Auld Lang Syne

The clock struck twelve and the calendar’s reset. It’s a new year bursting with resolutions, revelations, and lessons learned.

Times. Long. Past.

The Shadow of Envy

Social media is a weirdly contrived construct. It’s so easy to become wrapped up in the stories people are telling, to become envious and grasping at the portrait of the things they have. A portrait because we feed our followers what we want them to see. We control the information. Whether it’s an accurate representation of our lifestyle is another matter entirely.

If we’re not careful, we become works of fiction.

Confessions from the Inkwell: Writing to Achieve Balance

Don’t be afraid; people are so afraid; don’t be afraid to live in the raw wind, naked, alone… 

Learn at least this: 

Let nothing stand in your way. 

-Tony Kushner, Angels in America

There are times when I experience swells of emotion. Words stop in my throat because I’m not quite sure how to transcribe all feeling. As a writer who prides herself on self-expression, this can present quite the conundrum. If you placed me in a specific environment and asked me to describe what I saw, felt, tasted – I would take no issue. I could effortlessly pull from my mind words and phrases to paint a picture, more a mood. Evoking responses in the written sense is often effortless. It’s just how I’m wired.

On Pushing Back: A Lesson in Improvement

“When I’m criticized unjustly (from my own viewpoint, at least), or when someone I’m sure will understand me doesn’t, I go running for a little longer than usual. By running longer it’s like I can physically exhaust that portion of my discontent. It also makes me realize again how weak I am, how limited my abilities are. I become aware, physically, of these low points. And one of the results of running a little farther than usual is that I become that much stronger. If I’m angry, I direct that anger toward myself. If I have a frustrating experience, I use that to improve myself.” 
― Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

Recognizing Emotional Blind Spots: A Global Take

My extraverted intuition is wildly running her fingers along multiple issues today. I am once again made aware of the problems in our world and humanity’s capability of developing blind spots at every turn.

Typically, blind spots are, as their name suggests, areas that we cannot see. Let’s venture into the land of metaphors. I’m not referring to a blind spot that’s physically present (like that of a car), but rather areas in which we are emotionally blind. That is, with others we may recognize a present issue but cannot see it (or do not want to recognize) when it applies to ourselves. We are too close, too numb, too absorbed with other affairs.

Consequently, we may recognize said issue for a moment (say, during a heated debate or when globally relevant), but once it has cooled and exhausted all its newsworthy claim, the issue once again fades to the backdrop.

I’m heavily side-eyeing the debate of allowing Syrian refugees to enter the United States and the governors who are speaking out about not accepting said fleeing citizens.

Firstly: Do I need to cite Lady Liberty’s creed? Do I really need to go there? Have Americans forgotten that we are, by definition, a melting pot of all cultures?

Secondly: Have they ever been to Ellis Island? This is grade school history – which by the way, wasn’t my subject but I still remember important points and facts.

Thirdly: State-wide legislation does not have the power to decide if they will accept refugees. Once lawfully admitted under federal law, no state has the power to deny them entrance or abode. So when you think about it, the governors who have come out and said they will not willfully admit refugees are pretty much an example of children throwing tantrums. Instead of inflaming fears and concerns they should be providing solutions and plans that substantiate their reasoning.

People are climbing on their soapboxes and getting up in arms about taking care of Americans first and the potentiality for terrorists to capitalize on compassion, thereby sneaking in to our nation disguised as refugees.

Holding such views are perfectly fine, but the troublesome bit occurs when people provide excuses for their worldview – deemed excuses because they become scapegoat theories when no action proceeds the belief.

If you’re saying that Veterans should be helped first, but do not make an effort to consciously make a difference – congratulations, you’re perpetuating a blind spot. You are removing yourself from accountability and the situation by saying someone else should deal with this matter and yet, I am still entitled to my position and my voice and I am just and right.

Who has power if not the people? We are a democracy. We choose to run for office. We elect who stays and who goes and we often forget the power we possess.

We have become afraid of our largeness and instead elect to engage in modes of pleasure seeking distraction. We dismiss these concerns willfully because the action it takes to generate a solution seems too difficult, and “living in America entitles me to a life where I shouldn’t have to worry about these things.”

It’s easier to read about tragedy, to superficially empathize with it when it doesn’t personally affect our individual worlds. But here’s the thing, if you trace back far enough someone, somewhere, in your bloodline faced similar tribulations.

Now I know this is a hard line in the sand and that there are people who go out of their way to make a difference in the lives of others. These are the activists of our country and they should be held in highest of regards.

Everyone is entitled to their beliefs, but as educated individuals we should hold ourselves to higher standards. It’s imperative that we recognize the power of our own accountability. The cliché, “Put your money where your mouth is,” is most apt here.

If you want to help people – help people. Drawing a distinction that some are more important than others is a slippery slope. Human life is human life is human life.

Making the world a better place and is only achieved when we wake up and do something about it.

A talking head may attract an audience, but it’s the doers who incite change. The first step, as always, is diagnosing the problem. The second is taking action.

Now that you’re aware a blind spot exists, what will you do about it?

[Interested in donating to some worthy causes? Check out Time to Climb‘s entry, “Actions Speak Louder than Words.”]

 

Deconstructing “I Don’t Care”: On Apathy & Limitation

Everyone who’s human experiences days, weeks, months, or even years of I don’t care. It’s getting stuck in a cyclical loop of apathy when most of us are just trying to survive. We do this by not emotionally investing in people, situations, or events that tend to drain our energy. This can clearly be recognized as a defense mechanism. In essence we stop engaging, pursuing life with gusto and vigor, and delving deep into our passions. More often than not, we hit a metaphorical wall, bang our heads, curse, and proceed to complain about not being able to progress and grow.

The Pervasiveness of Homesickness

The mark of a learned mind is the ability to fold and exist within ideas not wholly understood by a significant portion of mankind. A writer (a learned one) takes great joy in exploring their depth and discovering how they relate to others in a broad sphere.

Words function as such: to divulge. And as much as they are utilized for explanation purposes, those well versed in their rendering also have words function as a shield. I would be remiss to say that I never hid behind my words (a coward’s errand). But sometimes it’s necessary to test to the waters, to see how much another party is interested in peeling back the layers. Humans, by nature, crave understanding where judgment is reserved. Unfortunately it is rare to find individuals who proffer unbiased understanding. We are ego. We are absorbed in our very being and at times it is extremely difficult to deal with our own baggage – let alone the issues of someone else. This is where self-actualization comes in, but that isn’t the purpose of this post.

Let’s operate under the assumption that we have met people who on some existential level, get us. There exists this gratifying emotional return balanced by compassion and acceptance. It is unbiased and does not boast. It simply is. Now we can never tell how long the people with whom such a relationship is fostered will be in our lives. In truth, we should be thankful for whatever experiences we are blessed to have with them. It’s all too likely, however, that we grow attached to those who incite our growth. A perfect world would ensure that these people remain a part of our lives forever. As you’ve probably already guessed, the world isn’t perfect and neither are people or relationships.

A foundational belief I hold is thus: we grow together or we grow apart. It may seem simplistic, but people either contribute to your world or they detract from it and when the latter happens, it’s time to move on.

This isn’t easy and more often than there are remnants of attachment. It’s a longing for the past, for the comfort of an individual or circumstance that breeds a sort of homesickness – for situations and memories, but not necessarily for the person.

One of the saddest instances is when people who were integral to who you were are extricated from your life (for some reason or another). You can know with certainty that the relationship could not continue on for it no longer was healthy nor served you. However, this doesn’t diminish the the residual sadness of knowing that where once something existed, there is now nothing. The intimacy has vanished, becoming a shadow, a stranger.

We become homesick for memories as much as we do places.

When I think of losing people I loved whether by my hand or their’s, I can’t help but pause. It’s not that I wish I still had them in my life – for my greatest progression toward change occurred with them gone – but that…well, the shock and pervasiveness of loss, prevails. It can be likened to a phantom limb on the emotional spectrum. I know this existed once. It’s gone now, but the memories remain. This makes me wonder if absence (of people and understanding) is the root of all heartache.

My greatest advice is not to become embittered when reliving these memories. We are who we are because of the people we met and the times we shared. Paying homage to them, experiencing the depth of emotional discord, and (here’s the key) moving forward is the greatest way honor who we were and who we will become.

There are days that will be harder than others. Times when we won’t feel completely understood, when people will dismiss this ennui as a wish to transport ourselves back in time to relive the situation – or else to return to an unhealthy relationship. The beauty of each individual’s personal humanity is that we all experience life at varying depths. That’s okay. Find those who understand and reserve judgment. We had it once and we’ll have it again.

Let it be what it was, simply – I miss what we had together, when we grew side by side, instead of apart – breathe, and move forward.

Understanding the why of our feelings is the first integral step in knowing ourselves.

Perfecting Self-Alchemy

Maybe this title is a bit of a misnomer. High expectations always serve to shoot one in the foot, but I’m talking about a process, not an endgame and that makes all the difference.

The original definition of alchemy is the process by which matter is transformed. In particular, attempts were made to convert base metals into gold or to find a universal elixir.

So basically there’s a bunch of crotchety old renaissance men searching for the shortcut to something wonderful.

But when you look at it (and I mean, really look at it), alchemy, at its core, is all about transfiguration. So let’s take a universal principle and apply it to the rich inner life we all secretly live. You know, the one rife with  hopes and dreams and the image we hold of ourselves: of who we want to be and who we wish we were.

C. Assad urges us to “close [our] eyes and imagine the best version of [ourselves]…[L]et go of any part of you that doesn’t believe it.” And though drenched in tacky sentimentalism (because most of us have become jaded cynics in our “mature” age), I have to agree. The truth is, if you don’t believe in yourself (or consequently have a support network that believes in you), you’re not going to achieve much of…well, anything.

Have you ever noticed that when trying to phase out a bad habit (like smoking, for instance), a person will say that he/she’s doing it for someone else? For example, the kids. The “I want to be around for them when they get older,” phrasing immediately comes to mind. I propose that it’s a great deal easier to enact a healthy life style change when we tell ourselves that it’s for the sake of someone else, especially when it’s hurting someone we care about.

Unfortunately many of us belong to the jaded personhood society. That is to say, we don’t always take an accurate measure of our self worth. It’s much easier to pull ourselves from a dark place because people need us or to make them proud. This is due to the fact there’s a distinct emotional return, which, conversely, sits in direct opposition from doing something because it’s good for us. What will be possibly achieve achieve – besides better health and peace of mind? These two things don’t hit the satisfaction center quite as much as emotional reinforcement from another person does.

Enacting positive changes for other people is an okay thing to do – so long as it is indeed a healthy choice and not masked purely by the desire to please others. It’s important that you’re personally invested in some way, shape, or form.

Let’s get personal.

When I think about my childhood, I have a pretty distinct memory that crops up time and time again. I am in the basement with my sister and cousin and for some reason, they kind of annoyed me. I was the runt of the litter (youngest at the time with 3/4 years between said sister and cousin) and I liked to garner attention. We were talking about standing up for oneself and in general, embracing badassery. Little me immediately climbed on the couch, put up her dukes, and with a jump and kicking motion, professed her desire to learn karate.

Now, I’ve always been drawn to the martial arts, but have never had the opportunity to engage. My sister danced for a while and I did the same thing for…five years? The reason being, karate was too expensive and my sister already had time invested aforementioned activity.

Fast forward to my college years when I dropped in to take a karate class that my Uncle attended. I wasn’t into exercising at the time and all the running around and cardio upset my breakfast. I promptly threw up halfway through the workout. Talk about an ego destroyer.

In 2008, I began consistently going to the gym. There have been times I’ve fallen off the wagon due to the health reasons, but since January of this year I’ve remained rather steady. One of my greatest accomplishments is building strength – particularly in classes using weights. Even though I make the conscious effort to workout and be healthy, I often slide back into my childhood mentality of embracing suck in the athletic arena.

I was always last to run the mile, I could never consistently serve a volleyball over the net, and I got severe anxiety whenever I was up to bat (or kick) for a specific sport. I was only ever comfortable playing badminton.

I never learned to feel connected with my body. While most children experience this at a young age (through sports), I was busy feeling socially outcast in community ventures. I was a very sensitive and introspective child who was terrified of failure and in truth, I still hold these qualities.

Here’s the thing: I enjoy pushing myself and getting out there and testing my strength. It’s the judgement and thought of failure that I abhor. So, what happens when supportive people enter your life and encourage you try new things while subsequently reserving (re: completely demolishing) judgement?

You grow.

The first time I ran, I wanted to die. I wanted to trip my supportive boyfriend, hail a cab, go home, and indulge in a hot and steamy bubble bath. The only reason I ventured beyond my comfort zone was because I didn’t do a lot of cardio and he was (and is) extremely active and patient with my hesitance in the physical realm. And maybe a small part of me wanted to impress him (because panting, sweating, and cursing earns major relationship points, right?).

He kept encouraging me and I ended up running a mile and pushed myself to alternately walk and jog an additional 1.85 miles. Of course I couldn’t get the hang of stairs for the next few days and my body felt completely demolished, but I was alive and breathing and I had proven something to myself.

So stuff like this is hard in the beginning but it does gets easier.

There’s also a certain high that comes from accomplishing physical feats. In all honesty, I dreaded running more than I  looked forward to it, but I always felt that rush afterwords and I fell in love with it. So I would tell my boyfriend when I planned to go on runs or when I completed them – 1. to hold myself accountable and 2. because I knew he would provide me with emotional boost necessary to keep doing this stuff over and over again.

Two weeks ago I was in my favorite nostalgia point, a beach town at the tip of New Jersey that I’ve been vacationing at all my life. For some reason, this earwig of running on the beach at sunrise wormed its way into my brain. So on the second day of vacation, I made sure I had my toes in the sand before 6am. Barefoot, I made my way to the water and set off on a 2.5 mile run.

Nature’s reward for getting up so freaking early.

It was invigorating. It was beautiful. My mind pulled John Mayer’s “3×5” to forefront of my consciousness:

You should have seen that sunrise with your own eyes. It brought me back to life.

And yeah M-dog. It did. It really did. As my feet splashed through water and my muscles ached, all I could think about was my attempt to follow through with what my mind had suggested.

I ran three times that week. Biked twice. Kayaked. Walked. And, in a rare twist of fate, stumbled upon a Beach Run 5K … which I signed up for … two days before the event took place (and consequently the day my family and I would be leaving vacation).

It was another earwig that made me do it because science and proving one’s self worth! I was absolutely terrified, but I knew that if I was going to run my first 5K, then this would be the perfect place to start. I’ve also come to realize that the timing is never quite right and it’s best to throw oneself into things before one has too much time to talk oneself out of it. (I will probably be kicking myself when this advice is used against me later.)

So at 8am on Sunday August 8th, I joined 300 people on the beach for a very nerve-wracking experience.

What your very happy author looked like upon completing her first 5K.

Spoiler alert: I did it. I ran the entire 5K straight through without stopping and achieved a time of 41 minutes and 23 seconds. I didn’t finish last (added bonus). And when things were over, I gasped for air and cried like a baby. I was also rewarded with a very sweet belgian waffle breakfast.

You know what’s funny? I haven’t gone on a run since the marathon. Sure, I’ve been doing other exercise and hiking, but running? Nope. I’m going to change that today.

Perfecting self-alchemy isn’t about attaining some golden standard. It’s not immediate success, but the continued effort and enthusiasm necessary to keep moving forward. The process can be likened to  metal working. How do metalsmiths make their medium stronger? They put it over flame and hammer it incessantly, folding and changing its shape. That’s how you render steel. That’s how you transform yourself.

You are what you put into your journey. Surround yourself with amazing people. Take risks and embrace challenges. You’ll be surprised by what you’ll accomplish. I guarantee it.

Fearing the Known: Conquering a Double-Back Trail

People always talk about fearing the unknown, how not being able to fathom what fills the empty space causes the greatest sense of anxiety. Too much possibility is paralyzing, especially when one’s brain goes to the deepest darkest groove.

However I’d like to make an argument against that. Though people find themselves bemoaning the what if’s of the world, I also believe that knowing what’s coming next can be just as terrifying.

There, in solid form, lies what must be conquered. No fantasy, no idealistic fodder of, “Things may be better,” simply what is: concrete, factual, present.

It’s a lot like experiencing object permanence, understanding that “objects continue to exist even when they cannot be observed (seen, heard, touched, smelled or sensed in any way)” (Wikipedia).

This section of developmental psychology is one of the most important accomplishments that babies experience (from 0-2 years of age). For example: an infant cries when his mother leaves the room. The baby doesn’t know that the mother still exists somewhere else, just that she’s gone. All that wailing is really a reaction to perceived loss.

Fear operates in a similar fashion. It’s a concept, a physiological reaction. We can’t see it and it’s not something we can touch, but we sure as heck feel it. It’s  the flinch, a lesson in classic conditioning. Much like mother leaving the room, even though it’s not constantly present we know it still exists. It’s possible then, by extension to live one’s life in fear of fear, and to adjust one’s choices accordingly.

The pervasiveness of this feeling functions as such: many people know what they’re scared of and allow these feelings to stop them in their tracks. Object permanence is, in essence, inverted. By actively attempting to avoid the experience of fear, we end up living half-heartedly, boasting pragmatism (a brittle defense) to forego a negative outcome. Knowing the consequence and dangers of foolhardy actions breeds caution, which becomes a shield of choice, a barrier to new experiences. We fear the sting simply because we know it exists.

This a defense mechanism meant to keep us safe, which is wonderful when balanced with an equal measure of calculated risk. When overused and leaned too heavily upon, fear makes us smaller, less apt to attempt and live our lives in a way that fosters growth. Our comfort zones shrink and we attempt to stay where we feel most at home.

So what happens when you know what’s coming next and there’s no way to avoid it? The methodology of, “The best way out is through,” is most apt here.

You’re probably wondering about the title of this piece. More often than not, I draw from symbolism in my life when it comes to dealings with psychological theories. Yesterday I was speaking with my boyfriend about a recent hike and referenced our trek up to Ampersand Mountain in the Adirondacks.

Trail of bald wet rock while climbing Ampersand Mtn (Adirondacks, NY).

The most frightening things about this hike were that as I climbed steep talis fields, hoisted myself with the help of roots through mud, and took care not to slip while planting my feet firm on water coated rock, I knew I would have to do the same things going downhill – with the bonus of gravity working oh so wonderfully with me. The chance of falling, twisting or breaking an ankle, and in general experiencing a panic attack, swelled to an all time high.

I had to stop repeatedly on the trail because these thoughts were so overwhelming. My heart raced from the increased activity. I grew dizzy and nauseous and as I looked up, all I could think about was coming back down the same way. Reason dictated that I couldn’t stop. If I stopped, I’d still have to climb down at some point and I wanted so badly to prove that I could accomplish such a physical feat. Beating my own personal demons of doubt would be an added bonus.

When my group finally made it to the top, we were rewarded with breathtaking 360° views of the Saranac Lake area. I couldn’t hold back tears – not because of the untold beauty before me, but because I accomplished something I never thought possible and I knew I would have to face the same fear on the way down.

View from the top of Ampersand Mtn (Adirondacks, NY).

From a realistic viewpoint, I knew there was no other way to get down than to just do it. So my group and I enjoyed a half hour break on the summit as we devoured lunch and snacks. Then it was time to go back the way we came.

Thank goodness for my boyfriend’s trekking poles. Everything was slippery and wet (it poured the night before) and the steepness of the climb really shook my confidence. Having these “crutches” (so to speak) made my anxiety a bit more bearable. I could actively lean into discomfort as I took baby steps down the trail. Even though my legs were shaking and my knees ached, I still found the courage to move forward.

[It also helped that my boyfriend checked in with me every so often. He gently turned me around and pointed at the steep incline I had traversed. “See? Take a look and recognize what you did. You’re doing it and you’re doing great.”]

So what kind of emotional “equipment” braces us to face fear – especially when we know it’s something that must be done?

Support: The constant reassurance of our nearest and dearest to believe in us when we don’t have the energy to believe in ourselves.

Courage: Borrowed strength from a support network and the gumption to keep going. This too, shall pass. We might as well take an active role and get there faster.

Perspective: How long will the discomfort last? Can you see the endgame? It’s important to realize that everything has an end – yes, even fear.

And the last one is…

Confidence: In oneself and one’s abilities. This takes a while to build up to but it has been and will always be the main goal. Confidence builds when people do something that they’re uncomfortable with repeatedly.

Fear is often the determinant of our personal limits. It’s not there to stop us, but to push us further out of our comfort zones (when applicable – we must do so with caution and in the safest possible manner).

Comfort, in life, is an illusion. We’ve all experienced the telltale signs of anxiety, the inability to move forward when fear seizes our limbs. However,  the repeated exposure to such stimuli lessens the effects, teaching us we are indeed capable of conquering such feeling.

We only become accustomed to an activity or in this case, the future, by thrusting ourselves into situations of discomfort. Even if we know what’s coming, even if we’re tentative and fearful, we must steadfastly trudge onward. Why? Because we have to prove what we’re capable of.

Make promises to yourself and keep them. Cultivate self-confidence. Grow into your fullest self. Keep moving forward.

Let nothing stand in your way, not even the fear of what looms around the bend.

In Service of the Genuine Self

“To believe in something and not to live it is dishonest.”

–Mahatma Gandhi

There’s always been a fire inside of me that I credit to the desire to live in perpetual wonder. I will never grow jaded. I will celebrate the miraculous with every breath I exhale.

The thought is, of course, generated because of my own experience. I’ve seen what stress does to the people I care about. How hate and disgust and lack of understanding warps a person’s personality to the point where he/she becomes this vengeful and accusatory thing. Living with such people is incredibly draining. Every motive is questioned, every action criticized, and when the norm becomes this behavior (instead of pleasant interaction), man oh man have you stepped in it.

The way we respond to people is a direct correlation to how we feel about ourselves at any given moment. For example, when stressed, our fuses are short – savvy? Hostility tends to take center stage and more often than not, we’re apt to interact with people in a harsher manner. It’s important to remind ourselves that the way people respond to us is rarely a reflection of how we present ourselves (unless one is being an ass-hat, then stop that). The fact is, we can approach a person or situation with the best intentions and yet, things won’t always go as planned.

As someone who is very sensitive, I find it hard to navigate through a world which is exceedingly judging. A critical eye or a shift in tone has the ability to send me reeling, to pitch my mood low and otherwise destroy what may have been an outstanding day. I’m an emotional sponge. It’s no secret that I need to work on boundaries and barriers when it comes to my own mental and emotional health.

Over the years I’ve become super wary about what I’m capable of energy-wise. My tolerance for stimuli has plummeted and if I’m to be truthful, this is directly proportionate to the stress in my life. More often than not, I find my body reacting in a “preventative measure” way. It’s very likely that I suffer from hypervigilance.

As Wikipedia puts it:

Hypervigilance is an enhanced state of sensory sensitivity accompanied by an exaggerated intensity of behaviors whose purpose is to detect threats … [and is also] accompanied by a state of increased anxiety which can cause exhaustion. Other symptoms include: abnormally increased arousal, a high responsiveness to stimuli, and a constant scanning of the environment for threats.[1][2]

Basically the central nervous system likes to run on the highest level. It’s the prick of electricity that keeps humming and scanning. For instance, my brain likes to play the game of how does so & so feel today? It’s funny how much you can tell about a person based upon how they move, the way they sigh, or the way they speak. Body language is king and I am constantly plugged into the moods of those around me. Then, taking it a step further, how will said emotional state affect me? How will they react?

It’s exhausting, especially when such means are used to circumvent conflict in an unhealthy manner. Hypervigilance also has roots in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

[Breathing slow because I need to get the words right.]

Now here’s where things get sticky: when you start adjusting  your actions and what you choose to say based upon the diffusion of conflict, of smooth sailing, when you become disingenuous in your reaction to others because it will cause ill-will, you are doing yourself a great disservice.

In general, our self-worth is tied to the people who play very important roles in our lives. Parents, siblings, friends, significant others, all of them are fighting their own battles and there are times when they’ll be incapable of experiencing life outside of their personal mainframe. And you know what? It’s going to feel like you’ve been abandoned, like others don’t care or you’re not worth the time. If you’re a highly sensitive person, you may begin to internalize the way they treat you as a reflection of your own self-worth. Please, don’t. Fight that with all your might and do something that makes you feel strong. Write. Go out and push your limits. Question. Climb a mountain. Read. Get our of the environment that steals your power and embrace whatever strength lies inside of you.

People are flawed and they won’t always be just or fair. For the sake of your integrity and your sense of self-worth, you’ve got to be in vibration with your own soul. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it. Speak up, say, “Hey, your behavior is really chafing me wrong and I’m a bit out of sorts today. Can you please not do that?” If they respond unkindly, know that you approached the situation to the best of your ability. Do not engage further. Walk away.

This is incredible advice, you know? It’s also difficult as all hell follow.

Personally, I draw strength from putting a pen to paper or writing anonymously as someone on the internet. It encourages me to take a look at my own wounds and to also find solutions. I’m braced by courage and a fresh perspective. I’m learning that in order to feel stronger, it’s necessary that I flex my strength in other areas of my life.

Indoor rock climbing. Hiking. Making it to the top of Mt. Ampersand. Waking up at 5am and running. Working out consistently 5-6x a week. Embracing new experiences. Expanding social circles. Practicing follow through. All of these things constantly challenge the mold of who I once was: a complacent young woman whose silence festered far too long, whose quietude acted as a defense mechanism as not to rattle cages or upset others. I began to think that standing still was the only way to prevent things from falling apart, that leaving situations which no longer served me was a form of abandonment.

To quote a poem I wrote in April:

You can turn your heart inside out baby,
inspect the holes, wondering why you weren’t good enough.
I know walking away scares you to the point of
rooting legs as redwoods in winter.

But honey, you’ve got to move.

We all have a voice and it’s imperative to use it every single day. It’s the only way we remain authentic human beings, that we continue to grow in healthy ways.

To keep that promise to myself, to stay wide-eyed with wonder and seek out the magnificent, to not be shaped by the cruelties of the world, that which twists and hampers the spirit, changing who we are at our core, is my greatest desire.

In order for that occur, I have to keep pushing – we all do. Emotional, mental, and physical fatigue be damned, If we stop, we get complacent. If we get complacent, we fall into old habits.

That’s the last thing I want.

For the sake of sounding corny and referencing the title of this blog, it’s imperative to breakout of preconceived notions. Too many people think that reaching adulthood means conforming to what the world wants you to be – punching into that 9-5, living a respectable life, ponying up with a life-partner, sticking with a job that pays the bills until retirement rolls around, then maybe traveling the world.

Give me adventure. Give me the fantastic. Give me a world brushed with such color that I never dream of going back to that gray way of thinking.

Security is a wonderful idea and when you grow up without it, you crave it all the more. Whether it’s financial or job-based doesn’t matter, we must be remember security doesn’t equate happiness.

It’s the challenge and scuffs that make life worthwhile, the – I don’t believe I can do this, but dammit I’m here and I’m dedicated – that inflames passion. Revealed and stripped bare, we finally recognize what we’re capable of.

I live for those moments and I know when they occur. When you tap into that genuine self and operate from its center, everything flows. There’s peace and happiness and gratitude and everything feels so calm, so right.

Making the intuitive leap and listening to that inner voice can be downright frightening. It’s blazing a new path unique to oneself. Quite honestly, I’m terrified, but if I don’t live earnestly, if I don’t embrace my ideals and wear them proudly – who am I?

I recognize the privilege of being alive and I will embrace and speak my truths. No more fear.