It’s ok to be confident

There’s some strange mindset that’s overtaken our culture and it’s the idea that if you show the world that you’re confident in yourself you’re somehow conceded, arrogant or cocky. Now I’m not talking about Kanye, my man is on a whole other planet when it comes to this; his “confidence” in my opinion is more of a delusion that money and fame built in his head. But any who, I digress.

Why can’t we not only be confident in ourselves and share it with others without getting an “ego” complex thrown on us?

If you’re feeling intelligent (or even better, if facts support this feeling) why not let that confidence shine?
If you’re having a day where you’re feeling attractive, why not walk with your head up high?

I want to challenge this subtle mindset society has today by saying this:

1. it’s ok to have confidence in who you are and live your life as so
2. it’s ok to think you’re attractive and walk with your chin up all the while radiating that confidence
3. it’s ok to know/believe you’re intelligent
4. it’s ok to feel sexy
5. it’s ok to know you have potential to reach your goals

I’ve spent many years believing that if I talked well about myself it was either undeserved, a lie to make myself feel better, or was somehow making me have an ego. But I’m learning as I continue living my life that hey, I’m fucking good at things that will get me places in life so who gives a shit if I let others know it? I’m not saying I go to classes everyday and brag to either my classmates or those I pass in the halls about what I got on that test, that paper or what my grade last semester was. That, my friends, would make me a Kanye West type of asshole. But what I do now, which is different than how I used to live my life, is go to school and believe that I’m smart enough to get those grades and I try to show my confidence not in my words but in my work. So I kind of went off on a tangent about myself (but it’s my blog so I guess I can do whatever I want to haha) but I want it to sink in for whoever it is that reads this that contrary to popular belief it’s fucking alright to have confidence in yourself and live life and act like you know it. Fuck what everyone else will think; as the old saying goes: if you got it, flaunt it.

*disclaimer: put your boobs away and dress modestly still folks. I wasn’t talking about dressing like you’re about to go to work on the corner or are trying out for a Kardashian spin-off show**

HAPPY HUMP DAY!!

love you guys and once again thank you so much for reading. 1,190 views today! Humbled and thankful for you all 🙂

Feeling A Moment

I had a moment today while visiting my Grandma. I was sitting in her room on the big chair that attempted to engulf me in the cushion; out of habit I glanced down at my phone, pressing the button so the screen would illuminate and I could see what time it was. Something in that particular moment hit differently for me though.

Before all of this happened to her, I remember taking her for granted. I guess you could say I was feeling guilt as I sat there, contemplating whether I should gather my things and go do the errands that were a part of my Sunday routine. I guess guilt is a good adjective to use here, because I found myself wishing I could go back and re-do all of those visits throughout my life up until last December. If I knew that this was the shit storm life or God or whoever would throw at her I would have spent more time with her, embracing her company and knowing that the love and life of my Grandma is fragile and can be gone in a matter of seconds.

I think as I sat there in that chair today, it was the first time I was really present in a moment as it happened. With difficult situations it is so hard to be there 100% mentally. Yes, I was there through everything the night me and my mom found her lying there inside her home. But I don’t think any of us were actually there mentally. The mind is a wonderfully powerful organ in ourselves. It was protecting me that night, and the last 11.5 months. Now I would kill to go back and be 100% present all of those days I spent with her.

I would go back and not ask my mom “how long until we leave?” or “I don’t want to go down today, can’t I just stay home?”

I was so fucking selfish when I was younger. If I could have even just one of those moments where I was begging to go home or whatever, I would shut my mouth and stay just so I could be with her and my family. I want to feel a moment, not just be physically present.

If I could talk to her and she talk back, I would apologize to her for not seeing her as much, for taking her for granted and just have a conversation I haven’t been able to have in so long. I want to be called her Grand-baby again.

Striving For 4.0

I am pretty amazed there’s only 2 more weeks left of school. This semester I entered into my junior year, declared a concentration in my major and started off with a 4.0 GPA. No pressure right?

But something happened as the semester went on. The classes aren’t exactly the easiest and I don’t think I’m going to be seeing that beautiful 4.0 on my DegreeWorks when the grades are finalized and entered in. This doesn’t mean I’m not working hard or am not determined to do the best that I can, I just really struggle when it comes to science and unfortunately it’s the one class that is probably going to make my GPA go down by who knows how much.

So now that I’m entering into the last week of classes and lectures, I’m feeling that pressure. I have so much to do, and I’m back at spending countless hours doing work just to boost my grades. I don’t know why I care so much about this but I do. My whole life I wanted to be great at something. I remember when I was looking into college when I was in high school my guidance counselor flat out told me I wouldn’t be accepted into any 4 year school with my grades; and I believed her because shit isn’t it their job to be honest and “guide” us? So I went from high school into the work field. Then of course when I hit 20 or 21 and realized working without a degree in anything wasn’t going to get me anywhere I decided to go back to school, not expecting to amount to anything. But I did. I found out that I was good at it, and it gave me a boost in the self-esteem department.

3 years later, I am at my dream school, pursuing a degree in clinical/counseling psychology and guess what? I’m fucking good at it. But I still face the need to prove myself. Not only to myself but to the school and my old guidance counselor who basically told me I wouldn’t amount to shit academically.

Most days I feel like I’m back to driving myself crazy, all for a number. Isn’t it weird how numbers define us? It may be pessimism but I’m not expecting a kick ass GPA this semester. But it doesn’t mean I’m not striving for it. I want to be the best at something, and in my own world, I know I’m the best at school. I love it, I’m passionate about what I’m studying and it honestly keeps me going on those days where I want to lay in bed all day and be depressed.

I’m still striving for that 4.0, but I’m learning that it doesn’t have to be consecutive semesters. It would be nice, but I still have 3 more semesters to go before I graduate and go to Grad school.

“Why Would God Punish So?”

“I probably sound like a hypocrite, but why would God punish so?”

Those words have been resonating inside my head for the past 2 or 3 days and unfortunately it’s a question I don’t think I’ll ever get the answer to. I mean you talk to people and they tell you God doesn’t cause us harm and that He is this Almighty and powerful being that can heal us and that He isn’t a punishing type of God. But I’m having a really fucking hard time believing in all of that shit as of late.

Ya know, I’ve been going around the past year or so convinced I wasn’t pissed off at God for what happened to my Grandma. Yes I pissed off and hurt that this God would heal other people and they had stories to tell of it, but then there’s my Grandma who also believes in God and she is in this place where she is a shell of a person, with no cure or “divine” healing. What the fuck did she do to deserve this?

So on Thanksgiving when I was spending time with my Grandma and her roommate called me over to talk to me about my Grandma and what happened, I was a little shocked that she said the statement I began this post off with. I understand though. I believe in God, but aren’t I also allowed to be fucking pissed off at him too?

The truth is I don’t know why God would punish someone as loving, caring and genuine as my Grandma. I don’t know why He chose to give her a stroke and heart attack, which in turn took away any shred of her independent life she had lived for the last 87 years. It’s not fucking fair, and it hurts. So why would God punish? Who the fuck knows.

Reaching Out for Help

Hey guys! So this post may be a little upsetting or whatever but as my followers I hope some of this resonates with you.

Today in therapy I was asked who I talk to outside of treatment/individual therapy about when I’m struggling. It’s a question I guess I never really thought about before, but when I was asked it with an intent of receiving an honest answer I couldn’t think of one single person.

Do you know how shitty and alone that made me feel? Hearing myself talk in that session about how I have no one I talk to when shit gets real in my life actually made me feel more alone (yeah I didn’t think that was possible either). But the thing that sucks is that I do have people I could talk to; my issue is that I don’t lean on others when I’m hurting.

I’ve always been a rock when it comes to others and even when it comes to showing emotions. Which is why therapy and treatment is so fucking unbelievably hard. I see people cry their eyes out and I sit back and wonder how they can let those types of emotions out in the presence of others. There’s nothing wrong with that at all, don’t get me wrong. I actually admire them in those moments, because that is real and true fucking shit right there. I’m working against 24 years of this belief that showing others when you cry is weak (emotional scars from bullying, anyone?) and emotions should be held back until you can control them. The biggest thing though is that I’m working against the belief I have that my problem MUST be severe enough to get help or feedback on. So unless I’m dying or my parents died (because to be upset my fucked up mind tells me only my parents are worth crying and mourning and laying in bed for weeks over), there’s really no reason to open my mouth and talk to my friends about things that I find triggering or stressful or whatever. You see my problem?

I fear of becoming the friend who is just the issue of the week. The one who always seems to be depressed (because being clinically diagnosed isn’t justifiable to why I am feeling the way I am) or emotionally unstable. “Bat shit crazy” isn’t something I want to become to my friends, or even the wet blanket of the group. I just want to be normal and have normal 24 year old problems.

So talking to my friends is probably something I should work on. Thanks for listening or reading or whatever you do on this blog, and thanks for letting me rant and bitch for a few paragraphs. Now, on to your regularly scheduled postings!!