It's almost as if my being is made up of oil and water; I'm a skeptic and an optimist. That seems like it wouldn't work, right? They don't mix. Wrong. It has worked for nineteen years- and counting.
I say that because it's true, it really has. But just because it has worked does not mean it has been easy. Of all the words I could use to describe how it has been, easy is my very last choice.
And that's okay. Easy has never been what I've wanted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For my whole life, people have asked me how I grew to be so skeptical and cynical of the world. I've never had an answer, but the people who have known me from my earliest days can attest to this- I think I've just always been this way.
On both this blog and my last one, I've shared stories with you about my episodic skepticism tantrums.
I've told you about the substitute teacher I had in Kindergarten who asked the class if anyone knew how to spell the word "swimming" and when I raised my hand, I spelled it phonetically. With one M.
"Next time you might want to make sure you're right before you shoot your hand up," he told me.
I was five years old and already learning how to hold back tears, questioning why I had voluntarily made a fool of myself and making a mental note to never raise my hand again- for fear of being wrong.
That was all it took. Being shot down one time. Being five years old and hearing an adult tell me my input was essentially nothing more than a waste of my own breath and everyone else's time.
Self-doubt seemed to swallow me whole from that day forward.
To this day, even when I'm my most confident I question it. I question whether or not I deserve to feel that okay- and I say okay because even at confidence peaks I don't feel on top of the world. I just feel (for once) at peace. That lasts for maybe a few hours. After that, my head role-plays all the worst possible scenarios that could result from anything in any moment after I speak. Even when I know that I'm right, there's something inside of me that still seems to scream, "Don't say anything! God damn it you're not supposed to be this reckless. You should just know better than to open your mouth. You could be so wrong."
And granted, I have learned (in nineteen years of trying to mix oil and water) that being wrong can sometimes be better than trying so desperately to be right.
That doesn't mean my tongue doesn't still burn after saying something I know I'll regret. It just means I'm a little bit less fearful of breathing fire.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I remember telling you a lot about how in the minutes during and immediately following anxiety attacks or emotional breakdowns, people would say things like "quit acting like this" "you're being ridiculous" or "stop freaking out" as if they assumed I was choosing to feel helpless or to completely lack control.
But God forbid I EVER tell them how to control their emotions. This should work in everyone else's favor but mine- and I should just sit down, shut up and accept it.. right?
Wrong. Again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've heard too many "I know how you feel"s and I've retaliated with too many honest "No you don't"s to believe that I am easy to love or that life is anywhere near easy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The more I started hating my own skepticism and anxiety, the worse my depressive behavior got. Somewhere along the line though, I discovered the MAGIC of comedy.
I started watching and listening to comedians almost constantly. Louis C.K., Bo Burnham, Jim Gaffigan, Demetri Martin, John Mulaney, Seth Macfarlane, Jerry Seinfeld, Enrique Iglesias, Kevin Hart, Amy Schumer, Dave Chappelle and literally ANYONE on air at any given time.
If you're familiar with comedy, you probably know that a lot of comedians tend to be people who have struggled fairly significantly in one aspect of life or another. Many of them got into comedy as a result of those hardships- using their ability to make jokes out of them as a creative outlet and coping mechanism for the sake of their own emotional well-being while also relating to audiences who may share those same or similar struggles.
I learned this within a single day of watching and listening. As I would listen to the jokes, I'd study the facial expressions or the tone of voice of the comedian telling them. It was then that I realized that the majority of the jokes were not only the results of awkward moments or painful memories, but also seemingly expertly crafted written explanations of frightening realities. Comedy isn't all smiles and jokes all the time if you really listen. Comedy is skepticism at its best.
And a lot of comedians, as it turns out, are incredibly skeptical people.
Gifted skeptics, as I call them, because it takes an amazing amount of strength to see the world for what it is through such narrow eyes and to relay that in a way that makes people laugh so hard they can't breathe.
I admire that more than most anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Because let's be honest, it's a little bit too convenient to let the world get the best of us. It's easy to let people get under our skin or into our heads or to steal our hearts. It's easy to say that everything sucks when, for the moment, it does. It takes no effort to get angry when someone rubs us the wrong way or doesn't seem to give a damn about how we feel in a given moment. It's easy to get wrapped up in the thought that you have to be loved a certain way to be worth as much as the next person and it's so tempting to just want to slam your own self-destruct button sometimes but please... stay.
It has taken me up until this past year to genuinely see the world around me in a skeptical yet simultaneously optimistic way- and while that is a victory for me it has become just another battleground, too.
At times when my skepticism is heavy and persistent, I like to try to think about how I could turn those moments into stories that make people laugh and when I'm happy, I like to share that.
BUT...
People have told me before to "stop being so optimistic" because apparently having a more positive perspective than I ever have is annoying.
Yet when I allow the skeptic within me to speak, I get things like, "for goodness sakes, try to be more positive" or "would it kill you to just enjoy this?" or my personal favorite "stop complaining."
Either way I must still be breathing fire and spitting smoke because for moments at a time I could swear my whole world gets brighter and other times, I'm doing my best not to choke.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I say that because it's true, it really has. But just because it has worked does not mean it has been easy. Of all the words I could use to describe how it has been, easy is my very last choice.
And that's okay. Easy has never been what I've wanted.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For my whole life, people have asked me how I grew to be so skeptical and cynical of the world. I've never had an answer, but the people who have known me from my earliest days can attest to this- I think I've just always been this way.
On both this blog and my last one, I've shared stories with you about my episodic skepticism tantrums.
I've told you about the substitute teacher I had in Kindergarten who asked the class if anyone knew how to spell the word "swimming" and when I raised my hand, I spelled it phonetically. With one M.
"Next time you might want to make sure you're right before you shoot your hand up," he told me.
I was five years old and already learning how to hold back tears, questioning why I had voluntarily made a fool of myself and making a mental note to never raise my hand again- for fear of being wrong.
That was all it took. Being shot down one time. Being five years old and hearing an adult tell me my input was essentially nothing more than a waste of my own breath and everyone else's time.
Self-doubt seemed to swallow me whole from that day forward.
To this day, even when I'm my most confident I question it. I question whether or not I deserve to feel that okay- and I say okay because even at confidence peaks I don't feel on top of the world. I just feel (for once) at peace. That lasts for maybe a few hours. After that, my head role-plays all the worst possible scenarios that could result from anything in any moment after I speak. Even when I know that I'm right, there's something inside of me that still seems to scream, "Don't say anything! God damn it you're not supposed to be this reckless. You should just know better than to open your mouth. You could be so wrong."
And granted, I have learned (in nineteen years of trying to mix oil and water) that being wrong can sometimes be better than trying so desperately to be right.
That doesn't mean my tongue doesn't still burn after saying something I know I'll regret. It just means I'm a little bit less fearful of breathing fire.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I remember telling you a lot about how in the minutes during and immediately following anxiety attacks or emotional breakdowns, people would say things like "quit acting like this" "you're being ridiculous" or "stop freaking out" as if they assumed I was choosing to feel helpless or to completely lack control.
But God forbid I EVER tell them how to control their emotions. This should work in everyone else's favor but mine- and I should just sit down, shut up and accept it.. right?
Wrong. Again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've heard too many "I know how you feel"s and I've retaliated with too many honest "No you don't"s to believe that I am easy to love or that life is anywhere near easy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The more I started hating my own skepticism and anxiety, the worse my depressive behavior got. Somewhere along the line though, I discovered the MAGIC of comedy.
I started watching and listening to comedians almost constantly. Louis C.K., Bo Burnham, Jim Gaffigan, Demetri Martin, John Mulaney, Seth Macfarlane, Jerry Seinfeld, Enrique Iglesias, Kevin Hart, Amy Schumer, Dave Chappelle and literally ANYONE on air at any given time.
If you're familiar with comedy, you probably know that a lot of comedians tend to be people who have struggled fairly significantly in one aspect of life or another. Many of them got into comedy as a result of those hardships- using their ability to make jokes out of them as a creative outlet and coping mechanism for the sake of their own emotional well-being while also relating to audiences who may share those same or similar struggles.
I learned this within a single day of watching and listening. As I would listen to the jokes, I'd study the facial expressions or the tone of voice of the comedian telling them. It was then that I realized that the majority of the jokes were not only the results of awkward moments or painful memories, but also seemingly expertly crafted written explanations of frightening realities. Comedy isn't all smiles and jokes all the time if you really listen. Comedy is skepticism at its best.
And a lot of comedians, as it turns out, are incredibly skeptical people.
Gifted skeptics, as I call them, because it takes an amazing amount of strength to see the world for what it is through such narrow eyes and to relay that in a way that makes people laugh so hard they can't breathe.
I admire that more than most anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Because let's be honest, it's a little bit too convenient to let the world get the best of us. It's easy to let people get under our skin or into our heads or to steal our hearts. It's easy to say that everything sucks when, for the moment, it does. It takes no effort to get angry when someone rubs us the wrong way or doesn't seem to give a damn about how we feel in a given moment. It's easy to get wrapped up in the thought that you have to be loved a certain way to be worth as much as the next person and it's so tempting to just want to slam your own self-destruct button sometimes but please... stay.
It has taken me up until this past year to genuinely see the world around me in a skeptical yet simultaneously optimistic way- and while that is a victory for me it has become just another battleground, too.
At times when my skepticism is heavy and persistent, I like to try to think about how I could turn those moments into stories that make people laugh and when I'm happy, I like to share that.
BUT...
People have told me before to "stop being so optimistic" because apparently having a more positive perspective than I ever have is annoying.
Yet when I allow the skeptic within me to speak, I get things like, "for goodness sakes, try to be more positive" or "would it kill you to just enjoy this?" or my personal favorite "stop complaining."
Either way I must still be breathing fire and spitting smoke because for moments at a time I could swear my whole world gets brighter and other times, I'm doing my best not to choke.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NOTE:
I have learned well that you should share your happiness when you can
because I think it is one of those things that gets remembered
in the middle of bad days and rough nights.
I have grown to understand that people do not always take kindly to kindness
and I will never understand that for as long as I live
because I've always just assumed kindness
shouldn't be an empty promise.
In 19 years I have discovered the importance of time
and likewise the importance of spending it well.
I have learned that the things you tell yourself in the first few seconds
following the moment you awaken from sleep
can make or break how you handle what gets thrown at you.
With only the most sincere love and appreciation that I have for you, reader,
I can promise two things:
1) easy is not what you want
2) you are an absolute mess and that is the greatest thing to be
(you are not alone)
I use this picture because this was one day recently that was so needed. Meeting the family I've always had but had never hugged before was so incredible. Telling them my stories and listening to theirs was one of the highlights of my year.
And, in the words of my Great Uncle Miles:
All I can do is hope and pray for another birthday so that there's at least a chance something this nice could happen again.
xox, - oil and water do not mix but I have found that I am made of elements far more powerful
everything starts and ends with powerful things.
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