The way I was wired

Sometimes I have these moments during the day when I have to stop. It's not cause I'm stressed out or have too much to do but rather I can feel my depression tightening its grip on me.
And I feel I'm never going to be good enough for anything or anyone. It's stupid and futile to keep fighting the inevitable depression that is constant in my life.
And I have to stop.
I have to stop whatever it is I'm doing and remind myself in a very real and literal way that I matter. I am good and I'm doing just fine. And everything is going to be okay.
I wish I didn't have to take the time to stop and remind myself that I have worth, that it'd just be inherent and obvious to me all the time.
But that's not how my brain was wired.
I was born with a defective brain in the sense that I have to make the conscious decision to push against what my brain is wired to do.
Because of the way my DNA decided to line up, my brain's default mode is depressed. I mean this in a very real way. I am always depressed. I have to push myself, force myself out of it and fight against my very nature in order to feel happy. It doesn't always work. And some days are harder than others.
A few weeks ago, I was really happy. I was happy every single day of the week. I didn't feel depressed and I went to bed without any despair. I could focus on my work without having to stop and push down the feeling of hopelessness that is always kept at bay. I felt joy in my interactions with others and didn't feel like it's all pointless. I felt like real connection was possible. That's a very odd thing to happen for me. It was an abnormal week for me.
I wish it could always be like that. I have so many things to be happy about and I know I should be happy. But, like I said, it's just not how it works for me. And so I have to constantly fight to get happiness in my life.
I don't know why I'm telling you all this.

Love you.
Mean it.

Year one at the Herald Journal

Yesterday was my one year anniversary working for the Herald Journal.
Today, the Salt Lake Tribune laid off about 20 percent of its staff.
There's a poignant juxtaposition for you, if I ever heard of one.

My year working as a reporter has been interesting. I've written hundreds of articles, met dozens upon dozens of people, had my fair share of people telling me I'm the worst, more than a few thank you cards and many other experiences that come with the job. Or rather, just sort of happen with this kind of job.

My heart aches for those at the Tribune who were laid off. People talk about how journalism is a dying field, that it's a waste of time and effort to go into journalism. I don't agree with that but I see the argument being made. People will always want to know what's going on. The rough part is people are unwilling to pay someone to write about what's going on.

Many people complain about the paywall up on the Herald Journal's website. I think their complaints are bollocks. We're professionals and as such, we won't do our work for free. Period. People don't seem to realize that and they'd be insulted if we asked them to do their job for free.

Writing is the one thing I know I'm really good at. And finding a way to make money out of that is just awesome. And no matter how frustrated or bored I may feel at my job, I constantly feel lucky that this is my job. I get paid to do what I love and what I know I'm good at. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

Love you.
Mean it.

You never forget your first

You never forget your first.

Someone gives you a suggestion or a cover catches your eye.

You ask people about their first comic, they get a kind of stupid/nostalgic grin on their face. They recall what it was and how they got it and how it made them feel and little details they hadn't thought about in ages.

My first comic was Batman: The Long Halloween. I was 20 or 21. I was working for an English professor at SUU named Joe. He loved comics and taught classes on them. He recommended TLH to me.

I drove all the way from Cedar City to St. George because I didn't want to wait for it to be mailed to me.

As cliche as it sounds, reading TLH was a turning point in my life. It's what got me to read comics. I kept reading Batman trades that I picked up at random book stores. I moved on to Sandman and Hellboy.

Now five years later, a corner of my apartment has stacks of comics, both trades and weeklies. Comics are a big part of my life and it all started with Joe's recommendation to read TLH.

A few weeks ago, I was on vacation with the family. I was sitting there, reading a Deadpool collection, when my baby sister Cindy, age 19, came up to me and asked me about comics. After a brief conversation, she asked me how she could start reading them. I was so proud, my big sister heart nearly burst.

Cindy will be leaving for Rexburg for her second year of college. I'll be sending her a care package of comics to start her off with.

It will include The Long Halloween because, like I said, you never forget your first.

Love you.
Mean it.

Good luck

She pulled something small and silver out of her pocket and pressed it into his hand, a four-leaf clover that used to be a charm.
"Maybe it'll like you more," she said. "Never did me any good."
And she smiled that sad smile that just broke your heart.

Dealing with my body.

Once upon a time I was thin. Like really thin. I played soccer and ran track so I also had muscle tone. And I had no qualms with my body image. (I had other problems with depression and hating my life but that's a different story for different time). I knew I was hot and that guys wanted me and I LOVE it.

Then college came and I gained a little weight. But it still wasn't a big deal.

But then came the worst day of my life. And I gained more weight.

Then I started working with a trainer and I lost weight, a whole 12 pounds.

Then I graduated from college, moved to Logan and gained even more weight.

I am now the heaviest I've ever been in my entire life. And it's something I've had to adjust to. There are times I look in the mirror and I'm bewildered by what I see. I don't think of myself as this big but I am. I'm a heavy girl, a fat chick, "PLUS-SIZE."

There was a really long time when I really hated my body and it's enormity. I thought I was fat and ugly and unattractive and basically worthless and horrible.

Then, weirdly enough, I took part in a graduate study. Some woman working on her Ph.D (somehow connected to to my editor) was doing a study on women's body image, social pressure, etc. I was doing it because why not.

But then we got to the section about feminism and body image. As you know, I am not shy about my feminist beliefs. But I never really practiced feminism with my own body image. The idea of what is the "perfect body" is a patriarchal concept. How can I lift women up and encourage them to reject patriarchy if I hate my own body because it doesn't measure up to society's standards? It's hypocritical.

And so I reject fat shaming. I reject the idea of hating my body because it's bigger than it "should" be. I reject being ashamed of my body. Fuck that shit.

And so I've embraced my body. I embrace being heathy and eating right and exercising but not focusing on my weight but rather on being healthy.

In celebration of rejecting all shame I used to hold, I bought a bikini!

Want to know how to get a bikini body? Step 1: Buy a bikini. Step 2: Put it on your body.

Bam. Done. End of steps.

Love you.
Mean it.

Withdrawals

I've written about this before, my attempt to not be on medications anymore. Since the the last time I've written about this, I've gone down to just taking two medications— a big improvement from the six I was taking a few years ago. And even the dosage of those medications has reduced drastically. But now I'm trying to go from two to just one. And it's not easy.

The trouble with taking a medication for nearly 10 years is your body is used to it so much so that when you cease the input, your body hates you. I've experienced withdrawals before and they're just horrible. I'm currently experiencing them again though not as intense as they can be. There are no cold sweats. I'm not shaking uncontrollably. I'm still slightly sensitive to light and sound but it's not too bad The only thing really bothering me is my head is killing me and my body feels weird, like I'm not sure it really belongs to me. I'm trying to take it easy over the next few days till my body readjusts itself.

My decision to stop being on medication primarily comes from the very fact I've been on them so long. I don't really recall a time when I wasn't on them. I want to see if I can function without them.

I'm not saying medications are bad. In fact, I'd claim the opposite. Medication and therapy definitely have their place. I wouldn't have gotten through the shit I've been through without them. The decision to go off them is a personal one and should not be judged by anyone.

I'm sorry if this post doesn't make any sense. My head is throbbing and the screen light isn't helping.
But I wanted to explain what was going on and why I'm doing it.

Love you.
Mean it.

Jealousy is the cousin of greed

There is this song, "The Curse of Curves" by the band Cute is What We Aim For. It has a line that says, "Jealousy is the cousin of greed." Since lyrics are open to interpretation, I've taken that particular line to mean that jealousy is closely tied to greed, meaning you don't believe you have enough in your life and you desire more.

I've always like that. I thought it was pretty poignant.

But I've never really had a problem with jealousy. My entire life, I've never been seriously jealous of anyone. Even when I went through the worst of the worst of my depression, where I hated my life and hated my existence and pretty much hate everything, I never really felt jealous of anyone or their life. I don't know if this is because I was too caught up in my own despair or I figured everyone's else's life is fake because they couldn't accept that life was meaningless. Whatever the reason, I was never, ever jealous of anyone else's life.

But recently, I've found myself encountering feelings of jealousy more and more, lately.

And it's weird. It's a new feeling. And I don't know what to do about it.

I see people on Facebook and they're building houses, they have enough money to build a house. And I get jealous because I rent a small, one bedroom apartment.

I see people going on trips to Spain and England and Europe and I get jealous.

And even simple things make me jealous.

Like I see my ex-boyfriend. He and his current girlfriend have moved in together into a small basement apartment.

And I got jealous. I have NO desire to get back together with him. That'd be awful. I mean, we definitely broke up for a reason.

But I jealous. Not over him but over concept that he had someone and they were living together and they were happy.

I see groups of friends together, laughing and joking together. And I get jealous because I don't have that here in Logan. I have a few acquaintances here and there. But I don't have a solid group of friends, which is frustrating. And so whenever I see a group of friends and that camaraderie, I get super jealous.

I don't know how one handles jealousy. Again, this is a completely new emotion for me. I cannot remember a time when I was this jealous all the time and of everybody.

It's kind of stupid. It's like I'm jealous of  every single person I encounter.

I'll admit that I'm having a hard time here in Logan. It's not because of my job. I love my job. I absolutely love my job. But it's because I don't have a social life, I don't have that feeling of community or connection or a place where I belong or a place where I'm accepted. I don't have those people I can call up and hang out with or a place where I can go where people love an accept me.

I think no matter where a person goes or what they do, they need to have a sense of belonging, they need to have friendship. Otherwise, what's really the point of everything?

My life revolves around my work. And I'm not saying that like those people who work 60+ hours a week. I mean, there really is nothing else in my life except my job. I get up. I got to work. I do my job. Then I come home and try to fill the remaining hours in a day. I have hobbies, yes, like cross stitch and comics. But, as Norman Bates said in Psycho, "Hobbies are suppose to pass the time, not fill it."

The trouble is I don't know how an adult is suppose to make friends. In the past, I've had church or college. Both served as a jumping off point to form friendships. Since I no longer have either of those in my life, I don't know what to do.

I've been trying to be brave and put myself in situations that scare me, as in going out by myself and try to interact with people. I know I come off as awkward and weird. I try not to be but I'm pretty sure that's all I am nowadays. But the point is I'm trying. I'm trying to go out and meet people and make friends or, at the very least, not feel so goddamn alone, even if it's only for an hour.

I guess my jealousy is closely related to greed. I do want more in my life. I want more meaning. I want more purpose. I want some place where I feel like I belong. But maybe it's not such a bad thing, to be greedy. I mean, it's easy to want more when you have nothing.

Love you.
Mean it.