Tag Archives: Bravery

Astonish Me

Dazzle me with brilliance, evoke me with your pain. Please just help me feel anything but mundane. I seek and I seek, finding nothing each time, yet I still can’t help but seek some other life. Another time, another place, with another girl, a different face, maybe then I could be great.

I’ve tried and yet I can’t forget the person I’ve become, I’m desperate to remember who I was earlier in life. Once I valued my opinions, heeded my own advice, now all I’m good for is giving it to those who don’t even want it.

I’ve emptied out, a hollow shell, I’m not who I once was. The hardest part is not blaming others, and accepting my own role. It’s just that I’ve been broken so many times before, I can’t find all the pieces, they don’t fit like before.

Astonish

Advertisements

Three Month Lull

Wow, I can’t believe it’s been almost three months since I last posted. To all of my followers, I’m sorry for being so unreliable! If you’ve read a decent amount of my posts, you’ll know enough to know that when life gets tough, I tend to pack it in and call it until things simmer down.

This time, though, I’m forcing myself back out of my shell. Depression is a never ending force in the lives of those who’ve experienced it, which I reckon is just about everyone these days.

Some days are better than others, as with any other illness or whatever else, but there are times you’re just sucked into these long patches of it. It leaves you feeling helpless and insignificant, yet the only person to blame is yourself.

We allow it to consume us, at times we fight, but generally, we’ve accepted that there’s nothing we can do other than just to bear down and weather the storm.

When frustrations hits it’s all time high though, sometimes I actually do things like this, have to actually force myself back into something that I know I love and need. Sometimes I think I’m punishing myself for being depressed by depriving myself of things I love, so this is me testing the waters, so to speak.

I hate posts like this, writing them, not reading them, because at least when I’m reading them, I feel moved to see someone trying to come out. Yet when it comes to myself, this just feels useless and forced, and that’s the total opposite of what I love about writing.

Sometimes doing counterintuitive things can be good for you, maybe I’ll grow from it, but I can never be sure anymore. I’m currently always battling myself when it comes to trusting my instincts, but I usually hate going outside of that box.

What I really need, more than anything in life, is a real life, genuine, actual friend. I haven’t been connecting for years now and I truly think it’s put me on this downward spiral I feel stuck on now.

Anyways, thanks for reading and understanding as always. Hopefully I’ll push something good out soon, but for now, this was a start, and we’ll just have to see where it goes.

Tragic Tendencies

I tend to care for others before caring to myself, and it’s been so long since I’ve done it that I think I’ve forgotten how. I haven’t put my own self first in far too long, this much I know is true, but family comes first, they’re all I have to keep me alive and motivate me to keep fighting for life.

I’m struggling now to figure out what I should already know, so bare with me as I progress, for sometimes I’m not around. I’m not always reliable, not that I won’t try, but my body gets the best of me, chronic pain keeps me bogged down. My mind, it tends to follow when I’m overwhelmed with pain, so then depressions creeps back in and takes me prisoner again.

I’ll disappear for weeks and months, sometimes it turns to years, but seldom am I ever asked how I’m doing or feeling. Why reach out to others, if they don’t think of you? I think about them often and yet I never hear a word. If you care, as you say, and you think of me as well, then why is it you can’t take time to ask me about myself?

Is it because I’m some small reminder of a past you pretend you never led? Or is it that you can’t be bothered to comfort someone when you can’t understand the pain they’re in, that it’s easier to pretend there’s not people always suffering? Well it’s my life, so forget me or not, I’m stuck living a life you could never handle.

Tend

My First Audition

When I was 10/11 years old, I read in my local newspaper that a group of executives from a prominent record label in Nashville was coming to my area. It was simple really, fill out the required paperwork, pay the $50 fee, and bring a blank VHS tape if you’d like the performance to be recorded.

We had recently moved to a new area, and ever since I’d been struggling to feel like I fit in. So if cleaned up the house, acted as perfectly as possible, and pitched the idea to my mom. I honestly don’t know why she agreed, we were never close and not once did she feign even the slightest interest in anything I enjoyed.

When the day finally arrived, we picked up my only friend and headed to the hotel ballroom. My song choices were between Avril Lavigne’s “Complicated” and “My Immortal” by Evanescence. Both encased two different qualities in my voice that I thought sounded good, but ultimately I went with my girl Avril.

At last after hours of performances, they called me to the stage. While I was incredibly nervous, I’d also never felt more sure of anything before that moment. I remember wearing my white Adidas, the original old school ones, I stared them down so hard as the music began. I instantly regretted wearing khakis, like what was I thinking.

The video starts recording, and seconds after it begins, the sound guy can be heard asking my mom if she thinks that I’m actually gonna sing. Apparently my nerves weren’t as hidden as I had thought, and I would afterwards discover that I had sweated through my shirt and jacket, so I was drenched. But it didn’t affect my performance one bit, and I sang my little heart out.

I had a quiet start, but I finished strong, and the record execs actually expressed interest in me, but my mom couldn’t possibly allow me that much enjoyment out of life; in her words, I was lucky just to have gotten the experience. I’ll never forgive her for that moment, music is still to this day what I know I’m meant to do, and I tried so hard, but ultimately failed. I keep toying around with the idea of applying for the Voice, but I guess only time will tell.

Self-Sabotage Stephanie

Today I’ve decided to address one of my biggest pet peeves with myself. I’ve never really met anyone that was very much like me, in fact, it’s been difficult to identify with other people for most of my life. I’ve always struggled to figure out exactly who I am. I’m sure a good deal of us feel that way, but I feel as though I’ve had a harder time than most.

There are few things about myself that haven’t changed drastically over time, and they’re not all good. To put it simply, I have a tendency of fucking things up based on nothing more than fear. I allow it to consume me, and therefore control my decisions, actions, and reactions. The handful of times this has happened proved to be the most difficult moments of my life.

The most unforgivable of those events was discovering that one of my biggest fears was success. When you’ve never felt something so basic and pure as pride in yourself, success seems like a foreign country, totally unbeknownst and incredibly overwhelming. Harder yet was admitting to myself that I wasn’t scared of losing everything I had worked for, I was scared of change.

Things have been absolutely awful as of late, and yet as scary as it is, I know that after so long of feeling sadness, pain, sorrow, loneliness… that I feel completely at home here. Change is scary, but I no longer wish to be the girl setting herself up for failure, I’m ready to be the woman who’s open to change so that I may teach my daughter by example.

Identity

Outside the Box

Forget about the rights we have, we abuse them every day, and yet in the blink of an eye it can all be taken away. Around any corner could be awaiting your dismay, but on and on we go, pushing through the day. We put ourselves in boxes, categorize ourselves by race, gender, sexual preference, but it hardly does a thing that isn’t detrimental to our beings. You’re more than just a number, a signature on a form, don’t sign your life away just to be part of the norm. You do not have to be like them, with this I must implore, so take my hand and grab a friend and help me change the world.

What makes you unique can’t be defined by a book, you can search through all my knowledge, look in every nook, but still you cannot label me, for I’m far outside your box. To me this is a blessing, not being assigned to any flock, but to most I am an outcast, deeper than any black sheep am I cast. They tease and push, lash and brush by like I’m nothing, like I’m no one, but I am content being unlike the rest of you, for I will teach my daughter to live outside your boxes, too. I’ll show her that what makes her special is what sets herself apart from the rest of the world, scattered and burned, I’ll teach her to survive your world.

Trademark

Brave Enough

You don’t need to be strong enough to change the whole wide world, you just need be brave enough to change your own small world. The bigger picture can’t be changed unless you start out small, the little pictures all add up to something much more meaningful. You can’t address the world’s issues unless you fix your own, so take the wheel, don’t back down, and do what needs to be done.

Brave