Musing no. 29: Depression Stinks

OOOOO UPDATE.

So I decided to end the other post mid-writing, and now it’s been what.. Crap, I don’t know, like 3 weeks after I initially posted it?

Anyway, I am depressed today. There isn’t a particular reason–maybe I’m just tired, hangry, cranky because I just changed my diet drastically, and started working out again–but I still feel down. Which is really annoying, because there actually isn’t anything going wrong with my life right now.

I am thankful that I am with someone who understands me when I’m upset, but of course there’s the “I’m burdening you, am I not?” mentality I get when I get depressed. It sucks. This feeling sucks. I hate it, and I don’t want it, and I don’t need it. Because it’s a slippery slope from there. I go into all the horrible crap I’ve been through, the horrible crap I’m going through, and the horrible crap I’m about to go through. Jeeeeez, brain. Chill. Holy cow.

So I, then, have to rally myself and start enumerating the good things I have going for me: my sister is out of the hospital, my boyfriend is wonderful, my grades aren’t dead yet, I don’t have stress armpit stinkiness, I smell like cupcakes, I have gum I can chew on during one of the most boring classes ever created, I can type away my feels–even if I don’t know if anyone reads this crap–, I can pick my check up today, I actually feel good about my body, I have sea salt vinegar chips I can go eat once class is done. etc., etc.,…. Wooh.

 

But this is a daily battle, and it’s sooo sooo difficult to have people stay in your life when you have to deal with this all the freaking time. It’s not like I love wallowing in it, it just sideswipes me like a kid on a skateboard who suddenly gets catapulted into the air because some random ninja turtle came out of the pothole and pushed it up. Random analogy, yes, but you should be used to that by now. LOL.

Anyway. I guess I have to just try and wake myself up for 2 hours before I pass out during class. Help me, Lord Jesus.

 

Musing no. 27: Back to da School

School begins tomorrow, signaling the need for me to post my yearly back-to-school litany. Let’s begin with a story.
 
My mom taught me how to read when I was three or four. She used to have me read from the book of Psalms, and her friends used to say, “WOW! She can memorize it!” My mom would then respond, “She can READ it! I’d be more impressed if she could memorize it, though.”
 
No, I’m not minimizing my mom’s comment, or making her look bad. In fact–with challenges like that–I, my brother, and my sister have all achieved what we achieved because our desire to better ourselves was self-fueled. Our parents never imposed. Gosh, I resented my dad for making me write, “I will not go out past 5:30pm and go drinking with my friends” 5,000 times when I was 18 (YES, I actually wrote that crap 5,000 times), but now I have the pride of saying my handwriting is beautimous. (For reference, stalk IG: thecatthatstolchristmas) Shameless self-promoting. Tsk.
 
Anyway, my point is that how you pursue this journey is based solely on yourself and how you react to outside influence. NO ONE can predict what happens while they dictate what you do. In fact, if I listened to everything my parents said, I wouldn’t be here. (I’d probably be at Harvard, lols)
 
You are in charge. You got a new track, stay on it, stay focused, and don’t break up with anyone during finals week because that’s a crappy thing to do and it makes you a total dickbag because you don’t care how anything affects other people because you’re a total user. Also make sure you thank the people you cross along the way who help you, because you may still end up needing their help anyway. (mad shade. hella shade. putting on all the shades😎)
 
But JK, that’s up to you. It’s just much better if you treat people kindly. It is the key to being the ray of sunshine everyone needs when everything starts becoming gloomy and halloweeny and snowy, woo!
 
Begin this path with humility, perseverance, patience, generosity, and kindness. I promise you, it will yield good things, you will accrue good people, and you have the chance to pass on the good that is rarely existent today.
 
Have fun with school, kids. MamaLo is here if you need to rant, someone to talk to about schedules, your boy/girl/other/pet trouble, if you want to buy me food, I’m always here.
 
Oh and also, make sure you say hi.
 
🤙🏼✌🏼😘
-Lo

Musing no. 25: Hello, Wordsmith.

Words. I’ve always fallen for those so good with words. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I love to talk so much, that when someone else speaks I prefer to listen. But that has never benefited me, to be honest.

I dislike when people say things they don’t mean. They say things you want to hear, claim to be honest, then if they fall through–and you did expect them to–they say you have no faith. Excuse me. If I listened in the first place, then I’d have lost my soul already.

We sometimes forget how our words affect others; the way we say things and what our words mean can be totally different. Some may claim to be pleased doing this, some may lie about it. Whatever. You’re in charge of what you do and say to others at this point.

 

There will always be disappointment. You’re literally surrounded by liars. Family, friends, lovers, what-have-you… They all lie to you regularly. Hell, you even lie to yourself regularly. No, Janet, those pants do NOT accentuate your bum.

But my point is, don’t lie to yourselves. When you lie–self-righteousness like “I’m not the same person I was… I only deserve the best… I have to become better for you” type of crap–you don’t like to the other person. You lie to yourself. No, you don’t deserve the best, you can barely handle a real relationship. No, you are not the same person, but that same person makes you who you are, and you can’t really escape it. No, you don’t have to become better for me, you need to become better for someone better than me, because in your eyes I was not enough and I was flawed. THERE. Isn’t being honest SOOO much easier? Jeez.

 

I can not wait until I find someone I can speak to with any thought–no matter how shocking or appalling, how wondrous and amazing, how insane and inane, how beautiful and awesome. Time will come. I shall wait. I shall speak, and I shall be honest.

 

And. So. Should. You.

Musing no. 24: Homebound

As some of you already know, I am headed back to Canada tomorrow to take care of family. I initially just wanted to dip out, and not tell anyone about it, but I need you all to understand something.

I’m here for whoever needs someone to rely on, talk to, confide in, and comfort them. Most of you know that. I just ask two things of you—please say a prayer for my family. Please pray for healing, and that we get through our trials.

The other thing I am asking for you to do, is to love those around you. You don’t know the struggles they’re facing, no matter how happy they seem on the outside. Help them even just by checking up on them. I have friends who know me so well that they check up on me every day, even when everything is seemingly fine. I have friends who feed me when they can tell I haven’t been eating and I’ve lost my appetite (Ronald, I see you!). But PLEASE, be kind to each other. Be kind to those you encounter. No matter how annoying you think they are, you don’t know if you’re the one inspiring them to follow their passions and end up making a big difference in the world. You’re capable of being kind—use it.

I don’t know exactly when I’ll be back, but I am aiming for before the beginning of the Fall semester. I still have unfinished business to deal with here.

If no one else around you is kind, be the difference. It’s so easy to be apathetic and dismissive of people in this city; it’s also easy to just be considerate and helpful. Don’t break hearts. Mend them. Don’t hurt souls. Inspire them.

And again, be kind. Coz Lo told you so. 🙂 ❤

Musing no. 17: In Remembrance

TW: graphic content.

You hear them arriving. “Another one,” you murmur under your breath, as dust and dirt on dried sweat slowly flake off your brow… You know that there’s no chance, yet you have to fix this again, somehow. 

One by one you see them walking, or carried–maybe, assisted–being herded by medevac into the tent. An arm, a leg, two arms, both legs… an arm and a leg–all missing. Then the ones on the carrier…gone. And then you see the one–if lucky, two–who are so shaken you can tell that they wished they were blind, that there could be Mother’s skirt they could hide behind, but their shock is glossed over by guilt. 

“That should have been me,” their eyes tell you, as they pass you by, knowing at some point throughout this tour they will have to–no, they will NEED to talk to you about it. You have seen this, time and again. You, yourself, wonder, “Am I becoming numb of this?”

“Sir, we need you in the tent,” your assistant tells you. You follow him with your Book in tow, knowing it’s time; some are not going to make it but they seek some sort of transcendental comfort before they move on. 

“Home. I want to go home. Tell me Chaplain, am I going to make it home? It doesn’t have to be this one. How about the next one? The one you spoke about two days ago?”

So you reassure this young man, telling him that yes, he is going to make it home, as long as he commits his spirit and believes that Jesus is the Way and no one else. Sometimes, you question all these things happening and what you have been preaching in believing after they come back from the field like this, but you quickly rebuke yourself. “Stop, Jack, you know better than to question the Creator,” you chastise yourself.

You go back to your tent in anguish over the thought of the wives and children some of them left behind, the siblings they grew up with, or the parents who won’t be able to know that their child is gone–sometimes their only child–and won’t know about it until a few days, sometimes weeks, after.

Yet, you write about it in your journal. You write to remember for them, and hope that the souls you have spoken to indeed found peace and did enough–most importantly believed enough–that they could be where peace lies. Past the blue skies, that encompass all the the earth that somehow cost them–and demanded–their lives.

And now they lie in peace.

___________________
Enjoy that barbecue. The sun, the beach, the drinks, peace. But remember the fallen, remember the fallen. 

Enjoy the sky’s blue hue. The sand, the grill, the food, calm. But remember the fallen, remember the fallen.

But don’t just “Enjoy.” Live your life worthy of another life. Don’t burden yourself with living it too perfectly, though.
 Live it in a way that reminds you of how they were when they were here.
 Live your life to help those in need, to fight for those who don’t have a voice, to not stand on the side when those who are discriminated against struggle. Be their voice–those alive and those who’ve gone. 
Live your life, and take care of yourself. Your life is precious and you know that because those who did not have to, gave theirs so you can have and keep yours. 

Live for them. Don’t make it your sole purpose, but live a life that thanks them for what they did. 

Remember the presence they had. Remember how they were at home. Remember how they were in training. Remember how they smiled, ate, laughed, breathed, joked around, cried, chewed–every little thing they did that made them who they were, what they were, to you.

Remember the fallen–the brothers and sisters that were not your flesh and blood, but did more than your flesh and blood. Meant more than your flesh and blood.

And don’t forget those who felled themselves, too. They were still fighting that war when they got home.

And to those who are still here–just remember it, but don’t live in it. 

Live in the now, in remembrance.