fitveggielife

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A lover of food and brains. Do the two mix?
  • I think I can, I think I can…

    I think I can, I think I can…

    Shadows lurk in broad daylight. I didn’t know how many of them I’d become friends with, unknowingly(?) bringing them along with me to each new house I live in, or new town, or new job, or new relationship. I held their hands and helped them settle in. 

    I’m 28, an age that feels full of something… I’m still not sure what, but it’s something different. I could carry on as the me that lives in the shadows, that believes and feels the way I used to feel, or… I don’t? 

    I’ve taken a bit of time recently to look at myself, to look at my past, to see what it’s all made of. I’ve read books, I’ve journaled, I occasionally and sporadically do yoga and meditation, and it sounds so stupid even as I type it, it’s so overdone and is in need of new words, but it’s changed my view on life and brought me here into the daylight. 

    The reality I’d occupied before was a “live fast die young” mentality, a breeding ground for shadows to feed and frolic. No fucks; none for you (which was a lie) and none for me (which was especially true). I wanted money, I wanted lovers, I wanted to do whatever I wanted to do. And I did. For a long time, I made it all work in some weird congested, foggy, fucked up way. But that’s just me looking back on it now. It just wasn’t enough. It wasn’t going to bring me closer to anything worthwhile, maybe deep down I knew that? I don’t know, I don’t think I really cared what happened, either way I was in the fuck it fast lane. 

    Until I noticed I occupied a space that was full of too many shadows and too much pain. Maybe this is my frontal lobe forming or my biological clock or some other phenomenon that can explain away that switch from the me I used to be to the one I’m becoming. Looking at others, I’m not sure of a pattern. 

    The me I am now says fuck those shadows, fuck feeling heavy and anxious, and fuck not figuring out what the fuck lies beneath. That’s the bottom line. I decided, this is enough, I’m done with you shadow fucks and you’re negative ass energy, FUCK–OFF. 

    Yes, the past isn’t pretty, and yes at one point I did wish I grew up with everything I needed, but there’s something else now, gratitude? I made it. I’ve learned from it. I’m me. I don’t have to believe everything the fucking shadows say, I HAVE A SAY. I’m grateful for it all… I wish the past me’s could get on board but, to each their own.

    Sometimes that injured child inside needs to be told, you’re good, I’ve got this. The question then becomes, do you have someone else who can be in charge? Another you that isn’t living for the past? 

    The shadows don’t go away when you’re here, aware of them. They simply tempt you from a little bit of distance; now you have breathing room to think, to remember, to remind yourself, all is not fucking lost. My past is painted in reds and blues, and now I get to invite some yellows and oranges. Broaden the spectrum, become something other than the me who was surviving. 

    This morning the shadows were in my dreams and followed me out of them. They threw the covers back and helped me out of bed, all the while painting and brushing, reminding me of the dead. I’m not sure what their purpose is other than to hurt, but I decided, yes decided, not to listen. I’m tired of being hurt, I’m tired of feeling only pain, when there’s so much more just beyond their fucking shadow faces. 

    It’s like a bad habit. Habits take time to be broken, and they most definitely can be broken. It doesn’t mean you’ll never encounter it again, far from the truth. It’ll come down to what you do moment by moment in those moments of pain, what are you capable of?

    I know how to perform magic now. I know how to poof! all of it away, by remembering, and reminding myself of the beauty of this moment and look forward instead of back. I can work with the shadows instead of against, using them as a tool when I need to instead of suffering with them. 

  • Is It Just Me?

    Is It Just Me?

    Feelings explode inside of me as I blindly wreck havoc on the people around me. Aware but my awareness is clipped in it’s cute little car seat in the back, watching as something evil white knuckles the steering wheel. Is it evil? They’re grinning, cackling! Jesus, that’s inside of me? I feel it, and it doesn’t have evil intentions… it feels like they’re in a bit of pain.

    I need help. Sure, therapy would be great, no I’m not about to off myself, the help I need is around me just out of reach. Family? Friends? I wish they could see me. I mean how selfish can I be to demand their spotlights, don’t I know how busy and hard life is? Why yes I do. But wait, they do see me! I talk to them, I see them see me. What more do I want? The help is them?

    Or is it me? Emotional and neurotic, you never know what might come out of my mouth, it must be me. I need to help myself.

    The work never stops. We can always improve! Good! I like it—I think? I would love to find out what’s beneath all of this tension and anger, maybe it’s all just PMS? Maybe it’s moving back home? Maybe it’s ending a relationship? Maybe it’s everything and some. That’s the fun part, trying to figure it out. This isn’t anybody else’s problem but mine, this is for me to fix, but I must admit, it would be nice to receive some help. What kind though? Do I even know?

    But I’m not supposed to rely on anybody am I? Is that my idea? Is that my wounded child voice? Is that society? Is it wrong to want to lean on people? I just feel like I’m different, too different, too scary, too explosive for anybody to connect with me. I speak my mind too openly, I spill tears, I reveal everything behind the curtain—here! have it all!—but why should anybody care?

    This is where I’m stuck. I love my mind, I love watching people, I love having deep ass, beautiful conversations about life and death and all of the feelings, I love feeling everything even pain, I’m not the only one am I? Not in some sadistic way, it’s just kinda neat… I’m here, alive, and I get to feel all of these things. But… but… where do I go from here?! Wait for it to pass, let it wash over me, and resume life as normal… it just feels like I’d be missing something if I didn’t look a little deeper. Isn’t it all for something?

    While I feel alone at the moment, and explosive, and have unleashed my feelings on family members, aside from apologizing, I’m going to stand a little more still, observe a little more and say a little less, that way I can get an understanding of what the fuck this is (Although now that I’ve written this it seems quite obvious) all for.

    I’m a mess but I’m grateful.. for my feelings, for my family, for this site, all is not lost… it is just me, but it also isn’t. I’m not the only motherfuckin’ human who has big feelings. Whether y’all will admit it or not.

  • Good vs Evil

    Good vs Evil

    What do you wake up saying to yourself in the morning? Every morning? 

    “I need more sleep.” “I’m still tired.” “I’m heartbroken.”

    It’s time to change the narrative. It starts the moment I wake up into my conscious self. 

    This morning it’s a fight between good and evil. Noises irritate me; water dripping on the roof, my dog smacking her lips, the chickens clucking, birds chirping, the heater with its incessant whoosh. My stomach is tightening up, like two fists threatening to fight, “LET ME BREATHE!,” I shout back. I focus on my breathing, then. I feel a moment, a glimpse of peace, and grip too tightly–it’s gone–but I know it’s there. That space is the goal. My body isn’t in charge. 

    I feel like biting someone’s head off, but to give in to that rage means choosing that path, and all that comes with it. Evil. 

    How often am I choosing evil? 

    It is an easy road. It is the path of least resistance, although… it doesn’t necessarily feel easy. It feels like breathing fire and glass, like destruction, like feeding on others’ souls. God, and it’s sitting there on my shoulder, beckoning me. 

    That notification might be him. 

    You’re not in control. See how quickly you turned your head? 

    A coach rooting for my downfall, spiral into their hands to play with like a puppet. 

    I am not a puppet. 

    You’re pathetic!

    We can’t get rid of the person squatting above our shoulders, not completely. But it isn’t just them. There’s another voice, a much quieter one, but it can conquer with patience and practice, with awareness, with responsibility. I’ve given in before, possessed by the lullaby of evil, but I don’t have to continue choosing it, not if I can help it, and I can help it. 

    Yeah right.

    So I hear, not listen, to the evil words, they rest like putrid rot in the base of my stomach, bringing tears to my eyes, but I won’t move. I won’t take action in this state, I won’t succumb to the rage they fill my body with, the whispers of lies, deceit, betrayal, and hatred they spin the world with. I am not that. 

    You think you can get rid of me?

    To lean into evil is to lean into a path already walked. It’s not unknown or new, it’s paved with souls of people who listen, I know what I’ll become. I realize that to walk where I aim to go, is to walk in darkness, unseeing and maybe alone. If I take my time, if I listen, if I breathe, I can find the way. A way that will multiply for the better anything that can be found on the paved road. I’ve got to have faith in myself. 

    It doesn’t mean the bad feelings don’t exist, or that I’ll never have a bad day. I am still human, but it means I can handle and look at those things with patience and practice responding with love or no response rather than being swept away. That’s the natural thing to do, to get caught up, to become our circumstances, but we create them. We are the creators if we want to be. IF we can conquer the devil on our shoulders. If we can conquer ourselves. 

    You’re a fraud.

    I don’t acknowledge the evil this morning, despite the gripping of my organs, the hand around my throat, the tears in my eyes, I’m not going to become death and destruction. I can wait it out with my middle finger up and breathe, “I’m in control mother fucker.”

  • I graduated college, earning a bachelor’s degree and intermittent depression

    I graduated college, earning a bachelor’s degree and intermittent depression

    I graduated from college a little bit over a year ago and I thought it was this great thing that would lead to success! Make that money, have a gazillion opportunities, and more.

    “All you need to do is graduate with your BA Marti, everything will be fine!” -Me to me.

    Boy, was I wrong. I mean sure, it has its benefits: I can apply to jobs that require a BA, I can make more money (a whopping $3 more on average), and it’s earned a tiny bit of respect from my grandpa… who doesn’t acknowledge much. BUT all of the noise about going to college, getting your career started, and working a 9-5 job Monday-Friday is just not what I’m interested in.

    For my particular degree, psychology, my options are also pretty limited. Throughout college I was into sports and basically just glided through class earning average grades with no particular direction. This also allowed me to dismiss all opportunity for internships, which I later found out are extremely important for when you graduate with psychology. Why? Let me tell you, everything requires experience… I kid you not I spent hours on end looking for jobs, applying to the ones that maybe would let me learn on the job, and  never once received a phone call back. It could be due to a terrible resume as well, but in the end I just didn’t feel interested.

    I was trying for these specific jobs, with little to no actual interest in them because I had just spend four years studying psych, of course I needed to work in that field. And if I don’t, then what a waste of time… and right here ladies and gentlemen was and still sometimes is my dilemma. Nobody wants to feel like they wasted their time, I sure as hell don’t. I struggled with this hard the first six months after graduating. I would even say I dabbled with a little bit of depression, feeling like I no longer had direction or purpose. I just completed 16 years of school, and all 16 years I had purpose, “go to school”. But, what a lot of people don’t tell you is when this direction is gone, the school life, and you don’t have all your shit together right after, it really sucks.

    What really upsets me though is how we are all funneled into this path. And, it all starts from when we are children, always having in the back of our minds that we need to find out what we want to do with our lives. How do we find out? Through school! So, lucky for me, I was in the funnel and I went from high school straight to college. Thinking at 18 I had an idea of what I wanted to study for the next four years and that it would ultimately lead to my great future.

    Here I am on the other side, 1 year post graduation, and have been on and off struggling with the fact that I “wasted” my time. I think it’s about perspective though… yes, I am mad I rushed into college, yes, I don’t particularly see myself doing anything with my degree, BUT I have learned so much. For one, I learned I don’t want to be a psychologist, I know I don’t want to work an office job, and I know when I have kids I want them to take their time and not be funneled if they don’t want to be funneled. And for some, I know it’s a good path, particularly for those who know they want a career that requires education. That’s just not the case for me. The waves of sadness are almost completely gone, thanks to a change in perspective and appreciation for the positives, but the struggle to find out what I want to do is still there.

    Overall, college has taken me the long route to learn that school isn’t for me. Luckily I’m figuring that out now, before any graduate school and all the money that goes along with that (don’t get me started). And I know I’m not the only one struggling withe this. What’s helped me most is trying to see the positives, and knowing that there is still so much time to learn and find out what I can do. So, for now I will blog, make bomb vegan food, read, travel, and who knows what else. Hopefully I can find something that I am passionate about on the way because a piece of paper ultimately won’t.