I haven’t written a post in quite a while and I blame Christmas. I know that may sound really ridiculous to some, but it is the only excuse I have. I don’t know what it is about December that makes it so depressing. All I have energy for lately is to occasionally tweet. They aren’t even good tweets.
I am hopeless. I seriously just want to hibernate or overdose by eating my weight in peppermint bark. Christmas makes me want to never get out of bed because it is kind of cold (for Phoenix) and I have the freedom to do it cause I am an ADULT. (Sometimes I need to remind myself.)
The other thing that doesn’t help is my lack of appetite. Booze and candy is all I crave. Oh and cookies. Pretty healthy, right?
For anyone that is actually reading this I will be back shortly. I just need to push myself through the holiday fog.
P.S. Merry Christmas or whatever…
We all need to love ourselves a little more.
Reliving my past moments from the good to the REALLY bad has given me a lot of perceptive. From what you can tell from my last few posts I had it a little rough in junior high. Have you ever wanted to go back to tell your younger self that things will get better? That junior high is tiny little dot on your life’s timeline? There are so many things I have learned from writing about my childhood.
was am deathly afraid of rejection. I had low self-esteem and horrible social anxiety. I had a group of friends that accepted me, but I always had that fear that they would stop being my friends at any moment. I was known as the “goofy one” in my group of friends. The girl who tripped over speed bumps more than once (completely sober I might add). The girl who had trouble forming sentences around the male gender and authority figures. That girl who had such a problem with being the center of attention she refused to walk into a crowded room alone.
I was put into a category early on in my life, and it was hard to get out. I was never taken seriously and was ashamed of being that weird girl. I spent most of the time just being a follower, trying to stay under the radar. I felt like if I said what I was feeling, my friends wouldn’t accept me. I went along with everyone else’s ideas because it was easier. The problem was the only time I really felt like myself was when I was by myself. My bedroom as a teenager was truly my salvation. I could be whatever I wanted free of judgment. I would spend hours singing in the mirror, writing songs, and practicing my Oscar acceptance speeches. In my bedroom, I went through many style phases. There was the witchy goth chick liked someone out of The Craft. Oh, and the time I pretended to be the next Jennifer Lopez (post-Selena, pre-Gigli). My all time favorite was the punk rock emo girl who listened to way too much Yellowcard.
My bedroom is where I found my passion for writing in all forms, my scary movie obsession, and love of indie rock. The real me was left in my room while I went off pretending to be whatever I thought my friends wanted. It took me awhile to embrace who I really wanted to be.
As I get older it gets a lot easier to not care what others think. I stopped censoring my personality. I found at least one person that accepts everything about me because I accept everything about him. I try to embrace my goofy side while exploring my many other sides. I am not afraid to say that I still sing in front of the mirror. That I love to watch cheesy made for TV movies because they almost always have happy endings. That I am endlessly working on a zombie novel that I may never finish. It took me twenty-eight years, but I am finally showing people who I really am.