song lyrics...(journal entries in red)

"Do yourself a favor, become your own savior" - Daniel Johnston "It's in the hiding place she finds in preparation for the storm, and in the way she prays for hell, so at least she can be warm" - Jared Mees
or to-do lists that will surely lead to my eternal unwavering happiness,
Steps to not being so miserable:

Step 1. Learn to cook. It's a two-fer, because you'll eat healthier AND be proud of yourself for aquiring a domestic quality.

Step 2. Talk it out with Ivy, Icarus, or Earl. They love you as much as you love them (for suresies) and they always agree/sympathize/got your back.

Ivy Mae Icarus, a.k.a "Sticky Icky"
EARL THE MONSTER!!!....who smiles for pictures :)

As you can see, my journal is not a place which restricts irrational thinking. But it IS a place to grasp for straws to make myself feel happier or more balanced, or to vent or record ideas. Which is good enough for me. Plus, no one ever gets to read them; sometimes not even me. I just write it out, read it over, get what I get out of it, and move on. Sometimes I give myself some pretty good ideas this way, or resolve some negative feelings, or (most of the time) ramble on about what's going on in my head until I'm sick of writing about it, and therefore sick of thinking about it. Every now and then though, I do read back over what I thought about things a couple years ago, or last summer, or last Tuesday. While doing this, I've noticed a very strange pattern in communication with myself...

It's like there's been something hiding in my journal all along, that even I didn't know about. And the author of a journal is supposed to know about EVERYTHING that's going on in there, right? That's what I thought. Until I discovered....

*deep breath*

.

.

.

I have journal split personalities.

And I never noticed WHILE writing them.

Creepy?

Yes. Creepy indeed.

I have realistic, brutally honest, abrasive me, who talks like,

"You knew in the beginning where this would lead you, and now you're acting all surprized?"

and, "If you could just start paying attention to all the bullshit that comes out of your mouth, maybe you wouldn't make yourself look like such a goddamn fool all the time. Ever think of that?"

and, "Fuck you, you stupid fucking fucker."

I know. Harsh, right? What a bitch.

And it's all directed at bummed out, confused, but more eloquent me, who talks like,

"Is it better for me to have the experience and learn from it, even if the result could be horrifying?"

and, "Maybe I should just stop trying, that way at least whatever happens won't be my fault, which makes it not so bad"

and, "I wish sometimes that the immediate positive effects of a situation didn't make me blind to the should-be-obvious consequenses later..."

I know. Pathetic, right? Poor sad emo kid.

THE POINT: Notice the difference in how I address myself?

When I'm being mean to me, I yell at myself like I was someone else, and I'm all sarcastic and nasty.

When I'm defending/explaining/whining/making excuses for myself, I refer to myself in the first person. And I almost never swear.

But wait.

It gets creepier.

I have actual conversations with MYSELF as TWO PEOPLE.

For example:

"You just need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get your lazy ass in gear to do the things you know you need to do. No one cares about all this bullshit you're worried about, and neither should you. I mean, it's not like I can't see how I got here, and how to get away from here, but when I'm confused and uncomfortable with everything, it's so difficult to be right in the middle of it and try to make a move. But if you weren't so busy sitting around being a crybaby all day, maybe you'd have time to take care of all the things that are upsetting you in the first place, one by one, and the situation wouldn't seem as difficult and huge as you're making it in your batshit crazy head. I try to be positive, and I know this is just another chapter that is bound to end, but I'm torn between riding it out and waiting for it to solve itself or taking action and risking making things worse. And it's like come on, are you really so stupid you don't even realize you're digging yourself a hole, and so pathetic that you're crying because you're holding a shovel and your clothes are all dirty?"

See how smooth the transitions between my selves are? I guess because I always just spew out whatever comes to mind without any filter I never noticed whether I was refering to myself as "I" or "you" while I was writing it.

I know what you're thinking.

"This bitch has serious mental health issues that should be addressed promptly."

And I am not offended by your thought, because I thought the very same thing. Because it gets even worse. Beacuse ACTUAL me kind of hates both of those other me's.

They're like the extreme polar opposites of my personality having a neverending slap-fight over who has better ideas.

They're like Daria vs. Eeyore.

They're like that hipster fucker at the used record store and the timid girl who never looks you in the eyes at the vintage clothing store.

They're like moods I get into, but fully represented as personalities.

I like the actual everyday me much better. The actual me is realistic, but cuts me some slack, too. Not overly negative, not too sappy. But for some reason, actual me doesn't play a big part in my journal. Actual me hangs out in my head. The me in my head is like,

"Chill out, girl. Everythings gonna be OK. Go for a walk, get some coffee, listen to your ipod, and people watch for awhile."

Now that is helpful advice. That makes me feel better. There's nothing INSANE about that.

But wait.

Does that make three of me, total?

Yes it does.

Crazy people can do simple math, too.