I'm going to say something that you would probably never say out loud because it makes you seem way less attractive and successful; I am naturally a negative person.
I am. Half way empty all the way. I expect bad things to happen and, when they do happen, I dwell on them like it's my job.
When did this start? I don't know; somewhere in my childhood. We struggled a lot when we came to Canada. My mom was also a natural worrier and negative person, and she was having a really tough time adjusting to life here and finding a job, since she didn't know English and her degree wasn't recognized here. Her unhappiness pissed my dad off, since he loved to remind her of how ungrateful she was to him for bringing us here to have a better life. This all resulted in constant fighting, which affected me. And of course I didn't have any siblings to talk to or distract me; I was very aware of the negativity.
And I guess I have been let down so many times that I just expect it. The thing is that, I think it hurts so much more to be let down when you really didn't see it coming, than when you were expecting it. And so I came to just naturally expect bad things to happen, as a defense mechanism. And then if something good actually happened, that was just a bonus.
But surprisingly, Canadian society doesn't much appreciate my acceptance that everything and everyone in my life is against me and out to destroy me.
Recently, I asked one of my Canadian friends how she dealt with her break-up. Now, this break-up was bad. Not just a 'ran-its-course' amicable separation. She had been with this guy for 5 years, and he told her he was saving up to buy her a ring. He was acting very strange for a couple of weeks, seemingly trying to avoid her by saying he's too busy to see her. Then one day, he told her he would come by her apartment after work because he needed to tell her something important. Optimistic, she thought, 'This was why he was acting so strangely; he's going to propose!' Because she's the type that expects good things to actually happen. She rushed home and got dressed to the nines, did her hair and make up beautifully, so they could take pictures and send them to their family and friends and Facebook announcing their engagement. She even told a couple of her friends and her sister that it looks like he's going to finally pop the big q!
Unfortunately, this was not the case. He got to her house, drunk and looking like a sewer rat. He said he had been a mess for the past few days, constantly drinking, because he couldn't face her. The important thing he had to tell her was that he slept with someone from work a few months ago, which he thought would be a one-night stand, but gradually has turned into more, and now he thinks he's in love with her. So no engagement, no ring, no Facebook envy, all that make up and curling your hair for NOTHING.
Ok so that's pretty fucking awful right? The soul-crushing kind of thing that makes you feel like there is no point in ever trusting anyone ever again, not that you ever could.
So I asked her how in the world she was able to get through this. By the way, I had never seen her destroyed about this. As I'm asking her this question, she looks completely at peace, sipping on her latte. She smiled, and said she was just positive.
"BUT HOW!" I wailed. "I mean seriously, I get that you are naturally optimistic, but when something like this happens, how can you seriously be upbeat about it?"
"I wasn't, obviously," she confessed, finally making me feel like she is 1/16th human. "I wanted to just lay in my bed under my covers, away from sunlight, and people, and real life. But I didn't let myself do that. I didn't let myself wallow in self-pity. I forced myself to get dressed up and go to work with a huge smile on my face, forcing myself to get through pain with laughter. I forced myself to believe that he is the dumbest idiot to have ever walked the face of the earth to leave me, and that I would find someone infinitely better than him who would appreciate me. I envisioned the life that I wanted, and I wanted to be happy, so I made myself be happy until one day, I really was."
Fascinating.
Fake it til you make it. What a theory. It's the same sort of idea as that Secret book thing.
So I figured why not? Let's try this. I decided I would be happy and positive, and tell myself that things are going great for me, and overlook what isn't.
And let me tell you, it's better than I expected. Because I expect bad things, get it? But seriously, these people may be on to something here, because I felt happier and good things really did happen to me. Now, it wasn't long until my negative nancy side kicked in; I guess old habits die hard.
But my point is, try this: list all the things in your life that you are happy about, and then smile. And then think about something you're not happy with, and envision the way you want it to be. List the steps you need to take in order for you to achieve this. Now think of a step you can take right now, and plan to do it, and think about how this will be helpful. Remember, you are in control of your happiness, its not destiny, its your actions and attitude.
And here's another tip that's helped me: stop moaning to your friends and family and everyone who will listen about negative things in your life. Not only do you bring negative energy to them and are annoying as fuck, it's bringing you down as well. My girlfriends and I have a tendency to talk about our boy problems, and sometimes it does help to talk to someone for sure, but then other times it's just counter intuitive, because girls are bitchy and don't help the situation a lot of the time. So one day, I had a fight with my boyfriend and I was really sad and mad and felt like crying while eating a whole cheesecake, and my friend asked me how things were with him. I decided I didn't want to start this vicious cycle again, so I told her everything was really great and gushed about our weekend plans (unexistant) and she smiled and told me how awesome that was. And it just made me feel better. Like yeah, things are awesome, because I believe they are.
Now, I am not saying that doing something like that will make you feel amazingly happy, but guess what? It's better than continuing to be unhappy and negative. So instead of just accepting the things that are bad in your life, accept the fact that you can help yourself, and do it.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Friday, September 26, 2014
State of Impermanence
I read an article the other day, something or other about relationship advice, and one of the points made was to remember that even though you may choose to spend the rest of your life with the person you're with, there is no forever. So basically the point was Carpe Diem, or the way it is more elegantly referred to these days, YOLO. And it got me to thinking.
What is the perfect balance between doing the things that you may not want to do, but need to do in life in order to survive and thrive, and doing the things that you want, that you will regret not doing on your death bed.
Basically, how much should you YOLO in life?
I am a person that, as a result of my mother's death, has been very aware of the state of impermanence in life. Before she died, I had that naive notion that neither I nor anybody I love could ever die, because that's just not how it worked. Death was supposed to be as portrayed in after-school series, where you're old and gray and surrounded by all of your family on your death bed. And you say goodbye to them all, smile one last smile, and peacefully fade away.
But then my mother died at 38 from a mysterious blood disease, within a week. No explanation, no time to prepare, no mercy. And then, aside from the crushing pain and guilt that I felt for all of my short comings as a daughter, I started to feel paranoid. I was prepared for everyone in my life to die at any moment, almost expecting it. Seriously, if my dad did not call me back within a day, I was actually preparing myself to hear news of his death. One time, my boyfriend was an hour late to my house after work and he was not picking up his cell phone, so I sat and thought of all the different ways he could have died. Like, death was the FIRST thing I thought happened. Not that there was traffic because it was rush hour, not that he got caught up talking to some coworkers after work, not that he had someone on the side, or even that he got hurt in any amount less than death.
It might sound ridiculous to you, but if you really think about it, death is about as real as it gets. It is literally the one and only thing we are guaranteed in this fickle bitch of life. So me thinking that everyone around me was dying wasn't really that crazy, because hypothetically, they all are. What is pretty crazy is how I was never worried about myself dying. I never really considered the possibility that what happened to my mom might be genetic and happen to me just the same. Even last year when I was told that I have abnormal cells that can turn to cancer at any point in time, I might have been freaked, but I could never truly accept that something like that could happen to ME. Because Jesus, I am a young and healthy white person living in a first world nation, I am no where near my after-school series death.
It's amazing, isn't it? The erroneously egotistical nature of our evolution. Even though we might not say it out loud, we believe we are way more attractive than we actually are, we believe we should have any and everything we want in life; that we are essentially indestructible. Even when told that that are ONE HUNDRED BILLION galaxies in the observable universe, and that, in our galaxy alone there are conceivably up to THREE TRILLION PLANETS, and we are literally a speck of dust and our lives are basically of no concrete relevance other than to produce more irrelevant life, EVEN THEN, we still have the amazing audacity to believe we are incredibly unique, that there is no other life form like us out there, and that we have the right to MATTER.
But really, I'm not trying to knock evolution or its methods. I understand that there would be no point to creating life forms that were constantly super aware that they will die and are worthless. I just think our existence is wrought with the contradicting notions. On one hand, we are taught to live our lives by structure, according to societal expectations, which is why we go bankrupt pursuing education in hopes of a better job, after which we work for up to 50 years to have enough money to sustain our lives and have the financial freedom to do things we want. On the other hand, for most, our lives outside of work are much more meaningful to us, and we would love to have the means to be able to YOLO much more, and just do the things we want in general, but we can't/don't.
Well, I personally like to think that I have a pretty ok balance of work and play, but there is no doubt that I will always be more in pursuit of the things that make me happy than obsessed with work. Unless the work makes me happy, in which case double win. It's just that, all those long hours spent working over time instead of with the ones who love you are not going to be there for you when you need someone. When I'm on my deathbed, I am going to think about all the amazing trips I took traveling the world, not about all the paperwork I was able to accomplish. If you feel truly unhappy with your life and you know deep down that this is not what you want, it really may be time to realize that you could die any day now, and that you have the option to die happy.
It's fine to give your life purpose by doing work and keeping busy, especially if your work is helping others, but, as evolution intended to do, remember to help yourself to be happy, because you might only be a speck of dust, but there's no other speck of dust like you.
What is the perfect balance between doing the things that you may not want to do, but need to do in life in order to survive and thrive, and doing the things that you want, that you will regret not doing on your death bed.
Basically, how much should you YOLO in life?
I am a person that, as a result of my mother's death, has been very aware of the state of impermanence in life. Before she died, I had that naive notion that neither I nor anybody I love could ever die, because that's just not how it worked. Death was supposed to be as portrayed in after-school series, where you're old and gray and surrounded by all of your family on your death bed. And you say goodbye to them all, smile one last smile, and peacefully fade away.
But then my mother died at 38 from a mysterious blood disease, within a week. No explanation, no time to prepare, no mercy. And then, aside from the crushing pain and guilt that I felt for all of my short comings as a daughter, I started to feel paranoid. I was prepared for everyone in my life to die at any moment, almost expecting it. Seriously, if my dad did not call me back within a day, I was actually preparing myself to hear news of his death. One time, my boyfriend was an hour late to my house after work and he was not picking up his cell phone, so I sat and thought of all the different ways he could have died. Like, death was the FIRST thing I thought happened. Not that there was traffic because it was rush hour, not that he got caught up talking to some coworkers after work, not that he had someone on the side, or even that he got hurt in any amount less than death.
It might sound ridiculous to you, but if you really think about it, death is about as real as it gets. It is literally the one and only thing we are guaranteed in this fickle bitch of life. So me thinking that everyone around me was dying wasn't really that crazy, because hypothetically, they all are. What is pretty crazy is how I was never worried about myself dying. I never really considered the possibility that what happened to my mom might be genetic and happen to me just the same. Even last year when I was told that I have abnormal cells that can turn to cancer at any point in time, I might have been freaked, but I could never truly accept that something like that could happen to ME. Because Jesus, I am a young and healthy white person living in a first world nation, I am no where near my after-school series death.
It's amazing, isn't it? The erroneously egotistical nature of our evolution. Even though we might not say it out loud, we believe we are way more attractive than we actually are, we believe we should have any and everything we want in life; that we are essentially indestructible. Even when told that that are ONE HUNDRED BILLION galaxies in the observable universe, and that, in our galaxy alone there are conceivably up to THREE TRILLION PLANETS, and we are literally a speck of dust and our lives are basically of no concrete relevance other than to produce more irrelevant life, EVEN THEN, we still have the amazing audacity to believe we are incredibly unique, that there is no other life form like us out there, and that we have the right to MATTER.
But really, I'm not trying to knock evolution or its methods. I understand that there would be no point to creating life forms that were constantly super aware that they will die and are worthless. I just think our existence is wrought with the contradicting notions. On one hand, we are taught to live our lives by structure, according to societal expectations, which is why we go bankrupt pursuing education in hopes of a better job, after which we work for up to 50 years to have enough money to sustain our lives and have the financial freedom to do things we want. On the other hand, for most, our lives outside of work are much more meaningful to us, and we would love to have the means to be able to YOLO much more, and just do the things we want in general, but we can't/don't.
Well, I personally like to think that I have a pretty ok balance of work and play, but there is no doubt that I will always be more in pursuit of the things that make me happy than obsessed with work. Unless the work makes me happy, in which case double win. It's just that, all those long hours spent working over time instead of with the ones who love you are not going to be there for you when you need someone. When I'm on my deathbed, I am going to think about all the amazing trips I took traveling the world, not about all the paperwork I was able to accomplish. If you feel truly unhappy with your life and you know deep down that this is not what you want, it really may be time to realize that you could die any day now, and that you have the option to die happy.
It's fine to give your life purpose by doing work and keeping busy, especially if your work is helping others, but, as evolution intended to do, remember to help yourself to be happy, because you might only be a speck of dust, but there's no other speck of dust like you.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Why tho?
I thought it might be appropriate to start off my new blog by answering the question of why I would want to start a blog. Not because I think it's interesting but because I am genuinely wondering what is up with me..
Just kidding. I have always liked writing so this isn't weird for me, I am just this weird.
Is it weird to have a blog?
Lord knows. I suppose I could be spending my time in the pursuit of something more productive like doing something French related. Ugh kill me. Ok I swear I'm going to watch that masturbation French movie on Netflix right after I'm done here. I mean seriously, the French movies Netflix has to offer are such shit. Its either about sex or Amelie lol because obviously.
Or I suppose one would argue that I could have blogged in French to make it more worthwhile...but fuck it I can't even string two sentences together in French let alone blog. I imagine someone French looking at my French blog and posting it to their Facebook with the caption "Hilarious fail of some bitch trying to speak French", which would only be seen as funnier still when they find out I am a certified French teacher. Huh huh huh (French laugh).
Whatever. I know I am in fact good at French and I am damn passionate about it, it's just that I need experience and to get my foot in the door and blah blah blah but I'm frustrated so deal with it because this is my f-ing blog!
So anyways, I digress, let's get back to the matter at hand; why blog?
Well, I guess the best answer would be that writing is therapeutic to me. It is. I feel better when I write my thoughts down and I can dissect them. I understand myself better this way. Especially when I am overreacting. It seems much more clear how ridiculous you're being when you read your thoughts.
Also, I have opinions on things. Yes, amazing but true; a female that has an opinion.
And I also like to write my opinions down, probably because they are so damn good.
And I like going back and reading things I wrote years later, so strange to see how much we have changed yet are so much the same.
So I guess this blog will be multi-purpose; I will be writing about any topic that pops into my head, as well as my feelings sometimes because I can't get away from those. So I guess we will see what comes out.
Just kidding. I have always liked writing so this isn't weird for me, I am just this weird.
Is it weird to have a blog?
Lord knows. I suppose I could be spending my time in the pursuit of something more productive like doing something French related. Ugh kill me. Ok I swear I'm going to watch that masturbation French movie on Netflix right after I'm done here. I mean seriously, the French movies Netflix has to offer are such shit. Its either about sex or Amelie lol because obviously.
Or I suppose one would argue that I could have blogged in French to make it more worthwhile...but fuck it I can't even string two sentences together in French let alone blog. I imagine someone French looking at my French blog and posting it to their Facebook with the caption "Hilarious fail of some bitch trying to speak French", which would only be seen as funnier still when they find out I am a certified French teacher. Huh huh huh (French laugh).
Whatever. I know I am in fact good at French and I am damn passionate about it, it's just that I need experience and to get my foot in the door and blah blah blah but I'm frustrated so deal with it because this is my f-ing blog!
So anyways, I digress, let's get back to the matter at hand; why blog?
Well, I guess the best answer would be that writing is therapeutic to me. It is. I feel better when I write my thoughts down and I can dissect them. I understand myself better this way. Especially when I am overreacting. It seems much more clear how ridiculous you're being when you read your thoughts.
Also, I have opinions on things. Yes, amazing but true; a female that has an opinion.
And I also like to write my opinions down, probably because they are so damn good.
And I like going back and reading things I wrote years later, so strange to see how much we have changed yet are so much the same.
So I guess this blog will be multi-purpose; I will be writing about any topic that pops into my head, as well as my feelings sometimes because I can't get away from those. So I guess we will see what comes out.
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