Thanks

I'm sorry I've been so absent, I've been busy trying to heal. Today is the first day I feel successful. I got work on four different projects done. I am so happy. I finally feel like myself today. I feel like am my self again, thank you goddesses for hearing my prayers. Thank you for helping me to do things I never believed would be possible. I never believed I could fight through the pain and the tiredness to be able to heal myself. I owe you much and I thank you publicly.

A New Project

So I've quietly been working on this project of mine. The More Than Awareness Project is a way of helping people understand how to help those of us with cancer through it.

The More Than Awareness Project

Compassion

When I am not scared, I am truly myself. Unfortunately it turns out that people I know freak me out a lot more than the people I don't.

But when I am myself, I find myself to be a truly compassionate human being. Last night I was walking home at 1 in the morning and I saw a girl in a short tight red skirt, black sparkly tights, and a coat. She was on her phone trying talking to her friend. She got more and more scared, she finally admitted that she was lost to her friend. Most people I know would have called her a dumb slut and just left her alone. I asked her if she need help. She said no ma'am and we went on or separate ways.

I don't know why I felt the need to post this. Maybe because I feel so alone in my extreme need to do what I believe is right, just, and fair.

Book Idea?

When some one you love has cancer it is a terrifying thing. They come home from doctors appointments with tons of papers you can barely understand. They tell you everything is okay, but you know that it isn't. You know that some day, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe in ten years from now this cancer will come back. Now the person you were considering spending the rest of your life with has less life to live.

I am David, and this is my story. Or a part of it at least. I'm not the best of people, I'm not known for my intelligent life choices. I try my best to do what is right, but most often I end up fucking up and making a mess of things. This story is about one of those mistakes.

Cara is beautiful. Even now with the scar that marks her neck. It isn't a large scar, only about four inches long and about of an 1/8th of an inch thick. Cara's scar sits right where her neck meets her body, and it is easy to hide with a scarf of a large necklace. Most people don't even notice it, even those who have known her for a long time. She likes to make jokes about it, I can't remember most of them right now but I know a few have to do with harry potter.

Cara was incredibly skinny, almost too thin. She was too short to be a model at 5'5", but she didn't let this bother her. She has gained some weight from the side effects of the cancer, but she just looks more average now. She has the most stunning hazel eyes, with a bright emerald green at the center and a deep chocolate brown at the edges. Cara often uses her eyes as a weapon, with an intense gaze that could burn a hole in steel. Her hair is a deep brown with reddish undertones that falls just below her chin. Sometimes she does something to it to make it a more vibrant red, but I think it looks good either way.

I miss her. It was one of the biggest mistakes of my short life to leave her. But I just couldn't take it. I couldn't take watching her get so sick and angry. Even though she had every right to be angry, her situation sucked. I can't even begin to imagine how much it sucked. And I made it worse.

Bedtime Story

I shut my door, turn off the lights, and take my sleeping pill.

“Nobody loves me.” I say to myself as climb into my bed.

“Everyone hates me.” I pull the covers over me and roll on to my side holding my pillow. 

“Nobody cares about me.” I start to cry.

I hear a scraping noise. “It must be the neighbors.” I rationalize, “They make all kinds of weird noises.” The strange noise continues.

“It cant be.” I get out of bed and go to the door. I open it a crack, expecting it to be the neighbors. I look down, knowing I’ll be disappointed.

I’m not. The kitten is standing there. Waiting to come in. I open the door enough to let it  in. I crawl back in bed figuring that it will soon leave. A few moments later i feel a light tough on my leg. I smile. “I’m not alone.”

Bedtime Story

I shut my door, turn off the lights, and take my sleeping pill.

“Nobody loves me.” I say to myself as climb into my bed.

“Everyone hates me.” I pull the covers over me and roll on to my side holding my pillow. 

“Nobody cares about me.” I start to cry.

I hear a scraping noise. “It must be the neighbors.” I rationalize, “They make all kinds of weird noises.” The strange noise continues.

“It cant be.” I get out of bed and go to the door. I open it a crack, expecting it to be the neighbors. I look down, knowing I’ll be disappointed.

I’m not. The kitten is standing there. Waiting to come in. I open the door enough to let it  in. I crawl back in bed figuring that it will soon leave. A few moments later i feel a light tough on my leg. I smile. “I’m not alone.”

Life

I am a broken human being. I suffer from depression, ADHD, hypothyrodism, borderline personality traits, and being far too good of a human being. I’m also really frakking lonely, afraid of a ton of random things, and slightly paranoid. Why am I telling you this.

Because I attempted suicide today. I’m okay now. I’m sure a lot of you have been in my position for different reasons. I don’t want my existence to end, I just want to move on from the life that I have been given. I have been thrown shit after shit after shit. I lost the one person who bothered to stay with me durring treatment because of all this. Which of course made all of my problems flare up. These problems, they feed into themselves. Causing more and more pain.

I know I don’t deserve this, and deep down I am afraid of death. I know that this is all because I’ve messed up taking my medications. Sometimes I’m really high and can take on the world. And then randomly I hit this low funk and can’t get out of it. Though I fight it with all that I’ve got. I just don’t have a lot right now. 

Thoughs

I don't like who I am when I'm in a relationship. I become compliant, clingy, demanding, controlling  whiney and all together not myself. I want to know why, I want to dig inside myself and figure out why I completely become somebody else. Because the person I become, I don't like her. Don't like her one bit. And I know I've discovered this before, and you know what I've made changes in my life. I'm not always proud of those changes, but at least it is proof that change does happen.

Whiney

I am so sick of being sick. I took a new medication, and now I'm feeling sicker. Actually I took two. I just want this to stop. I want to stop being sick, I want to be able to do what I want when I want and not have to think can I? I want to be able to use my skills, rather then let them melt away. I want to live my life on my terms rather than the terms of my disease/s. I'm tired of living my life on the terms of other people. I just want to live.

On and on

So many stories to write, so little time. So many projects to make. It's been a hard run over here. People are cruel, and I really expect them not to be. I stopped fighting, and had to be kicked in the ass to come back.

So Life list update, Look for the change!

Skills
Learn basic archery
Practice reiki
Practice a form of dance
Places
Visit Sweden, and meet my relatives
Visit New Zeeland
Spend at least a year backpacking through Europe
Entertainment
See War Horse, the broadway play(My mom's plan is for all of us to go at Christmas.)
See a Broadway play on Broadway
See something in London's West End
Achievements
Work on a Broadway play
Work on a Hollywood film
Work for Wetta Workshop
Work on the Olympics
Get My Degree in Theatre
(I'm working on all of the above by going to college and working on my degree(s?).)
Write a book(Working on a few books, so its something.)
Experiences
Beat Cancer! (DONE!)
Have a family
Become a Buddhist Nun

Snowflakes

I want to bitch. I want to whine. I'm tired of the crap that keeps happening to me. I'm fighting. I am. But there isn't much I can do. I'm so annoyed. I'm sick of my life being different than everyone else's! I don't want to deal with the pains, physical and mental, that I go through. I just want to be able to live my life. I want my consciousness to be free of all this crap. I don't want to be a special snowflake. I want to get rid of all the things that cloud my mind. I want to be free.

Learning to Be Strong

Adjusting to life as a college student is hard. I've missed four classes already. It is only the second week. This period in my life will eventually end. This I know. I also know that I am strong enough to face this. I am human, my life has worth.

I keep working on my projects. Unfortunately I don't get a lot done. But I do get something done, and that is worth something. Learning to live this sick life is all about adjusting how you see things. Its adjusting to finding the small things in life. And I can say that for all the sadness and pain I've had, I've also had a lot of joy and happiness. For every struggle I've had triumph. And for every bit of ugly I've had another of beauty.

Life List Update

Skills
Learn basic archery
Practice reiki
Practice a form of dance
Places
Visit Sweden, and meet my relatives
Visit New Zeeland
Spend at least a year backpacking through Europe
Entertainment
See War Horse, the broadway play(My mom's plan is for all of us to go at Christmas.)
See a Broadway play on Broadway
See something in London's West End
Achievements
Work on a Broadway play
Work on a Hollywood film
Work for Wetta Workshop
Work on the Olympics
Get My Degree in Theatre
(I'm working on all of the above by going to college and working on my degree(s?).)
Write a book(Working on a few books, so its something.)
Experiences
Beat Cancer! (Working on it. Approximately a week left.)
Have a family
Become a Buddhist Nun

So I've made a second draft. Given updates on what I'm working on. Added two things.

Writing for Myself

"I'm not angry with you, I am disappointed in you." This sentence has become something of a trope in our literature. The idea that quiet disappointment is more powerful reaction than the loud anger that we expected to receive. When the hero disappoints his mentor it seems to effect the main character more than the anger ever would have. If you look at society, we are constantly running away from the feeling of disappointment. We are constantly afraid of disappointing the people in our lives.
For those of us who are mentally ill our fears of disappointment can lead to strange and irrational behaviors that make sense to us because we live in a different world. I can only speak for the world I inhabit, and the particular challenges it gives me. In my world a disappointment is a crushing blow. To me disappointment is one of the worst feelings I can experience, and I will do anything to avoid it. I try to control how much disappointment there is in my life in two ways. I try to control everything around me, or I go to the other end and shut down. I let somebody else take the wheel and barely live my life at all. I do this because above all I am searching for comfort, security, love, and connectivity. Yet when I have these things I have trouble maintaining them because I fear the crushing disappointment I will feel when I eventually lose them.
I have worked long and hard at trying to balance out these two extremes. So that I can find and keep what I seek. I don't always succeed, but I don't always fail either. What I am almost always doing is fighting these impulses to behave irrationally, even if it is to do the more socially acceptable thing and shut down for a little while when I am disappointed. Lately I try to make art. I try to do something with myself that is productive and lets me not fall into the traps my own mind sets for me.
One of the hardest parts about writing as art is that people don't expect to be able to read what you write for yourself. They get easily confused and angry when you are not taking them into account when you write. I'm not taking others into account when I write, I write for me. I write what I think sounds good. And if people enjoy it, then I am incredibly blessed.

Good Art

At first the scar bothered me. It sat right at the center of my neck, and when my hair was down it was a perfectly framed reminder. It had a slight curve to it, just enough to be noticable if you stared at it. Stare at it was all I could do. I couldn't think. I couldn't utter the words, you have cancer.
Normally I get some sort of satisfaction when I am right, even if it is grim news. Typically I can find some small comfort in the fact that my iniution did not fail me. This time that gilmer of self gradification didn't come. Neither did normalcy. 
The doctors were calm as they explained everything. I was never told the stage, I was never given a lifespan. I wasn't going to have chemo. I felt a little cheated. All the buzz words you normally hear with cancer, that people can understand, I was denied. Instead I was given a whole different vocabulary, one that not many have heard before and can be quiet daunting at times.
I dove into this vocabulary, into this world of my illness. How could I not? I didn't belong with the regular cancer patients, and I most deffinately didn't belong with the healthy people. I was in my own bleak world, and nothing could take me away from it.
It hasn't been until the last two days and a simple phrase that I've truly started to heal from this entire thing.
"Make good art."-Neil Gaiman
That phrase in away has saved my life. It at least has saved me from succumbing to this disease. I'm not sure what my bestfriend and I were talking about when he advised me to look up the speach that phrase is from. I was probably droning on and on ad nasum about how utterly terrible my existance had become. He suggested I listen to Mr. Gaiman's speach. I was moved, and yet at the same time I was hurting. My future was all determinded now on if I could get affordable healthcare, my daily existance depends on a multitude of medicines and the doctors who perscribe them. How could I make good art when I couldn't go out and be an artist?
So I set my self a challenge, make as many creations as you can each day. Do not judge them.Just create them.
So here I am, creating, making, healing. This may not be art that is pleasing to others, but it is good art. It is good art because its creation helped its creator heal from a dibilitating disease. Art will not provide me the hormones my body now needs to survive, art will not make food magically appear on my table, art will not always make me instantly happy. But what art does is inviable to my life, and my greatest hope that my art is not just good for me, but it is also good for you. That it moves you, shakes you, pushes you, and sends you on a journey that you might not otherwise have found. And if my art does not do this for you, that somewhere in the world there is art that does.

Rant

I want to run.
But I have to wait for my musical device to charge.
I don't want to. I want to feel the pavement beneath my bare feet.
I haven't done this since last summer. Not since the last time I got angry like this.
I'm trying to be patient, to give my ipod some time to charge.
10 minuets I say, I'll leave in ten minuets.
But In ten minuets my parents might be home, and they'll bar the doors and stop me from going.
Trouble is insured if I leave this late when they are here.
But right now they are not. They are out stalking their dream house.
If only they showed as much emotion about my cancer as they did about future homes.
They kept swearing that they didn't move soon enough, when they only got the info yesterday and the house went on the market tonight.
I could use ETF, but then again the fact that freedom is so close, yet so far is too tempting.
Why do I always have to be the punching bag?
Why do I always have to make threats?
Why am I this way?
Is there any medicine that can help me?

I guess I'm just restless. I can't really go outside.
Not when it's been so hot and I've been so sick.
My parents believe I should be trying harder. They didn't even want me to have a week off. It is hard for me to understand my parents.
I feel better but I still want to run.
I want to, even though I shouldn't.
Even scrubbing makes me feel the weakness in my body.
They told me this was the easy cancer.
I think doctors should be banned from saying that phrase, the easy cancer. The instead should say the most curable cancer. It doesn't put stupid ideas into stupid peoples heads about how this will be for the patient.
I'm rambling.
The only reason I fear rambling is I fear people wont read it and will misunderstand me.
Being misunderstood is a fear of mine.

Should I wear shoes when I go? Only 3 minuets left.
I gave the thing fifteen to charge. I wont even be gone that long, sooner if the charge doesn't hold.
I hope the charge holds. I haven't used this thing in two months.
Too busy packing for LIB and then running.
Brother is freaking out over getting my music on his computer.
Be greatful little one its good music!
Shit. Mom and Dad are home.

So This is Cancer

I am fighting cancer. I think what people forget about this whole thing is that I'm not a trained fighter. This isn't a martial arts movie. I don't magically stop all the punches they throw at me. The other guy gets quiet a few punches in. And even though it is likely I'm going to walk away from this fight, I'm gonna walk away with wounds that need to be stitched and bruises that need time to heal.

Right now my lips are twitch my hands feel funny and my feet are tingly. Because I didn't wake up at my normal times to take my medication. Yesterday I had three mental breakdowns. All over something rather simple. I would go so far as to call my thinking durring those times delusional. I am losing my mind and for another four weeks it is only going to get worse. Today, thus far I am lucky. But I feel another breakdown coming on.

This is my cancer. I wont lose my hair. I don't spend most my time bent over a toilet waiting to puke. I am not in a lot of pain. And I am set to live a long normal life. This is my cancer, it isn't what most people expect. This is my cancer, and it slowly driving me insane.

After Cancer

So I'm having one of my crazy ideas that I'm not sure I'll actually follow through with.

I want to go be a hermit in the woods for at least a year.

I keep chasing these things that I cannot have. I keep hoping that magically all this hurt, pain, and anger will leave me. That the actions that this trio drive me to will stop. It wont. But with all these distractions and my own lack of attention, I can't seem to stop and turn my life around. Sure I've made some great progress. But what I really need to do is get the fuck out of this life where I can hide from all the things I can't face. I need to face reality. I need to become who I am and stay that way.

So that is the grand plan after cancer. Go live in the woods. God I hope this works.

Lilly's Life List

Skills
Learn basic archery
Practice reiki
Practice a form of dance
Places
Visit Sweden, and meet my relatives
Visit New Zeeland
Spend at least a year backpacking through Europe
Entertainment
See War Horse, the broadway play
See a Broadway play on Broadway
See something in London's West End
Achievements
Work on a Broadway play
Work on a Hollywood film
Work for Wetta Workshop
Write a book
Experiences
Beat Cancer!
Have a family
Become a Buddhist Nun

A Life In Question

It was cancer.

I'm still waiting for it to hit me.

Everything feels so normal. Until my body starts failing me.

The emotions start flooding me. I've always been emotional but now my emotions have gotten even stronger and my faulty thinking has gotten even more dangerous. I feel like I'm a super human. Everything I feel is like a wave, it hits me like a wall and all I can do is decide if I want to fight it or ride it out.

I look back on the past three years and I start to see my illness develop, you see it wasn't just cancer. I had an auto-immune disease that was attacking my thyroid but since my levels were fine nobody could figure out what was wrong until it possibly developed into cancer.

They say hindsight is 20/20 I feel like its even more than that. I see everything so clearly now. I can't regret it because there was nothing I could do. There is still nothing I can do, the world is pushing me forward but I need a break. I want to go out west again.

I'm not sure how I am going to get it, but I need a break from normal so I can get my life back on track.

Thyroid

I am an amazing person. I have pushed through a chaotic family. I've struggled through bullying. I've pushed through depression and anxiety. And I've dragged myself through my own life. And finally I think I'm on top of the world and I can do this, and I'm looking death in the face. I hope to be able to say more but I'm experiencing a bit a of a brain fog.

Oh shit, I'm gonna be featured on hoarders

I know what I want out of life right now. I want a clean slate. I want to start clean out my room until nothing else remains. Then one by one getting rid of things. Until finally I have a clean room and I have scrubbed my world clean of the past and I can let go.

But letting go isn't easy for me. I find so much joy in the past. And I want to keep it all. Some of it for memories sake, some of it because I feel like a failure if I get rid of things i considered for an art project I dropped. So I'm heading back in to therapy to deal with it.

Bravery

Here is the true beauty of being impulsive, you don't have to actively think to learn things. You just do them, and if you do them right you get praise. You do them again, just as thoughtlessly as before. It's taken me years and years to figure out what being present in a moment actually means.

Its also taken me years to figure out what true friendship means. It has taken me years to figure out what work means to normal people. Impulsivity also fuels random ass connections. And I feel the world spinning without me, sometimes I'm lapping it, sometimes I'm way behind. I just want to hit pause, and go and BE somewhere, and learn all the skills that my brain has denied me. The highlands of scotland. The jungles of thailand. The fjords of norway. I want to learns skills, but first I must acquire a new skill, bravery. 

So broken it is shattered

I just started to understand something about myself, I am a lover. And when I don't have love, I freak the fuck out. I try to do all of these things to make people give me their love, because in all honesty I am quick to anger, but I'm even quicker to forgive.

And like a child I expect the world to be like me. And because my world revolves around love, my heart breaks every time that the world isn't. And so now my heart is shattered, and I'm working on putting the pieces back together so I can run wild and free.

Exhaustion

My body is betraying me. Every night I have dreams that make me feel exhausted when I wake. I'm probably just lying to myself by saying I don't have anxiety about this whole cancer thing. But what can I do? I'm trusting my body that it needs rest and relaxation. I'm listening to it. I may get in trouble because I'm listening to what my body is telling me, its telling me I need sleep, its telling me to prepare for the worst. Its telling me to try and do my best to carry on. That is all I'm doing, it is all I can do. But it exhausts me.

Work

Some of you might know this already, but I am a costumer. Now I'm not sure I exactly deserve that title, seeing as I SUCK at it.

I know everyone is telling me to be more confident, but there is a difference between confident when your work is good, and being such when it is not. Unfortunately my work is not that good.

As in I can't sew in a straight line to save my life. And I am constantly getting in trouble for it at work.

And so I dyed my hair instead of finishing my dress...

Conversations with Myself

"You have to stop trying to prove a change to others, you are the only one you have to convince." She says to me as she lays on the overstuffed periwinkle blue fainting couch. Her dress is the perfect shade of purple to match the couch, with darker purple beads making swirling designs all over her body. She holds her head high, even when she is lounging. She is me, as I want to be.

With all the grace of a lioness she stands and crosses the lush carpet on her way to me. She turns me to face the gilded mirror. "You are who you wish to be." She says to me.
"Then why am I this way?" I look at my reflection, standing next to hers. I am plump and homely, my hair is in knots, and where it isn't tangled it is greasy and stringy. I'm wearing frumpy overalls and a sweat stained t-shirt underneath. Next to her I look even worse. I try to look away but she grabs my chin and forces me to stair my reflection down. "You can't run away from yourself, you are all you have in the end. " Her gray eyes look into mine, they are the same: ever changing blues, greens, and grays of the ocean.
"But it is hard, no one else wanted me, even when I was an innocent child, why should I want myself? I just want to be able to live my life, make beautiful things, tell my stories. Do I have to accept myself to do that, can't I just keep going the way I have been?"
"Tell me, how is that working out for you?"
"Fine, my life hasn't been so great, but its because everyone hates me!"
"Is that true? Because you know it isn't. You need to accept that you've gotten yourself in some bad situations and that has hurt you, but now it is time to hold your head high and move on."
"I've tried that."
"Yes, you have. But you need to keep trying until you are doing it all the time. It isn't easy, but it is worth it."
"How is it worth it? I'm still changing to please all these other people?"
"Oh really, who are you trying to please by doing this?"
"Him."
"You realize that he only wants this for you because he knows it is what is best for you?"
"Whatever."
"Look you whine about not having somebody by your side all the time, hes been there through thick and thin. Even when it was killing him inside. He loves you even though you are intent on hurting yourself and making yourself sick. And you think that he doesn't care. Just because he isn't Mr. Prince charming doesn't mean that he doesn't love you. And the only reason he wants you to change is because you are slowly but surely killing yourself this way."
"Am not."
"Oh really look at yourself."

I flinch as I look at my reflection, it doesn't belong in this perfect room, it doesn't belong here with this airy being. But this place is my invention, so why am I the only thing that looks wrong here?
"Fine. You win." I start to take things out of my pockets. All the ugly words that kids called me in grade school, the rumors from middle school, the death threats from high school, and the lies from college. I take their ugly bruised forms to the beautiful trashcan next to the desk. I hesitate as I throw them in, She places a hand on my shoulder, "Let it be." she sings to me and I let the memories float into the trash, along with all the pain and misery they caused. She smiles to me and hands me a match, I strike it against the box and throw it in. We stand for a moment, watching the tongues of flame lick away the ugly shapes of my past.
"And the rest?" She says.
"I have nothing left to burn." I am confused, I let go of the memories, what else could their be.
"You have yourself, the most important part."
"Oh." I blush. I start to strip out of the ugly dirty overalls, I throw them into the trash can. They give a satisfying crackle. Next goes my t-shirt. I'm standing in my underwear, but I'm not shivering.
"I meant all of it." She smirks. She has my dimple on my right cheek. I sigh, as I throw the ratty bra and stained underwear into the flames.

"There," She says as she guides me back across the room towards the mirror. "Don't you feel better now?"
"I guess."
She gently punches my arm. "Don't lie."
I sigh and punch her back. "Yes, I feel free."
"Good, take a look at yourself now."
I can't believe it, it is as if this perfect creature and I are twins

My long blonde hair falls just past my shoulders and skimming the tops of my perky breasts. My waist gently curves in and curves back out to some very lady like hips. My long lean legs have the look of pin up model. But my face is the most surprising of all, it glows with a beauty that no makeup can ever replicate, it is a glow of peace. My eyes sparkle with this revelation.
"Thank you."
"It is nothing." She smiles. "Just remember this takes work, it isn't going to be easy, you are going to have to get your hands dirty."
"When has that ever stopped me before?"
"Plenty of times."
"Oh shush you, I mean on my actual projects."
"Plenty of times."
I laugh, "Fine, you're right, as usual."
"You know it."
I smile.
"Look its time you start your new life. I'll always be here when you need me."
"Thanks."

I open my eyes and smile, the bright morning sunlight hurts, but it is a good hurt. It is good to be alive.

Yeah, I work out!

Lately this has been the time of doing. And I actually have been doing BEFORE I write something about it. Revolutionary concept I know. So what have I been doing you might ask, well I have been working out. I want flat abs baby. I have nice legs and a great butt, but I got some pudge around the tummy and you know what that is okay, but working out actually helps my depression! So I'm making a goal, I wish I could change my diet too, but that is going to have to wait until I can cook my own food. But you know what, I want to be stronger, I want to have that dream body. To be able to do the gymnastics I want to do.

Me, as an artist

Okay so the best friend sent me to this today. I've read the Ira Glass quote before, but I tend to forget it. Mostly because I choose to live my life in fear of judgement and failure. Rather than to push myself to  work towards something greater, because pushing myself like that hurts. There is this quote by the Marines, "Pain is only weakness leaving the body." I am unwilling to push through that pain of judgement and fear and to fight for who I could be. It is much easier to wrap myself up in the cloak of imagination, procrastination, maybes, and excuses.

In short, I am lazy and I don't want to work to be good at something. I want to wave a wand and be magically perfect at everything I try.

Today, my thought process magically stumbled onto why I am so lazy. I am not afraid of physical work, I can sit and knit, sew, draw, what have you for hours on end. Unless I am being pressured. Pressure makes me turn into a blubbering lump of a human being. Because pressure to me equals harassment and bullying. I have trained my mind to use fear as a motivator, negative reenforcement as a teacher, and pain as a reward.

So when someone says to me, "Hey Lilly are you going to be finished with those by 10, because we need them by then." I hear this, "Oh my god Lilly you are SO slow! If you don't get those done by 10 my personal feelings about you will be forever ruined and I will make sure everyone else hates you too!"

And then I go on to freak out about how terrible I am at this and how I'm never going to have it done by then, wasting valuable time wallowing rather than working. I am so afraid of making a mistake that I shut down and stop functioning. When I really need to do my best work and accept that it isn't going to be perfect. Sometimes people are going to be unhappy with you. All that matters is that you had an experience and you learned from it.

Untitled

You're life is not a movie. It is not a book. It is not a TV show. Your life is real, it is rugged, it is rough, it is honest and it is ugly. And these qualities are what makes it real. At least for a moment.

Because as soon as that moment is gone we start editing, we cut down, polish, and distress our lives into whatever we want it to look like. We get so caught up in setting up this perfect picture that we forget to look in the moment and appreciate it for the only true scrap of reality we have.

I'm not sure if this is why I hate editing or that I never write anything truly wonderful. Why I've trapped myself in this cage and wont explore anything outside of what I deem as proper. And I keep trying to break these mental chains and live my life. Yet somehow I'm still stuck here.

So I go on.

Cancer

So this is going to be a little bit sad. But I am nothing but an honest person.

I might have cancer, this wouldn't be such a big deal but because I might have cancer, it is likely that I will have to have one of my organs removed.

I will fight this, because that is who I am.

Lady

You know that friend who always has those crazy ideas. That is usually me. Though I typically just keep calm and carry on. Today is not one of those days. Today I had the idea of becoming a lady.

It is my own personal belief that only highlighting the virtues of gentlemanly behavior is rather sexist. And complaining that we don't attract enough gentlemen is just hypocritical.

So I intend to become a lady. Let us see how this goes.

Experiments

So I have gone off facebook for a month. I had my roommate change my password and then logged out. Mostly because I hated feeling like I am missing something. All these people posting on each others walls, being friendly, and me, just sitting there watching. It makes me feel so alone. So I've decided that I will fix the problem. So for the next month I will not be signing on, I've had my roommate change my password and logged out. Hopefully she doesn't do anything mean to me while I'm away.

Along those lines I've started making a checklist of things to do, trying to become more organized and feel better. Because this whole mopey depressive thing is ruining my life, and I have to get it under control.

Love is All You Need

I call bullshit. Love is most definitely not all we need. And some of you might say well no shit! We need food, we need water, we need shelter. Fine, I'm talking about emotional needs.

I had a really good conversation with my roommate about things that have been going on these days. What I want out of my current romantic relationship. I don't want to talk about it here cause he might still read this stupid old thing, but I'm not sure. Though I'm bursting to talk about it.

I'm bursting to talk about everything I've discovered. But I'm scared shitless that this is done. Even though I know life will go on. I am still scared because I'm finally starting to accept myself. I keep saying that, but I feel like the self is as deep as the ocean and we might never figure out who we totally are. And I'm okay with that. I want to spend the rest of my days enjoying the gift I've been given.

So here I am, debating if I should post this.

Who I am

When it is all about me, I am selfish. When it is all about you, I am not myself.


I read a beautiful post a few days ago that touches on this. Of course it stayed with me because of it is relevant to my current situation. If you don't want to read the whole post here is a quote that I think sums it up "We end up honouring surface wants over the real life meat of who we are and the work that we do."-Schmutzie It has gotten to the point for me where I don't know what I truly want anymore. I have become so afraid of being who I am that it is a struggle of epic proportions to find what my heart wants.


What I want most is to be great. I grew up reading all these stories about epic adventures, and I wanted nothing more than to be the hero in one of those adventures. I wanted to save the world and all that jazz. I played all sorts of adventures with my dearest neighborhood friend. We would jump off tables trying to fly. We would play lord of the rings out in the backyard. And if one of us was acting too grown up we'd chastise each other for losing our imagination.


Somewhere along the way we drifted apart and I hid my imagination deep down inside of me. Too afraid to show it because it wasn't "proper". People don't want to be around the girl who takes jokes too far or says things that others don't understand. So now I have to learn to be a child again. Because my soul is aching to release the ideas that I've hidden away. 


So now I'm doing what my heart tells me and working on saving my school department, because this is my life and I deserve to try and help make things right.

Confessions of a Racist

I am white. I am proud to be who I am. And I hope you are proud of who you are. I don't assume you are any different from me. I don't assume that you are like me either. I certainly wont treat you differently because of it.

But I am a racist. I am naturally a racist because I'm white. I want to oppress you, just like my ancestors did. 

Because I am white and middle class and my parents have some money I must have no idea what it is like in the real world.

Because I enjoy doing hair and offer to help you with yours when you complain, I am a racist.

Because I try to laugh off your assumptions about my race, I am a racist.

Because I see you as human before I see your ethnicity, I am a racist.

Because I believe in respecting others needs, I am a racist.

Because I am blonde not only am I racist but I am stupid.

I don't understand. Maybe I can't understand. All I know is that one of the random labels that has been pinned on me is now racist.

People's Opinions

When I started this blog I meant to write about humor and day to day life. Then it became a sort of therapy. And then a way of making sure that I worked on my book. I used as a last thread to a connection I feared I'd lost forever. I've used this blog for lots of things, but not many of them actually focus on more than the personal.

I actually read the comments about something, I never read comments and for a good reason. Comments upset me, I hate to watch people devolve the way they do, fighting over something that they think is the end all and be all at that moment. Sometimes it is justified, but I feel like people have started to assume that just because someone has an opinion this person believes that thing is a fact. What ever happend to having an opinion and live and let live? I feel like we all feel like we are all missionaries that must convert the whole wide world. Yet when we close the tab, we walk away from our desks into real life do we have the fire about that topic anymore? Do we live our lives dedicated to that issue that we just had to enter the fray about? Maybe some of you do, and thats great. And don't get me wrong, I'm not against posting your opinion. I'm not against people of different ideas having discourses. I just worry, and I wonder what this world is coming to. Hopefully something good.

Actions Speak Louder than Words

This is a funny blog post to be writing, its a weird blog post to be writing. Words have been my whole life, I thrive on words, they give me life. Yet I can remember being a little and making noises trying to indicate my frustration, that I wanted help. I was alway yelled at when I final let out that guttural scream of I quit. If you needed help why didn't you ask for it? I thought I was asking for it? I thought the fact that I was visibly getting more and more agitated was proof. From then on I learned to put all of my faith in words.

Words are the only way that my parents told me they loved me, because their actions never showed it. And the older I've gotten the more their actions have shown contempt and dislike for me. And it hurts, because I can't survive. I am broken.

And yet I'm fighting, I'm always fighting. I'm bloody determined to beat this thing. But I've been fighting the wrong ways, I've been fighting to make others achieve things for me, and it just doesn't work that way. It never will work that way.

And then sometimes I turn around and I see all that I have lacked is standing there right beside me. And I want to fall down and weep because I don't know how to show that I understand. I dont know how to show. So I wrote this. Now I have to act it.

Ideal Lilly

Who is the ideal Lilly?

The ideal Lilly is kind of a bad ass. Don't mean to brag, but she gets stuff done.

She's smart. She isn't afraid of putting people off with it.

She's strong. She knows how to use her body and can preform all kinds of feats with it.

She's creative. She has all these ideas and knows how to execute them.

She's self disciplined. She knows how to work with herself to make sure that she is the best she can be.

But most important of all, ideal Lilly is brave. She does not let her fear stop her.

So real Lilly is going to start by working on her most tangible fear, her fear of birds.

Butt out

So after writing that post yesterday I had a talk with my best friend. He said I was getting there. I asked what I could do, since I was kind of jealous of him getting to be around people and invited places. He said be less shy. So I started thinking, why I am shy?

Lets start with how am I shy? I have trouble putting myself out there. Talking with random people and making conversations. I can stand there and listen, invisible, but talk. I can't do.

How did this come about? I wasn't always like this. I guess the short answer is kids are mean. Really, really mean. I really don't understand how kids make friends. Because when I tried to do the whole putting myself out there thing, I was pushed out. Again, and again. I got told it was creepy to listen to people's conversations, that I shouldn't butt in. Maybe I was doing something wrong then. But I sure haven't learned the right thing to do in the past 10 years.

I'll be talking to my therapist about it. Until then...

The Sin of Fear

I live in my own little world. Everyone does. Everyone, at least I think, have the capability to do what I have done. To make nothing outside of what I want to believe exist. Everything to me is like a story, where the main character is the one who influences everything, that they have extreme and ultimate control over all. I guess you could say I have something of underdeveloped empathy. Its hard for me to see out side of my small sad little world. And often times I confuse the hell out of people because I talk like they will know exactly what I mean. And when they don't I get very flustered. And defeated. In fact I get this way about almost anything that doesn't go my way. I'm a perfectionist, in everything I do.

And I can feel the fear rise up in my throat, like bile. Because I'm not sure that anyone can make any sense out of what I'm trying to say. I'm trying to lay out my sins for all the world to see. If it pleases them. I'm not evil, but I am ignorant. I sit here in my world and I shut everything out because I am afraid. I am afraid of failing. I'd rather whine about all I don't have because I am too afraid to fight it. I'd rather spread my poisonous words across the universe. I am making myself miserable.

I'm always trying to avoid the world. Yet I'm wickedly jealous. But I'm so anxious that I fuck it all up. And like some sick washing machine the cycle starts all over again.

All because I am so sensitive. Everything bugs me. One little thing can ruin a whole day. I fixate, I focus, and I hurt. All because of fear.

I remember I time before I knew fear, I remember what put this fear into me. And I don't know how to deal with it because to me the reaction is anger.

Fear and Anger. My two sins.

I'm so angry because I try so hard and it isn't working. I lost friends for no good reason. I look around and I realize I've become far too successful at shutting myself off from this world. I don't know how to connect with people. And I am far too self centered. And I make myself sick. I've put myself in a cage because of fear. And every day I make this cage more secure because every day brings a new reason to fear.

I am the only one with the key. I can set myself free. And sometimes I do. But I need to step out of my cage once and for all. Using this key, there is no universal truth. What is true to me may or may not be true to me. I must respect that your truth is different than mine, even if you don't respect my truth. Each life has value. I will respect that person's opinion. Even if it angers me. Because that opinion has no effect on me unless I choose to let it.

Materialism and Memory

I didn't realize how attached I was to my things until I seriously started getting rid of stuff. I've always been something of a packrat. I blame it on my creativity, I see uses for things, everything. And I always think that I will get to it eventually. I also have a nearly photographic memory. So almost everything in my room has a memory behind it. This makes cleaning difficult to say the least. Even the pages of books hold memories for me. Hell even something that doesn't have any waking memory connected to it can awaken memories of dreams.

But what I can't remember is ideas, goals, dates, the important things! This is very frustrating seeing as I can remember almost everything else. So I've written down the two things I'm allowed an excess of, and my Four goals for the year.

My two allowances of excess:
Books and Craft/Art supplies.

My Four goals:
Keep a Schedule- I've written up an extensive weekly routine and I intend to keep it.
Be Mindful- This is my way of trying to make myself a better buddhist, and a better person.
Keep Organized- I need to really get my life in order and I want to keep working at it.
Be Confident!- I'm not the most confident person. I feel the need to change that.