To those who have been following me or checking my blog randomly, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
My life has been rocky the past couple of years, and has finally paid off. I have finally found my own apartment, finished my degree and reinvigorated my performing skills. I am happy and ready to create the rest of my life.
For that reason, I shall cease to blog here. I am going to focus my blogging skills on my book review blog and a professional blog on my performer site.
And to those who link through foreign porn sites, thank you for giving me a boost in numbers. It does the heart some good.
All the best! Sarah
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Sunday, November 16, 2014
What IS An Intangible Battle?
Silence... not moving, or making a decision is still a decision.
The worst of it is over, and I accept and understand each failure I made as I completed my final senior thesis for a B.A. degree. It took over three years, four if you include the year of me struggling to develop some semblance of a workable plan.
The depression was obvious. It would creep into my day, drowning me in loneliness until I had to replenish the tears with alcohol. Then that stretched into questionable nightly habits, desperately clinging on to comedy shows that alleviated the pain that cut into me. That pain morphed into my body, causing odd bathroom breaks with occasional blood and farts that would make a manly man blush. What was first my mental struggle had become a full-blown physical attack.
After the abuse from horrible eating and drinking habits, I finally took action in August to determine just why the blood keeps coming. Hemorrhoids could not be the only culprit, how can they burst so often, even if I do go on good stretches of exercise? What has not helped is the last bond of straining to restrain my body in a chair as I stare at a screen, hoping for the last of a paper to finalize in the appropriate time frame.
Then just a few days ago, I sealed the coffin with the last nail. After having a quick swim and breakfast, I jumped into cleaning up a rough presentation. Down to the wire, I was willing to offer the first (and only draft) of my paper to my professors for their discerning eyes. The moment the papers left my hands, a bit more control rushed into me.
Just as I have been taking responsibility for what I now acknowledge as ADHD; as I have accepted and mending a bacterial overgrowth of the small intestine; as I have countered my depression and anxiety with vigilant meditation and reflection; as I have accepted my weakness for excess of placebos for happiness, I accept the failures and mishaps that I would not have experienced otherwise. I would not have been inspired to discover that Playback Theater was a perfect place for me to internship with. If it were not for the thesis process, I would not have received my first ever rejection letter from a magazine editor. If it was not for my misguided hope to write a musical based on a famous singer-song writer, I would not have had the chance to talk to a professional in the music label industry.
There were plenty of chances for me to fall back into old habits. I even fell into temptation a few times. There was the occasional day of overeating, but I had to be careful what I ate in case my bowels decided to act up. Irrational shopping was eventually reversed by admitting my weakness and making a mindful plan to detract the power of it. Then twice last week, I had a drink.
Last Sunday was the worst. Instead of an intangible battle, it was an intangible war. Going to a wedding for an old childhood friend was overwhelming. Anxiety froze me into place, depression rattled my body with a malaise, my ADHD threading strings of lucid awareness and hyper-awareness into the outdoor ceremony. There was no chance I could take any of my medications early, it wasn't time yet. In such an important event, it would be difficult to go off and exercise the stress out. Most of all, any sense of logic was under full attack from the hurricane of emotions that it was difficult to see the center of the storm.
Okay so it wasn't a drink. There were several... maybe seven? That emotional response provided me a chance to boldly approach an old best friend who I had not talked to in a long time. But after that night I regretted all the drinking. Despite that guilt, that did not stop me from having a glass of port the night before my thesis presentation.
That will be the last time college will induce me into drinking. My liver has suffered abuse that was meant for the brain, and my thoughts have managed to catch up to logic. Intangible battles are mental and emotional responses to intense, difficult situations. The pain that was recorded internally became so unbearable that physical abuse was necessary to nullify the maddening thoughts and rambling emotions.
Handing a paper over, feeling my bags lighten from the absence of that package has helped. The steps I have taken recently reinforces the strength that has taken several years to rebuild. The mirage of perfection that I had been chasing has dissipated, revealing a starkly color world that I have somehow failed to notice for several years. For a change I can see the world for what it is... not what I want to see, or how others would want me to see it.
People will judge me for being unemployed and just get over myself. Others will judge me for still living with my parents and that I should carry my own weight. Some think I am whining and don't know just how good I have it and shouldn't throw away what good I have now.
They know hardly anything about me. I know hardly anything about them. We have no idea just how many thoughts run through our brains all the time. Everyone has their own inner battles. May it be a battle for inner peace, quietness, balance, faith, God, Goddess, Spaghetti Monster, Cathulu, or Universe... Our minds are fluid, thoughts and opinions ever changing. We are hardly ever the same person, even from a minute ago. Intangible battles are the changing tides of the mind, and this is a spiritual or holistic transformation that we all inevitably face.
The worst of it is over, and I accept and understand each failure I made as I completed my final senior thesis for a B.A. degree. It took over three years, four if you include the year of me struggling to develop some semblance of a workable plan.
The depression was obvious. It would creep into my day, drowning me in loneliness until I had to replenish the tears with alcohol. Then that stretched into questionable nightly habits, desperately clinging on to comedy shows that alleviated the pain that cut into me. That pain morphed into my body, causing odd bathroom breaks with occasional blood and farts that would make a manly man blush. What was first my mental struggle had become a full-blown physical attack.
After the abuse from horrible eating and drinking habits, I finally took action in August to determine just why the blood keeps coming. Hemorrhoids could not be the only culprit, how can they burst so often, even if I do go on good stretches of exercise? What has not helped is the last bond of straining to restrain my body in a chair as I stare at a screen, hoping for the last of a paper to finalize in the appropriate time frame.
Then just a few days ago, I sealed the coffin with the last nail. After having a quick swim and breakfast, I jumped into cleaning up a rough presentation. Down to the wire, I was willing to offer the first (and only draft) of my paper to my professors for their discerning eyes. The moment the papers left my hands, a bit more control rushed into me.
Just as I have been taking responsibility for what I now acknowledge as ADHD; as I have accepted and mending a bacterial overgrowth of the small intestine; as I have countered my depression and anxiety with vigilant meditation and reflection; as I have accepted my weakness for excess of placebos for happiness, I accept the failures and mishaps that I would not have experienced otherwise. I would not have been inspired to discover that Playback Theater was a perfect place for me to internship with. If it were not for the thesis process, I would not have received my first ever rejection letter from a magazine editor. If it was not for my misguided hope to write a musical based on a famous singer-song writer, I would not have had the chance to talk to a professional in the music label industry.
There were plenty of chances for me to fall back into old habits. I even fell into temptation a few times. There was the occasional day of overeating, but I had to be careful what I ate in case my bowels decided to act up. Irrational shopping was eventually reversed by admitting my weakness and making a mindful plan to detract the power of it. Then twice last week, I had a drink.
Last Sunday was the worst. Instead of an intangible battle, it was an intangible war. Going to a wedding for an old childhood friend was overwhelming. Anxiety froze me into place, depression rattled my body with a malaise, my ADHD threading strings of lucid awareness and hyper-awareness into the outdoor ceremony. There was no chance I could take any of my medications early, it wasn't time yet. In such an important event, it would be difficult to go off and exercise the stress out. Most of all, any sense of logic was under full attack from the hurricane of emotions that it was difficult to see the center of the storm.
Okay so it wasn't a drink. There were several... maybe seven? That emotional response provided me a chance to boldly approach an old best friend who I had not talked to in a long time. But after that night I regretted all the drinking. Despite that guilt, that did not stop me from having a glass of port the night before my thesis presentation.
That will be the last time college will induce me into drinking. My liver has suffered abuse that was meant for the brain, and my thoughts have managed to catch up to logic. Intangible battles are mental and emotional responses to intense, difficult situations. The pain that was recorded internally became so unbearable that physical abuse was necessary to nullify the maddening thoughts and rambling emotions.
Handing a paper over, feeling my bags lighten from the absence of that package has helped. The steps I have taken recently reinforces the strength that has taken several years to rebuild. The mirage of perfection that I had been chasing has dissipated, revealing a starkly color world that I have somehow failed to notice for several years. For a change I can see the world for what it is... not what I want to see, or how others would want me to see it.
People will judge me for being unemployed and just get over myself. Others will judge me for still living with my parents and that I should carry my own weight. Some think I am whining and don't know just how good I have it and shouldn't throw away what good I have now.
They know hardly anything about me. I know hardly anything about them. We have no idea just how many thoughts run through our brains all the time. Everyone has their own inner battles. May it be a battle for inner peace, quietness, balance, faith, God, Goddess, Spaghetti Monster, Cathulu, or Universe... Our minds are fluid, thoughts and opinions ever changing. We are hardly ever the same person, even from a minute ago. Intangible battles are the changing tides of the mind, and this is a spiritual or holistic transformation that we all inevitably face.
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