Posted in Emotions

Unnecessary Guilt

“The worst guilt is to accept an unearned guilt.” -Ayn Rand

I say the words “I’m sorry” countless times a day about everything.  It has become a habit of mine.  A lot of people respond to this phrase by telling me it’s not my fault.  Rationally, I know that, but it doesn’t mean I don’t still feel bad.  I somehow feel guilty and responsible when something bad happens to the people I care about, especially when I’m involved in any way in the situation.  I always think that I could have done something to prevent it, or that it wouldn’t have happened in the first place if they hadn’t met me in some cases.

I worry that they’re going to feel like it’s my fault somehow, and I don’t want them to be mad at me.  I can reason out that it’s not my fault, but it’s a lot easier for people to blame someone else.  I also worry that the future consequences of the event may be my fault.  I harbor a lot of guilt for everything even if it isn’t my fault because in some way I think it could have been different if I wasn’t around.

My guilt starts with my parents’ divorce when I was about 6.  I know everyone says that it’s not the child’s fault in these situations, but maybe it was my fault.  I told my father that my mother was really close to one of her male coworkers.  They fought about it because my father was the jealous type.  Less than a week later, my mom and I moved out.  I can’t help, but blame myself.  Maybe their relationship could have lasted if I hadn’t said some stupid comment.  I can’t take it back, and it bothers me.

I also feel guilty about my mother’s life.  I feel like me being born ruined it.  She blames me for it and the problems she has.  Every time we fight she throws it in my face.  I was the reason she had to stay in a crappy little town because she couldn’t move me.  I was the reason she had a crappy job because that’s the only one she could keep and take care of a child at the same time.  This also caused her to have a college degree that she couldn’t put to use.  I was the reason she was alone because it’s hard for single mothers to date.  Everything was my fault even though I never asked to be born.

I try so hard not to cause people pain or inconvenience, but I’m not perfect, and I know I do.  I’m so worried that maybe it’s my fault that I find ways to make it my fault.  Maybe that’s selfish in a way to turn things into my blame when they aren’t, but it’s easier for me to blame myself because I don’t want the blame to fall on someone else.  I don’t want someone else to feel guilty for it because I already do anyway.  I know I can’t control situations, but I always go to the what ifs.  What if I could have done something? What if it would have been different if they didn’t know me or I didn’t exist? The list goes on and on.

“No matter how frustrated, disappointed and discouraged we may feel in the face of our failures, it’s only temporary. And the faster you can stop wallowing in guilt, blame or resentment, the faster you can put it behind you.” -Fabrizio Moreira

The problem is when I blame myself, the people around me end up feeling bad for me or annoyed that I think it’s my fault, and I don’t want that either.  There really is no good answer in these situations because everyone just ends up feeling bad. I know I have to let all the guilt go and realize it isn’t really my fault or it will continue to consume me.  I just feel like if I don’t accept the guilt, then it might cause the people I care about pain.  None of it really makes sense if you think about it in a logical way, but my brain works on emotion not logic.

-Love, Dee




Posted in Beauty


“You will never look like the girl in the magazine. The girl in the magazine doesn’t even look like the girl in the magazine.” -Jessiemae Peluso

Appearance shouldn’t really be something we focus on, but that seems to be all that matters to some people.  I mean we as a society parade girls around to be judged on their looks from a young age like it’s normal.  From a young age, I was convinced I was supposed to look a certain way like the people on television and in magazines.  Everyone has these insane beauty standards that I could never meet.

There were always outside pressures, but the biggest pressure was from inside my own family.  The people who are supposed to love and be there for you were the people who made me feel like I wasn’t good enough.  My grandparents were always concerned with my appearance.  My grandmother always scolded my mom for letting me eat what I wanted.  She would sit there and watch me eat and say things like “Are you sure you should be eating that it’ll make you fat… well fatter.” She’d scream at me for eating carbs or even just eating.  I’d lose my appetite when she’d make a comment or just give me one of those looks.

It didn’t stop there.  She also threatened me for vacations.  She told me if I didn’t lose fifty pounds in a set period of time that I wasn’t going to be allowed to go on the family trip to Disney World, and she was serious.  I barely ate anything and would work out for hours everyday because I wanted to go so badly and I lost enough to go.  I kept it off for a long time because I wouldn’t eat.  I was so miserable not eating anything I liked or getting to really be a kid I didn’t even eat cake on my birthday.

I was glad I lost weight and had already been trying to because of all the comments people had been making at school.  Horribly, nasty comments based solely on my appearance.  The one that stuck the most was I overheard a guy say that they would rather kiss another guy than me because I was so ugly and fat.  When I changed it, I was accepted even though I was the same person.

It went farther than that though my grandmother and everyone else had to throw in their two cents on every detail.  If I didn’t wear makeup I wasn’t perceived as pretty, but if I wore two much, i was perceived as a whore.  If I didn’t dress up, I was lazy, but if I did, I was too high maintenance.   If I wore my hair straight, I was told I should curl it, but if I curled it, I was told it would look better straight.  If my shorts or dresses were too long, I was a prude, but if they were too short, I was a whore.  How is anyone supposed to feel good about themselves if everyone always has a snide comment?

I’ve never thought of myself as pretty, and the things people have said have ruined any self-esteem I ever had.  I look in the mirror and all I see is flaw after flaw.

“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.” -Confucius

Eventually, I decided not to care.  I gained weight, and I’m chubby so what?  I dress how I want to with what I like.  I fix my hair how I want, and I do my makeup how I want.  I’m not going to try to impress anyone.  I don’t really care what they want.  I’m happier this way.  I’m doing what makes me the happiest.  I still don’t have a high self-esteem, but I’m not stressing over how I should look and what others want.

People may not look at me and think I’m beautiful, but beauty shouldn’t be skin deep because looks fade.  Beauty should be deeper.  It should come from inside and who you are because that is much more meaningful.  Who you are as a person is way more important than how you look on the outside.  Maybe if this was the message society sent, more people would feel comfortable in their own skin.

-Love, Dee

Posted in Love


“Unworthiness is the inmost frightening thought that you do not belong, no matter how much you want to belong, that you are an outsider and will always be an outsider. It is the idea that you are flawed and cannot be fixed. It is wanting to be loved and feeling unlovable, or wanting to love and feeling that you are not capable of loving.” -Gary Zuka
     I find that I keep asking myself the same questions over and over.  Why don’t I deserve love?  Am I unlovable? Is there something fundamentally wrong with me that I am blind too?  Every time I have voiced these concerns they always return the same reply. “You do deserve love, everyone does.”,”You’re very lovable.”, and “There’s nothing wrong with you.”  I don’t really know what to say next when I get these responses because I don’t see them as quite accurate.  If everyone deserves love, then why doesn’t everyone get it?  If I’m so lovable, why can’t you love me?  If there is nothing with me, then what drove you away?
     I try not to, but honestly I get bitter when I see happy couples.  I mean is there some hierarchy as to who deserves love more than someone else?  I see these horrible people who are self-centered and think they’re better than everyone else and treat everyone around them like shit have these wonderful loving relationships with all the cute couple things like sending flowers and dressing up for fancy dates.  How is this person more deserving of love than me?
     I’m not saying I’m some wonderful person.  I see all my flaws probably better than anyone else. However, I try my best to be nice to all the people around me and do everything I can for them, but I still get walked all over for it while someone who is rude and mean to other is rewarded for it.
     Maybe I’ve just watched too many fairy tales and Rom-coms in my life.  I guess maybe I focus on the wrong parts of a relationship, but it really bothers me that no one has ever bought me flowers, or been there for Valentine’s Day, or my birthday, or been to a family function even when I was in relationships(not that all of them coincided with those dates).
     I always wanted love to be like those cheesy 80s movies with some grand proclamation.  The classics being standing outside of your window with a boom box (“Say Anything”), or Jake Ryan leaning against his car across the street (“Sixteen Candles”), or showing up on a lawnmower (“Can’t Buy My Love”).  I know how unrealistic that is.  I mean I’m not the kind of girl someone would do that for to begin with.  I’m not what people usually consider pretty, I’m chubby, I’m overly emotional, and I have psychiatric issues.
     I never expect some grand gesture that’s not really the point.  I don’t think my standards are too high. I don’t really think even my bad qualities should make me undeserving of love, but it seems that they do.  I just want someone to care enough and love me enough to do those things.  I mean like the stupid stereotypical couple things that everyone pretends to hate but that they actually love.
      My happiness doesn’t depend on having another person around, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting it.  It doesn’t stop from wanting to be loved.  It doesn’t stop me from getting upset every time I see happy couples in love in real life or in movies.  It doesn’t stop from asking, “Why not me?”
     Every time I ask that, I go through a mental list of my flaws.  I try to find why people don’t want me, and why I drive them away.  I know my emotional issues have driven people away, and it makes me so angry at myself because I can’t help it.  I also can’t help feeling bad about myself or feeling unlovable.

“Eventually you love people – friends or lovers – because of their flaws.” Karen Allen

However, that’s not the way love is supposed to work.  If you love someone, you love them for who they are, and who they are is the flaws and all.  And if the love isn’t more than skin deep, it isn’t really love anyway.  It’s still hard because no one has been capable of loving me in a romantic sense, and there’s always the nagging voice in the back of my head that says no one ever will.  Even if it’s not my fault, it’s still hard to stop blaming myself because there isn’t anyone else to blame.

-Love, Dee

Posted in Friendship

The Branches of Friendship

“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.” ― Jane Austen

I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining with all the bad.  There is a lot of good in my life it is just hard for me to focus on it.  I do have a lot of great people I call friends in my life that offer me a great support net in all my endeavors.  I love every single one of them, but I find that our relationships vary drastically as well as the parts of my life I discuss with them.  When I think about it, I have six extremely close friends.

Two of these friendships are with people I’ve known for years and started in high school even if they became stronger after it was over.  Although I am ashamed to admit it, both of these people I have also turned my back on at times.  At the time, I somehow reasoned it would be better for both of us, but eventually realized I needed them.  Yet, even though I disappeared on them, they both welcomed me back into their lives.  I don’t talk to either of them everyday but they’re always there when I need them.  The first of those friends has supported me through a lot of major meltdowns and seen my all time lows, and I have in turn seen his.  If he hadn’t been around, I don’t know that I’d be here today.  The second of those friends is like my conscience.  He tells me the brutal truth even when I don’t want to hear it and even when it hurts because most of the time he’s already experienced the same thing.  These two know my history better than anybody else even if they don’t know the more minor details of my present or ever really see me in person.

The other four friends are more recent since I’ve been in college, and I see them usually at least once a week if not more.   They are the ones I go on adventures with and laugh with and escape my troubles with.  They make my life better just by being in it.

One of them I bicker with constantly, but we still care about each other all the same.   We complain to each other and can relate to each others issues.  The second friend is a newer friend, but that doesn’t really make that big of a difference.  I can text him for hours having deep really thoughtful conversations that are usually a bit on the morbid side.

The third of these friends is the one I consider to be my best friend even though sometimes we are polar opposites.  She’s the optimist and I’m the pessimist.  She was the cheerleader, and I was the nerd.  She’s the person who has a high self-confidence where I have no self confidence.  She’s so bubbly and friendly where I am quiet and antisocial.  We share a lot of interest which is part of the reason it works, but we also can act extremely goofy around each other.  I’m a different person around her.  I’m happier, and I don’t think about the bad stuff so much there isn’t really time.  We jump from one thing to the next so quickly.  She gives me a completely different outlook on life.

The fourth of these friends is a little different from the rest.  He has seen a lot of the different sides of me.  He’s seen me really energetic and happy, he’s heard all the details of my past, we can joke and laugh about everything, but the biggest factor is he’s been there for my complete meltdowns when I have an anxiety attack both in person and on the phone, and he just talks me through it always staying calm.

I mean there have been rough times with all of them, but friendship means sticking together through it and forgiving.  It means not abandoning them when they need you.  Sometimes it’s hard and painful, but in the long run, it is worth it.

“The truth is, everyone is going to hurt you. You just got to find the ones worth suffering for.”  Bob Marley

Friendship is one of the biggest joys in my life.  It makes me feel like I am a part of something, and that maybe I’m not so alone in the world after all.  They help me carry on when I just want to give up.  I love my friends for everything they do and everything that they are.

-Love, Dee

Posted in Mental Illness

My Spiral of Anxiety

“The thing about a spiral is, if you follow it inward, it never actually ends. It just keeps tightening, infinitely.” -John Green

Although I’ve always been an anxious person, I was only diagnosed with anxiety disorder and depression less than a year ago. Throughout high school, I was severely depressed with the more than occasional suicidal thought. I was also very stressed as I was either taking enough college classes to be considered a full time student or Honors and AP classes all throughout high school. I didn’t really have a social life or time to join clubs or sports (although I was to uncoordinated for them). I felt alienated and like an outsider even though I did have a couple of what I believed to be friends my senior year.

One of these “friends” attended the same university I did after graduation and became my freshman roommate. I thought this would be a good idea because at least I’d be living with somebody I knew, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Everything started off seemingly fine. We had lost touch over the summer so we were a little distant. However, the problem began when she started hanging out with what I would call the wrong crowd. I had no personal grudges against these people, but the went out partying and drinking every night, rarely attended classes, and never studied. She fell into these same habits. She would come in at 2 AM, invite strange people into the room, skip most of her classes, and not do her homework. Although I was annoyed, I kept it to myself because at one time she had been my best friend.

The issue started when her parents started to find out how badly she was doing in her classes. She begged me to help her with her homework which I did for a time. However, when it got to the point where I refused to help, she blamed me for her grades. She was mad at me for getting up to attend my own classes and disturbing her while she skipped her own. She blamed me for these strange people being around and messing with her things even though she was the one inviting them in, and I never wanted them there in the first place. She spread nasty rumors about me in our hometown and to her parents saying I was doing all the things that she was actually doing. No one should have believed this of course if they knew me at all.

One day, I came back to our room, and she was packing her stuff to move to another dorm. It felt like a slap in the face. We had so much history, and she was supposed to be my best friend. I thought she was different, but she was the same as those other girls in high school. In fact, she was worse.

Instead of just leaving, she destroyed my property and put substances into my makeup that could have caused me harm. I was scared in my own living space believing anything could have been tampered with. I was paranoid beyond belief. Every faint sound woke me up. I reported this incident for my own safety, but that still wasn’t the end of it. When word of the report reached her, my former roommate, who new my schedule, stalked me to threaten me, and when I tried to leave, she chased me. Of course at this point, I was terrified and police became involved. She was arrested. I was proud of myself for standing up for my self and my own safety, but it still bothered me. I couldn’t figure out what I had done wrong or why she’d put me through this. Her mom also had to get involved and throw a fit because somehow I was in the wrong even though her daughter had threatened my safety, I “handled it the wrong way.” People in my hometown still give me dirty looks and are rude to me because somehow its my fault even though I was the victim.

“It is very hard to explain to people who have never known serious depression or anxiety the sheer continuous intensity of it. There is no off switch.” -Matt Haig

This is when my anxiety started getting really bad to the point it was almost unmanageable. I felt so alone and like no one could be trusted. I over analyzed every detail of my life to make sure it wasn’t leading to another occurrence like this. I felt alienated and alone and like I couldn’t handle everything at one. Even though mental illness ran in my family, the people around me didn’t really understand what was going on. I didn’t even really know what was going on. The closest thing I have ever found to describe my thoughts was Turtles All the Way Down by John Green.

“You lie there, not even thinking really, except to try to consider how to describe the hurt, as if finding the language for it might bring it up out of you. If you can make something real, if you can see it and smell it and touch it, then you can kill it. You think, it’s like a brain fire. Like a rodent gnawing at you from the inside. A knife in your gut. A spiral. Whirlpool. Black hole. The words used to describe it — despair, fear, anxiety, obsession — do so little to communicate it. Maybe we invented metaphor as a response to pain. Maybe we needed to give shape to the opaque, deep-down pain that evades both sense and senses.” -John Green

It starts over some small insignificant event and spirals into the worst possible outcome. For example, I forgot to bring a pencil to class. I would panic and be worried about not taking notes. Then the no notes would turn into failing the exam, and that would turn into failing the class which would turn into flunking out of college. Flunking out of college would turn into not being able to hold a job which would cause me not to be able to maintain a stable relationship. Then, it all would end with me dying alone with a bunch of cats. It seems illogical to think not having a pencil would lead to that demise. I did exaggerate and fabricate this example, but the point I’m making is one little event brings up every problem and bad thought about myself I have. It causes me to completely lose control of my thoughts and reasoning and leads me into a blind panic. Every thought goes deeper into my mind and my fears.

“It’s getting sucked into a whirlpool that shrinks and shrinks and shrinks your world until you’re just spinning without moving, stuck inside a prison cell that is exactly the size of you, until eventually you realize that you’re not actually in the prison cell. You are the prison cell.” -John Green

When I have these anxiety attacks, I feel trapped in my own mind. I get claustrophobic even though I’m in an open space. My chest starts to feel heavy and tighten up. It gets very difficult to breath, and many times, I start to cry uncontrollably. I feel like I can’t move. Sometimes it’s not full blown its just one symptom, but sometimes it is all of them at once. I can’t stop my mind from doing this, and I can’t reason through it until I’m already calmed down.

This anxiety triggers the depression. It makes me feel bad about myself and broken. The anxiety pulls up all the events of my past for my depression to dwell on as if they were fresh wounds. It’s like a never ending cycle. It just keeps going, and it never feels like it is going to stop. Then finally it heals, and I am okay again. Sometimes it lasts for a long time, but as soon as I think it’s finally over another event pushes me back into the worrying and into the spiral.

I have tried to get help. Last time it didn’t work. I’m in the process of trying again. I’m not sure if it will ever stop completely, but I hope it will dull with time as I learn to live with it and work to prevent it.

Love, Dee

Posted in Getting Away


“All the best stories in the world are but one story in reality -the story of escape.  It is the only thing which interests us all and at all times, how to escape.” -Walter Bagehot

As of late, I’ve been feeling very trapped in my own life.  My entire life has taken place in such a small area.  I never really moved except a couple of streets over, and although my university is in a different town, it still seems to close.   I’m just starting to feel claustrophobic like the state borders are closing in on me.

The scenery never changes. I see the same people who I’ve seen all my life over and over.  It feels like there’s no escape from the past or even just the current.  It all seems to be a little mind numbing. The same routine day after day with no variation.  Seeing the same places doing the same things, it’s no longer the comfort it once was.

I used to be so afraid of change and leaving, but now it’s all I can think about.  I just want to get in the car and drive, not caring where it takes me.  I feel like anywhere else would be a welcome change.  I just want to see the world after being sheltered from it for so long by barely leaving home.  I want a fresh start somewhere new.  I want to have stories to tell and new experiences.

However, for now, I just have to settle with the simple escapes life throws my way.  I feel like people can be an escape in a way; certain people are at least.  Something I often look for in friends in spontaneity (which I seem to lack).  The best kind of people are the ones that call you and say “I’m outside.” or “Let’s go to (insert place here).”  I mean it may not always be convenient, but neither is life.

I seem to like to be around people who make me forget all my worries and stress like they never existed.  Things seem so much simpler when you’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe, visiting some random new place, driving down the road with unconventional music blaring, or just having a deep conversation with a friend.  The bad thoughts just disappear for a while and are replaced with happy ones. And you escape it all.

“That’s the funny thing about trying to escape. You never really can. Maybe temporarily, but not completely.” ― Jennifer L. Armentrout

Your mood is so high, but it doesn’t last.  You feel better about your problems, but once you’re alone again, they slowly come back.  For me sometimes, it takes a couple of hours to start the worrying again, sometimes a couple of days, but it always comes back.  I never seem to realize how good I was feeling until I hit a new low.

The happy memories bring me optimism though.  The next adventure is the light at the end of the tunnel.  I just have to get there, and thinking about what a good time I’ll have helps me through the darkness.

I live for those random moments of happiness that are so all-consuming that you don’t see the bad in your life.  For me, those moments, those adventures, they give life meaning.  I treasure each one, and I never stop looking for the next one.

-Love, Dee

Posted in Flamingos

About the Flamingos

“Be a Flamingo in a flock of Pigeons” -Savannah Larsen

I thought it would only be appropriate to explain my obsession with flamingos.  Flamingos are my favorite animal, but it is more than that.  I relate to what flamingos stand for.

I’ve never felt like I quite fit in no matter where I am.  I’m kind of socially awkward, and I think differently.   I spent all of my years in high school trying to change to fit the cultural norm.   I starved myself trying to lose weight to be thin because that was what I was told I should be.  It didn’t matter that it wasn’t really possible for my body type.  I never had the popular brands in clothes and gadgets because it was too expensive, and yet somehow, that gave my peers a reason to think of me as less and treat me like a second class citizen.

I wasn’t the kind of girl who wanted to sit around and talk about makeup, celebrities, and boys.  I was worried about the latest novel or comic, or superhero movie.  This never went well in social groups.  If I showed excitement for these so-called “nerdy” topics, I was laughed at or received an eye roll. The only thing about me they didn’t mind was my intelligence because I would always help them with homework, but as soon as I was no longer useful, I was no longer included.

The way I was treated made me feel ashamed to be myself.  I did everything I could to fit in.  I saved my money and bought the cool brands, I lost as much weight as I could and barely ate, I learned to keep my mouth shut about my interests and pretend to be interested in their conversation topics, and I helped them study and do homework.  I didn’t like myself much like that either because that’s not who I was.

Even after I molded myself into who they thought I should be, I wasn’t a part of their group.  I was still an outcast.  They never cared about me.  They only cared about what I could do for them.  As soon as they didn’t need homework help, they disappeared from my life only to reappear when they needed the help again.

I spent a long time realizing the truth and even longer time going back to who I really was.  I had to learn that it didn’t matter what people thought and to get rid of the stigma that I should be ashamed of who I am.

“A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.”  – Charley Harper

I am getting to the flamingo part, and it does relate to that story.  This experience drove me to love flamingos.  When I used to think of Flamingos, I would picture the plastic lawn flamingos which most people think of as cheap or trashy, but that is so one-sided.  There is so much more to them.  They are living, breathing, proud, and beautiful creatures.

Flamingos are so majestically awkward.  They stand on one leg, and even though it looks impossible, they fly.  Flamingos couldn’t hide in a crowd (not that they would want to).  The bright pink color makes them impossible to miss.  They are social creatures and live in flocks like a family.  Most importantly, flamingos keep their heads held high.  Even though they are different from all the other animals, they are proud never ashamed.

I love flamingos because they stand for all I aspire to be.  I want to live beyond what others see me as.  I want to have that much confidence and not second guess everything I do.  I want to be unapologetic for who I am and to be proud of it.  I want to no longer feel the need to fit in to how others want me to be.  I just want to be the person I already am, beautiful in my own way.

                                                                                                                -Love, Dee


Posted in Love

Love As I See It

Spoiler alert: Love is worth everything. Everything.” -Nicola Yoon

    Through the years my perception of love has changed.  When I was young, I used to believe in love the way you believe in fairy tales.  I believed it was some perfect magical thing that was easy and uncomplicated, but as I learned, that’s not even close to true.  Love hurts a lot.
     I find that I love very easily and freely which leads to a lot of heartbreak.  I also don’t distinguish love into categories of romantic or friendship.  I just love.  I see love as a choice just like you choose to get up in the morning.  There is nothing forcing you to, but you just do.  You may not be able to choose that you care about someone, but once you care deeply enough, you ultimately make the choice of loving or not loving them, and you continue to make that choice.
     Although most romantic love I’ve seen in my life has been pretty screwed up,  it is still easy to see that love is hard over time.  People fight and have disagreement or rough patches, but choosing to love this person means staying for them, and also sometimes it means leaving for them.  Love means doing what’s best for them even if it hurts you both.
     To me love is very complicated.  It’s just a word without the actions.  It can mean always being there when they need you, or telling something they need to hear even if it hurts.  It can mean doing what’s best for them or just putting them first.  I tend to love deeply and give my all.  I expose my vulnerabilities even though I’m typically a private, closed off person.  But I also love the wrong people who take advantage of that vulnerability and trust.  These people manipulate me because of the emotional vulnerability, and eventually abandon me once they’ve warped me.

     The first couple of times, I got right back up, but a person can only tale so much before they break.  I shattered after a while.  I built up a wall, and I swore I wouldn’t let anyone in.

“Love is giving someone the power to completely destroy you, and hoping that they won’t” -Suzanne Wright

     The problem is more likely than not, they will destroy you.  I hung on to this idea for a long time to try to save myself from the inevitable pain.  However, living like that alone and closed off, it causes just as much pain.  The lonely pain doesn’t even give you good memories.
     Ultimately, that era came to an end.  I met someone, and even though I promised myself I wouldn’t care and that I wouldn’t get attached, I did.  He made it pretty easy though.  He made me feel something different from I ever had before.  He treated me in a way I’d never been treated before.  Even though he never loved me, he still made me feel more loved in those two months than I’d felt in my entire life.  And even though it ended I don’t regret a second of it, and we’re still good friends.  He’s one of my best friends (whether he knows it or not) if I’m being honest.
     My whole perception changed.  I realized these things aren’t my fault, even if its hard to stop blaming myself.  Maybe it’s a good thing that I love so freely and emotionally; it is hard for some people to show those emotions.  I used to want people to love me so badly, but now it doesn’t really matter.  It’s perfectly fine for me to love someone, and them not to love me back.  I just feel more deeply.
     I realize that life is fleeting, and you never know how long you have.  In that context, I’m glad I can love easily.  I also feel the need to tell the people I love that I love them as frequently as I can.  I suggest you do the same.  You always regret the things you didn’t get to say.
                                                                                                                     -Love, Dee
Posted in Introduction

A New Beginning

Thanks for joining me!

“Only I can change my life.  No one can do it for me.” — Carol Burnett

I have had my fair share of problems in my life thus far, and I do not expect them to end anytime soon.  After some recent events and a long, ongoing struggle with depression, I realized something had to change.  I hated my life, and for some time I wanted it to end.  Then I realized, I didn’t want to die.  I wanted to live; I just didn’t want to live like this.  I have spent my life just existing and it hasn’t been enough.  This blog will document my ongoing struggle with depression and anxiety, as well as the journey I am taking outside my comfort zone to change my life.  I am also going to write about some important issues for me.  To end on a more positive note, I am including a Doctor Who quote that is inspiring me on this journey.

“We are all stories in the end, just make it a good one eh?”- The Eleventh Doctor

-Love, Dee